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despitethecold · 12 days ago

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Helloooo @whichstoodonrockyshores !!! I was your secret santa this year 🧑🏻‍🎄 All of your prompts were magnificent but I chose the second one because it was too damn cute.

I hope you like reading just as much as I liked writing it!!! Merry Christmas 🎄 ❤️

And thank you for hosting the event as always @gtafest 🥳

….

Niko made his way through the store cramped with all the people who did their Christmas shopping last minute, thinking of what he could get for the McRearys, who were kind enough to invite him over to their family Christmas dinner. They had told him just to bring his ass over and not worry about gifts, but it had been too many years since Niko had last celebrated Christmas, and he wanted to do it properly. The few times his mother had tried to get the remaining family together, it had been gloomy at best and chaotic at worst. They would always miss his brother and aunt, and maybe, after all, it had been for the better not to continue celebrating the traditional way. It pained Niko to know that there was no warmth to be found in cold December nights any longer for his mother, but there was nothing he could do about that. Life had reminded them of its cruelty time and time again, and he knew better than to dwell on the past.

Part of him had to admit, though; Liberty City had given him a new chapter. It wasn’t a completely spotless slate – every time he looked Roman in the eye, he remembered finding out about how his aunt had been viciously raped and murdered. Every time he heard a gunshot, he felt a cold shiver run through his body, hand automatically reaching for his belt even when he wasn’t carrying a gun. They had been through things no person should ever have to experience. He was a changed man, and not for the better. Pulling the trigger wasn’t something he thought twice about anymore. At some point, he had come to accept his fate — he was one of the soulless soldiers now, and that’s all he would ever be.

Sometimes, though, Packie was by his side, grumbling about his brothers after his fifth beer, or cursing like a sailor after losing the game of darts, he found himself staring at the wall and wondering how a soulless man could feel such feelings. Packie made him laugh, much more than he did since he was a small child. Packie made him feel compassion, something that was only reserved for family these days. They could talk about pretty much anything, and Niko knew Packie trusted him.

The feeling was mutual.

One thing they had in common was their fucked up past for sure. Packie knew about Niko’s life before America, what kind of man he was, and still wanted to be his friend. And likewise, Niko knew about the ghosts haunting him. Packie often talked about the horrors casted on the McReary sons by the man who still had a massive portrait hung on the wall in the living room, and Niko found himself wanting to make him pay for it each and every time.

But it was Christmas for fuck’s sakes, and they all deserved a little peace and quiet. It was the most they could hope for. So Niko grabbed something for everyone. He paid extra to get the small boxes in giftwraps to not waste any more time by doing it himself, driving straight to the McReary house, Liberty Rock Radio droning on in the background. Packie’s favorite. It wasn’t long before he was pulling up by the curb and knocking, waiting for someone to answer, but the commotion that could be heard even from the street was obviously too loud for anyone to hear the door. He let himself in then, and Kate was the first to see him since Derrick and Packie were heatedly arguing over whose Irish accent was better. She let everyone know Niko was there before she introduced her boyfriend to him — Niko shook his hand and eyed him up. He seemed like a decent guy, and he figured that Packie and Derrick would have gotten rid of him already if he wasn’t. Maureen was setting the table at her pace, and Niko thought she seemed more energetic than usual. It was obvious that Christmas meant a lot to her. He told her apologetically that Roman and Mallorie couldn’t be there because Mallorie’s parents were hosting their own dinner, kissed her cheek and wished her a merry Christmas, to which she said it was fate that Packie had met someone like him. Niko briefly nodded, not knowing how to answer. Maybe she wasn’t wrong — he had saved Packie’s life, and God knew Packie had saved his.

Dinner went nice. Much nicer than Niko had ever expected, knowing how the family tended to start an argument over the smallest thing, but maybe him and Kate’s boyfriend being there helped. And the best part about eating with the McRearys was that Niko didn’t have to talk about himself too much. If there was one thing the family was undeniably good at, it was telling old stories. They had a bountiful supply of them, most of them Maureen didn’t approve of but still listened to; not all of them were funny, but they were all interesting in their own way. It was a breath of fresh air to not be asked about himself all the time, if Niko had to be honest — he could only answer so many questions people asked, wanting to find out more about the mysterious European. He ate a little bit of everything while he listened to the story Derrick and Packie started telling together about a job gone hilariously wrong, laughing like they hadn’t been arguing half an hour ago. Maureen gave them a disapproving look, told them they would burn in hell like her husband if they didn’t give up their ways. Derrick looked upset by the comment but to Niko’s surprise, even then they didn’t start anything. It made Niko think they were capable of change; no matter how fucked everything was, maybe they didn’t have to fight at the kitchen table for the rest of eternity.

After the dessert, they moved to the living room to have drinks. Mauren gave each of them a selection of chocolates and gloves, and no one else had gifts to put under the tree except for Niko since apparently, the topic of gifts had always been another source of argument in the family. When Niko started handing them their gifts, Packie looked just as pleasantly surprised as the rest of them, but as everyone opened the wrapping, he told Niko quietly that he had something for him upstairs.

They took their drinks to Packie’s room, where Niko put his glass of wine on Packie’s bedside table while Packie dug something out of the closet. “You’re gonna love this, lad,” he said cheerfully, looking proud of himself. He held out the car bomb he was holding in his hands to Niko.

Niko thought it was a joke at first, and he laughed. “Very funny, asshole,” he huffed, not making a move to take it. “Where’s the real gift?”

“This is the gift,” Packie said, looking dead serious, almost offended. “It’s a fucking bomb. Useful. Best of its kind. I made it myself.”

It clearly wasn’t a joke, then. Niko nodded and took the bomb, not sure how to take it home when everyone else was enjoying their drinks downstairs. “Thanks, Packie. I’ll be sure to use it well.”

Packie patted Niko’s arm. “You should. Be careful, though. It’s more powerful than the last one I gave ya.”

Niko nodded, put the bomb on the bed next to the gift he had gotten for Packie that was still wrapped. “Are you gonna open yours?”

“Yeah, sure,” Packie grinned, grabbing the package. “Can’t believe you got everyone a gift. I bet they’re all socks and shit.”

“Not quite.”

Packie didn’t really seem to believe Niko, hastily ripping the gift wrap and pulling out what was inside as if he wanted to say I fucking knew it.

His expression changed to one of confusion, then surprise when he saw the box contained a small sketchbook and pencils instead of socks. The good kind.

The silence lingered on for so uncomfortably long with Packie’s head hung low that Niko began to think that maybe he had misinterpreted something. Maybe Packie didn’t like drawing that much, after all, and he only doodled on receipts and napkins to pass the time. And the worst of all, maybe he didn’t know Packie as well as he thought.

But eventually, he looked up from the box, and Niko could swear that Packie had tears in his eyes. “…Are you crying?” he blurted out just so he wouldn’t have to acknowledge the fact that seeing Packie like that made things to his heart. Heart of a hardened criminal who wasn’t supposed to be affected by anything.

“No,” Packie grunted, furiously wiping his face with his sleeve. “There’s just water in me eyes, Niko boy. Fuck off.”

Niko snorted out a relieved laugh. “So… I take it you like the gift.”

Packie didn’t answer it, just muttered, “How did you know I like drawing?”

With a shrug, Niko said, “I see you always draw on the napkin when we drink at the bar.”

“…Really?”

“Yes,” Niko said. “Not bad for a drug dealing de-fucking-generate from some armpit in Eastern Europe, huh?”

Packie laughed, then wiped his eyes again. “Fuck. And I gave you a fucking bomb. Fuck me.”

Niko shrugged, leaned down and picked up the wrap to tear off the sticky gift bow from it, lightly slapping it on Packie’s forehead. “Now I have two gifts.”

Packie cursed, threw the gift box on the bed and playfully wrestled Niko. Under fair circumstances, Niko would have won easily, but Packie’s sudden attack made him fall on the bed on his back with Packie on top. He removed the bow from his forehead and chucked it across the room and grinned. “Not so easy, Niko boy.”

Instead of fighting him, Niko stayed still, looking up cautiously. “Yeah?”

Packie grabbed his face with his hand, still looking mischievous enough until he hummed, “You want a proper gift? I’ll give you one.” Niko closed his eyes, heart thrumming in his chest as he felt Packie’s lips on his own, kissing him roughly. Before he could answer it, it was over, and Packie was staring down at him with an intense gaze. “That good enough for you?”

Niko swallowed heavily, flushed under Packie’s gaze. “I think I prefer the bomb,” he breathed out before one of his hands found the front of Packie’s shirt to pull him down for another kiss, warm and playful but genuine.

When they went downstairs ten minutes later, Niko watched Packie realize that everyone else had gotten socks with an amused smile.

#packie mcreary #niko bellic #gtafest #gta iv #my writing

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despitethecold · 12 days ago

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HAPPY HOLIDAYS @despitethecold ! I come bearing a gift for you, courtesy of @gtafest !

Your prompts were GORG and I loved them all, but I saw your suggestion of a very Lester Christmas(tm), and decided to give him some love because he's underrated imo <3

Also because complex holiday feelings and complex feelings surrounding disability... felt 😔✌️

But I promise this has a happy ending :} Hope you enjoy it!

WORDS: 1.1K FANDOM(S): Grand Theft Auto 5 WARNINGS: Mentions of Internalized Ableism, Post-Game Plot (Ending C/Deathwish)

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Let me know if you’d like a more permanent copy of this, too! I’m always happy to provide a PDF version of the writings I do!

[NEOCITIES MIRROR]

Life keeps ticking. That’s what everyone says, isn’t it? That life’s some great climb; you only get one, so live it to your fullest! Hell, he brought into that ideal briefly–thought it would make things in his personal life better. But it didn’t. And now that the snow began to fall in the once tropical streets of Los Santos, and the neighboring homes began to glisten with multicolored strings and twinkling lights, Lester realized that yet another year had rushed by.

He was just another year closer to the inevitable.

It hurt when it’d hit him. Punched him in the gut as the realization sunk and kept sinking. It was going to be harder to get out of the house now, more than it already was given the crumbling steps in front of his home and the lack of reliable transportation now that… he was alone. Back to ol’ reliable: Solitude. Isolation. The status of a ghost, as everyone else had to go off the radar after The Big One™. What was done was done, and it was done for good. Michael and Trevor seemed to have made up enough to not kill each other in the end–truly a Christmas miracle, if one was to ask Lester–and Franklin decided that he was done with this sort of life. He struck gold, and decided after all the shit he’d been through… enough was enough. He wasn’t going to throw it all away because he got a luckier break than his counterparts. Or so Lester had thought, until he’d caught a glimpse of movement outside the door. A blip on the security screen. Tired hands reached up to adjust thinly-framed glasses, eyes squinting to account for the change in focus. When they did, a finger slid to enable the microphone.

“Franklin? What are you doing here?”

The bundled-up man outside looked around, then up to the corner. His head tilted until he’d noticed the camera staring back at him.

“Hey! Lester. What’s good man, was wonderin’ what you were up to. I was in the area and… you know, figured I’d drop by.”

Not a lie; not the whole truth. The fact of the matter is… Franklin missed the camaraderie, despite the intense arguments and the chaos that often ensued. He missed the opportunity; the feeling of being busy and having a purpose beyond everything he’d settled into. One thing was certain enough, though: There was no way in Hell he was going home for the holidays. Denise would have his head if he’d suddenly shown up after fucking off to his new home in the hills–after all, she’d finally gotten what she wanted: peace and quiet and a home to herself. Lamar and him were still on rocky terms after everything, too. Sure, they’d more or less made up, but there was still tension in the air; a stiff sense of betrayal that’d left a bitter taste on their tongues. And beyond that… The Unholy Trinity were all Franklin really had. With them gone their separate ways, the best option–besides spending the holidays miserable and alone–was with the one connection he knew he had.

And it went both ways.

“Alright, fine, come in.” A few button presses. A click. The door unlocked and Franklin was more than happy to step into the warmth that’d awaited. Hands finally left his pockets, rubbing together rapidly to take it all in. The friction alone generated enough heat to warm his palms, whilst the interior’s stiffness brought the backs to an equal temperature.

“Surprised nobody else stopped by. Woulda thought…”

Lester wheeled himself from the computer and to the cluttered living area. When he got to the threshold, he felt along the wall until the hilt of his cane fell into his hands. He took a moment, adjusting the placement, before using it to pull himself up and lazily push the chair back.

“Michael’s been handling things with his family, and Trevor… well�� he’s doing his own thing I’m sure.”

“You doin’ your own thing too?”

“Something like that. You know, I’m… surprised you’re here. Figured you would have found some chaos to dig yourself into.”

A lighthearted, albeit stilted, laugh from Franklin. “Nah… Flyin’ solo for now.”

Curiosity. “And your first thought was to come here to resolve that?”

Well, when Lester put it like that… it sounded pathetic. Sad. Bitter. And perhaps it was. The subtle disavowing of his own worth, and the subtle chiding of Franklin’s loneliness. There was recognition in it. An intimate understanding of what it felt like to be alone while the world around you kept moving. Franklin sighed and shrugged, finding himself skirting around the question in an attempt to guide the conversation elsewhere.

“Well, it’s on the way up to Mirror Park. When Lamar and I were kids, we’d always walk up that way and look at all the decorations people put up–’course I drove down here and parked somewhere else. Wasn’t about to haul my ass down from the Hills–but he’s got his own thing going, and sometimes walking alone’s just… you know, relaxing.”

“Can think as much or as little as you want, that it?” A subtle vulnerability; an acknowledgment of understanding.

“Exactly.” A pause. “You wanna come? Could be fun laughing at all the tacky blow-up Santas and shit.”

And as much as Lester wanted to say yes, he knew all too well going out in the cold and walking was not an option. Nowadays, walking was hardly an option as is; everything fucking hurt and the more he lingered on his feet idly chatting about the prospect, the more he felt like just laying down and trying to sleep it off. Was it the best way to manage the pain? No, but it beat the amount of medications he was taking just to ‘stay functional’ while overseeing the Unholy Trinity’s shenanigans. Now, it was down to the bare essentials, and even then…

“Look, Franklin, I appreciate the gesture. Really. But… Ah, fuck it.”

It wasn’t worth rehashing. Not to him; Franklin, however, noticed the hesitation backing his words. The subtle but visible discomfort as Lester pressed on toward the door.

“Hey–hold up. Let me go get my car.” A pause. “Does your chair fold?”

He paused.

“That old thing? Never got around to getting one that could. Figured most of my work was done in-house and I’ve never been interested in going around the city and witnessing all these… whiny West Coast douchebags.” A subtle smile followed by laughter from Franklin.

“Man, fuck you–this whiny West Coast douchebag’s trying to be a good friend and this is the thanks I get?” A lighthearted jab–Franklin was already in the midst of pulling out his keys and stepping out the door. “Listen. I’ll go get my car, ride us up to the little lot by the park, and we’ll take it from there, yeah?”

“... Alright, fine. Only because you twisted my arm. And, uh, thanks Franklin.”

#agghhhhhhhhhhhhhh i love it thank you so much 😭

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