Kyle “Gaz” Garrick isn’t exactly the type of man people imagine giving in easily. He’s a soldier through and through, sharp, disciplined, reliable to the bone. He knows when to keep his head down, when to act, when to follow orders without hesitation. But when it comes to you? All of that ironclad resolve unravels in seconds. One look, one tilt of your head, the faintest trace of a smile that you know drives him up the wall, it’s all it takes.

He’ll sigh, maybe shake his head, mutter something under his breath about you being trouble. He’ll put on a front, the crossed arms, the raised brow, the practiced patience of a man who’s supposed to be immune to distraction. But the truth is, you’ve got him wrapped around your little finger, and he doesn’t mind it in the slightest.

Kyle pretends to fight it because that’s who he is, stubborn, proud, always trying to keep his ground. Yet every time, without fail, he caves. Whether it’s you talking him into sneaking off for a midnight walk when he should be asleep, nudging him until he parts with the last bite of his food, or convincing him to take you somewhere you probably have no business being, he folds. He calls you his “weakness” sometimes, tossing it out with a laugh as if it’s just a joke, but his eyes always give him away.

The truth is, he doesn’t see it as weakness at all. He likes being wanted by you, likes it more than he’ll ever say out loud. He likes that you trust him enough to push boundaries, to lean on him even in the smallest of ways. And deep down, he likes spoiling you. He’ll never admit it, but there’s something about giving in to you that makes him feel whole, like he’s not just a soldier anymore, but yours.

Around you, Kyle lets the softer edges show. The side no one else gets to see, the warmth, the teasing, the fondness tucked under all his banter. You rile him up, make him blush, drive him half mad with your persistence. But you also make him laugh when he’s had the longest day, make him feel steady when the world tilts sideways. With you, he doesn’t have to be just Gaz, the man with the gun at his hip and the mission on his shoulders. With you, he gets to be Kyle.

And he’s hopelessly, shamelessly gone on you.

So when you stroll up with that grin, his wallet dangling casually in your hand, all he can do is huff out a laugh and shake his head. He slips an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close like you belong there, because you do.

“What is it this time, darling?” he murmurs, and despite the exasperation in his tone, there’s no missing the smile tugging at his lips, or the way his eyes soften just for you.