#comfy cartel

[amugoffandoms]

MISS RAE? MISS VALKYRAE? MISS VALKYRAE FROM COMFY CARTEL COMIC? MISS VAL

[djts-arts]

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

[nutteu]

and I’ll hold you, so let go, dearest

-

[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]

-

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.)

-

[waynes-multiverse]

Polaris – Chapter 2

Series Summary: When Beau Arlen moved to Montana, he left behind a past he wasn’t proud of. But when a series of murders requires the FBI’s help, Sheriff Arlen‘s ghosts come back to haunt him one by one. With a wrong turn waiting at every crossroads, it’s hard to make the right choices and find his way back home – back to you.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader

Warnings: 18+, flashbacks to past relationships, awkwardness, mentions of cheating

Word Count: 6.1k

A/N: Jenny and Cassie should come with their own warning 😂 Probably the lightest chapter of this series. Just some getting-to-know fun (& tons of awkwardness on all sides). Enjoy the peace while it lasts 😉

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 2: No Signs, No Compasses

Motel coffee sucked. It was a well-known, globally accepted fact.

You had tasted enough of those in your career to know it wasn’t even worth a try at this point. Thus, finding a good source of caffeine became sort of an adventurous challenge on every work trip. Back in Houston, you had your spot and the server knew your order by heart. Here, in Helena, you were new and still had to navigate your way around.

In search of a decent cup, you passed a sign on the highway and entered the Blue Fox Diner. It was a bit on the outskirts of town, but, frankly, you had no idea where the border truly ended. Everything was damn far apart from one another, the only houses which adjoined were the ones on Main Street USA. That was it.

The diner was bright and comfy, giving you an immediate welcoming feeling of home-cooked food and a good roast. Your first sip of black, delicious liquid confirmed it – this was your spot.

“Special Agent Y/L/N?”

Your head snapped up from your cup of joe to a female voice, recognizing the blonde deputy from the Sheriff’s Department yesterday.

“Deputy Jenny Hoyt, right?” You gave her and her friend a smile as the two women sat across from each other in a booth by the big window. You could tell by their curious and mischievous looks that your spectacular entrance wasn’t lost on them.

Great…

“Uh, yeah. You wanna sit with us? Heard you’re staying for that serial killer case,” Jenny said and offered you a seat next to her.

“Sure.” You accepted her invitation without hesitance, knowing you had to get over the awkwardness at some point. After all, you had to work together, and you wanted to get it out of the way rather sooner than later. How did you so gloriously fuck this up in the first place? You usually were professionalism personified – someone J. Edgar Hoover would’ve been proud of.

Right. Beau. There was your answer.

“Cassie Dewell,” the other woman introduced herself and shook your hand as you slid into the leather seat next to Jenny. “I’m a private investigator in town. Special Agent Y/L/N, was it?”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve passed by your agency. Nice to meet you,” you said, smiling. “And Y/N is fine.”

“So, how do you like Helena so far?” Cassie asked curiously, although you caught the underlying question between the polite smiles. ‘How do you like our sheriff so far?’

However, you weren’t going to make this easy for them. “Well, uhm, not seen much aside from my motel, the Sheriff’s Department, and this diner. Coffee’s great, though.”

“Leave it to Donno to brew a decent pot,” Jenny muttered with a bitter huff and rolled her eyes.

You threw her an inquisitive look, partially amused. “You don’t seem to be a fan.”

“Oh, it’s about the owner, Tonya. Jenny doesn’t like her,” Cassie explained.

“Then, why exactly are you here?” You were happy the conversation steered clear of you. For now. You knew this bliss and peace wouldn’t last forever. They were just warming you up for the Spanish Inquisition.

“To keep an eye on her. She used to work for a cartel,” Jenny replied.

“Before she went legit and became a real estate agent,” Cassie added.

“Legit my ass,” the blonde huffed. “Pretty sure she stole those fifteen million…”

“She did help us with Gigi,” Cassie countered, which didn’t seem to convince the blonde too much. “And that whole Avery situation.”

“Well, you know, you could always tip off a rivaling cartel. Might get rid of your problem,” you suggested jokingly. “I have a few contacts.”

Jenny’s lips curved into a delighted grin. “I like that idea.”

Cassie snorted, laughing. “Yeah, nice.”

“So… you and Beau are… dating?” Jenny questioned quite forward.

And there it was. The one you’d been waiting for. You sighed internally.

“Jenny!” Cassie chided and threw her friend a look over her directness as the blonde mouthed back an innocent “What?”

Your cheeks blushed slightly, but you were all about being direct as well. You cleared your throat, tapping your nails on the table. “It’s fine. After my more than embarrassing entrance, I deserve the third degree.”

“Good answer.” Jenny smiled encouragingly, making you feel a little more at ease. They weren’t aiming to claw your eyes out; they were just curious about you. If the roles were reversed, you’d be as well.

“And it wasn’t that embarrassing,” Cassie placated your nerves. “Trust us, me and Jenny had our fair share of drama. You’re good.”

“Well, I’m glad, I guess…” You let out a relieved chuckle, hoping you wouldn’t stay the small town gossip for long. “And, uh, to answer your question: No, we’re not dating. He’s a nice guy, but it’s nothing like that. We just go way back, and I guess old habits die hard.”

And boy, was that true. Beau and you had once been inseparable. It still felt weird to think about that now you weren’t and hadn’t been for a while. Your heart still ached and longed all the same. That stupid, useless feeling of missing him. He was cut out of your soul, but the phantom pain remained.

Jenny nodded and shared a look with Cassie. “Honest. I like it.”

“Me too.” Cassie’s mouth formed a smile of agreement and reassurance. “So, how long have you guys known each other?”

That was when the cop portion of your chat started. You hadn’t expected anything less, but you were determined to keep it professional and, most of all, shallow. Chitchat and oversharing were more Beau’s territory, but it certainly wasn’t yours.

“About ten years.”

Jenny nodded pensively, thinking about her next question. “You worked a cartel case together, right?”

“Oh, a few cases over the years, actually. I’m stationed at the FBI field office in Houston. Used to work Narcotics before switching to Major Crimes,” you said.

“Hence the serial killer here,” Jenny filled in.

“Can’t believe we’ve got another one,” Cassie remarked with a huff, shaking her head into her coffee cup.

“Oh yeah, right! Heard about the Bleeding Hearts Killer at that campsite.”

You remembered a newspaper article about it. Occasionally, you did still check up on your ex like every sane person would. You even followed him on Social Media, although all he ever posted about was fucking trout fishing. But that same news article had also informed you about Beau leaving his early retirement in the rearview mirror, being referenced as the acting sheriff on the case. It almost seemed like a weird coincidence that one of your active cases would lead you right to him not long after. Cosmic jokes and such.

“Yeah, Sunny and Buck Barnes,” Cassie provided.

“Cassie is actually dating their son,” Jenny told you, smirking at her friend.

“Yeah, we’re not that official yet,” Cassie deflected but noticeably blushed. “You guys need any help with your serial killer?”

Jenny looked at you, knowing you were the one who called the shots now.

Nodding, you twitched your shoulders. “Sure. The more the merrier. More female eyes might even help, considering we’re probably dealing with a woman.”

Jenny cocked a brow. “A female serial killer?”

“It’s rare, but our profiler sure thinks so. As do I,” you confirmed.

“Oh, this just got interesting.” Cassie grinned, intrigued. “We sure never had that one before.”

“No, we did not,” Jenny reiterated, chuckling.

“What didn’t we have?”

Beau’s gravelly voice startled you from behind, but you tried not to let it show. Of course, you’d run into him. It was a small town, after all, and this diner was probably the only place to get good coffee. Avoiding him was not only improbable, but it was an impossibility.

Beau was a good man. But the truth was that he was more than the Southern-charming, bad-dad-jokes, never-shutting-up sheriff everyone had grown to love in Montana. There was another side to him. A side that defied authority, broke rules, and caused trouble. A side you knew better than anyone.

“Female serial killer,” Jenny supplied with a grin.

“Really? A woman?” Baffled, the green-eyed sheriff lifted a brow and looked at you.

“Why, you think a woman can’t do it?” Cassie challenged him with a teasing grin. You knew there was a reason why you immediately took a liking to her.

You watched Beau purse his lips as he struggled for an answer. You had a feeling he had to do that a lot with these two. It almost seemed unfair.

“No, women can do murder just fine. Especially you three,” Beau retorted and then circled the booth with his finger, sipping his coffee. “The three of you bonding is my nightmare.”

“Oh, c‘ mon.” Jenny snorted in amusement.

“Yeah, we’re harmless,” Cassie added.

“Right… Who are you tryna fool here, huh?” Beau chuckled and scratched his beard. “Mind if I sit down?”

“Sure, hop in,” Cassie said and offered up the seat next to her.

“Yeah, I was about to head out anyway. Have to call my supervisor with an update,” you excused quickly and stood up before Beau even sat down. “By the way, I have eight boxes of files in my trunk. It’s gonna be a fun afternoon for us.”

“Well, I’m looking forward to it,” Beau said, trying to remain professional, even though you could tell he was bothered by your abrupt exit.

You, however, weren’t ready to face him yet and spend a whole afternoon with him. You needed more time… and space. Which was hard, considering you two had to work a case together.

Hard but not impossible.

“Oh, uh, Beau, that’s not necessary. Cassie offered to help, so we have enough hands on deck for now,” you said innocently and tried to hide your astute smile as best as possible. “I don’t wanna keep you from your sheriff duties. I saw the giant pile of files on your desk. But I’ll let you know when we need you.”

Admittedly, that was a little mean. You knew how much that man hated paperwork.

Defeatedly, Beau pursed his lips and overplayed his loss with a sour smile. “Yup, alright… thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” You grinned and didn’t care he knew exactly what you were doing.

“Hey, Y/N, you know, uh… it’s kind of a tradition to buy a round of tequila when you first arrive in town,” Cassie noted with a smug smile.

You matched it, amused, although you could smell an ambush from a mile away. “Oh, yeah? Well, that’s a tradition I can get behind. Where and when?”

“Tonight? Bar called Boot Heel around eight o’clock?”

“I’ll be there,” you accepted the invitation. “But just a heads-up, pouring tequila into me isn’t going to make me open up more.”

“Really isn’t,” Beau confirmed wryly.

“Dammit,” Cassie sighed in feigned disappointment but grinned nevertheless.

Jenny coolly shrugged it off. “Was worth a shot.”

Beau watched you leave with dread in his heart. As soon as the glass door fell closed behind you, he let out a longing sigh.

“Alright, what did you do?” Jenny’s voice ripped him from his thoughts. The blonde crossed her arms over her chest and arched a brow.

He had almost forgotten they were here, too.

“Yeah, she’s been barely here twenty-four hours. That’s fast, even for you,” Cassie chimed in with a teasing smile.

“Okay, I didn’t do anything, alright?” Beau defended with a creased brow and a bark in his voice, but his curiosity soon got the best of him. He leaned in closer, resting his elbows on the table. “Why? Did she say somethin’?”

“Yeah, he stepped in it,” Cassie commented dryly and looked straight at Jenny, taking his question as a confirmation of their theory.

“Yup.”

Beau rolled his green eyes, his patience already thin after the sleepless night he had. “Alright, did she say something to you guys or not?”

Cassie sighed. “No, she was very… courteous.”

Jenny nodded in agreement and shrugged one shoulder. “Yeah, she kept it professional. Said you were nice.”

Beau felt a surge of relief. “Well, that’s good, right?” he asked but watched both women shake their heads with pursed lips. “It’s not-… it’s not good?”

“Nope.”

“Nuh-uh,” Jenny retorted, “You don’t wanna be called nice. Not in that way, at least.”

“I don’t?” Beau cocked his eyebrow at the two, feeling rather confused at this point. “So, what’s the verdict?”

“Depends on what you did there, cowboy,” Cassie taunted him with a grin, which was mirrored by Jenny.

“Oh, I’m not telling you guys,” Beau huffed, shaking his head. Contrary to popular belief, he knew when to keep his mouth shut.

“You’re not talking for once?” Teasingly, Cassie popped an eyebrow at him.

“Must be bad then,” Jenny finished the thought. “Did you-, you know… cheat with her on Carla?”

Perplexed and slightly offended, Beau furrowed his brow. “What? No! Nothing like that. Carla and I were already separated. As in papers served and signed… I’m a very loyal-commitment kinda guy, alright?”

Beau didn’t want to admit his answer might have been a slight overcompensation on his part. While it’s true that he never cheated and would’ve never even considered it, he wasn’t without faults, either. There had been certain feelings towards you fermenting in his stomach, slowly but surely festering in his heart before he even knew what was happening and could put an end to it.

“That sounds like she was your rebound,” Jenny pointed out.

“Yeah, and casual,” Cassie threw in.

“No, it was nothing casual, alright? And she wasn’t my rebound,” Beau replied with an exhaustive breath. Jesus, did you get the third degree as well? At this rate, he should consider himself lucky if you were still in town by tomorrow. His head was spinning. “I mean, if she was my rebound, I was hers, too.”

Dammit, he said too much. He knew the two women would take that piece of information and run with it over the mountains of Montana, probably even making it over the border to goddamn Canada.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jenny questioned as expected. “Is she married? I saw the ring on her finger.”

“Yeah, looked like a wedding band,” Cassie mused.

“Okay, Sherlock and Watson, enough, alright? She’s not married,” Beau replied, but only to save both your reputations. “It’s a sentimental thing. There’s a lot of history there.”

“What kinda history?” Jenny’s knitted brow practically stared at him.

Beau grew tired of their interrogation and dragged a palm over his face, leaning back in his seat. “It’s complicated.”

The two women then shared an inquiring look that held an entire conversation, knowing their interview had run its course. Beau wouldn’t answer any more of their questions.

“Want our advice?” Cassie offered.

Beau hesitated for a moment, puckering his lips in thought. He was desperate, and they could smell it like coyotes. “Alright, lay it on me. What d’you got?”

“Nothing.” Cassie twitched her shoulders and met his annoyed glare with a pleased smile.

“Yeah, see, you actually have to tell us first what happened before we can help you,” Jenny elaborated.

“Alright, I’m done,” Beau said frustratedly, tapping his knuckles on the table once as he rose from his seat.

“Oh, Beau, c’mon, we’re just messing with you.” Cassie chuckled softly and looked at him apologetically. “Fine, you want our advice? Apologize.”

“For whatever you’ve done,” Jenny added.

Pensively, Beau nodded and clicked his tongue. “What if I’ve done that already?”

“Do it again,” Jenny advised simply. “Until she hears you.”

“Yeah, get down on your knees, you know,” Cassie deadpanned. But as Beau suspiciously eyed her at the particular word choice, she burst into laughter.

“Nice.“ Jenny joined in, tears stinging the corners of her eyes as the two clinked their coffee mugs together for a toast to their cleverness.

Beau chuckled out of sheer uncomfortableness, his cheeks flushing embarrassingly red. “Oh, you two are hilarious… I’m heading to work,” he grumbled. “You know, you might wanna join me if you wanna keep your job, Hoyt.”

With a sigh that resembled a yawn, you stretched your shoulders and spine as you got up from the uncomfortable wooden chair in the Sheriff’s Department. You checked your watch and noticed it was already past 2pm.

“Alright… you guys want something for lunch? I’m buying.”

Technically, the government was buying, but you would take any chance you could get to make yourself a little more popular with your colleagues. Jenny, Cassie, and Deputy Poppernak (who told you to call him Mo and started looking you in the eyes again after you brought him a sandwich and a coffee this morning) then gave you their lunch orders, and most importantly, where to get it. What you didn’t expect, though, was Beau appearing behind you out of nowhere after he had locked himself (pun intended) in his office all day and had given you your requested space.

That courtesy apparently was over.

“I’ll come with you,” Beau announced. And although his facial expression resembled a friendly, soft Golden Retriever, you detected the stern bite in his voice. He wasn’t going to be cast aside again.

Stubborn as you were, you still had to try.

“Oh, you don’t hav–,” you tried to interject, but he swiftly waved you off.

“Nonsense. You can’t carry all that alone. I’ll help. Part of the sheriff duties,” he said in his most neighborly tone and grinned triumphantly at you, beaming with Southern chivalry.

You huffed a sigh. Great…

Ignoring Beau Arlen was like trying to avoid air – it was impossible unless you planned on suffocating. Not even a fast pace could get him out of breath enough to stop pestering you. His voice trickled like slow poison into your mind. One of these days, it would infect your heart and destroy your defenses.

“Y/N, hey, can you slow down a little? I didn’t bring my marathon shoes to work, alright? Don’t make me write you a ticket for speeding!” Beau huffed behind you in a half-joking tone, chuckling at his own wit. “C’mon, I just wanna talk. Lord knows you already had your fun today.”

With a heavy sigh, you stopped in your tracks and turned to face him on the sidewalk, Beau almost crashing into you. He clearly hadn’t expected you to actually listen to him.

With a fierce glare in your eyes, you crossed your arms over your chest. “Look, I’ve got nothing left to say to you, okay? Can we just keep this civil?”

Beau pursed his lips but quickly recovered, offering you a charmingly desperate smile. “Well, lucky for you, you would just have to listen.”

You rolled your eyes and started marching ahead again, feeling Beau hot on your trail.

“Y/N, c’mon!”

“Dad?”

At that, both you and Beau spun around, recognizing the voice in an instant as Emily walked out of a shop.

Beau’s face immediately lit up. He gave her a tight hug, kissing her temple. “Hey, kid.”

“Aunt Y/N?” Emily’s face tilted in surprise, brow knitting as she noticed you and left her father’s arms. She greeted you with a bright sunshine smile.

“Hey, Em,” you said and happily mirrored her smile. You had always loved that girl since she was little. Something she wasn’t anymore. It had been a while since you’d last seen her. “Wow, look at you. You’re all grown. You look like you’re about ready to head off to college.”

“Don’t remind me,” Beau mumbled with a sigh next to you.

“Yes, please don’t make him cry,” Emily begged you, chuckling, but her look was still pleadingly serious. It made you laugh. You remembered how protective Beau was of her. It was endearingly sweet, which made it a little harder to be furious with him. “What are you doing in Montana? Are you visiting Dad?”

“Oh, uh, I’m here for a case, actually,” you replied, swallowing, and shot Beau a quick glance to check how much you were allowed to share.

“What kinda case?” Her brow furrowed as she looked at her dad with concern. It broke your heart a little to know that, whenever you were involved, Emily thought her father was in danger.

“Em,” Beau warned her softly.

You had figured he still refrained from talking about work with his family, not wanting them to worry unnecessarily. After what his daughter had been through this summer, you couldn’t really blame him.

“Right, sorry,” she said meekly and bit the inside of her lip.

“Beau?”

Every molecule in your body shuddered at the sound of that voice. God, you so didn’t want to do this right now. The last time you’d seen Carla, it didn’t end well. If you could, you’d teleport yourself somewhere else – preferably Hawaii.

Beam me up, Scotty!

Beau flashed you a glance over his shoulder that said pretty much the same thing – shit. With a thick swallow, he angled his face toward his ex-wife and forced an awkward smile to his lips.

“Hey,” he rasped, his throat drier than the Death Valley.

“Y/N?” As soon as Carla spied you, her brow arched and her features turned sinister. The unhappy surprise of finding you here was written all over her face. And if it hadn’t been, her words soon made her feelings for you abundantly clear. “What are you doing here? Wrecking more homes? At least you’re wearing clothes this time that don’t belong to my ex-husband.”

Yup. You hadn’t expected a warm welcome, but that even exceeded your expectations. You gaped at her, a bit speechless. Even Beau seemed temporarily at a loss for words and was taken aback. Only Emily looked the most upset and voiced it, too.

“Mom! Really?!”

Carla then looked apologetically at her daughter, aware of her inappropriate comment, her mouth falling open in shame. You knew it was a knee-jerk reaction.

“And that’s my cue to leave,” you retorted. As you spun around, you glanced up at Beau and touched his shoulder comfortingly, letting him know you were still here, even when you were mad as hell at him. “Call me when you’re finished here. Or if you need an alibi…” you muttered into his ear in passing.

“I’m coming with you,” Emily announced with a scowl over her shoulder at her mother. She hopped next to you and looped her arm through yours, following you inside the restaurant.

As soon as you and his daughter were out of sight, Beau glowered at his ex-wife and shook his head. “Really, Carla? Was that necessary? You know nothing ever happened when we were married.”

“I know, I know,” Carla agreed and sighed, clasping her temples. “I’m sorry. I really am… It just came out. I guess it’s just old wounds, you know? I was surprised to see her here.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Beau bobbed his head in understanding, smacking his lips. He hated everything about this and knew he could only blame himself for it. “I mean, c’mon, you two used to be friends once, right? What happened? You’d think after what you went through with Avery, you’d have a little more compassion for what she’s gone through.”

Carla pursed her lips and bit the insides of her cheeks, surely stifling a fiery comment. “You wanna know what happened between us? You did, Beau,” she snapped, but before he could open his mouth to respond, she heaved a sigh and shot him a remorseful look. “But you’re right. I’ll apologize to her later.”

“Thank you,” he said graciously as his shoulders deflated and passed the tension.

“What’s she doing here? Everything okay?” Carla asked, lines of worry etching her brow. It told Beau that she still cared about him, even if it was just a smidge.

“Uh, yeah. Just work. Serial killer,” he replied. Since their eventful summer, Beau tried to be more open and honest, keeping a clear line of communication with his ex. It was a step forward. “Three victims so far.”

“Serial killer? Again?” Carla raised her brow and scoffed. “I guess it’s good I’m bringing Emily back to Houston, then.”

“You still wanna do that?”

A part of him hoped they’d stay because he wanted to stay here. Montana had given him a fresh start. One that was much needed. Houston, on the other hand, was haunted and full of ghosts he didn’t want to face. He had been running from them for a while now, although they were slowly catching up to him.

But he also needed his family, his daughter. He wanted to be a constant in her life, not just a variable.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” Carla sighed and looked a bit torn and helpless, which was rare for her. But Avery’s secrecy and death had done quite a number on her, and Beau supposed she was still working through a lot. “What d’you think?”

Beau thought it was ironic she was suddenly asking for his input, considering she didn’t ask for his advice the first time she took their daughter and moved several states away. But he knew better than to say that out loud, especially since he was partially at fault.

Rubbing his beard, your earlier words reverberated in his head. His daughter wasn’t a little kid anymore and would fly the nest soon, as much as he didn’t want to admit it.

“Maybe we should ask Em what she wants. I mean, she’s almost seventeen. If your work isn’t a factor, then maybe we should let her decide.”

Carla nodded pensively as if she was actually considering it. “Yeah, okay,” she agreed and let out a sentimental sigh. “She’s growing up.”

Beau’s smile carried a drop of sadness. “Yeah, she is.”

Surprisingly, his talk with his ex-wife went better than expected. He just wished things would be as easy with you. All he wanted was just a chance to make it right. He couldn’t screw up another relationship.

“Beau… For the record, I want you to be happy, okay? No matter how, where, or with… who,” Carla told him and gifted him a cordial smile that showed her sincerity.

He appreciated her words. There’d been bad blood between them. Divorce made people bitter, he supposed. But old wounds had to heal eventually, too.

As you stepped outside the restaurant with Emily, you flashed an insecure glance at Carla. You averted your gaze to Beau, holding up a big brown paper bag. “You ready? Got the food.”

Beau checked quickly with his ex-wife, who nodded, letting him know that they were done here.

Carla then turned to you and cleared her throat, and you were sure it took a lot for her to even look at you. “Y/N, I’m sorry about earlier.”

You nodded, accepting her apology. You’d never done anything wrong, but the situation was complicated. It was hard on all of you.

“It’s fine. We’re good,” you assured her and gave her a half smile. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, too. I heard about your husband.”

“Thank you,” she replied courtly and motioned for Emily to follow her. “C’mon, honey. Let’s go.”

“Bye, Dad.” Emily waved at her father.

Beau quietly watched his family saunter down the street before he glanced at you and offered you a clumsy smile. “Well, this went better than expected, right?”

You didn’t share his humor, however, and threw him a dark glare. You spun on your heel and trudged back to the Sheriff’s Department. “I have to get back to work.”

Beau exhaled heavily. This wasn’t how he had imagined his outing with you, wishing for a sign or at least a damn compass to show him the way.

March 2014

“Maybe it was the courier?” Beau suggested as he caught the pigskin before throwing it back to his partner across the desk. Passing the ball had become a ritual, helping them work through their case theories one by one.

“Nah, I don’t think so.” Randy shook his head when it was his turn. “What about the maid? She certainly had motive.”

A few more exchanges and tosses back and forth happened before you waltzed into the police station. Randy missed his catch, the football almost flying through the Captain’s window, but you gracefully caught it just in time and placed it securely down on the desk.

“Nice catch,” Beau complimented you, impressed.

“Hi, honey,” your husband greeted you and found your lips, kissing you deeply. You giggled and locked your arms around his neck as he pressed you into the edge of his desk.

“Geez, really? Get a room you two,” Beau huffed jokingly, making both of you laugh enough to stop your make-out session but not enough to detangle yourselves from each other.

“We’re newlyweds. We’re supposed to make you sick and scratch your eyes out,” Randy quipped with a grin.

Smiling warmly, Beau shook his head at the two of you. “You got married eight months ago. When’s that honeymoon phase ending, huh?”

“Never,” both of you replied in unison and started kissing again, causing Beau’s eyes to roll back.

“God help me…” He sighed dramatically.

His sigh of exhaustion was soon joined by a second one. “Ugh, again?” Carla asked as she stepped into the station and tilted her head at you and your husband.

“Yeah,” Beau confirmed, amused, and kissed his wife’s cheek. “How did that court case go?”

Carla exhaled a breath of fatigued annoyance. “Y/N’s buying drinks tonight. Thanks to her Oscar-worthy performance on the stand,” she replied as you grinned winningly at her. The two of you had a deal – whoever won a court case was inviting the other for consolation drinks. “You know, I’ve never seen someone so convincingly fake-cry during cross.”

“You’re welcome.” You smirked slyly. “My high school drama teacher taught me that. I think he would’ve been proud of me today. Those were real tears, you know?”

“Oh, the jury certainly thought so.” Carla laughed bitterly.

“So you lost?” Beau glanced at his wife. “I’m sorry, darlin’.”

Carla arched an eyebrow and knowingly crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you, Beau?”

“Nah, not really.” He laughed and said, “You did defend a tweaker who killed three people over a little bag of meth, so…”

“Well, I know better than to argue with two cops and a federal agent over the rights of American citizens,” Carla fired back.

Beau snorted in amusement. “Wow, okay. Y/N really pissed you off, huh?”

“Again, you’re welcome.” You beamed with self-satisfaction.

“Oh, you both are pissing me off,” Carla retorted jokingly and then looked at you, smiling. “I gotta get back to the office. I’ll see you at the bar.” She then turned to her husband, pointing a finger at him. “And I’ll see you at home.”

Beau leaned in to kiss his wife goodbye, but Carla already rushed out of the station before he got a chance. He heaved a small sigh, his eyes drifting to Randy and you as you giggled like two lovesick teenagers.

“I gotta get back to work, too,” you said as you withdrew from your husband’s lips. But then you noticed an opened case folder on Randy’s desk. Curiously, you tiptoed up and spied over his shoulder to get a better look at it. “Unless you two got something fun here…”

“Ay, hands off! That ain’t your jurisdiction,” Beau warned you playfully and stopped short of batting your hand away.

“C’mon, we’re stuck. She might be able to help,” Randy interjected with an innocent shrug and a puppy dog look.

Beau heaved an exasperated sigh and then smiled challengingly at you. “Alright, what d’you think, Special Agent Y/L/N?”

Grabbing the file, you leafed through it for a moment and then mused, “Hmm, couldn’t have been the maid. Her schedule doesn’t match time of death. But maybe it was the courier? There’s a theft ring hitting several states. They use bike couriers.”

Beau’s smile widened to a triumphant grin as he pointed a finger at his partner. “Ha! That’s what I said.”

“Alright.” Your husband groaned defeatedly. “Let’s check it out.”

“Oh, now you suddenly want to, huh? After the wife said it? That hurts, man,” Beau teased.

Randy shrugged smugly. “Yeah, well, she’s a lot smarter than you.”

Beau pursed his lips and nodded, hiding his smirk of amusement. “Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

“Well, you guys have fun with this,” you said and kissed your husband’s lips one last time. “I have to get back to work. The tweaker Carla defended gave up his supplier in Brownsville. The DEA wants me to come down to Matamoros with them tomorrow. They think the guy is Gulf Cartel.”

Randy furrowed his brow, and you could see the concern shimmering in his eyes. “How long will you be gone?”

“Two weeks maybe?” You shrugged, not knowing exactly how long assignments sometimes could last. Worst case, you could even be undercover for a couple of months, and your husband knew that.

“So, we’re gonna have fun tonight?” Randy smirked and wiggled his eyebrows, resting his palms on your hips as he pulled you closer.

You grinned smugly. “You bet we are, baby. Bring the handcuffs home.”

“Guys, c’mon, I’m standing right here,” Beau complained and threw his arms up, making both of you laugh and blush.

“Alright, be careful,” Randy reminded you with a peck on your lips.

You nodded and then turned to Beau. “You’re gonna protect my boy here while I’m gone, Arlen? Have his back?”

“Yes, ma’am. With my life. Promise,” Beau said and smiled at you reassuringly, putting you at ease before you walked out of the station.

Randy let out a worried sigh as he watched you leave. He looked up when Beau patted his shoulder in comfort.

“She’ll be fine. She’s a tough one,” Beau said in an attempt to calm his partner’s nerves.

“Yeah, she is,” Randy agreed quietly before his teasing nature returned. He grinned up at him and quipped, “You couldn’t handle her.”

“Sure, I could! Have you met Carla?” Beau retorted as both of them fell back into a brotherly banter. “Trust me, once your sickening honeymoon phase wears off, you’re gonna be right where I am.”

“What, happily unhappy?” Randy sassed and cocked an eyebrow.

“Exactly,” Beau replied wryly, clicking his tongue.

“Nah, man, that’s not me and Y/N,” Randy stated with a surefire grin.

“Alright, lover boy, let’s put our courier in the hot seat. C’mon,” Beau grunted with a roll of his eyes and brushed off his feelings on the subject, although he began to doubt his own statement. He was admittedly a bit jealous of his partner’s relationship.

Maybe some couples were just happier than him and Carla.

Beau tossed the old football into the air and caught it again. With a thoughtful sigh, he placed it on his desk and sunk back into his chair, his palm still resting on the ball.

“You were right, man. Who would’ve thought…” The sheriff clicked his tongue. A knock on the door ripped him from his trance, his green eyes darting to the visitor.

Jenny carefully peeked her head inside and checked on him, “You okay there?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he assured her. He didn’t bother to form a smile, though.

She pursed her lips, clearly not believing him, but nodded her acceptance. “You wanna join us at the bar? Might give you a chance to talk?”

“Uh, yeah, but you girls go ahead. Still have a few things to finish up here,” Beau said.

“Alright.” Jenny gave him a small smile, but she didn’t leave yet, her hand resting on the doorknob. “You know, when I first saw you with Carla, I thought I had it right. But this-… this is an entirely new look.”

Beau grimaced. “Shut up.”

Jenny laughed lightly. “If you love her, you should tell her.” Beau only shot her a deadpan glare, to which the blonde raised her hands in capitulation. “Alright, just sayin’…” With that, she closed the door behind her again.

Beau’s eyes then landed back on the football on his desk, smacking his lips in thought. Sometimes the guilt was eating him alive, burning him from the inside out like acid.

“You’d be okay with this, right? I know you’d want her to be happy,” he verbalized his thoughts out loud, hoping it would give him some clarity. He wasn’t sure, however, if he was just saying it to alleviate his own guilty conscience and justify his actions.

“I think I could really make her happy, you know? At least, I’d try,” Beau said. Two fingers rubbed his mouth as he spun on his chair and glanced out the window to the dark sky and the stars above. “C’mon, man, I just need one small sign…”

Chapter 3: Pour The Whiskey

More glimpses into the past and maybe some much needed talking coming next week! Let me know all your thoughts in the comments, loves 🤍

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[lxstfathier]

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.

[luci4theminorannoyance]

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

[moth-r4t]

I JUST REALLY WANNA TALK TO YOU AGAIN · GHOST × SOAP SHORT FIC

Chapter One.

How long had it been? Simon could've swore, it felt like yesterday— him and Johnny. Johnny and him. There was no one else here; just Simon, his mask off and head lazily propped up in the Scotsman's lap. "Comfy, L.t.?" Johnny asked, his hand shifting to roam through those blonde locks he'd come to adore.

"That obvious?" Simon chuckled, his neck craning into the man's touch. His brown eyes opening to meet John's beautiful blue ones. He could admire his face all day. all week. Forever, maybe.

This moment was perfect. Just the two of them— the pair helplessly lovelorn for one another. Not a care in the world. No missiles. No terrorism. No cartel. Just them— Simon and Johnny. Johnny and Simon.

And then, Simon would wake up.

A gasp parted from his lips, sitting up so abruptly from his spot on his flat's couch that he'd knock over his half finished glass of scotch. He liked bourbon— but this always brought him a strange sense of nostalgia.

"Fuckin' hell," he'd grumbled underneath his breath, the heels of his palms pressing into his eyes, which weighed heavy with exhaustion. If the purple and blue bags beneath his eyes weren't a telltale sign to his sleep deprecation, his bloodshot eyes and lethargic skin was.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten a full night's rest since John's passing. Or the last time he'd had a full meal.

"You look like shite," that painfully familiar voice sounded behind him.

He hated this. It looked like him. Sounded like him. But it wasn't him. An empty, hollow form of what the beautiful man once used to be. A ghost.

Painfully ironic. Simon scowled.

"Oh, c'mon, L.t.," he said, the weight of the couch never shifting— but the figure sat down beside him. He could feel the cold radiating off of him, "I was hopin' ye missed me."

All that Simon could offer was a shaky exhale. His hands fell in front of him whilst his elbows rested against his knees. When he did speak, his voice was too monotone. Too neutral. "I miss you everyday, John."

A heavy silence weighed between the pair, as if neither knew what to say. John sighed— at least, to the best of his deceased abilities. "I know." He said, the bitter cold of his hand biting into Simon's knee.

Maybe once he would've flinched back from the touch. Refused it, even. He didn't deserve it. He couldn't save Johnny, so why the hell was he here to begin with?

Simon hadn't even realized he'd been staring off, only being dragged out of his thoughts by the man beside him flicking his cheek. Something between a grumble of annoyance and a snarl of frustration leaving the confines of his lips.

"Not even gonna entertain as much as the idea to keep me entertained?" John flashed a familiar, charismatic grin. A smile so beautiful, it could potentially start war. Perhaps it already has; Simon's inner turmoil and self sabotage seemed to be making quick progress against him.

Simon shook his head, his head turning to the side to get a good view of the phantom figure. He didn't smell the same. He was no longer feverishly warm. He couldn't feel his stubble bite against his skin, couldn't listen to that heart beat within the man's chest— but why could he?

There was no heartbeat to hear.

"You shouldn't be here," Simon said, his voice a bit rougher than he would've cared to admit.

A snort, followed by a sneer as Johnny shook his head, "I'm not goin' anywhere, Si. Got nowhere else to go."

"What about Price? Or Gaz?" Simon snapped out. "Scare the bloody socks off the old man."

A laugh— that beautiful fucking laugh— bubbled out of Johnny. Simon could only stare, watching as John's eyes crinkled in the corner, his lips curled up in a smile. "Aye, I'd love t'a, but you and I both know that's not going t'a happen." He spoke, turning his head and body to face Simon further; revealing the brutal mess of blood and gore on the side of his skull.

Simon could only inhale sharply, turning his head away from the sight and closing his eyes. He tried to take a steadying breath, but it was useless. He could feel his chest grow heavy with guilt, and shame. He'd seen plenty of death, and war, and destruction, so what made this so different?

"Si," he felt cold bite into his knee, John's ashen hand pressed against the appendage. It was a different kind of touch— empty. void. It left a strange buzz against Simon's skin, "look at me."

A lump of emotion formed in his throat, head shaking. God, he was pathetic. The Simon "Ghost" Riley, one of the best stealth operatives to ever live, reduced to this. He didn't speak. Didn't open his eyes. He couldn't bare to be met with the sight of John, a forever painful reminder that he couldn't save him. Too slow.

The Scotsman only let a heavy sigh fall past his ghostly lips, arms crossing over his chest as he'd make himself comfortable. His eyes drifted to the bottle atop the coffee table and to the glass that still lay spilt on the floor. His nose wrinkled up, a faint sniff following. "Scotch," John said, "I thought ye liked whiskey?"

"I do," The blonde sighed, hands reaching up to rub over his taunt, exhausted features.

Johnny didn't need to ask why he was drinking what he was drinking— he knew, but that didn't stop the shit eating grin that spread across his face, "So all it took was me gettin' my brains smeared across the cement for you t'a finally get some good taste?" He'd end the sentence with a low whistle, a chuckle building out of him.

"Watch it." Simon said, voice dark. A clear warning. How Johnny could joke about that day, never stopped surprising him.

"Ooh, come on, L.t.!" His legs would stretch out, hands folding behind his head, "You miss me." The words were a clear statement, and goddamnit, he was right. He wished he wasn't.

Simon had seen people die. Enemies, allies, friends— but this, John, was earth shattering. When that gun fired, it wasn't just Johnny's life that went with that bullet, but Ghost's too. He could never recover from his. He didn't want to.

He didn't deserve to.

"I already said, I missed you," He scoffed, his gazed fixated at nothing in particular on his messy living room floor; clothes, bottles, papers and God knows what else scattered about. "What's your point?"

There was a heavy pause. A long pause. Long enough, it made Simon bristle, his head and body awkwardly shifting to try and get a glimpse of the man— who had a stern, thoughtful look across his face. They stayed like that for a while, just staring at one another with so much unspoken between the two of them.

"You're feelin' guilty." John said. It was a clear statement, rather than a question. That, for some reason, caught Simon off guard; enough so his head would turn, eyes darting to anything in the room other than the hazy figure that sat beside him. "Why, Simon? What happened—" a deathly cold touch to his shoulder, a buzz of his fingers grasping him firmly, "— none of it was y'er fault."

He couldn't do this. It was pathetic, sitting here, mourning his loss into a bottle of scotch, wishing he could do anything to bring Johnny back. And here he was, sitting right beside him and he couldn't handle it.

Simon stood in an instant, his feet kicking the glass in the floor across the room, rolling with a dull sound that reverberated through his skull. "You need to leave." His tone was dark. Serious.

"Simon—" John's voice came after a pause, softer than before somehow. He didn't deserve that softness, that sweetness. "You don't mean that."

"I bloody do, Soap. Go."

The brunet's eyes widened. He certainly hadn't been expecting that. There was another beat of silence; a beat too long, his stomach recoiled. He had expected Johnny to say something, to argue and push to stay— to try and talk him out of this grave of life-taking guilt and coping. His head turned, mouth open and ready to fling another demand for him to leave—

But he was already gone.

The couch empty, the walls of the house silent. It loomed over his head, an overbearing presence.

He hasn't seen Johnny since.

[yufloria]

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 &lt;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. 

══════════ ⋆★⋆ ═════════

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

[writers-requiem]

Lonely Woes & Fatherly Love

Pairing: Hank McCoy x teen!Reader

Genere: Angst, Depression Comfort

Warnings: mentions of past trauma, suicide attempts, abandonment, drug use, violence and abuse

A/N: Hank isn't actually the reader's dad, just a fatherly figure

Your life was a shit show. There was no getting around it.

One disaster after another with almost no room for a reprieve from it all. Constant feelings of anxiety and depression from failed relationships with family and 'friends'. It was a nightmare without an end. Your parents were part of a drug cartel that you wanted no relation with, your first love had a marijuana addiction and died a year later, all your friends were reckless jerks since primary, and your recent ex made your life even more miserable by constantly comparing you to other people and saying they would be better partners but that he had to be stuck with you.

But that wasn't the worst of it, because not once, not twice, but on five different occasions, you were a ransom hostage and were starved, beaten, and harassed in more ways than you cared to count. Eventually it all culminated with you attempting suicide multiple times but each time being saved by a hero or a some stranger. Making matters worse is that you were only between the ages of 4 and 13 during all that time. And now you're 16

Which leads us to today. You sat alone on a park bench, down on your luck. No food, no house or apartment, not even a penny to get those, and the only solace you have is that you had a jacket to keep yourself away from the cold rain which was pouring buckets.

"Just like every other day..." You said in a solemn, bitter tone.

Your stomach rumbled incessantly, desperate for food and water to sate your hunger and thirst. But all you could get were scraps, and not even that could sate you.

"You seem hungry" a kind male voice said, "I know a dry spot to eat at. Follow me."

The man, dressed in a trench coat and fedora, gently helped you to your feet and gently guided you to the place he spoke of.

Once you had arrived at the location, he took off his fedora revealing his blue furry face. You recognized him as Dr. Hank McCoy or Beast. He had saved you a couple of times before. Once from a hostage situation, and the second from one of your suicide attempts.

"Why did you bring me here?" you asked, your voice tired and strained from days without rest or nourishment.

"Well, I've been keeping an eye on you for a little while now and saw what's been happening with you" he stated in a matter of fact tone accented with worry, "And it seems that fate hasn't been kind to you."

"Never has been..." you said, voice clearly fading from exhaustion and dehydration.

Hank gently wrapped an arm around you and helped you to sit down in the car which you only now noticed since he had opened the door and got you settled in.

Once in the car, he fastened your seatbelt and took his position on the driver's seat and drove off. To where, you couldn't tell since you fell asleep, finally succumbing to the pull of rest.

When you woke up, you found yourself in a comfy bed in an ornate but not too fancy looking room. You also saw that you were covered in bandages and had a cast and sling for your arm. You also weren't wearing your old rags of clothes and were in a white T-shirt and black shorts. Then the door to the room opened, and there walked in a familiar face.

"Oh thank heaven above, you're awake" Hank said with a relieved smile on his face.

"Where am I?" you asked, understandably confused.

"Welcome to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters" he said, "A place that many like you or I would describe as a new home."

This made your ears perk up. "Home?" you asked with a glimmer of hope and longing in your eyes.

"Yes" he said. He then placed the tray of food to the side and gently held your hand and looked at you like a father would with his son after a traumatic event, "And it's your new home too."

He then picked up the spoon and grabbed some soup with it. It was clear what he was trying to do, so you let him slowly spoon-feed you since your free arm was numb and limp. Strangely, it felt like you were with someone you just wanted to call, 'dad'.

[iheartchv]

HIIII, I saw you replied to a request of a cod match up!! I was wondering if you could do one for me? Thank you if you do<3

I’m 18,

I’m 4’11, with hazel eyes. Most of my hair is bleached, but my roots are dirty blonde! I hope to dye my hair again though (I’m a pink girly) I got kinda fluffy hair. I’m kinda chubby, but I kinda consider that a good thing. I’m stronger than I look, I like lifting weights a lot. :) I’m an INFP and Enneagram Type 2 wing 1

I started German in high school, so I still speak it normally (I only sing happy birthday in German anymore) Which reminds me, I dramatically sing things all the time, so hope that isn’t annoying<3 I started Scottish Gaelic on Duolingo, so…yeah not very good at it

I have two kinds of styles ig, your comfy one and then your extra ones! I’ll wear whatever is comfy. But my favorite is like..pastels! Lolita, Candycore, that kind of vibe!

I hope to become a veterinarian, but I spend lots of time on art. I make a lot of characters and stories. I’m kinda reserved..? Like I can be loud and chaotic with certain people, but for the most part I’m pretty quiet. I’m more introverted when it comes to newer people, they are gonna have to approach me to be my friend. (I can be kinda bold sometimes but I really gotta hype myself up, but yes I usually really like extroverted people) Other than my art, I spend time reading, being in local musicals/plays, playing games, sleeping..a lot of sleeping!

(I will eat up any spice👁️👁️)

Thank you for your time<3

🤔 I'll match you with...

Alejandro Vargas 🇲🇽

Other possible match(es): Price, Ghost

I think you'd be paired with Alejandro

While your enneagrams are the same, your personalities are opposites;

Both of you are the same, yet compliment each others differences

I feel like you two would hit it off

He would be the one to make the first move

Alejandro met you when he was working with Task Force 141 on another mission involving Cartel

Unknown to you, someone connected to you was involved with Cartel, so it was up to TF 141 and Los Vaquieros to keep you from getting in trouble

They were kinda like your body guards

Soap was pretty friendly with you, but Alejandro...

he wouldn't stop flirting and complimenting you

It all started as a little competition between the 2 men, for petes sake, and he just... fell for you

He loved seeing you blush

Thought you were cute when you acted so flustered

Alejandro is a charming man, no doubt about that 😉

Can be a romantic as well🌹

❤

🌶And on the spicy side...

You know he'd be good in bed 🥵

You and your needs will always come first ( no pun intended )

In the bedroom or not, he will treat you like the lady you are

❤

[lazybutsmexy]

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.

[ravaging-angel]

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.

[nutteu]

mama, we all go to hell [Chapter I]

-

[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.

-

[lesvii]

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.

[okamiz36]

Sry but cartel boss, wearing hoodies n shorts under their coat/boss outfit is peak to me, LET THEM BE COMFY

[palialaina]

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.