kyle ‘gaz’ garrick x gn!reader | fluff | gaz appreciation week masterlist.
tw : light ( but necessary ) angst.
A few seconds pass, comfortable and airy, he looks at you after the third beat passes with an eyebrow raised to find you staring at him.
You meet his eyes, lips curling up into a smile. “Did you know your dimples show when you talk?”
He turns to face you fully, skin catching the sun dripping from the window, golden light making a halo of his short curls and catching on the faint scar near his jaw. His lips part just slightly, somewhere between amusement and surprise, then curl into a grin of his own—one that only deepens those very dimples you just complimented.
“Yeah?” He says, tilting his head slightly. “You’ve been keepin’ track of my dimples, then?”
Your smile widens, and you don’t bother hiding it. “Maybe. Can’t help it. They show up every time you’re being charming.”
He lets out a soft laugh, the kind that makes your chest warm. He leans in, elbows resting on his knees, the distance between you closing until you can feel the heat radiating off him.
“You calling me charming, angel?” He teases, voice low, a little rough around the edges but still tender in a way that has you yearning. “Because if you are, I might get used to it.”
You lightly nudge his shoulder with yours. “Just stating facts, Garrick.”
His eyes sparkle at that, crinkling slightly at the corners as he leans even closer, lips near your ear now.
“Well then,” He murmurs, “I’ll just have to keep talking, won’t I?”
You hum, pretending to consider it, though your smile betrays you. “You should. For research purposes.”
Kyle chuckles again, the sound soft and rich, like velvet against your skin. His closeness to you has you feeling his voice throughout your body: a deep rumble in your chest, a warmth in your face. “Right. Gotta give you plenty of material to study.”
He shifts just a little, one hand finding yours between you on the couch. His thumb brushes over your knuckles slowly, like he’s memorizing the feel of you. There’s no rush in his movements—just quiet comfort, the kind that only comes from time and trust.
“You always look at me like that?” He asks suddenly, voice gentle.
“Like I put the stars in the sky or somethin’.” He gives you a half-grin, a little crooked and shy now. “Makes me feel like I’ve got the whole world right here.”
Your breath catches in your throat for a second—just one. Long enough for him to notice, long enough for him to squeeze your hand slightly.
“You kinda do,” You say quietly. “At least, you’ve got mine.”
His eyes search yours for a long moment, something soft and unspoken flickering behind them. He leans in, this time with full intent, and presses a kiss to your forehead—slow, warm, lingering.
“I’ll take good care of it,” He whispers against your skin.
And when he leans back, the dimples are back too—deeper than ever.
You don’t say anything right away. His words sit with you, echoing in the quiet room, warm and heavy in your chest. Kyle doesn’t press. He just watches you, still holding your hand like it’s something precious. Like he’s afraid if he lets go, you might vanish.
You turn toward him, shifting slightly so your knees brush his. “You always make it feel. . . easy,” you say finally. Your voice is quieter now, almost unsure. “Even when it’s not.”
His brows furrow, that softness in his gaze growing heavier. “What’s not easy, love?”
You shrug, trying to find the words. “Letting someone in. Trusting they’ll stay. I’ve. . . not always had the best luck with that.”
Kyle doesn’t answer right away, but his grip on your hand tightens just a little—steady, reassuring. When he does speak, his voice is low and certain.
“I’m not them,” He says. “I know I can’t promise forever—not in this line of work—but I can promise this: when I’m with you, I’m with you. No games. No going quiet when things get hard. Just me. Honest.”
You feel your throat tighten at that, and when you blink, the sting in your eyes betrays you.
He notices. Of course he does.
Without a word, he pulls you in—arms wrapping around your middle, moving one hand to cradle the back of your head as you rest your face against his chest. His heartbeat is steady beneath your ear, grounding. Real.
“I’ve got you,” He murmurs, barely above a whisper. “For as long as I can. . . I’ve got you.”
And in that moment, you believe him completely.
You stay like that for a while. Wrapped in his arms, the world narrows to just the sound of his breathing and the rhythm of his heart. It’s quiet—but not empty. It’s the kind of silence that says everything without needing words.
Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, and he holds you tighter in response, like he knows. Like he always knows.
“You make it hard not to fall,” You say softly, words muffled into his chest.
You feel his body still for a second. Then a breath, slow and deep. He leans his cheek against the top of your head, voice barely audible now. “That’s the idea.”
You pull back just enough to look up at him, and he doesn’t shy away from the way you’re looking at him—like he’s the safest place you’ve ever known. His expression is open, vulnerable in a way you rarely see. No armor. No jokes to lighten the moment.
“I didn’t think I’d get this,” You admit. “Someone who sees me like this and doesn’t run.”
His hand comes up, brushing his thumb across your cheek like he’s trying to memorize your face. “You’re not too much,” He says. “Don’t ever think that.”
A pause. He swallows, jaw tightening before he speaks again.
“I know what it’s like. . . to be left behind. To feel like you’re easy to walk away from.” His voice cracks slightly, but he keeps going. “But I see you. And I’m not going anywhere.”
The vulnerability in his eyes is raw; genuine. It’s not the kind of thing he says often—maybe not ever. But he said it now. For you.
You lean up and kiss him then—slow and deep, with everything you don’t quite know how to say. His hand cups your jaw, his other arm pulling you closer, like he’s trying to hold all of you at once.
And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that maybe. . . this is what it feels like to be truly seen. To be chosen. Not just once, but every day.
The kiss fades slowly, like a tide pulling back, but neither of you move far. Your foreheads rest together, breaths mingling in the warm hush between you. His thumb keeps tracing your cheek, his eyes still searching yours like he’s reading something only he can see.
“God,” He murmurs, almost like a prayer. “You undo me.”
Your lips twitch into the smallest smile, but your eyes are glassy, heart so full it almost aches. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
He huffs a soft laugh, and it fans across your skin. “No, angel. Not bad. Just. . . unexpected. I didn’t know I could feel like this and still feel steady.”
You nod, because you know exactly what he means. Loving someone—really loving them—doesn’t always feel like fireworks. Sometimes it feels like this: like home, like quiet strength. Like standing on solid ground after years of shifting sand.
You reach up, letting your fingers trail through his curls at the nape of his neck, soft and familiar. “What made you stay?” You ask, voice low but clear. “With me.”
“Because,” He says, “the second I let myself fall, I realized I wasn’t scared. Not with you. You make all the noise in my head go quiet. You make the hollowness in my bones full and strong.”
There’s a vulnerability in his voice that feels sacred. You tuck that confession away like something fragile and priceless.
Kyle shifts then, just enough to guide you into his side. He pulls a blanket over the two of you from the back of the couch, his arm wrapped around your shoulder, his lips brushing your temple in a lingering kiss.
“Stay with me tonight,” He says. Not a question. Not a demand. Just an offering.
You answer without hesitation. “Always.”
He exhales like he’s been holding that breath for years.
The sun dips lower, casting golden shadows across the room. Outside, the world keeps moving, unaware—but in here, time slows. Everything softens. No masks. No walls.
Just two hearts, scarred but open, beating in quiet sync.
And for the first time in a long time—for both of you—there’s no fear in that.
As you settle into the crook of his arm, blanket pulled around your shoulders, the room is bathed in the last amber stretch of sunlight. It spills across the floor like honey, catching on the curve of his cheekbone, the lashes that kiss the tops of his cheeks when he blinks slow and content.
You watch him in silence, your head resting against his chest, and the thought slips in quiet and uninvited—but true:
He’s the sun, and he doesn’t even know it.
He doesn’t know how he pulls things toward him without even trying. How warmth radiates off him even in the moments he says nothing at all. How people bend in his direction like sunflowers chasing light.
You say it before you can stop yourself.
“You’re like a sunflower.”
Kyle blinks, eyes flicking down to meet yours. “A what?”
“A sunflower,” You repeat, smiling softly. “You turn everything warm. You draw people in. Even when it’s dark, you still find a way to reach for the light.”
He’s quiet for a beat, like he doesn’t know what to do with that kind of softness—like no one’s ever called him something beautiful just for being who he is.
“‘M not sure anyone’s ever said that to me before,” He admits with a gentle gaze trained on you.
“I mean it,” You say, your voice barely a whisper. “You’re steady. Bright. You’re the kind of person who makes things grow, even when they’ve been through storms.”
He looks away for a second, almost like it’s too much to hold. His jaw clenches just slightly, emotion gathering and threatening to spill from his eyes, before he looks back at you with something reverent in his gaze.
“You really see me like that?” He asks, voice low.
You nod, lifting a hand to rest against his cheek. “I’ve always seen you like that.”
He leans into your touch like it anchors him. And when he closes his eyes, there’s a small, almost disbelieving smile on his lips—dimples and all.
“You’re dangerous, you know,” He murmurs.
“Because you make me believe I’m more than just the job. More than what I’ve seen. What I’ve done.”
You trace your thumb across his skin, gaze steady. “You are.”
And for the rest of the night, you stay curled into his warmth, as the sun fades and the quiet takes over—but somehow, even in the dark, he still glows.
Like something made to carry light.
The light outside fades into twilight, and eventually into that deep blue hush that settles just before true night. You don’t turn on a lamp. There’s something sacred about the dim—like you’ve slipped into a pocket of time that doesn’t belong to anyone else.
Kyle’s voice breaks the silence gently. “Did you always want this?”
You glance up at him. “Want what?”
“This,” He says, gesturing vaguely—to the couch, the blanket, your head on his chest. “Peace. Quiet. Something still.”
You think about it for a moment. “I think I always wanted it. . . but I didn’t think I’d get to have it. Not like this. Not with someone who feels like. . . sunlight, in human form.”
He lets out a soft, quiet laugh, almost bashful, like he’s still not used to being seen that way. “I’m not used to being someone’s calm. Not sure I ever have been.”
You tilt your head against him. “You’re mine.”
He doesn’t answer at first, but you can feel the way his arm tightens around you, how his hand shifts to thread through your fingers again.
“I used to think I’d burn too hot,” He says after a while. “Like anyone who got too close would just get. . . scorched. So I kept a bit of distance. Stayed busy. Focused on work.”
Your thumb brushes over the back of his hand.
“But then you showed up,” He continues, voice quieter now. “And suddenly I wasn’t just heat. I was warmth. I was something safe. For someone.”
He nods, eyes closed now. “For you.”
There’s a long pause after that. Not empty — just full of things that don’t need to be said.
Then, in a voice rough from emotion and maybe the edge of sleep, He murmurs, “What about you, then? What were you before this?”
You let the silence stretch a little, then whisper back, “A little lost. A little lonely. But I kept turning toward the sun anyway.”
Kyle shifts, turning to face you fully, his hand coming up to rest against your cheek. “I’m glad you did.”
You smile, leaning into his touch. “Me too.”
Outside, the world turns under a quiet sky, and inside, two hearts rest—no longer chasing light, but wrapped in it.
Eventually, the room sinks into complete darkness, save for the faint glow of city lights bleeding in through the window. The kind of soft blue that makes everything feel slower, smaller, safe.
Kyle’s hand stays on your cheek a moment longer before it drifts down, settling over your waist, pulling you just a little closer. There’s no more space between you now—just shared warmth, shared breath, the steady lull of hearts syncing in time.
You can feel the way his body starts to relax, how his breathing evens out with yours. The day is finally falling away from his shoulders, and it feels like he’s letting himself rest only because you’re here.
Your fingers trail lightly along the edge of his shirt sleeve, tracing a line over the soft curve of muscle there. “You know,” You whisper, voice drowsy but warm, “if you ever forget who you are. . . I’ll be right here to remind you.”
He hums low, a sound buried in his chest. “Promise?”
You shift just enough to press your forehead to his. “Always.”
There’s another silence—this one even softer. The kind that settles over people who know they are exactly where they’re meant to be.
You feel him smile, just barely. Then, so quiet you might’ve missed it if you weren’t so close:
“I think I started sleeping better the day you walked into my life.”
Your heart pulls at that, a soft ache blooming behind your ribs. You close your eyes, let the words settle like a blanket over both of you.
And when sleep finally comes, it isn’t heavy.
You fall into it wrapped in his arms, in the comfort of knowing that whatever storms might come, whatever battles may follow—tonight, you’re both home.
And he, still warm beside you, is your sun.
- please do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to other platforms !
- likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated <3 !!
gummygunk
areudirty
kianamaiart
origamiaround
2087
germansingergirl
janainaart
ellievsbear
tangentwithtanner
baratheonpilled
yousharknotpass
