I write for the COD fandom and tend to favor writing long fics. Anything under 1-2k is a rarity for me. I like detail, I can't help it.
I enjoy writing angst, smut, action, AUs, dire situations, whump and dark things. And because of those topics...
This is an 18+ space. Minors do not interact.
I will block ageless and blank blogs as I see them. However, you, and you alone, are responsible for what you consume online. I am not your parent; I don't even have my own kids.
Last, but not least, I do not support the use of AI. At all. Do not put my stuff in AI and if you use it just move along off my blog.
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I write for all the 141, Alex Keller and have dabbled with Alejandro. I will not write Graves (in a positive light) or König (ever).
If you enjoy my work please follow, reblog and/or comment! I like interacting with you all! It also helps other people find my work.💙
Here’s the thing: authors know when they get a rec on an older story. There’s a telltale uptick of kudos (with a 10-15% comment rate if you’re lucky) in your digest email.
The thing is, there’s no way to know where these people are coming from. In the before, when fandom was more in the corners we all knew about, you could search LJ or a message board or whatever social bookmarking site we were using. You could join the community and participate.
You could get a little dopamine hit by seeing someone tell their friends why they loved your story.
Anymore, those recs are hidden in discords, or in tiktoks or instagram slideshows that you can’t search for. They’re inaccessible, not discoverable unless you’re already there. You may never know why 27 people left kudos on an old story of yours, what they liked and found in your writing. You just get the thumbs up and a kinda lonely feeling, cause these could be your people. You could like them, maybe. You could be friends.
But you’ll never find out why they stopped by, or what people are saying about you behind your back, and that’s sad.
So thank you to the people who still do public rec lists on this webbed site. You are my sunshine, and I’m appreciative of all of you.
honestly sometimes there's no better feeling than rereading a fic you've written and coming out of it going, "yeah that actually this DOES slap. exactly what i wanted to read. fucking nailed it."
Walked out to my car this morning to go to work and the passenger window had a gigantic crack in it. No idea how or when it happened as I haven’t driven in a few days.
Siiiiiigh.
Just existing is expensive these days. I didn’t even go anywhere or do anything and I gotta pay a huge ass bill.
The team figures out Price has you saved in his phone as Trouble.
Gender Neutral Reader
747 Words
18+ | MDNI
The brief was taking forever. Price knew it, Kate knew it. They all did. But it was the necessary evil of running ops. This one in particular was dry as hell because it had been surveillance only. No action. No contact. Just hours and hours of watching.
Tossing his phone onto the table after refreshing his email for the third time in five minutes, for want of something to distract him, Price let out a sigh. The glare Kate cut him was almost enough for him to school his face. Almost.
When it was his turn to go over his input, Price rose from his seat to stand at the head of the table. It took a second for the screen to swap to his part when his phone vibrated. Just once. He glanced at it before turning his attention back to what he was working on. It vibrated again. He paused, but nothing more. Just two text messages. Probably some bullshit marketing.
Then it started to buzz intently, sending the phone dancing on the tabletop. He couldn’t get to it so he gestured for Soap to grab and silence it. But the smirk on Soap’s face told him he had made a mistake.
“What?” Price asked as Soap showed the still vibrating phone to Gaz who cut him a shit eating grin.
“Who’s Trouble?” Gaz asked and John felt his face fall, just for a second but it wasn’t missed by anyone.
“No one,” Price answered quickly, extending his hand for the phone.
“It’s someone,” Soap insisted as the call went to voicemail. Then it started back up ringing again. “And they really want to talk to you.”
“Don’t,” Price warned but it was too late. They were all dying for a distraction in this meeting.
Soap was quick with the swipe to answer and hitting speaker.
“John? Oh thank God, I need your help,” your voice sounded through the room. “John?” You asked after a second of silence.
Then laughter filled the space.
“You have them saved as Trouble?” Ghost asked having recognized your voice as Gaz fell about laughing.
“I,” you started before putting it together. “Don’t laugh. You have no idea-” but you’re cut off.
“What could a little analyst possibly do to get that nickname?” Gaz asked as Price lunged for the phone and took it off speaker.
Price kept the conversation short, answering you with simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ responses as he cut glares at everyone, before hanging up. The room was a second from exploding with questions but Price ended it before it could start.
“I’m not answering any of you,” he stated before going back to his presentation. “We have work to finish then I have another meeting.”
“A meeting? Or meeting?” Soap egged on, but was met with silence.
As time passed phones around the room vibrated. It was quiet, not all at once, but after thirty minutes there were multiple messages on everyone’s phone. When Ghost dug out his own to glance at it, he quickly locked it and shoved it away. Gaz glanced at his and excused himself for a moment to collect himself. And Soap choked on his own air when he saw his messages.
The little analyst had access to many things. Many, many things. And you had sent out a few pieces of information you had just to show them that the nickname Trouble was more than fitting, perhaps it was even understated.
And maybe you mixed up the recipients of these messages, on accident. Of course.
You had meant to send Soap his naked mirror shot to himself and not to Ghost. And Gaz certainly wasn’t the intended recipient of the video of Ghost and the pretty sergeant from their last op in his bed. Though, Soap was always nice to you. He stopped by when he could to talk and flirt a bit. So you sent him an image of Gaz on his knees in only a towel. As a treat.
Price knew exactly what was happening based on everyone’s faces. But he was a bit shocked to see Kate lose her composure, for even a second, as she nearly dropped her phone. No one ever flustered Kate, not a gun to the face or walking in on Price with her secretary bent over her own damn desk.
"And this," Price said as he looked around the room at the stunned and properly humbled faces, "is why they're saved as Trouble."
——————————————
Just needed a little palate cleanser that I could write from the comfort of my phone on the couch. Sáwel-Dreór and Lifeline are both very intense at the moment😅.
I've found writing in a Word document is much more intimidating than writing on Tumblr. I don't know why.
So I instead write on Tumblr, copy over anything new back to my main Word doc for safety when I'm done for the moment/if I wrote alot, then save the draft. I also save the Word document to my computer and two different cloud locations. I grew up in the 90s/00s when things legitimately would just disappear or corrupt for no reason so I'm not risking it.
Anyway. If you have a similar problem when you look at a blank document, try to find somewhere else to write is my advice. It made a huge difference for me.
This will be a tense chapter, and not all in the fun sexy way. Reader may have found a way to break the contract…but unfortunately the solution comes with its own set of problems and not everyone is going to be happy.
As the saying goes, nothing worth having comes easy.
we can all agree that we didn’t like Mrs. Nettles but damn she did not have to go down like that lmaoo 😭😭
Mrs. Nettles was unfortunately a sacrificial lamb in this story from the jump 😅. I wasn’t sure how I was going to do it, but I knew one way or another it was coming.
When I write I tend to have key plot points I need to get to for the meat of the story, then I figure out how it’s going to happen as I write. Sometimes the things I come up with even surprise me. The idea for how she went out actually popped up, from all things, an Unsolved Mysteries episode I had on in the background while I cleaned my house.
Poor little old lady…but moral of the story, don’t be a nosey neighbor 🤣. If she didn’t insist on knowing everyone’s business she wouldn’t have gotten mixed up with the “neighborhood watch”.
The debrief lasted longer than Kyle wanted, but not more than he had expected. It had taken a while for Kate to walk through Alex’s information, for them to give their details, and for Johnny to fill in his side. He had seen the way Johnny’s eyes flicked about the room to try to find what he wanted to say at certain parts. As if he were trying to cover some intimate details that weren’t pertinent to what happened, but still did. Kyle had caught his eye as Price and Ghost debated with Kate about security measures at the house, and the smirk they shared told Kyle that they both had a similar, not so hidden secret.
When they broke for the evening, well morning really, John had stopped them all from heading to bed right away. They needed to eat, needed a moment to just breathe and be normal for a second. Celeste had made them all plates, and Johnny explained how she had been fretting about their lack of food and sleep for the past few days, making them all grin. As they stood and sat around the kitchen island, Kyle could feel the tension melt away a bit. Feel the soldiers in constant fight mode slip back under, and so it was just the four of them enjoying one another’s company. They would still be on alert, still waiting for the shoe to drop, but now that they were together, it wasn’t as hard.
“I’ll take first watch,” Johnny volunteered as he dropped dishes in the sink. “I’ve had more sleep than you lot.”
“Debatable,” Simon answered as he looked Johnny over. He knew he would have been up almost every night, barely sleeping. At least when it was the three of them, they could take shifts knowing someone else was around to have their back.
“Then stay with me,” Johnny said as he crossed his arms over his chest. “The couch out here isn’t half bad. There’s also a second bedroom back behind the office,” he gestured, looking between John and Kyle. “Has its own bathroom, though it’s not as nice as the main suite…Celeste already beat you to that.” He grinned a bit.
“I’m going to shower,” John said as he stood up, sweeping his hat off his head and running a hand through his flattened hair. “Go check on Celeste,” he offered to Kyle. The tone was knowing, and the smile reassuring that he was not bothered.
“Right,” Kyle said without preamble as he cleaned up his own mess and washed his hands. “You can wake me in a few hours,” Kyle stated to Johnny, to which John cut in that he would take second watch, that Simon and Johnny could have his bed. Of course, he would, because he knew Kyle needed a longer break. Had known he had hardly slept with the racing thoughts and worry.
Kyle didn’t knock this time as he opened the bedroom door, afraid Celeste might be asleep. Instead, he slipped in, shutting the door quietly behind him as he looked toward the bed to find her there. She was fast asleep, curled slightly on her side with her hand still half holding a book open. As if she hadn’t meant to fall asleep, like she had been waiting. He watched her for a moment, waiting to see if he had disturbed her, but she didn’t move.
Careful to not wake her, Kyle kicked off his shoes and dropped his bag near the wall, emptying out his pockets of everything save for a pistol on his hip. Even though they were in a safe house, he wasn’t going to be out of reach of a gun at any moment, and he knew it would be that way for a long time. When he was fully disarmed and down to just gym shorts, he wandered to the bathroom to get ready for bed before walking around the room, working on cutting all the lights she had left on, save for the bathroom. He wasn’t sure if she had the lights to try and keep herself awake, or if the dark had turned into something scary. The last thing he wanted was for her to wake up in an unfamiliar place, unable to see or know where she was. He would be there, of course, but she wouldn’t know that.
When he made it over to the bed, he slowly reached over Celeste to nab the book out of her hands. He slipped a piece of paper into the page she was on as a bookmark, set it on the nightstand, then gently worked the blankets out to cover her. She had changed out of the robe into a simple oversized shirt as a nightgown, and Kyle stared at it, recognizing it instantly. It was Johnny’s. An old ratty thing he wore on lazy days, so worn down that the collar was overstretched and wavy but also buttery soft.
While the bed was big enough to fit at least four people, Kyle resided himself to the couch in the small seating area. He knew it wasn’t going to be the most uncomfortable thing in the world, but it also wasn’t the worst thing he had lain on to sleep. While there was a perfectly good bed to lie in with John, he had promised Celeste he would come back, and he wasn’t about to break that.
As he moved to step away, Celeste mumbled softly, her eyes fluttering a bit as his fingers lingered on the nightstand lamp.
“It’s me,” Kyle said quietly before tacking on, “Kyle,” unsure if she would be able to discern his voice in her half asleep brain.
“Kyle,” Celeste muttered, reaching up to push the hair off her face. She had fallen asleep with it wet, she could feel it sticking to her skin and knew it was going to be an absolute mess to try and work out in the morning. “Time is it?” She asked, the words slurring together as she tried to find the alarm clock.
“Little past three,” Kyle replied, “I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep,” he said as he moved a bit to block some of the nightstand light as she squinted against the intrusion.
“Three?” Celeste asked before sighing, leaning back into the pillows.
“Yes,” Kyle answered, trying to hide the amusement in his voice as he watched her sleep addled brain try to piece everything together. “Still have some time to sleep. I’ll be right over there,” he gestured toward the couch.
“No, stay,” Celeste said as she looked up at him.
“I’m not going anywhere, just the couch,” he explained again.
“No,” Celeste stated again as she scooted back on the bed to give him room. “Stay here. That couch is awful.”
“I don’t know if,” Kyle started, unsure if this was wise. She was barely conscious. What would happen if she woke up and found him there and panicked? That was some boundary to cross without explicit consent.
“Kyle,” Celeste said, feeling a bit cranky that he was keeping her awake with this. “If you go to that couch, I am going with you,” she said firmly. “I waited long enough for you, now you have to deal with my snoring.”
“Are you sure?” He asked again as he hesitated, despite how much he wanted to crawl into those sheets and pass out.
“I will drag you,” Celeste replied, “get in bed. It’s big enough for both of us, so you can have your own space.”
“Personal space isn’t really my thing,” Kyle replied as he set his handgun on the nightstand and slipped into the sheets, dragging her body close to him.
She was warm, almost too warm, like Johnny, as he tugged her tight to his chest. Her bare legs instantly twined against his as she flung an arm over him. As he turned to reach for the lamp, he felt her huff in displeasure for being jostled around as he rolled back, wrapping his arm around her. She nuzzled down, and in less than two minutes she was back out. He could hear her breathing turn heavy and slow, and as he shut his eyes, grinning to himself despite the exhaustion. He was asleep not long after her.
Celeste woke suddenly.
As if an alarm had gone off or her brain had remembered something extremely important she had to get to. She shifted quickly, moving to roll on her back to feel someone there holding her tight against them. It was early morning, and sunlight was poking around the edges of the blackout curtains. She had fallen asleep when she hadn’t meant to, who knew how much time she had lost. Twisting to look at who was behind her, she bit back a small gasp of surprise to find Kyle there.
Her chest tightened at the sight of him. She had meant to stay awake, to wait for him to come back so they could talk, but she had fallen asleep while reading. It was coming back to her in fragments. She remembered waking up to Kyle tucking her in, something about a couch, and her demanding he get into the bed. That was very forward of her, she thought, and cringed a bit. But that had been it, really. She wanted him to get into bed to sleep, said the couch was uncomfortable, and that she was cranky for being woken up. Perfectly innocent.
Yet.
She could feel the way Kyle held her, his arm woven over her, his hand pressed against her stomach, keeping her tucked to him. His other arm was under her pillow, supporting both of their heads. And his legs were curled into hers, perfectly flattening her against him. His breathing was slow and soft, tickling the back of her neck where he had buried his face in her hair. It was an intimate way to be held, and she smiled a bit to herself as she looked down at his hand, where Johnny’s oversized shirt had bunched up, revealing her bare thigh and the hint of her underwear. But he was still carefully keeping his hand over the fabric, even in his sleep.
“Five more minutes,” Kyle muttered against Celeste’s neck, having woken up the instant she moved. Even his deep need for sleep didn’t override the alert instinct.
“We can stay here all day,” Celeste replied contentedly, not wanting to get up either.
“John may have something to say about that,” Kyle answered, letting his lips brush the nape of her neck as he continued to lie there with his eyes closed.
“He can deal,” Celeste answered, feeling goosebumps on her skin. “You need about ten more hours of sleep at least.”
“Had a solid four,” he answered, “that’s as good as twelve for me after the week I had.”
“You and Johnny are both so determined to run yourselves into the ground,” Celeste sighed as Kyle’s thumb gently began to run circles on her stomach. “There is nothing wrong with taking a break.”
“This is nothing on John and Simon,” Kyle replied as he felt Celeste shift her legs a bit.
“It’s not a contest,” Celeste said with a small smile. “Go back to sleep, I’ll stay with you like you stayed with me.”
“Mmm,” Kyle replied, pressing a sleepy kiss to her neck. “I don’t think I had a choice. You were very demanding.”
Celeste felt herself grow a bit hot around her ears at that. She had been very demanding. “I mean, I can go if that’ll help you sleep,” she said, adjusting a bit as if she were getting out of bed.
“Definitely not,” Kyle said as he tightened his grip. “I like having you right here.”
Celeste smiled softly at that, relaxing back into him instead of trying to move again. She let her hand drift down to where his was resting against her stomach and threaded her fingers loosely with his. Kyle shifted slightly behind her, not to move away but to settle in deeper, his face pressing more comfortably into the curve of her neck. His breathing slowed again, evening out as if he were trying to get back to sleep, but couldn’t quite get there.
“You’re really warm,” he muttered a few minutes later, voice still heavy with sleep. “Like Johnny,” he mused as he felt Celeste laugh a bit.
“Don’t be fooled, my feet are like ice blocks when I first get into bed,” Celeste answered.
“Good thing you went to bed first, then,” Kyle answered, stifling a yawn.
Celeste twisted a bit to turn her head toward him, her nose brushing faintly against his face as she looked over her shoulder. His eyes were half open, watching her through the last bit of sleep that was still holding on.
“You are supposed to be trying to get back to sleep,” Celeste said.
“I’m resting, close enough,” Kyle replied, grinning as Celeste gave him a small eye roll.
“If you don’t go to sleep, I am going to get up and lock you in here,” she threatened, even though it was an empty one. “Clearly you can’t focus on sleep with me here.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Kyle answered as he grabbed her hip and flipped her over to face him so quickly that Celeste let out a squeak of surprise. Even exhausted and half awake, he was quick and strong.
“Fine, fine,” Celeste laughed as she reached her hand up to cup his cheek.
Up close, he looked even worse than the night before. The exhaustion hadn’t eased. If anything, it looked like it had settled deeper into him. But the smile he was giving her was enough to distract her from that worry.
“John wanted to regroup at nine,” Kyle stated as he watched Celeste lean up to check the clock over his shoulder. “How much time do we have?”
“About thirty minutes,” Celeste stated as she settled back. “Twenty minute cat nap then we can get ready.”
“I’m not going back to sleep,” Kyle stated as he watched her face, “not when I have a better idea for twenty minutes,” he smiled as he watched Celeste bite the inside of her cheek, as if debating.
He let his eyes flick to her lips before back to her eyes, waiting for permission, and when she didn’t pull away, he leaned in to capture her lips with his. He took his time, kissing her slowly, feeling at each passing second how she relaxed even further into him. How, when she opened her mouth for him to let his tongue slide in, she fully leaned against him, her fingers softly digging into his chest to hold him.
This was all he wanted, had been for some time. It had killed him to leave her on this mission and to go so fast. There were no lingering farewells, he hadn’t even been brave enough to kiss her goodbye properly. A subconscious fear that if he kissed her, it would be too final. He had known she was perfectly safe with Johnny, but Makarov had a way of ruining everything.
“Kyle,” Celeste sighed out as his kisses moved to her jaw and down to her neck, making her crane her head back a bit to give him room.
Where Johnny had been a quick house fire that made her want to pin him down on the couch and have her way with him, Kyle was a low white hot flame. It took its time, consuming everything, and before she knew it, everything was aflame. His lips felt like brands on her skin, and the soft chuckle he let out after she whined when he nipped her neck made her squeeze her thighs together. And he knew it too because his hand that was on her leg twitched at her body’s response, thumb digging into the soft spot on her hip.
“I can stop,” Kyle breathed into Celeste’s ear as she shivered against him, pressing a kiss to the soft spot just under it.
“No,” Celeste said, as if sounding terrified he would. “No, I don’t want you to,” she continued, her hands sliding around his neck to hold him to her.
Kyle moved his hand down her leg, hooking behind her knee to drag her leg over his hip so he could settle properly between her thighs. When she sighed into his mouth at the pressure she had been looking for, Kyle stole the rest of her breath away with a sound kiss, his hand gripping her backside to keep her tight to him.
Celeste’s body felt like it was finally waking up, finally ready for the attention she had been denying it. After Tristan’s death, the thought of sex hadn’t crossed her mind once for the first full year. Not even a small desire to tend to her needs flitted across her mind, the bedside drawer remaining untouched to the point she wasn’t even sure if the items inside worked anymore. It had only been a few weeks back that she finally felt the want to reconnect with herself in the shower. And for the first time in over a decade, her mind hadn’t been on Tristan during the act. But there had been no shame in it as she had thought there would be. She had expected guilt, tears, as she stood under the shower spray after she came down from the orgasm, but there wasn’t any. She had smiled. It had been nice, a release she didn’t know she missed until she did it.
Twenty minutes was not enough. She wanted more. Wanted to get lost in bed for hours, days. Celeste ran her hand down Kyle’s arm, curling her arm slightly behind her to grab at his hand, and he instantly released his grip. She could feel him ready to pull away, to roll away and apologize, but she stopped him, squeezing lightly as she guided his hand up under the bunch of her shirt to smooth up her ribs. His hands were pleasantly calloused, catching along her skin as he curled his fingers to lightly scratch at the sensitive spots, making her squirm slightly, then gasp at the friction she had caused for herself.
Kyle didn’t need to be shown what she wanted any longer. He let his hand glide up along her side, curving around to her back a bit to let his thumb brush along the side of her breast. It was a subtle touch, but he knew she was zeroed in on it like he was. As he stroked his thumb back and forth, going further each time, he could feel her twist into the touch. She wanted more. Fuck he needed more time. How long could he push it before someone came knocking.
“Please,” Celeste nearly begged as she pulled away from the kiss to look down between them to where his hand was. He was so close, and she couldn’t take the tension any longer. Just seeing his fingers move under the fabric was going to make her combust.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he moved to cup her breast fully, matching her stuttering intake of breath with his own exhale. She kissed him again then, feverishly, as he gently squeezed, letting his thumb find her nipple and trace small circles over it. Her breath was hitched, but he didn’t relent, enjoying how she was fighting to continue to kiss him and not pull away to moan. She didn’t have to fight long, though, because it was him who had to pull away first, a groan slipping from his lips as she began to rock her hips against his, grinding herself against his length.
“We only have a few minutes,” Celeste gasped out as Kyle rolled onto his back, pulling her on top of him, with an obvious intent to keep this going.
“I don’t mind running a few laps if we’re late,” Kyle replied with a grin as he reached up to brush some hair out of her face.
“As long as I don’t have to run,” Celeste said with a grin as she braced her hands on his shoulders to steady herself, and kissed him, rolling her hips much more easily in that position.
Kyle let his hands explore, tracing down her spine, teasing along the elastic line of her underwear, and over the tops of her thighs. When she sat up a bit more, he let both his hands glide up her stomach to palm both of her breasts, giving him a small sneak peek at her soft stomach. She was entirely too clothed for his liking. He wanted to feel her skin against his, to memorize every inch of her with his fingers and lips. To see her body react to his touch.
“Can I see you?” Kyle asked after a moment as she arched into his ministrations, her head tossed back to the pleasure.
When Celeste shifted to look down at Kyle she felt a small hesitation in her mind, a moment of self consciousness at being exposed that way. He was shirtless under her, the only stitch of clothing he had on was gym shorts, which didn’t leave much to the imagination as his hardness rubbed over her overly sensitive clit. It was only fair to match him. Then, when he gave her a smile, a genuine, encouraging one that had no pressure behind it, she agreed. Ignoring how her hands felt like they were shaking, she reached down to grab the hem of her shirt, Johnny’s shirt, and tugged it up quickly. She didn’t want to back out, not really, and she was afraid that if she went too slow, she’d stop.
She was beautiful.
It was cliché, but it was the truth, and the only thing Kyle could think of as he looked at her. Her curves were gentle, cinching in a bit at her waist only to flow out again at her hips. His eyes spotted a delicate script tattoo on her ribs that he couldn’t quite make out at the angle he was at, and an old scar right under her collarbone he had never seen before. He didn’t stare long, even though he wanted to memorize every inch of her, because he could see how nervous she was. She was almost holding her breath with her eyes pinched shut, fingers still clasping the fabric of the shirt as if ready to cover herself at any moment.
“Celeste,” Kyle said quietly as his fingers splayed on both her thighs, gently squeezing them to get her attention. “Look at me,” he continued, shifting a bit to push up on his elbows.
“Sorry,” Celeste murmured as she peeked her eyes open, afraid she had ruined the moment.
“No need to say sorry,” Kyle said. “You’re beautiful,” he stated, and he felt her resist, saw her start to open her mouth to protest. “No,” he insisted, cutting off her words. “You are beautiful, and I am so fucking lucky.”
“I,” Celeste started. What did she say to that? Thank you felt egotistical. Saying no would be a lie, she knew she was at least a bit attractive, and she had confidence enough to know she was. But sitting there under Kyle’s gaze felt different. He wasn’t looking at her like he wanted something more from her, but that she was genuinely someone he did feel privileged to be with in this moment.
“You don’t have to say anything,” Kyle answered after a second, not wanting to make her more flustered. “I don’t need you to agree with me because I already know I’m right,” he teased, hoping to lighten the moment.
A small laugh escaped Celeste before she could stop it, carefully tossing the shirt to the side. “Full of yourself,” she mumbled, which in turn made him grin.
“Mmm, I mean, you could be full of me too. Only need to ask,” he taunted, hoping to get her to let her guard down again so they could get back to what they were doing. He didn’t want her to get into her head, she'd lived there for too much of her life as of recent, and he wanted her to let go for both of their sakes. As her eyes widened, he shifted so they were seated together, letting her wrap her legs around him so they were pressed chest to chest, faces barely an inch apart.
“We don’t have time for all that,” Celeste barely whispered as she looked up at Kyle, trying to hide how much he flustered her as she wrapped her hands around his neck.
“It wouldn’t be right now,” he replied, nudging her head back with his own to capture her lips again, this time with a bit more fire behind it. “I want to take my time,” he continued, nipping her bottom lip, “and I need a full night to be able to do that.”
“A full night?” Celeste asked, feeling her stomach coil in anticipation at that.
“Mmm, and the morning after,” Kyle answered as he pushed some hair off her shoulder to kiss the spot there, “then the afternoon.” His voice was low as his hands grabbed her backside to pull her hips flush against his, taking a sharp breath as she pressed against his painfully hard cock. “Maybe we should make it a full two days. To be safe,” he reasoned as he continued to trail his kisses across her collarbone, letting her lean back to give him full access. She moaned loud enough that he was sure anyone in the living room would have heard when his lips finally closed around one of her nipples.
“Kyle,” Celeste gasped out, nearly climaxing as he darted his eyes up to hers with a smirk before he flicked his tongue over her.
“Yes?” He teased, giving her a perfectly innocent look even though he knew what he was doing.
“Tonight,” she nearly begged. “Please,” she added as he rubbed his thumb over her abused nipple.
“Tonight,” he agreed, knowing that getting through that day was going to be an absolute nightmare. The anticipation was going to be the death of him, but it also made it that much more fun. Especially knowing he was leaving her craving more, and she was going to be suffering the same way.
“Now we'd better get ready,” he tried, but she didn’t let him get away that quickly. She grabbed his face with both of her hands and kissed him hard enough that he had to catch himself with his hands behind him to not fall back. He could feel her need with each kiss, each stroke of her tongue against his, and the way she ground against him.
“Oi!” Johnny called as he knocked hard on the bedroom door. He had held off the other two for as long as he could, distracting Simon with a shower and plying both men with coffee. But fifteen minutes was as much as he could get, military men were sticklers for time. “Let’s go, Simon’s hungry and we all know what happens when we don’t feed him.”
“Piss off,” Simon huffed from the couch. He was well aware of what was happening in the bedroom. He could hear the moans and pants in every quiet moment on the television, which prompted him to turn the volume up a few more notches as he scratched Samson’s ears.
“Shit,” Celeste panted from where Kyle had rolled her under him.
“This is your fault,” Kyle teased as he gently kissed her sternum and scrambled off her. “Distracting me.”
“Who distracted who!” Celeste hissed as she scooted off the bed to go find clothes.
“I believe it was you who said please so prettily,” he pushed, ducking as Celeste threw Johnny’s shirt at him as she darted to the bathroom.
He dressed relatively quickly, a pleased grin plastered on his face as he walked out of the bedroom with a toothbrush still in his mouth. The look he got from the other three men nearly made him laugh. There was no embarrassment or hiding around them. Still, he was glad he exited the room first to let them get their exchanges out before Celeste made an appearance.
“Did you get any sleep?” Johnny asked with an eyebrow raise.
“Some,” Kyle ventured as he wandered to the kitchen sink to spit and rinse his mouth. Two cups of coffee were waiting for him and Celeste, made the way they both liked it. “May need a nap for later.”
“Slag,” Johnny answered with a laugh.
“You don’t get to say anything,” Kyle replied to Johnny as John walked over to fill his own cup.
“How is she?” John asked, then quickly expanded at the look Kyle gave him, “I mean, with all this. Does she seem alright after everything?”
“Sure,” Kyle replied with a laugh, “she seems alright. Worried but,” he shrugged, “we all are.”
“What’s the plan?” Kyle asked as he moved to the couch.
“We’ll go over it when Celeste is here,” John said as he took a seat on Kyle’s other side, letting their knees press together as he relaxed into the cushions.
Celeste readied herself as fast as she could, giving up on trying to do anything with her hair. Between sleeping on it wet, Kyle running his hands through it, and mussing it up in the pillows as they messed about, it was a disaster. She tossed it up into a ponytail, and after a quick glance at the weather for the day, warm and slightly humid, she pulled out a sundress.
“Sorry I’m late,” Celeste said as she walked out of the bedroom, doing her best to not flush as all four of them looked at her. “I, ah, we overslept,” she lied lamely. To their credit, none of them pressed her on it, and instead, they just nodded, and Johnny gestured to the last cup of coffee on the counter for her. “I can call down for breakfast,” she offered before quickly going to the kitchen area to grab the drink and down about half of it in her nervous energy, then placing their food order. Pretty much the entire menu, some of it doubled.
“We head back today,” John said after they had all eaten their way through all the food, plates piled precariously on the coffee table. “Johnny and Celeste will take the car they drove here back to the village to pick up her car. You’ll drop it where you picked it up, walk back to Celeste's car, and go home. Tire has been changed already, and it’s ready to go,” John explained. “We will be taking a separate car right home. We’ll get in about two hours before you,” he paused, looking at Samson, who was currently begging him for bacon. “We’ll take Samson,” he offered, “Johnny filled us in on the ride here, and since yours will be longer…well, Makarov will know something is up already, a cat won’t change much.”
“He’ll probably be perfectly fine with Simon,” Celeste said, her voice jokingly bitter. “Is there anything we need to be worried about?”
“Always,” Simon answered for John. “But directly at the moment, I don’t think so. Makarov will be spending his time trying to figure out how we snuck past him. And trying to figure out what we gained from this. I don’t think he’s going to be lying in wait.”
“But that is why we’re going to get there ahead of you,” Kyle answered, “so we can do a clean sweep. Check the security footage and make sure it’s all clear.”
“When do we leave?” Celeste asked, but she already knew the answer, judging by the bags at the front door. They were ready to go now and get back home. Anxious to be home and also about what they could possibly find.
“We’re going to head out now,” John said as he looked at Johnny. “You all will leave out the back with shift change,” he checked his watch, “which is in about thirty minutes. It gives you more cover to slip out without too many eyes on you. The longer we can shake any type of tail, the better.”
“I need to go pack then,” Celeste muttered as she stood up, smoothing out her dress and missing the fact that four sets of eyes watched her walk away.
“Almost wish you were me, huh?” Johnny teased Simon, who shoved him as he got up off the couch.
“Keep it tactical,” Simon huffed. “You’ll be on your own again.”
“I did fine the first time,” Johnny answered as he went to find Samson’s carrier.
The three men left much in the way they came in, except they weren’t armed to the teeth to the visible eye. They were in civilian clothing, but there were weapons within easy reach on all of them. Samson was quiet in his carrier, Simon having drugged him earlier that morning without much fanfare. Johnny and Celeste followed not long after, slipping out the back stairs with the cleaning crew and into the sleek black car they had driven there.
“My car really is a shit box,” Celeste sighed after about ten minutes of being in it on their way home. It wasn’t nearly as smooth on the road as the one they had borrowed, and the engine was much louder.
“Don’t admit that to Simon,” Johnny said as he navigated between cars, pushing the speed limit. “Or he’ll get you a new one and happily take this to the junk yard.”
“He wouldn’t,” Celeste answered, a bit shocked, but at the knowing look Johnny gave her, she knew he was right. “I couldn’t accept a new car,” she continued, even though it would be nice.
“You wouldn’t have a choice,” Johnny stated, “Simon doesn’t exactly listen or take no for an answer.”
“So I’ve learned,” Celeste replied.
When they got back to the house, John was the first out of the car, pistol on his thigh, loaded with one in the chamber as he walked to the front door. Simon had tapped into the cameras when they were within an acceptable range and had already started scrubbing the footage. There had been nothing of note at either of their places, but they still weren’t taking the risk. They swept their place first, letting Samson out in the living room to explore on his own before going over to Celeste’s, leaving the door cracked for him to come home when he was ready.
“Clear,” John called from Celeste’s bedroom, as Kyle echoed it from down the hall, and Simon confirmed with a hand gesture from where he checked the detached garage, when John looked out the window.
They set up camp in Celeste’s house while they waited for Johnny and Celeste to get there, Simon obsessively checking the phone tracker for their location. They had to make a stop at the Café for Celeste to continue to lay down her cover story. Apologize for the car issues she had, suck up to those that were there, find out her schedule, and pick up her check. Everything needed to look normal to everyone in her life to avoid any questions from them. It was bad enough trying to trick Makarov, small town gossip was a whole other beast.
“Dinner,” Johnny called from the front door as he heaved the bags of food, letting Celeste slip past him before kicking the door shut.
“Everything good?” John asked as Celeste kicked off her shoes and went to the sink to wash her hands.
“All fine at work,” Celeste replied. “Carl didn’t really care. Andrea looked pissed as hell,” she smirked at John over her shoulder, “she had to actually work for once. But I think they all bought the story. I let Johnny throw some big mechanical words at them, and they stopped asking questions.”
“Sounds about right,” Simon replied as he snatched a sandwich out of Johnny’s hands as he tried to lay everything out.
“What about here?” Johnny asked as he tossed a wrapped sandwich to Kyle’s waiting hands. “Anything?”
“All quiet at first glance. No evidence of visitors,” Kyle replied, “we’re going to do a closer look again to make sure we didn’t miss anything small.”
“Do you think we pulled it off then?” Celeste asked as she leaned against the counter, waving away John’s offer to take his chair. She had been sitting in the car for hours, she wanted to stand and stretch out a bit.
“Time will tell,” Kyle answered, “but for now I think it’s safe to call it a win that we are all here in one piece.”
As three of them pored over computers, rolling footage back and forth, and John tapped away at paperwork, Celeste cleaned up dinner. She balled up all the wrappings and stuffed them into her overflowing trash. In their haste to get out a few days prior, they hadn’t taken the trash out, and the smell that hit her in the face made her flinch. It needed to go out.
“I’m going to run this to the road,” Celeste said as she yanked and fought with the bag to get it out of the container. “I can do it,” she stated as Johnny rose from his seat as if he would take it. “It’s just to the road. I can grab the last of our stuff from the car, too.”
Their hands had been full with dinner that they had left a duffle in the backseat and had said they’d get it later.
“Pull up the camera,” she teased as Johnny still tried to fight her.
“Fine,” Johnny sighed as she lugged the bag out of the kitchen and to the door.
It was still warm outside, even with the sun so low in the sky that it barely gave off any light. The bugs were out in full force, and she could hear a few boat motors on the lake in the distance. Summer was starting to wind down. There would be the final surge of tourists to get in the last few weeks of the holiday before kids went back to school. There was always a small lull at the start of August, then the place would be overflowing with kids and families.
She tossed the bag into the can and paused for a moment to pluck a few weeds from around the platform before wandering to the car. It really was a beautiful time of year, and the rain was holding off for the most part. The lake helped keep things cool, the wind rushing off of it helping to keep everything cool. Perhaps she could convince the guys to take a small break and go down to the dock for a few hours. The water should be warm enough for a swim, even for her.
As she popped open the car door to get the duffle, she heard something in the bushes, making her stomach drop. The dread of someone sneaking up on her sluiced through her as she turned around quickly, prepared to yell or run. But there was no person there. Instead, the bushes rustled again before a small dog's head poked out. One of Mrs. Nettles' dogs had gotten out and was stuck in the bushes again. They liked to chase small birds and rodents, but their fur would get all tangled in the branches, and they couldn’t get back out.
“You scared the hell out of me,” Celeste breathed, hand on her hammering heart as she shut the car door and wandered over to free the dog. It was too dark to see much, but she managed to break a few branches and free the dog, who jumped easily into her arms, trembling a bit.
“Sneak out again, did you?” Celeste mumbled as she petted the dog's head. Mrs. Nettles was annoying, but the dogs weren’t so bad. It wasn’t their fault their owner was the way she was. “Lucky I found you before your mum did.”
Hiking the dog tighter under her arm, Celeste headed up to the road to walk over to Mrs. Nettles' drive to return the dog home.
“Went for a swim too?” Celeste asked as the dog whined and wriggled in her arms. Their paws and belly were all wet. “Naughty thing,” she teased as she walked down the gravel drive, a twin to her own.
The lights inside were all off, and Celeste paused for a moment. If the woman was in bed, she was about to wake her and probably be yelled at, even though Celeste was being friendly and returning the dog. She could feasibly keep the little guy that night and bring it back in the morning, but her luck, Mrs. Nettles would accuse her of dognapping. Maybe she should go get John and make him return the dog. Mrs. Nettles at least liked him.
Celeste rang the bell, then hesitated again. The bell sounded too loud to be inside. When she looked closer, the front door was ajar. She could hear the other dog inside scrambling around inside, yipping and bumping at the door.
“Mrs. Nettles?” Celeste called as she nudged the door open with her shoulder.
The house was completely dark. No television. No lamps. Not even a hallway nightlight or electronic clock.
“Hello? Mrs. Nettles?” Celeste tried again, her brain beginning to whine that something was wrong. She was an old lady. Maybe something had happened, and since she was so foul to everyone around her, no one bothered to come check on her.
The second dog came skittering around the corner again, nails scrabbling on the floor as it launched itself at her legs. It was barking frantically, spinning in a circle, before it took off down the hallway again. Barking the whole way.
Something was wrong. The dog was trying to tell her something was wrong.
She needed light.
Reaching out her fingers felt along the wall until they found a light switch. She flipped it on, wincing at the sudden blast of the LED lights. For a moment, her brain didn’t understand what she was seeing. A dark stain covered the floor. It was all over the entryway, a dark puddle that smeared down the hall as if something were dragged. There were dog prints dancing around in it. When the dog in her arms squirmed hard, to either be let down or to burrow tighter into her, Celeste looked down automatically.
The white fur wasn’t wet. It was soaked. It’s paws, belly, muzzle. All of it was absolutely covered in blood. Her stomach dropped as she looked at herself. Blood was smeared across her forearm where she had been holding it, across the front of her dress where it had wriggled, and on her legs where the other dog had jumped on her.
“Oh God,” Celeste groaned, feeling her stomach churn.
The blood trail continued down the hallway before disappearing to the right toward the living room area. Every instinct told her to run. But what if Mrs. Nettles were alive, bleeding, and in need of help.
“Mrs. Nettles!” Celeste called out as the ringing in her ears got louder. She hurried down the hall, her simple thong shoes sliding in the puddle of blood.
The living room opened in front of her, and she found the light and flipped it on. There Mrs. Nettles was. She was sitting in her armchair that faced the window, the same one she always sat in to patrol the street. The same spot Celeste had seen her in hundreds of times and had sarcastically waved to as she passed by.
For one second, Celeste tricked herself into thinking she was sleeping. But then she saw the blood that covered her chest, well, where her chest used to be. It was a twisted, tangled mess of flesh, and the smell of rot hit Celeste hard enough in the face that she dry heaved. There was blood all over the room leading to the chair, and she could see the trickle down the woman’s cheek where someone had given her a headshot to be sure she was truly dead.
The dog slipped out of her arms as she staggered away. She barely heard the yelp of disagreement as it hit the floor. She was running for the door, the scream tearing from her as she went. She couldn’t get the image out of her head, the smell from her nose. She screamed the whole way to the door, and when she made it across the threshold, she yelled again. This time a name.
“John!” She yelled loud enough that it felt like it was tearing her throat from the inside, certain she would spit up blood. Why she yelled for him of all of them, she wasn’t sure, but she screamed it again a second time. She didn’t even get to the third before he was busting through the trees that lined the property, gun drawn.
“Where?” He asked, his eyes roaming over her body, searching her for injuries since she was covered in blood.
“In-inside,” Celeste barely got out before she threw up everything she had eaten into the potted plant on the doorstep.
======================
I have been sitting on this plot point for forever, I am so happy to finally get to it.
You had tried calling the Alpha Den twice already, and this third time it's the same thing. No one is there to pick up, or they were ignoring the call. You're fairly certain it's the former because even after everything that had happened, they had never ignored you.
After Riley had left the night before, well that morning really, you had finished your dinner, setting the empty tray in the hall, and crawled into bed. You had been exhausted, so many things running through your head with all you had learned. All the lies, hidden truths and covered up history. Then the terror of the twins being there, sitting on a knifes edge waiting for the repercussions.
When you woke up the following morning, you had dug out all the files you had hidden in your closet and organized them again. Someone had brought you breakfast, so you ate while reviewing your pages of notes and questions. When you took a quick shower, you thought of more things to ask before adding those questions to the list. It had been almost noon before you decided to call down to the Alpha den.
Now it was almost one, and no one was responding. Riley had said Garrick would be there. Where was he? You suppose he could be on the property but not in the Alpha den. Maybe out on the grounds? The kitchens?
Tucking your notepad under your arm, you venture out of your room, the tray from breakfast that you had left already gone. The staff in the house worked fast and unnervingly quietly. You knew while you were gone, they would be in your room to make the bed, take away dirty clothes, and probably put away the dozens of candles you had left all over. You had been too tired to wait for the wax to harden after you blew them out before bed, and today you have more pressing matters.
You pause in the hall, debating where to go look first. You didn't know Garrick well enough yet to know his usual haunts, like you knew your family. How Thorne could always be found out at the dog kennels. The twins in the basement poring over books. Edith attached to your mother's hip, usually in her room. And your father in his office, if he was at home, or the bar near his law office.
Where would Garrick be in the early afternoon? You ponder it, trying to piece together everything you knew and had learned about him, when it clicks into place. It's not a known fact, you honestly had nothing to back up the idea, but you just knew he was still in his room. Perhaps you had caught his scent, all of them lingering in the hall made it difficult to even tell them apart, yet you can sense his stronger than the rest. Is that because he was close? Or because that is what you are looking for? Another question to ask.
Turning to the right, you pad toward their bedrooms. Eyes lingering down the left hall to MacTavish's room, the only one you hadn't seen yet, as you turn right again to go to Garrick.
You hesitate outside the door, staring at the handle, as if unsure if you want to knock now. Going to his room seemed intimate and improper. Yes, you had snuck around their rooms and taken things like a little thief, which was way worse, but you push that thought away. Being alone with an Alpha in their room was a whole different beast. No pun intended.
Maybe you could convince him to join you in the library, or the balcony, or you could stand in the hallway and just ask your questions.
Only one way to find out.
You raise your hand and knock once, too softly, before knocking again, sounding a bit more confident. Instantly, you hope he's not in, hope your instincts had steered you wrong. You could go find him elsewhere. Hell, you feel yourself backing away a step, ready to run away already. If you were fast enough, maybe he wouldn't see you.
But then you hear the door handle twist and the door click open. Too late.
"Ah," you start as you take him in, "afternoon. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."
He looks bleary eyed, half awake, as he stands in the doorway looking at you. His sleep shorts are slung low across his hips, creased and wrinkled from where he had been lying in them, the ties undone, hanging loosely. No shirt in sight. And despite knowing he's watching you, rubbing one eye as he tries to wake up, you can't help but stare.
He's nothing short of perfect. Everything about him. From the ungodly shaped muscles to the hint of stubble that peppers along his jaw line, and even the line across his cheek where his pillow had dug into the skin. It's all just so flawless, and you know you are making this awkward as you continue to stare, and the smirk he gives you tells you he's well aware. And enjoying being ogled.
Goddamn it.
"Did you need something?" He asks, fighting back a yawn, "or did you just come to observe?"
"Yes," you state before huffing and holding up your notebook a bit lamely, as if to hide behind it, "I mean, I have questions, from the research. Riley said last night that you would be here."
"Mmm," he answers before stepping back to allow you entry. "Come in," he offers.
"I mean, I can meet you in the den or the library. Let you wake up and get...dressed," you offer, feeling yourself growing meek. Alone. In his room. While he's half dressed.
"I've got everything here," he gestures behind him, "I must have dozed off while I was working," he looks at you pointedly, quietly telling you to come in.
You do.
You can keep it professional. Purely learning. There was nothing wrong with being in his room with him. By yourself. Nothing at all. You were both adults.
When he shuts the door behind you, you glance back at it before quickly crossing the room, looking for somewhere to sit. His desk, which had been so neat the last time you had seen it, was covered in papers, and boxes sit in the desk chair and on the floor. His bed is also covered in loose paper and folders, a small area carved out where he had been lying, a half opened, discarded laptop on one of his pillows.
"I'll just sit," you make a beeline for the papasan chair, a sage green overstuffed thing much like his bed, grabbing it to pull it out of the corner. "Here," you finish as you sit a bit too hard and are swallowed by the cushions.
"Never use that chair anyway," he replies as he sits on his bed, elbows on his knees, as he watches you. There is amusement behind his eyes at how you are trying to seem like you have it together while you fight to even sit up straight in the stupid chair. He doesn't let you suffer too long.
"So you got through everything?" He asks as you huff, giving up trying to sit properly, and instead sit cross legged in the center of it.
"I think so," you reply, opening your notebook in your lap and uncapping the pen you had hooked on the spirals. "I need another month to absorb it all truly. But I've got the gist of it."
"Took me a few years, so a month would be impressive," he replies. "What do you think?"
You hesitate, unsure what you want to say. Because you honestly fluctuate between what to think. Anger, of course. But sadness is a strong factor. Confusion. More questions.
"Once it gets out, it's going to change everything," you finally decide on, and he laughs quietly. "What?"
"You aren't wrong," he replies, "but that wasn't the answer I was expecting."
"Oh, there's plenty of other things I think about it," you answer. "How many people's lives were ruined. How many shifters were cast out. Matches made for convenience and not properly mated. And of course, the oppression of women for an Alpha ego."
"There you go," Garrick says, giving you a genuine smile.
"I guess," you shrug, looking at your paper before looking back up at him. "I want to start with how did you figure it out? How did you get your hands on the books? The history?"
"Alpha ego," Garrick echoes, making you raise an eyebrow. "Alphas love their Betas to be their whipping boys, assume they are loyal to a fault because how could a lowly Beta not be? They don't think they would ever be betrayed. And my family wasn't one to let things slide."
"Your family saved the history?" You ask, smoothing your hands on the paper.
"My family, other families. Ones that saw through the bullshit. Ones who had Alphas born into their lines that were shunted away. Sent to fight in wars in the hopes they'd be killed. Some disappeared mysteriously. Others were forced into matches with lower Omegas, even humans, to dilute or kill off the line," Garrick explains. "My family lost many young lads one way or another in the beginning. It was all word of mouth history, passed down quietly through families that refused to fall in line."
He sits back for a second, twisting where he's sitting to sift through some papers on his bed before pulling out a clipped together stack. He turns back to face you, leaning forward across the gap to hand it to you.
"Turns out one of my great, I don't know how many great, grandfathers was a record keeper, like his father and his father before him. He knew the history like the back of his hand. But when he finally came of age and realized that books had been altered, he worked to preserve the information."
He watches you quietly as you flip back through the pages, tracing the Garrick family line, how the name changed multiple times, branches of the tree dying off quicker than expected, the number of Alphas dwindling until it was only Betas and Omegas.
"He couldn't tell anyone, it was a dangerous time, but he kept a diary for years. Bit of a headache to read in the old language. I finally translated most of it."
"You translated a diary in the old language?" You ask, not hiding that you're impressed. "I can barely get through a few pages."
"Like I said, headache," Garrick answers as he produces an old leatherbound book from underneath another pile. "But he noted everything. Meticulously. All the lines that had disappeared. The books that had been altered. Everything. Before he died, which I still don't think was natural," he pauses, "he had smuggled out the copy of Cyne-Cyn that you have today."
"Your great to...whatever power grandfather was the one that got it out?" You ask, a bit shocked.
"He prevented it from being burned, even if it was a lie. He knew the real history was hidden underneath," Garrick explains. "He burned another book in its place, but then he died less than six months later. No real reason given. But it seems like he suspected something was coming because the book was hidden. No one knew where it was, not even his wife or children, for a few centuries."
"How was it found again?"
"Code in the diary," Garrick says, obviously proud of this man that he had never met. "Someone cracked it. But they kept it hidden, knowing that the time wasn't right to expose it."
"Until you?" You ask, shifting a bit in your seat.
"Until me," he agrees. "When I was born, my mother knew I was different, somehow. I've got a few older siblings, and she just felt something was off," he shrugs. "She also knew the stories passed down the line. But she was afraid to say anything, even to my father, until I was older. They didn't bother with blood testing me as a baby like most do, since all the boys were Betas in our line. Worked in my favor, I guess."
You can't help but feel a little heartbreak at that. Something that could be so vital, could be history changing, but you couldn't even tell your spouse because you weren't sure how they'd react. You understood, but it was still a stab to the chest.
"But it was obvious by the time I was seven that I wasn't a Beta. I was bigger, faster, territorial," he laughs as if remembering something he did. "My mother got me secretly tested with a trusted doctor. They didn't believe what they saw and had me come back to do it again. Then they sent it off to other trusted doctors. I was the strongest Alpha in generations," he says quietly, "and I wasn't the only one."
"Riley and Price?" You ask. You knew they were a few years older than Garrick and MacTavish, so they would have already been in the system, especially if they were tested as babies.
"And MacTavish," Garrick confirms. "He's the youngest, but he was tested as an infant since his line had Alphas," he explains.
"We kept it quiet, my mother told me before I shifted, but we still did our best to keep it hushed. It wasn't impossible for an Alpha to be born to a Beta, but it was rare enough to draw attention, and she knew what happened to Alphas that were threats...and I would be a threat."
"I'm glad you were safe, that your family had the foresight to keep it under wraps," you reply. And it wasn't just because he was your mate, the word still foreign to even think about, but because you couldn't imagine what would have happened to him. What accident could have befell him. His family.
Garrick grins at you, picking up on your genuine thankfulness that he was kept safe, before he continues.
"It got to the point where we couldn't hide it, but I was powerful enough to hold my own. And that is when my family told me the rest of the hidden history and finally pulled the book from its hiding place. I was strong enough to protect it, so it was time to start figuring it out."
"When did you meet up with the rest of them...the 141?" You ask a question that has been burning in you for a while.
"I met Price first," he explains, "all of us ended up in the military for one reason or another. They can tell you their stories. Mine was to keep me safe, train, and hopefully find the other three. It was safer to do it organically, powerful families don't like threats. Price saved me during an op, and he pulled me into his fold. He already had Riley and MacTavish, I was the last one added."
"And you just...fit together like that?"
"Not that easily," Garrick chuckles, "but we figured it out. Price kept us in line, let Riley push me and MacTavish around a bit to get his own frustrations out while teaching us. It worked out in the end."
"When did you start hunting for the Omega line?"
"After some failed matings," Garrick explains. "The first ones were brushed off. It happens naturally, some just don't fit together. When we ventured into the contract market to find stronger Omegas, and those failed too, we started questioning things. I knew about the Omega line, had told them, but we hadn't pursued it yet. I guess the gást-cyning was tired of waiting, so they made us put in the work."
"How many?" You dare to ask. "How many failed?"
"Do you really want that answer?" Garrick asks, cocking his head to the side. It was a honest question, and you can tell he'll give you the answer if you truly want it.
"Yes," you hesitate, "no." Maybe another time, but you aren't sure your heart, or hormones, could take the number right now.
"It doesn't matter," Garrick answers softly, "not anymore. They were doomed from the start. We never felt the connection," he pauses, "well, not all of us did anyway."
You know there is something in the off there, but you don't push it.
"We found you about two years ago," Garrick confesses, which makes you sit up straighter. "I was digging into Unables, trying to trace lines back. Your name came up in the search, which wasn't easy. Your family did a great job at burying you," he explains as he gets up and fishes around on his desk for another pile of paper. "Then, trying to get to your blood markers was a whole other mess. Lots of money, threats, and secrets exchanged hands."
"Two years." You state aloud as he gives you another stack of paper. You take it and stare at your name on the page, and a small cut out picture of your driver's license, of all things. "Why did it take you so long?" Two years of misery you could have been spared.
"I found you two years ago," Garrick emphasizes, "but I didn't figure out your lineage until about six months ago. You weren't the only one we were looking into, and those things take time. "There were…other complications too,” Garrick says carefully. “I’ll explain those another time."
Again, you catch the way his eyes shift to the side, avoiding the topic as he hides something. He had been so open about everything, but the subject of other Omegas seems to put him on edge. As if he isn't sure he should tell you. Or maybe it wasn't his to tell.
"It's all there," he points to the stack of paper in your hands. "Your lineage, your relatives. Your Omega line actually comes from your father's side."
"He'll love that," you scoff as you read over basics about yourself.
They had created a whole file on you. Everything from your date of birth, employment, and the degree you were pursuing to your suspected favorite color and shoe size. They were all right. They had profiled you and followed you for weeks, months, based on some of the pictures and notes.
You dart your eyes up to see Garrick has busied himself with his files back at his desk, shifting a few boxes around so he can sit. He's letting you look at your history with some privacy. But if you were to take a bet, you knew he already memorized everything in the pages. You can see where the corners are worn from being flipped back and forth so many times. Scribbles of notes in his handwriting and a few others, perhaps Price or Riley. Maybe MacTavish, but you somehow doubted it.
"How many profiles did you have before you settled on me?" You ask, unconsciously placing your hand over the spot that reads 'Partner History' and the corresponding note, which is just a question mark. If that wasn't your life summed up, you didn't know what was.
"Again," Garrick asks as he looks over his shoulder at you, "do you really want to know?"
"Yes," you say, and this time you mean it. A profile didn't mean anything. "Did you approach any of them...bring them here?"
"Seven," he says evenly, tapping his own pen lightly on the desk. "You are the first one we brought here. We cautiously met three in person, but nothing clicked into place. When we made the arrangement with Edith, we were certain it was you already," he says, "I knew it was you when we got out of the car. Your scent pulled me, and by the look on Price's face, I knew he felt it as well."
"Why make the arrangement with Edith then?" You dare to push. It seemed silly to want to enter a contract with her when they were so confident it was you.
"How else were we going to get to you?" He asks and waits for you to answer, a soft challenge.
He wasn't wrong. Despite being the family shame, you were closely guarded out of fear that people would figure out who you were. You barely left the house, and when you did, it was with staff or your family. Your social life was zero, and you were so busy trying to just finish school and get away that you'd never dare to try to get out.
"But a contract?" You push again.
"Time was running out for you. You could potentially find a mate up until your thirties, but the longer we waited, the riskier it was, and we were also drawing attention to ourselves for not matching up and producing heirs." Garrick replies, "so we took the risk. We'd rather see if it was you, and if it was, we'd work out the rest of it. If it wasn't you, we would've continued as we were. When the mating failed, as we know it would, we'd dissolve the contract and move on."
"Have you figured out how to work out the rest of it then? I know my father's contracts are...tight."
"That's what I was doing when I fell asleep," Garrick answers, gesturing vaguely around the room at all the papers. "Been doing for weeks. We can't exactly call in outside help since this is a secret, so it's taking time. And when your siblings showed up, it...really pushed the timeline."
"Can I see it?" You ask, extending a hand out.
You had seen your father's contracts. Had seen the one he had drafted up for you when you were supposed to be married off. Read the ones he drafted for when Thorne married. When you were old enough, you also saw the other Omegas for your father and even helped him with the legal writings to silence one of Osric and Oswyn's playthings. It seemed he had been prepping you to perhaps follow in his footsteps in the legal world. You had always been smart, and once you carried out your duty to produce children, you needed to have other things to occupy your time. Of course, he never intended for you to hold power yourself, but you could still assist someone who did.
And now that was going to bite him in the ass.
"The addendums involving you are the last few pages," Garrick says as he hands it over. "They aren't kind."
"Nothing about my father is kind," you answer flatly.
Leaning over to the side, you drop the stack of paper that is your profile and the Garrick family line to the floor before staring at the contract in your lap. It's something you've seen hundreds of times, yet seeing it when you know it pertains to you, and not in a good way, makes your insides clench a bit.
You sit quietly, reading through everything line by line. You don't take notes at first, you just want to read it to take it all in. See what sticks out to you, see if anything catches your eye right out the gate. It's all standard items. No heir produced outside the contracted Omega shall have inherited rights. No other Omega can be pursued, contracted, claimed, bound, or acknowledged by the Receiving Pack. Any ambiguity regarding Omegas affiliated with the 141 shall default to interpretation by the Granting House. The Receiving pack will ensure the Omega maintains a suitable public standing and be cared for. In turn, the Omega shall conduct herself in accordance.
Boring legal shit that basically boiled down to Edith being an item from your family, the Granting House, and if the 141, the Receving Pack, wanted to keep her, they had to keep your family happy. If they weren't happy, there were hefty consequences of the monetary and political kind. Everything is in their favor. You couldn't really see why the 141 would sign this so willingly, nothing was really in it for them. The risk was enormous just to see if you were the one they were looking for. Were you worth all that?
"It's all the usual stuff," you say quietly after many minutes in silence, taking a second to breathe before you get to the addendum that involves you.
"So far, our only out that I can see is failure to produce an heir within a reasonable time, as decided by your family's medical doctor. That has been our out on every single contract," Garrick answers as he looks up from what he had been working on. "But it means we would have to attempt a mating."
"Right," you answer a bit clipped, shifting a bit, unable to hide your irritation at that thought.
"And we already know the mating would fail,” he continues, eyes locked on you. “So we aren’t going to bother."
You know he's right, yet hearing him say it out loud that they wouldn't even try to be with Edith eases some of the tightness in your chest.
"None of you?" You prod, hoping you don't sound too invested in his answer.
"Riley thinks she's pretentious," Garrick answers with a laugh. "And I have no interest in her when I have a mate," he pauses, watching you carefully, as if he knew the risk of throwing that word around so easily could send you running. "Price doesn't like being told what he has to do and MacTavish," he trails off. "He's got other things he needs to deal with."
"She is pretentious," you agree under your breath, doing your best to slow down the ratcheting of your heart after hearing Garrick call you his mate. "But this contract is airtight, least at first glance," you mumble. "Maybe the addendum will have something. You rushed him and sprung it on him last minute, the two things he hates."
"I couldn't find much, but be my guest," Garrick says as he stands up and stretches, his chest popping as he raises his arms above his head. "I do have a meeting to get to in," he flips his wrist to check the very large, and expensive, watch on his wrist, "ten minutes ago."
"You should have gone," you answer, quickly bending down to gather up your belongings. "I can read this and let you know what I find."
"Feel free to stay here if you want," he offers as you grab up your notebook and the other discarded piles of paper. "You'll have plenty of time to sit and read."
"Oh, no, it's okay," you reply, and you swear you see a flash of disappointment in his face. "I'd like to do some research on my laptop for some contract things. I won't look up exact details to avoid the risk of setting off any search alerts," you amend, "if Riley will give me access."
"I'll send him a message," Garrick replies as he digs out his phone, tapping out a quick text. "Should be unlocked here shortly. Just don't go sending out an SOS, yeah?"
"Fine," you say with a sigh, "What if I make it subtle? Tiny cry for help hidden in a comment section?"
"As long as Riley doesn't see it, I don't see the harm," Garrick replies with a laugh.
As you walk to the door, Garrick opens it for you, following you out as he drags a shirt over his head. He escorts you to your room, pausing for just a moment as you awkwardly step inside and look at him with your hands full. You know there is something there, something unsaid and undone, but you don't cross that line. Not yet. You can't yet. You still have things to figure out before you let your heart, or instinct, take over, and this damn contract was one of them.
"Feel free to drop by later, or tomorrow. I'll be around," Garrick says into the silence.
"Sure," you reply, trying to not sound as awkward as you feel. "You can do the same," you offer after a second, and the smile he gives you makes you smile back.
After you shut the door, you turn to face your room and realize it suddenly feels flat. You didn't notice how sterile and lonely it was, no matter how much artwork, books, and knickknacks you have around the room. Garrick's room was comforting, warm, like a soft blanket enveloping you. And you know it's more than just the chair you had sat in. It was him. Being around him. Talking with him. His scent mixing with yours and sinking into your bones.
"Damnit," you mutter to yourself as you flop onto your bed and scatter the papers around you, dragging your laptop out from under one of your pillows.
You need a distraction, one that will chase away the empty feeling and instead fill it with anger and determination. What better way than to read your father's words about you, see how he cuts into you and discards you.
“Let’s see what you have to say for yourself, Alaric,” you mutter as you flip to the addendum and start to read.
You find nothing of note. Nothing that can help you. Just venomous words that lay bare all your father's feelings he had about you. How you were worthless, or how he liked to phrase it, "nonviable". That you were just a dependent that would need to be cared for, and there was no giving you back once the pack realized you were a burden. Hell, there is even something in there that upon your death, they weren't responsible for burial services. They probably didn't even want to know.
You toss it aside after reading it a few times, messy notes jotted in the margins and your notebook. Your brain is mush after all the reading and research you've done these past days, so you take a break. Curling up in your bed to watch shitty television and taking your meal in your room. You tell yourself you don't go downstairs to eat because you're too tired, but you know deep down you're afraid that if you leave the room and Garrick came back, you wouldn't be there.
The next few days settle into an odd sort of routine. You wake up and force yourself through breakfast, and even spare some time for your schoolwork, then end up wandering down the hall toward Garrick's room. Callum checks in now and again, offering to help you cart the boxes you've started to accumulate when he catches you trying to balance two with your laptop on top.
"If my door's unlocked, just come in," Garrick says absently on the fifth day after he calls for you to enter.
"I don't want to intrude," you venture as Callum sidesteps you and moves to set the boxes by your chair.
The chair, the chair. It wasn't yours, it's Garrick's. Even if you had invaded it, leaving your laptop charger, an extra blanket because his room felt colder when it stormed due to the large windows, and a stuffy you used as a laptop table.
"You're here every day at the same time," Garrick replies with a grin as Callum plugs in your laptop for you. "If I don't want you to come in, I'll lock it."
Most of the work goes nowhere, even after hours and hours of looking and researching.
Your father had written the contract like the paranoid tyrant he was, afraid of the people he ruled over coming back to overthrow him. Every clause circles back on itself, every loophole you thought you had found is closed somewhere else in the contract. Even Garrick, who has remained calm and steadfast compared to your frustrated explosions, grows irritated when every solution he thinks he's found doesn't pan out.
"You look miserable," you comment as you wander in one stormy evening.
He had been out that day, and you had waited none too patiently in the library for him to come back. You had to restrain yourself from running to his room, giving him some time to get in and settle, perhaps get something to eat.
"I am miserable," Garrick mutters as he digs out a cigarette and goes to the window, propping it open. "You father is a bastard, the twins are exhausting, and Edith won't leave me alone," he mumbles, gesturing to his phone as he flicks his lighter and takes a deep inhale of smoke.
"None of that is new," you reply as your eyes catch his phone lighting up again, Edith's name flashing across the screen. The sight of it makes you clench your teeth, but you don't say anything. You know he has to play the game to keep her and your family happy while you try, seemingly in vain, to figure out what to do. "Is that where you were today?" You ask cautiously. Not out of fear of his anger, but your own.
"Yes," he answers, looking over at you. He's freshly showered, and you realize he had done that to get rid of her scent. "She hasn't had a heat, so they aren't pestering too hard, but need to keep up appearances," he mumbles, waiving his free hand vaguely.
You leave him to his smoke, settling into the chair to pick up where you had left off yesterday.
"I can turn my phone off if it's annoying you," Garrick says after a bit when it vibrates again.
"Who says I'm annoyed?" You ask, hand shifting to cover the hole you had scratched in the paper when you were crossing out a note when the phone had vibrated again.
"No one," he smirks as he picks up his phone to answer the text.
"I just think it's ridiculous that she keeps texting you every five seconds. What does she even have to say?" You state, huffing a bit as he continues to look at his phone to type out his answer.
"She says a lot of things, few pictures too," Garrick replies as he locks the phone and sets it down again. "None that really matter."
"Pictures?" You nearly splutter, sitting up straighter to glare at him, which makes him finally laugh.
"That where you draw the line?" He asks as you narrow your eyes.
"I mean, if you want pictures of her, then by all means," you mumble, dropping your gaze to hide your annoyance.
"None of us do," Garrick says. "Just what we have to put up with while you and I figure this out."
The quiet settles back in after that. Garrick doesn't pick up his phone again, even after it vibrates a few more times. You know, leaving Edith on read will drive her up the wall, and that gives you a small satisfaction, even though the irritation of the fact that she's even talking to Garrick, to any of them, makes your skin crawl.
Time ticks on. Hilde brings up dinner as you both work, and Garrick turns on some music after a bit, something slow and soft to counteract the storm outside. After a bit, you realize the lines on the paper are doubling, and exhaustion is creeping up on you. It's well past midnight, almost two in the morning, as you rub your burning eyes and stretch out your neck.
Garrick notices almost immediately.
"You should get some sleep," he says softly.
"So should you," you mumble as you lean back in the chair with your eyes closed.
You don't even realize when you drift off. It's easy to do there in the comfort of Garrick's room, his scent all around you, the quiet music, the patter of rain on the window. It isn't until something warm settles over your chest that you jerk awake. Disoriented, you blink through the haze of sleep to find Garrick standing close, and neither of you moves for a second.
"You were shivering," he says, as if to defend himself for what he had done, which was just throwing his duvet over you. "I opened the window for a smoke," he gestures.
"It's," you yawn into the back of your hand, "it's fine. Sorry for falling asleep."
"I think I dozed for a bit myself," he offers, eyes darting to the clock. It's almost three in the morning. How long had you slept for?
"I can go," you state, shifting a bit to wriggle yourself out of the chair and blankets, even though you feel heavy with sleep. "Let you get some sleep."
"S'fine," he says as he catches some papers that you knock off the chair to the floor. You take them back from him automatically, glancing down to reorder them and set them in your many piles around the chair when something catches your eye.
You sit up too quickly, blanket sliding to the floor to make a mess of your organized chaos. You read your own note again, following the arrow you had made to the part in the addendum. Your pulse spikes hard enough to hurt, chasing away any sleep in your brain as your eyes snap up to Garrick.
"What?" He asks, straightening his posture immediately, pocketing his pack of smokes as he leans over to hold the paper, his hand closing over yours to twist it so he can see better.
"What is it?" He asks again, clearly confused about what you see that he doesn't.
But you barely hear him. For the first time since reading the contract, all those hours of poring over laws, noting potential outs, and talking yourself in circles, something clicks into place. And the best part is, your father did it all himself.
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It's no secret that I love Kyle. I was really excited to make this a Kyle centered chapter. We get to learn more about his family, what he is like, how damn smart he is, and also a glimpse into what he is feeling. Little subtle hints about his desires and wants from reader without pushing it. And some intimate and almost domestic life between you and him. Gah, I love him so much.
I did a bunch of contract research for this, you don’t even want to know all the googling I did, samples I read, and even a mock contract I drafted to have something to refer to. Also, this is my longest chapter yet in this story, almost doubling my average length. Take it as an apology for taking so long, life got a little chaotic on top of getting sick for almost two weeks💙
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Old English Words:
Cyne-Cyn - royal lineage, royal offspring
Gást-Cyning - spirit king, God
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Tag List: @ironicadventures, @hypertail, @boldlyherdream, @listen-to-navi, @eyeswidecovered, @hhaurashaa, @salsafrattale, @lilynotdilly, @feedthefandoms995, @idkhhhhi, @fangirls94, @myeyesonlyfouryou, @jiminie-08, @kiyomisan, @apodyopsisphilia, @pickles-the-jackalope, @kiyomisan
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Please have your age in your bio, or you won't be added.
You know how people commit to the bit? I commit to the story.
I have been reading samples of marriage contracts. Selling contracts. Purchasing contracts. Breach of contracts. Transferring contracts. Contract obligations. Nullification of contracts. Dissolution of contracts. Contract loopholes. Googling legalize when I have no idea what it means.
I have some background in legal contracts from my job, but definitely not at this level. It's fun, I do enjoy learning, but it's certainly a lot, and I am sure if anyone looked at my search history, they'd be concerned.
Good news is I have figured out how the contract is going to really work, besides the vague mention of the 'marriage contract' in Sáwel-Dreór. We are going to have some actual legal things in there AND a very satisfying way out of it.
