Spec Ops One Shots

Tank's Treats (part 2) (Tank x Reader Bakery AU)

When you reach your dorm room, you look closer at the paper Tank just handed you. For the most part, you'd be able to make the shifts. The only issue was Friday's. You have a class later in the day, so your normal 4-8 time slot isn't going to work. Guess I'll just talk to him tomorrow about that.

After throwing on your pajamas and running through your nightly skin care routine, you here an alert come from your phone. Grabbing it, you sit on your bed. It's a text from an unknown number.

unknown: Does your schedule work?

Ah, it must be Tank. I did put my cell phone number on the application.

You: Yes, all good accept for Friday. I've got a late class.

unknown: Ok, that's fine. Just take that day off then.

You: Great, thanks Tank!

After saving the unknown number as "Tank", you set your phone down beside your bed, and then get up to turn off the lights. Making your way back to your bed, you think about how it felt to be carried by Tank. It felt so high up! Dude is built like a brick house. And his back...even through his spec ops gear I can tell he's ripped!

Thinking about his physique for too long makes you blush a bright shade of pink. You'll admit it though, you felt super safe being held on his back and carried home. Even though it is super late, you can't even begin to think about sleep now that your mind is occupied by thoughts of Tank.

He's so tall. His hands are so big too, and strong from kneading dough. I wonder...
Just thinking about it makes you toss and turn in your sheets. It's going to be a long night with these intrusive thoughts.

After class the next day, you make your way over to the bakery. Walking in, a little bell rings, but you don't see anyone behind the counter. The rest of the shop is empty, maybe he's running some errands? Heading to the back, you see the list of items that still need to be prepared for the day.

I guess I'll start with the Rubber Bullet Rice Crispies, you think, grabbing a stick of butter and a big sauce pan. The box of Rice Crispies is on the lowest shelf across from you, but you still need to stand on tip toes to reach it. All the shelves are so high up, but I guess that makes sense considering the owner of this shop.

You scan the rest of the shelves, and find the marshmallows are on the top shelf. Great. Looking around, you don't see any form of step stool, so you resort to climbing onto the countertop. Once you are standing on the counter, you stand on your tiptoes again and barely snag the bag of marshmallows with your finger tips. They come falling down towards you, which causes you to lean back slightly and lose your balance. Right before you can fall backwards, two gloved hands firmly grasp your waste and lift you gently off the counter. Said hands then set you down, and you once again feel your head pressed up against a very firm chest.

"Please be careful," says Tank softly as he picks up the fallen bag of marshmallows for you.

"Sorry, I couldn't find a step stool! I should have just asked you for help," you squeak as you feel your face turn bright pink. You turn around to face him, trying to step backwards. There isn't a lot of space between you two, even though your back is now pressed against the counter.

Tank steps back, hands you the marshmallows, and says "It's alright. I guess I should get a ladder for you."

Something about his tone of voice tells you he is smiling behind his visor. This causes you to turn even pinker. You grab the marshmallows from him, and shuffle over the the stove to start melting the butter.

"I'm not that short," you whisper as Tank returns to the front of the store. Apparently you didn't whisper soft enough, because you hear Tank laugh as he wipes down the display case.

"Whatever you say, Tiny."