reaper-chan666

[reaper-chan666]

This is so cute!

Christmas with Mr Riley and ugly sweaters

Simon is woken up by a soft nudge on his chest,

Slowly opening his eyes to see his beautiful girlfriend smiling tooth to tooth with a big box covered in red wrapping paper on her hands.

“Merry Christmas to you luv” he rasps out as he gets up to unpack your gift

He removes the wrapping paper hurriedly as excitement and curiosity gnaws him

Opening the big box to see a hand knitted sweater that he��d seen you knit in secrecy while he slept.

A sweater with bright red, green and white colours

and an odd shaped penguin wearing a ghost mask which he assumed was him if he were to ever be a penguin.

A sweater he definitely wouldn’t have liked if anyone else gave him.

But now to him that sweater was the most beautifully crafted and the most cherished piece of clothing he had ever seen and had.

Not because of the disoriented looking penguin sitting in the middle with a ghost mask, no

It was because you made it,

You put so much effort in for him

He felt his chest burst with pride as he pulled you close for a warm hug as he whispered praises on how good it looks and how he will wear it everyday until winter ends.

You thought he was joking when he said that but you were proven wrong when you saw him come out wearing that sweater proudly at a Christmas dinner with the boys and Laswell.

Soap was the first to speak and called Simon out by saying how he is “whipped for his missus”

Gaz stopped eating and stared in disbelief

While price and laswell tried to hold their laughter in

But Simon remained unfazed and proudly boasted how you made that sweater for him and how he loves it.

He was talkative during dinner, laughing and praising you the entire time making the boys jealous and also giddy.

They kept teasing Simon the entire night on how he should just “wife ‘er up” and how he should “get ‘er a bigger box filled with presents”

Not knowing that your Christmas present was in in a little black velvet box inside his pocket.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊⋆ ₊ ﾟ ☽ * ₊ ⋆* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊⋆ ₊ ﾟ ☽ * ₊ ⋆ ੈ✩

Req from @yourdailyangel

And happy Christmas Eve everyone hope you have an amazing dayyy !!

[reaper-chan666]

does anyone know wtf word-stream.com is or where to send them a takedown request? i just found a bunch of fics, including my own, hosted on this AI slop site—apparently offering what I assume are AI-generated audiobook versions & (equally AI-generated) ratings and reviews. i can’t take a closer look without signing up, which, no thank you, but it looks like they’re hosting the full fics and are peddling a paid subscription for the trouble of hosting them. can someone more knowledgeable than me explain what our options are in this situation?

[reaper-chan666]

alpha!ghost who's always hated the sound of an omega's purr; he’s always found it patronising, manipulative, an attempt to twist his biology - twist him - into submission like he's some animal

until he hears soap purr for the first time and it's about as choppy and comforting as a machine gun. there's nothing smooth about it, nothing seductive or wily; it's broken and guttural and the most honest noise ghost's ever heard outside his own growls

he doesn't use it to coo him into complacency, doesn't try to bend him to his will or smooth over his bristles. he's never tried to distract ghost from his anger, never used his intrinsic control over him to gentle him. hell, he seems to forget he can even do it, ghost hears it so rarely. it's only a touch above his growls, subharmonic and demanding attention instead of the pretty titter of a pampered omega

ghost hears it for the first time when he’s covered in blood not his, after he slits an enemy pinning him down from navel to chin; dark blood instantly soaking him. the body’s practically cool with blood loss already when he tosses it aside and rolls to his feet to find soap stock still, staring at him with a feral gleam in his eyes

he drops his jaw with a deep inhale, rolling the scent of blood and pissed alpha pheromones in his mouth and his chest rumbles with all the subtlety of a chainsaw

it's suddenly all ghost can do to keep himself from dragging the body and dropping it at soap's feet like a courting gift of old; to carve out his heart and rich organs and present them for his approval, to hold them to his mouth and never break eye contact as he takes his first bloody bite

ghost shakes it off, strangling the chuff trying to claw out his throat, and heads for the rv point and feels absolutely nothing when soap falls into step behind him without a word; his purr that more closely mimics an alpha's rumble an echoing memory

soap's far from a meek, compliant omega and he's no conniving prince wrapping alphas around his finger either; he's just as much a protector, an aggressor, as any alpha. he's never been ashamed of his instincts; never shied away from nuzzling into price's throat, purring for his pack alpha with no regard to the uncomfortable crowd surrounding them. never hesitates to wrap gaz up and drop him in his nest when the beta reeks of stress and sickly insomnia

and he never stops himself from baring his fangs with a guttural hiss whenever another omega dares to purr at ghost

it's a threat and a warning in one; something only the most foolish omega would ignore. he knows ghost has a complex relationship with omegas, knows it isn't something so pathetic as biological prejudice. something about omegas makes his lt's scent go flat and steely, as close to distress as he thinks he can manage and it makes something dark and old rise in his chest

territorial rage broils off him, strong enough to make the omega whine and back off with their tail between their legs without even taking a step towards them. the scent is sour and pungent enough to drown out ghost's subtle distressed smell, to hide it, and it makes him snort; shaking his head to try and clear it

soap all but trots up beside him, chirping in greeting. he sneezes playfully, lets him know the rage scent wasn't for him; never for him. he replaces it with happy-friend-pack, replaces it with nitroglycerin and burning sparklers and butts his forehead against his sternum instead of crowding into his throat and purring the way he wants to

he earned his way into ghost's pack, into becoming an omega not just accepted but welcomed and he won't jeopardise his hard won progress by pushing his purr on him

he lifts his head and grins as ghost cups his nape in a faux-scruff, something offensive and borderline taboo and if he were anyone else, he'd rip his hand off with his teeth. but it's ghost and ghost does strange things, things that reassure him on a deeper level than any purr or chirp could ever hope to, so soap presses into his gentling hand and bares his teeth in the thinnest facsimile of a smile at the retreating omega

all ghost has to do is aim him in the right direction and he'd bring the omega back to him in pieces; would gift him their torn out throat so they could never purr at him again

his chest rumbles subconsciously and soap gnashes his teeth, forcing his purr back down when ghost squeezes his nape

he thumps his temple into his and a puff of air tickles his ear, the closest thing soap's ever heard to a chuff from him and he couldn't stop his purr if he tried; choppy and broken as it is

you inhale enough explosive fumes and it's bound to damage something

ghost huffs again and soap presses up to nibble appeasingly at his clothed jaw, a question and an apology in each bite

ghost just takes the tip of his ear between his teeth, shaking it with a teasing growl and soap laughs as he tackles him just for ghost to bow over his back and wrap his arms around his waist; effortlessly picking him up and tossing him away

soap stays low and growls right back, a wild smile splitting his face. ghost meets him with a sneeze and his grin grows impossibly wider

if he can't hunt for his alpha, can't purr for him with blood on his teeth, he'll happily wrestle with him instead

[reaper-chan666]

good girls with voice kinks deserve to be groped and finger fucked while being talked through it

[reaper-chan666]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 42: Comfort and Joy

Summary: Tis the season to be jolly...

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 8, 417 words

Warnings: Alpha/beta/omega dynamics, omegaverse, alternate universe, slight angst at the beginning, blood and disturbing imagery, nightmares, PTSD, lots of comfort, holidays

A/N: Yes, CRCB is getting its holiday episode. Something holly and jolly before Christmas, some sweet comfort for the last chapter of this year. It's kind of rough but I don't hate it. I hope everyone feels the same. Happy Holidays to everyone

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

It’s quiet in the house. 

There’s a stillness in the air that seeps into your very soul. The only light is from the street light outside. Your father never allowed you a nightlight despite your fear of the dark. You weren’t allowed to show such weakness in front of him. God forbid his family have any flaws. 

You’re the flawed one. 

It’s too quiet in the house, not even your brothers’ snoring audible in the tense quiet that has settled over your safe space. It has your breathing shallow so as to not disturb the heaviness in the air. Your sister is asleep in the bed across the room, tucked under the blankets safely. Sleep evades you however, something tickling in the back of your mind. 

Something is off. Something is wrong. 

“Hannah.” You whisper, disturbing the darkness in favor of not feeling so alone in the oppressive silence. “Hannah.” 

Yet your sister does not stir, showing no sign of even acknowledging a disturbance as she sleeps deeply. You bite your lip, sinking back further under your covers. You could wake one of your brothers, but the likelihood of one of them helping ease your fear is small. They’ll just usher you back to bed and tell you to grow up. You could attempt to rouse your mother, but that runs the risk of also waking your father. If nothing is wrong, it will be your doom. 

Maybe it’s all just in your head. Some terror brought on by a lingering nightmare. 

You need to get up. You can’t lay in the darkness anymore. 

So you rise from the safety of your blankets, padding silently across the wood and out into the hallway. There’s a nightlight allowed out here to prevent stumbling in the dead of night. There’s nothing in the hallway, no silent spectre waiting to grab whoever leaves their room first. You creep silently down the hallway towards the black gaping maw of the living room waiting just beyond the edges of the light. 

You stand there at the end of the hallway, gazing into the darkness for a moment. It’s not truly dark, light filtering in through the curtains from the streetlights outside. Yet the darkness feels thicker than it ever has before as you stand there, waiting for a shadow to move. 

Nothing moves, and after a breath you turn to the left, cutting through the dining room straight towards the kitchen. It’s darker in here, cut off from the street, yet you navigate it with ease. You’ve spent many nights navigating through the darkness, creeping around the house when you can’t sleep. 

You enter the kitchen, heading for the cupboard that holds the cups. Your mother used to give you warm milk when you couldn’t sleep. Sometimes you’d rise to find her awake, sitting in the living room. Sometimes she’d be crying. Sometimes she’d just be sitting with the lamp on, staring into the distance. 

It always made you wonder what she was thinking about. 

You stand on your toes, reaching up for a glass. It nearly falls and hits the counter but you manage to catch it, preventing what would no doubt be a crisis. You let out a breath before moving to the sink, filling the glass up. You stare out the small window that shows nothing but the fence between your house and the neighbors. All the houses are the same, built after the same model with the same green grass out front. It’s like a movie set, some suburban setting for a drama or a horror movie. 

The oppressive darkness feels like a horror movie. 

You turn to head back to your room, but you’re stopped by a figure standing in the entrance to the kitchen. You can just make it out, large and looming in the darkness. For a moment you think it’s your father, awakened by something, some instinct telling him there’s something moving around in the house. It’s not the right size to be your father, though, too tall and long. 

You stumble back towards the light switch, your fingers shaking as you flip it on. 

“Phil?” You ask quietly, staring at your father’s best friend in shock. You haven’t seen him in almost two years. 

His mouth opens in a haunting grin, blood pouring down his chin. You stare in horror as blood soaks into his white shirt, dripping onto the floor below. The cup slips from your hand, shattering on the floor as his hand wraps around the knife stuck in the side of his neck, pulling it free. Blood sprays across the white cupboards, painting them like some gruesome work of art. 

“Look...what you did...to me...” Phil says, his voice nothing more than a gurgling wheeze. 

He reaches out a blood soaked hand towards you, sending you stumbling back. Glass cuts into the bottoms of your feet, sending shards of white hot pain up your legs. You don’t care, too busy trying to evade the bloody hand trying to grab at you. You slip in the water on the floor, falling backwards, the back of your head seconds from hitting the side of the counter...

“Easy, easy.” 

Arms are around you, holding you tightly as you sob. Your feet are burning as you sit there on the kitchen floor. It’s not the kitchen in your old home, though, it’s the kitchen in the cottage. Your feet are burning with sharp stabs of pain. There’s water soaking into your pajama pants. 

“You’re alright.” 

The light is on, raining down bright yellow light from overhead. You hate it, the oppressive light burning your eyes. You squeeze them closed, trying to ease the pounding in your head that pulses in time with your heart. 

“...sleepwalking I think...” 

Voices float in and out as you sit there, leaning back against something solid and warm. There’s arms around you, holding you tightly, your own arms trapped up against your chest. You tilt your head back, resting it back against the solid warmth. 

“Almost hit her head...” 

“Move her to the couch...”

“It’s not that uncommon during times of extreme stress.” 

You wince as another tiny piece of glass is pulled from your foot. 

“Even if someone has never experienced sleepwalking before, it can start at any age.” 

“Is this something we need to worry about now?” 

“It’s hard to say.” Dr. Keller dabs at your foot with a damp towel streaked with pink from your blood. “It’s one of those things we’ll just have to wait and see if it was a one-time thing or if it will become a regular occurance.” She dabs at your feet with the towel before shining the flashlight on them again. “You want to talk about the nightmare?” 

She’s talking to you now. 

“No.” You say, the word strained and weak from your lips. Your face feels tight from the tears you had shed in your confusion and delirium. The nightmare is still fresh on your mind, replaying like some sick television show, over and over in your head. 

She gives you a look, but doesn’t press anymore. She won’t ask again, not in front of your pack at least. 

She lets your feet rest on the coffee table before moving closer to you. Her hands cup the back of your head, pressing down on certain spots. “Does your head hurt?” 

“No.” You say, ignoring the throbbing behind your eyes. 

“Well, thanks to Kyle’s quick reflexes, I think we’ve avoided a concussion.” She says, turning to Kyle. “How’s your hand?” 

“Fine.” He says from where he’s sitting next to you, flexing his fingers. “I’ll take aches and pains if it prevents a hospital visit.” 

“That’s the last thing we need right now.” John says. 

You can’t help but wince at his words. 

If he notices, he doesn’t say anything. 

“Thankfully there wasn’t any serious damage.” Dr. Keller says, wrapping your feet in gauze. “Just try to take it easy for a couple of days. Walking isn’t going to feel very good for a while.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

“Not really.” 

“I think it might be good to talk about it.” 

“You’re as bad as Dr. Keller.” 

“Well, she and I agree that holding everything in isn’t going to help anything.” Kyle says, taking the seat next to you. “We just want to help you.” 

“Unless you can crawl into my mind and fix my memories, I don’t think you can help with this.” You say bitterly. 

“Well, I can’t do that, but I can listen.” He gives you a look. 

You choose to ignore it. 

He continues to stare at you as you turn your gaze out the window. It’s raining again, light droplets hitting the window. You can feel yourself beginning to crack as he continues to stare at you, his gaze not sharp and prying, but instead soft and inviting. He really wants to know, not out of curiosity or need, but because he cares. He wants to help, even if it’s just listening. 

Can you be brave enough to share? 

“I woke up in bed, but not in the cottage. I was in bed at the house we lived in before I was sent to the institution.” You swallow the lump in your throat threatening to choke you and cut off your words. “It was the house we moved to shortly after Phil left. I remember feeling something was off after I woke up, something was wrong but I couldn’t figure it out.” Your mouth suddenly feels dry. “I went to the kitchen to get some water and Phil appeared there in the darkness. He...” 

You trail off for a moment, the memory of what he had looked like in your dream sending a spike of fear through you. You had thought the one positive of Phil being dead was that he couldn’t haunt your dreams anymore. He’s not out there hunting you, seeking you out. He’s dead, burned to a crisp in that barn. You made sure of that. 

“He had a knife in his neck. He was bleeding.” Your voice shakes as tears prick behind your eyes. You hate it that you’re still crying over Phil and his hold on you even in death. “He said....he said ‘look what you did to me,’ and pulled the knife out. I dropped the glass of water and slipped in it. I was falling but then I woke up.” 

Kyle is silent after you finish, the quiet settling heavy between you, as heavy as it had felt in your dream. You know you sleep walked through part of your dream. You went to the kitchen for water and dropped the glass. You slipped in the puddle and nearly hit your head on the counter if Kyle hadn’t found you seconds before and cushioned your fall with his hand. Your feet still sting from stepping in the glass, even though the puncture wounds and cuts have mostly healed. 

A warm hand touches yours, fingers curling around yours. Kyle’s rough skin, calloused by handling weapons and fighting for so many years, drags against yours as he slowly lifts your hand away from the arm of the chair and up towards his face. His breath is warm as it hits your palm, his soft lips pressing against your skin. You turn to face him, tears still blurring your vision as you sit there, staring at him. 

“It was just a dream.” He murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your palm. “No one is going to hurt you. Phil is gone and we’ll be damn sure nothing else can even try.” He presses your hand against his cheek, your fingers trembling against the smooth skin. “You have nothing to fear.” 

“Only what’s in my head.” You whisper. 

“What can we do? How can we help you defeat those demons plaguing you?” He asks, threading his fingers through yours. 

You stare at him for a while, taking in his face again. It feels like so long since you’ve really looked at them, since you’ve truly taken in their features. You’ve almost forgotten what they actually look like, your mind always conjuring up muddy images of their faces in your memories. 

You’ve forgotten just how pretty and perfect he really is. 

How...disarming his face is. 

“I don’t know.” You whisper, your thumb stroking his cheek. “I don’t know.” 

The breeze is cold, whipping around you and biting at your cheeks. The blanket tucked tightly around you stops the wind from chilling you to your bones. You don’t care about the cold, your gaze out on the waves crashing against the shore. 

“Cold?” Johnny asks, tightening his hold around you. 

“No.” You say, fighting back a shiver as you lean further back against his chest. The last thing you want right now is to leave the beach. 

“Somethin’ tells me I shouldnae believe you.” He says, squeezing his body around yours. 

“Well, whatever it is, it’s wrong.” You say stubbornly, shoving your hands in your armpits to keep them warm. 

“Stubborn little thing.” He says, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Should be headin’ back soon anyway.” 

You let out a whine in protest, leaning your head back against his shoulder. “I want to stay here forever.” 

“I know.” He says, letting you go just enough to pull his phone out of his pocket. “Wish I could let ye.” 

You can’t stop the shiver that shakes through you at the loss of his warmth. It is cold and getting colder as the sky gets more grey overhead. The sun is going down, the darkness of the evening rolling in earlier and earlier every day. 

“Time to head back.” Johnny says, pocketing his phone. 

“Five more minutes.” You whine, trying to lay all of your weight against him. 

“I have direct orders to get you back stat.” He says, pushing himself up to stand. 

You let yourself flop back on the blanket you’ve been sitting on, looking up at him as you lay there in the sand. The wind is picking up, blowing some of it onto your face. You sputter, pulling yourself back up to sit. 

“Come on, kitten.” Johnny says, tucking his hands under your arms before lifting you to stand. “Let’s head back before it gets dark.” 

He brushes the sand off of your blanket before picking up the other one and shaking it. He drapes it over his arm before guiding you back up the path towards the car. You take one last look over your shoulder at the water before following him to the parking lot. 

It’s dusk when you get back to the cottage, the lights from inside glowing warmly through the windows. Johnny takes your hand, leading you up the steps and into the cottage. 

It’s warm inside, the rest of your pack moving around in the kitchen and dining area. You kick your boots off, passing your blanket off to Johnny before heading into the living area. The table is all made up, many dishes sitting out ready to be served, all of them looking very familiar.

“What is this?” You ask, stepping closer to the table. 

“It’s Thanksgiving.” Dr. Keller says, stepping out of the kitchen with a tray of meat in her hands. “I thought you might like to celebrate.” 

“Oh.” You stand there for a moment. You didn’t even realize what day it was. Time has been so strange with no phone or television to give you an idea of what day it is. It’s been moving quickly, almost four weeks since the day you were taken. “Is that why you let Johnny take me to the beach?” 

“We wanted to surprise you.” John says. “I know you don’t like surprises, but this felt like a more appropriate one.” 

“I don’t like surprises, but this is really sweet.” You move towards your normal seat at the table, looking at all of the dishes laid out. 

“We made all the classics, or at least as close as we could get with what we have available.” Dr. Keller says. 

“It’s pretty close, but then again I’ve only had Thanksgiving once.” Ashley says, coming out of the kitchen. You hadn’t even noticed her car parked outside. 

“Thank you for this.” You say, still a bit taken aback by the gesture. “I didn’t even know it was close to Thanksgiving. Time...time seems so weird now.” 

“A lot has happened in a short amount of time.” Dr. Keller says, rubbing your back. “That can skew how we perceive time passing.” 

“I also don’t have any way to tell time.” You shrug. 

Dr. Keller gives you a soft smile. “Well, we’ll see if we can rectify that.” 

Everyone takes their seats at the table in their usual spots, except for the extra chair next to Dr. Keller for Ashley. You recognize the strategic move, even if the rest of your pack pretends not to notice. Dr. Keller also pays it no mind, but you can’t help but notice the bashful look that flashes across her face when her hand brushes Ashleys as food gets passed around the table. 

You load up your plate, digging in almost immediately. You hadn’t realized how hungry you got down at the beach, not until you came back to a cacophony of delicious smells. It all tastes good, all of it throwing you back into reminders of your childhood and Thanksgivings with your family. While your father still had expectations of proper behavior from you and your siblings, it was tradition that he’d spend most of the day in his chair. Your mother did all of the cooking, you and your siblings helping when she’d allow. 

You never truly understood how much work she put into every holiday until you were older. 

Thanksgivings at the institute were never the same as Thanksgivings at home. You got the day off of course, and there always was a better meal that day with the classics, but it always felt so manufactured, not unlike the food on base. You never realized how much you missed home cooking until now. 

You never realized how much you missed your mothers food until now. 

Tears blur your eyes as you continue to eat, trying to distract yourself with heaping spoonfuls of food. 

“You doing alright?” 

Of course the one time John would notice your melancholic state would be right now. The entire table pauses, turning to look at you. You start to curl in on yourself, not wanting all the attention all at once on you. 

“Yeah.” You clear your throat, wiping the tear that betrays you and falls down your cheek. “Just tastes really good. Reminds me of my mom’s cooking.” 

The words slip out before you can stop them, tumbling out onto the table and landing among the mashed potatoes. Things suddenly feel very vulnerable, very raw. You wish you could grab the words, shove them back in and make them all forget your admission. You don’t want the soft stares, the sympathetic looks in their eyes, the understanding. You want to crawl under the table and hide until the moment passes. 

“I-I think I just missed home-cooked food.” You try to save the moment from growing more embarrassing for you. 

“I second that.” Johnny says, the tension in the room lightening just a bit. “Easy tae forget what good food tastes like sometimes.” 

“I’ll give it to the Americans.” Kyle says, recognizing your desire for the attention to be off of you at this moment. “They do know how to do a good feast.” 

“We can do more than good food.” Dr. Keller says, sounding almost offended. 

“Like Halloween.” Johnny says. “What I wouldnae give to have an American Halloween.” 

“You just want an excuse to eat candy until you’re sick.” Simon rumbles. 

“I wan’ tae do more than that.” Johnny gives him a look. “Costumes, the parties, trick or treatin’. All of it.” 

“Maybe we’ll have to take you to America next Halloween.” Dr. Keller says. “Let you get a proper taste of the holiday.” 

Next Halloween. 

You’re not even thinking a week ahead, much less a year. You’re not even sure the others have thought much about what the next few months will look like. Where will you all be in a year? You can’t stay at the cottage forever, as much as you would enjoy it. At some point a decision has to be made. Where do the five of you go from here? 

The conversation begins to lighten, the attention thankfully being drawn off of you again. That doesn’t save you from John’s gaze, though, his eyes flicking up to you every so often. You try not to meet that gaze, keeping your eyes down on your plate as you eat until you’re stuffed full. Yet you can’t help but look up when his gaze lingers too long, when your omega shifts under the scrutinizing gaze of an alpha. He’s trying to read you like he used to be able to. You wish you could hide better from him, but you’ll never be able to truly keep your thoughts and feelings under wraps. 

Not from him. 

You’re banned from the kitchen as food is cleaned up and placed in the fridge and dishes are washed. Instead you find yourself on the couch, staring into the flickering flames of the fire. Kyle takes a seat next to you, sitting down with a quiet groan. 

“How are you?” He asks, draping his arm on the back of the couch behind you. 

“Fine.” You say, still turned to face the fire. “Full.” 

He lets out a quiet chuckle. “Same. Don’t think I’ve been this full in a long time.” 

“That’s the point of the holiday.” You say. “Eat until you pass out.” That’s what your father used to do, slipping into a food coma after dinner in his chair. As much as you hate him, you do miss those quiet evenings where you could loosen up and not care about his calculating gaze. 

“Feeling tired?” He asks, and you can feel his questioning gaze hitting the side of your head. 

“No,” You respond, and it’s the truth. There’s far too much going on in your head to even nap right now. 

It falls silent for a few moments, only the sounds from the kitchen and the crackling of the fire breaking the silence. You’re far away in your thoughts, replaying the last few weeks over and over in your head. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” John asks, breaking you from your reverie. He takes a seat on the other couch, facing you. 

“Just thinking about how much time has passed.” You answer, tucking your knees up close to your chest. “It’s been almost a year and yet it feels like it’s only been a few weeks.” 

John hums. “You would have been with the CIA already by this time.” 

You nod. “Yeah. I was picked up just after Halloween. Didn’t really have Christmas last year. The CIA wasn’t exactly the most festive place. They had bigger things to worry about.” 

“Did you miss it, Christmas?” He asks. 

“Well, yeah. Of course, even if we didn’t really celebrate much in the institute either. We didn��t have any gifts to give each other outside of things we were supplied with by the institute. They didn’t really bother decorating either. We got the day off, of course, and we had a nicer meal than usual, but it wasn’t really some big festive celebration.” You shrug. “It was always a big deal in my house. It was my mom’s favorite holiday.” 

You cut yourself off before the emotions can get to be too heavy. You’ve already almost lost it once in front of them today. The last thing you want is to risk that again. You’ve spilled too many words already. The last thing you want is to spill more. 

John’s gaze leaves you to look at Kyle next to you, the two of them sharing a silent conversation. You’ve always envied their abilities to speak to each other without words. You wish you could know them that well, you wish you could understand them on that level. You wish you shared the bonds they have with each other. You’ll always be the odd man out, the outsider. You’ll never have that closeness, that ease with which they exist around each other. 

You’re beginning to see it again, the fluidity between them, moving around each other without needing to look, always aware of the others. Here you are again, on the outside of that once more. Things really have gone back to the way they were before, back when things were new and foreign and unknown. You’re an unknown factor in this dynamic again, all of them tiptoeing around you like you might explode if they get too close, if they push those boundaries again. 

Part of you hates it. Part of you likes it. 

You’re not sure what to feel anymore. 

You tilt your head back, thumping it against Kyle’s hand. “Sorry.” You quickly sit yourself back up. “Done that twice now I guess.” 

“No need to apologize.” He says, his hand dropping to your shoulder to lean you back again. His hand gently cups the back of your head, rubbing soothing circles into your scalp with his fingers. 

You let out a content hum, your eyes fluttering closed. It falls silent between the three of you as Kyle slowly works you into a comfortable, content state. Your omega begins to almost purr contently, and for the first time in a while, she doesn’t feel quite so out of control. 

The days start to make more sense as you now have an idea where you are on the calendar. It’s the end of November, meaning in just a few weeks it’ll be Christmas. The guys haven’t said anything about celebrating, so you haven’t gotten your hopes up. Still, you can’t hide that itch in the back of your mind, that desire to have a proper celebration for your first year out of the institute. 

“You know you can tell them what you want.” Dr. Keller says, sitting in the chair next to you. “We’ve gone over this. I’m sure those guys would turn the world upside down if you asked them to.” 

“I just...I don’t know how.” You say. “What if they have no plans for Christmas? What if they weren’t planning anything? What if this is too last minute?” 

“There’s a little under a month till Christmas. It’s hardly last minute.” Dr. Keller says. “Even if they say no, then we’ll have a celebration. Just the two of us.” 

“You’d do that for me?” You ask, turning to look at her. 

“Of course. If you want to celebrate Christmas, then we will, no matter what the others decide.” She says firmly. “If they don’t wish to participate, then they don’t have to.” 

“That’s...really kind of you.” You say. She’s done so much for you already, and here she is offering to do more. 

“It’s what I’m here for.” She says. “Whatever you want to do. Decorate, bake cookies, go shopping. All of the above.” She reaches over, squeezing your hand. “You’re in charge.”

You’re in charge. 

Your omega nearly preens at the words, starting to get excited. Yet, you’re not quite sure how you feel about that kind of pressure being placed on you. It’s not in your nature to be in charge...or at least that’s what the institute taught you. Omegas are submissive and follow their alpha’s orders. 

The institute was wrong about a lot of things, though. Maybe you do want to be in charge. Maybe if you’re in charge, things will start to get better. Maybe if you’re in charge, you can finally get your pack in line and get them doing what you want them to do. 

It’s far too early for you to be awake. It’s still dark out, no light filtering through the gaps in the curtains. There’s light coming through the gaps in the door, though, and you can hear quiet rustling. 

“It’s still crooked.” You hear Kyle’s voice through the wall. 

“I’m doin’ the best I can.” Johnny retorts. 

More rustling and quiet tinkling sounds through the wall. There’s no more hope for sleep for you now, your interest far too piqued as to what they’re doing. You slide out of bed, rubbing your eyes as you pad across the cold floor to the door. 

You’re not ready for what you find on the other side. 

All four of them pause as your door opens and you take half a step out the doorway. You freeze, hand still over one of your eyes. Johnny is standing on a stepstool, leaning over a tree. Kyle is standing next to him, peeking around him to look at you. Simon is frozen in front of the fireplace, garland hanging from his hands. John is standing between the couches, a round ornament in each hand. 

You slowly lower your hand from your eye, sweeping your gaze over the four of them once more. “What are you doing?” You ask, even though you already know the answer to that question. 

“Decorating.” The four of them say all at once. 

“We were going to surprise you when you got up.” Kyle says. 

“We were trying to be quiet.” John says. “But those two muppets can’t get the star properly on the tree.” 

“You’ve got it on the branch wrong.” Kyle says. 

“It won’t go any other way.” Johnny argues. 

They go back to what they were doing, almost as if you’re not there. You’re glad for it as tears begin to fill your eyes. They’re decorating. They were decorating to surprise you. You can’t help but wonder if Dr. Keller expressed your desire for a proper Christmas to them on your behalf, but part of you knows she wouldn’t do that. She’s pushing you too hard to take control to do that. 

Maybe they’re doing it because they want to. Maybe this was their plan all along. 

“Let me do it.” Kyle says, tugging on Johnny’s shirt. 

“I can do it just fine.” Johnny persists, still fiddling with the star on the tree. 

You roll your eyes, moving over to them. “Move. I’ll do it.” 

Neither of them argue as Johnny steps down off the stool, letting you climb up. You can feel their hands hovering as you stand up on your toes, reaching for the top of the tree. You bend the top branch, situating the star on properly for them. 

“See! I told you.” Kyle says, his hands still hovering as you climb down off the stool. 

“My way would have worked just fine.” Johnny pouts. 

“I’m sure it would have.” You shrug, patting his arm before walking away. 

You join John in sorting through ornaments as Kyle and Johnny finish adjusting the lights on the tree. They’re all brand new, sealed in the boxes still. So they went shopping for all of this. You don’t suppose a summer house would have Christmas decorations laying around. It’s touching that they did this for you, even if they didn’t know you’d want it. 

“Thank you.” You say, fiddling with the hook on one of the ornaments. “For doing this.” 

“It wouldn’t be fair to not give you a proper Christmas.” John says. “Not when it means so much to you.” 

A small smile tugs at your lips, tears starting to fill your eyes again. “I appreciate it. More than you know.” 

You don’t flinch as he reaches out, gently running a hand over your head as you wipe the tear that falls. It’s nice, feeling his touch again. You hadn’t realized how much you missed it. You wrap your fingers around his wrist, holding his hand against the side of your head. You barely realize you’re doing it as you press your nose into his wrist, breathing in his fresh, woodsy scent. Petrichor, damp earth. It fills your nose like it did the first time you scented him, making your head spin. 

For the first time in a while, your omega lays comfortably in the back of your mind, settled contently back into her cage. 

You stand there nervously, staring at your alpha. He hasn’t acknowledged you yet, giving you a moment to gather yourself. You’re nervous, your palms sweaty, even if you have nothing to be nervous about. The worst he can say is no, and then you’ll have an excuse. Or he’ll say he’ll do it himself, then one surprise will be ruined at least. 

“Yes, sweetheart?” 

Sweetheart. It’s been a long time since you’ve heard that nickname spoken in such a way. Your omega rolls over and shows her belly, ready to submit to his quiet purr of your nickname. 

“I...I wanted to ask you something.” You say, shifting nervously on your feet. Now is the time. Now is when you have to be brave and voice your wants. 

“Go ahead.” He says, putting his phone down and turning to face you.

You almost wish he wouldn’t. You wish he’d stay turned away, attention on his phone so he can half pay attention to what you’re saying. No, instead he has to give you his full attention and put even more pressure on you. 

The words catch on your tongue, choking you as you attempt to be brave, as you attempt to take this leap into unknown territory. 

The worst he can say is no. 

“I want to go Christmas shopping.” The words come out fast, almost slurring together in your haste to voice them before you lose all the courage that led you to this point. 

He leans back in his seat and you prepare for the worst, you prepare for the no waiting to come out and put an end to your silly little request. You’ll sulk and cry about it in the safety of your room. Now you have to be strong. 

“Okay.” He says. 

You nearly turn and run in shame before the meaning of the word settles into your brain. You stand there in surprise, staring at him with wide eyes. 

“Okay?” You parrot, your brain still trying to comprehend what it is he’s saying. 

“Okay.” He repeats. “You’ll have to take one of us with you, though. You can’t leave unprotected, even with Christine.” 

“I’ll go.” 

The voice makes you jump, spinning on your heel to face Simon. You hadn’t even heard him approach. You stare in surprise at the other alpha. He hasn’t made much of an effort to insert himself back into your life. You were half sure he hated you again with how he’s been acting. 

“Alright.” John says, his voice almost as surprised as you feel. 

It will be nice having the hulking alpha following you around. You think back to when you went lingerie shopping with Johnny. How long ago that seems now. People had gone out of their way not to walk too close to you and your protector. No one will want to mess with you with him around.

“Go with Christine.” John says, making you turn back around to look at him in surprise. 

“Really?” You ask in disbelief. 

He nods. “I think it will be good for you, getting out of the house. Just don’t stay out too long.” He turns back to his phone and you turn back to look at Simon, but he’s gone. 

“This might be a tad bit overwhelming at first.” Dr. Keller says as she drives through town. “It’s been a while since you’ve been in a populated place.” 

“I’ll be fine.” You say, even if you don’t really believe it. You had prepared for this possibility in the days you’ve thought about this trip. 

John wanted you to go early on a weekday, when it was less likely to be too crowded. While crowded might hide you better, it also left too many possibilities for someone to sneak up on you. 

“You say the word and we’ll go.” Dr. Keller says. “I can always come back later and finish shopping for you.” 

“Okay.” You say, still staring out the window at the buildings. It’s been a while since you’ve seen so many buildings all in one spot. 

Simon is quiet in the passenger seat, also watching out the window. You wonder what’s going through his head, if he regrets volunteering to come along. You wonder why he did volunteer in the first place. You know safety is of the highest concern now while Shepherd is still out there. Does he not trust anyone else to protect you? That’s a possibility. 

There’s another rift in the bonds. 

Dr. Keller pulls into the Tesco parking lot, many cars there even for so early in the morning. Everyone else had the same idea as John. 

“Try to make this as quick as possible.” Simon says as you undo your seatbelt. “The sooner we can get in and out, the better.” 

Dr. Keller gives him a look, something passing between the two of them before she opens her car door. You get out as well, pulling your jacket tighter around you as the cold air hits your skin. It had been warm in the car, the heat cranked for your sake. 

You’re half tempted to hold Simon’s hand as you cross the parking lot. You doubt he’d let you. He might pull away and that would be worse. That would ruin the whole trip. Old habits, you think. He’s barely spoken to you, so much as made an effort to rekindle the relationship between you. That would be pushing things too far. 

Instead you stick close to Dr. Keller, trying not to panic as you walk into the building with the bright lights and the people. It’s gross, making you squint for a moment as Simon grabs a cart, your eyes taking a moment to adjust. 

“What are you planning on getting?” Dr. Keller asks, trying to distract you. 

“I-I don’t know.” You stay, blinking at aisle after aisle of products. “I didn’t think this far ahead. I thought John would say no.” 

“Well, what do you think they’d like?” She asks. 

What would they like? What do they like? You’re drawing a blank as you think about them. How little you know about them too. 

Kyle. Kyle likes skincare. He’s always prioritized that on base. Maybe you’ll get him something related to that. 

You start for the cosmetics section, Simon following like a shadow behind you and Dr. Keller. What kind of skincare does Kyle like? You know he uses coconut oil after he showers. He always smells good. Maybe something exfoliating? Something moisturizing? Both? 

You stand in front of the skincare, drawing a blank as you look at the many options. Dr. Keller and Simon stand there quietly as you deliberate, suddenly overwhelmed by the choice you have to make. 

“Who are you shopping for right now?” Dr. Keller asks, obviously picking up on your discomfort. 

“Kyle.” You say. “I know he likes skincare.” 

“Hmm.” Dr. Keller hums, looking at the options as well. “How about something like this?” She picks up a gift set with cleanser and moisturizer. “Something to cover all the basics?” 

You nod. “Okay. That sounds good.” 

Simon says nothing, offering no words of advice as she puts it in the cart. Maybe he doesn’t even know his own pack that well. Or maybe this is his way of showing his displeasure for you. Let you flounder and get the wrong thing. You want to believe he wouldn’t be that cruel. 

You wander the aisles, looking for gifts for the other three. You pass by a spa kit, pausing for a moment. You should get one for Dr. Keller. She deserves some pampering and relaxation after weeks of taking care of you. 

You put two in the cart, grabbing one for Ashley as well. 

Johnny. What does Johnny like? Art. He likes art. Maybe something with art supplies. 

You head for that section, Simon still following behind silently, aside from the clinking of the cart as he pushes it. 

You pause as you pass by a display of teddy bears. Johnny sleeps with a stuffed bear. You know that. You’ve cuddled with it yourself. It’s probably back on base with the rest of your belongings. He must miss it. 

You grab one, putting it in the cart. 

“For Johnny.” You say as Dr. Keller gives you a look. 

Simon still doesn’t say anything, but his scent reaches your nose as you walk past him. 

The alphas. John and Simon. The two you seem to know the least. What do they like? What would they want as gifts? Simon likes knives and masks, but you’re not sure you could just buy a knife in the UK like you could in America. You could just ask him, considering he’s here with you, but that feels almost intrusive. He’ll know what you get him regardless, but asking him seems like a daunting task. 

You continue wandering the aisles, looking for something that John might want. 

You pass by a gift set of tea, pausing as you stare at it. He likes tea. He might like some other options than what’s at the house. 

You put it in the cart. 

Now Simon. The hardest of the four. 

You continue wandering the aisles before you pause in the books section. Simon likes to read. You do know that. You’ve scoured the shelf at the cottage enough to know what’s there and what’s not. Maybe you’ll get Simon some new books. Something that’s not available to you currently. 

You pick out a couple before putting them in the cart. 

“Okay.” You say, staring at the selection you’ve grabbed. “I think I’m done.” 

“You’re sure?” Dr. Keller asks. 

You nod. “Yeah. I don’t want to do anything too over the top.” 

You really don’t. The last thing you want is to do too much too soon. 

You pause as you walk past the candy aisle, grabbing a handful of candy canes and putting them in the cart before heading for the checkout. 

Dr. Keller pays with cash as you load the bags into the cart. You’re ready to be out of the store with its bright lights and loud music and people. It’s starting to get busier, more and more people coming in the doors there to do their Christmas shopping as well. 

Simon loads the bags into the trunk as you climb into the car with Dr. Keller. 

“How do you feel?” She asks as you let out a breath. 

“A bit overwhelmed.” You say honestly. 

“It’s a lot going from isolation to a supermarket. I think you did good, though.” She praises you. 

The door opens as Simon climbs into the passenger seat. He’s barely said a word the entire trip, looming in silence like he used to. Part of it makes your chest hurt, that he would regress so much after what happened, but part of you understands. He had to make a big decision on your behalf, push himself past his comfort zone to save your life. Of course he’d want some distance after everything. You wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t want anything to do with you again. 

It’s far too early when light seeps into your room before disappearing. You keep your eyes closed, willing whoever had just entered your room to vanish before they reach the bed. 

You’re not so lucky, a hand settling on your shoulder and gently shaking you. 

“Time to rise and shine.” A soft voice says. 

You let out an irritated grumble, trying to pull the blanket up over your head. 

“It’s Christmas morning, don’t you want to go open your presents?” That hand shakes you again. 

“Sleep.” You murmur, curling up in a ball under the comforter. 

“It’s already 10 am.” The voice says again, tugging the blankets down. “They let you sleep longer than they wanted.” 

Last night was a rough one. You had laid awake far too late, staring at the ceiling and then you woke from a nightmare in the middle of the night, and it had taken time to calm yourself and fall back asleep. You’re still exhausted, your eyes burning from tiredness. 

You let out a grunt of displeasure, but you know there’s no getting out of this one. You’re going to be getting up no matter what. 

You slowly stretch out your limbs, rubbing your eyes. “Fine.” You yawn, turning over to press your face into the pillow. “Be up soon.” 

“No going back to sleep.” The hand rubs your back gently. “Then I’ll have to send one of them in and they won’t be quite so nice about it.” 

You hum into the pillow, already feeling sleep tugging at your brain. Despite the warning, your mind sinks back into the comforting realm of rest as your body relaxes back into the bed. 

You’re not sure how long you get to rest before the comforter is torn off of you, landing somewhere on the floor. Hands roll you over and sit you up before your brain can even process. You blink the rapidly fading sleep from your eyes as you’re hauled up, flying through the air for a moment before you’re tossed over a broad shoulder. 

“Time tae get up.” Johnny says, packing you towards the light filtering in through the open door. 

You let out a whine as he packs you out into the warmth and the light before lowering you back down on your feet. Hands stop you from falling backwards, Johnny’s t-shirt clad chest coming into view as you blink the blurriness from your vision. 

“Happy Christmas kitten.” He says, grinning brightly at you. 

You mutter something that sounds like ‘Merry Christmas’ back to him. His hands slowly spin you around, turning you to face the tree. 

You blink in surprise as you stare at the many presents on the floor under the tree. You weren’t expecting that much, though you suppose with six people in the house there would be quite a bit. It’s one gift though that draws your attention. It’s seated on the far side of the tree, nothing but a bow on top of its head. 

“You...you got me a giant bear?” You ask in surprise. 

“Was Si’s idea-oof.” Johnny coughs as Simon hits him on the back. 

You walk over to it, pulling the bow off of its head. You’ve missed your giant bear and the comfort it brought you. That’s the one thing you wish you still had from the barracks, that you’ve been wanting for for weeks. It’s bigger than the one at the barracks, the top of its head reaching your chest when you’re standing in front of it. 

You let your hands run over the soft fur, squeezing its plush face. There’s no cameras in this one. You know they’ve checked, ensured its safety. There’s no one looking back at you as you stare into its dark eyes. 

“What do you think?” Kyle asks. 

“I love it.” You say, trying to stop the waver in your voice. The last thing you want is to cry on Christmas. “Thank you.” 

“Come on.” Hands guide you to the chair, letting you sit down. “You’ve got a lot to open.” 

The next hour is a flurry of wrapping paper and bows as presents get passed around. You open up new shoes and clothes, a set of lacy panties courtesy of Johnny, new books, strawberry scented soap and shampoo, and some other comfort items. 

You’ll never forget Johnny’s face when he opens your gift to him, his eyes lighting up as he stares at the soft bear you picked out. It gets you a big hug and a kiss to the cheek from him, and you know he’s going to be sleeping with it tonight. 

You’re exhausted by the time the last present is opened, rubbing your eyes again. You hadn’t even changed out of your pajamas, feeling underdressed compared to the others. Yet at the same time it makes you feel like a kid again, tearing into presents on Christmas morning, excited to see what you got. 

You look around the room, John and Kyle starting to bag up wrapping paper and clean, Johnny on the couch next to Simon holding his bear, Simon sitting near the fire already cracking open one of the books, and Dr. Keller and Ashley on the other couch talking, sitting very close. It brings a small smile to your face. You’re happy for them. It’s nice to see Dr. Keller getting something positive out of this stay at the cottage. 

You can’t help but think that whatever happens next, maybe it might not be so bad after all. 

“Think we should wake her up?” Kyle asks. 

“No.” John says, standing next to him. “It’s the most relaxed I’ve seen her in weeks.” 

They both stare at you where you lay near the tree, draped over your large bear. You’re sound asleep, mouth slightly parted as you snooze away. 

“I think she likes it.” 

“It was a good choice.” John agrees. “It will certainly help make her more comfortable.” 

“I can’t wait to see how she’s going to fit that on the bed.” Kyle says with a soft smile. 

“Well, you certainly won’t be joining her when she does.” John smirks. 

“I think I can live with that.” Kyle says. “Like you said, whatever makes her more comfortable.” 

“I’m glad she’s loosening up a bit.” John says, turning away from you to head back towards the dining table. 

“So am I. She deserves to feel safe and comfortable.” 

“She does. We need to make sure she feels that way all the time, no matter what.” 

“I want to help her.” Kyle says longingly. 

“I know. And we can, but we have to let her lead.” John says. “The best we can do is listen to her and give her what she needs, even if it's not what we think is best. We don’t really know what’s best for her in the end. Only she does.” He reaches up, cupping Kyle’s cheek. “We need to focus on each other too.” 

“I know.” Kyle says, leaning into his touch. “I want to.” 

John’s lips twitch in a small smile. “Good. Because so do I.” 

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[reaper-chan666]

Fem!reader x 141

Honestly might be able to to something with the gross stuff I saw at the hardware store I used to work at (except make it hot and 141)

Imagine you're a cashier, the only one with early morning availability so you're there at 5:45am for the 6am start. It's always the worst kinds of contractors there: rude, tired, dirty, leering gazes and sexist comments

You're pretty sick of it, but you get paid a bit more than minimum wage and you're done by 11am so, you take it with a cheery smile and fast service

The 141 contracting company starts spending at your store. So much, in fact, that your manager personally takes you aside to mention just how much they do - nearly a million a year - and how no matter what, your job is to be nice and please them

Well, you can do that. You've dealt with crazy, awful old contractors screaming in your face about lumber prices at 6:30am more than once, heard them talking about your tit's or your ass right in front of you - you can handle it

Until the masked one comes in first and hes huge, dark hoodie and cargo pants hanging low on his hips. He hands you 3k in bills only there are bloodstains on them and he watches you closely the whole time you count them out

It's... not a first, but the look he gives you makes you shiver. Pale eyelashes, tall, intimidating

The second is nicer. Too nice, in fact. He charms you before you're even fully awake, and your shift goes by quickly thinking about that winning smile and the way he'd touched your fingers while he handed you a stack of bills... not to mention those soft brown eyes

The third is... intense, for 8am. He rolls on the balls of his feet, stares at you harder than the masked one. He offers to buy you a hot chocolate at the coffee shop next door and grins like you made a joke when you decline

Their boss is fucking dreamy. Even you have to admit it, trying not to look up at his mustached, frankly porno-esque face. He's huge, as tall as the others but thick, with a little pudge around his belly. He trudges in with thick workboots and a stained t shirt, pays for 24k worth of material with a lazy smile on his face like it's nothing

You might ask head cash to move you to the garden center after all...

[reaper-chan666]

Christmas Visit

CoD Gangster AU | Navigation

TW: Some sad stuff

The holidays are often rough for you. Not getting to spend them with your dad isn’t fun, but you use the days as a chance to visit him. Usually that involves some cookies and a thermos brought to his grave. It was a tradition you’d had with Graves as well, so it was a little awkward to go with him now.

“Could always go Christmas Eve.” Laswell suggested.

“Was thinking of doing that instead. Could take Alex with me.” You suggested.

“What about Price?” She asked. That couldn’t hurt. Maybe it could be a nice gesture. Then again, Price didn’t strike you as the most sentimental person. Doesn’t stop you from asking him.

“Hey boss?” You asked poking your head into his room.

“Yes?” He replied.

“Could I ask a sort of favour or rather I had an offer I guess, you don’t have to say yes-“

“What would you like?” Price asked, stopping your ramble before it started.

“Would you come with me to visit my dad? On Christmas Eve?” You asked. Price doesn’t answer right away and you start to panic a little again. “You don’t have to, it’s just-“

“I was planning on going.” Price answered. “I’ve gone every other year. Hoped to see you there, but Graves made sure to take you Christmas Day. Said it was for privacy.”

“Okay.” You nodded. Okay why did that feel so awkward?

Christmas Eve came and you told the rest of the guys that the visit was more personal, and they understood you wanted it to just be you and Price. They wouldn’t bother you, and had plans made of their own. You walked with Price, carrying a thermos of cocoa and a bundle of cookies in your pocket. Price noticed you were wearing darker colours, with the only contrast being your red scarf. Still kept in good condition despite everything that had happened. You were still limping, which wasn’t great when it came to icy patches. Price offered you his arm, which was certainly helpful.

“Should’ve taken a car.” You muttered as you kept walking.

“Cars have more risk when they’re not driven by someone you trust.” Price told you. “After what’s been happening, it’s safer to walk, and lay low.”

“Hence the awkward route.” You said, Price nodding.

“Precisely.”

You make it to the graveyard by the afternoon, but the gate is locked. You can’t easily hoist yourself over it like you usually would if Graves forgot the key. You do make the effort, giving Price your thermos to hold on to.

“What are y- Y/N, stop.” Price took hold of your wrist as soon as it took hold of one of the design pieces on the gate. You flinched and pulled away immediately. You didn’t look at him, but he looked at you. “Shouldn’t have grabbed at you.” Price said.

“S’fine.” You said. Price did a quick look around, before stepping closer. You were facing the gate, almost pressed right against it. Price just places a hand on your back, trying to gauge your state. If you shrugged him off or flinched it meant you need more time. You just take a deep breath, welcoming his presence. Price then backed up, inspecting the gate, and then the stone walls. Price removed his jacket and asked you to hold it for him. You took it, and stepped back at his request.

Price tried your original idea. He's able to scale the gate pretty well, despite his age and the fact he too had been shot recently. By now he was probably used to getting shot, so the after effects probably didn't bother him anymore. He gets to the other side dropping down with hardly any issue, making a thud against the frozen ground. Thankfully, the gate could be unlocked from the other side, letting you in. Price out his jacket back on, before you continued on.

“Can I ask you something?” You asked.

“Go on.” Price said.

“Why didn’t you come to the wake?” You asked. Price sighed, knowing it was a heavy question.

“Your father was a good friend, but he insisted on maintaining the cover. He still had me in the will, but it was kept private from you. I also knew if I went to the wake Graves would be there and the last thing I wanted was for you to see him get into a fight with me.” He explained.

“You weren’t mentioned in the will.” You pointed out.

“Not to you.” Price said. “I was in the will but it was kept in the form of a letter, there was one for each of us, including Laswell. It was another way your father tried to keep you safe.”

“So…” you slowed your pace letting Price walk ahead of you, before you both stopped. “Why wait?”

“Hm?”

“Why didn’t you ever to me? You waited until I was on a case to track you down and arrest you, why not say something sooner?” You asked. You weren’t upset or offended. It was genuine curiosity. Price closed the distance between the two of you.

“When I saw you the day of the funeral… I blamed myself. I dragged your father out there, I wasn’t as careful as I should have been. He died. I let it happen, knowing his child was waiting for their dad to come home.” Price explained. “Imagine your father’s killer coming to his funeral and introducing himself to you.”

You started walking again, taking a sip of the thermos. “You didn’t kill him.”

“I know.” Price said walking beside you again, hands in his pockets. “I didn’t at the time, and I didn’t know if you did.”

“I didn’t know until I sat down at the pub.” You admitted. “He’s still out there.”

“Sitting where your father should be.” Price said.

“And vice versa.” You added.

You found your father’s grave stone. Every step closer after that last turn in the path had you feeling waves of emotion. There was plenty you wanted to say, plenty you had to tell him. You take a sip from the thermos, half wishing you’d put some Bailey’s in it or something.

You stood in front of the stone with Price not sure what to say. Where should you start? You sniffled and felt the tears coming. Just the cold, you tell yourself.

“Hi dad.” You started. “Merry Christmas. I brought someone different this time. A lot has happened lately.”

Deep breathes, you’re doing great so far. Take it in steps. You’ve painted the base layer, now paint the shapes. You can add details as you go. You sat down on the cold snowy ground, removing your coat to use as a cushion. Good thing you had layers. Price followed your lead, taking off his jacket to do the same.

“I’ve met the others as well. Ghost, Soap, and Gaz. They’re keeping me safe. Trying to at least.” You said, keeping your voice steady. “Graves um… he told me some of what happened to you, and Price told me the rest. That’s kind of why he isn’t here, I… I don’t want to see him right now.”

You took breaks in between, trying to think of what to say next. Your jaw clenched, before speaking. “I know about Makarov. I know about the 141 and what you used to do. I know how you died. I know… I know why you didn’t tell me but…”

You couldn’t finish the sentence, your emotions getting the better of you. Price sat there watching you, as you pawed at your eyes. He put an arm around you, wanting to remind you he was there.

“I’ll take over for a bit.” He said softly. Price turned his attention to silent grave stone.

“L/N. Sorry I haven’t been around, been busy and all that.” Price started. “Plenty to tell you about. Pub is going well, the rest of the men are getting along fine. And of course we have a new one.”

A moment of silence, as if he was letting your father have a chance to respond. Then he said, “You raised a good one. Maybe a little naive, but we all were once. Still learning to be their own person. Graves is being his usual stubborn self, I think he passed it on to them.”

You chuckled. “Got it from my dad.”

“That’s for sure.” Price said. The rest of your question still hung in the air. You already had your answer.

“…I know why you didn’t tell me dad. Safety reasons. I… I wish you had told me sooner. Might’ve made life a bit easier…get beat up less.” You said.

“They did very well.” Price told your father.

There was silence again. Both you and Price stared at the stone. Price snuck a glance at you, thinking. Should he tell you? No. It was Christmas Eve, you were visiting your dad, and already trying to just talk without bursting into tears. There wouldn’t be an easy time to tell you that story. If you ever asked him, he would tell you, but you hadn’t so he wouldn’t. Instead Price took the cookies out of his pocket, unwrapping them for you.

“Was waiting for those.” You admitted. Price smiled. You took one and he took the other. You both tapped cookies, in a sort of toast. Another swig from the thermos, and deep breaths. The sweetness helped with the comfort.

“Should tell him the good stuff.” Price told you.

“I’m a glorified tagger dad.” You said giggling, trying to laugh through the emotions. Price shook his head, smiling at your silliness. “I’ve been doing art again. People like the murals I’ve been making. The one for Los Vacqueros is my favourite. Been sketching in my book still. Oh! And I got a cat, or rather Simon picked up a stray and I’ve been helping with the kittens. I’ve started hanging out with Alex more, I mentioned him to you before.”

Price sat with you and continued to listen to your stories, and recounts of everything that had happened in the past year or so. He told his own tales as well that you got to hear for the first time. You probably sat there with him for hours. It didn’t take long for the night to come around. The cold setting into your bones.

You knelt down and gave your father a final good bye, pressing your forehead to the stone. “I love you dad… Say hi to mom for me.”

You got back up, as Price placed a hand on the stone. “Who dares, wins.”

Price offered his arm and you took it, as he led you out of the grave yard.

Price takes you to the pub afterward, and you’re met with a familiar face opening the door. Nikolai smiles and wishes you a Merry Christmas. As you step inside, the stop a surprise you realize it’s more than a stop. You see the 141 at a pool table, with some drinks, and not just them. Farah and Alex were talking to Alejandro, and Rudy was on a team with Soap against Gaz and Ghost. Laswell sat and watched the game play out. Price joined her at the bar, as you walked in.

The black outfit felt a little out of place now. As you looked on at the people who had taken you in you quietly thank your dad. Your father had protected them. Now they protected you.

"Aye, ya gonna stand there or join us?" Soap asked. You smiled and came over getting yourself a drink from behind the bar. As soon as you took a swig and set your drink down, Gaz placed an empty bottle on the pool table.

"Testing my aim still?" You asked, getting offered a pool cue.

"We'll see how they are after a few too many." Kyle commented. You gave him a side look. Rudy put the balls in the rack, while you got the cue ball set up.

"Bet." You said, taking the cue and setting up your shot. You bounced the ball of the bottle, getting a decent break.

Kate and John sat at the bar, watching the game. Both of them kept their voices low, to keep the conversation to themselves.

"You didn't tell them about the scarf." Kate commented.

"Nope." John said, taking a sip of his drink. Kate turned her head to him, while he watched on.

"You have to tell them eventually." Kate said, sighing. "There won't be a right time."

"Not tonight... not tomorrow either." Price said. Kate didn't often see this side of John, the sentimental side. You deserved to know after everything, but John was right. It was Christmas Eve, and tomorrow was Christmas. There was no telling how you would react. Kate would continue to keep John's secret until he came froward with it himself.

For now it was Christmas. You had good drinks, good aim and, a good family. You weren't always going to have that. Now was the time to relax and enjoy what you had.

"Boss, you're being challenged." Simon called over.

"Am I now?" Price asked, seeing you look over to him. He set down his drink and got up from the bar. Farah came over to Laswell, to offer another cue.

"That's playing with fire." She told Farah. Farah shrugged, willing to take that risk. Kate accepted the challenge. As snow fell outside, there was no time for worries, no issues to worry about. Simply good food, good drinks and a good family.

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @dcnocap207 @reaper-chan666 @bestbookfriends @thriving-n-jiving @cutiecusp @shikigami-the-paper-spirit

[reaper-chan666]

I actually can't stop thinking about your writing on AC 141, it lowkey got me playing again. When I got back on New Horizions, I found out that I had 300,000 bells in debt give or take 50,000 or so from an expansion on my house. Also I just got the Abel sisters' shop so I can finally get pretty clothes, yippie!

Enough about me, Nikolai is the pilot that flies reader to other islands, while Laswell is the one that mans the desk at the airport, only because she has other jobs and a wife. Blathers is the same because I love him like a cherished family friend.

I imagine that the boys were initially alarmed when reader started catching and holding all of these sharp and/or venomous animals with her bare ass hands. While they've learned that reader never really gets hurt doing this, it's still a little scary to see her running around at all hours of the night and day catching creatures to either give to the Museum or sell.

At least reader gives them very thoughtful and genuinely nice gifts, many of them handmade.

Anyways, those are my thoughts that have been plaguing me, and you can have them.

previous

Gaz wakes early to a beautiful morning on the island. The sky is a rich, vibrant blue, playing host today to towering formations of pastel clouds, and the temperature is just low enough to suggest that the heat won’t rise unbearably throughout the day.

Gaz brings his coffee outside with him to sit on his front lawn and admire the day ahead of him. The human had gifted him a lovely wood swing recently, which he finds ideal for days just like this, where he can sip something warm and enjoy the breeze, and the sun on his face, and the scent of the garden springing up around his house that the human is cultivating for crossbreeding purposes.

Out of everyone on the island, you seem to prefer him at the moment—Price tracks your activities, whose houses you spend the most time on, who receives gifts the most often. It had been him in the beginning, and Gaz had initially worried that the old lion might be jealous, but Price had only smiled at the notion when the wolf brought it up and pointed out that he had been the only animal there, after all.

So Gaz is free to enjoy your attentions unimpeded by guilt. He’s watching the butterflies flit idly among the heavy spring blooms, inhaling the steam of his coffee, when he hears a low hum somewhere northwards. Maybe Nik jetting off along the archipelago, on his way to pick up another islander.

Then, Soap comes galloping up, running at a breakneck pace, and Gaz hardly has any time to relax before he yanks open the front door of his house.

“Bees got the human,” the horse throws over his shoulder briefly before barging inside.

“What?” Gaz demands.

Soap emerges again, a bag of medicine between his teeth. “Bees got the human,” he repeats, and sprints in the direction of the humming.

Gaz sets down his drink and runs after him. Sure enough, in the copse of trees on the north side of the island, they find the human, sitting on the ground beside an abandoned hive, one eye swollen closed and looking very sorry for yourself.

“Shaking trees again, are you?” Soap says cheerfully, hiding his concern away so as to keep you calm.

The poor thing nods, tears flowing from your one good eye. “Sometimes money falls out,” you say.

“Got to be faster with that net, ken?” the horse says gently, getting to his knees and opening the bag.

As Soap applies the medicine and does his best to calm you down, Gaz makes a mental note to talk to Price about the goodies he hides to keep you entertained. It’s important, of course, that you always have something to do, Gaz agrees with that, but maybe they should mitigate the risk of bodily injury.

Even if only so the rest of them don’t have a collective heart attack when you get stung by something nasty again, if for no other reason.

[reaper-chan666]

Gaz, looking at a tablet: Hmm... pass

Ghost: Agreed

Gaz: *swipes the screen and stares for the moment with a thoughtful look*

Ghost: Smash

Gaz: Really?

Ghost: Yep

Gaz: Damn, pass for me- *swipes screen*

Soap, whose been watching them for the past five minutes: What are you doing?

Gaz: ... looking at the mugshots of the Shadows

Soap: Fucking excuse me??

Ghost: Got some lookers

Soap: Oh my god- How can you two sit there and just say ya would fuck any of those damn-

Gaz: *shows him the tablet*

Soap: -oh! Oh... oh oh I see...

Ghost: Graves can do a evil runway

Soap: ... smash

Gaz & Ghost: *nod in agreement*

[reaper-chan666]

:D

[reaper-chan666]

Listen, I'm not saying that I want to marry Nikolai and Price and be their good house wife buuuut-

Man why am I imagining Price and Nikolai sharing a wife like she’s a fuckin’ timeshare. Like yeah, they work together sometimes, but otherwise Price has got you with him when Nik is on a long job, and Nik has got you with him when Price is deployed.

99% of their back and forth texts are about you. Pictures of you, updates on you, where they’ve been taking you on dates, videos of cum leaking out of the puffy, swollen lips of your cunt. And they’ve got basically the same philosophy about giving you a baby— they can share the responsibility. They’re both busy, dangerous men. It would be cruel to have wives of their own— poor women would be alone for half the year. This way they can keep their careers and you can get some much needed attention.

The way they talk about you is so insanely intimate and yet so utterly casual.

“Calendar says she should be ovulatin’ soon. Got plans?”

“Making a Black Forest cake for her as we speak. Says you haven’t been able to find her a decent one in London.”

“Slander— bird’s got impossibly high standards. And she’s always been soft for sweets from you, Nik. Hope you’re ready to get your balls fuckin’ drained, mate.”

“I’m betting on it.”

[reaper-chan666]

Alejandro: You're DATING Graves!?

Price: ... yes?

Alejandro: *angry Alejandro noises*

Price: Don’t try to lecture me, I'm older than you

Alejandro: I'm 38

Price: ... well shit-

[reaper-chan666]

got some thoughts for ya…..plumber!Soap in half undone coveralls……Ghost in animal control with a big ass metal trap and snare in his hands……a bunch of chunky silver rings on Gaz’s hand when he grabs your face…..that’s all….

[reaper-chan666]

”the internet is an evil place!!” for you. i have a mile long blocklist and the best mutuals ever

[reaper-chan666]

Price: Somehow it would seem that my surprise children take after Nik quite a bit... Laswell: Simon and Farah have his deep, brown eyes, feral approach to situations. Both Kyle and Gary share his impulsive nature... and you're here Price: What- Laswell: None of them have your eyes or attitude, John. Are they really yours? Price: Kate- Laswell: Maybe he should get some tests done Price: Why are you like this???

[reaper-chan666]

Soap: Why are you the way that you are.

Graves: What? Handsome? Charismatic? Good at my job?

Soap: No! I meant--

Graves: Gayer than a dentist office on surgery day?

Soap: What??

Graves: Hey, he started it. *points at Nik*

Soap: Who--

Graves: And the captain finished me. It. Finished it.

Soap: I MEANT WHY YOU'RE AN ANNOYING PRICK, FUCK ME--NOW I NEED BRAIN BLEACH.

Graves: >:3

[reaper-chan666]

Sending a furious text to a tinder date that’s stood you up, except they gave you a false number, one that in actual fact belongs to Kyle Garrick.

He’s lounging in his bed on base, football scores on the radio, idly doom scrolling the gram and thinking about nothing in particular, when a message pops up. The contact isn’t saved in his phone.

Thanks for nothing you prick. Next time I want a disappointing night, I’ll imagine the contents of your boxers instead of leaving the house.

His eyebrows just about shoot through the ceiling at that. It’s a dull afternoon, not much to do. It wouldn’t do any harm to reply, set the record straight.

Think you’ve got the wrong number. Nothing disappointing in my boxers, I promise. Hope your day improves!

It’s delivered, then nothing. Not a peep. Kyle’s just considering getting up, seeing if Johnny fancies a kick about with the battered football they share custody of, when another ping sounds.

Bullshit. You’re a waste of makeup.

That makes him chuckle, so fiery. To be fair the bloke who’s stood you up does sound like a tosser. Without thinking much about it, he sends you a selfie, wide grin accompanied by a cheerful thumbs up.

I would never waste your makeup darlin.

Then his phone gets dumped on the bed and forgotten about for an hour or two.

Meanwhile, you’re staring at the image now flickering across your screen. Probably the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, soft amber eyes, buzzed hair and shoulders that look like they lift quite enough in the gym filling the screen.

Shit shit shit. Definitely not your date.

You send him a meek sorry back, then cuddle up in bed, having had quite enough trauma for one day.

When morning comes, it dawns with a fresh perspective. No more shitty tinder dates, time to focus on yourself. Inner peace or whatever they call it. You’re surprised when he messages again actually, but maybe not altogether displeased, despite your commitment to removing yourself from the dating pool.

He is very handsome. If that’s his real picture.

Not forgiven I’m afraid. Insulting a strangers cock is a low blow.

You stifle a tiny smile.

I am sorry! I thought you were someone else!

A pause. Then a response in turn.

Promise me you won’t give anymore time to the cunt you were supposed to meet last night. That will get you halfway there.

Throwing caution to the wind, you send him a selfie in return, mouth turned down in a sad pout.

Promise. And I am sorry.

Back on base, Kyle has a forkful of scrambled eggs going cold halfway to his mouth, grinning at his phone.

“Wind will change and you’ll be stuck like tha.” Simon grunts.

Johnny leans over to sneak a peek at Kyle’s screen.

“Fuck me who’s the knockout! Yer bird?!”

“Yeah.” Kyle replies nonchalantly, setting down his fork and locking the screen. “Fell right in to my lap actually, meant to be.”

It’s only a very small white lie. Until he gets to take you out for a date that decidedly won’t be disappointing.

Kyle definitely believes in kismet. Why else would such a pretty thing have stumbled so furiously into his life?!