#sweet beautiful kyle

[buttdumplin]

The white boys don't know how to deal with the sun.

cw: poly 141 x latine transmasc!reader, established relationship, mexican slang, suggestive, mention of reader's "titties" but not op specific word count: 1593

You did warn them. And they did seem to listen. But maybe because of their jobs they’ve come to underestimate the little things every now and then.

It’s their first time visiting your hometown and you very clearly warn them as yall step out to lounge in the patio, “Aguas con el sol.”

Kyle smiles, already knowing what’s to unfold, as the others huff a chorus of it’s not that hot and a little sun can’t hurt and I’ll be alright. The heat has the white boys in less clothes than you’ve ever seen them leave the house in. The shorts are short, just enough to loosely cover the important parts. Shirts are so stained with sweat that they’ve just been tossed off, sweat left to glisten untouched, all their freckles on proud display. It’s fucking delicious, you can’t argue that. Even Kyle can’t help but drool a little, helping you wipe your own mouth with a chuckle. 

“Boys, you need sunscreen,” you tell them before they get too far. They look back, the three of them pointing at themselves in surprise. Reluctantly, they each thoroughly cover their legs.

Kyle speaks up, helping you lure them back, “Will you put it on for us?”

At your nod, Johnny is jumping to your side, his smile so wide his tail would wag if he had one. You try to be gentle, wanting to make this cute, but he’s so wiggly that you end up roughly slathering him up. 

“Done?”

“Are you in that much of a hurry to lay in the kiddie pool?” You already know the answer. In fact, he’s out of your hands before you can even rub the sunscreen into his skin, wide swaths of lotion bright against his skin.

Simon steps into your space before you can try to catch Johnny, looking down at you with a sweet smile, “Me next?”

You wave Kyle over to help you cover this gentle giant, making sure to cover the tattoos on his arms well. Simon melts into your arms, all but purring as he closes his eyes to focus on the feel of your hands roaming his body. Kyle’s hands come around to Simon’s front, fingers kneading his hefty tits, lingering to pinch and rub at his nipples. You kiss the back of Kyle’s hand and the big man lets out a soft grunt. Pulling the front of Simon’s body to yours, you reach down his back, hand sliding slightly into his shorts to grab at his ass. You can feel his heartbeat kick up against you. Gently, both you and Kyle pull away a little, back to taking your job seriously. 

“You’ll have to reapply a little sooner than the rest.”

Eyes hazy, you know Simon is a little too far gone to fully hear you. He just nods and finds his way to one of the lounging chairs. You and Kyle share a look, knowing you’ll have to keep an eye on him.

When John steps up to you and Kyle, he already has white streaks of sunscreen on his body, “Thought you two could help me rub it in properly.”

The two of you easily slot into place. You take his back, using the slick of the lotion to help you give his wide shoulders a massage, staying there until it’s all worked into his skin. Kyle goes directly for his tits too, but a raised eyebrow from John keeps him from any teasing. Instead, Kyle uses the chance to grab at his arms, squeezing along the way, making John lift his arms and pose. You grab at his belly as you cover it in sunscreen, hands greedy for the feel of his body, your smiling mouth pressed against his back. When you try to follow the trail of hair, he stops your hand.

“Don’t start what you can’t finish.”

You and Kyle both let out a quick disappointed sigh as he saunters away to join the other two. What could have been. You find some solace in each other, helping one another with hard to reach spots and traveling hands. He helps you with your legs, smooth circles inching higher and higher up your inner thigh, loving the way his fingers dig into the soft fat. The grin on his face sharp as your breaths quicken. You shove your hands into his shorts, following the waistline of them from one hip, around his back, and to the other. He arches into your hand, trying to move his body towards it so you’ll touch him, cock straining against the fabric. 

Kyle pauses for a moment, hands holding the hem of the crop top you’re wearing, “It’s just us and it’s a closed space. Do you want to?”

“I don’t think I want my titties out directly in the sun. But thank you for asking.”

“Alright, sweet boy,” he kisses your forehead, “pero dime si cambias de opinión. I can help you with your sunscreen again.”

Giggling and swatting at each other, you join the other boys, ready to spend your evening doing nothing for once.

The next morning is quiet. You meet Kyle in the kitchen, helping set up the table for the chilaquiles he went out early for. But the rest of the house is unusually silent. Standing at the bottom of the stairs, you call out for them. Slowly, they shuffle down the stairs in tiny shorts, bodies stiff and limbs barely bending. 

“Did you guys slee-” there’s no point in finishing once you see them. 

Simon’s pink all over. It’s not too deep of a hue, but it is absolutely all over, a stark contrast against the freckles and moles covering his body. He winces as he bends his arm to wave, the crease of his elbow tight. He doesn’t say a word as he sits at the table, worried about the sounds he’ll make if he opens his mouth. The least he can do is wait until the food is served, then maybe everyone else will be too busy to notice the sad whimpers coming from him. You and Kyle exchange worried glances, trying to remember how often Simon reapplied his sunscreen. He must have brushed aside the heat gathering on his tattoos.

“Trajimos bastante sábila, yeah?” you ask Kyle, and you know he’s worried even as he nods.

John doesn’t look so bad when he comes down. Everything seems to be fine with him, skin glowing with a golden touch that wasn’t there before. Honestly, it makes him look that much more delectable. He moves without hurting, taking the plates from your hands to help finish setting up the table. Ultimately, it’s his silence that gives him away, calling your attention from his body back up to his face. His nose is peeling, the freckles around his eyes sharply outlined in red, the apples of his cheeks rosier than you’ve ever seen them. 

“Are you that happy to see us, cariño?” Kyle immediately teases him. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you this flustered.”

John’s face goes darker as he truly blushes and you both blow him kisses. Then Johnny comes down and it knocks the wind from the room. 

This has to be one of the worst consequences of his impatience. In his rush to settle and have some fun, he didn’t rub the sunscreen into his skin. At all. He has patches of golden skin, matching where you remember the white of the lotion adorning his body, and in between them, large streaks of angry red. You can clearly see the outline of your fingers where you started to apply the lotion before he ran off. The curve of his shoulders is glossy from how tight the skin is from the burn, the freckles adorning his skin darkened by the almost purple tone. The center of his chest, the middle of his back, and almost his entire stomach are practically radiating heat. He doesn’t speak, standing in front of you and Kyle in absolute misery.

“I kinda wanna smack it,” you whisper to Kyle. 

He chuckles, matching your volume, “Think we can leave handprints on it?”

Johnny’s eyes widen and he drops into the chair furthest from you, clearly hearing you both. He keeps readjusting, unable to find a comfortable position in which the vinyl cover of the seat won’t pull at his skin. The room is silent save for the crinkling coming from the chilaquiles, the brown paper package adjusting to the heat of the food. 

“What is the first rule of taking care of tortilla boys?” you ask them, words coated in disappointment.

“Don’t die.”

“Come home.”

“Drink water.”

Kyle is already bubbling with a laugh, “Those are good rules, but you all know better.”

They look down, mumbling under their breaths, pushing at the tableware in front of them.

“Louder,” you sound a little too much like a parent with that word. 

“Don’t let the tortillas burn,” they say at once.

“And what did you do?”

“Let the tortillas burn.”

With that, you dish out the food and pull Kyle further into the kitchen with you, “Do you think they know why we call them that?”

He throws his head back and laughs, loud and from deep in his belly, and it sets off your own laughter. A minute full of cackling passes, both of you clenching at your bellies and backs, mirth so forceful you feel it in your bodies. You each wipe away tears and find the three white boys staring at you, confused.

“They’re about halfway there.”

[thebookbutterfly]

One of Simon Riley’s love languages is just The Stare TM.

Multiple times a day you will turn around and be faced with this giant man, just staring you down. Entirely locked in. Pupils the size of dinner plates.

Sometimes he’s in the corner of the room, other times he’s just looming over you. He’s so quiet it’s like he just appears out of thin air.

The poor man is like a moth drawn to a lamp. He can’t help it, he likes looking at you. :( Doing anything really. It’s an addiction more than a habit.

You don’t mind it. It’s kind of endearing seeing how wide his pupils dilate every time he catches a glimpse of you. ❤️

[kylemaclachlanfanatic]

A new photo of Kyle MacLachlan recreating an iconic photo of his character Dale Cooper from the tv series Twin Peaks, November 2024. 😍 And the other new photos of Kyle MacLachlan are for the Germany GQ’s “Man Of The Year” Nov 2024, Looking amazing as usual. ❤️‍🔥🥰

[sky-is-the-limit]

One big thank you to Elliot Knight. Thank you for playing Kyle and thank you for looking like a fucking Greek God and being the hottest MW character and though the Gaz nation isn't as big, we're definitely the luckiest bc GOD DAMN BOY I'M GOING FUCKING INSANE-

(I'm literally Greek so I can confirm, I sacrifice goodies to him every good ol' Tuesday evening)

[gloomwitchwrites]

Oml 😭 you’re stories continue to make my day, thank you so much! I was wondering if I can just get some domestic fluff with the task force 141

You're so sweet! Thank you!! I can absolutely write some domestic fluff. I've been working on Dog with No Teeth and some more suggestive prompts, and this is such a great break from it. Expect softness and gentle!141.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: domestic fluff, married life, softness, kissing

Word Count: 800

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if series

John Price

John wakes before you. He always does. It’s engrained in him—like clockwork.

In the soft rays of the early morning sun, John drinks his tea while reading over the weekend chore list you’ve made. It hangs on the fridge, clipped to the metal by a homemade magnet your youngest made in primary school. You have it in your head that you’re going to get up at a decent time and knock it all out.

It’s cute that you think so.

Especially since you’ve run yourself ragged all week, falling into bed completely knackered that you’re snoring in your sleep.

What you need is some rest, not an early morning full of activity. It’s the weekend. You belong on the porch with a blanket and book. With you in his lap, using him as a bed.

John finishes his tea and rinses out the mug, placing it in the dishwasher. He’ll make himself another once he wakes the children. Slipping into the bedroom, John goes for your alarm clock, turning it off. You deserve to sleep in. John can handle the work while you have some peace.

The littles won’t bother you. He’ll make sure you get some needed rest.

John "Soap" MacTavish

“Can you try this?”

Johnny comes around the kitchen island, leaning against the countertop as you scoop up some of the fluffy whipped cream. You present the spoon, an eager excitement glittering in your gaze.

Johnny opens his mouth, allowing you to guide the spoon inside. The tips of your fingers gently brush the underside of his chin. Closing his lips around it, you drag the spoon out slowly. The whipped cream melts on his tongue. It’s perfectly sweet.

“How is it?” you ask. “I’m a little worried it’s too sweet. Might overpower the lemon curd.”

“It’s perfect,” he purrs.

“Really?”

Johnny scrapes a bit of whipped cream off the top of the mixing bowl. Popping his finger into his mouth, Johnny sighs with contentment. Your smile grows, and Johnny can’t help but adore just how beautiful you are like this. It’s his favorite version of you.

As you reach for the lemon curd, Johnny grabs your hips, pulling you against him. A small giggle escapes you and Johnny loves the sound. Lowering his head, he teases the tip of your nose with his own until you’re flustered and wiggling. Only then does he close the distance for a kiss.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

It’s a Sunday afternoon. You and Simon have nothing to do. Nowhere to go. Peace and rest and simple pleasures only.

You’re snuggled up on the sofa, sinking against the cushions with a book in your hand. On the television, a trashy reality show plays at low volume. You’re not watching it, but it’s not for you.

Simon is curled up next to you, sprawled out and using your thigh as a pillow. A blanket is draped over him and covering your legs. He has one arm tucked behind your back and the other is resting across you, his large hand gently massaging the thigh he’s not resting his head on.

He’s watching the television, but his eyelids are heavy, chest moving in slow, shallow breaths. Sleep is creeping up on him.

Reaching out with one hand, you thread your fingers through his hair, lightly massaging his scalp. Simon sighs, snuggling a bit closer. Switching from his scalp, you move to his neck, and then his upper back, using your nails to tease his skin. You keep a languid place, moving back and forth across his skin.

There’s nothing better than this quiet moment with your husband. Shared. Simple. Perfect.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“Do you want some music?”

“I’d love that.”

Kyle walks over to the record player, fingers skimming over the collection of vinyl records. He reaches out to select one, and pauses.

“Just pick something,” you laugh, grabbing the dish soap.

“I will,” he chuckles softly, drumming his fingers against his bottom lip as he decides on which.

You roll your eyes, putting the stopper in the skin.

“Here we are,” says Kyle. As you start filling the sink with hot water, a jazzy number fills the room. Kyle grooves over to the vacuum, and you realize you’re grinning. Bopping his head and shaking his shoulders, Kyle switches on the hoover.

It’s routine then, the two of you moving around each other as you do your weekly cleaning. When you start dusting the ceiling fan, Kyle creeps up on you, hands falling on your waist.

“What?” you laugh, turning toward him, only to laugh harder as Kyle starts dancing up on you. “Stop,” you snort, playfully smacking at him.

“Dance with me,” he smiles, wiggling his eyebrows. Kyle offers you his hand, and you take it, the two of you coming together into a slow sway that makes you tingle everywhere.

[yeyinde]

kinda enamoured with the thought of our poor mc going to a dud of party but meeting Kyle and Johnny there (both looking as out of place as you feel) but instead of taking you home, they bring you back to Price and Ghost. a sweet little treat for them all to share.

and they're charming, of course. too charming. but alcohol numbs most of your inhibitions about how touchy they are. how physical. folding themselves into your space, leaning down to whisper in your ear when you can hear them just fine. hands on the small on your back. around your wrist. your waist. knuckles against your cheek—

god, you're such a pretty little thing, aren't you?

warm skin. breath that smells of thick, sweet cream and oaky black tea. hands curling under the hem of your shirt—shush, shush, doe, ahm jus' helpin' ye; yer hot, ain't ye? lemme help ye out o'yer jumper—thick, sunkissed fingers dancing over your skin.

you feel funny, you slur into his—Kyle, he huffs, grinning wide; wolfish: call me Kyle, sweet thing—neck, chasing the scent of spiced vanilla and wild, ripened plums. everything is spinning. spinning—

"god, he's gonna just love you—"

but they'll take you somewhere. home. you nod, nose tucked tight against his warm, steady pulse. "wanna go home—" you mumble into salt-tinged skin, and they laugh.

"oh, don't worry, beautiful. we'll get you right where you need to be."

you trust them, of course. let them usher you into their car, curled up against a broad, warm chest. lulled under a blanket of security wrapped tight in strong, firm arms. and if his hand wanders, fingers tickling the insides of your thighs. well—

you can't deny they're attractive. maybe you can get their number after and call them in the morning.

but that doesn't happen.

you wake to the sound of voices. hands sliding under your knees, around your shoulder. carried into a house that isn't your own—some strange cabin deep in the forest. the glow of the wood stove in the only light on inside, and you struggle to adjust to the thick orange haze.

"what's going on?" you ask, blinking at the sight that greets your liquid eyes.

Kyle places you down on a rug, holding your hips tight when you fumble. laughing, just a little, under his breath when you gasp.

sitting in an old, wooden chair is a man you've never seen before. big, broad. intimidating. his thick legs spread lazily—one kicked out against the rug, the other bent at the knee. and elbow rests on it. in his hand, a lit cigar. the other dangles, loose and lax, off the armrest. fingers curling, unfurling, into spasmic fists.

his eyes burn caeruleum in the flickering gold.

you fight back a shiver, but feel it slide like hot oil down your spine.

"what—?"

"my boys didn't explain it to you?" he asks, voice a rough, abrasive scratch in your head. gritty. porous. you feel it against your skin. fingers digging into your nape. bad girl. there's something about him that commands attention, and you give it easily as he tuts, pale lips pulling into a condescending sneer beneath the thick of his beard. "or maybe you just weren't payin' attention, sweetheart."

"attention to what—" sir almost trembles out. his lips twitch like he heard all the same. "i just want to go home—"

the hand dangling over the ledge flares to life. he flicks it careless around the room with a hum. "you are home."

"my real home—"

and then you see it.

he moves like liquid through the shadows. folds himself into the dark like its where he belongs. and you thought—and still very much do—the man sitting on his throne was large, intimidating, but it pales at the absurd height of this thing that slinks out of the corner with a heavy, laden gaze. powdered charcoal. endlessly black. flat, though. amused.

when he speaks, it's all brass. "what's this? Johnny brought 'ome a stray?"

"nah," you hear Kyle's grin. feel the phantom shift of sharp teeth against your neck. breathless laugher. warm hands. baby, you feel so good. "we found 'er in a club. lost little lamb."

"and you dragged her back to the wolf's den, mm?"

"you complainin', cap?"

it takes all of your willpower to tear your eyes off the man, but you manage. ripping them away until you find him—Price—again. he stares back with a lidded, heavy gaze. unflinching. hungry.

"not in the slightest."

Kyle purrs. "Johnny couldn't keep his hands off her, sir. might have some competition for who goes first."

cold air on your nape. dread bubbles up in your belly. "no—"

they continue like you hadn't spoken. like you don't exist. the man in the corner folds his thick arms over his broad chest, shaking his head a chainsaw-like grunt. laughter, you think.

but Price doesn't seem to find it nearly as funny. his teeth sink into the butt of the cigar with a growl. "gonna fight me for first, Sargeant?"

Johnny snorts, and rubs his finger under his nose.

"she's sweet," he murmurs, all wide-eyed and feverish. cheeks pinked under the warm spill of orange. "cannae blame a man fer wantin' such a pretty little thing—"

"back of the line," Kyle prods. and you wish his touch made your stomach churn, but that thread of intrigue, alcohol spooled want, still thrums in your veins.

"i just—" you stammer, eyes widening as real, tangible fear sets in. skewers into your belly. heart in your throat. the erratic echoes pounding in your ears. "i just want to go home."

"you are home, birdie—" he speaks and it feels like the walls shake. "didn't get a bright, did you, Johnny?"

"tha's mean, Lt—" his hands snake around your waist, pulling you into his hard chest. "didnae anyone teach ye 'ow tae chirp at birds?" the shorn sides of his Mohawk scratch against your cheek when he nuzzles, kittenish, against your face. "don't listen tae 'im, doe. yer th' sweetest, brightest lit'le thing—"

"mm, and such a bright little girl would know how to behave, wouldn't she?"

even with the alcohol dulling your senses—thoughts scattered and thin as two pairs of hands start pulling at your clothes, stripping you down to nothing—you can still see his words for what it is:

a threat.

as if to reinforce this idea, the man—Ghost, Johnny whines into your burning, stinging cheek, skin chafing from the graze of his buzzed sides: gotta 'ave a taste, Lt—moves, his body spilling out in a dizzying tumble of thick limbs. he stands by the door—the only one—and folds his arms over his chest once more, head cocking to the side as he stares down at you.

"don't worry, Johnny," he rumbles, lids slipping to half cresences over the ink black of his eyes. "i intend to."

the air stills when Price hums. your attention is pulled back to him instantly, but a part of you—all animal—halves it down the middle, keeping Ghost in your sights at all times. turning your back on him feels—

stupid.

you shiver.

Price shifts in the chair, reaching up for the cigar still pinched between his teeth. the look in his eyes is a startling, heavy thing. doom tastes like ash between your teeth.

"an' you're a bright girl, aren't you?"

it's not really a question. you nod anyway, feeling the fight in your body dissolve like wisps of smoke in the dense, thickened air. excitement, desire, hums—an electrical current—in the air, bubbling up between them. they move around you in a way that's dizzingly coordinated—a living, thrumming dance. stigmergy. as your clothes fall, as their hands grab your flesh, pinching and caressing, moaning in your ear about how soft you are, how sweet, one, horrifying thought thickens in the back of your head:

you know, then, that you're not going home.

"oh, sweetheart," Price drawls like he knows what you're thinking. a mocking little coo as he tucks his knuckles under your chin, lifting your head up to meet his burning gaze. there's something in there, you think. something awful. something hungry.

"you already are."

[bunny-jpeg]

you had how many kids? (141 + more)

long post - sorry!

captain john price -

the first time price sank his cock into you. it was game over. you are probably going to end up with at least six kids running around a big piece of land in the center of the british isle. equal split between three girls and three boys. the price genes must be strong because they all look like spitting images of their father.

price loves his wife though, he just thinks you're the sweetest thing since honey. after you put the kids to bed and you're in your bedroom, your darling husband can't help but hold onto you by the hips and maybe rub up against you. your softness, so motherly. it almost makes his mouth water. he tries to convince you for baby number seven but you just tell him that there's no way that's happening. but price is a cunning man and maybe a few mind blowing orgasms will change your mind.

simon 'ghost' riley -

your daughter was an accident. it was simon's last night at home before he got deployed again. and he spent that entire night sunk into your sweet cunt. you'd find out a month into his deployment that you were pregnant. worried about telling him, you kept it to yourself. you were anxious about the news throwing him off his game and him getting hurt. he needed to come home alive.

when he came home, he made sure he treated his missus right. while the pregnancy was a bit of a shock, he made sure he made up for lost time. and while that often had you on your back. it almost meant being spoiled by your husband. your daughter was close to being the biggest the hospital had delivered. you two would be content with your daughter, who took mostly after you. but within five years she would be going around proclaiming that she was going to be a big sister!

john 'soap' mactavish -

oh johnny was a smart man. he knew what he wanted and he got it with ease. he wanted to take you back home, settle you down in a night place in edinburgh. he was thinking in the stockbridge neighbourhood, where you and him could raise your kids in peace. the first time he held you in a mating press he knew that he wanted to be the father to your (many) children. he'd take care of ya, never let the mother of his children be without. he placed a sloppy kiss on your lips, a seal of his promise. you end up with two boys, only eleven months apart (the look you got from your doctor when she found out you were pregnant so soon). they were mactavish boys that was for sure. their father's dark hair and he winning smile.

johnny does want a daughter however, he imagined she'd be a spitting image of you. while he loved his boys, there was no question about that, he thought a daughter would complete your little family. curious eyes like yours, that beautiful smile. as he kissed your neck and dug his fingers into your soft hips. maybe he could convince you in a few years to try for one.

kyle 'gaz' garrick -

kyle never thought that he would've ever been a father. when he signed up for service, he didn't expect to be done with that role well beyond when it would be suitable to be a father. so your son was an accident. he could almost pinpoint the night of his conception. he was home from abroad and the two of you spent the entire night (and the following morning) becoming requited with your bodies. you giggled when he showed off his more toned muscles and his fingers got tangled in your hair. his dark eyes felt familiar, like home, under the soft light of your bedroom. The resulting time together produced his son.

you don't end up with a big family, while you two live in a decently sized home just outside the city he is content with it just being the three of you. he'd rather be the best parent to one then worse off to more. he was a good father to his son, proud of the little baby. even when he woke you both up at all hours of the night. it was life and kyle was happy. but when your son turned five, you had something to share with kyle. you were pregnant again. he had to admit, after that, the idea of having a few more kids wasn't a bad idea.

bonus! bonus! bonus!

phillip graves -

oh phillip wants a full house. he didn't buy that nice piece of land outside of houston for show. big yard, white picket fence, in a safe neighourhood (can't have you getting hurt!). he'd be living out his all american dream. so when you ended up pregnant five months after marriage with twins, he was beyond happy. he thought your pregnant body was beautiful, even well into your second trimester he was fucking that sweet cunt of yours. telling you how good of a mama you were.

phillip thought you were the best thing since sliced bread. even when the aches and pains of pregnancy come and go, he'd making sure that his wife is good. if he can't be around, he sends his shadows to make sure that you and the kiddos are alright. so expect a big, loving all american family. you'd never thought you'd be spending your twenties caring for almost five kids!

col. alejandro vargas -

alejandro wants you safe. and you being pregnant can cause some issues. it makes you a target, so you packed up your life and headed somewhere more quiet. most information about you was redacted from public and private records. he even went as far as to change your name and identification. it was for you, for him and for the daughter you eventually had. but despite that, when alejandro returned home. he was the shadow to your daughter. she knew who her daddy was. eventually when he can get out of the snare of the military, he was home. your little place in the middle of nowhere, he promised to protect you and your little bundle.

the times he visited while you were pregnant though. he loved to run his hands up and down your swollen middle. he smiled at you, almost proud of what he did to you. while you'd in the end have only your daughter, it was a complete home. and don't worry, after your daughter's birth he is more than willing to show how much he loved his sweet wife.

rodolfo "rudy" parra -

oh rudy, sweet rudy. he couldn't help himself. the first time you fucked, or rather made love, he knew he wanted to breed that pussy of yours. he was using a condom, but he could picture himself doing it bare backed. the feeling of your slippery cunt tight around him. nothing protecting you from accidents. he'd often daydream on his off time about the three kids you had. he had even picked names out for them, but he'd get your input on it as well. after all you were the beautiful woman who was carrying them. such a good wife to him.

he left the military when you got pregnant, as did you. life became less about the violent conflicts and more about raising your son. he was a quiet baby, and rudy adored him. he also adored his beautiful wife who worked so hard to give him his son. he reminded you of that often. you do end up with those three kids within a five year gap and rudy couldn't be happier.

könig-

oh, könig. he knew that you'd be carrying a big baby. like look at him, he towered over you and could easily bench you in your third trimester. so he wasn't expecting a whole army of children. one very large boy was enough for him. the 99th percentile. but he was there the entire time, he made sure that you were taken care of. he felt safe having his larger body up against yours, protecting it. he'd rub your belly with his large hand. even if you were very pregnant, you still were small compared to him.

he loves his son, obviously. the first time he held him, he almost cried. he was a father now. he had a wife and a child, a home to call his home and a place to feel safe. he was an attentive father, he was used to being up early. so you got to sleep in while he checked in on your son. he made sure to teach him german, english and a few of the other languages he had picked up. he was going to make sure his son knew all about the world. he was a proud father!

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Poly!141 x fem!Reader

TW: sexual content ahead, choo choo

Part 1

“Wake up, love.” A groan left your lips and you flipped over, burying your face further into the fluffy pillow beneath your head. “Five more minutes.” The dark chuckle behind you betrayed that it was John who was trying to wake you up. He rounded the four-poster, and you cracked an eye open, glancing at him “Do I really have to carry you downstairs?” Your lips twitched, and John immediately knew your answer. With a slight huff, he picked you up and carried you downstairs. He plopped down on the couch with you in his lap, as you cuddled up against him, your eyes closed again.

“Look at her, I think we tired her out too much last night.” Johnny chuckled, gently scratching your scalp and running his fingers through your hair. A pleased hum left your throat as you leaned into his touch. “Yeah, you hurting, pretty?” Kyle sounded concerned and you quickly felt his body heat behind you. “’ M fine.” The Sergeant chuckled, kissing your head, before standing up and walking away.

“Okay, time for breakfast, huh?” Your eyes shot open immediately and you glared at Simon, who stood next to the gigantic Christmas tree you had forced the boys to buy and put up. “No! You promised that we would open the gifts first thing if…if…” Simon grinned, his eyebrows raised as you began to grow bashful. “If what, love?” Your lower lip jutted out as you pouted. “If I were a good girl and took a few more…orgasms.” John chuckled behind you. “Look who’s awake now. Don’t tease her, Si. Let’s open the presents.”

And with that, the present marathon began. The guys got presents for each other and opened them one by one, thanking each other. They were usual guy gifts - alcohol, cigars, socks, etc. Things the others could use, but nothing overwhelming. By the time they were done, you had finally woken up enough to point to the presents you had gotten each of them.

Johnny was the first to unwrap his. It was an expensive sketchbook and art set he had been eyeing for some time, but never decided to buy. “Aw, bonnie. Thank you, I appreciate it.” You grinned. “Open it.” With a slight frown, he did as you told him to, his eyes widening as he saw what was decorating the front page. It was a beautiful portrait of the two of you. You had gotten his favorite indie artist to draw it for you and he even signed it. “No way!” With a giant grin, he jumped to his feet. “How did ya- no, when did ya-?” He jumped over the table that was separating him from you, not waiting for an answer. “You are amazing.” Still grinning, he bent down and pressed his lips to yours, keeping it chaste for the moment.

After Johnny pulled back, Simon reached for his present and ripped the wrapping paper off. He eyed the box for a few seconds, suspicious of its content, but finally opened it once you insisted that it was fine. To his surprise, he pulled out an old-looking camera, his eyes immediately jumping to yours the moment he realized what he was holding. “Where did you find this?” You shrugged, still wrapped in John’s arms. “Did some research. Is it the right one?” Still looking dumbfounded, he nodded. “Y-Yeah. It’s uhm…it’s the right one. Thank you.” You smiled at him, thinking back to when he opened up to you about his hobby when he was a child, how his mother had bought him a second-hand camera just so he could find some joy in life. You spent months trying to find the same model and make, and when you did find it, you knew it was the perfect present. You were so lost in thought that you didn’t realize Simon was standing right in front of you until you felt his lips against your forehead. “Thank you, love.” A smile formed on your lips as you gazed up at him. “Of course, Si.”

Kyle was next and he made quick work of the wrapping paper, just like Simon. He grinned the moment he realized what it was and skipped over, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “Thank you, sweets.” It was a quiet mumble against your lips before he kissed you again and pulled away. Johnny immediately grew curious, trying to see what you had gifted to Kyle, but the Seargent quickly pulled away, hiding the present. You giggled as you watched Johnny chase Kyle around until the left the living room, both of them yelling at each other. Simon glanced at you, a slight frown on his face. “Do we want to know?” Still giggling, you shook your head, thinking about the different colored yarn balls and crocheting needles. He had confided in you not too long ago that he wanted to try it, but was too shy around the others. You just hoped that he would see the encouragement and take it up.

“What about me?” John gently squeezed the fat on your hips, gathering your attention. “Oh.” You pointed at a small, beautifully wrapped box and Simon handed it to you. With his free hand, he took it, turning it over as if trying to guess what it was. “Just open it.” With a dark chuckle, he did, quickly shredding the paper and frowning as he saw that it was a watch box. But when he opened it, the frown disappeared and his eyes widened. “Where did you find this?”

A few months ago, during an op, his watch broke. Usually, that wouldn’t be all too bad, better the watch, that can be replaced, than his hand or wrist. But the watch was ancient, vintage as he called it and it meant a lot to him. He didn’t act like it, but it broke his heart whenever he looked at it, hidden away in the top drawer of his desk. And it broke your heart. So, together with Simon, you scoured all different kinds of jewelry stores and online until you found the exact same model, working and in good condition.

John closed the lid of the box and pulled you even closer against himself. "Thank you." His voice was barely above a whisper as he pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was gentle at first, his lips moving slowly against yours as his hand came up to cup your cheek. You melted into him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as the kiss deepened. But before it could go too far, Johnny and Kyle came barreling back into the room. “I want a hat.” The Scot was grinning at the other male. “I’m not making you a hat.” Kyle shook his head, but the grin on his face betrayed him. You and John pulled apart, him looking annoyed while you just chuckled at the familiar antics.

“Oh? You guys done?” Simon nodded as Johnny and Kyle sat down again, a smirk growing on their lips. “So, now it’s time for her presents?” And oh, there were presents. From lingerie and jewelry to plane tickets for your dream vacation. By the time you had unwrapped and opened all of them, Simon and Johnny had disappeared into the kitchen to make breakfast. “You guys are crazy. That’s way too much!” John shook his head, squeezing you tighter against him. “Nonsense. You deserve so much more.” Kyle interrupted the Captain. “And some of this may be compensation for having to put up with Johnny.” Immediately, Scottish curses sounded from the kitchen, making you chuckle.

“Thank you, guys. I love you. All of you.” John pressed a kiss to your cheeks, Kyle matching it on the other side, before both of them pulled away, making eye contact. “There is actually one more gift, wait here.” Price shifted you from his lap and sat you down on the couch, before he and Kyle disappeared, closely followed by Simon and Johnny who left the kitchen and followed the other two soldiers. You were curious but decided to be a good girl and wait patiently. While doing so, you glanced over all of your presents again, a font smile tugging on your lips. You really loved these idiots.

Someone clearing their throat pulled you out of your thoughts and you looked up, finding the four soldiers standing in front of you, naked, safe for a pretty bow wrapped around each of their cocks. “Ready for your final present, love?” They all grinned at you and you couldn’t help but grin back. Hell yes, you were ready!

A/N: If you're seeing this, it means I can finally upload again! Yay! Idk why but Tumblr wouldn't let me upload the last few days, no matter what I tried it didn't work. But whenever this goes up, I hope I can go back to my normal schedule! Love you guys!

[partiallysame]

*smooches your beautiful writing*

I wanna know what a grocery store trip with all the guys is like. Who's throwing unnecessary stuff in the buggy? Who's got the list? Who's ignoring the list completely? Who's got the calculator out? Who's mad they can't ride the buggy?

Ok ok ok Price is holding the list and you have the (sparkly) pen to mark stuff off. He keeps asking if you want to hold it bc you keep taking it from his hands. No that’s his job to hold it. You def have two buggies. Feeding and housing four giant fucking soldiers means a fuck ton of groceries. Simon is pushing one buggy and Kyle has the other but simon is about to push them both if Kyle keeps hitting the back of his ankles with the buggy. Johnny was going to push one but the second he grabbed it he stood on the bottom of it trying to balance and almost took you both out. Lost buggy privileges. You’re calling things out and they are grabbing them. A team with a mission. Kind of. “Eggs” got it. “Sugar” got it. “Milk” no Johnny that’s ice cream. Actually ok put it in. “Chips” and suddenly Kyle’s whole buggy is every flavor of chip. No put some back that’s too much. 20 min later the buggy is full and your list is complete. Except only Simon’s buggy is stuff on the list. Kyle and Johnny ran off and went rogue. Met you at the checkout with every sweet. Every snack possible. Sitting on top was a lil stuffed bear. “S’cute like you” ok ok fine you can get all your stuff. They’re lucky you like them

[beloveds-embrace]

Dukedom au masterlist (yes i need to update it ik) and we will not talk abt the abrupt ending 😭

The grand ballroom of glittered with the light of a thousand candles, their flames dancing across marble floors and golden fixtures hung from the ceilings. A symphony played softly in the background, a perfect complement to the hum of ongoing conversation and chatter. You stood at the center of it all, draped in a gown of midnight blue silk, embroidered with silver thread that mirrored the stars. A gift from Simon, one that had you staring at the beautiful dress in awe.

Tonight, you were the very image of grace and poise.

Your face and movements are calm and collected, hiding what you truly feel beneath. Lately, whispers of dishonor had begun circulating; rumors that your husband had fled a border skirmish back when he’d been deployed, abandoning his men, yet had paid for the matter to be buried. Vile lies, born of cowardice and malice. John’s name, his reputation, and the honor of your house were at stake; disloyalty towards the empire was seen as treason, and that was unforgivable.

You would not allow it.

The first spark of rage had ignited the moment you’d overheard the vile accusations from another lady, one of your more arrogant rivals who had laughed snidely. From there, the rumors spread like wildfire, poisoning the halls of the court and society.

But you were no stranger to such games like these. Tonight, after much planning, you’ll put an end to this farce.

You began with your loyal ladies-in-waiting. Each one owed their position to you, and in return, they offered their unwavering loyalty. “Listen carefully,” you instructed them during a private meeting in your sitting room, the door locked behind you. “Go into the court, the markets, the salons- anywhere whispers thrive. I want names, places, and patterns. Who speaks these lies, and who listens too closely?”

They curtsied and departed without hesitation, melting into the bustling world outside of the manor. Meanwhile, you turned your attention to your maids and house staff. Servants were the lifeblood of any noble house, privy to secrets thought hidden.

You met with them personally with Kyle’s help, ensuring they understood the stakes. “Speak subtly,” you said, your voice calm but firm. “Let it slip that those who spread these rumors do so for their own gain, that there’s no substance to the rumors. Plant doubt. Create cracks.”

“As you wish, my lady.” Kyle nods his head, hands on your waist. He leans down, and kisses your forehead, and you smile all sweet and pretty at him. “Whatever you want.”

While you wove your network of spies, John watched quietly from the shadows of the manor. Though he trusted you implicitly, he couldn’t help but feel a mixture of awe and unease. He didn’t want to doubt you, but he worried nonetheless for you.

In his study, he sat with Kyle.

“How’s she faring?” John asked, puffing a cigar as he leaned back in his chair. Papers were scattered on his desk, though they didn’t require immediate attention or replies. Pressed close to Kyle, bodies warm, he didn’t want to go back to working for now.

Kyle hesitated for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “She’s… efficient, John. The staff is utterly devoted to her even without my help. I’ve seen no signs of hesitation in her plans.”

John chuckled dryly, though there was a flicker of appreciation in his eyes. “I am not surprised. She’s scarier than any battlefield, Kyle. And they love her.”

With the groundwork laid, you began preparing to host a big gala at the manor. Invitations were sent far and wide, carrying the promise of exquisite dining, captivating entertainment, and the opportunity to curry favor with one of the most powerful families in the region.

None dared refuse.

Johnny worked tirelessly to ensure every detail of the menu was flawless, and though he would have helped anyways, he still enjoyed all the kisses he got as reward from yoh. “You’re pilin’ it on thick, Duchess,” he remarked one evening, wiping his brow as he inspected a rack of lamb. “Even for you.”

“This isn’t just a party, Johnny,” you replied, humming. “This is war.”

“War it is, then. Anything for you, bonnie.” he muttered, diving back into his work with renewed determination. After a very heated look from you that had him preening, though; he looked handsome in his element. And you’ll make sure to really show him your appreciation for all his hard work later, in the privacy of your rooms.

At every other gala and gathering, you moved through the crowd like a dancer with a purpose. You guided conversations subtly, planting seeds of doubt and faltering those who tried to be a bit too brave- and your reputation as a “people’s princess” helped so greatly. Your allies- the few you trusted among the nobility-played their roles perfectly.

Simon, especially. You had specifically asked for his help, curled warm and cozy on his lap one night. He’d kissed you breathless and told you he would always be there for you.

“Lord Marcan, was it?” Simon mused during one party, his glass of whiskey balanced effortlessly in his hand. The others immediately listen to him; though he isn’t the most talkative noble, his words carry weight. “I’ve heard some interesting things about him. Did you know he’s deeply in debt? I wonder how far a man would go to escape ruin.”

The other nobles exchanged glances, uncertainty flickering across their faces. You watched from a distance, satisfied as Simon delivered the blow with effortless charm.

Your web was nearly complete, each thread pulling tighter around Lord Marcan- the instigator of the rumors- until he had no room to maneuver. At the final ball of the season, the one hosted by you and John, you made your final move.

You descended the grand staircase as the guests gathered, your presence commanding attention. At your signal, the servants unveiled a surprise: a performance of actors reenacting a scene from an old skirmish. But this was no ordinary play; it was a dramatized retelling of that battle, one that highlighted John’s bravery and leadership even when Lord Marcan had tried to say John had fled that day.

The crowd was entranced, all earlier doubts finally wavering and shattering. You saw Marcan shift uncomfortably, his face pale as his lies unraveled before him and eyes turned towards him in disgust.

From the balcony above, John watched with Simon and Kyle at his side. “She’s terrifying.” he murmured, though his voice carried a note of awe.

Simon smirked. “You married a bloody tactician.”

Kyle simply nodded. “She fights for you, for us, John. And she wins.”

By the end of the evening, Lord Marcan was a broken man and his wife, Lady Marcan who had laughed at you by the rumor, was seething. Their allies abandoned them, their name tarnished by his cowardice and deceit and her aftions.

And the rumors about John’s supposed abandonment of his men? Gone.

That night, as you removed your jewelry in the quiet of your chambers, John approached you. His hands rested on your bare shoulders, his touch warm and grounding.

“You’ve been busy, beloved.” he said, his voice soft but laced with admiration.

“I did what needed to be done.” you replied, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “I know you could have simply challenged him to a duel… but we didn’t have full confirmation it was him who started. I had to do it this way.”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’re terrifying, love. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

From the shadows of the room, Simon leaned casually against the doorframe. “She’s not wrong, John. Best keep on her good side.”

Johnny’s voice echoed from the hallway as he came by with a tray of food. Kyle comes as well, carrying glasses of wine. “Aye, and keep feeding her. Keeps her from plotting.”

Kyle sighs, though he has a smile on his face as he sets the glasses down and instead comes to help you. “…he isn’t exactly wrong. You were incredible…. And scary.”

“Perfect, in other words.” John hums, an eyebrow raising. You do not have enough time to ask anything before he and Kyle are gently turning you around on the seat, face to face with John who kneels down. “You’ve worked so hard for me, for us, my Duchess. Let me take care of you now, hm?”

“John…“

“No more words, my love,” he shakes his head, Kyle’s hands reaching to unlace your dress, your corset, until your breasts spill out. John doesn’t even seem mildly bothered by the layers of your skirt, flipping them up until you are indecent in front of your men and he is face to face with your panties. The way they look at you, so much want…

You don’t mind. The slick spot forming speaks more than enough anyways.

“Tonight,” John murmurs, kissing your inner thighs. “Will be all about spoiling you, wife.”

[captainpriceslilwife]

pt. 2 of the well-loved gaz x insecure!reader post!! (This is kind of a bridge to pt. 3, so bear with me PLEASE! I have more ideas for the next part, but I needed to get there first lol...hopefully this is good idk im nervous abt my newfound audience)

[part 1, part 2, part 3]

The rest of his night passed in a daze. He couldn’t stop stealing glances at the tiny little picture on your license while Johnny and Simon argued with each other about what he should do to try to win you back - but he could barely hear a word they were saying as he wiped away the sticky-sweet drink that was still dripping down his face.

“Ah’d give her a second ta calm down, ya ken? Go in the mornin’ and give her a chance to find her head.” 

“Showin' up at her place unannounced after hanging onto her shit all nigh'? Yeah, that’d leave a good impression, wouldn’ it? No wonder you can’t get a bird, Johnny. Scarin’ ‘em all off.” 

“Ach, ye’d know what tha’s like, wouldn’ ye? Spooky fuckin’ bastard. Ah bet women run the second they see tha' stupid fuckin' mask-” 

"Whatever. Gaz, just give it to the bartender, yeah? Clearly she doesn't like ya'. She'll come back for it."

In the end, he ends up taking Johnny’s advice and decides to return your wallet in the morning – which maybe wasn't his smartest move. Especially since now he doesn’t have a lick of alcohol flowing through his system to calm him down as he walks along the sidewalk towards your place. He’s sure he looks crazy to everyone he passes – muttering to himself to try to coach himself through what he’ll say to you. 

“Hey! Nah, uh…hello, how are you? No, I- fuck…” He shakes his head as he looks down at your wallet, twiddling the zipper between his fingers as he mumbles under his breath. “Hi, I’m Kyle…I’m the one who, um…who made you...cry last night. Ah, shit.” 

He's never felt this way about a girl before - like a nervous, stuttering schoolboy. His heart feels like it's going to beat out of his chest, and he can feel the sweat beading on the back of his neck when he suddenly finds himself standing in front of your door.

You've got a sweet little welcome mat - covered in sunflowers and loopy letters - and he notices all the pots filled with plants and flowers that scatter around near your door. God, he's already thinking that you're the most precious thing in the world.

He doesn't know what it is about you that's affecting him so much. Is it because you rejected him? Is it a challenge to him? Does he just feel guilty? Or maybe it's because, for the first time ever, he's gone after a girl that he actually has to figure out. Women have always thrown themselves at him the moment he flashed a smile their way. But you...all you did was throw a drink in his face.

It takes him nearly a full minute before he finally knocks on your door, and he can't seem to figure out what to do with his hands as he waits for the sound of your soft, thudding footsteps to reach the door.

You're still puffy from crying yourself to sleep last night, but you open the door with a polite smile anyway - donned in your oversized cat pajamas without an ounce of makeup on - but your smile quickly falls when you recognize the man standing on your doorstep.

The unfortunately beautiful man who had woken up every insecurity you had in less than a minute of talking to you.

Your expression seems to cycle through a million emotions as you try to comprehend how he could possibly be here, but once you notice the teal wallet clutched in his hand, realization settles on your features as the embarrassment hits you.

He stands silent for a moment as he takes in how gorgeous you are despite your slightly disheveled appearance, and he can barely form a sentence as he lifts up your wallet with a sheepish smile. "You, uh…you left this at the bar, um…last night. Got your address from your, uh...your I.D.” Christ, he's lost all sense of charisma hasn't he? He holds onto the wallet for a horrifyingly awkward amount of time as he stares blankly at you, but he finally comes to his senses when you mumble out a quiet 'oh, thanks' and reach out to take it.

“I’m Kyle, by the way.” 

He's never seen a girl look at him with such guardedness before - with your arms crossed protectively over your chest as you give him a tense smile. He can't tell if it's because of the whole incident from the night before, or if you're just freaked out that a total stranger went through all the effort to bring your wallet directly to where you live.

Probably both.

You clearly return his greeting just to be polite, murmuring your name quietly as you place your wallet off to the side.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” He lets out an awkward laugh, but quickly backtracks when you shoot him a funny look. “I mean, from your license! I-It’s got your name on it. I only know it because it's...it's on the license.” He stutters out quickly as he shoves his hands into his pockets. God, he's losing it. His heart feels like it's going to explode. “I, um…it’s a gorgeous name, by the way. Suits you, you know?” 

The compliment slips out naturally, but it only makes you tense up even more, and you suck in a tight breath as you begin to shift on your feet. Your fingers are itching to reach for the door to slam it in his face - arrogant prick thinking he can keep up his act from last night even though he practically sent you into a fit - but he interrupts your spiraling thoughts with a heavy sigh as he drops his charming smile.

“Hey, I...I just really wanted to say that I'm sorry, love. I didn’t mean to upset you like that last night.” His demeanor changes so drastically that you can't help but soften a bit, melting underneath his warm, pleading eyes enough to listen to him. "I think we had a bit of a misunderstanding...I wasn't making fun of you, love. Honest."

He seems so genuine about it that you can't help but feel a bit guilty. You had tossed and turned all night thinking about how shocked he had looked after your little outburst. You tried to stave of your regret by telling yourself that he had come over to you only to make fun of you like everyone else does, so technically he deserved it - but now you weren't so sure.

“Oh, well…I’m sorry for, you know…throwing my drink in your face.” You murmur sheepishly as you look down at your welcome mat - tracing one of the flowers with your fuzzy slipper before tilting your head back up to look at him with burning cheeks. “Wasn’t very mature of me."

“No, no, no...it's fine, really! If anything, I'm sorry you had to waste your drink on me. I mean, I know how pricey that place can get.” He lets out another laugh, but it's a bit less tense this time, especially when he sees the way your lips almost quirk up into a smile. It makes him feel bold enough to try to bring back the charm, and he can't stop himself from asking you, “You know…maybe I could, um…make it up to you sometime? Could buy you another drink?” 

But once again, you pause. His persistence only makes you more suspicious of his motives, and it shows in how you tighten your arms across your chest. He can see your eyes flash with a pang of hurt, and he feels his heart clench as he fumbles over himself, growing less sure by the second. “O-Or just a coffee, maybe?” 

“...Look, Kyle…” His heart leaps in his chest at the sound of his name on your lips, but your guarded tone is enough to smother the warm, fluttery feeling that had been building in his stomach. “Thanks for bringing me my wallet, but you’re wasting your time. I don’t know what kind of bet you have going with your friends, but I’m not going to fall for it, okay? I'm not...I'm not stupid.” 

Stupid? His expression falls once more, and he gives you the most genuine look he can muster as he speaks up quietly. “I...I don't think you're stupid. There’s no bet, love. Honest.”

“A dare, then.” 

“No dare, either.” 

You let out a frustrated sigh and roll your eyes a bit before resting your hand on your hip, but your irritated demeanor doesn't hide the way your eyes are beginning to grow a bit watery and bloodshot as you murmur quietly. “Well, why are you doing this, then?” 

His eyebrows furrow as he looks down on you, and he can't help but shake his head in disbelief as he takes a small step towards you. God, you were absolutely breaking his heart. Did you really think it was that unbelievable that he could like you? “I already told you, love. I think you’re absolutely gorgeous…and I know you don’t seem to like hearing that, but it’s true. And I know you're not just a pretty face, I just...I don't know anything else about you. But I'd like to...I'd like to get to know you.” 

You don't seem moved by his words, but he can't see how your heart begins to pound wildly in your chest, grasping onto the small bit of hope that you had desperately tried to push down. You'd spent so long trying to protect yourself from feeling this way about someone, and he's already managing to sneak past those walls you had built up.

But your mind keeps replaying every moment of disappointment you felt when it came to men 'asking you out' - how people would laugh behind your back when you would get excited for a date with a guy they all knew was just messing with you, or how a boy in your class straight-up laughed in your face when you thought he was being serious about being his date to the prom. 'Shit, she actually fell for it! Damn, I didn't think she'd have the nerve to say yes! Ah, right, well...sorry love...just havin' a bit of a laugh, yeah? All in good fun.'

No, no, no...you couldn't fall for something like this again.

He can see the look in your eyes as you stay silent, and his heart pangs with guilt when he realizes how much he's probably torturing you. He decides to put you out of your misery, so before you can open your mouth to reject him again, he raises his hand to stop you. "Yeah, alright...I understand." A pathetic smile graces his features, and you can't help but feel a bit guilty at the look of disappointment on his handsome face. "Can't blame a guy for trying though, aye?"

You can't even tell if you're disappointed or relieved that he's finally given up, but you give him a grateful smile as you nod your head in understanding. Couldn't expect a guy that looks like that to put in too much effort with someone like you, right? "Right...yeah...thank for um, understanding."

"Of course..."

God, this is awkward.

The both of you stand and stare at each other for another moment longer before he turns to leave. But just as he turns to go, he stops in his tracks and thinks to himself for a second before letting out a puff of air before turning back to you. "Don't happen to have a pen, do you, love?"

You blink in surpise at the randomness of his question, but eventually nod your head and disappear for just a second before returning with one in hand.

If only you could see how nervously he tapped his fingers against the side his leg while he waited for you to come back - a habit he only ever indulged in when he couldn't contain his anxiety on missions. Something his captain always ragged on him for.

Yeah, he was absolutely hung up on you.

He tries to ignore how soft your hand is when he takes the pen from you, but he can't ignore the way your touch zaps up through his arm and straight to his heart. And from the way you tuck your arm back against your chest with hot cheeks, he can't help but wonder if you felt it, too.

He pulls a crinkled receipt from the pocket of his jacket as he gives you a nervous smile, almost like he's waiting for you to scold him for trying again. And if it isn't the most charming thing you've ever seen... “Listen…if you change your mind-“ His hand moves quickly to scribble something on the small piece of paper, and when he hands it to you, you see his number written in handwriting that is frustratingly neat for a man in a rush. “-just let me know. No pressure, of course. I’ll fuck off if you want me to, but…just thought I’d give you the option. Don’t think I could live with myself if I didn’t at least offer to make it up to you.” 

And you take that stupid, crinkled piece of paper from his hand against your better judgement, and to your chagrin you can feel your cheeks burning brightly enough for him to see. Luckily for you, he can't see the way your heart is dancing around in your chest at the prospect of actually having a chance with him.

"Right...ok." You mumble quietly as you stare down at his number, toying at the edges of the paper with your thumb before his voice catches your attention once more.

“Well, um…I should get going. I hope you have a good day, darling.” A part of you was horrified to realize that you didn't want him to leave just yet, but you just nod your head stiffly as he backs away from your doorstep. And god he gives you that handsome, charming smile one more time before he turns on his heel and calls over his shoulder. "I hope I get to see you again."

And you wave at him so awkwardly as he walks away, like a deer caught in headlights, but it makes his heart flutter all the same. He hopes that even if he doesn't get a chance with you, someone else will realize what a catch you are. Someone who will treat you the way you deserve. Someone like him.

It's not until much later in the day - when he's stuck in a briefing and trying not to fall asleep with Price's voice droning on johnny's already drooling on the table - that his phone vibrates in his pocket. He sneaks it out underneath the table to take a quick glance to see who could be messaging him, and his heart practically leaps out of his chest when he sees an unfamiliar number.

‘ok...maybe just one coffee.’

He can't help but smile to himself as he reads it, and before he can begin to type out a response, another message pops up on his screen. And another. And another.

'i mean, only if you're still interested, of course.'

'no pressure or anything :)'

'oh, this is y/n by the way!'

Yeah, you might be the sweetest girl he's ever met.

A/N: do I like this that much??? eehhhhhhhhhh idk. but i kept going back and forth and rewriting and deleting and i finally decided to put myself out of my misery. again, i'm so so so grateful to everyone who requested a part two for this and left support on the original post so i hope this meets everyone's standards! pls feel free to leave suggestions in my inbox or in the comments if there's anything specific you want to see (or request something else entirely)! i also wouldn't mind writing any alternate parts of the story if ppl request it so pls dont hold back! pls stay with me for pt. 3!!! also sorry if you requested to be tagged and i missed you!

Tag list: @vixyyvix, @little-mini-me-world, @miyo-0oo, @milanriol, @z-wantstowrite, @nexthyperfix

[kylemaclachlanfanatic]

I met you in the dark, You lit me up, You made me feel as though, I was enough. ❤️‍🩹🥹🫂

[halfadiamond]

You Think It’s Love- Part 4

Masterlist

CW: angst, the men get what they deserve

The men are confused as to if love is here when they finally notice something is off with you. It’s something subtle like moving a block a tiny bit to the left because it looks better that way, nobody would notice unless they looked at it hard enough.

And the men did look hard enough at it and noticed the change.

—

For Johnny, it was when all the men got ready for bed and were starting to get comfortable in their spot when he noticed something was wrong. Rather than let John use him as his personal teddy bear, Johnny sat up and looked around the room as if looking for something. Before they could ask what Johnny was looking for, he got out of bed and opened the bedroom door and peered into the hallway.

The only thing the men could do was stare in confusion as they saw Johnny looking out as if waiting for something to come. It took a few seconds more before he looked back at them a bit confused and asked:

“Why hasn’t the Bonnie come to bed?”

Oh. He was right, you hadn’t come to bed. Now that they think of it, when’s the last time you’ve slept in the bed with them?

The only thing Kyle could do was stretch his arms as he sat up, he pondered about the answer before he found one that satisfied everyone’s curiosity.

“Maybe she fell asleep in the guest bedroom. I think she’s been having a lot of online work meetings, she probably didn’t want to disturb us.”

That answer worked for Johnny as he nodded. He took one last look into the hallway before deciding his next move.

“She should be done right? It’s late, I haven’t cuddled with her in awhile. I’ll go get her.”

Before anyone could say anything, Johnny took quick steps out of the bedroom and into the hallway before going into the guest bedroom.

For Johnny, he realized something was wrong when he saw you sleeping alone in the guest bedroom. But why? You had a bed. With them. Your boyfriends. Why sleep alone?

Oh well. He’d talk about it tomorrow with you, but for now he wanted to cuddle with his Bonnie. He stood over the bed as he shook you gently, he kept shaking you until he saw your eyes open. It was weird to see you look at him with so much confusion, but never mind that. Johnny reached out his hand as he spoke to you.

“Cmon Bonnie. Let’s go to bed, I wanna cuddle with ya, haven’t done it in a long time.”

Johnny who was expecting for you to give him that sweet smile as you took his hand was left perplexed as you shook your head and got comfortable in the bed again.

“No thank you Johnny. I’d rather sleep alone.”

You spoke very softly, perhaps you didn’t want the men to overhear you or maybe you were just too tired to really talk. Johnny didn’t investigate too much into that as he nodded and walked out of the bedroom, looking like a kicked puppy.

Johnny isn’t sure if love is here when he returns back to bedroom, gets into bed with his lovers, but doesn’t feel right sleeping knowing that you’re sleeping alone in another bedroom.

—

For Kyle, he realizes it when doing his weekly grocery store run. It’s common to do these runs often especially when there’s many mouths to feed and a lot of laundry to be done. Kyle enjoys the peace that comes with strolling through the aisles so he’s often the one that volunteers to go.

Kyle looks through each aisle, he likes to see if there’s anything he can stock up on or maybe just see if he can buy it because he wants it. He goes into the beauty aisle because he remembers that Simon is almost out of face wash and if he runs out then he’ll go for Kyle’s much more expensive face wash. Kyle can’t have that so he’ll grab it now before he has to witness Simon lathering on his face wash.

He finds it quick and grabs a bottle… well actually he’ll grab two so that he can be sure that he won’t have any incidents in the future. It’s while he about to leave the aisle that he notices that the employees had put a bunch of sheet masks on sale. While he should’ve just ignored it and headed off to pay, it was like those sheet masks were trying to reach out to him. Like an annoying spam call that keeps calling you hoping that you’ll pick up.

Kyle chose to pick up the call and realized why they’re calling out to him. He hadn’t done a self care day with you in awhile. Now that he thinks about when’s the last time he’s spent time with you? He can’t remember. The last time you tried to spend time with him, he brushed you off in favor of going to a bar with Johnny.

Maybe buying those masks would be nice. He could buy a few extra things, you two could pamper each other, and maybe if you guys were lucky enough you could get one of your boyfriends to join in. Lord knows that those men don’t understand the concept of facial care, it was always you or Kyle getting them to put on the face masks.

With that in mind, Kyle grabbed a few packs of sheet masks and he looked around the store for extra stuff to buy. He’ll grab a few of your favorite snacks, maybe he’d grab a movie (something cheesy, he can’t remember the last time he heard you laugh) and if he remembers right you should be off from work today.

It’ll all be perfect.

Kyle thinks to himself as he heads off to pay.

Kyle is confused as to if love is here when he comes home and sets everything up on the living room table. He has all the masks spread out for you choose, different bowls filled with your favorite, and a movie ready to be played. He hears the front door open and close as he sees you step into the living room. He doesn’t like that expression on your face when you see him, like you weren’t expecting him to be there and looking closely, he notices that you have a gift bag from a museum.

Who’d you go to the museum with? It wasn’t him or the men because they were all out doing their own errands. Did you go by yourself? But why? You could’ve told him and he would’ve went with you. Why didn’t you want to spend time with him?

He’ll figure that out later but now he wants to spend time with you. He gives you a soft smile as he gestures to the table. He sees your eyes follow to the table and you don’t really look that much fazed as you look back at him in confusion. He pats the spot next to him as he speaks up.

“Haven’t had a self care day with you in awhile. I got these sheet masks we can use and I got a movie we can watch apparently it’s about a giant cockroach invading the city.”

Normally you would’ve joined him, you would’ve picked out your mask and decide which snack you want as he plays the movie. Sometimes you guys would even pick out masks for your boyfriends and have (force) them to use it, but that was in the past as you shake your head and grabbed your bag closer to you.

“No thank you Kyle. I have to catch up on work.”

You don’t wait for his response as you hurried off to the guest room, closing the door and shutting him out.

Kyle doesn’t think that love is here when he watches the movie by himself, but he really can’t find himself to laugh at the horrible CGI because he’s stuck wondering why didn’t you want to hang out with him.

—

For Simon, he realizes it when he gets ready to go out for his nightly walks. While he knows that his lovers don’t like it when he leaves for them, he’s grown to enjoy the time spent just quietly reflecting on whatever’s on his mind. He never tells them that but he thinks they already know.

Most of the time, it’s always Kyle who hates when he leaves for them. Kyle always felt that Simon would be a prime target for someone to hurt him which seems a bit weird considering his stature if anything he’s sure that everyone else is scared that he’ll hurt them but fine maybe Kyle knows something he doesn’t.

But as he gets ready to leave, he’s about to grab his keys and his gun (that John makes him take) when he spots your keys also on the counter top. He looks around a bit expecting to see you come out, ready for a walk with him but you don’t come. You know the time he goes for them, and you normally go with him so where were you?

It’s been a while since you went with him, it’d be nice to have some alone time with you. He likes these walks with you because he likes to hear you talk. You talk about anything that’s on your mind, sometimes it’s about how Johnny forgot to change the toilet paper again, how you really love your job (which is surprising because you always complain about it), or your hopes for the future with them.

Sometimes, he’ll join in with his own commentary but sometimes he’ll just give you a nod or lightly brush his thumb on your hand letting you know that he’s listening. It’s nice. It’s peaceful. And now he’d like to have another walk with you.

He has an idea as to where you might be as he goes into the guest bedroom, he gives a quick knock and hears a come in. When he opens the door, he sees a scrapbook that you’re working on. A scrapbook? You never told him about this. You tell him everything because you know he never judges. So why aren’t you talking to him anymore?

This walk will definitely help in reconnecting with you. He’ll ignore how you don’t look ready for walk, you look more prepared for bed, it’s okay he can wait a bit while you get ready. He’s patient.

“Aren’t you coming on the walk?”

He speaks somewhat gruffly. He expects you to look at the time, realize that you lost track of time, laugh and then promise to get ready quickly.

But you don’t do that, you don’t even look interested in going out with him.

“I’m too tired for a walk.”

Was all you said as you went back to your scrapbook.

Simon wanted to talk back, maybe a small part of him wanted to ask if he can join you then, anything to hear you talk to him but he can tell that you rather be alone. And he does leave you alone.

Simon isn’t sure that love is here when he takes his walk because this is something he enjoys doing. But now? He can’t find himself enjoying this as much as he’d much rather have you here.

—

For John, he realizes it when he books a reservation at a nice restaurant for you and him. He books it because he can’t remember the last time, he took you out on a date just you two.

He also books it because his lovers have been complaining that you’re getting distant from them and they’re not sure why. He thinks this date will help him get to the bottom of it. He thinks it’s just work that’s making you distant, in his opinion, he’ll bring up that topic again. Where he tells you to quit your job and stay home, your job clearly stresses you out, so why not quit? They can provide for you until you find a better job or if you don’t want to work anymore then that’s fine too.

Don’t you trust them to take care of you? They all love you dearly. Don’t you trust them to tell them about any issues you have? Anything that’s bothering you, they’ll help you get through it. That’s what lovers do.

John waits by the living room, he counts down the time till you come home from work. He knows that today, you get off early for what reason he isn’t sure. He just knows that you never ask and leave when told.

Right on cue, he hears the door open and shut as he sees you step into the living room. You put your bags on the floor as you spot him. You look like a little mouse, who’s about ready to run. But he won’t let you, at least until he tells you about your date for tonight.

“Got us a reservation at that steakhouse. Tonight at 7:30.”

As he expected, he sees you get ready to object. Fine then. He’ll see what you have to say. He’s fair. He’ll listen to you.

“Can’t you take someone else? Johnny was just complaining that he’s dying for a good steak.”

“No I can’t. Johnny’s always wanting a good steak. I booked it with you in mind.”

It was like a Pokémon battle with every excuse you had not to come, he had something to counter back with. In the end, he won the battle as he got you to agree to go on the date.

When it came time to go, he waited by the door for you and while he was about to yell out a reminder that if you guys didn’t leave now you were going to be late (something he always got used to doing with Kyle, who for some reason always needed to triple check his outfit), you came out from the guest bedroom, and heavens you were stunning. You always knew what to wear, how to do your hair, and how to do your makeup (always the right amount).

He was quick in taking your arm as he took you out to the car, not without calling you the prettiest woman he’s ever seen. He was sure that whatever was the issue, he’ll be able to find it out with this date especially as he saw that small smile you had when he complimented you. Whatever was bothering you, he’ll figure it out and then he’ll discuss with the men what to do. But for now, he wants to enjoy this time with you.

Being at the steakhouse was nice. He can’t remember the last time, he’s taken you out and that gives him even more of a reason to check in on you. He tries to bring up stuff that you liked, old discussions that you two had, and hell he even brought up your work to see how it is going. But you weren’t receptive at all.

You were choosing to give small talk instead of that full length conversations that he was used to having with you. To him, it looked like you didn’t even want to be here, you were messing with the napkin more than you were giving him attention. It felt like a first date where it’s obvious the other person isn’t that into them.

John isn’t sure that love is here when he’s stuck on trying to get his sweet love to talk to him again, like old times.

—

Tonight, you chose to go out with your friends especially after texting them about your troubles, and as expected they quickly turned against the men.

What’s their issue?

How can they treat u so badly and then act surprised that u don’t want to be with them. 😤

That’s it they’re officially the garbage men 🗑️ the trash gets taken out tomorrow, put them out there

It was nice, having friends like them, someone who stood by your corner especially when you felt so alone. But it was also weird to see how differently your boyfriends (can you even call them that?) were treating you now. Johnny was acting more clingy than before (he’s always wanting to cuddle with you), Kyle was always looking for something to do with you, Simon started participating in scrapbooking, and John’s always picking you up from work.

You weren’t quite sure what was going on, but for now you want to enjoy your time with your friends. It could help seeing the relationship from an outside perspective. You checked yourself out in the mirror and smoothed out your outfit, fixing anything that needed to be fixed before grabbing your bag. Apparently they wanted to treat you out to some drinks, help relieve that stress they said.

You didn’t feel like questioning it as you left the guest bedroom as walked towards the door. You heard some movement from the living room as you saw the men looking at you from the couch (they look like a bunch of meerkats). You already knew what was coming.

“Where are you going?”

Kyle questioned as he and the men eyed your outfit. They definitely wanted to know where you were going wearing that outfit.

“To the club.”

You said as you checked your bag one last time, making sure you had everything you needed. You expected them to nod and let you be, but you didn’t expect to see Johnny get up from the couch.

“Can I come with? I’ll go put on a nicer outfit and then we can take off.”

It was funny, just thinking of how you were in their same place, wanting to go with them on their date. But they rejected you and now you were rejecting them.

“You can’t. It’s for me and my friends.”

That’s all you wanted to say and all you told before you left.

Your boyfriends aren’t sure that love is here as they are stuck, sitting on the couch, wondering what went wrong and how they can get their sweet girl back.

Simon: 🧍‍♂️, Kyle: my baby 🥺

Deleted Scene: Graves who used to go out on the walks too, stops because Simon used to chase him. (Simon was doing the trend of making sure they get home safe)

I never watched/or played Pokemon that much, I was a Digimon girl

The guys sad on the couch: ☹️, you having the time of your life at the club: 💃

[ink-n-shadow]

i saw this post about types "talking you through your orgasms" and i had to discuss the types that the 141 men would be. i couldn't stop myself

TALKING YOU THROUGH IT

𝜗𝜚 the one about how the CoD men talk you through your orgasms

𝜗𝜚 characters: john price, kyle "gaz" garrick, john "soap" mactavish, simon "ghost" riley (reader is gender neutral) 𝜗𝜚 cw: smut (minors—DNI), praise kink, dirty talk, slightly mean!simon, unedited 𝜗𝜚 a/n: lmk how we feel about the slightly different format (i'm still making edits but)

john price is definitely cooing softly in your ear about just how pretty you look, just how sweet your hole looks stretched out on three of his thick fingers, just how beautiful you look with drool slicking down your chin and unshed tears clinging to your lashes. “fuck, jus’ look at ya, doll—so fuckin’ pretty all split open on my hand, yeah? no, don't close yer thighs when ya come—wanna see how pretty y'look when ya tighten up 'round my fingers." doesn’t stop praising you or blabbering on about how pretty you look even after his softening cock slips out from between your thighs, his spend tricking out of your used hole and your tearstained face hidden away in the crook of his neck.

kyle garrick is the giggling kind, nose buried deep in the hair at your temple and his lips curled up into a smarmy grin as the rough pads of his fingers glide across the slick, molten flesh of your arousal with practiced ease. "feels good, yeah? got your legs just right tremblin', 'nd I've barely even started, sweetheart. shhh, shhh—'m only teasin', baby. tell me how good it feels." and he's totally the type to make you keep talking as he bullies his fingers into your heat, stopping every single time your words jumble together and your whiny moans begin to overpower your coherence. "keep talkin'—y'don't want me to stop, do you? s'what i thought—go on, then. what were you saying about my fingers hitting something just right?"

johnny mactavish is the condescending kind, azure eyes focusing on the way your eyes slowly cross as another orgasm ravages your nerve-endings and makes a scoff fall from his lips. "again, birdie? dinnae think y'had it in ya—how many's tha'? three, right?" but he's not slowling the pace of his thick fingers as they continue practically carving out your insides, fingertips mashing against that one spot that had your brain melting out your ears and moans slipping off your tongue. even the kiss he leaves against your forehead seems condescending, a knowing grin on his face as he feels your gooey insides gripping onto his fingers tighter. "yeah, tha's right—gimme a fourth. y'can do it, birdie—then i'll fuck my cock into ya, i promise."

simon riley is the (sometimes, not all the time) degrading kind, honeyed eyes meeting yours in the mirror in front of your bed as he forces you to watch the way his fingers disappear between your slick thighs. "look at tha', pet—greedy fuckin' hole, innit? already got three fingers 'nd you're practically beggin' for more, huh?" you would've answered him if he hadn't have stuffed your underwear between your lips, your eyes fighting to stay opened as your toes begin curling in the impending crest of your high—only for simon to rip his fingers from your fluttering hole, instead shoving the lube-covered fingers into your mouth until his middle finger brushes the back of your throat and the underwear slips out amongst the gagging. "didn't say y'could cum, did i? no (shaking your head for you with his fingers still buried in the back of your throat), don't think i did. knew you were a greedy lil thing—c'mere, be a good pet and suck me off."

©️ ink-n-shadow 2024

do not copy, plagiarize, steal, borrow, or repost any of my work without my expressed permission

[dante-mightdie]

WAIT! you just said peaky blinders au right???? 🤭🤭🤭🤭

you know the scene john shelby gets married, like he doesnt know that he's getting married? if tommy told him, then he would have not even have considered that idea? but then ends up with the longest lasting marriage and the prettiest wife? MAKE IT SIMON I BEG MAKE IT SIMON

for reference: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z-a63i2nWz4&pp=ygUecGVha3kgYmxpbmRlcnMgZ2V0dGluZyBtYXJyaWVk

love your writing xoxo <3

yes yes yes yes yes to all of it

when he finally realises what he’s there for, who’s wedding he’s dressed up for? he kicks off big time. yelling, cussing, calling john every name under the sun for betrothing simon away without even consulting him. he doesn’t want to get married. he’s a guard dog, a mutt. his rough tongue peels the meat from bones, not taste the gentle skin of a wife

and yet here he stands, lifting the veil of who he now knows as the most beautiful woman in the world. his head turning to look at john, soap and kyle with a wolfish smirk. your nervous eyes looking up at him, pouted lips reading out the vows you prepared for him. how sweet, but he’ll have to make up for his lack of sweet words tonight when he takes his new bride to bed

but the insinuation that you needed to be married because you were becoming to ‘wild’ for your family to handle and john knows simon could wrangle you no problem. except he has no intention of doing so, using his dirty money to buy you a lovely home on the edges of the city. he’ll do the long journey into centre everyday, no problem. as long as your happy

bejewelled dresses, lavish jewellery. plush sheets and soft pillows. sweet wines and tender meat. anything to keep you happy

[girlfromflor]

part 3 | supersoldiers!141 x f!reader

they were, indeed, fucked. as a matter of fact, there’s no explaining just how much. you were trouble, big trouble they quickly noticed, especially with the way you’d rest your thumbs on your tactical belt whenever you got a break from training. simon – always the attentive one – pointed it out three days after you met and they all started to get distracted as soon as you hooked your thumbs on the loops of your pants, fingers thoughtlessly resting on your upper thighs.

when training started getting more tiring to all of them – probably your fault, but they didn’t question  – simon would move to your side to give you one advice or two, but before he even started talking you’d – pretend to – shift your attention somewhere else. he wanted to grab you by the shoulders and shake you, say something like “pay attention to me” and lecture you on how to keep your posture straight even while holding the heavy rifle in your smaller hands. he didn’t, of course, but he started praising you whenever you did a good job, trying to make you get used to the feedback and also get used to him – maybe you’d seek him out, then.

johnny watched it from afar, how simon suddenly seemed less blunt and more careful – he liked it more than he’d ever admit out loud. against his will, johnny kept his distance from you, not wanting to overwhelm you and piss you off or make you uncomfortable, so kyle had to step up and take his place. which sucked, because they all – very quickly – realized that kyle didn’t really like you. they didn’t know if it was because you were clearly more comfortable around stone cold, small talk simon than around him – sweet, caring and beautiful kyle. it didn’t make sense in his head and it pissed him off. john laughed whenever a pout made its way to kyle’s lips because you – in kyle’s words – “didn’t say a word and then just left the room” when he walked by your side during knife throwing practice. john thought it was cute, how gaz didn’t notice the way your eyes wandered the room whenever he was talking to you, but then as soon as he wasn’t looking, you’d gawk at him with an unknown glint in your eyes.

“she’s got a crush on ya, kyle,” john comments after hearing another one of the younger man’s complaints, all of them tired and sleepy after dinner – the exhaustion from the end of the first week with you around settling deep in their minds.

kyle snorts and shakes his head, “uh huh, i bet she does,” his tone is overflowing with irony. “where did ya even get that from?”

johnny, who’s resting his head on simon’s lap – laying down on the other sofa in their living room – is quick to answer, “ye dinnae see how she drools over ye, when ye nae lookin’.”

simon smiles, his relaxed expression clear due to his unmasked face. he adds to johnny’s words, his eyes on kyle, “bloody irritatin’, it is. i always try t’make her look at me but she keeps all her attention on ya.”

kyle furrows his brows, but he can’t fight the proud, content smile that molds his features. he has to bite his lower lip to contain at least some of it, but even then it’s clear that he’s happy with the words. “i’ll believe it when i see it.”

and he did, because two days later he has to fight you – literally – during training. you're faster and stronger than they thought you’d be, in a way none of them had seen before in someone that wasn’t already part of the team – you mostly did gunfight simulations, this was the first hand-to-hand combat training. kyle’s is delighted to knock you off your feet, pinning your hands down to prevent you from attacking him, but you're too quick. you plant your feet to the ground and use all the strength you have in your legs to push him off of you with a hip thrust. he’s caught off guard, which gives you enough time to move over him, left knee on the grass and right knee threatening to squeeze his throat – it was over, you won. he taps your thigh twice and you quickly move to stand up, surprising him when you extend your hand out – he gladly accepts it, taking any excuse to touch you.

“you’re fast,” he points out, opening his water bottle once he has recovered his breath. 

“i’m just as fast as you,” you nod, tilting your head as you watch ghost and cap wrestling on the ground. “but i’m smaller, that has to make me more agile than you lot.”

“makes sense… still, i don’t like to lose,” he jokes, trying to inch closer – to see your reaction he thinks, but deep down he knows it’s more than that. 

you make a face, scrunching your nose. you don’t notice his movements, and that’s a good thing – you won’t have time to move away. john and ghost are up to their feet and you watch as johnny moves to the center where you’ll fight him next. you move towards the makeshift arena – the place located in a glade deep within the woods that surround their house –, but stop midway to speak, “it’s not losing, though. right?” your voice is soft, and it’s the first time kyle gets to see your true colors – just a sweet girl, like they initially thought you were. you laugh nervously and add, “i mean, we’re a team… it’s good that i’ll be able to protect you– if it ever comes to that.”

he barely hears the last part of your sentence before you’re walking towards johnny. kyle’s heart is racing, his mouth is dry and his palms are sweating – he’s nervous? where’s that even coming from? and then he sees it – the tense, shy movement of your palms being wiped on the fabric of your pants. you were nervous, your palms were sweating – and then, so was kyle's. his breath hitches, he searches for john’s eyes but he is distracted talking to you and simon. when kyle looks at johnny he’s relieved to see that the scot eyes’ were already on his. he sighs, watching as johnny mouths “it’s okay, i saw it,” and just like that reassurance washes over him – of course he saw it, if anything he might as well have felt it too. kyle only smiles then, paying close attention to the way johnny checks on him from afar one more time before joining you to begin your fighting sequence.

that’s all the proof that gaz needs to your said crush – there’s no way you could’ve connected so fast if you didn’t like him, like he thought. when they are walking back to their house, simon is quick to address the matter at hand – always the blunt one. he creeps up on kyle from behind and says, “what got ya so nervous today, lovely?” a hand touching his lower back, his voice startling kyle – who’s deep in thought – making goosebumps raise on his nape.

“yeah, turns out it wasn't really me who was that nervous,” gaz states, leaning his weight on simon’s side ever so slightly. he feels it as simon pauses a bit, movements halting just for a small moment.

“you synced with her? that soon?” simon shakes his head, but kyle can feel just how happy he is at the notion – how proud he feels, knowing kyle is giving you space in their life already. kyle wants to get to his knees and match the love simon feels – but the thought itself could set off a chain reaction and god knows they can’t have that in the middle of the woods. simon squeezes gaz’s waist – probably feeling his inner turmoil –, pulling him in a side hug as he whispers, “we told ya she has a crush.”

after that, it got really easy for you and kyle to gravitate towards each other. the others watched amazed at the way you started smiling more around him – sometimes even giggling when he did something to catch your attention. you couldn’t help it, he was just so tender and understanding, sometimes it even seemed like kyle could read your mind. like the one time you had to go to base to show some results of your training tests. in the drive back to your houses, you were riding shotgun with simon as your designated driver – like most of the times, really. his warm body and the three big men in the backseat seemed to have a thing for cold spaces, because the AC was turned to the max and your poor, easily cold frame was nearly shaking from it. you didn't complain, though, trying to not be a burden and disturb their usual dynamic. good for you it wasn’t necessary, kyle felt the discomfort like it was his own. his fingers tapped simon's shoulder, pointing to the AC button after getting his attention. simon quickly turned it down and your immediate relaxation was visible to all of them – you yourself didn’t notice your hunched shoulders until you relaxed on the leather seat. when you looked back to find kyle’s eyes he simply winked at you, mouthing “i gotcha, love” with a smile. you let out a smile of your own, letting it brighten up your face and then you whispered “thank you, pretty boy,” your voice trying to match the flirty implication in his.

simon chuckled, hands shifting on the steering wheel to keep himself from finding your thigh. he could feel it, not only kyle’s content in having your attention – his satisfaction in being the object of your affection – but also your own happiness, your pride in allowing yourself to share a somewhat vulnerable moment with him. simon bites his lips, he can only hope that soon enough he'll get to hear the same whispered words, but directed to him. he knew it wasn't going to take long, since he didn't expect to sync with your emotions so soon and yet there he was, basking in your happy state. 

you didn’t understand how you could feel so utterly happy with such small things – like you feel it four times more. the way you stopped getting so fidgety around them was hint enough – but then you'd get extra happy around kyle. and then, you get extra joyful whenever you are close to them, any of them. simon is the first one to get the physical extension of your – affectionate – admiration. whenever he'd step to your side to talk to you when you were already occupied, you’d touch his forearm slightly – letting him know that you know he's there, “just hang on a second”.

you'd hold him until you finish whatever it is that you're doing, and then you’d turn to face him, eyes on his – a glint of something endearing in them – and an apology on the tip of your tongue, “sorry, what was it you wanted to say?” and he'd always fight the urge to kiss your forehead then, addressing whatever he wanted to say before.

one time he forgets to eat before your daily training on the glade, and mid way through training he feels lightheaded – weak. it was rare for it to happen, and his mood goes all the way to hell because now he's hungry and grumpy, the effects of the physical activities only summing up his hangry state. he had just finished fighting with johnny – knocking him off his feet way too fast –, sitting on an old, layed out tree near the makeshift arena, when you touched his bicep softly.

simon could never snap at any of his teammates, you were no different. he tries to keep his cool, choosing to stay quiet and letting you do the talking first. 

“i've got this… uh, piece of pie that I baked yesterday,” you start, hands holding out the small, glass container where it was displayed a very delicious looking pie. simon looks up at you in wonder and you two stare at each other – blinking once, twice – before you speak again, “do you want it?”

“if i want to eat it?” he furrows his brows. why’d you have to do this right when he's hungry and ready to punch someone? you’re too much of a sweetheart.

“yeah…” you answer, not really knowing what else to say. truth be told, you didn’t know what made you ask that. you usually packed a small container of food for yourself to eat during training because sometimes it was all that helped you to get through the exhausting routine. but today something in the back of your mind was itching, telling you to hand it to simon. so you did. “seems like you need it.”

simon takes the container in his big hands, the smell of the sweet pie knocking him out for a second. you hand him a small fork, to which he thanks you with a mumble, and you watch as he pulls his mask up a bit and takes a big first bite of your baking. he eats it quite fast, earning a ‘calm down, love, it’s not going to run’ from you – and he almost chokes when he hears the pet name, it reaches a deep part of his mind. when he's done he closes the container with the fork inside, saying “i’ll bring this home and give it back t’ya filled with something tasty”. you don't question, of course, maybe he was just being polite – actually, he just wanted an excuse to cook something for you.

when you get back to the arena to your combat training, he's feeling as light as a feather – with a full belly and warm heart. you eye him for a second, a wave of fondness taking over your body and you giggle. the feeling is what you imagine being wrapped in simon's arms would be, and in a way it feels like you're being mentally drowned by him, him, him. when you check up on him one last time, he's staring at you – the hint of a smile visible from the scrunched lines around his eyes.

on the walk home, you can’t hear the end of it. johnny is by your side the whole way, asking – pleading – for you to give him a piece of the pie too. he just loves baked sweet treats, and he thinks you look like a pretty decent cook, so why would you deny it to him? you can’t hold the laugh that escapes your lips, hand playfully slapping his arm as he talks with you – the both of you walking a bit behind the other three.

you take the moment to try and grow a bit closer to him, “tell you what, if you give me a piggyback ride home, i’ll let you inside for some tea and pie.” your eyes have a teasing glint in them, your voice molding a fake conspiratorial whisper.

johnny doesn’t have to be told twice, urging a yelp out of you with the way he’s effortlessly picking you up the second after you finish your sentence. you secure your arms around his shoulders, head playfully knocking on his before you rest altogether.

he takes a faster pace, catching up with the others as he lets out a “look what i have,” in between giggles. 

john smiles, wholeheartedly so. he knew how much johnny had been walking on eggshells around you and how he'd been neglecting himself for your comfort. he also knew how much you'd love him when you finally grew used to him – he's only ever going to make you feel loved.

kyle calls out for the two of you, playfully yelling about betrayal and favoritism. you giggle again, hugging johnny almost intimately as you whisper “don’t let him catch us” in his ear – failing to see the way he leans into you instantly, goosebumps trailing down his neck –, and that's how you end up being chased all the way to your house by kyle, whilst still tightly secured in johnny's back.

“they’re so similar to one another,” john murmurs to simon, who's still walking by his side.

“they are,” simon hums contemplatively. he and john watch as kyle catches the two of you, hugging johnny from behind and locking you between their bodies. “it's crazy how she just fitted right in.”

“it is, innit? thought the problem was going to be something else,” john answers, a laugh rumbling in his chest as he watches you wiggle out of the boys’ embrace and run to the opposite direction – and the way they run after you like in some comic animation, in a heartbeat. “turns out the real problem is keeping these three alive, they’ll figure out the rest.”

you scream, caught off guard when kyle picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, turning to walk towards your front door that had long come into view.

you clutch his shirt, trying to sound stern but failing miserably, your laughter completely taking away all seriousness of your sentence, “kyle! kyle, put me down!” 

“nuh uh, love,” kyle talks back, chuckling and shoving johnny off – who was trying to get you back in his arms.

you try to look up, and quickly recognize the two upside down figures walking right behind you, so you pull them into the mix without a care – you were just so happy –, “cap, cap! please, help me,” you say, and squeal when kyle jumps a bit to shake you on his shoulders. “ah, LT– i fed you, how can you do this to me?” 

you gasp comically in your position, hearing how simon laughs at you. he looks over to price who only shakes his head and throws an arm over the lieutenant's shoulders. kyle lets you down on your porch, hands smoothing your hair down to which you answer with a playful glare.

you take your keys out, unlocking the door and taking your boots off. “y’all can only get inside if you take your shoes off. house rules,” you state, leaving the door open as you make your way to the kitchen.

you hear the sound of them fumbling around and then the click of the door being pushed closed as you put water on a kettle and into the fire, moving to take the pie out of the oven – where you usually kept it. when you turn to place the container on the island you notice how they all seem curious over the space – right, you forgot that it was their first time there.

“you guys want a tour…?” you question from where you’re standing in the kitchen, watching as they turn to look at you from the living room.

“that’d be nice,” johnny answers, looking around – trying to carve every detail to his brain. “been dying tae see yer home.”

you grimace, moving past them and motioning for them to follow. “not really home yet,” you mumble, risking a bit of honesty. it was the first time you’d talk about the conditions of your recent life, “most of the days i can’t sleep.”

john glances over your frame – the words pricking his mind. as you walk around the house, your voice is the only audible thing while you point which room is what. once you're back in the kitchen, the men choose to sit at the kitchen island – to watch you closely in your domestic routine, like this happens everyday – john can’t help but ask, “you’ve been having trouble sleeping?” the urge to drop a ‘sweetheart’ being almost unbearable.

“yeah, s' just… ‘m used to city noise and all that shit,” you reply, avoiding his eyes – occupying yourself with settling down the mugs and plates you'd use. “it’s too quiet here, it's unsettling.”

“i get that, it took me a while to get used to it too,” john shares, his tone comforting and reassuring. “you’re always welcome to knock on our door if ya need anything, y’know?”

you smile at his attempt in making you feel better, his caring personality is something you admire in him. “thanks, cap,” you mumble, moving forward to let your arm touch his – great, real smooth, now he’ll think i’m touch starved— you think to yourself.

only to be met with his hand circling your middle, pulling you closer. his voice is lower when he speaks, but all the boys can make out what he’s saying, “y’know you can call me john, sweetheart…”

and the hot feeling in your cheek is nothing compared to the insane rhythm of your heartbeat. they all notice your flustered state, but they can tell you like it – the pure bliss you feel at the small display of intimacy, the proof that you’re one of them now, that you’re theirs.

surprisingly – or not –, is johnny who breaks the silence, “it was about time,” is almost like a whisper, none of them want to disturb the new harmony you managed to fall into. “thought ye’d only call kyle by his name.”

you furrow your brows, confused – and surprised he talked so openly about it, but enjoying nonetheless. you don’t think twice before answering, “what do you mean? i always call you by your name.” you leave john’s side to take the kettle out the stove, making the tea and plating the pie’s slices for them. 

johnny talks all throughout your movements, “trust me, bonny,” and he sounds absolutely serious, “i would remember if ye did.”

you look up at him as you hand them their respective plates and mugs, getting caught off guard by the look in his eyes – he’s dead serious. you let out a giggle, making a point of saying, “okay then, johnny,” his name rolling heavy in your voice, your teasing tone doing things to his poor mind. “would you guys like some sugar? or milk?”

and just like that, it’s like he’s never even brought up the conversation. you spend a nice, long afternoon talking and laughing – getting to know each other. you quickly realize that you’re somewhat close to all of them, except for johnny – which is odd, because he's the most extroverted of you all. you feel johnny seeping through your walls, and by the end of your little gathering you already feel comfortable enough to hug him goodbye – actually, you pull him into your arms like some unspoken apology and he quietly whispers “it’ll get better from now on”. and you believe him.

not only that, you can feel it deep into your bones – all of their certainty. the way they’re all confident that they have you just as much as you have them, and that you’re already halfway through pursuing a real bond – trust, affection, true intimacy.

series masterlist a/n: next part we'll have more of price and johnny, don't worry. | taglist: @fruitymoonbeams-blog @little-mini-me-world @bath1lda @imthatone-annoyingfriend @night-shadowblood-writes2 @z-wantstowrite @kentuckyhobbit @supernova2205 @thatghostlykid