#comfy cartel
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MISS RAE? MISS VALKYRAE? MISS VALKYRAE FROM COMFY CARTEL COMIC? MISS VAL
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I've been thinking of a boatem Mafia au and so far this is what I got in m head
-Mumbo as the leader(or the don) because grian insisted that he should due to him wearing a suit
-Pearl being the clean lady that she is cleans up messes (aka cleaning rats and no evidence left behind kind of clean up)
-I wanted to add Gem cause of soup group and she helps out Pearl with cleanup (she's been called GeminiSlay due to cleaning up a lot of bodies if ya know what I mean) lol
Titles for the boatem crew
- Scar head of marketing
-Impulse head of technology or weaponries
-Grian head of gathering intel
- Pearl head of Clean up
I'm not sure about this titling but eh
#I'm not very good with the mafia thing#most of my ideas we're inspired by otv comfy cartel#boatem#mumbo jumbo#mumbo#grian#goodtimewithscar#gtws#impulsesv#pearlescentmoon
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and I’ll hold you, so let go, dearest
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[AO3]
Sometimes, Brodin thought that Sykkuno must have been the cruelest of them all. Sometimes, he thought that he would like to chase that delicate smile on his lips, wipe the smear of blood on his cheeks as if erasing a sin. That was not true, however; it wasn’t a sin. To Sykkuno, the blood of another was a proof of his existence. [Brodin/Sykkuno; a musing from a throne to his god; published 2021-07-28; word count: 2,786]
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Brodin was observant. As a consigliere, he had to be. Everything that happened inside and outside of the Cartel, he had to be aware of them. He played his cards right, and advised his king so the king could command the generals of this never-ending war. He thought, sometimes it felt like playing God—or as the angel, he supposed. A messenger for the prophets in a dark world.
Sykkuno had told him that, a polite smile in place, blood on his long fingers. Brodin looked at him and he didn’t shy away. Sykkuno knew better than to hide who he was from Brodin’s seeing eyes—eye, heh. It didn’t bother him anymore, losing an eye. A hindrance that made him realize just how much people had been blind to when they didn’t lack anything, when they hadn’t lost something. Sykkuno had lost nearly everything but who he was.
A boy from a loving family, gone in a night because of some people’s greed. He had been eight years old; small, frail, and happy. The man who stood in front of him was still the same—slender, fragile, and happy with what he had left. Though other people might not think the same: after all, the only thing left in Sykkuno was a terrifying calmness that he used as a lethal weapon in his life. Brodin thought, sometimes the man still had some compassion, a delicate empathy that trickled out of his cold heart. He thought, it made Sykkuno all the more dangerous because of it.
“Maybe you should be an enforcer rather than a handler,” he said one day. The night was cold, the coat draped on his arm would offer no warmth even if he put it on. He knew that it was the coldness in his soul, rather than his body.
Sykkuno looked up from the cactus that he had been contemplating on for the last few seconds as he washed his hands. The dead body at his feet staring at nothing. He laughed. “Is this your way of saying that I’m demoted?”
“I would like to,” he admitted. “You waste your talents in that position.”
Sykkuno walked up to him. He was taller than most people, but in front of Brodin, the man only came up to his chest. It made something twist in his gut. He kept it safely inside the cradle of his lungs, and reached out to wipe splatters of blood on Sykkuno’s neck, smiling lightly when he leaned into the touch. A boy who lost everything at a tender age, a man who dispensed and accepted touches like it pained him to do so, like he would do nothing but chase them to the end of Valhalla. Sykkuno was a walking contradiction that somehow remained as an open enigma.
“I like being a handler, though,” he told Brodin, taking the coat from his arm. Brodin let him. “I have a lot of free time to tend to my garden. My plants, they bloomed beautifully this year too.”
He said nothing when Sykkuno draped the coat on his shoulders, standing slightly on his tip-toes. He smoothed out the invisible wrinkles on Brodin’s lapels, kept his hands there after he was done. Brodin tilted his head, considering.
“Maybe someday, then,” he said, knew he wouldn’t. Someday didn’t exist for the damned; for them.
Sykkuno leaned closer, breathing in the cologne that Brodin had put on every single day. “There is no someday where I would be a sword for the kingdom. There is a someday where I would be the king, however.”
It was something outrageous, and it could get him killed in a heartbeat. But Brodin believed him, so he put his hands on Sykkuno’s hips, and let him lean his head on his chest. He was a consigliere, he advised the king so the king could command the generals. But people often forgot that the throne wasn’t discriminating of who would be sitting on it. If Scarra was the king, then Brodin would go to be by his side.
If Sykkuno was the king, then Brodin would let him smile and lay his head on his chest.
(And maybe, someday wouldn’t exist as strongly as this moment—where Brodin was the angel, and Sykkuno was the God of the dark world.)
-
There were three people in this whole world that kept a splinter of Sykkuno’s heart.
Rae kept it in the inferno of her wrath; Corpse kept it in the embrace of his heart; Toast kept it so deep in the maze of his soul that no one would be able to find it anymore, not even Sykkuno himself. Brodin did find it, however. He felt like Odin, sometimes. Allfather, all seeing, no longer blind to his perils when life took an eye and lifted the layer of illusion so he could see. Truthfully, completely, wholeheartedly. It came with a burden, but Brodin had gotten used to it over the time.
He watched as Sykkuno let himself be seen, be vulnerable when Rae showed up at the Cartel. He stood back and said nothing when Sykkuno, beautiful and lax in Corpse’s arms, wiped the blood off of the enforcer’s face. He sat and listened to Scarra as Sykkuno’s eyes never strayed from Toast in their meetings. He was well aware that Sykkuno had never thought of Scarra as the Don; he thought that Scarra was just conveniently their boss, that was all. He was a free agent, but he adored Toast the way God created Lucifer as the most favored angel. On some days, Brodin couldn’t tell which one of them was the God, and which was the morning star.
“Toast will never betray Scarra, you’re aware of that, aren’t you?” he said as he lay down on the dark green couch. Sykkuno had put it right inside his greenhouse, for the time he wanted to have some tea with his plants. The lower part was dirty with soil and leaves, but the top part was clean and comfortable. It suited Sykkuno.
“I am,” Sykkuno hummed, carefully cutting off a stem. “But he doesn’t need to do that. I can dispose of Scarra just fine on my own.”
“You’re the morning star then,” Brodin said a while later.
Sykkuno laughed, eyes crinkling so prettily that Brodin understood why he was the one Toast favored the most. It was hard not to feel the desire to keep someone like Sykkuno right by their side, untouched by anything but themselves. A few times in a year, he wondered if he would feel the same thing.
“Do you believe that Toast is my God?” Sykkuno asked, sitting on the space left next to Brodin’s hips.
He didn’t. They were wrapped so tightly around each other that it was hard to see where one began and the other ended. Two beings that were so intensely close, yet so far away from each other. They were a pair of the ever consuming, destructive black holes, he decided. “No. But I do believe that you can be a God,” he said.
“No,” Sykkuno whispered, slipping in to lay his head on Brodin’s chest. “I already am, to you.”
Brodin wrapped an arm around him, and didn’t say anything. There was no need for an echo of confirmation, when the truth had seeped into the chambers of his heart.
-
Corpse was a formidable enforcer. There was a reason why he was offered a place between them in a short amount of time. But he was also young still. It didn’t matter how familiar he was with this harsh, cruel world, there was always a sliver of surprise that was quickly concealed in his eyes. Corpse was used to death, but he wasn’t completely settled yet into the yawning chasm of insanity.
Sykkuno patted the man’s arm as Brodin explained the plan to the whole room. It was something extravagant, something flashy, in order to set an example, to punish. He required them to be charming and lethal, but forgiving enough to prolong the torture. It was a hard task for someone like Corpse, whom had been spoiled too much by Sykkuno, to the point that he would only stop if Sykkuno said something.
“Get some rest, Corpse,” Sykkuno told him gently. “You need to be fresh and awake tomorrow night.”
If Corpse was a dog, he would wag his tail right now. Sykkuno was in no way a small man, not anymore. But in the arms of someone built to be a weapon like Corpse, he looked frail and delicate. Brodin thought that maybe Sykkuno liked it; the illusion of being someone worthy to be protected. He was really good at masquerading around as a kind, gentle soul when he wasn’t anything of those qualities to begin with.
When everyone had scattered, Sykkuno followed him. Brodin didn’t look back, and didn’t pretend he didn’t see the slight glance from Toast. He sat in his office, and waited for Sykkuno to close the door.
“You like the plan,” he deduced.
Sykkuno sat on his desk, pushing away documents and ashtray. Brodin circled his fingers around the man’s calf, pushing down the sock to touch bare skin. “I like the last part only,” he admitted.
He was honest, Brodin knew. Sykkuno wasn’t one for flashy display of cruelty. He preferred more discrete, efficient, and quick methods. Even in displaying his sins, he chose the gentleness of his greenhouse. It was the only truthful gentleness that he had, given to something that wouldn’t betray or hurt him. Not even his faux kindness for Corpse could ever come close.
“Of course you do,” he said, and put his arm around Sykkuno’s waist to steady him as the man sat on his lap.
There were five people who robbed Sykkuno’s house, all those years ago. He was only alive because he was small enough to hide, only coming out to witness the bodies strewn around the living room. He had never gotten the chance to spoil his baby sister. Maybe, it was the reason why he liked casting an illusion that he was this small, delicate flower. It was the only thing that kept him alive back then.
Out of the five people, two were dead, while the rest still roamed around the earth. It wasn’t because Sykkuno didn’t know about their existence. He had let them live; he visited them, calmly retold the story of their crime, and smiled when he told them to live their best life. They knew, that he would come for them someday. You could never outrun death, nor could you outlive it.
“Those three people,” Brodin continued as Sykkuno opened his belt with deft fingers. “You can kill them now. It has been long enough.”
“But you understand why I haven’t, yet,” Sykkuno said. He slipped his pants off, slid his cleft atop of Brodin’s cock. “It’s more fun when they’re desperate, no?”
He nodded, taking hold of the man’s hips to help him, to make the slide easier, to feel the friction closer than before. “Your Don has killed two out of the five,” he said. His breath was coming out harsher, quicker.
“It’s a gift for his loyalty,” Sykkuno told him, a hitch in his breath when the head of Brodin’s cock caught on his rim. The skin was wet from pre-cum, but it wouldn’t be enough. He didn’t mind; this was enough for now, and he knew Sykkuno would come back.
“He will round up the other three, and ask you to kill them,” Brodin said. Ask, always asked when it came to Sykkuno, never commanded. That was why he wasn’t fit to be a sword, as he was fit to be a king who wielded it.
“Then I’ll do it, when my Don asks me to,” he replied. Neither of them was referring to Scarra this whole time, and they both knew it.
“You won’t make it quick,” Brodin guessed, despite knowing the answer.
“No, I won’t,” Sykkuno smiled. “Toast knew better than to expect a quick execution from me. Not in this case.”
Sometimes, Brodin thought that Sykkuno must have been the cruelest of them all. It made him oddly beautiful, like the lighthouse shining ominously in the dark ocean.
There were no more words uttered as their movements quickened, the soft moans out of Sykkuno’s lips each time his cock slid against Brodin’s vest, the morbid thought that Brodin was slowly drowning. He was observant, of everything around him. Sykkuno was one of those things he had watched closely. He should have known that he would venture closer still to see him properly. Like a lost ship in the ocean, drawn to the lighthouse only to find dead bodies at the top.
He came, when Sykkuno lay his head on his chest, whispering, “I’ll let you watch, too. It will be a gift, for seeing me.”
It wasn’t a gift, he knew. It was a punishment, delivered in the way Sykkuno did the best; an allure to get closer, so the preys would beg for those fingers to kill them, anything to feel him closer to their soul. Brodin wouldn’t beg, but he might be willing to die by Sykkuno’s hands.
Sykkuno left a mess on his clothes, but Brodin didn’t really mind. He slipped his fingers between the strands of soft hair, caressing the ear and feeling the stud that Toast had given for Sykkuno. He said, “You can have them rob and kill their own family. A little reenactment to jog their memories.”
He felt Sykkuno reach out to caress the side of his face, thumb swiping on the eyepatch. “You’re so kind to me, Brodin. I’m glad I let you live.”
“Glad to know I’ve pleased my God,” he said, and didn’t ask for anything. The stutter in Sykkuno’s breath was a reward of its own.
He was condemning himself, he realized. And it would be different than the way Sykkuno had condemned Rae, Corpse, and Toast with what little left of his love. Brodin wouldn’t have a splinter of his heart; he would have nothing in return but his own freedom of stepping into the chasm. Sykkuno would lead him to his kingdom, however. Above everything, it should be enough.
-
“Where were you?” he asked, while they walked on the hall to the ballroom. Chaos was already running rampage inside. Without Sykkuno by his side, Brodin could only hope that Corpse remembered to hold himself back.
“Cleaning some trash,” Sykkuno answered, whistling cheerily. There was a tiny speck of blood near his jaw.
Brodin stopped, and pulled off his glove. He cradled Sykkuno’s face, then leaned down to lap his tongue on the smear. There were hands gripping the lapels of his suit jacket, the fabric wrinkled from how hard Sykkuno was clenching. When he was done, he said, “You got something on your face.”
Sykkuno’s eyes were wild, alight. But the curve of his smile was gentle and soft. His God was beautiful. Sometimes, he thought that he would like to chase that delicate smile on his lips, wipe another smear of blood on his cheeks as if erasing a sin. That was not true, however; it wasn’t a sin. To Sykkuno, the blood of another was a proof of his existence.
“How does it taste?” Sykkuno whispered, standing again on his tip-toes to mouth against his lips. They didn’t press closer, didn’t lean in to seal the curse.
He breathed in the scent of death and gunpowder, closed his eye and said, “Like rusty metal.”
“I know,” Sykkuno said, clenching the lapels one last time before taking a step back. “Shall we go inside?”
He opened the door, and waited until Sykkuno slipped past him to whisper, “After you, my God.”
A shiver wracked Sykkuno’s body. He let out a pleased sigh, and didn’t look back as he stepped into the chaos. Brodin stayed there. He was an observer, a consigliere, an angel of the dark world; he wouldn’t do anything but watch, advise, a messenger to spread the certainty of Sykkuno’s cruelty. After all, he was a God as much as he was a king. He would raze the battlefield with the sword made from the last remains of his heart.
And he would watch, would wait, until his God came back to the throne to smile and lay his head on Brodin’s chest.
(And maybe, someday would never come. For someday had become reality—where Toast was Sykkuno’s morning star, where Rae was the inferno of his hell, where Corpse was his sword made of blind devotion.
Where Brodin was a throne, and he would keep Sykkuno there for eternity.)
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Mi niña
Alejandro Vargas x Reader
Summary: its late at night, you can’t sleep, and a sudden knocking on your door interrupts your attempts to get some rest.
Warnings: wounds, blood, unprotected sex, p in v, oral (f! receiving), loss of virginity, creampie, age-gap.
A/N: i have never played the game, i just have a thing for military men heheh. Also, english is not my first language, so i apologize for any errors. Hope y’all enjoy this! <3
It’s almost midnight. Usually, you would be asleep already, dreaming about pretty animals and cute guys, but today is way different, you’re still awake, looking at the moonlight peeking through your window and a strange feeling lingering in your guts.
You try your best to not think much about it. Maybe is just your own anxiety acting up. So you move on your bed, over and over, closing your eyes and trying to find a comfy position to sleep. But no matter how hard you try, you just can’t get some rest.
It’s frustrating. You mind screams at you to fall asleep already, telling you that you need to get your energy back for another day of hard work around the farm. Come on, it’s your turn to feed the horses and cows at six in the morning, you can’t waste more time like this.
Suddenly, your own thoughts are interrupted by the loud noise of a vehicle pulling up in your property, right in front of your house, followed by the sound of the doors being opened and closed.
Of course, you knew your bad feeling was there for a reason, and now your heart is beating faster than ever. Who would be at your property at such late hour? The police? Robbers? Sicarios from a powerful cartel?. Who knows, but when a knock in you front door breaks the silence you feel as if you were about to faint.
You’re alone, there’s no one you can ask to go see who’s knocking, you can’t yell at one of your siblings to do it. Your family is away for the weekend, so you need to be brave and do it yourself.
You get out of bed and walk all the way to the front door, feeling your legs wobbly and you heart pounding in your chest, finally opening the door with your trembling hands.
Obviously you were expecting it to be some narcos, but, to your surprise, they’re not. Instead you have colonel Alejandro Vargas and his sergeant Rodolfo Parra right in front of you. Of course you know who they are, everyone in Las Almas knows them and admires them. And you would be lying if you said that you didn’t have a crush on Alejandro since you were a teenager, rubbing your clit every night to the thought of him for years.
And now you regret wearing that old shirt and shorts as pj’s instead of something sexier. But you shouldn’t be thinking about that, the only worry right now should be the reason for them to come knock on your door. You’re just a normal family who makes a living selling milk, you don’t have any issues with the law.
“Is there any problem?” You ask nervously, looking at the tall soldiers with their stoic expressions and powerful weapons on their hands.
"Ninguno, bonita. We’re just looking for someone, do you mind if we take a look around your property?.” Alejandro says, charismatic as ever. You could never say no to him, no matter what he asked.
“There’s nothing to see here, coronel, just cows and horses. But sure, go ahead and tell me if you need something.”
They both nod and get back to their job, going away to look around, seeing the empty corrals and the stalls full of sleeping animals, without a trace of the persone they’re looking for. And you stay near the door just in case, still very nervous and anxious even when there’s no reason to feel like that. Your trust them, they’re honorable men, they mean no harm, just let them do their thing and they’ll be gone soon.
A few minutes later, Alejandro comes into your house while Rudy keeps watch outside, checking every single room until he’s sure that you’re not hiding his target. Even though he already knew that you would never do something like that. He’s seen you around town too, always sweet and calm, doing your best to help your family with the little business, always trying to stay away from the violence.
That’s it. His work is done here. He needs to go look somewhere else, but, when he’s about to leave, you can’t help but notice that his right hand is almost fully red, dripping with warm sticky blood, making a mess on his uniform and gun.
“Coronel… you’re bleeding” you say, as if it wasn’t already obvious, and he stops dead in his tracks. How can he be so calm and collected with a wound like that?.
“It’s just a little cut, nothing to worry about” Alejandro shrugs it off. An hour before that’s what he thought, a little cut on his hand, nothing serious, he didn’t expected it to get bigger and become a bleeding mess.
“You should definitely worry about it. Come on, let me help you and then i’ll let you go”.
He can’t say no to you, specially when you’re looking at him with those innocent doe eyes. So he agrees, following you to your room and sitting on your bed, leaving his gun on the ground, waiting patiently while you run to your bathroom to gather all the necessary stuff to take care of it.
Once you come back, you take his hand on your own, cleaning his cut with a wet cloth, disinfecting with alcohol, putting some closure strips and wrapping all his palm with a bandage. You’re no doctor or nurse by any means, but you know how to help your animals when they’re hurt, which gives you at least a little bit of knowledge.
And Alejandro is more than happy to let you work on him. He doesn’t feel any pain, maybe for the adrenaline pumping through his veins, or maybe because he’s so mesmerized by your beauty that he can’t think of anything else.
“This should be enough for the night. The bleeding is going to stop, but you need to go to the doctor tomorrow, i guess you need some stitches” you say, smiling at him, feeling your cheeks burn. You had never been so close to him, and you can’t believe that you just got to help him without freaking out.
“Gracias” Alejandro murmurs, barely audible, looking down at his bandaged hand. “You’re too sweet. You shouldn’t be in this town, you deserve a better place”.
Any other person would have let him go away, leaving him alone to take care of his wound by himself, not wanting to get involved with such a troubled soldier. But you’re different. You’re kind and sweet and the most pretty girl he’s ever seen, so distinct from all the other shitty people in Las Almas.
“There’s no better place for me, i like it here” you answer. “I have my family and my animals… also, there’s no other place where i could find another handsome colonel”.
Alejandro doesn’t get it right away. Are you flirting with him? yes you are. But he’s never been good around women, so it takes him a while to understand what you mean, taking the hint only when you dare to place one of your hands on his thigh, something that he believed only could happen in his imagination, when he thought about you while fucking his fist late at night.
“No digas eso, bonita. I’m no good for you, go and find a nice guy your age” he says, even though he’s dying to kiss you, to feel your gentle touch again, to claim you as his.
“But i like you, Ale”.
“No quiero arruinarte”.
“You would never ruin me” you soothe him, moving your hand to his chest and leaning closer, staring directly at those beautiful brown eyes that you only used to dream about. “Por favor, i need you. Make me yours.”
That’s enough. Alejandro cups your cheek with his gloved hand and pulls you closer, his lips meeting yours, sweet and tender until it suddenly turns into passionate and lustful.
He tastes better than anything you ever had before, like fresh fruits in the summer, intoxicating all your senses. And before you know it you’re already straddling his lap, slowly moving your hips against his clothed bulge, trying to get some friction to relieve the boiling heat in your lower belly.
“I don’t have much time, bonita” Alejandro says, breaking the kiss, knowing that it’s just a matter of minutes to hear Rudy’s voice in his earpiece asking what’s taking him so long. “Take off your clothes for me, si?”.
You happily oblige, getting off his lap and stripping naked as fast as you can, all of your shyness long forgotten, wanting nothing more than to be a good girl for him.
“Qué pinche hermosa” Alejandro groans, admiring every single part of your exposed body, guiding you to the bed again, laying you on your back with your legs spread as he positioned between them, dropping to his knees to kiss your thighs and taste your soaking cunt. “Are you a virgin?”.
You squirm at the sensation of his tounge on your clit, and you have no idea how he managed to know that. Maybe your inexperience is way too obvious. “Si” you reply, tugging at his dark hair.
Alejandro swears that he could cum right there in his pants. Such a pretty girl? untouched? just for him to take? way too good to be true. He feels like he just won the fucking lottery. If he wasn’t in the middle of a mission, he would surely eat you out for hours until you can’t take no more.
But the clock is ticking right now, so he wastes no more time, undoing his pants just enough to free his hard length and then kiss all the way up from your tummy, your tits and finally your neck. “You sure about this?”.
“Si, Ale” you whimper. “I wanna be yours”.
He takes himself in his hand, positioning his hard cock to your wet cunt, the red tip prodding at the small entrance. “This might hurt a little bit, if you want me to stop just tell me, si?.”
You nod and Alejandro thrusts inside you, agonizingly slow, inch by inch, splitting you open until he’s buried to the base. The strange pain making you cry out his name and your eyes fill with tears.
“Fuck” Alejandro breathes out against your neck. “Such a good girl, taking me so well”.
He picks a steady pace, pounding your tight heat as if there was no tomorrow, going way faster than he would like to. But you don’t mind, you let him be as rough as he wants, whimpering as his thick cock abuses your walls, hitting your cervix with each thrust.
“Feels so good Ale” you moan. Now almost all of his weight on top of you, his gear digging into the soft skin of your breasts. The pleasure is too much, and you can already feel the orgasm forming in your belly. “M’ gonna cum”.
“Ah- Fuck” he grunts when your walls squeeze him harder, his gloved hand quickly making its way to your sensitive clit, rubbing it fast. “That’s it bonita, cum on my fucking cock, i wanna feel it.”
His words take you over the edge, squirming and moaning like a whore, your hole spasming around him and your nails scratching at the back of his vest, experiencing the most powerful orgasm of your life. And seeing you fall apart like that, just from his touch, makes him feel really close too.
“Where do you want my cum? huh?” he asks, chasing his high, thrusting harder into your poor sensitive cunt.
“Dentro, please ” you whine, too cockdrunk to think about the consequences.
“Si? you want that? you wanna carry my seed like a good little slut? Fuck- then i’ll fill you up until you’re dripping for days, and everyone will know who you belong to.”
His cock twitches and he comes undone, grunting like an animal, emptying himself inside your pretty pussy, filling your womb to the brim with his hot cum.
You both stay there for a moment, melted into each other, catching your breath. Looking at him with half lidded eyes, you caress his scruffy beard, so in love, hating that he needed to go away after such an intimate moment. And he hates that too, if it were for him, he would spend the night with you, praising your body and making you scream his name again and again.
You kiss one last time and Alejandro pulls out, getting out of bed, immediately fixing his pants and grabbing his gun, ready to leave.
“Will i ever see you again?” you ask. What if he was like those guys who only fuck you and then you never hear from them again?, just thinking about it makes you teary.
“Claro que si, mi niña” he answers, his gloved knuckles brushing against your cheek. “As soon as this hell of a mission is over i’ll come back to you. I promise.”
“Then i’ll be waiting” you whisper, but Alejandro hears it clearly. And once he has eased your fears, he gets back to work, going away as if nothing happened, walking through your home straight to the front door.
“Carajo Ale, por qué tardas tanto?” He hears Rudy’s voice in his earpiece, just like he anticipated.
But Alejandro doesn’t answer. He can only think about you. You got him under your spell and he’s already planning the next time, contemplating on coming back with a huge bouquet of flowers and a beautiful diamond ring to put on your finger.
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Hey Luci 👋
Can I ask for Alejandro Rudy and Valeria with extremely strong, Gn! Reader.
They saw reader picked up a car like it's nothing. How would their partner react?
a/n: hi!!! I am happy to write this. Oh also unrelated, to whichever lovely anon keeps requesting things, I promise I’ve seen it and it’s in my drafts
Alejandro:
-loves to dare you to pick up things to see how much you can pick up
-makes you carry him around after missions cuz it’s so comfy to be taken care of for once for him
-calls you whenever he has car issues so you can drag it back home
rudy:
-is SHOCKED. SHOKE. SCARED.
-asked you to put soldiers that have been rude under heavy things just so that they learn not to be jerks
-basically uses your scary dog privileges because he doesn’t have any of his own
valeria:
-needs something like a heavy cartel box lifted? She’s calling you. She doesn’t care if your working, she wants you to help :(
-loves having you just pick her up and hold her in the air
-loves loves loves cuddles with your strong arms wrapped around her
#requests open#cod mw2#cod fic#luci44_writing#cod headcanons#cod hcs#headcannons#valeria garza x reader#valeria mw2#valeria cod#valeria x reader#valeria garza#alejandro mw2#alejandro cod#alejandro x reader#alejandro vargas#rudy x you#rudy parra x male reader#rodolfo rudy parra#rudolfo parra#rudy x reader#rudy parra#rodolfo parra#x gn y/n#x gn reader#x gender neutral reader#Las Almas
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PAY ☆ ATTENTION
SIMON "GHOST" RILEY
x fem! reader
summary: dragging yourself through an alleyway, you didn't notice the gleam of a metal barrel behind you, or the other pair of eyes looking through a scope, trained on you. maybe if you paid attention, he wouldn't be here taking a bullet out of you.
note: he's taking over my entire tiktok fyp this fanfic is the least i could do. i haven't played the whole campaign and i've mostly watched my mom play, so sorry if there's any crazy mistakes (although this has nearly nothing to do with the actual mw2 campaign) this is gonna be short until i'm comfy enough writing for him. intentionally lowercase.
not proofread + i hate this
☆☆.
you stalked through a dark street, only the moon illuminating your way to the rendezvous point, a safehouse. you tightened your grip on the handle of your rifle, alert for any sounds of being followed.
you had a slight limp, due to someone catching sight of you running away from the scene of majority of his cartel lying dead on the floor. before you could manage to pull your trigger, he shot a bullet that skidded right past your leg, causing you to wince in pain.
the man who shot you fell to the floor, gun clattering to the floor. you scowled at the red starting to slowly spread through your pants and decided that it wasn't bad enough for you to have to treat it at the moment.
"i'll just fix that at the safehouse. i've wasted enough time," you sighed to yourself, turning back around and continuing on your way.
as you left the building, you scanned the area outside in case there were any more cartel members, looking deeply into the shadows that could easily deceive you and cost you your life. if the area wasn't clear, you would be easily identifiable on the way to the alley, almost nothing to cover you and nothing but cars on the street to prevent you from being shot again.
after verifying that the coast was clear, you ran to the alley that you decided was going to be the way you made it to the RV from, since it would be easy to blend in with the cover of the night and was the fastest way to the abandoned house.
of course, that was true. but it was also true for whoever else could possibly be in the narrow road with you.
you hissed occasionally, debating if you should make a makeshift bandage for your leg before continuing on.
"viper, how copy?" ghost's voice crackled, breaking you from your thoughts
"i'm alive," you responded, gripping onto your radio. "son of a bitch shot me in the leg though."
"you got him?"
"of course, Lt."
"atta girl."
a few moments of silence passed, the only sound being your soft footsteps echoing off the walls, and then, something else.
you turned around quickly, gun ready. your eyes shot left and right, waiting for something to come out of the darkness. with your luck, they wouldn't even come out of the black pit and simply just shoot you.
"viper, pay attention." it felt like you could hear him from above, and also from the radio. was he watching over you? you would ask him about that later.
"fucking christ ghost, what the fuck do you me-" you stopped when you saw a dull glimmer from the moonlight hitting something metallic.
before you could react, or even pinpoint where exactly the person was, two shots rang out.
you heard a thump, and felt a sharp pain in your arm.
"fuck!" you yelped, dropping your gun to grip onto your left arm, feeling blood seep through.
"you alright?" you knew that you didn't hear a hint of worry in his voice. you knew he would chastise you when you got back for your late reaction time on now two occasions and how you could've died. he just wants to know you aren't lying dead on the floor.
"yes, sir. i'll get through it. i'm guessing you got them?" your bloody hand made the radio all sticky, and you bit your lip as you ripped a piece of your pants off and wrapped it tightly around your arm.
he ignored your question, or maybe you took your hand off the radio trigger a bit too early. "we're close enough to the RV point, i'll take the bullet out there."
your gaze went up to the sky, squinting to see if ghost was there. after not even hearing a single noise, you continued on your way to the rendezvous, retrieving your gun from the floor.
☆☆.
"miss me, lieutenant?" you limped into the building, grinning.
he had his arms crossed, and you couldn't read the look in his eyes.
"still mad at me? i'm here, in the flesh," you set your gun down against the wall and stalked past him, looking for some bandages and tweezers.
"what was that back there?" he finally spoke in the silence. "if i wasn't there, or if he didn't have such shit aim, what do you think would've happened?"
"good thing you were there," you snapped. "now before you start scolding me like some fucking grandma with her panties in a twist, how about you help me take this cold ass bullet out of me?"
you heard him let out a growl as he came closer to you, and you nearly sunk into the floor with how he towered over you.
the two of you stared at each other, and you narrowed your eyes, standing your ground. if anyone looked at the scene from the outside, they would find the height difference laughable as you craned your neck up to see him. most times, you loved the height difference and would even build your fantasies around how he could easily pick you up, but in times like this you despised his massive build and height.
"alright, sit down," he gruffly said, his expression still unreadable. "don't think i'll forget about this shit you got yourself into."
you frowned and made your way to the chair he gestured towards, taking off your gear and lifting your sleeve up.
he unwrapped your makeshift bandage and examined the wound.
"don't fucking flinch," he brought a lantern closer to the two of you and took the tweezers from your hand.
you shivered at the contact, but ghost seemed to not notice or he paid no attention to it.
you let out a groan of pain as he began retrieving the bullet.
"holy fuck ghost, can't you make it hurt any less?" you said through your teeth.
"what, do you want me to kiss it better? fucking hell viper, did you think me taking the bullet out was going to be all happy and fun?" he kept his attention on the wound.
you shut your mouth, not knowing how to respond. your breath came out harder as you tried not to cry out.
"what if kissing it better will help?" the words left your mouth before you could stop yourself.
the tweezers paused where they were, and you saw his eyes meet yours for a second before going back to the work at hand.
"for fucks sake, shut your mouth," he shook his head, acting disinterested, and continued. through the pain, you started observing him and the way his muscles tensed and untensed, his focused gaze on getting that bullet out of you, and his mask.
"ever gonna take the mask off?" you questioned.
"weren't you there with soap? the mask doesn't come off." he replied, and you heard a little ding as the bullet fell out.
you let out a sigh of relief, and ghost pulled away, grabbing a needle and some thread. as he turned his back, your eyes quickly shot down and back up before he could realize your attention on certain parts of him.
"how's your leg?" he nodded his head towards the bloodied side of your pants.
"he grazed it a bit." you pulled your pant leg up, slightly whimpering as the rough material slid over the open wound.
"bloody hell viper, that's fucking deep," he sighed. "i'm going to have to stitch this up also."
you frowned. "you sure this needs stitches, Lt? maybe if you put a little band aid on, kissed it, and called it a day, it'll heal," you winked.
"how about you stitch up your own damn self then, twat? you talk to all your superiors like this?"
"nope. you jealous?" you smirked.
"it sounds like you want to stich yourself up and have first watch," he replied as he started stitching you up without warning.
"holy fuck, ghost! a little warning?"
"maybe you should pay more attention to you surroundings. still haven't caught on that you could've died today? twice, apparently." he skillfully closed the tear on your arm, and then moved on to your leg, lifting your thigh up and setting it on a little stool.
"well i sure fucking didn't, did i? i never die on y'all," you were starting to get annoyed of being reprimanded like a little kid.
a shock of pain shot through your leg, but you ignored it through your anger. all he's going to do is constantly talk about this. maybe he's even lost complete trust in you when it comes to being alert and undistracted.
you loved it when he talked to you, having a "little" crush on him for years now, ever since the first time you worked with him, but you knew ghost would never let his work life mix with his love life. but him being pissed off and annoyed with you never felt good.
you looked down again at ghost closing up your laceration. your ears were nearly buzzing at how silent it was, and said,
"ever had a girlfriend?"
ghost hummed, seemingly now unsurprised in your random questions.
"no, i haven't."
"too handsome for them? the girls over there in the uk not good enough for you?" ghost put the last stich in your leg and began cleaning up, getting up from his place where he was crouching, which you noticed with a grin was one of the only times he was shorter than you.
"i don't think about dating. is that why you were so distracted today?" his accented voice made you have goosebumps with how close to your ear he was.
"what if i was distracted by someone?" you got up from the chair, wobbling a little due to the pain and probably even the amount of blood you lost on the way here.
"well, you sure as hell better stop thinking of them by tomorrow," he quickly grabbed your arm to prevent you from falling over, and your face flushed.
"but if they're always around me, how am i supposed to stop thinking about them?"
"so you have a little schoolgirl crush?"
"i wouldn't call it a schoolgirl crush. i've known them for years."
you saw a flash of jealousy in his eyes.
"if you want them so bad that you can't focus in an area with a bunch of threats, maybe you got to fucking get over it or tell them how you feel already. i don't need you making rookie mistakes on your missions."
"so i should confess to them?"
there was a pause before ghost responded, "do i look like a fucking love fairy? do whatever you have to do to start paying attention."
you made your way in front of him, preparing for the rejection of your life. hey, at least that would most definitely stop you from thinking about him all the time.
you looked up through your eyelashes at the built man towering above you.
"i fucking like you, simon."
"what was that?"
your head flung upwards to look at him, his hand gripping onto your chin.
"i said, i fucking like you," your eyebrows furrowed, and your face heated up in embarrassment. you attempted to look anywhere but him, but it was kind of hard when his face was right in front of yours, to the point where you could see every single little scratch and imperfection in his well loved skull mask.
"so i was the one distracting you this whole time?"
"yes! jesus christ, are you gonna kiss me or not?" you decided to let that slip from your mouth, impatient in how he was going to respond.
a hint of amusement danced in his eyes, and he took his hand away from your chin and lifted his mask off just barely to the point where you could see his plump lips, the yellow light from the lantern casting shadows on his face.
he inched closer, all the way to where you could feel his breath on your face and all you could see was his eyes. you licked your lips in anticipation, finally being able to kiss the one person you've wanted to kiss ever since you were a young rookie.
"will this make you pay attention?"
☆☆.
#i fucking hate this i'm sorry#simon ghost riley#ghost x reader#cod#call of duty modern warfare#cod mwii#simon riley#simon riley x reader#ghost mw2#cod mw22#mw2 imagine#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost fanfiction
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Old Roots Pt.1
TASKFORCE141 x Fem!Reader
Summary: Los vaqueros and you were childhood friends and they left without a trace before you entered adulthood.
Sorry if this took a while, testing weeks are a bitch and almost considered dropping and scraping the idea on multiple occasions :/
Also: I tried adding more story/ background and working on my descriptions and details skills!!! Tell me if this is better and feedback is greatly appreciated <3
Word count:6.4k!!! (Get comfy :3)
TW: Blood, gore, violence, CoD type of violence, injured reader
WARNING!!!!! IT MAYBE GRAPHIC TO SOME OF THE READERS
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“Alejandro bajate de allí” you told Alejandro as he was playing on top of a stone hedge. “¡Por favor Ale!” screamed a very panicked Rodolfo while clutching to your arm tightly. “No worries I got this! I just need a little more!” He shouted back. This all happened after pointed out how delicious the red apples look hanging from tree. Alejandro being Alejandro and knowing how much you love red apples he is currently trying to reach from on top of the wall. But the problem was that all 3 of you were (at the time) really short. So, in the mind of a kid, he did the best thing he could ever think of which consisted of jumping off and hopefully getting the juicy treat for you. Growing up with him you knew what he was going to do with just a glint of his eyes. “Alejandro, no lo hagas, for everything I could ever ask of you please don’t do it.” Without a warning he just jumped off and landed on top of Rudy that you didn’t know when he moved but he tried to catch him. Both landed on their back on the rough patchy spot, the only spot without lush grass for some type of cushioning. You ran to reach them as fast as your stubby legs could go. Once you reached them you heard small sniffles, as you got closer Alejandro rolled off Rudy, he first looked at his scratched knee then at you with tear filled eyes and let all the tears loose. You were quick to pull him into a hug as your head rested on Alejandro’s shoulder you saw how Rudy also looked like he was about to burst into tears you knew he was because he was very scared of something bigger that could have happened to Alejandro. You just hold out your arm as in to invite him into a hug he quickly obliged. The three of you enjoyed each other’s presence until it was broken when Alejandro started giggling. The hug disbanded away from Alejandro just for him to turn around with a bright smile and holding out 3 red apples on a branch. “Ay, Alejandro...” You sighed out. Ruffling his hair, you quickly gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, he immediately turned red and shoved the branch in your arm and turned away and pouted. After pulling Alejandro to his feet, you guided them to a river and told Alejandro to wash the knee as well as he could while you washed the apples up stream. Rudy started to wrap a piece of fabric around Alejandro’s knee while you sat a little more behind them. “Gracias Rodolfo,” you praise as you give him a kiss on the check as a thank you. He also turned red and pulled his shoulders up to try and cover his blush. You distributed the apples to them and started eating them while staring out to the bustling town below. “Oye, when you grow up what do you want to do?” You ask out loud. Both Alejandro and Rodolfo hummed and tilted their heads as in thought. Alejandro was the first one to quickly stand up and shout, “¡Parar los tipos malos! And kick them out from here and make them never come back.” “That means joining the military, Alejandro! With the problem of the cartel, they are probably going to kill us just for joining!” countered Rodolfo. “We have to fight back some way or another. ¡Por nuestra familia!” You courage him with a warm smile. “¡Tienes razon! Juntos paráremos a todos ellos!” he shouted with a sudden boost of courage. You smiled fondly at both of them as you ruffled their hair and thought ‘Yes, together we shall stop all of them’!
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The strong relationship between all three of you were building throughout the years started crumbling the moment you started entering your adulthood. You no longer spent that much time together anymore because there was simply no time, your mom fell ill and has been bedridden ever since when you were a teenager, you took the part of taking care of her as your father went out most of the day and always came back after dark completely exhausted. It was a blessing and a curse that you were the only child, a blessing because your parents wouldn't use that much money on food and plain necessities but a curse because you always felt that you must help and work around the house for your parents and take all the load of work. As for Alejandro and Rodolfo? They left without a trace, one day you are catching up on your lives and finding a day where you can enjoy a day like the “good ‘ol times” and the next they were nowhere to be found, you asked around, but all the leads came into a dead end and soon you gave up on looking for them. It was harsh for you to adjust without them and the only thing you knew was they were probably dead but maybe they were alive! But if they were alive, why didn’t they tell you or a letter or the very least a goodbye. A few months passed and your mother unfortunately lost her fight against her illness. Her passing was harsh and taxing on both your father and you.
On your father because he started picking up drinking again after he stopped in order to buy the few medications that your mother needed. But for you, after losing your friends that felt like almost younger brothers to you and now your mother. You felt like you had no one, especially now with an emotionally distant father. His drinking problem slowly started to get the best of him, and he started wasting so much that you could no longer help with your job. After he realized he didn’t have enough to continue feeding his addiction he started asking for loans from the cartel as he knew he had no way of paying them back.
He soon started to take his frustrations out on you which caused you to say out of the house most of the time, sometimes even sleeping in the old hideout all of you built away from the town to hide whenever the 3 of you would do mischief. It was a small house under a huge oak tree the leaves and branches hanging down low enough to hide the scraps and wood you collected to build and resemble a house. It was a paradise, at least when you were younger, it had a small play kitchen with a window that had curtains made if sewn together random fabrics that you found in the garbage. On the windowsill there was a small tin can that you always replace each day when you were play pretend that you had a bakery or sometimes a restaurant, that supposedly that Alejandro and Rodolfo were going to help you build so you could fulfil your dream on opening your own restaurant and so people could enjoy your cooking. You always think about that promise every time you enter the small house.
For that reason, that “playhouse” you built together, was the sole reason you were still alive to this day because one day you were sleeping under the old tree. You were awoken by the smell of smoke and fire you immediately shot up from the makeshift bed and ran outside thinking that the town or the tree must have caught on fire but much to your despair it was your house. Of into the distance on a lonely hill where the house you grew up, played around, and made memories with your loved ones was ablaze with fire that looked like they could reach the sky and smoke that started making it seem like a twilight zone. You immediately started running towards your house. Your legs and lungs slowly started to burn and hurt as you made it on top. The flames produced so much heat that your eyes started to water. The townspeople were already trying their best to quell the fire. There was a human chain system that had water bucket from the nearby river. Your heart rate spiked once you noticed that you hadn't seen your father yet. You frantically started searching for him calling out his name and checking the face any man that seem to be the same age of your dad. Soon ice felt that was coursing through your veins, that the only possible way to find your dad was that he was in the house fire. As you turned to look back at your house, the roof collapsed like your lungs. You once again broke into a sprint to your house once you reached it you tried going in but an older woman no older that your mother caught your wrist. “¡No lo hagas mija!”. In desperation you shook her hand off from your arm and tried to run in but this time you were stopped by two ranchers, the same ones you would buy milk from every Sunday morning for your mom since she never liked her coffee black. This time they managed to hold you back as you tried to claw your way out from their clutches. “¡Suélteme! ¡Mi papá está allí adentro! ¡Por Favor salven a mi papa!” You watched as they slowly pulled you way from the burning house as tears rained down your face and your memories went up in flames.
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You were startled from your dreamless and restless sleep by a knock on the bedroom door. You were taking in your surroundings when the door opened to reveal the same women from yesterday.
Oh Yesterday... Oh yesterday...
The sweet lady was an old friend of your mom's. She always tried to help you with any small thing she could but as the years came; she just couldn’t go up the hill anymore. She must have sensed your sudden change of heart as your face contorted into a frown and grimace as you remembered the events the night prior. “Buenos dias hija. ¿Como Sigues?" she asked with a soft smile present on her face. Her soft hand covered your fidgety hands as your eyes began to get glossy with tears rimming your eyes. “Ay, mija...” she sighed and pulled you into a deep embrace it was probably your emotional distress of your resent events or the fact you haven't felt that type of hug your mother gave you every time you felt bad but this time the embrace had a beating heart. It was like a dam crumbling down and tears burst out has you grabbed fistful of fabric on her back as you let everything out and the sweet lady just stayed put, rubbed your back, and shushed as your tears reduced into small hiccups and sniffles.
The older lady grabbed you hand and gently pulled you up to your feet and with a soft voice she spoke, “Vamos, mija, there is breakfast downstairs.” Both of you sat down at the table and a breakfast plate was already prepared in front of you, it consisted of scrambled eggs with sausage, refried beans, and some freshly made tortillas the same one she used to make when she was well. You stared at the plate for a few minutes before forcing yourself to start eating. The sad tension was broken when a man which face was worn down by the years came in and took off his hat as he entered. “Buenos dias, ¿Como sigue la niña?” He asked his wife before pulling her way into the kitchen and soon it was filled with hushed, rapid whispers.
They emerged from the kitchen once again and stared at you with worry very present to their faces as they didn’t want to tell you something. Shaking his head, the older gentleman sat in front of you and placed his hat on the table. You stared in silence back at him urging him just to spill on what he had talked to his wife. “Mija...” he started but stopped once his voice cracked but continued “We found your father-” right before you could get your hopes up on seeing if your father was okay, he cut you off before you could even ask where he is “-but he isn’t with us anymore.” You deflated as you slumped into the chair and the food long forgotten. “Can you at least take me to him or tell me where he is?” You ask hopelessly.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Why?”
“Because your father wasn’t there when the fire started, he wasn’t even near when it happened”
“Then what happened?” With that question a tension quickly formed in the room which caused you to panic and tilt your head as in question “What happened” you pressed again. You saw that the couple glanced at each other talking with their eyes as they hesitated to tell you the truth. “TELL ME!” you shouted you couldn’t take it anymore the silence was killing you. At your sudden burst the older man seemed to react he simply stood up take his hat off the table before heading to the door. “Sígueme, por favor.” You walked a few paces behind him, and you took note that his house was barely on the outskirts of the town and the direction you were going was to the heart of the town. You people stop and look at you, men taking of their hat, and the townspeople just walked in a somber silence as you walked by.
You felt the hair behind your neck start to rise the more you walked deeper downtown. A hand was placed abruptly on your chest right before a corner to the church. The man just looked at you with so much sadness and sympathy. He simply pulled you into a quick hug and stated “Lo siento mucho mija.” ‘He is sorry? Sorry about what?’ You thought before you could voice your concerns, he pushed you back and squeezed your shoulders to let you go to see for yourself. To go where your father was. As you rounded the corner your eyes widened in shock, the image before you caused a visceral reaction that made your stomach churn and your skin crawl. You feel frozen, overwhelmed by the disturbing emotions that race through your mind.
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Your father or whatever remained of your father was displayed in the front of the church. He was crucified but it seems that all his limbs were ripped off from the torso they were held up by huge metal stakes. Oh Gosh! His head! His head was staked on the top of the cross. The tip of the cross went up where the neck was supposed to go but worst of all you could see the tip of the stake looked like it was about to come out from his right temple. But it seemed that the eyes were already gauged out before the decapitation and the tongue ripped out and thrown carelessly to the ground. It was a gruesome sight to see. You weren’t squimish on the sight of blood or death, most of the time you always took care of the chickens since that was the only meat that your mom only enjoyed eating so this shouldn’t be new to you. But this time it was your father, your dad, that took care of you, cherished you and raised you nondifferent no matter how much he wished to have a son.
You fell to your knees as you coughed and choked up with your own vomit. It hurt, it felt like your whole skull burn under skin, now the lovely breakfast was now spilled on the side of the street. Your heart felt like it was being crushed as your entire world seemed to shatter into a million pieces. You gasped for air, but the tightness of your chest made it hard to breathe. Your hands shook as the weight of the situation began to sink in as you tried to hold yourself together.
From that moment on, you vowed to eradicate every cartel and ensure they never threaten you or your home again.
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You left your hometown there wasn’t anything for you to stay, you lost everything and everyone you cared about. That’s how you find yourself in this situation trapped in this old, abandoned house, not because the cartel managed to get their hands on you. No, you are better than that just you were in the wrong place at the wrong time you were helping a small group of drunk ladies after a night out and being the only sobber one around you decide to help them reach the nearby inn but taking care of one drunken person was hard you had to deal with three one of them.
You were so preoccupied taking care that they wouldn’t hurt themselves that you didn’t notice men all in black approaching the group until a gruff voice broke out, “Buenas noches, señoritas, how are you in this fine evening tonight.” You head snapped back to the man that spoke and notice that he brought 2 more other men that you could see. You set the girl that was the most wasted down had their arm around your shoulder on a rock. “Buenas noches, gentlemen, is there something I could help you with sir?” You asked innocently you were new in this town, but you been long enough to know that they are not from here and up to no good. “No, but I could ask you the same thing do you need help young lady? Seems that taking care of three drunks proves to be a hassle for you, no?” he noted by closing the healthy distance with his men too. Upon saying that all the alarms of danger came in blaring in your skull as even the ladies who were a little tipsy, holded hands and hid behind.
You could take them on, but they were close enough for you to notice that they were armed, and you just could not let them have their way with the women. You stood your ground has you can now feel his horrid smell of alcohol and terrible oral hygiene fanning over your face. His hand slowly came to reach and hold your cheek caressing it lightly. That kind gesture would be welcomed if it weren’t for the predatory gaze, he had present in his eyes as he tried to grind his knee on you between your legs. Before you could fight back the girls behind you squealed which cause you to turn and see that more men came out of nowhere. The hand being so gentle on your face shocked you as if it turned into a cobra, struck your chin, and forced you to turn back at him. This time you refused his advances by biting his thumb until you felt blood burst inside your mouth then you saw a flash of white and your whole side of the face seemed to burn and throb. You looked up at him on the ground as you felt blood start to seep from your busted lip. “¡Pinche perra!,” he shouted and landed a hard kick in your stomach.
You now know that you couldn’t get out of here without violence. You used your low stance on the ground you advantage. You acted fast lifting your body with your left hand and swung your right leg at the side of his knees as your body twisted right. You felt your leg connect with a satisfying pain that coursed up through your leg but seeing land on his enough for the pain to subside just a little. You launched yourself at him, your right fist connected to his jaw you were about through more before a man behind you wrapped his arm around your throat and squeezed. Your hands immediately flew to scratch him, but he didn’t budge, just squeezed more. You panicked when you started seeing black spots on your vision. You started kicking much harder and slamming the underside of your fists on his thighs. You were about to black out until your left-hand graced what you presume is a knife on his hip; enclosed your hand on the handle ripped it off from its socket and swung back on his thigh and buried it deep enough to his bone. He released you and caused you to fall forward with the knife still in hand. You gently barely hold your throat as you take in huge gulps of air, coughing during the process. The tears barely began to subside then another kick on your back was enough to make you snap back to the situation at hand. You rolled over onto your back, forcing your feet together and kick them out with do much force to send them back a few feet back giving you the opportunity to get back of your feet. You hear a shout coming behind you and head whipped to dodge the knife gracing your cheek, the knife in your hand quickly made home to the stomach. The man just grunted and froze into place as you hold him and pulled the knife back out once then twice and then once more but at the end you twisted the knife and drag it to the side and let the man fall with an ungraceful thud to the ground.
The amount of blood that covered you was frightening but nothing new. The guy that you stabbed on the leg started to crawl away as the first man that started all this also had a knife of his own but unlike the man that it currently bleeding out on the side of the road, he was swinging and failing the knife around with so much speed that nicked you multiple times before you noticed his attack pattern. Swing left, Swing right, then a double step forward. Swing, swing, double step. Again swing, swing and block with the left and push forward and go behind him, grabbed his chin with the same force he had with you and tilted to the side and drive the blade stained with his partner’s blood home on the neck, you struggled to get the blade out once he hit the ground felt the blade slowly come out some audible spirts of blood as you push and pull the blade, you felt yourself getting weaker as the adrenaline slowly subsided within you. As you felt your blade about to get released, then a major force hit your temple, it was strong enough for you to leave the knife embedded in his neck. You landed in your back lightheaded touching the side of your head feeling your blood running down your face and down to the grounds.
There was a loud ringing on your ears as you stare up to the night sky, in your peripheral vision you saw the man that you let live, the on you stabbed in the leg, throw a medium size rock, that’s now covered in small splatters of your blood, to the side. He slowly bend down to get a much bigger rock, heavy enough for him to use both hands and lift it high above his head. You told your body to move, to react or something as he came closer to you with a staggering leg behind. Your vision became black in and out. One side of your brain was screaming at you to force your body to move while the other, stronger, and much louder side just told you to just stay don’t move. Your injuries were just too taxing on your body. Right before he could smash your brain in, multiple shots rang out, his body fell to the ground, but he was already dead before he hit the ground. You heard steps all around you then other male face came in close to yours and smiled with a grin with crooked teeth and a horrible breath, excitedly said to his men as you barely heard, “¡Estás una chulada! Let's take her to EL Sin Nombre, he’ll give us a big prize for this girl that can cause this much damage,” then everything faded to black.
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You woke up with a throbbing around your head it felt like rubber band squeezing eternally. Groaning out as you painfully slowly got up into a sitting position. You raised one of your hands to feel all the dried-up blood caked up on your face and immediately began scratching it off the best you could. You repeatedly open and close your eyes trying to get rid of the dizziness, once settled you took in off your surroundings. It was an abandoned rural house, the windows were caved in but covered in wooden planks, there wasn’t a door, a suspiciously stained deep brown cloth nailed onto the frame. The cloth didn’t do an excellent job of muting the sounds coming from the room next door.
Voices started to arise and slowly made their way towards your direction until finally a man reveal behind the cloth you squint your eyes at until his imagine of the night before appeared in your memory. You are proud to admit that you haven't held hostage too many times before, but you are ashamed to admit that acting like a defenseless and dumb civilian has gotten you out in multiple situations before, so you take your chances and play with that card. You got into character and just stared at him with alarmed doe eyes as he got closer to the makeshift “bed” of you can even call it like that. Before you can play your part, he beat you to it “Cut the crap,” he mocks “I- I mean- We know that you don’t just kill people like that even if it was part of “self-defense”, I saw it in your eyes you have done this more times than you can count,” He grinned out with the same teeth damaged by tobacco and his horrid putrid smell of his breath. “That is why I have you here, alive, so you,” he points at your chest and continues “can work for me, us, for a good pay... for what you do”. “What do you think it is that I do?” You seethe between your teeth. “Simple...” he stats “kill for us. For the cartel.” Acting stupid be damn! You knew that your face gave your true intensions away because before you could even react or voice your opinion. His hand enclosed around your throat squeezing with so much force that it seemed too much from his lanky built. He was smart enough to push himself over you, caging you with a leg on each side of your body and start squeezing with both hands. Your throat must have bruises from the night before because you felt paralyzed by the immense pain for a few seconds before your instincts to survive kicked in, you tried again scratching him on the hands, but nothing seems to work. He squeezed harder and pushed you deeper into the mattress as you tried pushing him away from you or at least scratch his face to know at least you did some damage to this poor bastard.
The weight suddenly vanished, and you felt something wet splattered on your face. The body onto of you slump down to the side with a hole straight through his skull. A sniper. Your blood ran cold as the people on the other side of the room burst out in a commotion when a load of rounds started ringing out by multiple people. Chaos was induced as the paper-thin walls didn’t do anything to stop the bullets and your heart felt like it was about to explode within your chest. Run, run, run! Was the only thing your brain was screaming at you. You stumbled around protecting your head; running and searching for an exit as bits and pieces of debris exploded all around you. Out the back door you heard the person inside had a radio that yelled in English! “Soap, get hold of her she’s the only one who might help us find El Sin Nombre! I’ll keep a look out up here.” They were looking for you in this case, hunting you! That being said you took off as fast as your legs could. A different voice broke through the radio and alerted the man inside once more, “Soap, she running to the blue two-story house southwest from your location!” “Shit!” you cursed out loud as more shots came... above? You look up there was helicopter orbiting the whole neighborhood that you woke up in. You already had a gun that was on the body of a dead man and ran the opposite direction where you first heard the shots and killing two men that had pointed guns in your path clean through the chest. You couldn’t even pat yourself in the back for killing a moving target while you were also in the move that is a first time for you today!
The ground started spewing upwards as bullets crashed into the ground near your feet. A sharp pain in your right calf causes you to stumble forward and crash to the floor with the momentum you had. You look down at your leg and inspect the wound, luckily it grazed your leg not before getting a quarter of a centimeter of your flesh away. You wince at the sight that started to burn and turned to look at the man named “Soap” a silly name if it wasn’t the fact that that he was currently hunting you and closing meter after meter to get you. You swiftly scrambled to get on your feet and limp to the house that had two floors. Some cartel members burst out of the house and paid no attention to you instead to Soap, you were internally grateful they managed to distract him and buy you some time. You bashed the door open with your shoulder and shot where you saw movement you swept the first floor and tried the best you could to run the second which thankfully was empty.
There was empty bookshelf next to the door you quickly rushed in pushing it if front of the door and lodging it with wooden floor lamp stand and tie it around the bookshelf happy with your work you look out the window to find a dense forest out in the outskirts of the town. If you can make it a few yards into the forest, you'll be free. Stomping up the stairs made you snap out of the daydream and raise your gun at the door, he tried the door only to discover it was locked. “Open the door! I don’t want to hurt you!” A thick Scottish accent rang out thought the silence other than your beating heart in your chest. 'Don’t hurt you, my ass!’ you thought as you pulled the trigger without hesitation until it clicks without a bullet. Jesus fucking Christ just your fucking luck! You wasted the last of the bullets on the bastards the floor beneath you and now some crazy ass psychos are after you! Groaning out silence you start looking for another escape route until the was a huge bang at the door behind the bookshelf.
Bastard was launching himself to the door trying to pry it open, not choosing to shoot because he might accidentally hurt you. You only started panicking when you heard splinters come apart at the door, that’s giving in to the repeated force. Out the window it is! Thrusting the butt of the gun to the window it shattered upon impact and chipped off the glass on the windowsill, the noise seems to agitate Soap more because he panically shouted “I know she’s escaping but I’m stuck behind this fecken stupid door! But I’m almost in, the door is about to give up!” True to his word the door did seem like it was 3 hits away of giving in. Bang! You turn to the door, and you saw his gloved hand slip in and take ahold on the side of the door near the doorknob refusing to let the door shut again. The second bang was heard when you were sitting on the windowsill, a leg on each side, and half of his body head included his head could now fit through the crack. His eyes widened as he knew your plan of escape when he saw your position. You knew he was going for the last blow as he retracted his body but this time instead of waiting for the bang when his body slammed to the door, you threw yourself out the window. You couldn’t cushion the fall and crashed to the ground it hurt like a motherfucker, but you couldn’t stop yourself from moving you started crawling and then you go to yourself up and running, limping miserably but running just a few more yards and you be free, you could taste it, tears started forming at the excitement. But then a huge force brought you to the ground once more but this time you couldn’t fight him off you couldn’t even move an inch, the force on top never budged and it was heavy enough to have your lungs struggle to function correctly. The man turned you onto your back and you were met with a horrific picture of a human skull that had deep dark blue eyes staring back at you with an emotion that you couldn’t quite decipher. He proved to be strong enough to hold both of your hands in one of his. The free hand was set the radio on left shoulder and spoke with a British accent “I have secured the running fugitive and we are a few clicks away from the forest Northwest from the location of Soap.” “We have actual visual on you, Ghost, preparing landing to proceed the exfil.” Hearing that Soap was apart a team all hunting you down made your head spin.
Panic once again arose from you as you desperately tried to get of the clutches to this terrifying man, but he didn’t move an inch the frustration got up to you once and just started crying silently as you stared longing at the forest next to you. You were so close and yet so far. Soap meets up with this “Ghost” man on top of you. “What did you do now Ghost? You made another beautiful lady cry again. It was probably because of that ugly mask again,” he teased once he saw your position under Ghost. “Probably if you didn’t do a shit job at capturing her, I wouldn’t be so rough with her but considering she slipped from you two times was the hardest thing to watch through the scope. She was also going to escape from us that third time and I had to take matters into my own hands and here we are, waiting on that helicopter to land and take our asses home with the only person that can help us find answers from El Sin Nombre.” Soap stays quiet but through the silence there was an audible smirk present on Ghost face behind the mask. The helicopter finally landed and Ghost grabbed the front of your shirt to pull you up to your feet and before you could start running, a black plastic zip tie was placed around your wrists by Soap, you could only glare at him as a firm hand was placed behind the base of your neck as a warning to not do any funny business, at least when Ghost was near.
The trio got on the helicopter you were met with two new more faces. An older man that seems to have the warmest smile with crinkled eyes that had a fishing hat that looked impossible to move considering the hat didn’t flinch at the huge gusts of wind the helicopter produced. His name was Price. The other man that seem the youngest of the whole group had darker chocolate skin and had the fullest lips ever on a man with a cap that told the same story as the hat of his older teammate. He introduced himself as Gaz and with the introductions out the way the aircraft lifted itself off the ground and into the sunset sky above.
Almost reaching the 25-minute mark and you have arrived on a small military base. Everyone got off the helicopter and in front of you there were already black SUVs formatted in a line. Everyone started walking towards the car, but you were limping, and Soap was the only one to notice and took your right arm and took off pressure on your wounded leg. Ghost turned around and raised an eyebrow at both of you. Soap simply shrugged and said with a smirk clearly present “What? It’s the least I could do after damaging some fine lady’s leg.” Once you were settled in between Ghost and Soap, even Price as the driver and Gaz the passenger. The car began to move with the help of the rear-view mirror Price made eye contact with you and said “Get yourself comfortable it going to be hours before reaching the location we need you in.” Get comfortable you did! After the stressful two days you had to experience and the amount of adrenaline you had to use took a toll on you because you fell asleep on Soap’s shoulder snoring lightly before the 30-minute mark.
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A/N: Idk why is so graphic but I feel like it fits the story especially if its about the cartel yk yk?
And Pt.2 is in the making :3
#cod#cod mw2#ghost mw2#john mctavish#soap mw2#x reader#ghost x reader#john price#soap x reader#gaz x reader#gaz mw2#simon riley x reader#fem reader#captain price mw2#price x reader#mw2#mw2 fanfic#modern warfare 2#call of duty mw2#call of duty modern warfare 2
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my love, gimme dat Rudy and Reader soft love. He deserves it too <3
Yes, ma'am! 🫡♥️ Ngl this is my first time writing Rudy, I hope I do him justice, my sweet Latino man 🥹♥️
Warnings: none!
Listen to this while you read ♥️
It wasn't unusual for music to fill the air at the Parras' home. Rudy preferred it that way, too. Music kept the memories of his constant battle against the cartel at bay, and welcomed other thoughts, other dreams.
Like a good Mexican home, the speakers constantly played ballads, rancheras, and one and another rock. Tonight's mood - set by you, of course - seemed to be Luis Miguel.
Cómo te atreves
A mirarme así
A ser tan bella
¿Y encima sonreír?
Mía, hoy serás mía por fin
Rudy watched you stir the pot and slowly sway your hips to the rhythm. The dulcet notes hung in the air, and your image, slightly disheveled in your comfy clothes, with stray hairs rebelling against your hair tie and ticking your cheeks, hypnotized him to no end.
The moment you switched off the stove, he was behind you, his hands resting on your hips.
Entrégate
Aún no te siento
Deja que tu cuerpo
Se acostumbre a mi calor
He slowly turned you around, and you only protested a little about dinner, how it was going to grow cold. But your words soon got lost in the air between the two of you as your eyes locked with his tender stare.
You could never reject him, but even less when he looked at you like you came from the heavens just to be in his arms.
Your hands found his strong, muscled shoulders, heavy with responsibility and proud like any Vaquero. He pulled you impossibly closer, and your foreheads pressed together, and you could smell his shampoo mixed with gunpowder, and a scent that was so particularly his.
Rudy began swaying you to the rhythm of the ballad, his eyes memorizing the exact shade of your irises and engraving it in his heart, his lips finding yours by muscle memory, swallowing your sighs.
Tonight, like every other night he came home to you, he held his entire world in his hands.
#ask#answered#Thorne 🫶♥️#besties#i made myself blush with this one#rodolfo rudy parra#rodolfo parra cod#rodolfo parra x reader#rudy x reader#rodolfo parra x reader imagine#rodolfo parra x reader scenario#rodolfo parra x reader fluff#rudy x reader imagine#rudy x reader scenario#rudy x reader fluff#cod mw2#cod mw2 x reader#cod mwii#cod mwii x reader
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can you do part 2 of the sierra six smut where they meet again?? I absolutely loved it !!!
A/N: Wild Child by the Black Keys is such a perfect outro for The Gray Man- I also think it’s perfect for describing Six & reader’s relationship. This fic admittedly wrote itself over the past couple of weeks, and it just kept getting longer and longer 🥲 I don’t know if I like how it progressed because I’ve finished bits and pieces of it at odd hours whilst in the hospital, but I hope y’all like it! It’s got a lil dash of every genre thrown in there (ya girl loves her flavor 👩🏾🍳) Also I apologize in advance if anything seems OOC for Court, I did my best but I’m still nervous about writing for him 🙈
Tags: @ejhpmarvelsimp
———
“Contact?”
“Negative,” you readjust the comm device in your ear and pull your lipstick out of your handbag, pursing your lips in the car’s rearview mirror to apply a shock of red. “Oasis is too smart for that. Just tailing for now.”
“Timeline?” your handler follows up bluntly, pulling an eye roll from you in retaliation.
“Can you speak in more than two syllables? You know, sometimes you’re the only person I speak to for weeks at a time.”
“Do you have an estimated timeline?”
You sigh, muttering out a, “Thank you,” for the technical adherence to your request before laying out the details of your proposed op. “…and that should give me the in to confirm that she’s distributing Rainbow,” you conclude. “So at least three weeks to make contact, get comfy, and catch her in the act.”
“Can we accelerate that to two weeks?”
“No,” you make a face in the mirror, grateful that the conversation is audio only. “I’m going to need a little more time to catch a soccer mom by day, cartel head by night.”
“Affirmative, Agent. Carmichael wants a status report in 72 hours.”
The line goes dead with a soft click as you mock your handler under your breath, “Carmichael wants a status report in 72 hours. Yeah? Well, Denny can suck my left tit, fucking-”
You continue grumbling as you climb out of the car and sling your purse over your shoulder before dropping your features into a bored expression and tucking a pair of stupidly expensive sunglasses into your hair- more of a statement piece than protective eyewear, really.
Snagging a shopping cart from just outside the entrance, you step into the grocery store and begin cruising down the aisles on the hunt for your target. You eventually find her by the fresh produce, judiciously sniffing limes in an apparent search for freshness. Your facial muscles twitch with the urge to frown at the odd display, but instead you suppress your natural inclination and force a smile as her gaze lifts to meet yours. She flashes her pearly whites in return, none the wiser, and you direct your eyes toward the aromatics. You don’t want her growing suspicious, and you’re fairly confident not even Oasis would have the balls to be openly dealing Rainbow in the produce section of the only grocery store in town.
She turns her way down an aisle and you toss some parsley and thyme into your cart with a shrug before easing into the parallel aisle, a soft gasp leaving your parted lips at the sight before you.
Who but Sierra fucking Six is standing in the middle of the bakery and breakfast section, arguing about the merits of chocolate versus fruit-flavored cereal with a teenage girl, a box of each dwarfed in his large hands. Having apparently relented to the young girl’s whims, he tosses both boxes in their cart before leaning against the handle as he plans out his next tactical move, easing a scrap of paper out of the back pocket of his jeans. You can’t help but follow the movement of his nimble fingers as they search his pocket, marveling over the way the denim hugs his muscular legs and the curve of his ass. Letting your gaze travel back up, heat floods your cheeks at the way his t-shirt stretches over his taut muscles, the fabric looking almost comical, the seams practically begging to be let out as they suffocate on his biceps. He smooths a hand over his goatee as he laughs at something the teen said, the movement drawing your eyes further upward. His honey-blonde hair has grown out a bit since you last saw him, still neatly trimmed but now with a few loose strands falling across his forehead. Despite physically looking the same, there’s a different air to Six. He seems almost… comfortable.
Domesticity suits him well (and somehow manages to make him even more attractive), and you find your thoughts wandering to his role in this girl’s life. Is he a single dad? Uncle? Is she his latest protective assignment?
The duo disappears in the blink of an eye and you half-wonder if your target slipped some of her product into the veggie sprinklers causing you to hallucinate. There’s no way you’re seeing Six stateside in a grocery store in the middle of Nowhere, USA after spending eight months traipsing across Europe.
Clearing your thoughts with a slight shake of your head, you catch up to your target and continue following her around the store, absentmindedly tossing grocery items into your cart and stopping to peruse the wine rack as she does the same.
An alluring mix of cologne and distinct masculine musk wafts over you sending your sympathetic nervous system into overdrive, your heart thudding against your ribcage.
Evidently you hadn’t been drugged.
“That white pairs great with a good branzino,” an all too familiar silky voice drapes languidly across your body causing goosebumps to erupt over your skin.
Without looking up, you retort, “Thanks for the advice, but I won’t be enjoying it. It’s for my boss.”
“Does your boss have a Prada purse,” he murmurs by your ear, his sheer proximity making you shiver, “because she’s looking this way.”
“I’m sure everything in this town with a pulse is looking this way,” you shoot back, still unwilling to meet his eyes.
“Then let’s give them something to look at.” You register the teasing lilt to his voice moments before his fingers are tucking under your chin, tilting your head up to press his supple lips against your own.
The bottle of wine remains in your hand as you throw your arms around his neck in an attempt to get as close as physically possible, your eyelids fluttering closed as memories of your night together pervade your senses.
“Y/N,” he growled softly, deep voice bringing you out of your reverie. You picked your head up to find his gaze locked on yours, the sight of his lust blown pupils and reddened lips causing your breath to come out in sharp pants. “Eyes on me.”
And then his mouth was on you, consuming you from the inside out and trapping you in a world of him until the only discernible word falling from your lips was his name.
“Nice to see you again, old timer,” you whisper against his lips, pulling back with a smile, finally opening your eyes and instantly drowning in a sea of blue.
“Told you I’d find you, kid,” a triumphant smirk has the audacity to grace his beautiful mouth.
“Uh no,” you hold up a finger in contradiction, glancing over his shoulder to ensure Oasis is still in sight, “technically I found you.”
“But were you looking for me?”
“Shut up,” you place your hand against his chest and shove, only succeeding in moving him a few inches but enough to ease the wine bottle into your cart. The man is more tree than human and the unbidden image of you climbing his body flashes through your mind.
“So,” he breaks you out of your lustful thoughts, leaning against your cart handle and offering you the perfect window to track your target as you talk- she’s suddenly very interested in the white wine, her eyes darting over to the two of you every so often- “what’s your boss got you up to these days?”
“Mergers and acquisitions, the usual,” you shrug easily. Murders and asset retrieval.
“New business in town?” He cocks an eyebrow out of curiosity, fingers slipping into the front pocket of his jeans before returning triumphantly with a piece of gum.
Your mouth goes dry as he wets his lips before snagging the rectangle between his teeth, torturously pulling the pink gum into his mouth bit by bit. “A colorful one,” you rasp out, subtly keying him in to your operation surrounding the quiet expansion of Rainbow.
He nods in acknowledgment, chewing thoughtfully. “So I’ll be seeing you around.” He presses a kiss to your lips, turns on his heel, and disappears in a wave of woodsy cologne, the faint taste of watermelon gum, and a parting wink thrown over his shoulder.
———
Days later you’re parked in the school carpool lane gathering intel on Oasis and her teenagers, your sedan four vehicles behind her massive SUV. You let your head rest against the cracked driver-side window as your eyes scan the parents and guardians milling about. Your eyes continue cataloguing faces as your brain checks out, thoughts drifting to your friendly neighborhood blonde-haired, blue-eyed, sinfully-tongued former partner in crime. You haven’t seen him since that day in the grocery store, and even though you’re grateful that he hasn’t been around to distract you, you can’t help but expect him to be walking along every corner you round. Although, truth be told, you’d be very surprised to see Six at the establishments that Oasis frequents.
Your mind drifts back for the umpteenth time this week to a moment you shared at HQ with Agent Miranda after you picked up your dossier for this op. “Quaint little town, nice change of pace,” she smiled as you crossed paths in the hall. Leaning forward conspiratorially, she tacked on, “Watch out for Six!”
You’ve spent one too many brain cells analyzing and overanalyzing her words- surely she meant Watch your six, and happened to mix up the idiom. But Dani was nothing if not intentional with her diction, and you swore you’d heard her correctly. If that was the case, had she and Six stayed in touch since his curious departure from the agency? Had the Sierra Six, the Gray Man, the expert silent assassin, Mister No Worldly Possessions or Connections been…asking about you?
Your passenger door suddenly flies open, the hulking form taking up space in your mind rent-free folding its way into your car, the familiar whiff of cologne forcing your coiled muscles to relax- marginally.
“Put the safety back on, cowgirl.”
“Why?” you demand, no patience for pleasantries.
“Because I like my face intact. Nails look pretty,” he juts his chin to indicate your fresh manicure, courtesy of your target’s weekly visits for fill-ins.
“No,” you refine your question coolly, retracting your trigger finger and replacing the safety on your weapon, “why are you here? In my car? Potentially blowing my cover?”
“Came to pick up my Claire, saw you,” he shrugs as if this is an everyday occurrence for two highly trained operatives, glancing at passerby and students on the sidewalk to ensure no one’s taken an interest in you two.
“Your Claire, hm?” You raise your coffee cup to your lips and take a long drag, the combination of the caffeine and heat sending your neurons buzzing.
“Kind of my niece, kind of my little sister,” he elaborates, keeping an eye out the window for her. “She’s Fitz’s niece, but y’know how our life goes,” he shrugs again, the only semblance of emotion he’ll allow himself to show. “So she’s my Claire now.”
“Court,” your lips pull into a frown and you reach for his hand on instinct, catching the subtle lift of the corner of his mouth in response. The simple gesture is enough for him to understand what you’re trying to say.
“Kid and I have a pretty good thing going here, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind a lady friend in her life,” he muses softly, studiously watching the middle schoolers fly out the front doors and avoiding your gaze as if you’ll be able to see all of his vulnerabilities and insecurities in his stormy eyes.
Sensing an opportunity to break down another one of his walls, you cry out, “Why, yes, Court, I will marry you!”
He barks out a laugh and shakes his head, playfully knuckling against the soft skin of your cheek as your mouth twists into a wry smile. “Let’s start with dinner first.” He eases the passenger door open and steps out onto the sidewalk, offering you a slip of paper between his index and middle fingers through the crack of the window.
You unfold the paper to find a local address in his scrawl, calling to his retreating back, “What time?”
“Guess.”
———
You rock back and forth on your heels on the doorstep at six in the evening, a fresh bottle of the fateful white wine in your hands. The paneling detail on the front door is suddenly fascinating, allowing you to hyper-focus on anything but the nerves fluttering in your stomach. You’ve taken out corrupt diplomats, toppled drug cartels, faced some of the most dangerous men and women that the devil himself would shy away from, all by your mid-twenties, yet you’ve got butterflies in your tummy at the prospect of failing to earn a teenage girl’s approval.
Oh how the mighty have fallen.
If you’re honest with yourself, you’re not sure why you’re nervous. Operatives don’t have the luxury of falling in love and playing house. Sure, you enjoyed your time with the Sierra and the sex was incredible, but you both know that nothing more could ever come of this. Y’know how our life goes, Six himself had said, and he was damn right.
“You must be Y/N.” You lift your eyes to meet the brunette’s sharp gaze, her eyes quietly scrutinizing you as she does a subtle once over.
“You must be Claire,” you offer your hand in greeting and she shakes it firmly, all business.
She spots the floral tattoo on your shoulder and the corner of her mouth lifts in a manner matching that of her guardian, “I like your ink.” Claire cranes her neck to gaze further into the house and you hear a huff in response to her unspoken question.
“Absolutely not.”
“But-”
“Nope,” Six comes into view and pulls the door open further, beckoning you inside.
“Regretting adding that lady friend to her life?” you tease as you step through the doorway, toeing off your shoes in the corner of the foyer as Claire grumbles on about almost an adult and annoyingly overprotective.
“Not quite yet, but I’m sure we’ll get there,” he smirks at you, enjoying the way your nose scrunches indignantly in response. You follow the two of them into the dining room, your mouth immediately beginning to water at the delicious smells emanating from the kitchen. “When’s the last time you had a proper home-cooked meal?” Court asks with a smile as he places your proffered wine bottle on the table.
“Properly? Ten years, give or take,” you shrug, your voice dropping to nearly a whisper as you busy yourself playing with the hem of your shirt. You honestly can’t remember the last time you had a nice dinner with enjoyable company, not at a group home or hostel, not on a honey-pot mission, not memorizing a dossier on a shitty hotel couch while forcing down a frozen meal before heading out under the cover of night.
In a surprising display of affection that makes your chest warm for reasons you don’t have time to unpack, Court presses his lips against your temple, bringing you back to the present. “Then I sincerely hope you enjoy this one.”
“And I sincerely hope you didn’t go through all this trouble just for me.”
You follow him into the kitchen to help, taking the plates Claire passes to you from the cabinet as she quietly confides, “We definitely ordered in but someone was very particular about the menu.”
You and Six fall into a comfortable silence as Claire chats about her day, setting forks on the placemats as you gently lay the plates down behind her. You watch, mesmerized, as the blonde nimbly uncorks the sweet wine and divvies it up between your glasses. Something about setting the table together, doing such a normal nuclear family activity, humanizes the two of you, and you’re surprised that the motions have come back to you so naturally.
Six eases your chair out and you smile up at him as you take your seat. Dinner progresses with easy conversation, but then the agent in you senses the shift in the air and you know the teen is gearing up for trouble.
“So…” Claire drags out the word, flaking off a piece of the immaculately cooked fish, “how did you meet Six?”
“Work,” the two of you rush out in unison, meeting each other’s gaze across the table. Claire smirks knowingly at her guardian and Six makes a face at her in response, mouthing something you can’t quite catch.
Raising an eyebrow and looking between the two of them you ask, “Am I missing something here?”
“Don’t answer that,” he threatens playfully with a pointed finger at the youngster.
She crosses her arms and raises her eyebrows, and you can’t help the grin that appears on your face from their shared mannerisms. “Are you gonna let me try the wine?”
“For the second time this evening, absolutely not.”
“Fine,” Claire smiles angelically, turning her full attention towards you. “Courtland’s been talking about you nonstop for the past couple weeks.”
He growls something unintelligible and your hand flies to your mouth, hiding your chuckle in a cough.
“Don’t choke,” Court admonishes, his tone implying that he wouldn’t be too upset if you happened to suffer for just a moment.
“Thanks for your concern, Courtland,” you simper.
“As I was saying,” Claire clears her throat to redirect your attention, a smug smile gracing her features, “some days I still can’t get more than three words out of him, but suddenly he’s thinking about you and turns into quite the conversationalist.”
“That’s interesting,” you pause to sip your wine, an eyebrow arching in Six’s direction, “because he was very vocal when we first met.”
His jaw ticks and his eyes narrow at your innuendo, and you both know you’re thinking about his low grunts and growls as he fucked you all those months ago. Nothing if not consistent, he merely grunts now in acknowledgement.
“What’s the matter, Court?” you smile easily. “Cat got your tongue?”
He clears his throat and stands from the table abruptly- a bold move considering his dick is already stiffening at the thought of your soft skin beneath his fingertips once again. “Dessert, anyone?”
“You know I’ll never turn down ice cream,” Claire grins.
You scoot your chair back from the table, gathering the plates as you stand. “I’ll come help.”
“Oh, I bet you will,” the blonde grumbles under his breath, subtly adjusting his pants as he walks to the kitchen.
You purposefully brush up against him on your way to the sink and he bites back a groan. “Do you not have work to do tonight, Agent?”
“Drug pushing mommy’s gotta sleep,” you shrug, rinsing the plates off, “and so do I.”
“Just sleep?” he murmurs in your ear, gliding his nose down the curve of your neck and pressing his body against you so you can feel the full weight of his question.
You let your head fall back with a sigh offering him better access to the sensitive skin of your neck. “Court,” it’s a whine, a plea, a gentle nudge in the right direction.
“Suspiciously quiet in there!” the teenager calls from the dining room, earning herself a low, chastising, “Claire…”
“You’re quite the daddy,” you test the waters with your compliment, relishing the way his eyes flash at the title and filing that tidbit away for later.
His gaze drops to your parted lips and he licks his own before pulling away and opening the freezer. “Vanilla or chocolate?” he asks calmly, appreciating the cold snapping him back to his senses.
“Chocolate,” you hum, unable to resist the urge to slap his ass as he’s bent over perusing the shelves. He jumps at the sudden contact and you laugh delightedly at your ability to keep arguably the world’s greatest assassin on edge. “I’m not a big fan of vanilla.”
———
Your earpiece crackles to life later that night, your handler’s tinny voice coming through with, “Where the fuck are you, Y/L/N?”
“Little,” you breathe out, “busy right now.” Court grins wickedly, languidly kissing down your nearly naked body and dragging his stubble against your sensitive skin before nipping along the meat of your thigh.
“That’s not an answer. Why is your heart rate skyrocketing?”
“Oh, y’know,” you suck in air through your teeth as the handsome devil nuzzles your folds over your panties, forcing you to bite down on your hand to avoid becoming a little too familiar with your handler. “Went for a run.”
You tug sharply on Six’s locks to get him to stop, but the feeling of your nails against his scalp serves the opposite purpose. He yanks the frilly fabric covering your core down with a vengeance and presses the flat of his tongue against your folds, your hips rising of their own accord to meet his mouth halfway.
“Do you have an update for Carmichael?”
Your eyelids flutter shut when he nuzzles your clit with his nose, darting the tip of his tongue just past your wet folds. You force your eyes open and turn your head to the nightstand, focusing on the glaring 10:17 looking back at you.
“Can I get you a report in the morning?”
“Do you want to piss Denny off?”
“God, you’re annoyingly persistent,” you huff at both your handler and the blonde between your legs looking up at you with a sinful smile. “This operation goes a lot-” your voice catches in your throat and your head drops back against the pillow as Court plunges his tongue inside you, “deeper than I initially thought.”
“Elaborate.”
“I’m getting an intimate view of her soldiers,” you rasp out, subconsciously clamping your thighs around Six’s head as he eats you out like a man possessed, fingers digging into your skin to keep you down against the bed. “Need some more time to figure out their pecking order.”
“And then you’ll infiltrate?”
“Mhm, yeah, I’m close!” You hurriedly end the connection and release the wanton moan that’s been growing in your throat throughout the infuriating conversation, enjoying the way Court growls against your pussy in response. “I was serious,” you half laugh, half cry out, “about being close, Court.”
“I can feel it,” he rumbles, “so give it to me.” And then his tongue is spearing in and out of you, mapping out your most sensitive spots, curling in the most delicious of ways, devouring you, consuming you. He splays his fingers across your stomach to hold you in place as he feasts on you, his thumb moving to trace tight circular patterns around your clit and pushing you over the edge into sheer ecstasy. You cover your mouth with your hand as his name repeatedly falls past your lips like a prayer, keenly aware of the sleeping teen just down the hall.
“You look so beautiful like this,” Court sighs almost reverently, leaning on his elbows to brush his lips against yours as he smiles down at your blissfully fucked-out face.
You let your tongue slip into his mouth and tangle lazily with his, the fact that you can taste yourself on him making you delirious with desire. Trailing your fingers down his bare back, you tuck your hands under the waistband of his pants and squeeze his ass before shoving his remaining clothing down his muscular legs. He chuckles against your mouth at the sensation as he kicks off his pants and boxers, moving to kiss along your jaw as he eases his deliciously hard cock between your folds, teasing but not yet pushing into you. “Please,” you whine out, wrapping your legs around his lower back and pressing your heels against the taut muscle there, urging him to give in, to fill you up.
You confess around a gasp, “I’ve been thinking about this for the past eight months,” as Court mercifully slots himself between your thighs. He cups your jaw and presses his nose against the hollow of your throat as he rocks against you, drawing out a whine from the very depths of your being. Your heart flutters in your ribcage as he returns his lips to your own, your tongues tangling unhurriedly in a sensuous dance as he curves his hands around your shoulders and bottoms out with each gentle thrust. You realize, somewhat terrifyingly, that this doesn’t feel like your previous encounter when you were desperate to connect with another human and feel alive again. He’s taking his time with you, kissing you like his life depends on it, gently guiding you both towards orgasm. This man is leaving a brand on your soul, and you’re suddenly glad that your life is one of solitude because, you know now with an earth-shattering sense of clarity, no other lover will ever compare to him. Your chest swells with an uncharacteristic warmth at the thought as the coil in your belly snaps and you tighten around him, encouraging him to please fill me up, Court, please.
Last time, he made you feel human; now, he makes you feel whole.
You tuck yourself against his solid form, sharing lazy kisses as you card your fingers through his hair and bask in your afterglow when you suddenly sit up with a start, something Claire said over dinner having poked through your subconscious. “How long have you been keeping tabs on me?”
He rises slowly, brushing your hair onto your shoulder and pressing kisses to your neck. “Hm?”
“Court,” you admonish softly, “how long?”
“No idea what you’re talking about,” he mumbles, now nibbling along your jaw in a blatant attempt to distract you.
“Claire said you’ve been talking about me for weeks. I’ve been here for eight days. Fess up.”
“I plead the fifth.”
“Oh my god,” you smack his chest with the back of your hand as another realization dawns on you and he winces playfully. “You knew I was getting this op before I did!”
He falls back onto the pillow, folding his arms behind his head to watch you put the pieces together and making you want to forego your interrogation in lieu of wrapping your legs around him once more. “Did I?”
“And,” you force yourself to focus, “you have been tracking where I am through Dani, which means I’m not crazy and she really did say ‘Watch out for Six’!”
“Did she now?”
“I’ve been trying to convince myself she said ‘Watch your six’ for longer than I’d like to admit.”
“Loud guns have been known to cause hearing loss.”
“Courtland,” you growl out, “that is such a gross breach of confidentiality.” You huff, crossing your arms before begrudgingly admitting, “But it’s also weirdly sweet.”
“In that case,” he smiles angelically, “I’ve been checking on you since you walked down that hallway in Prague.”
“You could’ve called. Emailed. Relayed a message through Dani. Sent a fucking pigeon or something.”
“Y’know, the kids call it ‘tweeting’ these days.”
“You are-”
“Hilarious? Charming?”
“Infuriating,” you grumble, tugging the bedsheet up over your body and purposefully lying down facing away from him. He wraps one arm around you and effortlessly pulls you closer, your smaller form perfectly slotting into the curve of his large body. “I don’t like you.”
“Yeah? Glad we cleared that up,” he counters easily, slipping his arm under your head and nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “Goodnight, Y/N.”
“Goodnight, Courtland.”
“I will forever regret telling Claire my name.”
———
You wake the next day with a smile on your face, enveloped by the slightly spicy, woodsy scent that you’ve subconsciously come to associate with a sense of security. Rolling onto your side with a groan, you find a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt neatly folded into a pile in place of Court’s body. You wash up in the bathroom before donning the change of clothes, cuffing the pant legs to fit your petite frame. Following the scent of brewing coffee, you head into the kitchen and are greeted with the sight of Court in a strikingly similar casual outfit, hovering over the stove.
“Morning,” you hum, slipping onto one of the barstools and leaning your chin in your hands.
“Good morning,” he answers over his shoulder in return, stealing the very breath from your lungs with a dazzling smile. “Clothes fit okay?”
“Okay enough,” you laugh, sticking your leg out from behind the island counter so he can admire your handiwork.
“Good,” he nods once in approval, then turns his attention back to the stove. “Got some scrambled eggs and bacon going, coffee should be finishing up.”
You hop off the stool and snag two mugs from the cabinet, filling them nearly to the brim with room for a dash of creamer and enough sugar to satisfy your sweet tooth. The two of you move as easily through preparing breakfast as you had on your mission eight months ago, the memory bringing a smile to your face. Claire joins you in the kitchen a short time later, dropping her backpack onto the stool you’d vacated earlier and sharing a smile with her guardian as he slides a plate in front of her. “You two enjoy your sleepover?”
“Hey,” Court snaps his fingers with his eyes narrowed playfully, “eat your breakfast and get your ass in the car within the next fifteen minutes, Fitzroy.”
“You’d think you’d be in a better mood this morning, Gentry,” she shoots back, a gleam in her eye as she scoops up a forkful of eggs.
“Incredible, it’s like pay-per-view,” you mutter delightedly over the lip of your mug.
“You should hang out here all the time, we’re very entertaining,” Claire offers nonchalantly, and Court turns to you with one eyebrow quirked.
“What’s this whole thing you’ve got going on?” you question, pointing to your own brow. “Does that mean you concur?”
“I was gonna offer myself, but I wanted to talk to the kid first,” he shrugs with an easy smile. “I’ve stayed in enough of the agency’s sad apartments to know that our place is a substantial improvement.”
It turns out to be much more than a substantial improvement.
Over the next three weeks, you find yourself seamlessly blending into the household, using the two of them as your cover on family outings to track Oasis and her family. You and your once impromptu partner team up again on Friday nights, going on dates at the restaurants your target and her husband frequent- and God, does the blonde clean up nicely, a simple pair of slacks, a tight shirt, and a jacket accenting his muscles in just the right places. Most days, you return from your time ingratiating yourself with Oasis’ right hand men to Court and Claire either working at the dining room table or spread out on the couch watching a movie, a spot under the blanket calling your name. Court has taken to making your coffee just the way you like it every morning (all the while ribbing you about how it’s arguably more sugar than caffeine) while you prepare three lunches for the day ahead. He waits for you to return home every evening so you don’t dine alone, and you climb into the king-sized bed together every night, sometimes exploring each other’s bodies until dawn breaks, sometimes cuddling and talking about anything and everything until you drift off to a suspiciously restful sleep.
You find yourself lulled into a level of domesticity that you could get used to, a thought that both scares and excites you to your core. It’s the closest you’ve come to being part of a family in years, and the idea of losing it when this op ends makes your heart ache with a pain you swore you’d locked away the day you joined the agency.
———
“I’ve got the popcorn!” you sing, inelegantly flopping onto the couch and tucking your legs under you with the bowl in your lap on your fourth weekend at Casa FitzGentry, as you’ve come to privately call it. Court takes up his spot next to you, Claire settling into his other side before situating the large blanket across your little group and nodding for you to scoot the snack into Court’s lap. You reach forward to press play on the remote, starting yet another cheesy heist movie that you and the former Sierra enjoy critiquing as thunder rumbles in the distance. Halfway through the film, the power flickers momentarily and you and Court share a look, his hands almost imperceptibly tightening their grip around the two of you. Claire huffs quietly, used to the agent’s slight paranoia from a life spent looking over his shoulder, but she tucks herself further into the crook of her guardian’s arm nonetheless. The rest of the movie progresses uneventfully, and Claire lets out a yawn before bidding the two of you goodnight, smiling as you both insist that she lock her door- at least for tonight.
Assured that the teen is safe in her windowless room, you and Court decide to take up residence on the couch for the night, the living room being closer to Claire than the master bedroom down the hall.
“Court?” you whisper into the darkness, absentmindedly pulling his hand into your lap and tracing random patterns along his rough palm as you watch the hallway, the former Sierra’s eyes trained on the front door.
“Hm?”
Genuine fear- not for yourself, but for the young girl you’ve come to appreciate as a friend and the closest thing you’ve got to family- roils in your gut, rearing its ugly head and reminding you why operatives don’t form connections. “I’m sorry for bringing this home.”
A flash of lightning illuminates the ranch house, and you hone in on a figure clad in all black in the hallway, your eyes narrowing, jaw setting, heart rate kicking into gear. Court squeezes your hand in acknowledgment before you part, and you creep silently down the hall, an animalistic growl escaping your throat when you recognize the door the intruder is gearing up to kick down. The point of your elbow connects with the soft flesh of his throat, reducing his shock to nothing but a soft gurgle as his hyoid bone gives way with a sickening crunch. He falls to the floor gasping for breath and you take the advantage to climb on top of his body, straddling his hips as he weakly tries to fight you off. You grab fistfuls of his shirt and bodily slam his head against the hardwood floor once, twice, three times, your breath coming in sharp intervals through your flared nostrils.
A strong pair of arms twists around your waist and you turn sharply, ready to fight for your life until a soothing, “Easy there, easy,” floats over your ears in the pitch darkness.
Your heart rate immediately starts slowing and a vague memory about a reflex in the aorta flashes unbidden through your mind from a high school science class. “I’m good,” you nod with a sniff, shaking out of Court’s grip.
“Yeah?” He flicks the hallway light on, raising an eyebrow at the crimson scene painted before you. “You usually don’t get this messy.”
“My targets usually don’t threaten my family,” you respond coolly, dragging the body away from Claire’s door before leaving to call your cleanup crew. Mind racing with tactics to accelerate your endgame and annihilate Oasis for this blatant attack, you miss the smile that flashes across Court’s face at your mention of your little crew as family.
You turn at the sound of crunching gravel as you end your call, the sight of the still-half-asleep teen splayed across Court’s back causing warmth to rise in your chest again, a feeling that’s occurring a tad too frequently for your liking around these two in particular.
Feelings make you weak, weakness makes you vulnerable, and vulnerability ends with a trip to the morgue.
Court drapes Claire along the backseat of your sedan, tucking his jacket under her head as a pillow before slipping into the passenger seat as you fold yourself behind the wheel. You take a circuitous route to your assigned rental apartment to ensure you’re not being followed, and you carry the minimal luggage Court hastily threw together as he piggybacks the teen upstairs. After getting Claire situated in the small bed, the two of you sit shoulder to shoulder on the floor at the foot of the bed as she sleeps, both your eyes and your silenced weapons trained on the apartment door.
As the first streaks of sunlight bathe the room in warm hues, Court allows himself to nod off knowing that you’ll keep his Claire safe, his head lolling against your shoulder. You press your lips to his forehead, whispering three words that you haven’t uttered in over a decade, tears welling in your eyes at the realization that you can, in fact, still feel such depth of emotion. A renewed sense of purpose grows within you as the sun rises, and by the time your two sleeping beauties awake, you’ve made up your mind.
———
“Oasis has proven herself to be a greater threat than we originally anticipated. Permission to execute.”
“Negative, Agent, we need her alive and in custody to connect the dots on the expansion of Rainbow in other areas throughout the Midwest that you’ve uncovered.”
“Terry,” you rarely address your handler directly, hoping your use of his name forces him to understand the weight behind your words, “she’s willing to go to extreme lengths to protect this operation. She sent a hitman after my- to my apartment,” you recover quickly, cursing yourself for allowing a semblance of idyllic family life to affect your judgment. How had you managed to make such a mess of things?
“Christ, Y/L/N,” his sigh crackles through your earpiece. “Any idea how your identity got compromised?”
“None,” you answer honestly, disappointed in yourself for not only failing to complete your mission cleanly, but also for putting the people you’ve come to care about at risk. “What’s the exfil plan here?”
“Y/L/N? It’s Carmichael.” Oh joy. “Proceed with the op as planned, but accelerate the execution phase to tonight. Bring her into custody and then report to HQ tomorrow morning so we can figure out how exactly you fucked this up.”
“But she knows who I am, knows what I look like.”
“Are you saying you can’t get it done?”
“No, I-” you pinch the bridge of your nose and release your breath in a slow exhale. “I’ll figure it out and report back to you when I have her detained.”
“Good girl.”
———
You slip back into the apartment just after three in the morning, peeling off your jumper soaked through with blood, sweat, and rain, slumping against the door with a sigh. After a few breaths to compose yourself, you shuffle further into the apartment and are met with Court sprawled across the small couch, his arm draped over his forehead. He mumbles something under his breath and you move closer. “What’d you say?”
“Asked if another cunt was successfully incapacitated,” he repeats, the shock of his question and impeccable memory causing an incredulous giggle to escape your lips.
“Fuck,” you hiss through your laughter, instinctively grabbing at your smarting ribs. “That bitch is lucky my directive was to have her detained. Otherwise she’d be six feet under with her boy toys right now.”
You lift his legs up, easing your sore body onto the couch before laying his legs back down across your lap. “You don’t have to go, Y/N.”
Your eyes dart to meet his baby blues, piercing through your soul in the darkness. “I didn’t say-”
“You made up your mind this morning. I could hear it in your voice.”
“Courtland,” you sigh, pushing your hair off of your sweaty face.
“Don’t government name me,” he grumbles, moving to sit up and pull your head against his chest. You’re shaking, but you can’t pinpoint whether it’s from exhaustion, fear, or a mix of both. “You’re a damn good agent, but you don’t have to be a CIA pawn for the rest of your life. You can go into private work, too.” His fingers trace a gentle pattern along your spine, encouraging you to take as deep of a breath as you can muster in your present condition.
“I haven’t done my time, haven’t helped enough people. I mean, Christ, Court, you were in the game for how many years and they still wouldn’t-”
“Hey,” he cuts off your panicked rambling with a gentle brush of his lips against yours. “You know there’s no contingency plan for people like us. You either kill the bad guys or you die trying, and that used to be good enough for me until…” He trails off, looking toward the door Claire is fast asleep behind.
“If anything, anything had happened to you two because of me-”
“I know,” he placates softly.
You lick your lips and open your mouth to speak before thinking better of repeating your confession from the morning out loud. Instead, you let Court guide your body down on top of his, snuggling against the warmth of his skin and allowing the steady rise and fall of his chest to lull you into a much needed rest. “In the morning, you’ll go to your debrief, and then we’ll figure this out,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to the crown of your head. “And kid?” You stay quiet, trying to control your breathing despite the fact you’re sure he can feel your heart pounding through your chest in anticipation of what he’s about to say. “For the record, I feel the same damn way about you.”
#sierra six#sierra six x reader#sierra six x female reader#sierra six x y/n#sierra six smut#court gentry#courtland gentry#court gentry x reader#courtland gentry x reader#courtland gentry x y/n#the gray man#court gentry x y/n#sierra six x you#court gentry x you#court gentry x female reader
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After seeing some of my friends getting absolutely shafted by Etsy and losing their shops in the blink of an eye, I'm starting to wonder about opening up a separate shop on another platform just in case.
I'm working on new stuff for the shop, dw! But I wanna make sure i'm able to still continue to safely make new stuff and sell without as much risk. I'll still keep my Etsy, but I'm gonna def have a separate shop in the future as a backup.
With that being said, do you guys have a preference as to where I should go? The main two for me are Big Cartel, and Kofi, but there's also Storenvy and Shopify, as well as other possible sites.
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Wanted pt. 2
Chapter 1:
Sorry for the wait, I've haven't been active lately but i will try to keep it up, I'm not sure if I'll leave this story here? Or made a extra part. This is just Smut. 🌶️
English is not my first language so please correct me if something's wrong🫶
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The taller woman raised an eyebrow as she smirked at me.
´´Well you're an obedient girl, i'll give you that…´´
I look at the woman again from the reflection in front of me, I'm sure I gave her my most terrified look because she sighed.
``Calm down girl, i don't bite… unless you provoke me to.´´ The woman whisper into my ear, as she slowly losses the grip on me and takes her hand off my mouth, i quickly turn to face her as i take a few steps back and hit the kitchen counter, i supported myself with my hands on the counter, as i tried to get my breathing steady, my chest falling up and down. I finally have the courage to speak.
``W-Who are you? What are you doing in my house–´´ I got cut off by the woman interrupting me.
As the woman drifts slowly towards the other side of the kitchen counter as she leaned to it looking at me, the moon shining through the window hitting her face, made me realize something… something that made my skin crawl, she looked way to much like Valeria as Valeria Garza or el sin nombre, a cold shiver hit my spine as i shake the thought of.
``I think you already know that dont you?´´ Valeria smirks, as she walks towards me and leans close to my face.
´´So pretty girl… are you all bark no bite? I heard you on your little chat...´´ Valeria whispered into my ear, as she grabbed my waist, her cold hand made me shiver through my night clothes, a black silky tank top and some cream comfy pants. My eyes widened at what she said, suddenly I felt my face hot and a faint tint of pink appear on my cheeks.
´´I-Im…not sure what you're talking about– you should go, i don't want any trouble.´´ I said to Valeria as i look up at her but quickly took my gaze off her, her gaze on me was way to powerful, to determined on what she was doing. She grins once again as she grips my chin to force me to look at her, she makes a clicking sound with her tongue as she shakes her head.
´´No chula, i'm not going anywhere.¨ Valeria said as her grip on me tightened, she looked me up and down as she chuckled. Whatever was going in her mind I wasn't staying to find out, but her other hand gripping my waist pressing me on the counter prevented me from moving.
``How about we make a deal? Huh?.´´ Valeria said, I chuckled nervously.
´´I don't think making a deal with El Sin Nombre worked for your dead enemies, didn't it?.´´ I said.
´´Smart girl..´´ Valeria said with a cocky grin.
´`in this case is not essentially cartel business, so i can guarantee you're not dying…´´ Valeria said with her predatory gaze on me, i gulped.
´´I don't think i have an option´´ I said nervously, valeria smiled at me as she loses the grip on me and took a step back, but close enough still to feel her hot breathing.
´´Im staying long enough until my men can escort me out safely…´´Valeria said
´´And what do I get in return?´´ I said, Valeria grins as the way she looks at me changes, her hand rested in my cheek, she brushes off the hair on my face, she leans to me.
``Lets say ill fuck you, but not in your sleep so you can remeber it´´ Valeria boldly said to my face, well now i know she listen to my whole chat on the phone, oh my god, i mean it wasnt that bad, isnt it?.
Nothing bad was turning out of this, I let her stay for a day or two and I got the special treatment, not that I was needy about it but its been months since I actually slept with someone, 3 years since my last relationship, and small situationships i've had through the month but nothing serious.
I blushed at how bold Valeria was being.
``I– theres no need for that, and please forget everything i said in that call´´i said embarrassed, i tired to get away from valeria walking away but she grab my arm.
´´Not so fast, gatita´´ Valeria said, that made me shiver, which she noticed.
Valeria leaned into me gazing at my body until she stopped at my face and kissed me, deeply and rough. I kissed her back, as she grabbed me by the waist and pushed me into the wall, i gasp but she didn't seem to care as she kept kissing me, this time she bit my bottom lip, forcing me to open my lips as she introduced her tongue in me, i melted into her touch rough but steady, my hands rested in her shoulders keeping her closer to me, she came down to the crook of my neck as i felt her sloppy wet kisses as she whispers.
´´We should take this somewhere comfortable don't you think, chula?´´ Valeria whispered into my ear, as I shamelessly nodded, I couldn't speak. I led her upstairs as I opened the door to my room, a queen size bed with white fluffy sheets, a big window in the balcony where you could see the huge moon from inside, dim lights in the room, a faint scent of Vanilla from a candle I had lit up a few hours ago.
As soon as i closed the bedroom door Valeria grabbed me from behind as she turn me to her and kissed me again, she grabbed me by the waist and laid me into the bed, she was on top on me, her hands wondering on my body, for a split second i thought, what the fuck i was doing, but the thought quickly went away as i felt valeria hand underneath my tank top grabbing my breast, i whimpered, but quickly shut myself up putting a hand over my mouth. Valeria looked at me and leaned into my ear.
´´I wanna hear you… don't cover yourself up´´.
Valeria's lips met yours eagerly, and she grabbed you and held you firmly against her.
Her mouth moved with yours as her hands roamed across your abdomen, her fingers digging into your flesh.
"You are even more lovely than I imagined" She whispered "I can't wait to explore every corner of that body of yours"
She bit your lip softly and her mouth went down to your neck, letting her tongue explore you while she kept kissing your neck.
Valeria took both of your hands and pinned them down above your head, with her other hand she quickly took your tank top off, as she carefully touched your bare skin, tracing patterns in your abdomen, she made a trail of wet kisses from your chest to your lower abdomen just where your pants where, as she breath in, and looked at you from below, asking for permission, as you nodded at her
Valeria grinned, taking the hint. She slid her fingers along the waistband of your pants, tugging gently as she moved them down to pool at your ankles. With a smirk on her face, Valeria leaned down and took off your pants, exposing you completely. She ran her fingers along your thighs, tracing patterns on your skin as she looked up at you with a predatory smile.
"Now then," she purred, as you shyly looked away from valeria she had this predatory gaze on your body, as she grips your chin forcing you to look up at her.
“look at me, Chula” she whisper.
“Mmm, that's better," Valeria whispered, her gaze raking over your exposed body with hunger. She leaned in closer, her warm breath caressing your skin as she trailed her fingers down to your chest.
"You're so beautiful," valeria said.
as Valeria’s hand slowly trail down from your abdomen into your inner right, her hand massage your skin, as her finger crawls into your sensitive spot between your legs.
"Mmm..." Valeria moaned as she felt your body respond to her touch.
Her finger slowly traced the outline of your entrance, teasing and exploring you in a way that made you shiver in anticipation. "You’re so wet for me already.. perra"
Valeria watched carefully as her finger sank into you, her lips curling into a wicked grin when she saw the way you whimpered and writhed beneath her. She was in control of every sensation coursing through your body, and she took great pleasure in it. As you whimper into her touch, you grab from the bed sheets as hard as you can, the burning sensation hits for a moment until you adjust into valeria thrust into you. Feeling your body adjust to her intrusion, Valeria pushed deeper, her fingers finding your g-spot effortlessly. She began to thrust in and out, her other hand moving to caress your clit gently.
“hmm—v-valeria” you moan as she thrusted deeper into you, the ecstasy of the moment got the best out of you, as valeria caressed your clit with her thumb.
Valeria groaned softly, taking in the sound of your voice as she thrust deeper into you. The wet sloppy sound taking over the room. Her hand moved from your clit to pinch your nipple and twist it playfully, sending shivers down your spine.
“Oh yes, Chula," Valeria whispered, her voice hoarse with desire.
"Give in to it. Let me take you where you've never been before." With each thrust of her finger, she increased the pressure, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
"That's it, baby," Valeria purred, her hips grinding against your leg as she took control of the situation. Her thrusts became faster and more intense, driving you to the brink of climax with each passing moment. "Cum for me, Chula,".
As for each trust this warm feeling between your legs kept getting bigger, as you grip into valeria shoulders and whimper her name, as you cum.
“V—Valeria" was all you could manage to say as you felt yourself spasm around her finger. Your body shuddered with pleasure, and Valeria could feel the warmth of your cum seeping onto her hand. She continued to thrust, drawing out every last drop of pleasure from you. Feeling our body tense and tremble beneath her, Valeria smiled in satisfaction as she watched you climax. Your walls clenching tightly around her finger, signaling your release.
Your breathing still agitated, your eyes shut but you hit your climax, as Valeria's finger retreats from your insides, she licks her fingers clean and lays tired beside you as you both try to get your breathing back to normal.
“There you go, Chula," Valeria said softly, her voice a gentle whisper against your ear. She leaned over to kiss your forehead tenderly before lying down beside you, her breathing slowly returning to normal as well.
#el sin nombre#valeria garza#valeria garza cod#cod#valeria garza x fem!reader#lesbian#call of duty#call of duty valeria#cod fanfic#cod modern warfare
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Just wanted to say I'm really happy I got to move fandoms with u. I found ur art of corpse and the comfy cartel comic and loved the expressiveness u had I those and now seeing u go from lindi to gira its almost bittersweet but I love seeing u grow ❤
awwww anon this is so sweet!!! but i should mention - i'm definitely not abandoning the stillindigo front. it's definitely my more...professional (?) side of my art but I'm not planning on neglecting it by any means!! bluegiragi has been a really fun departure from my usual stuff, fuelled by a brainrot that I never thought would last this long, and so i plan to maintain both accounts going into the future :)
#and i wont be deactivating once the cod brainrot finally dissipates#this is my fun account#id never wanna erase it#probably just move onto the next brainrot that arises#which tbh is probably gonna be ofmd s2#i drew nothing but ed teach for 2 months straight when s1 dropped#askbox#anon
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mama, we all go to hell [Chapter I]
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[AO3 Chapter I] [AO3 Chapter II] [AO3 Chapter III]
Sykkuno came knocking at his door with a disarming smile and too many baggage, worming his way into Corpse’s mind in a spiraling confusion of quiet affection and gentle madness. In a life where the scent of blood clung to him like the second skin, Sykkuno offered him a respite in early mornings filled with coffee and sleepy smiles. It was terrifyingly easy to fell in love with this man—even when the world fell apart, Corpse would follow him into the thunderstorm; holding onto his hand as if the madness and danger were solemn promises they carved into their hearts.
[Corpse/Sykkuno; Comfy Cartel + GTA-esque Sykkuno au; published 2021-07-15; total word count: 63,805]
-
It was a race against time the moment Sykkuno stepped into the apartment, shy smiles and too many boxes with questionable contents following behind him.
Lily had called him earlier this week, saying that his cousin-or-something-something was going to live with Corpse in the apartment they had given him. Corpse stayed silent the entire time and tried to convey his thoughts and disappointment through the static line. The apartment wasn’t exactly small, but he just didn’t want to say that he had turned the spare bedroom into his workspace and now he was too lazy to tidy it up. Where the fuck would he hang his movie-esque whiteboard with all the pictures and clippings of his targets, huh, Lily? Emma had taken one look at his so-called workspace and rolled her eyes so hard he feared it wouldn’t come back to the front.
“This is why Toast is disappointed in you,” Emma said, and gave him stacks of documents. It irritated her to no end that he wouldn’t just accept the files in digital form. He reasoned that it was harder to delete digital tracks, she hit his shin with terrifying precision with her thick-soled boots and shot him the most unimpressed look she could muster. “You fucking dramatic son of a bitch.”
Corpse sighed miserably; no one appreciated his dramatics. Although, to be fair he was also a hypocritical asshole in that regard. Emma had no qualm whatsoever in pointing out that a ‘workspace’ containing all the proofs of his job was just the same as creating a huge-ass track. Seeing now that he had to wipe clean his workspace to make room for Lily’s bullshit cousin, he could see the point. Still, his argument stood—why couldn’t anyone just let him be a dramatic son of a bitch with a cheesy, movie-esque workspace? Exactly.
“What kind of menace is he,” he said flatly to the phone.
“He’s a sweet kid, I promise,” Lily said, which didn’t answer his question and wasn’t much of an explanation. And then he heard Toast shouting at her to come back to the table and she hurriedly said goodbye, claiming that she still got important business .
“Important business, my ass,” he grumbled under his breath. He knew they were playing mahjong.
And so, he spent the entire week moping, taking out his target of the week, and cleaning his workspace with misery in every step. In his defense, his workspace looked awesome—menacing, mysterious, and dangerous. It was perfect for his job; Emma was just a jealous gremlin because all her work was contained in a fucking electronic box.
He also made sure to let Lily know how displeased he was about sharing his space with some cousin she had. He didn’t even know if putting two criminals together in one small space was the wisest decision. He took careful time each day leading to the arrival of the cousin to curse out the brat in every language he knew. He practiced the bitchiest glare he could muster since he didn’t want to show his face to the guy. Maybe whip out a gun or two.
When the doorbell rang a week later, Corpse was ready with multiple threats and a concealed gun ready at his disposal. Until he actually opened the door and met the cousin, that was.
“H-hello,” an absolutely gorgeous man at the front door said, an awkward smile and melodious voice destroying Corpse’s previous plan in less than a heartbeat. “Uh, is this—Lily told me I can stay here for a while?”
Corpse was well aware that he was staring blatantly, but it was harder than he thought to snap out of the trance. He quickly took in what he could get from the man, out of habit. Slightly taller than him, lean with wiry muscles, had a painfully guarded body language, couldn’t look Corpse straight in the eye, looked like a fucking fae with his fluffy tufts of hair and soft brown eyes. He would call Lily and shout at her for four hours straight because why the fuck would she put an innocent little lamb with him? Was this some sort of torture, a secret revenge? Was this because he kept her up that one night to talk about their lord and savior, Bingus?
But then again, this was Lily’s cousin. There must have been something about him that was not quite right in the head. Insanity ran in the family, he heard. But aside from several piercing holes on his ears, and the strange stillness he had about him, he couldn’t sense or see anything dangerous. His instincts didn’t flare up the way it usually did in the presence of another predator. This man’s presence was overwhelmingly underwhelming. Even Lily put him on edge with how well she carried the front of the unassuming, harmless girl the first time they met. This man might be doing the same, but either he was an absolute pro at it that he was undetected or Corpse was reading too much into this because he really didn’t radiate any threat whatsoever.
Lily did say that his cousin was a sweet kid, and oh, how it was true. He sighed and stepped back a little to let the man in. Maybe Toast suggested this because he seemed to absolutely hate Corpse’s gut for some reason. An exquisite torture of some sort. He had to keep his job away from this guy, and no doubt behave in the best possible way because Lily would deck him if he didn’t. Hard to be resentful when the guy gave him the sweetest little smile in the history of smiles, though.
“That’s your room,” he said, pointing to his previous workspace. He reigned in a flare of irritation and amusement when the guy’s eyes widened at his voice. They were so round in surprise. Absolutely adorable, 10/10 would put it on the same level with Bingus. Maybe a little bit lower since he was obviously biased.
“Thank you,” the man said, and quickly deposited his suitcase and backpack inside the room.
Corpse peered outside and raised his eyebrows. That was a lot of boxes. “You want some help?” he said, tilting his head to the direction of the boxes, and watched in amusement as the guy’s eyes widened again before a flush and shy smile replaced the awe.
“If you don’t mind,” he said with a little shrug. Oh god, he seemed like a gentle, kind pushover who talked to his plants in the morning. Oh god, Lily would flay Corpse alive if she saw even one strand of hair out of place on this guy.
He tried to banish the miserable thoughts by taking the nearest boxes and stacked two of them on his arms. They were heavier than he thought. What did this guy bring anyway? Bombs? Guns? Collection of plushies? He didn’t seem like an extravagant guy. He dressed in muted, calm color and simple design. He braced his shoulders each time they talked, and he seemed to withdraw into himself whenever he moved. Like he desperately tried to stay as a wallflower so people wouldn’t even notice him in the room. He was doing a terrible job at it, with Corpse at least. The cut of his cheekbones and the curve of his smile were distracting enough as they were. Emma would die laughing if she ever found out he was smitten at the first sight with this sweet boy. No, she definitely would. She would heave in breaths between her laughter with difficulty, and eventually she’d suffocate herself from the lack of oxygen. People had died from laughter before, he read it somewhere on Wikipedia before. He would bury her in the place she hated the most just to be petty.
He didn’t say anything to the guy though, afraid he’d scare him away with his train of thoughts. As soon as all the boxes were safely deposited inside the spare bedroom—his ex-workspace—they both stood around awkwardly, not looking at each other’s eyes. Eventually, the guy couldn’t take it and opened his mouth a few times, closing it again, opened it again, and choked out a, “What’s, uh, what’s your name?”
His voice cracked in the middle of it and Corpse unsuccessfully stifled his surprised chuckle. He wasn’t usually this juvenile in his humor, but today was full of surprises at it seemed. The guy looked away, embarrassed, so Corpse straightened himself and pretended that he was an upstanding citizen with a good moral compass. Unfortunately, his upstanding moral standing decided that being an asshole was the way to go. “What’s yours?” he asked back, complete with a raised eyebrow and amusement that he couldn’t conceal in his eyes.
The guy frowned a little, but it was quickly smoothened out in less than a second. If Corpse wasn’t so trained, he probably wouldn’t notice it. He had impressive control of his face muscles, it seemed. “Uh, Sykkuno.”
That was a codename. He knew something must be up with this guy. “Cool name,” he said, because he didn’t judge. He willingly called himself Corpse, after all.
The guy rubbed the back of his neck, mulling over something for a second. “I don’t use my real name anymore,” he said then, and there was a tinge of melancholy in his voice.
Corpse backed the fuck off from the dangerous territory. Lily was a dangerous woman when she wanted to be. Prying into Sykkuno’s personal life was a step closer to Corpse’s head hung on the gallows. He nodded, because he understood the sentiment. “Hey, it’s cool. You don’t have to explain anything if you’re not comfortable with it. I don’t use my real name either.”
Sykkuno peered at him from beneath his fringe. He assessed Corpse for a moment, before nodding, a small smile already back on his lips. “What’s yours then?”
He considered lying. Sykkuno didn’t look, and feel, like someone who worked in the same vein that Corpse and Lily did. But there was always a possibility that he had heard of him. Although to find out about his name, Sykkuno had to be pretty engaged with the higher ladder in the underground scene—which was an unlikely possibility at this moment. Besides, the whole Cartel called him Corpse and this was Lily’s cousin; she probably told him already.
No, it was a lie. It was just hard to not immediately answer with the truth in the face of Sykkuno’s seeking eyes. He felt like he might be weighed down by the guilt if Sykkuno found out he was lying since the get go and gave him a disappointed face. Which was ridiculous since Corpse protected himself from prying eyes either by lying or killing.
He sighed. He read too much into this. “I’m Corpse,” he said, because Sykkuno probably would think that he was some sort of edgelord instead of an enforcer who did dirty jobs for the Cartel.
Sykkuno blinked several times, disbelief in his face as Corpse as expected. He didn’t say anything about it however. A sweet kid, indeed. “Okay,” he said instead, and extended his hand with a pretty smile that reminded Corpse of a sunny morning without work. “It’s nice to meet you, Corpse.”
He took the hand a tad slower, surprised at finding the calluses on Sykkuno’s palm and how firm his grip was. The handshake was warm and brief. Corpse nodded at him, “Likewise, Sykkuno.”
Sykkuno gave him one last smile and loosened the grip to pull his hand back. Corpse still felt the rough palm against his own, the feel of slender fingers between his. They went back to standing awkwardly in the room, and Corpse thought he wasn’t capable of being this painfully awkward anymore around strangers. Generally, he just stood there and looked murderous.
“Do you, uh,” he started, already thinking that it was a foolish idea. “Do you want some help with unpacking too?”
Sykkuno looked surprised, a little bit pleased, but he shook his head nonetheless. “It’s okay, I can do it. Thank you for offering, though, Corpse.”
“Yeah,” he said, nodding his head several times in slow motion as he started to back up towards the door. He looked very much like he was trying to run away from embarrassment. Of course Sykkuno would like to unpack things himself. They met for all of ten minutes, and these were his private belongings. He wouldn’t want a stranger like Corpse to sift through them. “Yeah, uh. I’ll be—I’ll be in my room if you need anything.”
“Okay, Corpse,” Sykkuno said, a gentle smile on his face that washed over Corpse’s embarrassment for being so bold. He seemed genuine enough in his reassurance that he didn’t feel too bad about it.
He nodded one last time, hovered a few seconds longer, before giving Sykkuno an awkward smile that he then realized the guy couldn’t see anyway, and very calmly walked out of the room. The door closed behind him softly, a click of lock, and Corpse heaved out a deep sigh. He pulled out his phone from his pocket and started texting away to Lily.
You won, I apologize for constantly rambling about Bingus to you. Please, take him back.
Lily replied a few seconds later. She was probably waiting for his text. He could hear her ringing laughter from miles away. The sadist only replied to him with a smiley face. He went to his room and flopped on his bed face first. Not only that he had to put up with his awesome workspace being removed, he now also had to live with someone who could make him all flustered and awkward like he hadn’t been for years . If he got out of this alive, he would make sure to worship the very ground Lily walked on. If he didn’t—well, Sykkuno’s gentle smile was more than enough to make up for it, at the very least.
-
Sykkuno, as he expected, was painfully, painfully polite and endlessly kind and Corpse was about to scream on the top of his lungs or just jump out of the kitchen window. He tried his best to make small talks with Corpse, although he stuttered and stumbled between his words. He didn’t pry when Corpse didn’t elaborate on some answers, and was terrifyingly good at reading the atmosphere and Corpse’s body language that he went back to entertaining the possibility that Sykkuno was sent by Lily just for the sole purpose of torturing him. Corpse was horrified to find out that he responded so quickly to Sykkuno the way he never did to other people.
Was it the pretty eyes? Was it the cheekbones, he wondered? Or was it just the fact that Corpse was a pathetic guy whose social circle consisted exclusively of assholes and crackheads with too much power on their hands. So to have someone on the extreme end of the spectrum was messing pretty hard with his head. Not to mention how fucking pretty and adorable Sykkuno was—bundled up in his sweaters and waddling around the apartment when he wasn’t holed up in his room. He seemed to be more comfortable in clothes that covered him entirely, because that one time Corpse came home and saw Sykkuno with a short-sleeved t-shirt for the first time, he squeaked and nearly fell from his chair. He figured that Sykkuno was self-conscious about his body, and averted his eyes, greeted him quickly and went into his room with his heart pounding harder than when he was breaking people’s necks an hour ago.
And so, because of that, Corpse now started to knock on the front door, of his own apartment for fuck’s sake. He prayed to whichever god that still listened that Emma would never, ever find out about this, or Corpse would be haunted by her gremlin laughter for the rest of his life. Emma would raze him to the ground and Corpse could do nothing but accept it because he was weak to cute boys with soft brown eyes and pretty smiles, it seemed. Oh, how the turns have tabled.
Sykkuno worked as a programmer, it turned out. He got this whole setup that one time Corpse peeked into his room when he asked if Sykkuno wanted some tacos. He wanted to stall just so he could see the entirety of the room, since the man never let him in after the first time. But then Sykkuno grinned so adorably and nodded with such enthusiasm that every thought that wasn’t providing as much tacos as possible for him flew out of his mind just like that one businesswoman that he threw out of her fancy apartment window on the twentieth floor. Both his sanity and the businesswoman commiserated in their gruesome, horrible death.
When he wasn’t working on his computer, or his laptop on the rare time he brought his work to the living room, he played games. Corpse heard him talking alone in his room, occasionally laughing, and screaming at whatever was on his screen. He wanted to be annoyed, because Sykkuno tended to be noisy when he was playing games, most probably since he was wearing earphones and didn’t know how loud he was. But he just couldn’t . He was endeared by the laughter, by the surprised and panicked shouts, and the way Sykkuno pronounced people’s names and some things wrong. He pronounced cologne as colog-nay and fuck if that wasn’t the most weirdly adorable shit Corpse had ever heard in his life.
He went out sometimes. On some days he didn’t go home, and Corpse would sigh and definitely didn’t mope around the apartment because Sykkuno wasn’t there to talk about whatever mundane things he had in mind that day. Or just him watching the television studiously while Corpse tried very hard not to stare. Sykkuno had this almost blank stare when he was focused on something and it painted a different picture than he usually looked like. He looked older, firmer, someone who was on the same caliber as Lily. He wasn’t as guarded, legs sprawling and arm loosely draped on his thigh. He looked more at ease and Corpse wondered if this was how he looked in the privacy of his own room.
In all honesty, Corpse would always put the possibility that Sykkuno wasn’t who he said he was on the back of his mind. Hard not to be constantly vigilant with his kind of work, even if he was more relaxed around Sykkuno than he thought he would be. Even he didn’t loosen his guards around Emma as quickly as he did with this man—but to be fair, that was because they started trading insults from the moment they met and Corpse found out that Emma was as capable to be an enforcer as she was a specialist.
And yet, despite the suspicion, nothing Sykkuno did seemed to be less than genuine. He smiled with his whole body, covered his mouth whenever he laughed, talked to Corpse with a voice so soft and full of consideration. He didn’t understand what Corpse was talking about most of the time, because apparently Sykkuno might be a tech-wiz but he was also an old man who didn’t catch up with the trend. It was always hilarious to hear him saying things he didn’t quite understand out loud just to accommodate Corpse’s lingo. He laughed himself sick that time Sykkuno said, “Oh, it’s uh- pog , as the youngsters say nowadays.”
Sykkuno was only five years older than him, almost in his thirties but he wasn’t that old yet. But he spoke like a ninety-five-year-old or something with the way he tested new words on his tongue and stiffly tried to use them on every opportunity he could the first two weeks he learned about them. Corpse was, once again, endeared. He tried to teach him every single ridiculous thing he found on the internet, and patiently trained him into the psychedelic world of gen z humor. So far, he didn’t succeed quite as much, but Sykkuno’s confused laughter was more than enough for him. Besides, he got to discover that Sykkuno actually had a pretty dark sense of humor even if he apologized profusely right after he made the joke. It was both alarming and hilarious. He might unearth the gremlin deep inside Sykkuno’s fragile bones one day. Corpse just hoped that Emma didn’t meet this pretty man and whisked him away on the journey of the Gremlin’s Great Destiny.
They hadn’t even lived together for longer than three months and Corpse can pretty much conclude that he was fucked. He tried to bribe Lily into moving either him or Sykkuno out of the apartment, but she just raised her delicate eyebrows at him.
“You don’t mean that,” she said.
“No, I don’t,” Corpse replied instantly, nodding and looking miserable all the same. He wanted Sykkuno to stay there forever, but then again he was going to lose his mind if he had to deal with anymore gentle smiles in the morning and lovingly prepared frozen food that Sykkuno called breakfast.
Lily stared at him for a moment before she started laughing hysterically, right in front of his salad. No, he was literally eating salad and he was pretty sure some of her spit got into it. He wisely pushed the bowl of salad away and sighed, rubbing the bunny mask he usually wore at work. He had never revealed his face to Sykkuno this far, and the man seemed to understand his reluctance to do so. He respected Corpse’s boundaries the way that Corpse accommodated Sykkuno’s own privacy. He was just— so nice . Corpse was going to sob into his spit-flavored salad in the next thirty seconds if Lily didn’t stop laughing at his woes.
“Oh, Corpse,” Lily crooned in her sweet voice. “Oh, you’re down so bad,” she said, and faltered into her laughter once again.
Corpse would personally lead a riot against her one of these days. He could, but after careful consideration of Sykkuno’s feelings, good payment, secure job place, comfortable accommodation, and Michael Reeves, he decided to withhold the plan for the unforeseeable future. Instead, he flopped his head onto the wooden table; the ear of his mask flopping sadly with him.
“I can’t stand him,” he said, and meant it in the best way possible. Or, the worst possible ways for his heart since he was suffering .
“He’s too much for your cold, rotten heart?” Lily teased.
“He’s gonna run screaming and call me a creep if he found out I was thoroughly charmed since the start,” he said, injecting as much sadness into his voice as possible. “Or that I want to hold his hand while we watch movies, or serenade his terrible clothing style.”
“You’re right, that’s kinda creepy considering you’ve lived with him only for a short amount of time this far,” the Capo said, not unkindly. “But he won’t run away. Not immediately, at least. Take it slow, he’ll only bolt away if you rush it.”
Corpse lifted his head to stare at her lovely face. “You say that as if he’ll like me back. I don’t even know if he’s into guys.”
Lily smiled then. Something gentle, something Corpse couldn’t quite figure out. “Do you?”
“Do I what? To which question are you referring to?”
“Both,” she shrugged.
He thought about it. It really was quite rushed of him to claim that he liked Sykkuno. He was charmed, yes. But what if that was only temporary infatuation because Sykkuno was a breath of fresh air to his bloody nighttime activities? He did like him enough as a housemate and someone to talk to.
In the end, he just settled with, “Maybe, and not really. Never thought about it until Sykkuno, I guess.”
And he didn’t lie, either. There was just something about Sykkuno’s personality and mannerism that drove him mad with urges to hug or hold his hand. He was just a ball of sunshine in Corpse’s deliberately edgy life, and he wanted to pet Sykkuno’s hair until he fell asleep on his lap. He didn’t really think about liking someone since he never got the time. Between building a cult of Bingus Follower, working on his music, and killing people left and right, he didn’t quite have the opportunity to consider anything more romantic than finding the most appealing person in the club and taking them to a hotel for a quick fuck.
“Besides,” he continued, “it’ll be bad if he’s involved with me anyways.”
Lily leaned back on her chair, tilting her head side to side as if she was considering something. “He’s my cousin. He’ll be guaranteed safety even if he’s involved.”
Yeah, that was one thing he wanted to know too. “He’s not in the Cartel?”
“Mm, not quite,” she said noncommittally. That wasn’t a fucking answer and she was deflecting. Corpse was right in keeping his possibilities open about Sykkuno. “But he doesn’t know about your identity here. Even if you’re stupid enough to introduce yourself with your codename.”
Lily had lectured him long and thoroughly about it, just to give him shits than actual reprimand. Because he knew that if Sykkuno didn’t know about him, then it was pretty safe to do it as long as he didn’t give him the full alias. There were a lot of people who called themselves weird names, Sykkuno himself included. He also had a sinking feeling that Sykkuno saw him more as a rebellious teenager than an actual adult, and it made Corpse’s name excusable in his eyes. Hard to argue when they contrasted so starkly in their behavior. At least when they were in the house. He had no idea how Sykkuno was around his own friends, at his workplace.
“You’re so vindictive,” he said, narrowing his eyes.
“It runs in the family,” Lily said, then smiled ominously. “So beware.”
He sat straighter at that. “What,” he said. “What does that mean?”
Lily stood up and grinned like a witch at him. “Go choke some people for me, Corpse,” she said instead, and left him a stack of folders on the table.
He stared at her retreating back, feeling a creeping sense of horror on his spine. “What the fuck does that mean?!” he said out loud to no one, just the tiniest bit hysterical. Oh god, oh fuck, he was about to be found dead in his own bed by Sykkuno’s pretty, calloused fingers.
Which was how he found himself putting Sykkuno under intense scrutiny for the next two months, searching for any sign of gremlin-like quality. He noticed then that once he got past the shyness, Sykkuno spoke fluent sarcasm and beautifully concealed insults. It went hand in hand with his aforementioned taste in humor, and Corpse was just equally excited as he was horrified to see Sykkuno saying the most damning shit at the weirdest time, with a completely straight face, that he then soothed over with apologies and nervous smiles. He must have been really good at poker, with his wildly jumping emotions.
For the most part, Sykkuno endured Corpse watching him like a hawk. He just sat there with a polite, confused expression on his face when they happened to be in the same room, and Corpse tried his best to bore holes into the side of Sykkuno’s head. Maybe if he stared long enough, he’d find out what mysteries he hid beneath his fluffy tufts.
Sadly, that wasn’t the case. Because all he could garner was that Sykkuno looked even prettier up close. He wore thin makeup, and he was ridiculously good at shaping his eyebrows. He didn’t ask why Sykkuno wore makeup all the time inside the house, even so early in the morning. Corpse put on eyeliner and painted his nails because he liked the way they looked on him. He assumed Sykkuno’s reasoning would be along the same vein. If it wasn’t, then it was still not his motherfucking business. Just because Corpse wanted to know more about him, didn’t mean that he’d overstep his boundaries without consent.
He got Sykkuno to play card games with him, and learned that he was simultaneously amazing and shitty at it. He trolled around and didn’t focus on the actual game, but he managed to wipe the floor with Corpse’s ass anyway. Sometimes he did the strangest shits that could jeopardize his victory, and claimed that it was all part of his ‘genius strategy’. When it did work, though, he looked just as surprised as Corpse was—every single time.
“Jesus!” he laughed, covering his mouth as his eyes crinkled and his shoulders shook. “It works! It actually works! I’m a genius, Corpse!”
And Corpse would be trapped in the trance of watching Sykkuno again, smiling automatically as the man rode out the last bouts of his laughter. He definitely didn’t want to play betting poker with him, though. This man was far too lucky and wildly unpredictable. Maybe this was what lay underneath his shy, gentle persona. Someone who was insane enough to live with the fact that his cousin was part of the most feared mafia family in town, who agreed to live with a stranger that may or may not be a killer, who doubled so confidently when the cards he was dealt with were horribly bad—and still won. Maybe it wasn’t something so sinister as opposed to a bone-deep, easy going mindset that made him open to even the weirdest things imaginable.
Corpse was definitely reading too much into this. He should just learn to accept that Sykkuno was someone who could be a polite, gentle fae and the wildest jester at the same time, and that it doesn’t necessarily have to be traced back to the Cartel. He should just learn to accept that Sykkuno was terribly easy to like, and that was alright. There was no need for a concrete reason why he felt that way, he should just learn to feel it.
He once screamed at Emma when they had a mission together, when they were chased by the enforcement of their target and Corpse took her hand to jump through the tenth floor.
“You’re fucking crazy!” Emma screeched, hysterical and angry. “We’re gonna die, you absolute, first rate idiot!”
Corpse barricaded the door behind them, and they skidded to a halt near the window. “Shut the fuck up! We won’t. Maybe. I’m not sure.”
“What do you mean ‘ I’m not sure ’?!” she shouted, gun at the ready while a violent ruckus was heard behind them. Despite her complaint, she still allowed Corpse to pull her onto the ledge.
It was dark down there, and Emma was gripping his arm with sharp nails. “On three,” he said, and jumped immediately no later than the word ‘one’ could leave her lips.
“We’re gonna die!” she repeated, unbelievably ugly when the wind messed up her impeccable hair. “This is the fucking tenth floor!”
“I’m living dangerously!” he shouted back, and laughed freely when Emma’s eyes bulged out in a nasty glare.
“I’ll fucking kill you if we survive! Corpse, you stupid jerk!” she shrieked, clutching at him so tight as they freefall through the dark of the night.
They, of course, survived. There was a pool down below, Corpse remembered that. He just didn’t know if the trajectory would plunge them into the water, or straight to the side of the pool and splat themselves into a pulp. Emma gave him a black eye when he told her that afterwards.
Despite his claim that night with Emma, however, developing feelings for Sykkuno felt even more dangerous than any mission he had ever done, more dangerous than gambling away his life on a freefall. But maybe exactly because of that, he found himself not doing anything to stop the velocity of the fall once it started. He couldn’t see anything down there, how long he was going to fall, if he was going to land safely or shattered into pieces, but he was willing to take the gamble once again.
At the end of the two-month long scrutiny, Sykkuno finally smiled at him and asked, “What are you doing, Corpse?”
He didn’t quite know how to answer that. Not because he didn’t understand what he was referring to, but because Sykkuno looked unbelievably soft in the harsh kitchen light and he couldn’t be expected to have the full capacity of his common sense up and running in front of that . His brain just decided that it was going to permanently turn into a pathetic pile of mush in Sykkuno’s presence. He nearly said, “Oh, nothing, just admiring the view,” complete with totally suave expression, and the suggestive eyebrow lift. But it was fucking creepy now that he thought about that.
So, he settled with honesty instead. “Trying to get to know you,” he said, sounding ridiculous now that it was already out in the open air. Who the fuck tried to get to know someone by staring at them like they were about to plan some murder? Not Corpse, absolutely.
Sykkuno didn’t laugh however, he just nodded and passed over the plate of grilled cheese to Corpse. “Alright,” he said, placating and frustratingly agreeable. “Next time you can actually ask, you know?”
“Oh,” Corpse breathed out. He didn’t know what he expected beforehand. Maybe some screaming and fear and Sykkuno’s express request to get the fuck outta the apartment. But not an easy acceptance that made his stomach tie up in knots, and something dangerous flutter in the crib of his chest. He was going to go find Emma and tell her to stab his eyes or something. “Oh- yeah, yeah. I- okay? I mean, thank you.”
The man chuckled and nodded. He sat in front of Corpse, talking about finally sending his plants to the apartment. And Corpse felt ridiculously pleased that his initial assessment that Sykkuno would be the type to have plants, talk to them lovingly each morning, and treat them like an extension of his life, was right. He wondered if that would make him even more smitten to this unbelievable man, or just straight up make Corpse google how to be a plant, with pictures and detailed instruction—no hack, no roots.
He hesitated for a moment, testing words inside his mind, before he finally managed to say, “So… what’s your favorite bird?”
Sykkuno blinked a few times, before he laughed. The laughter was warm, kinda sounded like a chicken, but it was pleasant to hear nonetheless. He thought that Lily was right—but of course she was. Sykkuno wasn’t going to run away, and Corpse could still do this. He could take it slow, he could allow himself to be as dramatically whipped to this guy as possible, because that was just his life right now. It wasn’t a bad life, though.
-
Despite his religious belief in frozen and fast food, Sykkuno was meticulously selective when it came to his coffee. He had this fancy brewer that he treated with such care that Corpse sometimes glared at it in Sykkuno’s absence, a whole selection of coffee beans, along with annoyingly good cream and sugar to boot. The man was the type of cliché that could not operate properly in the morning without his second cup of coffee. Corpse actually didn’t know how he lived as long as he did considering his diet and caffeine intake. He would flit about in the kitchen several times a day to make coffee, and then take the whole jug to his room on most nights. Sykkuno was living even more dangerously than Corpse was. He didn’t know whether he should be in awe or fear for the man’s health.
Corpse had never eaten in front of him, but Sykkuno never seemed to be bothered that he was the only one eating even if they both were at the table. He still made Corpse his share of food and made him coffee that admittedly tasted like the embodiment of heaven. It was really fortunate that Sykkuno was never present when Corpse drank his coffee, because he would just witness Corpse nearly sobbing from the absolute wonder of it. On some occasions, he would admit to crooning and whispering compliments to his cup of coffee.
There was something soothing about watching Sykkuno preparing his coffee, only half-awake and still warm from sleep. His lips would be in this perpetual pout as he grumbled under his breath about something too low to be heard. His long fingers were moving with precision and familiarity around the kitchen; selecting whichever bean struck him fancy that morning, pouring it into the grinder, rotating the handle with practiced ease. He poured in the exact amount of ground coffee and water for four cups of coffee—one for Corpse and three for him—and flopped to the table as he waited for the brewer to finish.
“Do you think it’s illegal to chase a police car and accuse them of robbing a bank as the ultimate Uno reverse card?” he asked one morning, hiding his yawn in the crook of his arm.
Corpse absolutely didn’t want to know if that was a genuinely hypothetical question, something from his games, or just his own experience. None of the options would give any illusion of sanity to Sykkuno’s inquiry, however. That was another thing that Corpse learned to accept; that as much as Corpse said weird shit out loud, Sykkuno would say even weirder shit when he least expected it. There was one time he just came home, only to be immediately welcomed by Sykkuno shouting ‘ She’s a kid! Beat her up! ’ from inside his room.
“I think it’s an absolutely pog move,” he replied, and smiled from behind his mask when Sykkuno’s eyes lit up as he recognized the word. “But maybe bring a megaphone so you don’t have to scream constantly.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sykkuno said warmly, “thanks, Corpse.”
They had lived together for more than six months then. His infatuation was persistent and Corpse had woken Emma up at two in the morning on her day off to hyperventilate about his feelings.
“Oh god ,” he sobbed, and he could hear Emma rustling on the other side, imagining her immediately snapping to attention and ready for an abrupt emergency situation. He had to admit, this wasn’t the emergency she was probably thinking about, but this was an emergency alright. He should have called 911 along, in case he didn’t make it through the memory of Sykkuno’s absolutely, devastatingly adorable laugh that he forgot to cover one time.
“Corpse?” she asked, fear and worry starting to climb into her voice. “Corpse, what happened?”
He didn’t answer for a moment, mourning his peaceful life and last shred of sanity that went down the drain this evening. Sykkuno was hurriedly leaving for an emergency meeting, and he took one of Corpse’s hoodies from the stack of clean clothes on the hamper. He just realized when he finished putting it on, and noticed that it was bigger than his usual size. Corpse just stood there, a deer in headlights as his head was blaring sirens, while Sykkuno apologized profusely. When he was about to take it off, however, Corpse’s stupid lizard brain decided to kick in and he blurted out, “Don’t. It looks good on you.”
Despite his earlier statement of being almost late, Sykkuno sure took his sweet time standing there, face dusted with pretty blush and gaping a little. Corpse swallowed with difficulty, screaming terror inside his head. Oh fuck, was he too bold? Was that too creepy? Sykkuno used his mug sometimes so this shouldn’t be that different right? Right?
He was about to kneel on Sykkuno’s feet and ask for forgiveness, and to please not tell Lily about this because she’d give him shit about it non-stop. Maybe he’d move to the countryside and be a farmer, name himself Crops and chase kids off his lawn, wallowing in his embarrassment and regret over his chronic crush and how it made him even more impulsively creepy. There was no helping him anymore, he was doomed.
“I can’t—Emma, I can’t,” he said, voice rough and full of emotions. Gods, he hoped Sykkuno’s pillow would always be cold on both sides. The man deserved it for being an angel.
Because instead of looking at Corpse with absolute disgust, he just smiled so, so prettily and said, “Thanks, Corpse. I’ll see you later, okay? Bye-bye!” and was gone before Corpse could snap out of the impromptu coma Sykkuno had sent him into. He was left staring at the pile of fresh laundry, despairingly whipped and about to find a list of Sykkuno’s enemies because Corpse was committed now.
“He—“ he sighed, then got choked up in his feelings. “He’s too much, Emma. I can’t. What the fuck do I do now? He’s killing me.”
“What?!” There was more rustling, and he heard the clack of her boots. She must be putting them on. What a nice little gremlin. “ Where are you? Are you hurt? Did they intrude your house?”
“Oh, he can intrude my room just fine, alright,” he said, because he’d allow it. Sykkuno can intrude his bed just fine if he wants to. “I’m wounded, Emma. I don’t think I can recover. I’m dying.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. He could see suspicion starting to form in Emma’s head. “Corpse, what the fuck are you on about? Are you dying or not? Who the fuck are you talking about? If you keep talking nonsense, I will go there and shoot your head open.”
“Why are you so violent?” he whined. “Sykkuno is never violent with me. Except for the part where he’s killing me. With his smiles, his laughter—oh god, Emma, he looks fucking cute when he laughs, he sounds like he’s about to lose it everytime, too. I can’t stand this anymore, I’m in agony .”
“What,” she said, flatly. Then, she grunted and Corpse could almost hear the gears clicking into place. “You disgusting liar, you disgraceful cockroach —is this about your housemate ?! Oh my fucking god. And here I am, about to care for your annoying ass.”
“Hey! I’m a delight, according to Sykkuno,” he protested. “And I don’t lie!” he said, feigning hurt. “I can’t do this anymore. Fuck, Emma, he looked perfect in my clothes, I’m five seconds away from crying.”
“God, save me from dramatic bitches and their crushes,” she growled. “I hate you so much.”
“No, you don’t,” he said, feeling confident. And then less confident because Emma was an absolute menace when she was pissed off. Maybe he shouldn’t aggravate her so much. “Seriously, I don’t know what the fuck I should do. Lily said to take it slow, so I did. But he’s not getting any hints.”
“Is it Sykkuno who’s not getting any hints, or is it you who can’t give proper hints because you’re a constipated asshole when it comes to romance?” she guessed correctly, not giving him even a sliver of mercy.
“Fuck you,” he said, because Emma was always right. “It’s not like I’ve ever dated anyone.”
“Exactly,” she sighed. “You’re shit at this. He’s probably wondering why you’re staring at him like a creep and constipating whenever you try to flirt with him.”
Sykkuno was indeed a sweet kid, just like what Lily said. But he was also dense as fuck. And he did have to admit that he wasn’t doing a good job at flirting with him. All he did was swoon over Sykkuno, stare at him like he hung the moon, ask him about his day, give him stuttered compliments whenever Sykkuno’s insecurities slipped into the conversation, and give him whatever he wanted even if he only mentioned it once. Now that he thought about it, what with his brooding demeanor and rough voice and sharp eyes, it probably didn’t come across the way he wanted it to be. Easy to misunderstand his intention when Corpse looked exactly every part of a killer, and Sykkuno was too kind and shy to even comprehend that someone was trying to woo him.
He sighed, and Emma sighed with him. “I’m fucked.”
“Well, if that’s your preference,” Emma replied easily. “I can’t believe I fucking woke up for this. I was so ready to defend your life, bitch.”
“I don’t wanna live anymore,” he said, sighing again for the thousandth time that night. “I just wanna shrivel up and be Sykkuno’s coffee brewer. Or his plants. Whichever. He loves them so much, I think he’s gonna go feral if someone touches them. I don’t think I mind seeing him like that. It’ll be absolutely glorious, except that he’s also gonna be distressed and I don’t want that.”
There was a light thump as Emma was likely lying back to her bed, regretting her life choices that led her into befriending Corpse. “You’re pathetic,” she told him gently. “Buy him some plants or coffee beans. Take him out for lunch or dinner. Actually compliment him properly instead of screaming about how cute he is inside your head. Don’t die before you can profess your undying love, and if you call me in the middle of the night for this fucking bullshit again, I’ll start a manhunt for your soul.”
He listened and believed every single one of her threats, mostly because she was capable of carrying them out. “Wow, I will kill the president for you.”
“I can do that myself, but thanks,” he could hear the smile in her voice now. “I still think your ‘workspace’ is shit.”
“Fuck you. Heartless bitch.”
But he took her suggestion to heart. When Sykkuno was back, looking tired and satisfied, a glint in his eyes that for some reason made Corpse’s instinct flare to life, he greeted him and asked if he wanted something for breakfast. Corpse couldn’t cook for shit. Sykkuno was only slightly better at it. But there was the wonder of takeout and online delivery.
“Mm,” the man sighed, comfortably snuggling into the couch with one of his plushies. That was another thing Corpse got right. Sykkuno had plushies, a whole barrage of them. He didn’t see it himself, but Sykkuno showed him pictures of his collection, and some of them had migrated into the living room as well. “Maybe some waffles. A lot of whipped cream, strawberries? We can order from the coffee shop nearby. Uh, some coffee?”
“You mean three cups of coffee?” he teased, but whipped out his phone to order some waffles anyway. He stopped then. “Do you wanna order some coffee or do you wanna make some?”
Sykkuno flopped—there was no other word to describe it, he just slowly, lazily flopped onto his stomach like a boneless seal—and smiled softly at him. Like he was deciding something, and it pleased him a lot. It sent a pleasant jolt to Corpse’s chest. “I was thinking, maybe you can make the coffee?”
Corpse suddenly had an out-of-the-body experience right there and then. He thought back to what he said last night. How Sykkuno probably wouldn’t allow anyone to touch his coffee brewer and plants, and here he was, allowing Corpse to do just that. Was it too soon to pick the rings?
“Oh,” he breathed out. “Okay- okay. Which- which one would you like today?”
They moved to the kitchen, and it was kind of weird to be the one standing over the brewer while Sykkuno sleepily watched him. He was still wearing Corpse’s hoodie, and it wasn’t making the situation any better. He wanted to scream and bite his fist, but he just set to work after making sure he got their address right on the delivery app. He remembered Sykkuno’s movement, and even if his were a lot stiffer and stilted than Sykkuno’s, the man didn’t say anything.
He gave Sykkuno the coffee in his mug, feeling daring and bold. He was committed to this now. No take backs, no cold feet. He waited with nervous anticipation as Sykkuno sipped his hot coffee like it was a cold juice in the middle of a sunny day, wondered how the hell he hadn’t burned his tongue yet, and let out a relieved sigh when the man smiled.
“Too much water,” he said then, and Corpse’s face fell. It must have shown in his eyes, because Sykkuno laughed and reached over to pat his back. “You can practice more.”
Corpse took a second longer to realize what that meant. “You- you’ll let me do it? It might take me a while to get it right, the way you like it.”
Sykkuno shrugged, downing half of his mug with ease. “We have time. Also, I’ll wash your hoodie real quick, okay? Thanks again for lending me this, Corpse.”
He gulped, thought about it, breathed in and out, and thought about it again. In the end, he said, “You can keep it.”
That stopped Sykkuno. He blinked several times, soft eyes suddenly sharp in the early morning light, and Corpse saw the similarity between Lily and Sykkuno. They both had this searching look that made people apprehensive and nervous, as if they could reach into your mind the gentlest way possible, and leave a devastating wreck behind. He stood still, feeling very much like he was glimpsing into the world of another hunter and wondered not for the first time what Lily really meant when she said that Sykkuno wasn’t quite a part of Comfy Cartel. It wasn’t an exact confirmation.
Finally, Sykkuno nodded, a sweet smile already in place and Corpse felt like it was safe to move again. “Okay then. Thank you, Corpse.”
Feeling brave, and maybe exhilarated because he had seen something different than the sweet, gentle Sykkuno, Corpse said, “You can wear any of my clothes, anytime. Or take any of them.”
The man nodded again, and grinned. “Maybe not the underwear, though.”
“Oh- oh, yeah,” he stuttered, horrified to find out that he was about to blush like a teenager. Was it bad that he liked the image of Sykkuno in his clothes, without the underwear, very much? Oh god, he was a teenager. A hormonal teenager. What the fuck. He felt so inappropriate and dirty. Sykkuno just looked so pure and soft, he shouldn’t sully it with his lizard brain.
“What are you thinking?” Sykkuno asked, snapping him out of his daydream.
“The waffles are gonna be fucking soggy when it’s here,” he blurted out.
It startled a laughter out of Sykkuno, spilling some coffee on his chin and on the table, as if that was the last thing he expected from Corpse. It prompted a smile of his own, hidden as it was. Maybe one of these days, he could be comfortable enough to show his face. But right now, he’d just enjoy his morning with Sykkuno and his second cup of coffee, wearing his hoodie, waiting for their inevitably soggy waffles.
It was a peaceful day while the clock was ticking without his knowledge.
-
Corpse had joined the Cartel for nearly a year. He worked alone previously, as a paid grunt. The more he became known throughout the underworld, the more people hired him for specialized works. His work wasn’t refined and meticulous, not in the way Emma’s was, but he was efficient and brutal. It did the job splendidly and he didn’t hear his client complaining. Well, some of them did, but they couldn’t exactly complain anymore if they were dead, could they now?
Lily invited him, and Corpse still remembered the first time they met vividly. There this young woman was, sitting primly with her round glasses and pretty smile. She was small in stature, she put on the appearance of some aspiring new designer with her choice of clothes and hair. She spoke with a voice so soft and kind, and Corpse had never felt so suffocated than when her kind eyes suddenly turned sharp and dangerous as she handed him the card to get into their HQ.
He had heard about the Cartel, of course. It was impossible not to when it was basically the mafia family that had conquered the city in such a quick, brutal grapple of power. They had control over other cities too, and he had heard rumors that one-third of the continent was under their influence. Some said they were originally not from here, that they just came because the next heir to the throne was an ambitious, highly intelligent, and ruthless bastard and he wanted to expand their turf to encompass the whole continent.
Some of the names in the family he recognized from beforehand. Poki was one of the most known intelligence gatherers in the city; if you wanted to know any dirt on anyone, she was the one to go to—with an inappropriately high price, of course. Emma worked with her for a long time, and sometimes Corpse could see the imprint Poki left on one of the few she had under her tutelage.
Ludwig was a locksmith that claimed that he could ‘unlock any door; no proof left, no suspicion’ and he lived up to that claim. He was a humorous man with the most outrageous words just hiding beneath his tongue. He sometimes worked alongside Poki, because he could unlock people’s secrets as good as he unlocked a vault in a highly guarded casino. Corpse met him sometimes on casinos, and took their meeting as a sign to get his job done as soon as possible because even if Ludwig wasn’t breaking into any vault, he was bound to create some ruckus and while it sometimes served as great distraction, he was also drunk most of the time and would loudly call Corpse for some drink when he noticed—and Ludwig, no matter how inebriated he was, always noticed.
There were a lot of names he had heard of, but had never met personally. Rumors spread around, and most of the time, the rumors were deliberately spread for a certain agenda. He had heard of the atrocity and ambitions of these groups, and from his brief interaction with Lily, and how their reputation had preceded even Corpse’s wildest dream, he had expected something of the highest caliber for the new lords of the underworld.
At first, he did get exactly just what he expected. Toast took one look at him, and Corpse already felt like he was being taken apart from the inside. It was only years of experience that made him stand his ground and calm his breathing lest they smelled fear in him, and he’d be torn to pieces then. They told him they had heard of him, too; that they could use his expertise in the Cartel. They offered him more than anyone had ever done. Under the mounting pressure and intimidation that filled every corner of the room, and essentially everything that he could have possibly hope for in his line of work—security, good payment, organized job, crazy powerful people that could make his life exhilarating—he took Toast’s carefully offered hand, and bore the mark of the Cartel a few months later.
Comfy Cartel was everything he had ever heard of, and even more dangerous, even more splendidly chaotic—in the best and worst possible way. They were highly organized and brutally efficient, with top notch individuals on the high rank, and Don Scarra and Toast as the heads of the family. He quickly caught on that the heir he had heard so much of was the very same man that had greeted him the first time he went to their HQ. He could see how the cartel could expand so much in so little time.
Toast was, simply put, terrifying . He was easily one of the most dangerous people Corpse had ever met, and he had met quite a lot. It wasn’t in the physical sense, though he was fantastic with guns, but it was the way he thought, the way he analyzed and planned everything down to the last detail. He could predict where and when to strike, knew how to read people like an open book, knew how to taunt and to pressure them, and he was almost always right in his decision and prediction. He understood how people operated, and that was one of the scariest things that someone could have in their repertoire. He was the puppeteer with a lot of strings across the continent.
Toast was one of the Capos, and he didn’t really interact with him a lot. Corpse was an enforcer after all, he was pretty low on the ladder. He had his own handler, but for some reason, he kept answering to Lily. Maybe it was because she was the one who found him; he never asked, it wasn’t a wise thing to do. So, he did his job, came back to the HQ for some reports with the stench of blood still on his nose, and fingers not quite clean from red yet. They paid him good, gave him a place to stay after they deemed he was worthy of it, and even if there were people who still tried to fuck with him, rumors of his involvement with the Cartel more or less did its job.
People had always been afraid of him, mostly left him alone at bars or casinos. But there were always idiots who came to make trouble, thinking he was an easy pick because he didn’t have any affiliation. He didn’t exactly need the protection of the name, but he could admit that it wasn’t a bad thing. Less idiots approached him nowadays, and Corpse briefly thought that having Comfy Cartel on his back was akin to having a very effective bug repellant. Some still slipped through, however, but Corpse was more than capable of squishing mere bugs under his boots.
He had participated in a few gang fights in his early days. The longer he was there, the more Lily assigned him to highly dangerous missions, and on some occasions, even brought him to a meeting that he knew would inevitably end in a showdown. Lily wasn’t involved in any of them, and Corpse rarely saw any of the higher ranks fight, but he had seen enough. They were people who could survive even on their own, had made a name for themselves before they were chosen into the Cartel, and they could very well kill someone when they had to.
“If his left eye twitches, kill the woman next to him,” Toast told him in one of the meetings. “If he says ‘as if’ more than three times, kill everyone in the room. He got a certain habit and pattern to his speech that alludes to what he’s planning. If he did the second, immediately call for Michael.”
It turned out that Toast already had several spies in the gang’s ranks and had them planted some bombs inside. It was a very loud way of asserting his dominance, and to create even bigger paranoia amongst the gangs in the city. Plant the bomb, plant the seed of doubt; they would be headless chickens trying to find the moles in their ranks, and while it didn’t show much externally, it was enough to weaken them at several points.
“When you know precisely where to strike, you’ll just have to sit back and enjoy the terror in their eyes,” Toast said, smiling calmly as he crossed his legs and waited for the other party to show up.
As the negotiation went on, Corpse was almost pissed that Toast was right. There went the left eye twitch, and the woman was bleeding on the table even before she could pull the safety off the gun. The man was screaming and threatening Toast of violating the agreement of no weapon. But his guards fell to the ground, along with several thumps from outside. Everyone he brought was dead now.
Toast inspected his nails. He had very nice nails. “Did I, now?” he said, and lifted the woman’s corpse slightly to show the gun still on her hold. “Or... did you?”
They got him to sign some documents, and Corpse followed Toast out after they were done. The man, however, was detained by some guys. He looked back to the guy; were they going to kill him? Wasn’t that a bad move now?
“Not yet,” Toast said, as if reading his thoughts. “Our medical team will give him some… ah, parting gifts.”
It meant that they’d plant a chip and an explosive in him; constant surveillance as well as a quick precaution. Not to mention a good way to shake the gang if he were to be detonated right in the middle of his own people. Corpse had heard that it was Michael Reeves’ idea, the strange Capo whose division consisted only of him and a robot dog. He was the genius behind the quick territory expansion, as well as their technology. He was also batshit insane and made the most dangerous, highly unstable inventions that may or may not explode in their own gang members’ faces. He didn’t seem to particularly care about whose side was the victim, as long as someone got to explode from his tech. His inventions also gave a whole new definition to torture, and honestly, Corpse was just kinda happy that he got more variations to work with now.
So, yes, Comfy Cartel lived up to every single one of the rumors and his expectations. Except, for one, horribly humongous catch: they were all fucking crazy.
It wasn’t even the kind of crazy that made people tremble in fear—although they did that too. It was just the fact that these people were so well-respected and feared, very good at doing their jobs, and they were a bunch of monsters who were capable of taking the continent by storm. But on the other hand, they were just—just a whole bunch of fucking idiots . Highly trained criminals, too, but still. Fucking idiots, all of them.
Toast once showed up to a negotiation wearing a Hawaiian shirt and shorts, when the other gang was outraged, he just flapped his hand and went, “It’s not like I don’t know you’re planning to sabotage us. I just wanna say hi before I go on my sweet vacation. Adios bitchachos.” And then he told the enforcers to kill everyone on sight.
Or, the other time Lily played the piano, and Corpse listened attentively while he nursed his wine. Most of the other higher-ups were there; apparently Corpse was allowed to be there because Lily liked him enough. It started out beautiful and melodious, before Lily just went to town with the notes and startled Corpse out of his trance. In less than three seconds, she had started spouting shit like ‘fucking morons who can’t do their jobs right’ and ‘I want to crack their skulls opeeeen’, and everyone was listening without even batting an eyelash. Michael was jamming to it. When Lily started screaming ‘fuck this shit I’m done !’ with her whole chest, Toast wipe an imaginary tear and lifted his glass in solidarity. Corpse could never see her piano performance the same way ever again.
Most of his traumatic experience came from Michael Reeves, as expected. That man looked like a twelve-year-old child, and seemed to be as unhinged as one. Aside from the previous horrors told about him, Corpse could never forget the day he walked in on Michael considering his robot dog with such intensity, it scared him. And rightfully so, because the next thing that came out of his mouth was: “I’ll upgrade this shit so it can pee beer.” Corpse was always wary about any beer offered to him by any of the Capos after the upgrade was done.
Another thing Michael liked to do aside from upgrading his robot dog into an abomination was tazing Lily with every tool imaginable—a lightsaber, a spoon, an intricate tazing chair that looked like a torture chair, by her own piano, everything . The more he climbed up the ladder, the more the higher ranks favored him, the more he witnessed Lily’s shrill screaming whenever Michael ambushed him with whatever taser invention he got his hands on. It would be followed by Lily’s utterly tired, full of disappointed ‘ Michael… ’ while she sighed like she got a particularly wild dog biting her leg for the thirtieth time this month.
The higher ranks were also a fan of avoiding their responsibilities of going into meetings and negotiations with people they didn’t like, and instead set a mahjong table and played beer pong with outrageous bets on the table. Brodin had fantastically inappropriate suggestions for punishments and bet ideas beneath his calm, collected exterior. Corpse later found out that Scarra downed vodka like it was mere water, and he was fucking scary when he was drunk and angry. “Somebody’s going to be abused tonight,” Toast sighed, and flipped open his mahjong tiles. It sounded so wrong and ominous that Corpse slowly inched out of the room and went back home to repaint his nails.
If he thought that most of their antics were kept in the safety of their HQ, he was dead wrong. The first time Corpse saw Michael actually went along on a mission, he didn’t think too much about it. Maybe he just wanted to see if his inventions were working right; a field observation, so to speak. He should have known it was something fishy when Lily was there too, along with Toast and Poki. He finally found out why Michael was there when all the Capos just went to the balcony of the meeting place, and he fucking pulled out a bazooka out of nowhere and started firing fireworks out of it.
Corpse avoided what must be a very nasty left hook and had to get a grip on himself. If he didn’t focus, he was going to get himself killed tonight with a firework in the background. It was fucking hard to do just that when these—these crazy bastards were out there, whistling and shouting like a bunch of high schoolers on a field trip. Yeah, fine, the fireworks were the shit and Corpse had to admit he did stop and stare for a second because they looked so dope, but still . Lily was leaning against Michael when a firework shot and the shape of their family’s insignia was seen. “This is so romantic,” Lily said, while Corpse shot someone’s head open.
Toast, the very same man with terrible reputations and the apparent heir to the seat of Don of Comfy Cartel, just grinned and said, “We need some beer and mahjong.”
“We should bring some next time,” Poki replied, and Corpse wanted to tear his hair out because why the fuck would there be a next time?!
It didn’t just stop there, of course it didn’t. Corpse had come to expect the path with the least sanity when it came to these people. As soon as they were out of the building, cars ready for their getaway, Michael pulled out a detonator from his pocket, the unholiest grin on his youthful face. Before Corpse could even prepare himself, he hit the button with such happiness that it was hard to comprehend that he just blew a whole fucking building, and nearly killed them all if they weren’t far enough from the site. As it was, they just stood back and watched as even more fireworks shot out of the explosion.
He was the picture of unabashed glee and insanity when he turned back to them and spoke with such conviction: “I’m a genius .”
Corpse needed time to recover from that one. Not because of the explosion, since they were all at a safe distance from the exploding building, but because of the realization that hit him like a fuckton of angry bulls, unavoidable and could no longer be dismissed—these people were a bunch of crackheads parading around as criminals.
“ Oh my god ,” Corpse choked out in the privacy of his apartment, free from the insanity that awaited him in the HQ. He couldn’t believe that he, along with the whole fucking continent, was tricked into believing that the Comfy Cartel was this organization to be feared, while the very same people were dancing around in pa’u and doing a horrible imitation of hula dance right under their nose. He was never going to be the same after this. He needed some therapy, a fifty-year vacation, and a fucking refund of his respect because these morons deserved none of it. They had lied to him several times about being busy, and then had the gall to wave at him when he caught them playing strip poker .
He needed to lie down and rethink his life choices. Maybe he should just resign and start a new life, get himself a new alias, actually focus on making music, be a streamer or something. He heard it was the rave these days. He was sure the internet would eat up his edgy, dark aesthetic. Or maybe just turn 180 and get into some paranormal shits, exorcise people for fun or something. Or just sign up with fucking NASA and explore space, maybe meet some aliens on the way. He didn’t know, all these ideas sounded insane and yet they made sense to him now. Maybe the insanity had rubbed off on him. Oh god .
Maybe the cosmic realization broke his brain or something, because try as he might, Corpse still ended up being roped into their crazy antics. As a result, he was less formal with them, and started doing weird shit without fear of his head being cut off in an instant. It took less than a month for Emma and Lily to start calling him an edgelord, and Corpse had no reservation in introducing Bingus to anyone that he had tricked into listening. The crazy really was contagious.
“Stop with the bullshit,” Emma deadpanned. “You’re already bonker in the head to start with. You just hide it better. These people had no inhibition in their DNA.”
Which wasn’t wrong, every part of it. The Comfy Cartel was still the most feared mafia family, and Corpse knew they could make his life a living hell with a flick of their hand. But then again, he also knew that Michael made a pool of fucking disgusting slime that they threw at each other, and there was always going to be a grenade inside one of the secret Santa gifts. The fact that he got so used to it was both horrifying and hilarious. Emma was right. The crazy recognized each other, after all. Maybe that was the actual reason Lily hired him. He wouldn’t be surprised if it turned out to be the case.
The knowledge that they were essentially a bunch of twelve-year-olds still didn’t make them any less dangerous, however. It didn’t soften the fact that they were also individuals who had done numerous atrocities, and Corpse was a part of them. Somehow, it made something like pride and loyalty bloom in his chest. These people were crazy fucks, but they treated people who were loyal to them right, and they still had the time to be exciting and hilarious at the same time. Granted, most of the time their humor involved someone else dying or something exploding, but Corpse hadn’t had this kind of fun in years .
He was more or less welcomed to mingle with the high rankers, he still did his job with excellent efficiency and precision, and he was allowed to see things that he knew people in his rank wouldn’t be allowed to see without having their own eyes gouged out with a spoon. Most probably by their own hands while Michael watched, and Lily watched Michael with a Disappointed™ sigh.
Today, however, he might have witnessed something that he wasn’t allowed to yet. Or ever, if Toast had any say in it.
Toast had always been easygoing, with sarcastic quips and inappropriate humor ready under the sharp eyes and insane reflexes. But he was also very unforgiving and every single inch a heartless bastard that had won them miles and miles of territories. Corpse didn’t know why, and when exactly it started, but he noticed that sometimes Toast looked at him with something undecipherable. Something that raised the hair on the back of his neck, and switched his fight-or-flight instinct to life. He wouldn’t say anything, and Corpse wouldn’t move, staying still until Toast blinked and carried on as if nothing happened.
More than once, Corpse had thought that maybe he did something that pissed Toast off. But if that was the case, then he would be long dead already. Still, it made him even more aware that Toast sometimes did something just to make his life more difficult, intentionally. Like telling Michael to give Corpse hot pink guns that in no way would be concealed from enemies’ eyes; or sending Corpse to babysitting missions where he had to sit and listen for hours and hours to young, spoiled heirs and their associates complaining about their miserable life; or, on a more sinister tone, deliberately sending Corpse into difficult missions with people that Toast knew didn’t get along well with him. He was pretty sure that in some of those instances, Toast was entertaining the possibility of Corpse not coming back alive.
He didn’t ask. Because as much as he was familiar with these people now, how much their antics exasperated him, how lenient they were with his own antics, these weren’t his friends and these were still the monsters who could eat him alive. It was never a wise decision to ask something that had no concrete proof, especially to a higher rank.
Tonight, he got a glimpse of confirmation that while it wasn’t hatred that Toast had for Corpse, there was definitely something that he was pissed off about and Corpse was involved unknowingly.
The meeting room was generally used by the Capos, but since Corpse had more or less wormed his way into the ranks unintentionally, he was there several times. There was a lounge just outside of it, and Lily was walking ahead of him, steering left to a table and a stack of documents on it. The door to the meeting room was half ajar, and inside, Toast was sitting where Scarra usually sat. There was someone else with him, sitting at the table with his back to Corpse. Mussed black hair, teal shirt that he rolled up to the elbow; there was a helmet on the table.
He was talking animatedly to Toast, arms flailing around to likely emphasize his points; he was too far to properly hear what the man was saying. But something about it was faintly familiar to Corpse. He didn’t really delve into it, far too distracted that Toast let someone sit at the meeting table like it was something normal. Maybe it was normal for the two of them, because as much as they did crazy shit, they had always been appropriate in the meeting room; like it was a sacred place where they put their responsibilities and loyalty to the family on display. It was a place where none of their mundane insanity came out. And yet here the man was, sitting in front of Toast, on the very same table they had gathered on twice every month, the set of his broad shoulders relaxed and looking very much like he was at home. Like he was someone who could get away with anything, and would still be adored by the king. By Toast.
“Corpse?” Lily called out, loudly, bringing him back to attention. She looked annoyed, as if she had been calling his name several times beforehand, snapping her fingers in front of him.
Corpse, Toast, and the mysterious man heard her voice now. The man tried to turn his head to see the commotion, and Toast’s hand quickly prevented him from doing that. He stood up, said something to the man that he nodded to, face gentle and indulging. His face hardened as he walked to the door, however; eyes sharp and looking like he was about to shoot Corpse right there with the way his gaze burned .
Toast didn’t murder him, but Corpse realized that it was a close thing. He closed the door behind him instead. Corpse swallowed, realization coming clear and blinding inside his head. Toast didn’t hate him, not exactly. But he was pissed off at Corpse. There was- there was envy in his eyes, on the lines of his face. He was… jealous of Corpse? Why? He couldn’t even begin to comprehend that thought. So he turned to Lily, face helpless and confused.
“What the fuck was that about?” he asked, voice rough and unsteady. The intensity of Toast’s stare left him more than a little bit shaken.
Lily sighed. “Right. I forgot he’s coming here today. Sorry, I wasn’t really paying attention to that. That’s Yuno.”
Corpse’s brain came to a halt. “Yuno? As in, the Yuno Sykk?” he asked, eyebrows climbing higher and higher the more he thought about it. There was no way …
Lily sighed again, deeper this time, as if she had expected that reaction. “Yes, that Yuno Sykk.”
It took him a moment to realize that his mouth was gaping open, face unguarded in his shock and admiration. Lily rolled her eyes heavenwards and muttered something he couldn’t hear past the blood rushing in his ears. That was Yuno Sykk? The infamous criminal who had been going on a rampage on Los Santos these past two years? The very same man who took the city by his chaotic hands in a storm that they couldn’t help but getting lost in? The man who rose up through the ranks of criminals in that city out of nowhere with his impossible heists and absolutely crazy stunts on the streets? That Yuno Sykk ?
“Holy shit…” Corpse exhaled shakily, giddy and terrified all in the same breath. He felt like his legs were going to collapse from under him, all the memories of hearing the news and reading the details of the man’s quirkily confusing crimes made his head spin. That man had a long, long list of crimes just in the span of two years, and there were rumors going around that he had even more history before that. Apparently, he remembered with a hysterical laugh, Yuno decided on a fucking whim that he’d start robbing banks. Just like that, like it was something one decided so lightly over a bowl of cereal, like it was that easy , so why wouldn’t he?
Except that his heists were notoriously difficult in technicalities. There were people and gangs who had tried to pull the same feats and they didn’t finish it as smoothly as Yuno and his chosen affiliates did. One of Corpse’s acquaintances in Los Santos swore up and down that the man did it in record time, with terrifying ease—like it was natural, like he—a nobody that no one knew a day before—was built for it and could do nothing better than this. He was the new guy in town that somehow became one of the best, if not the best, hackers amongst all the big names. From mouth to mouth reports, the man was crazy enough to make people fear him, but also strangely nice and soft-spoken and kept repeating that he did all of those because it was fun , because he wanted to buy food , because it turned out to be not as scary as he thought. It was mind boggling; the way he spoke of the heists as if they were nothing more than a fun hang-out with friends. With a lot more danger and nigh impossible stunts involved.
“Oh no,” Lily moaned out, walking to the couch on the lounge without waiting for Corpse. “He’s one of those .”
“What,” Corpse said, snapped out of his admittedly fanboy daydream and hurriedly followed her. “What do you mean by one of those ? You said that as if it’s some kind of disease,” he sniffled, plastering his most offended face because Lily shot him a disgusted look as soon as he sat in front of her.
“Let me guess, you’re one of his, ugh , fans? Admirers? Crazy stalkers who followed every single one of his crime reports like he’s the second coming of Jesus? Yeah. Those ,” she clarified, enunciating the last word like it was a personal offense to her. Maybe it was. Judging from her reaction, she looked like she had multiple unwanted experiences with Yuno’s… enthusiasts.
Corpse felt a pang of guilt and smiled awkwardly behind his mask, lowering his eyes and accepting her accusations. Mainly because it was true. Though, he deserved some break, alright? Yuno Sykk was a well-known figure in the underworld; he sat on the throne so suddenly that everyone was startled by it. Some begrudgingly admitted their respect, some straight up despised him, and a lot of people were just in a daze of some sort. Corpse included.
He briefly wondered which one of those categories Toast was in. Yuno and he seemed… close. If the sight he just witnessed was any indication. For a moment, all thoughts of Yuno were moved aside in favor of reanalyzing Toast’s behavior. This didn’t explain anything about the way Toast sometimes regarded him, but if anything, he seemed painfully protective of the man to the point of considering a cold-blooded murder just because Corpse happened to catch a glimpse of them.
It befuddled him, and didn’t help him understand Toast, or any of this at all. Corpse knew that obsessing over it would just lead to his lifeless body on the bottom of the river. He kinda couldn’t help it. He had a habit of obsessing over things that made him itch with a bone deep feeling of restlessness. Sykkuno was the prime example of this. Though restlessness was not the only feeling that Sykkuno incited in him.
Happiness, nervousness, something soft that made Corpse want to sit quietly in their kitchen listening to him talk about that one leaf on his plant. Something fragile and dangerous that had taken a root inside of his veins; something that he wasn’t willing to let go the more he spent time perfecting Sykkuno’s precious morning coffee, laughing about stupid shows, being allowed to look into Sykkuno’s eyes as he gave Corpse a smile that felt like a secret, a caress so gentle to his heart.
“Well,” he started, shrugging in a way that he hoped came off as nonchalant. Judging from the narrowing of Lily’s eyes, he didn’t quite succeed in doing so. “He’s uh… something.”
She looked like she was about to chew Corpse’s ears off, but then she just sighed and flipped open one of the folders. “Yeah. He is alright.”
The talk went straight to business from there, and Corpse tried his best to memorize the layout of the place Lily wanted him to stake out for an operation the next month. Three months from now, there was a mission waiting for him in Los Santos. He had done some jobs there, and they weren’t particularly interesting or Important with a capital ‘I’ or anything. But he couldn’t deny that his heart skipped a beat when his mind went back to Yuno Sykk and the way he was inappropriately relaxed in the presence of one of the most influential figures in the underworld. He had never thought of approaching the man in his missions, because why would he? A job would require his undivided focus until it was done, and besides, they were on a completely different lane. Their preferred specialty in crimes had never necessitated them crossing their paths with each other. But the thought of a possibility that they might meet in Los Santos still made something twist in his gut.
“Corpse?” Lily called when they were about to part ways. She looked less severe than she was a moment ago when she explained each assignment in detail. But there was a look in her eyes, one that shaped her face into one of hesitancy and resignation. He couldn’t understand why she would look like that.
“Yeah?” he replied warily.
“It’s better if you hear this from me,” Lily started, and Corpse stood up straighter in apprehension. “Yuno isn’t tied to the Family the way I, or you, or Toast is. He works exclusively under Toast and him only. I don’t think I need to warn you about the risk of talking about this with Toast. You might already know that Yuno has his own affiliates in Los Santos, but his affiliation with the Comfy Cartel is only known by no more than a handful of people.”
He nodded, understanding where this conversation was going. Moments like this reminded him that the Cartel was still a mafia family with a frightening reputation, one that took over the cities with iron fists and no mercy. This was a family built by highly skilled individuals who wouldn’t hesitate to kill someone or even an entire gang to establish their power. Corpse, more than anyone, had witnessed and understood completely how dangerous it was to invite the ire of any of them. Specifically, Toast—no, especially Toast.
Don Scarra had his own reputation, and by rights people should fear the man who led these people as the head of the family. But everyone knew that Toast was the biggest force of the Cartel, and was well on his way to be the next in line. He wasn’t the strongest, wasn’t the most powerful, wasn’t the top of the food chain. But people feared him because they knew he could control all the players on the board and they wouldn’t even know whether they did something out of their own volition, or because Toast willed it to be. The uncertainty, the paranoia, the extreme pressure and sense of disorientation he managed to instill in every single person he met were the reasons why Toast would always, always have the upper hand in any situation he landed himself in. It was scary to think that someone could know and understand you so well to the point of pulling your strings like you were a mere puppet. The lack of freedom and sense of control would make anyone boneless with dread.
“I like you, Corpse,” Lily continued, smiling a little and patting his arm lightly. “I trust that you will be loyal to this Family. This is why I’m telling you all of this. Yuno is Toast’s black knight; unpredictable, vicious, insane enough to pull any mission Toast gave to him. We didn’t expand to Los Santos because that city is Toast’s gift to him—his playground, where he can do anything he wants, on his own terms.”
In his own terms , Corpse repeated in his mind. Yuno was a man that Toast valued enough to not control, to let him do as he pleased without any of his strings restricting his freedom. Coming from someone like Toast, it was something so enviable, something that no one was allowed to have. Not even the Cartel was an exclusion from Toast’s clever masterminding, maybe even more so because they were his Family.
Corpse had his own fair share of experience in the underworld, and he had made a name for himself here. He wasn’t a man who would tremble in fear in the face of imminent danger or death. But even he understood enough that the consequences of being on Toast’s bad side would be a worse fate than death. It made his breath stutter and his head numb from calculating numerous horrid instances that the man could inflict on him if he ever wished so.
“I need you to keep this information from everyone. Everyone , Corpse. Even people from our Family. Whether they already knew or not, you still don’t talk about this to them. No one can know the ties between Yuno Sykk and Comfy Cartel, or more specifically, the relationship between Yuno and Toast. Do you understand?” Lily said, stepping closer with determination in her eyes. And that, that was another thing Corpse couldn’t understand the reason why. There was something he missed, a piece of information that made Lily act like this, one that he was most probably not allowed to know.
“I understand,” he said solemnly.
Lily nodded, looking relieved for something that Corpse knew wasn’t his concession. He hesitated a bit, mulling over in his head whether he should say it or not. Saying it might land him in trouble and doubt of his understanding of his position as someone in the lower rank. But if he didn’t… it’d eat him alive at night.
“But…” he said, voice small and confused. “If- if I may ask, why- why me? Why bother telling me all this if this is so important?”
The Capo regarded him for a moment, then she smiled gently. “Aside from not wanting you to ask around about this and risk getting in serious trouble, I do admit I have my own selfish reason.”
“And… that is?”
“You’ll see for yourself, Corpse,” she said, already turning away from him. “If you’re unlucky enough, that is. Or maybe it’s the other way around, who knows?””
Despite the way she said it lightly, and the small friendly wave she threw his way before she disappeared around the corner, her last sentence made Corpse shiver in apprehension. It sounded like a bad omen, a storm on the horizon that he knew he wouldn’t be able to escape from.
He glanced at the closed door of the meeting room. He didn’t know whether Toast and Yuno Sykk were still in there. The meeting room had another hidden exit, after all. Toast was the one who told him about it, but Corpse knew that he was told not because the man trusted him, but because it was a test and a threat. There were only a handful of people who knew about the exit, and if anything happened, they would know who could possibly be the perpetrator amongst the small pool of the secret keepers.
He heaved out a deep breath, dizzy from the onslaught of information and revelations. He couldn’t let them get to him, or he’d be off his game and risk getting himself killed because he was distracted. He didn’t know how exactly he should act around Toast now, since he didn’t know how the man would act either. Toast’s gaze was still at the forefront of his mind, and he turned away from the lounge with a heavy heart and a sense of trepidation that fluttered restlessly in his lungs.
-
#video blogging rpf#shiki writes#from ao3#corpsekkuno#past toastkkuno#corpse husband#sykkuno#disguisedtoast#brodin plett#lily pichu#michael reeves#scarra#yvonne ng#comfy cartel au#gta-esque sykkuno#chaptered fic#mama
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I did it! That darn temple is all done!
And so is the things for Subira.
It took some doing because that temple sucks, but I got the treasures I was missing.
Seriously, who put that golden chappa there? I just wanna talk.
I completely overlooked the goggles too. I kind of hope Zeki does sell them to Jel because they looked interesting, and if I ask, I know Jel will let me check them out.
Zeki gave me three lucky coins, and the golden egg.
He left bite marks in the egg, which makes it even more amusing.
After that, I went and found the stuff for Tamala's potions. Is it bad that at this point her lying to my face doesn't even surprise me any more? She didn't need anything I brought her, she just wanted to see if I'd follow through.
Ugh.
But she gave me the potion, which I gave to Zeki, and then Zeki told me about the package I gave to Subira. Apparently it was a Flow-powered nightlight that can see through cartel illusions.
...and I suppose it's hypocritical of me to complain about Tamala lying to my face when I lie to Subira. I trust Zeki more than her, even if she says she wouldn't bother arresting him. She paid me for the work, at least.
In less dramatic news, more fun stuff, Hodari and Dad popped by again to help me set up a couple spaces outside for hanging out.
They're over by my guesthouse, because I wanted something there, and I really like how it turned out.
This was Kenyatta's idea, but since I wanted a new bathtub anyways, it seemed like a decent one. Once I can put up the house for my workshop, it'll probably get moved and redone somewhere else, but for the moment, it's pretty nice. Sit in the water outside and relax...
I wanted to put something on that table, but I couldn't find anything in my storage that looked right. Though maybe if I ask Auntie Dal, she'll have some ideas?
My new tub is less roomy than the bellflower, but more comfy in a way. And I love the colors. I wish the green was a little less the dominant color, because that pink is delightful...
And I have set out the rest of the plushies! The mini Maji is on my bed, as it's the best for cuddling.
The dragontide tub took up all my money, so I'm back at square one for a small room and a harvest house. But I'll get there eventually. And then I'll deal with Tish squealing about me setting up a workshop and wanting to help.
Should be interesting. If a long way off.
#palia#palia online#singularity 6#berry plays palia#palia game#palia journaling#palia journey#palia mmo#palia roleplaying
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|[Peer pressure]|
[Rae x GN! Reader]
Genre: action / very slightly angsty
Request:
could I request some undercover comfy cartel reader x rae? if that's okay!
Word count: 5K
Warnings: physical fighting, guns, shooting, hints and mentions of blood, betrayal, hint of torture (small), mafia themes
Synopsis: losing yourself in a job was easy when undercover, that is until you get a surprising order and meet a friend once more
A/n: Okay so I’m not dead, just very busy with uni. This took a while to write with multiple writing blocks, and I’m very happy it’s finished.
Masterlist
As a kid you'd loved reading, fantasy, fiction, non-fiction, the genre almost hadn't mattered to you, as long as it was a story of some sort, you'd been happy to read it.
As a teenager you had loved acting, playing a role of someone not yourself, imagining yourself as a character made up in a story, a narrative, not your own. It was a hobby, but you knew you had a talent for it, though without any activities to put your practice into, the skill laid dormant in the back of your mind.
Some had called your progression of life as 'going of the tracks', 'taking the wrong path' or anything else giving the same definition. Your friends became estranged, ties melting like snow exposed to a summer sun. They never entirely knew what your life had come to, and they didn't need to know.
By now, you were a different person from back then, quite literally in a way. A different name, different acquaintances and habits that were switched out like cards in a rigged poker match. In a sense your childhood had all alluded to this, a place where your talent would be appreciated and put into use. Becoming a new person with each job, becoming a character in a story created by someone else, following the perfect narrative that would lead you to your success.
Jobs changed, faces differed and to most of the world you were gone, vanished, maybe even dead. In the underworld it was different, regardless no one knew you, but they knew of you. Like a black hole, they knew you had to exist, though had never been able to prove it.
"Y/n, are you even trying to pay attention?" Toast's words were harsh as you looked up, meeting serious eyes staring into your soul. Often you had questioned who the real leader of the cartel was, Don Scarra or his right-hand man Disguised Toast.
"I just don't get it, I got back like two seconds ago. That job took me a year, can't I catch a break for one minute?" Toast rolled his eyes; undercover jobs were your expertise, so it really wasn't all that surprising you'd be sent out again. The one reason why Toast hadn't promoted you as the head of the undercover section was because the cartel couldn't miss you in the field.
The sole reason that your existence was one of the biggest questions in the underworld was what made you so powerful. No one knew when, or where you'd hit. They didn't even know the cartel you belonged to, or if you were a gun for hire, though that admittedly was thanks to Toast's efforts to keep any and all information about you concealed.
This job would be a long one, it was something both you and Toast knew, yet somehow it was all contained in the small folder in front of you on the table in the meeting room.
"You got back a week ago and this can't wait anymore, we need you out there covering our backs and there is no one in this cartel able to keep this up as long as you can." He was right, you knew that Toast wouldn't feed your ego like this if it wasn't necessary.
Silently you nodded your head, opening the file to see your own face, but with a different name, age and story. Toast crafted the stories of your identity’s; he made them come to life with the help of different sections of the cartel. He had a multitude of identities laying around, creating them through time and keeping them alive till they were needed and would be given a face.
It didn't happen often a job would entirely be finished, most often it ended in a faked death, or something to give you a reason to disappear off the stage. Last job, one of the smaller but fast-growing cartels was taken down, crumbling down on itself at your hands and there was no reason to explain a disappearance, as the entirety of the cartel disappeared instead.
Taking the file with you, you stepped out of the room, coming face to face with Rae as she was about to come in. In the cartel, during the off times you were actually there, you had always been the closest to Rae. She was the red string of fate that had drawn you to the cartel, scouted you, in a sense. It had started off small until eventually you had received your first job for the cartel and from then on, everything spiraled into what it had become now.
"Hey! I see Toast filled you in, I'm really sorry that you've got another job so close to the last." she looked actually apologetic as she stepped back to allow you to pass.
There was a shrug of your shoulders, "there isn't much we can do about it." she gave you a smile, your chest heating up at the sight of it. There hadn't been a moment where her smile wouldn't have the same, ever-lasting effect on you, and you smiled back as she passed you into the door. Maybe there would've been a chance for you, if only you didn't need to leave for a new long-lasting job the moment you get back.
In a sense it was ironic, how the same thing that had brought you two together meant your separation as well.
You left after that, there wasn't a lot of time to prepare for the new job you received, so it was important to start quickly. Rae helped you get through all the details, both of your alias and the goal. Leaving again was never something you looked forward to, after all these people were your family.
The slow knock on the door, despite the lack of footsteps heard in the hallway, told you who came to visit you. Your suitcase was packed, and tomorrow you'd head off to the apartment you would live in for the next while.
-
"Come in Rae," the door opened quickly and closed just as fast as she stepped in somehow her silent footsteps always seemed to surprise you, "what brings you here?"
She gave you a small smile, allowing herself to fall into the chair across from you, "Why wouldn't I come spend time with you once in a while, especially if you're leaving soon again."
One of the hardest parts of your job was returning from it, returning to yourself after spending such a long time pretending to be someone else. It was hard not to get lost within the character you played, trying not to do something you'd regret later.
"I'll talk to Toast about giving you some sort of vacation when you return, maybe we could go to Japan together? I heard from Lily and Micheal it was a great getaway. I think you'd enjoy watching the blossoms." You hummed in response, leaning back as she continued talking. It was nice to just be able to listen sometimes, and somehow Rae seemed to sense when you needed it. You were grateful for her.
"Oh! We should try wearing a kimono when we're there actually, I've done it once before while we were there on a job. Don't even get me started on the food, I'll make you try the best dishes when we're there, do you prefer savory or sweet more?"
-
Time passed quickly, and before you knew it the moment of your departure had arrived. The job started, and except for brief reports, your contact to the cartel would cease.
Within a few days, just as Toast predicted, you were contacted, and the stage was set. The job had started, no matter how many times you'd done it, you always surprised yourself with the ease that it took to slip back into it.
It started with some minor, easy jobs, being watched and staying watchful. Gaining someone's trust was an art in itself, but after having done it time and time again it was just part of the routine. Staying with the same people, shooting who they shot, and following commands.
-
It took a few months before you reported back for the first time. Toast wasn't necessarily happy with the slow pace of the operation, though he knew as much as you that quality took time. He was patient, most of the time, but the more time it took, the more opportunities would be created for mistakes. He preferred the ease of quick missions sometimes over the long games of cat and mouse other operations took.
"They'll do fine, I don't see why you're being so inpatient, that's nothing like you." Rae stood in the door opening, Toast sliding the file to the end of the table for her to take a look at.
Flipping the lock on the door for the confidentiality of the case, she read through the short and straight to the point report you had written, "What do you want me to say? They're good at what they do."
-
Reports came on the occasion, with continuously longer times in between. You had been absorbed in your work, slipping on the edge of a character and reality more often as time passed. It happened with these jobs, and though you trusted yourself to be fine, it still made you anxious inside.
Instead of laying low, which had been the plan originally, due to circumstances you had created a name for yourself here. Your reputation grew with the number of jobs you had taken care of, and though you didn't officially rise in rank, you rose the social ranks of the cartel.
Gaining respect and confidence as more and more time passed, reports were procrastinated and forgotten.
You had become the character in every sense of the word. Never had a job taken this much patience, this much time. There were no moments for recollection, no moments to doubt as the life of the cartel raced past. According to the plan you were maybe halfway, yet it had already taken you a year and a half to get to this point. At least 6 of those months had gone by without any mention towards the cartel.
Heavy footsteps reached the door, the knocking was hard but patient, and with your hands hand your gun you yelled for them to open the door. You had gotten home maybe six hours before, barely with enough time to shower, scrub the scent of gunpowder of your skin and sleep.
They had picked you up for a break in, nothing unusual essentially, but as you stood up you could feel your gut twist in a foreboding sense. Either telling you something was very off, or something would go horribly wrong. It was something that had grown with you as you raised through the ranks of the cartel.
Ignoring the feeling for now, you stepped out of your home, the location of which had changed a few months into your acceptance to the cartel as they moved you to a more secure area closer to the base. In the van, familiar faces awaited you as you had often worked with them in the past months. Explaining the job, the goal, and the plan as it moved, different weapons were thrusted in your hands in preparation.
It looked more familiar than it should have, though that should have been something you realized sooner. Not whilst you were inside, looking into a surveillance camera a mere millisecond before your bullet landed within, shutting it down permanently.
They never told you whose warehouse it was, not that you suspected they would if you'd ask. The unfortunate souls that worked and guarded the place found their fate similar to the surveillance camera as you went in to grab what you needed and got out. Essentially, you had only been there as a bodyguard in the first place, any and all useful information wouldn't have found your ears anyway.
-
"Are you seeing this?" Toasts voice was loud, growing louder as he spoke, Rae, Sykkuno and Corpse sitting across from him as he showed them the surveillance feed, your face looking straight into the camera before it shut down. He had paused on your face, showing them there wasn't any doubt.
The three of them nodded their head, it didn't look good for your situation. Toast had long been pissed about the lack of reports coming from you, and his agitation had only grown as they watched the surveillance of their robbed warehouse from two days ago.
They had confirmed you were still alive but at what cost? Had you turned to their side, left them behind in favor of a new life?
"It could've blown the cover if they didn't participate." Rae had done her fair share of undercover jobs over the years and knew the lengths one would have to go to at times to stay hidden.
"What about the reports then? They've missed two, at the VERY least." Toast was usually calm, calculated and one of the most patient people in the cartel when it came down to it. He never tolerated any traitors however, so if you were to leave the cartel it'd be a hard hit.
"What if there hasn't been time to write them, or no opportunity to communicate?" Corpse hadn't interacted with you too often, but he knew your skills, your reputation.
"That would be giving them the benefit of the doubt, but is that a risk we can take?" Sykkuno spoke up, watching as the other reacted to his words before continuing, not even giving Rae the chance to refute his statement, "I propose we sent someone in."
"I'll go, I'll volunteer as tribute." Toast glanced at her, raising his eyebrow before turning back to Sykkuno and motioning him to continue, "One of us can go, check it out from a distance and then look at the situation. If things have changed for the worse, shoot on sight and report back."
Toast nodded along, approving of his plan, "I'll give them that much of a chance. Rae you are not going."
"And why is that!" Rae was loud, standing up from the chair as she faced Toast face to face.
Toast gave her a look she didn't need words for to understand, asking if he really needed to explain himself further cause everyone knew what he had meant.
"Sykkuno, Corpse, what do you have on the agenda?" Sykkuno looked at Corpse who shrugged his shoulders, "More than enough, sad to say, what about sending Rae after all? We all know she wouldn't do anything that could hurt the cartel. She's more than responsible enough." Corpse nodded along to his words, before offering his own opinion "I trust Rae."
Most of the other members of the cartel didn't know about this assignment, so sending them would be more of a hassle than Toast wanted, which meant he reluctantly agreed to send Rae. It wasn't necessarily that he didn't trust her, he had put his own life in her hands more times than he could count, instead he disliked any personal connections to jobs in general.
"Fine then. Rae, this is now your responsibility." he looked at her through the glasses before pulling them off, "I trust you will make a good judgement."
She gave him a serious nod, signaling she would indeed take this seriously.
-
It hadn't been the plan; something like his could've never been the plan. Never did she think she had slipped up, dropped her guard, but Rae found the world spinning as her sight blackened. The ground was cold and hit hard, a dull ache forming on her temple as something akin to a chuckle could be heard from behind her.
She didn't think she had given any reason for the following that had stalked her around as soon as she entered the territory. Shrugging them off was supposed to have been easy, but people only added to the chase instead of backing off.
It was unfamiliar territory, and despite jumping over fences, sprinting through alleyways to take the fastest path back to her car, she found herself cornered. Though this shouldn't have been a dealbreaker, she was tired from running, and they were with many.
Her fists hit skulls, necks, unprotected stomachs, whilst her feet kicked whatever came in their reach. She started with a knife, though quickly lost that as more people approached.
Maybe she was taken down, but she took plenty with her.
-
It had been a year and ten months you guessed, you weren't even sure anymore, you had stopped keeping track. Times had changed, and so had you. Laying low had become a priority, with no cartel behind you and most likely a bounty on your head by Toast, you didn't have much choice.
Sometimes, you longed back to the cartel, to the place where people worked that had become your friends, but even then, any opportunity to report back was ruined one way or another. You couldn't even blame them for wanting to put a bounty on your head. You couldn't turn back to them with empty hands and jeopardize the entire job, but the result seemed so far away simultaneously, leaving you stuck in between.
Despite knowing you couldn't, you had considered just turning back multiple times, back to a place you could consider home. The cartel was like a family, and now you were homesick more than ever. Though you weren't even granted the time to allow your thoughts to linger on that.
"The boss has called for you." It were simple words, but effective to pull you out of the string of thought you found yourself in.
You hadn't seen the boss once throughout your stay at the cartel, though it was suspected as you had joined as a potential new member. If anything, it was weirder that they had called for you, as there shouldn't have been a reason for you to meet yet.
There had been no way you could have refused this opportunity to begin with, though the chance of it bringing you closer to the goal of the job forced hope to bubble within your mind.
You didn't know who had come to fetch you, but as you followed them deeper into the building to sections and floors you had never been before you did start to become nervous. Could you even fool a cartel boss?
She wasn't what you'd expected her to be, but so much more. Somehow, you weren't quite sure what you had expected in the first place, but with an electrifying presence in the room, the relaxed way she sat but still held so much power was enough to force a gasp out of your throat.
A confident smile played at her lips, her fingertips drumming idly on the throne like chair she sat upon. She maned you closer, and as if in a trance you did, stepping closer before she spoke up, "That's enough."
Tucking a lose strand of hair behind her ear, the rest of it is pulled up tidy behind her head as charms dangle from the sides. Maybe cartel had been the wrong name all along, it was more akin to a yakuza than anything else.
"You have been trying to join this organization for a while now, correct?" She spoke, careful eyes watching your every move, every reaction. Without a doubt you could tell she was in her position for a very, very good reason.
Nodding your head, you replied "That is indeed correct". She nodded her head along, carefully considering your words and forming her own, "Then, you must have suspected some sort of ritual, a trial, no?" She raised her eyebrow, watching your reaction with narrowed eyes.
"I suppose so, yes." A smile broke over her face, exposing her teeth as she seemed satisfied with your answer, "Then it should please you to know that we have one for you. Tomorrow you shall be taken to an undisclosed location, here you will have to kill the captive. You have taken plenty of lives for this organization, so I trust this to not be a problem."
There was a silence, and her eyes searched yours for an answer, "yes ma'am, I will not disappoint."
With the wave of her hand, you were escorted out, lastly seeing the glance of a smile on her lips. Back to the familiar side of the building, back to the entrance from which you headed home.
The night left you wondering for the next day. If she knew you had already killed plenty, then why did she think one more or less life would change it? It wasn't surprising sleep came late that night, whilst your ride to pick you up came early in the morning.
Hurrying to put on your jacket as you walked out, you hopped into the van. It was almost large, but it barely fit the other people accompanying you. In a sense it was expected that they'd keep an eye on you on the day of the trial.
The drive was long, a few hours at least, and as you arrived the people formed a formation around you. If you hadn't known better, you may have actually thought they were there to protect you.
The facility looked like a warehouse, and maybe it was even used as one. The walls were deceivingly thick, resistant to the average explosive you guessed, and unconsciously your mind began tracking down exit routes at the trapped feeling it gave you.
Leading you to a large room, where shipping containers were stacked and the ceiling was high, you had to guess this to be the main storage room of the warehouse. Some of the shipping containers were used as a wall, and as you were lead around it, one particular shipping container stood on the ground, its doors opened as small amount of light in the warehouse cast a shadow into the small room.
You were nudged forward, towards the container as the hairs on your neck stood upright, any and all alarm bell in your head going off at the situation.
The shadow into the container seemed to disappear as you got closer, and you could finally look into the room yourself. Deep brown hair, longer than any you had ever seen before, bleached tips as it hid a face you knew all too well.
She was unconscious, suspended from her wrists by chains stuck to the ceiling of the container. Clothes ragged, dirty, needless to say she looked in a worse state than you had ever seen her before.
Plenty tools hung around the container, decorating the walls in a gruesome way. Splatters of dried blood covering the tools, the floor and the walls. It was clear what would happen here, and what was about to happen.
Your eyes couldn’t be torn away from Rae, and your hand itched to the place where your gun would normally hang, where it was supposed to hang. It was empty, the man behind you noticed the movement as he chuckled, "Come on Darlin', don't act like their ain't plenty of choice already."
The decision had been made before the thought had the time to cross your mind, like the ripple of electricity in your mind went straight down, into your body, forcing it to fling in action at the split second, before being able to form a thought.
Twisting your body, forcing it to fall to the ground as your leg shot out, sweeping the male's legs behind you from underneath him before he had the chance to react, as you shot forward to yank the gun from his grip.
He didn't allow you to surprise him twice however, his boot making contact with your shoulder as you felt something shoot out of place.
The men surrounding you spring into action as well, two of them pointing their guns at you, one moving in the direction of Rae, and the other following you to the ground.
The man you tackled tried to hit you with the gun he held, the range too close to shoot at. The palm of your hand found his nose, breaking it on impact as his reflexes forced him to let go of the gun he held. The split second his guard lowered your hand found his gun, pressing it against his ribcage as you shot.
The man that had followed you to the ground caged his hand around your neck from the back, pulling you back as his comrades took a small distance from the two of you, not shooting to prevent hitting their colleague.
As he applied pressure, he crawled further on top of you, from your legs up.
Before his second hand could join to finish the job, you twisted your torso wildly, ripping his hand from your throat in the direction of his thumb, aiming the bloodied gun into the bottom of his jaw and pulling the trigger once more.
Split of a second later, another trigger was pulled, and as you used the body on top of you as cover, one out of the two was quickly taken out by another bullet leaving your gun.
On instinct, you flipped the body covering you in the other direction to cover for the bullet that soon followed, and as the last shot left your gun, the last man had reached Rae.
His one hand on her shoulder to keep her positioned in front of him, gun pressed to the side of her head. He could have killed her then and there, but you would shoot him and live, no he needed both of you dead.
There is the slightest movement, a lock of hair that sways in nonexistent wind, the glimpse of eye contact, and a heel that shoots out behind her, right into his crotch.
One last shot rung through the warehouse.
Within a second, you're by her side, hands searching for a way to free her arms from the chains, before searching the man behind her for a phone and dialing Toast's phone on pure instinct, hearing his worried voice on the other line at the sound of you.
An ambulance, without explaining anything, you told him to send an ambulance to the address of the warehouse, for him to come, and take the others with him in case, no- when someone would come to check the warehouse.
Rae laughed dryly as you fussed over her, taking one of the tools to cut through the metal chains, the cuffs, and catching her limp body.
Blood trickled down her face, and who knew where else, but somehow, as your eyes met hers, you knew the situation wasn't as bad as it had seemed before.
"About that vacation-" her hoarse voice rung through the air, a dry chuckle leaving your throat.
"Tell me about that later."
#mafia#romance#imagines#mafia au#crimes#request#Female reader#gender neutral reader#gender neutral character#gender neutral mc#action#offlinetv#offlinetv and friends#x reader#valkyrae x reader#valkyrae#rae#scarra#disguised toast#angst#fanfic#one shot#comfy cartel#comfy cartel oneshot#offline tv comfy cartel#comfy cartel x reader
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Crazy but she's mine ch11
Jackie woke up with a groan , she was sore , she was on top of ez , oh shit , she fucked him.
Without thinking her hand plopped with a small wacking onto the sleeping mans face.
"Mierda, nena, ¿por qué sientes la necesidad de hacer eso?" Ez said groaning , moving her hand from his and staring into her eyes.
(shit babe why do you feel the need to do that)
"We fucked." Jackie said blinking.
"We did." Ez said raising a brow.
"Fuck you." Jackie groaned hearing somthing from the kitchen.
"We already did that." Ez said groaning as she wacked him.
Putting on her robe she went down to the kitchen,Ez put on his jeans and followed after.
In the kitchen illiana cooked breakfast.
"When did you get back kid." Jackie asked as she saw the teen place three plates on the table , sally's bowl already filled.
"Around 6 in the morning , You two look like you bonded." Illiana said as Ez came down stairs.
"Nothing happend." Jackie said as Ez raised a brow.
"Sure so the house wasn't shaking like no tommorow god I almost ran back to Natalia's , you two were loud." The teen laughed at the two aldults who stammered out excuses.
"Even if we did , nothing would ever happen with us , We're not good for eachother." Jackie stated eating from her plate.
"I disagree." Ez said as Jackie pointed her fork at him , with squinted eyes.
"There's a party at the clubhouse." He said changing the subject.
"We remember what happened last time , and Bishop is going to be there." Jackie said pointing out.
"Miguel galindo and soledad , Marcus , the original president before Bishop , are going to be there , I would like for the two of you to go." Ez explained.
"Fine but if bishop even breathes near Illiana , it's on sight , and you can invite natalia if you want I doubt and kids your age would be there." Jackie explained turning to the girl who nodded.
"Ok fine." Ez said staring her up and down.
-------
Jackie went for a casual black dress to her knees , the neck line was a bit low , but it was comfy , black sneakers , not feeling like wearing heels,and somewhat simple makeup look.
Ez watched with a soften gaze , He was in his Jeans , a red sleevless hoodie , and of course his kutte.
"Quit it Ezekiel." Jackie said snapping her fingers in her face.
"Cant help it Camila." Ez said smirking and then raising a brow as she sat in his lap.
"Hurry up so we can go to this damn thing." She said tracing his jawline.
"Your a tease you know Querida." He said.
"I know , I have to keep you on your feet , I'll break your heart before you break mine." Jackie said as Illiana yelled at them to hurry up , followed by a small hi from natalia.
--------------
At the clubhouse the three were introduced to Miguel , Soledad , and Marcus Alverez.
"Wait he took the spot as President and not one of them voted no , and it wasn't even voted on , he just uncrowned you." Jackie said to Alverez in a hushed tone , Ez was at the bar with his brother , while she was sat at a table with Alverez , soledad , and much to his dismay miguel , yeah great going leave her with three of the most dangerous people in this damn clubhouse.
"Call it what you want , the only good thing to come out of it is spending more time with mi familia." He explained.
"And you a feared Cartel boss , ran from the police , also has anyone told you look similar to ez and angel , or really felipe." Jackie said raising a brow.
Ah yes Just Jackice chatting it up with three people who could kill her if they wanted.
She noticed Miguel tense a bit , and then excused herself.
Hope and Letty came to the party a bit later , saying hi to Illiana and Natalia and then Her.
She was At the bar with Ez , and also angel , all was going good , bishop left them alone , just nodding his head towards her.
Until a group , not Mayans or even sons , who apparently aren't on good terms , No it was The swole boys , and Jackie couldn't help it.
She laughed , she fucking laughed , because they had nothing on them , no guns nothing.
"The hell are you fuckers doing here." Angel said , thank heavens they didn't have enough to get drunk , suprisingly.
"Setting the recored straight." A guy explaied , his hair blond , eyes a light brown color , muscular.
"Who the fuck are you , the hell happened to the other guy." Bishop asked , Jackie guessed this dude wasn't the original president.
Before he could answer Jackie got up going over to the the guy , Ez almost got up until she glared , Miguel , alverez , and Soledad were curious.
"Well hello beautiful." He said , staring at her with lust , Jackie trailed her hands on his chest walking around him and the four other members "Innocently" as Ez clenched his jaw , this woman.
Illiana , Natalia , Hope , and letty were staring at the scene infront of them , as if they were watching a movie.
"Could I Show boys somthing." Jackie said , eyes showing a glint of mishief.
"A good time." One said , Ez looked like he was going to murder someone , if it wasn't for angel placing a hand on his shoulder , he would have.
"It's right outside the door." She said as all of them went out the door.
"There's nothing out here , when your in there." The president said.
"Yes there is , you guys." Jackie said waving bye closing the clubhouse door , and fucking locking it , leaving everyone dumbfounded,even the most dangerous.
The other four girls laughed out loud , shouting things like damn girl , and more.
"I give them a few miniutes before breaking down that door." Jackie says sitting by Ez.
"The fuck is everyone looking at , they had no gun , and all of them are still standing by the door like a buch of dumbfounded idiots." She explained.
Everyone grabbed their guns and pointed them at the door waiting , The four girl hid behind the bar still stifiling laughter , even when everyone of the guys had guns pointed towards the door.
Ez dragged Jackie into the templo , to the president chair , sitting as he pulled her into his lap.
"Mierda Camila what the hell were you thinking!" Ez exclaimed quietly.
"Fuck no don't yell at me for my decisions , for the last time , you . don't . control . me Ez , even if it was stupid , but those guys are fakes , just used by actual Bikers , to do their dirty work." Jackie said as Ez .
"Camila, estuve a punto de matar a ese tipo, aún podría."
Ez said with a groan.
(Camila I was about to kill that guy , I still might)
"Ez you don't have to worry abo-" She was cut off with a kiss.
"I can't do that." Ez said as She pulled him back in for another , Pulling back , he noticed her teary eyes.
"Fuck , lets get back to the party , im enjoying myself." She said wiping whatever tears escaped , Grabbing Ez she leaned her forhead against his.
"Fuck you Ezekiel Reyes for making love you." She said as He smirked.
"I Love you too Camila." Wincing as she wacked him.
"Fuck you , Now lets see if we get to shoot at some dudes." Jackie said.
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I finally updated lmao I need more Ez books ? any good ones , I can hardly find any.
Also the trailer ain't looking too good for him 🫢😨
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