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random-thot-generator · 2 months ago

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Better Not to Know + Pt. 7

KYLE 'GAZ' GARRICK x FEM READER

Summary: Life with Kyle isn't easy—but sometimes it has its perks.

cw: profanity, pregnancy, pg-13 spicy thoughts, fluff

banners/dividers: @saradika-graphics

Your alarm goes off and you jerk awake.

Smacking your hand blindly across your nightstand, you locate the source of the offensive sound—your cell phone—and snatch it off the charger, silencing it with a tired groan. You were up half the night with heartburn, and the thought of getting up is just too much to bear.

"Ten more minutes, then I'll get up," you promise yourself.

You sigh and sink back into the mattress, already halfway back to sleep, but then the baby kicks and your bladder contracts. Suddenly, it feels like you're about to burst. Flopping over on your back, your face crumples. You think you might cry.

"Fuck..."

Now eight months pregnant, you lie in your bed like a beached whale, needing desperately to pee while worried you'll piss the bed before you can manage to get up. Kyle's just down the hall, but you loathe the idea of calling for him, especially since you've made a point to remind him every day since he moved in that you do not want or need his help.

Karma is such a bitch.

"I can do this," you mutter, determined to hang onto your pride.

You flail and roll and scooch, but you only manage to get your legs over the edge of the bed before you have to pause to take a breather. Panting with exhaustion, you push yourself up on your elbows and peer down the vague silhouette of your body. Even in the dark, your swollen belly mocks you, daring you to try and sit up.

Yep. Definitely going to cry.

You see the hall light turn on and you sniffle, the first tear slipping down your cheek as you hear the floorboards creak and pop. As soon as your door opens and Kyle pokes his head in, your breath hitches and you wail, "I have to pee and I can't get up!"

"Oh, love..."

Kyle hurries to the bed and clicks on your bedside lamp, blinking sleepy, soulful eyes in the dim light. You expect him to crow 'I told you so!' or at least silently gloat, so you're surprised when you meet his gaze.

His brow puckers in concern as he leans over you. "Shh... Don't cry, sweetheart. It's alright. C'mon, give me your hands."

You flop back on the bed, inconsolable, and sob. "I'm so embarrassed..."

His warm hands curl around your knees, long fingers pressing into their backs. "Hush, now," he croons lowly, easing your legs apart. "Ya've got nothin' to be embarrassed about. Just let me help you."

When he positions himself between your knees, your eyes fly open and you hiccup in surprise.

"Wuh—What are doing?" you sniffle.

"Helping," he replies. His gaze locks with yours, holding your attention. "I'm gonna tug ya forward a bit, then you're gonna wrap your arms around my neck and I'm gonna help ya sit up. Okay?"

Biting your lip, you sniffle again then nod.

His hands are gentle as they grip your knees and pull, his bare chest and arms flexing beautifully as he draws you towards him. The move is insanely erotic, spurring thoughts about him doing the same move, but for a completely different reason. Tears forgotten, you watch in dazed fascination as he bows over you and draws your arms around his neck.

"That's it, love. I got ya. Just hang on to me," he instructs, his words soft and soothing and oh so sexy as they trickle like warm honey into your ear.

You clasp his neck, goosebumps rising as he expels his warm breath across your cheek, his stubble scratching lightly against your heated skin. You can feel muscle and tendon working under your fingertips as he eases you up, one hand cupping the nape of your neck, the other supporting your back.

"There we are," he murmurs, sitting you upright before squatting between your parted legs to look you directly in the eye. "That wasn't so bad now, was it?"

"No."

His hands come up to cup your face, his thumbs swiping away your tears. His smile is heartbreakingly sweet as he stares into your eyes, then he leans in to press a lingering kiss on your forehead.

Sagging into his arms, it feels like contrition. You don't want to fight anymore.

Drawing back, he slides his hands down your arms, lacing his fingers with yours. "Let's get ya up an' into the loo, yeah?"

Giving him a sheepish grin, you nod.

Once you're on your feet, he shuffles behind you to the bathroom, hands light on your hips. You pause in the doorway and meet his eyes over your shoulder. Time to wave the white flag.

"Thanks for helping me, and sorry about the meltdown. I've been a raging, hormonal bitch lately."

"No worries," he whispers, arms snaking around you to splay his hands over your belly. He dips his head to kiss your shoulder, then your cheek. "I deserved it."

Your heart flutters at his admission, this give and take of forgiveness finally settling that restless, angry feeling you've been carrying around inside you for months. It feels good; it feels right. Does he feel it, too?

You hope like hell he does.

You stand in his embrace for several more moments, relishing the feeling. It's nice, comforting, something you realize you've sorely needed.

Kyle pecks another kiss on your cheek and reluctantly slides his hands from around your waist with a sigh. He almost looks shy as he rubs the back of his head, a crooked little smile pulling up one corner of his mouth.

"I'm, uh, gonna go make breakfast while ya get ready. Just give a shout if ya need anything."

"Okay. Thanks."

He gives you one of his dazzling smiles before stepping back then turns to walk out of your room. You give yourself a moment to admire his bare back, a little swoop of arousal making your thighs clench when your gaze drops to his low-riding pajama pants and tight bum.

Giving yourself a mental shake, you shut the door then lean your forehead against it, wondering if you've lost your mind. Sniffing in amusement, you shake your head, suddenly remembering just how badly you needed to pee.

God, what that man does to you.

>>>>>

Kyle pulls to the curb in front of your work, a slight frown on his face as he peers inside the building.

"Three more days, yeah?"

You sigh, nodding as you gather your things together. "Yes, Kyle," you reply dutifully. "Three more days, then I'm officially on maternity leave."

He's been harping about it since he found out Webster guilted you into staying an additional month. You should have started your statutory maternity leave two weeks ago.

You spy the doorman walking towards you, then shift your attention back to Kyle when he grunts. You huff out an exasperated little laugh. "I'll be fine. The girls in the office are keeping a close eye on me. Promise."

Ricky the doorman pecks on your window, ready to help you out the car, and Kyle heaves a frustrated breath. "Could wring that wanker's neck," he mutters.

You know the wanker he's speaking of, which is not Ricky, so you don't bother to reply. Instead, you lean over and give him a peck on the cheek, then giggle at the shocked expression on his face.

Grinning like an idiot, you open your door and let Ricky haul you out by the hand. You only turn to wave goodbye once you reach the entrance, a seed of hope taking root. A warm, tingly feeling spreads throughout your body when you see Kyle still sitting there, grinning like an idiot right back at you.

You're pretty sure you float instead of walk through the door when Ricky opens it for you.

"Dunno who's more smitten, Miss," he chuckles, holding the door for you. "You or that lad of yours."

You open your mouth to correct him, to tell him you and Kyle aren't actually a couple, but for some reason you don't. Instead, you give a bashful little shrug, a smile creeping onto your face as you waddle off towards the lifts.

pt. 6 | pt. 8

#kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #cod gaz #cod mw2 #call of duty #better not to know

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random-thot-generator · 3 months ago

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Better Not to Know + Pt. 6

Kyle Gaz Garrick x reader

Summary: Kyle comes over to your place to work some things out.

cw: pregnancy, brief mention of drinking- smoking- drug use, mention of sexual partners- nothing explicit, a few brief PG-spicy thoughts/moments

banners & dividers: @saradika-graphics

People deal with stress in all sorts of ways. Some drink, some smoke, some even do drugs. Adversely, others might hit the gym for a work out or paint or cook. Some people might even hook up with a stranger in a night club loo.

You wince at that last one, making a pained face.

Being pregnant, those first three options are definitely out of the question for you, and being seven and a half months pregnant, just the thought of waddling yourself into a gym makes you cringe. Sure, you could break out your water colors or make that breakfast bake you saw online, but those sorts of activities take focus, something you are sorely lacking at the moment. And as for that last option...

Well, you see where that got you.

One thing you can do that isn't unhealthy and doesn't take a lot of concentration is cleaning. It's something you've always excelled at— being the germaphobe you are, so that's what you've been doing all morning. It's keeps your hands busy and your mind blank, so you're not sitting around fretting over the visitor you're soon to receive.

God, why did you agree to let Kyle come over?

Oh, yeah. He's now "officially" the father of your baby. How could you forget?

You snort at yourself and toss your scrubby sponge in the bathroom sink. Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you give her a dirty look and hiss, "You bloody idiot."

After putting away your cleaning supplies, you shower, dress and make yourself a decaf latté, then settle on your couch to wait. Turning on the telly to distract yourself, you end up watching the clock, anyway, your nerves ratcheting up with each passing minute. When a trio of quick knocks finally land on your door, the sound still ends up startling you, despite expecting it. It even startles the baby, who doesn't hesitate to give your bladder a good, swift kick.

"You should be kicking your dad," you mutter, hauling yourself up awkwardly from the couch.

Unbolting the door, you open it to reveal the gorgeous figure of Kyle Garrick leaning in your doorframe. He gifts you one of his megawatt smiles and your breath hitches in your throat. Ugh! It's bloody unfair, how good he looks.

"Mornin', pet. Brought us some breakfast along," he says, holding up a white paper bag. His eyes trail down to the large bump of your stomach. "Gotta keep you and our little one fed properly."

Discomfited by the open yearning in his expression, you shift behind the open door as you open it wider and avert your eyes. "Please, come in."

Kyle saunters across the threshold, eyes wandering about your flat, taking it in. "Nice place," he mutters, shrugging off his light jacket.

"Thanks," you reply automatically, still unable to meet his gaze. You gesture at the coat tree as you take the bag from his hand. "Hang up your jacket. I'll take this to the kitchen. Tea or coffee?"

"Coffee," he replies, hanging his jacket before following in your wake. Sliding onto one of the bar chairs at the counter, he watches you take a mug down from the cupboard before checking out the rest of the space. His gaze takes in the spotless kitchen and gleaming appliances, his nose picking up on the fresh scent of lemon cleanser.

"Are ya always this neat or did ya clean on my account?" he asks, curious.

You shrug, keeping your back to him as you prepare his coffee, then plate up the croissants and grab spoons for the yogurt parfaits you unpacked. "Both, I suppose. I clean when I'm nervous," you confess.

You turn around to find him eyeing you, a slight frown buckling his brow. "Why are ya nervous?" he asks, nodding his thanks as you slide his food and coffee across to him.

You huff out a soft laugh, finding his question ridiculous. "You have to ask?" you query, pinching off a piece of your croissant. You chance a quick glimpse up at him as you pop the bite in your mouth.

His frown smooths out, the wry curl of his lips drawing your gaze. Regardless of the hateful words that have spewed out of it, you can't deny the man has the prettiest mouth you've ever seen. It's so... sensual and—

Far too distracting for your own good. Christ, get hold of yourself, lass.

Clearing your throat, you focus on your parfait, instead. "You were bloody awful to me," you mutter.

Leaning on his elbows, he cups his hands around his steaming mug and stares down into the dark liquid. "I know," he sighs. "I've been a right bastard to ya, pet, and I'm sorry."

His quick apology catches you off guard, drawing your eyes back to him again. He meets your gaze head-on, his expression sincere.

"I fucked up royally, love. Can't take it all back, but I'd like the chance t'make it up to ya." His eyes fall to your bump. "I've missed out on so much already. Don't want to miss any more."

You can't help the anger that bubbles up your throat, choking you with its bitter taste. "And whose fault is that?" you croak out, hands balling into fists on either side of your plate.

"It's mine," he blurts, grasping your clenched hands. "It's all my fault, sweetheart. Every bit of it. I take full responsibility for it and for—" He glances back to your belly again. "This."

You glare at him, pissed that you're already on your way to forgiving him, so pathetically desperate to believe he means what he says. You're not ready to let him off that easy. You need answers, and perhaps a bit of groveling.

"Why the sudden change of heart?"

He releases your hands and slumps back in his seat. "It was seeing you again, hearing what you said before you left my flat."

You sneer at him. "You mean, what I said to your bird before I left your flat? Right?"

His face crumples into a scowl. "She's not my bird, but yeah. Pissed me off, what you said, but it made me consider why ya kept insisting the baby was mine." He shakes his head, looking back into his coffee mug. "I was told there was little to no chance of me ever fathering kids, pet. It's why I didn't believe ya, but..." He heaves out another sigh. "I just had to know for certain."

"Who told you that?" you ask, surprised.

He shrugs a shoulder. "Different doctors throughout the years. I had an internal injury, it got infected, caused some scarring, damaged the pipeworks," he replies, waving a hand over his lap. "Would never have dreamed in a million years I could get someone pregnant. It's like a bloody miracle."

Pursing your lips, you drop your gaze to your plate, processing everything he's just told you. It does help explain his reaction, you suppose, but it still hurts, remembering all the awful things he said to you. But if he's truly ready to make up for it—

A thought suddenly occurs to you, making your chest feel tight. Your scalp prickles, a little green monster coiling itself around your brain. "If you didn't know your boys were swimming again, you should probably get in touch with that bird you were with, as well as any other women you've been with lately."

God, how it galls you to hear yourself say that. Not because it isn't true, but because of the jealous, catty tone you used to deliver it. As much as you hate to admit it, it would kill you to learn some other bird might be pregnant with his child.

Kyle sniffs in amusement. "No worries there, pet. Claire or Clara said I passed out as soon as I hit the bed, so nothing happened between us. As for any other birds, I've not been with anyone else of late, but even if I had, I always use protection." He smirks at your cynical look. "Well, almost always. You're obviously the one exception."

You roll your eyes and scoff a laugh. "Right. Obviously."

You have to fight not to grin, though, far too pleased with his admission. You don't want to think about what it says about you that you're chuffed to know you were his one exception. Then again, Kyle had been your one and only exception as well. How foolish would it be of you to hope—

Nope! No no no. You are not falling into that sexy man-trap again. That's already proven to be disastrous for you. Moving forward from this, your interactions with Kyle will be strictly about the baby. Anything else would just complicate things.

Right. Moving along.

With the air finally cleared between you, the two of you finish your breakfast while you attempt to catch Kyle up on everything he's missed. You can't help but be pleased by how excited he seems, even while discussing things like breastfeeding and car seats.

Then you break out the ultrasound images you've saved. The soft look of awe on his face as he flips through them does something to you. You have to ignore the little swoop of arousal you experience when he beams that sexy, knee-wobbling smile at you when you point out the sex of the baby.

"A son?" he breathes out, taking hold of your hands. "You're givin' me a son, sweetheart?"

He then draws you into his arms, splaying his big hand over your belly. "Thank you," he whispers at your ear. "I swear I'll take care of you and our boy, love. I swear it on my life."

It's harder to ignore the little puddle that forms in your knickers after that declaration.

It's hard but you manage to pull yourself away and redirect the conversation to a safer subject, namely your plans for your little bug's nursery.

"Have ya picked out a crib yet?" he asks.

You nod enthusiastically. "Yeah! It was delivered just last week. Would you like to see it?"

"Lead the way, sweetheart."

Leading Kyle to the spare bedroom that you are slowly converting to a nursery, you point to a large, thin box leaned against the wall. "That's what it will like once it's put together," you say, tapping the picture glued to the front. "I got a great deal on it. It's supposed to be top of the line."

Kyle bends to examine the box, mumbling under his breath about the crib's dimensions before turning to study the room.

"I suppose I could put it together now, but it'll be a tight fit with the rest of the furniture in here. We should probably wait until you're closer to your due date, I guess. Do it now and there won't be much room to maneuver."

Excited that he's offered to put it together for you, you wave off his concern about floorspace. "That doesn't matter. No one sleeps in here unless I have a guest, anyway."

Kyle gives you an indulgent smile and boops you on the nose with his finger. "But you will have a guest, love."

You blink up at him, confused. "What? Who?"

"I told you, pet. I don't want to miss another second of this pregnancy. You can understand that, can't you?"

"Well, yes but—"

Kyle grips your shoulders and beams his megawatt smile. "Brilliant! I'll start moving in today."

Before you can speak, he swoops in to give you a firm kiss on the lips, then strides out of the room. "Be back in a tick, love!" he calls from down the hall. "Goin' to mine to grab a few things!"

You lift a hand to touch your tingling lips, too dazed by the kiss to immediately respond. You hear your door clap shut right about the time your brain finally comes back online.

Wait. Did he just say he's—

"Moving in?!"

pt. 5 | pt. 7

#kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz #cod gaz #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #pregnant!reader #call of duty #cod modern warfare #better not to know

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