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captain-mj · 10 months

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Vampire Pt 5

CW: suicidal ideation, non typical self harm, smut, Ghost finally drinks from Soap

We're back!!!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Ghost stared at the new people. His discomfort was immediate but subtle enough that only the people who knew him would pick up on it. He immediately sought out the places of exit and sunlight before finding Johnny.

“Now. Why were you all scolding my familiar and why is there a werewolf in my home?”

Price stood up immediately. “Well, Simon-”

“Ghost.” He corrected, glaring down Farah. She shrank back from him, a healthy respect in her eyes. No fear despite here stance. When he noticed the shaking and unconscious woman in Alejandro’s hands, he realized why. She was protecting someone. He glanced at Johnny, partially for answers and partially to make sure he was there..

His little familiar stared at him and Ghost tried not to preen. It was just because he had never seen his face before. And judging by the dumbstruck look on his face, he was probably surprised by how much he was scarred. Soap definitely was wondering how great of a warrior he was. Unfortunately, those days were far behind him, though Soap’s reaction to him made him feel fearsome in a way he hadn’t in a long time. Later, he’d assure Soap that he never, ever had to be afraid of him.

Ghost had to look away from him briefly when he heard Alex bursting in.

“Ah. Damn. Nevermind, you’re on your own.”

“Alex!” Farah growled at him, sneaking glances at all of them. The atmosphere felt tense and incredibly awkward.

Ghost moved slowly. The floor creaked beneath him as he walked. He went closer to his Johnny and noticed how he was standing. Hands behind his back. Perfect posture like he only had when he had done something wrong.

Rather than call him out in front of everyone, he circled him.

His hands.

They had ash.

Ghost knew immediately something horrible had happened. But his friends were all here and very much alive. Whoever died… well.

They could cross that bridge when they came to it.

His own hands were ungloved. Now adorned with sharp nails. He wrapped his hand around Soap’s throat, careful not to squeeze. Ghost only wanted to feel his pulse beneath his fingers.

Soap let out a breath and everyone else tensed.

Farah immediately stepped forward. “Wait, I dragged him into everything. Alright? He didn’t even want to do it.” She had her hand up, eyes on Ghost.

Ghost hated when people looked at his face. The only thing worse than being seen was retreating though.

“I’m not going to kill him. You can all relax. I need him to make me a new mask anyway. My last one was ripped.” He twisted and leaned his head down to look at Soap and continued to speak only to him. “Shame. I really liked that one. You can replace it right?” His thumb rubbed gentle circles into his skin. The tan flesh of Soap’s throat made him feel warmer. Maybe there were multiple uses for humans.

Soap must’ve noticed his pointed ears and nodded. “I’ll find a way to work around everything, sir.”

Ghost moved so he was speaking directly in his ear. “Good boy. And later, we can talk about this, huh?” He grabbed Soap’s hands, discreetly dusting them off before turning to everyone else once again.

Interviewer: So how you feeling?

Soap: I’d never be so fucking horny in my life. He called me a good boy.

Interviewer notes that Soap is still flushed: Right. He didn’t even care that you murdered someone

Soap: He just covered it up for me! That’s so against Vampire Code but he just brushed my hands off. And did you see his face??

Interviewer: He’s prettier than I was expecting.

Soap: So pretty! I can finally draw him accurately. He’s a lot paler than I was expecting, but he is British. Also, he doesn’t have any scars. That also caught me off guard. He constantly mentions them but I didn’t see anything.

Interviewer: Maybe they’re not on his face? Or he means mentally?

Soap: He’s so dreamy. And when he put his hands around my throat… What a man.

Interviewer: You know what, I think we’ve covered everything for now.

Everyone was squabbling. Ghost used Johnny as a stress ball, squeezing his arm carefully before letting go and repeating. The louds noises and the air on his face was… what was the word Soap used that one time?

Overstimulating? That was it. Overstimulating.

“What do we do about the lady?” Alejandro held up Malika. “If someone finds out we were part of a plot to steal a familiar, it could mean banishment or being forced into the sun.”

Ghost considered their options. With the vampire dead, he would have to convince them not to take Malika back. They could just cover all of this.

Price nodded. “Well, obviously we have to take them back.”

“No. If we take them back, it implicates us. The best thing is to just get rid of her.” If she was gone, no witnesses.

Farah snarled at him. “Absolutely not.”

They’d have to kill two werewolves too. And then Laswell. Ghost did not want to get rid of Laswell. Neither did he particularly think they would be capable of killing Laswell.

Rodolfo hummed. “What if we just let them keep her? As long as everyone agrees to keep quiet, you can punish Soap and we can all move on.”

“Exactly!” Alejandro nodded. “No need to kill her for no reason. Clearly, Farah here went through a lot effort to get her back.”

“Wait, how do you guys know my name?”

“We’re good friends with Kate.” Price whispered to her, standing up. “Look, maybe I’m a little more traditional, but do you really think this is wise? Really?”

Ghost shrugged. “We knew nothing. It’s daylight. No vampire is going to be looking for her.” He rubbed the tips of his fingers together, feeling ash and bone dust. No vampire indeed.

Price shook his head. “I understand you got your claws and all, but I’m the oldest here. If someone stole Soap, would you seriously be okay with it?”

Ghost tightened his grip so fast Soap yelped in pain. “I’d never let my familiar get to such a state. I’d also never hold someone against their will.”

Price narrowed his eyes. “Implying something, Simon?”

Rodolfo gently pushed their guests to sit down. “Don’t ruin this for me. I’ve been waiting for these two to fight for ages.” He settled in. “There’s coffee in the kitchen as well as soda.”

Gaz materialized on the couch. “This is the perfect way to end a night fellows.”

Interviewer: What did you mean by that?

Rudy: They’ve been walking around each other for centuries. As long as I’ve known them, there’s been this… tension. I always assumed it was sexual ya know?

Interviewer: Uh, okay.

Rudy: But I’ve been waiting decades for them to just blow up at each other.

Alejandro: Anytime they’re alone with each other, it’s especially bad. It’s mostly from Ghost. I’ve been dying to know too. I think Ghost is angry about being turned.

Rudy: Why would Ghost hate being turned? Being a vampire is amazing. You don’t regret being turned, do you?

Alejandro: Mi noche, of course not.

Interviewer makes a note that Alejandro looks a little sad when Rudy put his arms around him.

Ghost hissed at him immediately. “Ghost. I told you my name is Ghost.”

“Will you let it go, Simon? You’re not human. I’m sorry that I was so selfish.” Price sounded so condescending.

“You were!” Simon shouted. “You were selfish!! I was supposed to die on that field. I was fine with it. A hero’s end. Cut down by an enemies blade.”

“I didn’t want you to die.”

“Why? Why not? What made you decide to change my fate there? I was just a soldier! I wasn’t important!”

Price shook his head. “I put so much time into you. Trying to make sure you were okay. Keeping you from dragging yourself into the sun. Do any of them know how many times I had to feed you because you ripped your own fangs out? Tore at yourself until you barely were able to heal? Why can’t you just be thankful you’re alive?”

“Because I don’t want to be!”

The awkward silence that filled the room was suffocating.

“I wanted you to let me die. Just give me a fucking reason. You told me it was because I was special and then that I was the only person alive which I know wasn’t true. Then it was that I respected you. Wasn’t afraid. What was the real fucking answer? What reason did you have from taking my humanity away from me?”

Price stared at him before sighing. “I didn’t have a reason. I saw you among the other dying men. And that was it.”

Ghost stared at him. He felt the pinch of his fangs. The agony of ripping them out by the root. Feeling cold blood fill up his mouth and gush out from between his lips. He was always careful not to swallow because of how horribly sick it would make him. Wouldn’t fucking kill him though.

“You weren’t special, Simon. I just noticed you, lying on the ground, bleeding out. I thought you’d be appreciative.”

Ghost felt his ears ringing. “You thought wrong.”

“Clearly, Simon.”

“Ghost. Simon died a very long time ago.”

Price had brought him people. Random victims. He remember being unable to control himself once the blood started flowing. Price had encouraged it. Had tried to teach him how to survive. Unfortunately for Ghost and fortunately for Price, survival instincts did eventually step in. A year of trying to kill oneself with no luck… it still does things to a person.

“I didn’t kill you. You’re still right here.”

Ghost scowled. “You made sure of that. The girl leaves. They can have her. You’re not part of this coven or this household. Do any of them people who belong to this house have an objection?”

Rodolfo, Alejandro and Gaz all shook their heads in sync. All five of them were enraptured. Malika had just started to wake up but even she showed some interest.

Price frowned at him and he quickly stepped closer. “I’m sorry. I went too far there.”

Ghost yanked Soap along. “Tell Kate I said hi.” He was starving. The second hand blood from Rudy had already been ran through. He would’ve been fine until tonight if he hadn’t been woken up. But now, he couldn’t wait.

Soap jogged to keep up with him. “Sir…” He sounded hesitant, hand gently coming up to clasp on to Ghost’s arm. “That was pretty… intense.”

Ghost grabbed him and yanked him into his room, lifting him off the ground like a marionette. He set him on his coffin. “Johnny. Take off your shirt.”

Interviewer: So what went through your mind in that moment?

Soap: God I hope I don’t cry during sex with him.

Interviewer: Dios mio…

Soap slowly slipped his shirt off like he was unwrapping a present for Ghost. He looked shy, as if he didn’t regularly walk around shirtless during the summer. Before Ghost could even comment, he snapped the chain of his cross necklace and tossed it to the side. Big sign of trust dedicated to a person who planned on eating him.

“I can’t wait until nightfall. I’m not going to take too much.” Ghost grabbed him by his hair and forced his head back. His nose pressed right against his neck, seeking out his jugular and each of the little veins. It wasn’t really a question, more of a courtesy heads up that he would be feeding from. While doing this, he pressed himself between Johnny’s legs, trying to close the gap between them. He was just stealing warmth and he could always blame it on being hungry and upset. Other people loved when Ghost talked about his feelings.

Soap flushed impossibly bright. “Oh! Oh, yes, of course. Take what you need from me.” He buried his hands in Ghost’s hair. “Is this okay? I don’t want to touch you too much if you’re no-”

Ghost’s fangs slid into his throat. Just to the left of one of his jugular so he wouldn’t puncture it. He worried it would bleed too much and Soap may black out. Or worse.

Blood was never sweet. It was always savory or salty. Diet was a big part of it too. Healthier diets tasted better. Salt filled diets meant saltier blood. So on. So forth.

Soap was… Good. Really good. It made sense. He took good care of himself. But it surprised Ghost just how perfect he tasted.

Ghost groaned and sank in deeper. A leech. Maybe a tick would be better. Clamping his jaws into Johnny. Holding him so tight and drinking him until there was nothing left. Stealing the warmth from his veins.

Soap whimpered and Ghost slowly retracted his fangs. He closed his mouth over the wound and started to drink. His arms cradled Soap to his chest, enjoying how soft and hot he felt. The hands in his hair tightened their grip but they pulled him closer instead of pushing him away.

“I got you, Ghost.” Soap muttered to him and Ghost melted into his grip. He pulled away slowly to lap at the wound instead. Blood dribbled down Soap’s chest and his head ducked to follow the droplets back up his chest with his tongue.

Soap’s breath caught and Ghost felt him pressed against his hip. Humans get turned on by the strangest things.

Ghost finished feeding and pulled away once he was sure there was no more blood coming from the wound. He thought of ignoring the little problem Soap was having, but he thought it would be more fun to bother him about it.

“Into biting?”

Soap blushed. “I… I…”

“It’s a normal reaction, Love.” Ghost didn’t move. They were pressed against each other. “Do you need help?”

Soap just stared at him as Ghost undid his zipper. Maybe getting older came with personality changes. Maybe he was just more sadistic than he realized. Or he was looking for a distraction from earlier.

Soap made real pretty noises when Ghost got his hand around his cock. He wiped his mouth to use the little bit of blood and spit still around it as lube. Ghost stared down at Soap as he slowly moved his hands up and down. When Soap tried to look away, he grabbed his chin and made him look at him.

“Johnny. You killed someone today didn’t you?”

“It was on accident. I swear.”

“I know. I believe you. My little bodyguard huh. Protector of the innocent.” He sped up his hand and the way Soap’s thighs trembled wasn’t missed. Every time he reached the head, he’d play with his slit, using his precum to make the slide even better. “Never would’ve thought you’d have that in you. Bet you have a lot of secrets from me.”

“No. No, Ghost.” Soap grabbed his shoulders.

“You hid you were a perv. Getting off on being bitten.” Ghost spoke calmly to him, watching those ocean blue eyes fill up with tears. “Broke your necklace you were so desperate. So desperate for me.” He slowed his hand and Soap keened. “You were delicious by the way.”

Soap thrust up into his hand and nodded. “Thank you.”

“Maybe I should feed off you more often. Litter your neck with bites.” Ghost sank to his knees and deepthroated him. He forced Soap to be still since it had been a while since he had done this. He bobbed his head once he had adjusted and he purred around him when Soap finally came.

Soap was mumbling something and suddenly Ghost’s skin burned. He yanked back with a snarl and sank his nails into Soap’s hips, making him cry out.

“Do not bring up religion right now.”

“Sorry.” Soap squeaked out.

“You’re lucky you tasted good.” Ghost got up with a huff.

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writeforfandoms · 1 year

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Fall Into Me 2

Find my CoD masterlist and series masterlist

This fic does switch perspectives every chapter, just as an FYI. This chapter is unique in that we get a glimpse into all the guys, but after this it’ll be one character per chapter.

Warnings: Swearing, fluff. The OC here is Jewish and that does become a focal point later on. If that bothers you, turn around now.

Word count: 2.6k

Over the next week, Rose saw at least one of them every day. At least. She finally met Rodolfo, the last member of their team.

But as much as she tried to learn about them, asking them easy questions and enjoying their company, they were learning about her, too. Not that Rose gave them much - she had a quick quip or a deflection for most personal questions.

Soap was the one to catch her off guard.

“So, you got some lucky bloke waitin’ for you?” he asked late on Friday, leaning against the counter watching her make something extra caffeinated and extra sugary for him.

“What?” Rose blinked at him, honestly startled. “Me? No.” Her smile was a little wistful as she looked back down at the espresso brewing. “But I’m ready for a weekend, take a bit of time off.”

“I hear you.” Soap watched her carefully as she made a leaf in his foam.

“Here you go. I’ll probably close up after you, see if Carmen and I can get out of here a little early.”

He nodded, taking the cup. “Thanks, bonnie. Have a good weekend, aye?”

“You too.” Her smile was a little shy, as it was whenever he complimented her.

Soap took the stairs up to their floor, too impatient to wait for the elevator at the end of the day. Nobody had left yet, at least not when he went down for one last cup of coffee.

“Dunno how you drink that,” Ghost grunted, eyeing his cup as if it held something much worse than caffeine and sugar.

“It’s not bad,” Soap said with a shrug, taking an obnoxious sip.

“You’re just saying that because it’s her.” Gaz grinned when Soap nearly spit out the coffee at the unexpected tease.

“Oi–”

“Knock it off,” Price grumbled from his office. “I thought you were leaving early to go check out some new place?” The captain didn’t look up from his computer.

Gaz huffed at having his fun cut short but rallied again. “Rudy, you coming?”

“Sí,” he agreed, exchanging a look with Alejandro.

“Ghost?” Soap turned expectant eyes on his friend.

Ghost waved him off. “Got other things to do,” he grumbled.

Soap left it at that, just looking at Gaz and Rudy.

Gaz led the way back down the stairs, tossing his car keys between his hands. As they passed the coffee shop, all three men slowed, just enough to watch Rose counting out the till. She was swinging her hips, just a little, and Soap thought she must be humming along to whatever music was playing. Her curls were held back with a clip today, some falling over her shoulder as long, elegant fingers counted out cash.

And then they were outside, and Soap forced his mind from her and on to the night ahead.

–

Monday morning seemed busier than usual at the coffee shop. Gaz waited patiently in line, but Rose barely had time for more than an extra smile and an apology for the wait. Honestly, Gaz wasn’t sure how she did it all - watching her was making him tired. And he’d been on long ops before.

He took his morning tea upstairs, nodding his greeting to Price, and settled at his desk for the moment. The rest of the team trickled in, some carrying drinks like he did.

Gaz waited until nearly ten before he took his laptop down to the coffee shop, steps near-silent. Rose was leaning against the counter, frowning down at something, at least until he opened the door and she looked up.

“Hi Gaz.” Her smile was warm and welcoming, tugging something in his chest. “Refill for you?”

“If it’s no trouble.” He smiled at her, walking up to the register.

“For you? Never.” She turned away to start on his tea, and he watched the sway of her hips. “I asked Soap last week and he got all squirrely about it, but… what is it you do?” She glanced over her shoulder at him.

Gaz chuckled. “He’s just having fun at your expense,” he soothed. “Private security.”

“That’s a new one.” Rose turned to smile at him, amused. “I’ve seen lawyers, insurance agents, accountants, a couple bookies. But never private security.”

“Probably sounds more exciting than it is.”

“I’m sure you manage to have fun, regardless.”

Gaz smiled a little. “Seems you’ve got our number.”

“Not quite.” Something flashed in her eyes, a sort of awareness. “But I’ll get there, just you wait.” She winked, easing the atmosphere, and he huffed out a laugh.

“Mind if I sit here for a while?”

“Please, feel free.” She motioned to the tables. “That’s what they’re for.”

Gaz settled at a table where he could keep her in sight while he worked. His tea was perfect, as always. Really, he’d meant to tease Soap with that comment about it being her that made things special, but… maybe he hadn’t been so far off the mark.

And then she started humming along with the music playing from the speaker behind the bar. Her voice wasn’t technically the best Gaz had ever heard, but she could follow the music just fine.

(He’d absolutely deny watching her sway behind the counter, though.)

It was a peaceful way to spend the rest of his morning, and Gaz didn’t move until after the lunch rush had gone, keeping an eye on her and watching her unflagging cheer.

–

Rudy made his way down to the coffee shop on Tuesday afternoon. He and Ale had to go offsite to inspect a few things, so he had volunteered to get them coffee to go. Honestly, he was glad to have the chance to talk to Rose on his own. Just to get a better idea of what kind of person she was.

“Hi,” she greeted as soon as he walked in. “Rodolfo, right? What can I get for you today?”

He glanced around the coffee shop as he rattled off Ale’s order, and ended up copying it. Made things easier for him. The coffee shop was cute - four tables in the front offered a place to sit, with warm lighting keeping the whole shop cozy. Behind the bar was neat and tidy, although he knew it wasn’t always. The cookie display was filled and also clean. It was easy for him to see the love that went into a place like this.

“Penny for your thoughts?” She paused in front of him, gaze open though a hint of worry pinched the corners of her eyes.

“It’s very nice in here.” It was the first thing that came to mind, really. But apparently that was good enough, because her smile bloomed warm and bright for him.

“Thanks! Took me a while to get this place just the way I wanted it.”

“You did this yourself?” He didn’t try to hide the fact that he was impressed.

“Most of it, yeah.” She scratched the side of her nose, blushing a little. “Whoever operated it before me didn’t keep it up. It was pretty gross when I got it, but that worked in my favor. I got a big discount.”

Rudy chuckled quietly. “Still, you have done a lot with it. You should be proud.”

“I am.” The almost wistful tilt to her mouth said more, but he didn’t pry. It wasn’t his place. “Are you making any major changes to your office?”

Rudy shrugged. “I have not heard,” he admitted easily. “That would be up to the Captain. Ah, Price.”

Interest sparked in her eyes, and for a moment Rudy thought he would have to tell the team-approved misdirection. But she surprised him by simply nodding. “If I remember right, you’ve got lots of natural light up there. Could probably have a few plants.”

“Maybe.” Rudy blinked at her, surprised.

“Well, here are your coffees. If you drink Alejandro’s, I won’t tell if you don’t.” She winked at him.

Rudy laughed, holding up one coffee in a salute. “Gracias, bonita.” He chuckled at her little splutter behind him and walked out.

Well. She was certainly cute, and he was beginning to understand why some of the others got quite distracted around her.

–

Alejandro hadn’t intended to stay late on Wednesday, but, well… Needs must. And since needs must, he also needed a little pick-me-up.

So he jogged downstairs to get a coffee.

He caught Rose just as she was coming to the door, and he felt a twinge of regret. Especially since a glance at the nearest clock showed it was just after 6.

“Do you need a drink?” she asked, holding the door open for him.

“I apologize, I hadn’t realized the time.” He held up his hands, close to backing off. “I will go elsewhere.”

“Nonsense.” She motioned him in with a kind smile. “I’m not closed quite yet. What would you like?”

“Just a coffee.” A little reluctantly, he followed her up to the counter, watching as she lifted a portion of it to get to the machinery on the other side.

“Hazelnut? Vanilla? Raspberry?” She glanced back at him as she filled a cup most of the way, leaving room for cream.

“Just this is plenty.” He pulled out his wallet as she set the coffee in front of him.

“Don’t worry about it.” She waved off his money, still smiling. “I was just going to throw out the rest of the drip coffee by now anyway. You’re doing me a favor.”

Ale shook his head, though he was smiling. “You are too kind,” he murmured instead. “You are going home after this?”

“Just have to count out the till and lock up.” Rose didn’t rush him, though, instead working on putting things away while she chatted.

“You be safe, hm?” He almost winced after he said it. Almost.

But Rose didn’t take offense. If anything, she softened. “I always am,” she promised him. “I hope whatever you’re staying late for goes well.”

“If I survive, I’ll tell you tomorrow.” He smiled at her laugh, enjoying the sound of it even as he left. He stopped at the elevator and turned to look back through the glass doors, watching as she locked the doors. She caught his eye and waved before the elevator doors closed between them.

–

Ghost didn’t mind staying late. Not like he had a plethora of other places to be, after all. (And if occasionally that meant getting to shove Price out of his office to get some damn sleep, well, nobody was around to accuse him of it.)

It was nearly 1930 by the time he left the office, locking up behind him. The quiet of the building told him he was likely the last one out. Again, fine by him.

He paused on the ground floor, glancing around. The lights in the coffee shop were still on. Odd. She was never open this late.

For a moment he stood outside the glass door, looking in, debating with himself. He could continue home - it wasn’t his business, nor his problem.

Then he heard swearing from inside, tired and aggravated. Ghost huffed. Well. If nothing else, he’d throw Johnny at her tomorrow.

The door was open when he tried it, and he scowled a little. Risky. Anyone could walk in. (The irony of that statement was not lost to him.)

“We’re closed!” Rose called from the back.

“Left your door unlocked,” Ghost grunted, making his way up to the counter.

Rose was quick to appear from the back, hair back in a ponytail tonight. She blinked at him, startled, before she shook her head. “Knew I forgot something,” she muttered. “Thanks for letting me know, I’ll make sure to lock it.” But her smile was off, wan and tired.

“You should go home.” He crossed his arms over his chest, watching her.

Rose puffed up for a moment… and then deflated with a sigh. “You’re probably right,” she muttered, rubbing a hand over her eyes. “I’ll go soon.”

“It’s late.” He didn’t budge.

“It’s fine.” She was entirely too dismissive of her own safety.

Ghost narrowed his eyes at her. She tipped her chin, undaunted and defiant. His chuckle surprised the both of them. She had guts, that was for sure.

“I’ll wait for you.”

Her eyes narrowed at him, and he could practically see her examining and discarding arguments. “You won’t be budged, will you?”

“Nope.”

“Fine. Fine!” She threw her hands up in a mostly exaggerated show of annoyance. “Let me get my things.” Turning away, she muttered, “Those numbers will still be there tomorrow.”

Ah. Something in the books wasn’t adding up. Not his problem, but. Intel was always good to have. True to his word, Ghost stood there and waited as she gathered up her coat and purse from the back, turning off lights as she went.

“You didn’t have to wait for me.” Rose ushered him out ahead of her, and Ghost was amused enough to allow it. She was close to a foot shorter than him - there was no way she was moving him if he didn’t want to be moved.

“I know.” He kept his voice bland, standing by the door as she crouched to lock it.

“You’re not walking me home.” Her gaze was just a little wary. Good. She did have some sense, despite her friendliness.

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it.”

She huffed again but smiled. “I’m all set here. Have a good night.”

Ghost nodded, walking her to the door of the building and watching which direction she turned. He had to go the opposite way. But he hadn’t gone more than a few steps when she yelled back to him.

“Coffee is on me tomorrow!”

“I don’t drink coffee!” he yelled back, caught between amusement and annoyance.

Rose just laughed and ran across the street.

–

Price had finally heard enough of Soap’s mumbling about “Friday cookies” to go downstairs, if only to get the Scotsman to shut up for a while. Even though Soap had already eaten two.

Price just wanted some damn peace and quiet in his office.

The lunch rush had already been and gone when he walked in, but Rose was alone behind the counter. She looked tired, hair tied back messily with a few errant curls falling in her face. But she stood up straight with a smile as soon as she spotted him.

“Hi John! What can I get for you today?”

“Some of those cookies.” Price eyed the display case. They did look good. And they smelled good, which was a problem. “Six of each.”

“Coming right up.” She moved a little more carefully than normal, transferring the cookies into a box. “Anything else for you?”

Price was quiet for a moment, watching her. “You alright, love?” The endearment slipped out without his permission, but he couldn’t regret it when she blushed.

“Yeah, fine, just… rearranging some plans.” She glanced away from him, unable to hold eye contact. Lying. But this wasn’t an op, she was just the pretty coffee shop owner. So he didn’t push.

“Well, hope it works out for you.” He handed her more money than needed, as always. “The door is open, if you need anything.”

She blinked at him, openly startled by the offer. But before he could retract it or feel self-conscious, she smiled, warm and a little bashful and a lot hopeful. “Thank you, John.”

John took his box of cookies, only one thought on his mind as he headed back upstairs:

How had he not noticed she was so beautiful?

#cod fanfic #fall into me

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auspicioustidings · 6 months

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Lost Boys Part 5

Summary: Preacher gets needy and Alejandro offers his help.

If you're new here this is my very self-indulgent Lost Boys AU with CoD characters fic. It's all very dark and broody and everyone is looking to bang the mc :)

Words: 1.7k

CW: Smut, dubcon

Preacher threw herself hard into work. She had to really because anytime she let her mind drift she could hear Rudy’s words in her ear, feel König's hard length at her stomach, fucking taste Johnny. Had it been that long since she had been laid that one good fuck had turned her into a mess? Well it was possible, her last 6 months on Coney Island anyone she flirted with seemed to back off before it went anywhere. Keegan had been sympathetic at least, well as sympathetic as she could ever expect from him. Here meaning he told her he'd get her off if she begged real pretty. She had told him to fuck off, although if she had stayed there much longer she suspected he might have gotten what he wanted.

What she needed she thought was a non-threatening casual fuck buddy to get over it. Maybe. Best to hold off and see if she could fix this little problem herself first. Right now that meant focusing on work until she could sneak away on her break and relieve some tension in the nearest dinghy bathroom.

So that is what she did. She taught kids how to catch the brass rings for a free ride ticket, she held back a laugh at a teenage boy's attempt to flirt with her after his friends had goaded him into it, she was all in all a model employee who bantered away with customers. And then Alex popped in to give her a 15 minute break and she mumbled a thank you and excused herself to the bathroom.

It wasn't the worst bathroom she had ever been in to be totally fair, but it was pretty dire. Three stalls, all empty because she imagined people would rather just eat at one of the restaurants further down the boardwalk to have access to a clean and decent bathroom. Suited her just fine, meant she could lock herself into the stall that seemed least like a biohazard and lean her head against the coolness of the door while a hand snaked under the waistband of her jeans to slide experimentally against her clit.

Already she was sighing in relief, knowing that this was going to get rid of that roiling tension that had been just under the surface the whole morning after Rudy had whispered those words to her. Probably wouldn't be the best orgasm in the world, but sometimes quick and dirty was what needed to be done and she closed her eyes, one forearm bracing above her head, and went to work.

It was frustrating to have to pause when the door clicked open, but she'd just wait out whoever had the bad taste to come into this awful bathroom. The light rap on her stall door made her jump given that her head was pressing right against the thing.

“Occupied.”

“Oh chiquita I know, let me help.”

Jesus fucking Christ. That was Alejandro, that older surfer from the other day. She panicked, removing her hand even though he could probably here the scrape of her skin against the waistband and trying to get herself together.

“Sorry, what?”

“Open up.”

OK, surely he wasn't offering to… what the hell else would ‘let me help’ mean in this context though? But then how had he even known she was in here touching herself? That did get her to open the door, intent on getting a damn answer.

“Were you following me?”

Alejandro took her in, from dishevelled appearance to fiery eyes to flushed skin. When Rudy had all but promised him she wouldn't be able to survive her whole shift without some form of relief he had been only too delighted to thank him properly for that and then lie in wait.

It wasn't a full Sirens song that had her like this, no if Rudy had went full throttle she would already be naked on the beach begging them to take her. Just a little taste of it, just enough to have her needy but still in her right mind. If he was going to have this woman insane and begging it would be because she was desperate for him all on her own, not because he had her in his control from a song.

“Ah you looked uncomfortable chiquita, just being a good citizen and checking in no?”

God his stupid lopsided grin was so charming. He was blocking the stall doorway, leaning an arm on one side and towering over her. Fuck she was horny.

“As you can see I am just fine, but thanks for the concern” she replied through gritted teeth, desperate to get back to what she was doing and just bloody finish.

“Let me eat you out.”

Her cunt clenched almost fucking painfully around nothing.

“Oh my God.”

“Use your words properly, say yes.”

As if she could say anything else when her entire body was on fire from even the idea of it and he was in her space smelling of the ocean and looking at her without even attempting to hide how much he wanted her.

“Yes.”

Alejandro did not waste time. He didn't even close the stall door, he just went straight to his knees and all but ripped her jeans and panties down so he could stuff his mouth onto her cunt like he was starved for it.

“Fuck! Wait I- fuck it's too much” she hissed, one hand gripping for dear life on the top of the door and the other in his hair trying to pull him away so she could breathe.

He looked up at her and she swore his eyes were fully black, just a trick of the light, must be. He looked almost pissed off that she was trying to get him to slow the fuck down.

“Take it. Take it and thank me” he said, syrupy and deep, before stuffing his tongue right into her, nose bumping her clit and making her choke on her attempts to not scream.

It was so intense, fuck he was so intense. His tongue was precise, singularly focused on what most made the air punch out of her lungs in almost pained gasps. Whenever she got used to him fucking her with his tongue and caught her breath he would move to lap at her clit, whenever she finally managed to breathe through that he would suck hard on it. It was a decadent sort of torture.

She was rutting into his face embarrassingly quickly, desperate for release and being kept right on the edge. It was as if he was deliberately… oh for fake sake. She knew what he wanted from her and she wasn't happy about it, but she was going to fucking die if he didn't make her cum.

“Thank you” she all but spat at him.

Then and only then did he finally use the flat of his tongue to lick fully from her entrance to her clit before expertly swirling the tip where she needed it, sending her tumbling into an orgasm that had been ripped out of her with such intent it caused her knees to buckle.

He was unnaturally quick and strong, grabbing her legs to settle them on his shoulders and bracing one hand at her back so he could taste her pleasure even when she was boneless, not willing to move away just yet.

Fuck he was good, inhumanly good. Maybe he would work as a casual fuck buddy. Christ if this was just his tongue she could already imagine what he could do with his fingers, what he could do with his cock. When she finally got her legs about her again she groaned gently taking her own weight and pushing his head away from her. He went this time, leaning back on his feet and looking up at her in a pose that was just so incredibly debauched, especially since she could see his cock hard through his tight wetsuit leggings.

“That was… fuck me you are good at this. Thanks. Do you need me to…?"

“I will chiquita, but as much as I'd love to do it now so Alex can hear how you whine for me and report back to his masters, he's waiting on you to go back to work no?”

Preacher was not one to be embarrassed about sex, hell she quite enjoyed a bit of voyeurism. She really probably enjoyed a bit of everything. But following Alejandro’s eyeline to see Alex, her fucking boss, leaning casually against the main door watching the exchange, was making all the blood rush straight to her face.

“Shit” she yelped, pulling her panties and jeans back on properly and trying to fix herself to not look like an absolute slut who had been getting head in a dirty bathroom during her break.

“Fifteen minutes is up, back to it Preacher” he said, casually as if this was a normal situation.

Preacher tripped her way past a still kneeling Alejandro, looking back at him in a sort of questioning apology. He only grinned that fucking lopsided grin that made her want to get fucked right on this filthy floor.

“I- sorry, I need to go.”

“I know chiquita, Keller will keep me company no?”

Jesus fucking Christ. She slipped out past Alex, trying to ignore the stirrings of her arousal wanting to flare back to life when he bunched a hand in her hair as she passed to hold her there for a moment so he could shove his tongue down her throat with absolutely no warning, quick and sloppy, before letting her go and walking toward Alejandro.

Fuck. She got out of that stupid bathroom and back to work, absolutely point blank refusing to even consider that the two of them might be… was everyone here? Was this some sort of poly sex cult boardwalk? Alex had warned her off of everyone but the 141 but had watched her getting her mind blown by one of the surfers and did nothing to stop it. He might be getting his own mind blown right now.

And that was frankly none of her business she decided, stubbornly stretching out her muscles and climbing back onto the carousel for the rest of her shift.

#mhairiwrites #cod au #alejandro vargas #alejandro vargas x reader #alex keller #alex keller x reader #dunno what to tell you this is my feral little AU and if I want it to be a big poly sex cult then so be it #although for real I think Ale and Alex just fought about Preacher for a while #honestly no clue if they are fucking

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vcnillazelda · 1 year

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Hey, how a about Gaz x f!reader where reader is a rival of 141 and ends up kidnapping them. Reader joined the army a couple of months before Gaz so they know her well enough, so when she sees Gaz for the first time she’s like “who is this pretty thing” and flirts with him and stuff she even takes his hat before she leaves (she fr wears it everywhere) and he doesn’t get it back until she gets taken in for questioning or something. Tysm, have a good day :))

pretty boy

kyle “gaz” garrick x fem! reader

summary: the team slips up and ends up in a less than favourable situation, yet gaz gets quite the experience.

tags: kidnapping, enemies to lovers, dubcon affection, flirty! reader, gaz flirts back ngl, valeria is here too <3, mild spoilers, angst with a happy ending, eventual fluff, smoking, sharing cigarettes, paranoia, survivors guilt, not canon compliant

a/n: i low-key went above and beyond for this ngl- i just love him so much look at his pretty face 😭

✞———————❖———————✞

gaz wakes up, blinking a few times. he’s confused, his head is pounding, and most importantly he doesn’t recognise his surroundings. “what the…?” he whispers, memories slowly trickling back in to him. the team, something went wrong- their intel was wrong about el sin nombre. the enemy had the upper hand. “you’re awake.” a voice chimes. it’s awfully familiar, yet he can’t pin it. the door opens fully, and a woman steps in. valeria garza… el sin nombre. how did he end up with the boss out of everyone in the cartel. “fuck you.” gaz snarls, yet the woman just laughs. “feisty. i like that, it’s more satisfying to snuff them.” she mumbles, pistol vaguely brushing under his chin, tilting his head back. “here’s how this is going to go. you’ll tell me all the information you can offer about your little… operation- and in return, i’ll let you live.” she purrs, gaz tilts his head away. “over my dead body.” he grumbles, adrenaline spiking as her safety clicks off. “don’t test me.” valeria’s voice goes stern and icy.

“boss. alejandro wants to talk to you.” another voice says from the door, and she pulls away. “is that so? he finally come to his senses?” she asks, and you step in. “it appears so. i can take care of this one for you.” you state, and valeria chuckles. “i’d expect nothing less from you, novata.” valeria leans in, whispering something to you before leaving the room. you wait until the door is shut before turning to him, a soft smile on your lips. (rookie)

“aren’t you pretty.” you smile, slinking around his chair so he couldn’t see you. “who are you?” he demands, trying not to tense up as your fingers slide over his shoulders teasingly. “that’s not important… i wanna know about you.” your hand moves, index finger gently tapping his cheek. gaz tilts his head away. “you’re not getting anything from me.” he mutters, his wrists aching due to the binds around them. “that’s a shame. i was gonna do something nice, a quid pro quo….” you trail off, snatching his hat and placing it onto your own head as you move around him, taking a seat upon his lap. gaz sucks in a soft breath, averting your gaze, yet your slender fingers grasp his jaw, bringing him back. “look at me, pretty boy… tell me, how long have you been under the task force?” you ask, index and middle fingers gently stroking his skin. gaz feels weak.

“a few months, at least.” he mutters, cracking under your suffocating pressure. “is that so..?” you ask, voice a soft mumble as you take in his features. “yeah.” he responds, deciding on soaking in your visage as well, he wanted to remember so he could take you down- yet you’re so pretty, he can’t help but want you on his side. “why are you with el sin nombre?” he blurts out, and you chuckle. “my, you’re straightforward aren’t you?” you ask back, and he hums. “a little… i just wanna know the pretty girl on my lap a bit better.” he smiles, trying to use your own tactics against you whilst also genuinely trying to flirt with you. “i might tell you, if you tell me your name.” you reply, getting up. “gaz. my names gaz.”

you laugh again, and this time he feels a little confused. “what?” he asks, and you stifle your giggles. “do you think i was born yesterday? your real name, cutie.” you smile, hand resting upon the table before him. “kyle. what’s your name?” he knows it’s stupid to ask, and you simply smile sweetly, moving on. “my boss, el sin nombre- isn’t she cool? she wants some intel. normally i’d get it myself but you and your friends fell right into my honeytrap. it would be a shame to waste this time with just flirting.” you mumble, and kyle hums. “what if i want to flirt with you?” he asks, and you giggle. “you wouldn’t be the first.” you wink. “shame. i’d like having you on my side.” gaz gives a smile, and you hum. “is that so?” you ask, voice soft. “i don’t think we’d be that good of a match. i’m in a cartel.” he jumps at the opportunity. “we’d protect you. you don’t have to be here.” you laugh at his words. “baby, no one gets rid of el sin nombre. this little thing is just empty flirting.” you dismiss his attempts at a negotiation. he doesn’t know why, but gaz feels slightly hurt that you turned him down.

“i see.” he mumbles, and you give him a dramatic pout. “don’t be too sad, we can still talk.” you state, it’s meant to be patronising, yet gaz takes it straight to his heart. “i’d hope so. it would be a shame to lose a pretty face so soon.” you smile at his words. “you’re adorable. it’s such a shame i can’t keep you for myself.” you mutter, grasping his face with gentle palms. gaz smiles at you, and you pull away, looking at the door. “what’s wrong?” he asks, and you look back at him. “hm… gouging options…” you mumble, thumbs softly stroking his cheekbones. “and what would those options be?” he mutters. you smile again and gaz feels like he’s winning the olympics.

“come with me. i want to show you something…” you mumble, unsheathing your blade and cutting him free. “a risky move.” he mumbles, and you hum. “you wouldn’t hurt a pretty thing like me, i can see it in your eyes.” you pat his chest as he gets up. “how would you know?” he asks, and you giggle, grabbing his hand. “i just do.” you tug him along, opening the door. “be quiet. i wouldn’t want to hurt you.” you whisper, leading him through the hallways. gaz feels lost, simply following you blindly, for all he knew he could be walking to his death- yet he was doing it with a very pretty girl by his side.

as soon as the two of you step outside, the cold night air nips his face and he wishes he had his hat back to protect his ears from the freezing temperature- yet he doesn’t want to be rude, even if you kidnapped him and supposedly his friends… he would have to ask if you had his colleagues. “look.” you mumble, nudging his side as you sit upon a broken wall overlooking the road leading up to the base. “what am i looking at?” he asks, leaning upon the wall. you grasp his chin, tilting his head up from the road so he could see the view. “this is one of el sin nombre’s hideouts. it’s beautiful out here.” you mumble, showing gaz the quarry the hideout was hidden by. “it is beautiful.” he agrees, furrowing his brows. “why are you showing me this?”

“i’m tapped into your friends’ comms. they’re scanning through this area soon. i want you to have a look at where you’re going.” you point to the quarry, the gushing water distant. “i’m the only one here?” he asks, and you nod. “i promise, you’re the only one.” you tell him. “why are you helping me?” gaz asks, and you smile, it’s more sad now. “you’re too pretty for this place, kyle. go do what i couldn’t do.” you gesture to the open area around you. “what couldn’t you do?” you chuckle at his question. “i was in training at the task force you’re in, 141… i was in the same situation as you. i…” you trail off, taking a soft breath. “i’m kind of stuck here- but it’s okay. valeria’s nice enough to me.” you mumble, looking at some fireflies in the distance. gaz absorbs the information, blinking. “that’s why you’re helping me…” he mutters, and you nod. “come with me.” he states, drawing your gaze to his face.

“i can’t.” you deadpan, and he grasps your arm gently. “you can! we’re here, together. you said it yourself, my team is coming here soon-“ you cut gaz off by resting your palm against his chest. “gaz, listen. i cant. el sin nombre will kill me the second she finds out i did this for you. there’s no doubt in my mind she’ll figure it out, she’s smart like that…” you tell him, and gaz sighs. “so come with me, we can leave now.” he can’t believe he’s begging you, an enemy, to come with him- how would he explain that? “kyle…” you mumble, sighing softly as you got down from the wall. “i’d love to, really… but i cant.” you tell him. “please go.” you request, and gaz grasps your arms before you can leave. “not until i convince you to come with me. you don’t have to be here, you don’t have to be scared- i can help you.” he tells you, and you see the desperation to help you in his eyes. “no one can help me.” you tell him, leaning in.

your lips ghost over his, and he kisses you with the gentleness of someone holding a thin shard of glass. it’s short and fleeting yet so sweet. you seize the opportunity, pushing him with all your might so he tumbled over the wall. gaz yells at the suddenness, sliding and rolling down the hill, hitting his hip on a rock. he stumbles to his feet at the bottom, looking up. you give him a sad smile before dipping back into the warehouse. gaz let’s out a soft sigh, turning and running to the quarry where he would wait to be rescued.

weeks pass by, and gaz finally convinced alejandro to raid the warehouse, desperate to find you… hes kissed you once, but he didn’t even get your name. gaz feels like kicking himself, pacing as price rolls his eyes. “you’ll mark the carpet at this rate, son.” he states, and gaz lets out a soft hum; not responding any more than that. “sit down. relax. the boys will find your mystery girl.” the older man pats the chair beside him, and gaz sighs. “i can’t believe i didnt get her name…” he grumbles, and price chuckles. “heat of the moment, son. plenty of men do it.” he teases, backing off with fake surrender as gaz gives him a glare. “okay, okay. just sit down, you’re making me anxious.” price tells him, and he sighs. “fine…”

hours tick by, but eventually rudy pops his head into the break room. “gaz? there’s a girl in questioning. she wants to speak to you.” he states, and gaz immediately hops up, running to the rooms. he sees you through the two way mirror and immediately opens the door. alejandro looks over, giving him a nod. “i’ll take over, alejandro. thanks.” he mutters, taking the handcuff’s key from the older man and watching the other leave before closing the door. his gaze meets yours, and you give a small smile. “what happened?” he asks, immediately unlocking the cuffs around your wrists. “oh, sweet boy… no one can cross el sin nombre and go unpunished.” you smile, it’s sad and weak. “have you received medical aid?” he asks, cupping your face the way you did weeks ago. “no, not yet. your boss doesn’t trust me.” you reply, and gaz furrows his brows. “alejandro?” he asks, and you nod. “seems right…” he mutters, turning to leave. “hey..?” you grasp his wrist and he turns back. “im going to get you some medical aid.” he explains, and you chuckle softly. “it’s not that bad, trust me.” you assure him, pulling him back slowly. “alright…”

you watch him sit on the seat across from you. “you still have my hat?” he asks, and you smile, nodding a little. “yeah. haven’t taken it off since i met you.” you tell him. you seem less flirty in this environment, probably because of the environment- you most likely didn’t feel safe and gaz understood that. “what did they ask you?” he asks, and you shrug. “about el sin nombre’s plans. i told them all that i know, and i don’t know much.” you reply, and gaz nods. “are you joining us again?” gaz watches you laugh softly. “i doubt it, cutie.” you smile, it’s less pained. “why not?” he furrows his brows. “i worked with valeria garza. there’s no way your friends would trust me now.” you tell him, “i’m the one that arranged your kidnapping, too.” you add on, and gaz nods a little. “you’re also the one who let me go unharmed.”

“yeah..” you mumble, and gaz takes your hand in his. “stay with me. i’ll keep you safe.” he whispers. you give his hand a tight squeeze, as if it’s the affection you’ve been craving your whole life. “i wish i could… el sin nombre is probably arranging my assassination right now as we speak- she probably thinks i’m giving a lot more information than i have.” you sigh, thumb running over his knuckles as you stare at the table, lost. “why’d you put your life at risk just for me?” he asks, it’s a question that’s been nagging him since he got rescued. “you’re cute, not to mention smart and obviously skilled to get into 141. you’d be an awful waste of you died so early into your career. besides, i told you why on the wall.” you shrug, smiling rather innocently. “you like me..?” he asks, and you chuckle. “that’s what you gathered from that entire sentence?” you smile. “maybe.” he smiles back.

the conversation carries on. you’re much more comfortable, your flirty nature coming back as you grow to trust gaz with your safety. gaz’s cheeks hurt from smiling at you so much. it feels like an odd first date… yet you probably don’t see it that way. “i’ll ask price to let you back in… your file must be here somewhere, especially if you were marked as m.i.a.” gaz declares, you downcast your gaze. “you don’t have to.” you mutter, and gaz sighs. “i want to. think of it as me repaying you for saving me.” he responds, and you hum. “okay… but i don’t think it’s gonna work…” you reply. gaz nods, getting up, taking his hat back with a soft smile. “i’ll see what i can do for you.” he goes to walk away, yet you tug him back for the second time. standing, you pull him in and kiss his cheek. “thank you, kyle.” you mutter, sitting back down. “for what?” he asks, furrowing his brows. “for believing in me. it takes guts to accept an enemy.” you smile, and gaz sighs. “you’re no enemy. just a victim of circumstance.” he mutters, letting your palm slip from his as he leaves.

price looks skeptical. alejandro looks disgusted. rudy looks a little concerned. everyone looks extremely against him. “just trust me! she’s not as bad as them! she was one of us!” he argues despite no one saying anything. alejandro sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “and if she’s playing you? what if she spills all our intel to el sin nombre and betrays us?” the man argues back, and gaz steels his gaze. “you saw the condition she’s in. el sin nombre is no ally of hers anymore. she’s in the same boat as us now, whether you like it or not!” he steps forward, his index finger poking alejandro’s chest as if to challenge him. “you better watch your tone with me, pendejo-“ he snaps, tone low and dangerous until price steps in. “y/n was a good soldier. i trust her… we just need to give her time to see if she’s still the same soldier we knew.”

alejandro looks from gaz to price, then back at gaz. “you’re agreeing with him?” he asks, still unsure as he looks to price again. “i am. y/n’s not as dangerous as you think.” he pats the other man’s shoulder. “trust me on this, alejandro.” he mutters, and gaz tries not to hold his breath. “fine. but, any suspicious activity and i’m putting her under the ground.” he grumbles, storming out. rudy looks at gaz once more before following alejandro. “does this mean y/n’s back on the team?” johnny asks, and price nods. “i guess so.”

gaz finds you outside, smoking a cigarette. rudy’s in the window beside you, keeping an eye on you as he smokes too. “i didn’t know you smoked.” gaz states openly, rudy nods a little as you hum. “he’s the one who gave it to me.” you mutter, gesturing to rudy who takes a silent drag. “i’m supposed to have quit… now seems like a good time to have a cig though… want some?” you ask, offering gaz your cigarette. he hums, accepting it as rudy snuffs his cigarette bud, flicking it into the drain. “i’ll leave you two be.” he mumbles, leaving the window open as he walks off- probably to find alejandro. “so… you’re back on the team.” gaz tells you, handing your cigarette back. “is that so?” you ask, not sounding too interested. “you don’t sound thrilled. what’s up?” he asks, and you sigh. “i wont last long… i feel it. she’s out there.” you mumble. “she won’t get you. i’m here with you.” gaz assures you. his fingers gently nudge your palm, and you glance down, looking up at him. he gives you a soft smile, and you slowly tangle your fingers into his.

your training started up again, price was warm and kind, being quite gentle with you. you’re progressing well, already back up to scratch with the team. alejandro doesn’t entirely trust you, yet rudy does as the two of you smoke together, chatting idly about home. you’re on a mission, using yourself as bait to catch valeria, and gaz is with you the whole time, assuring you that you’re okay every 10 minutes. valeria is now cuffed hours later, and alejandro is leading her to the appropriate forces. she’s shouting about how she won’t be locked up for long, and will be let out in about 24 hours. her gaze meets yours over rudy’s shoulder and your breath hitches. “and you- ¡traidora! you’ll get what’s coming to you!” she threatens. you tense up, swallowing thickly as you boldly grab gaz’s hand. valeria gets into the calm with quite a fuss, and alejandro closes the door with a sigh. “glad that’s over with.” he mutters, walking back to the squad. (traitor!)

gaz tugs your hand softly, leading you away from the scene as everyone starts wrapping up. “don’t worry about her, love. she wont get you for as long as i live.” he mutters, leading you to the car. you don’t respond, squeezing his hand tightly for comfort as the two of you get into the backseat. “relax. she’s gonna be in custody. i hope she’ll be away forever, but knowing how corrupt the system is she’ll probably be out sooner than that…” he mumbles, glancing at you. “sorry- i didn’t mean it like that…” he adds on, pulling you into a hug. you hug back, sighing. “i’m not as scared anymore- but i’m still paranoid.” you mumble, and gaz nods. “anyone would be.” he reassures you, rubbing your back as he rests his head against yours. “hey, how about we take a night off tonight? just us?” gaz suggests and you pull away a little. “okay…”

you’re half asleep against gaz, what was supposed to be a movie night between the two of you in his room was now a movie in the background as he coddles you to his chest. you’ve had a stressful day, so he understands wanting to just wind down and relax. one thing has been bothering gaz throughout the night… the two of you were incredibly close, too close to be friends- you both kissed often. he remembers after your first mission back with the task force the two of you drank before making out until your lips were sore and swollen. the two of you even shared a bed, and were always at each other’s side, yet neither of you used a label. gaz would like a label… he’d like you to be his. gently, he shakes you, causing you to stir again. “wha..? what’s wrong?” you ask, hands pressing to his chest. “sorry… i just…. i’ve been thinking.”

“oh god-“ you joke, cuddling back into him. “what are we, y/n? are we like… a thing?” gaz asks, and you hum. “i dunno… i haven’t really thought about it.” you reply, gaz feels rejection building. “would… you like to be a thing?” he asks cautiously. you smile, kissing his neck softly. “if you’d have me, gaz.” you mumble. gaz beams, pulling away a little to kiss your lips as if he were a man starved. “i’d love to have you as mine.” he mutters, voice soft. “then i’m yours.” you reply, hand gently stroking his cheek as he kisses you again. “get some rest, love. you need it.” he tells you, kissing your forehead. you hum, cuddling close to his chest again as gaz closes his eyes. he never thought he’d say it, but he’s glad he got kidnapped.

#cod mwii #cod mw2 #mw x reader #modern warfare #modern warfare x reader #modern warfare x you #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #gaz cod #gaz mw2 #mw2 gaz #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x you #// 🍨 vcnillazelda #// 🍨 call of duty

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lethalchiralium · 1 year

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part 2 of the 1940's fic with simon please 😭

I think we all need it...LOL

make sure you're taking care of yourself, though! we love you ❤

Jubilee Line | Simon “Ghost” Riley x Wife!Reader

a/n: i can’t lie to y’all. this has been done for like two months, but i have been tweaking it and am still somehow still unhappy with it? it’s fine. i’m fine. i’m being an ass. PART THREE SOON I PROMISE (i have been taking care of myself, thanks babe!)

warnings: SET IN 1940’s AU. Mentions of war, sort of accurate WW2 event dates. Mentions of being a Prisoner of War, mentions of torture.

summary: Lieutenant Simon Riley was coming home. He was finally coming home to his beautiful wife, but little did he know that at the end of his journey, there would only be heartbreak.

This is the second part to You Leave Me Wounded and Bleeding!

“Hermano.”

Simon’s eyes flickered up from the ring in between his fingers, tugging it slightly on his leather ID tags. Alejandro looked at the ring before meeting Simon’s eyes.

“Married?”

The Lieutenant nodded, looking back to the ring, seeing how the once polished gold was now rough and scratched. He thought to polish it when he arrived home, hoping the jeweler in town was still there.

“How is Manchester, then?” Alejandro continued the interrogation, talking a lot more than he ever had before. Before the train ride across England, before the Japanese POW camp they were captive in, before the Pacific Theater. “And your wife? Any niños?”

Simon scratched his jaw a little, still staring at the ring. “No.” He’s thought about it when he was away - maybe it wasn’t so bad to have children to come home to. His wife was expected to have children by her young age and she was nervous about it, he was too. “Not yet, at least.” He wanted a daughter that looked just like his wife, wide smile and beautiful eyes. She would be named Winnie, short for Winter - a name that meant a lot to him.

“That’s too bad, hermano. Children are gifts,” He reminisced as he sat back in his train seat. Simon was all too aware of the emptiness of the train cabin now, noticing again that there was barely a handful of people on this train due to the amount of body bags in the other cars. It was a funeral train, and Simon could feel the ghosts all around him. Alejandro spoke again, “I used to take care of my little sister when I was young. I couldn’t imagine living without my family.”

“Are you married?” Simon gruffly pestered, the man opposite of him shrugged.

“Not yet.”

Simon hummed in response, his head then turned towards the window - rain pelted the glass. He let the ring fall, it hit his uniform with a dull thud. He wished then for the photo of her he usually kept in his breast pocket above his heart, but the camp had burned his last uniform and in turn, his last photo of you.

His friend cleared his throat, Simon did not move his gaze. “How long since you’ve been home?”

“Two and a half years.” The man answered, now settling his hands on his thighs. “Was sent home for six months since I was one of the first deployed from England.”

“Hermano, you have a lifetime of being on your knees and begging for forgiveness.” Alejandro’s boot hit his, Simon looked back to him. His friend sat forwards, resting his elbows on his knees. “You have a lot to make up for.”

Simon grunted in response, sitting back against his seat. “She’s waiting for me.”

Alejandro huffed with a smirk, shaking his head. “Estás tan seguro. Eres un tonto.” He wiped his face before continuing, “No wife should have to wait that long. It’s rough being alone for so long, and waiting for someone you don’t know is alive or dead?” He sighed again. “La habrá destrozado.”

“See, you’re speakin’ all this Spanish, and won’t tell me what you mean.” The Lieutenant glared at him.

“You’re a pendejo. A fool.” Alejandro pulled a Lucky Strike cigarette from his jacket, handing it to Simon.

He nodded and took it, still waiting for Alejandro to speak so he could demolish his idea. “Yeah? Why’s that?” He pulled out the brand new Zippo lighter from his pocket, flicking it open and igniting a flame. He held it out for Alejandro, who had his cigarette in his teeth and leaned forwards - lighting his. He sat back when he was content with his cigarette, pulling a drag while Simon lit his.

Alejandro blew the smoke from his mouth, crossed his ankles and spoke. “You should have let her go.” Simon’s eyes darkened. The Colonel glared at him before sitting forwards again, letting his cigarette settle between his fingers. “That is torture, being away from the one you love for so long. I’ve done it - it’s not something you can be fine with. It’s impossible to be okay if you’ll never know if they’re coming home in a uniform or a casket, hermano.”

“Been through it with ya fiancé?”

He leaned over to the wall of the cab, tapping his ashes into the ashtray. “Twice.”

Simon did the same, taking another drag before answering, “I didn’t do it on purpose.”

Alejandro blew a huff through his nose, eyes glaring at the Lieutenant. “You always have your soldiers go first, even though you have the priority.”

“Those muppets have kids, I don’t.” Ghost’s voice was flat, taking another drag and letting the smoke coil from his mouth.

“That’s the issue.” Alejandro kicked Ghost’s foot again. “You still have your wife.”

Dark eyes glared at the Colonel.

Alejandro continued. “You still had someone waiting for you.”

“Have, Vargas.” The man tapped the ashes of his cigarette in the ashtray before sitting straight up against his seat. “You’re wrong about her.” He took a long drag then, eyes staring out of the window, noticing how the trees and rainy fields turned into the outer city of Manchester. His heart jumped in his chest then, ready to jump out of the train and run home without any of his measly belongings.

He was ready to see you, his wife. Ready to settle his hands on her cheeks, kiss her like she had sculpted the sun with her bare hands. He was ready to hold her head to his chest, press her body into his because he had missed her. He wanted to hold her, tell her how he would make it up to her. Repaint the guest room, replace doors, get a dog, redo the siding. Anything she wanted, just so he could feel her skin underneath his fingertips.

The Colonel only hummed, taking a short drag before blowing the smoke through his nose. “You’re going to get hurt, hermano. I’d hate to see it.”

Simon finished speaking then, decided that if he were to continue, he’d pin Alejandro to his seat and press his knife into his friend’s throat. So, he took another long drag, watching as green trees went past with nothing but a whisper to the wind.

It was another hour before he had arrived at the Manchester Train Station, barely anyone stood in waiting for soldiers - he took in the familiar sight he hadn’t seen in years and scanned the crowd for his wife.

“Is she here?” Alejandro’s voice sounded from beside him.

Simon grunted. “Don’t see her. She’ll be at the house if she’s not here.”

“Okay.” Alejandro nodded as Simon walked forwards, his pace incredibly fast while the Colonel muttered, “Rezo por tu corazón, hermano.”

Simon didn’t take the time to admire how the streets were full of life, how the trees began to dim their lush colors - how as he got closer to his home, there was a ice cold thrum in his heart.

The lights were off, he noticed. He was halfway down his street, almost home - he could almost smell that perfume she loved so much. Alejandro was far behind, finally deciding to let Simon run home.

He stumbled up the porch, his hand engulfed the front door knob and he tried to twist it - it was locked. He growled in frustration before he looked up to the porch light shaped like a lantern and pulled up the little hood, digging his hand around until his fingers grasped the spare key. He didn’t even put the key back when he unlocked the door, shoving the door in and dropping his dufflebag to the floor.

He called your name, awaiting the sound of footsteps when his wife fluttered down the stairs. He waited in the foyer for a moment, nothing but silence canvased the house. His eyebrows furrowed, he walked forwards and into the kitchen - he almost walked into the living room to call his wife’s name again when he noticed a folded piece of paper, leaned against an old vase on the kitchen counter. He strode straight for it, only to take it in his hand.

Dear Simon,

I am writing to you this in case something happens. Something I cannot think about, something that can very well happen and I don’t wish to dwell upon it. These words are the only way I can express it if I am no longer able to voice them.

You’ve written me almost every week during this horrible time, about every thought and moment that caused you pain. It hurts me to know that I cannot ease your agony. It pains me that I cannot be by your side, even for a fleeting moment. You have such a kind soul, Simon Riley. I can only imagine how it will all of this affect you after the war.

Even long after your letters have stopped arriving, no British Army soldiers have appeared upon our doorstep yet - no telegrams have graced my fingers with your name upon them. That must mean something, right? That you are safe, breathing? For the past two and a half years, I’ve waited for your return; not to mention the three years before that. The danger is gone now, Simon, and you’re not here. They’ve been arriving by the train load for the past week, and none of the lists have your name. I musn’t worry, I know you will come back to me. You have a habit of keeping promises, my love - as well as secrets.

I’ve heard stories from wives, whispers among the streets about some soldiers coming home and no longer being themselves. They’re hollow, lifeless - I’ve seen a few myself. It is like the undead have invaded Manchester, they walk about with no emotion in their eye, no care for their family as they walk beside them. I’ve watched them from our bookstore, watching as their small children tug on their father’s hands and he vaguely responds with a lifeless smile, sending them away from himself. Their wives do not give away any note of worry, perfect smiles and small touches to their husbands as if to comfort them in a small way. It’s not hard to recognize the wife’s pain, it’s a pain I hope I will never know.

I’m scared, Simon. Terrified, really. What if you do not step off that train tomorrow? What will I do if I must return home in silence, no longer in your grasp? No longer sleep without the knowledge that you’ll be coming home? Well, I suppose I haven’t had that knowledge since February, but it still feels crushing to say. What will I do if you return to me and you are no longer yourself? I know war must change a man but I’m not sure how I will live if I never see your smile again.

What will I do if you do not return? Will I become like the hundreds of widowed wives, crying forever and waiting for their husband’s remains to return home? Will I be able to go to the plaza everyday, knowing that you’ve touched this place before? Will I be able to stay in our home that you’ve put sweat and blood into, just for us? I can’t think anymore of it.

I don’t think I could ever understand it, that I would ever want to. We’ve talked about it, but it still doesn’t make the ache in my soul any lighter. I cannot think of you anymore, it feels like my heart is playing a melancholy tune on a piano well beyond its years; playing a song I never knew it had memorized. And it’s like my fingers are stuck to the keys, dancing ever so slowly as if the crescendo in the sheet music keeps darting away. The climax of our story hasn’t even crossed the page yet; I keep playing this haunted tune and I don’t want to anymore. I want to rip my fingers from the keys and push myself away from the piano. But I only play this tune as I wait for you, only when you’re away from me. What will I do if this will be the only song I can play for the rest of my life?

My mother sent for me. This morning, actually. I was sitting in the study, going through the mail. My father is dying back home in America, and I must go. But I feel that I cannot leave here without knowing. I cannot leave our home without knowing if I get to kiss you or kiss the stone that will lay above your head.

I’ve wondered what it would be like for you if I leave for America this very moment. You place your key into the lock, twisting it and opening up the front door. The house would be dark, no warmth from the fireplace, nothing to signal that I would be home. Maybe you would think I abandoned you, maybe you would think I had perished. But, I know you. There will be no need to worry, Simon.

I’ve waited so long for you. So long for our life to grow, to spend more than a fleeting moment behind a bookshelf like we did when we were young. I’ve sat in every room of our home, praying and wishing for your safe return. I’ve hoped and wished so hard that I feel that the universe no longer hears me. Oh Simon, I’ve waited centuries in the collective almost six years you have been gone from my side. I’m not sure if I can wait any longer.

I will love you forever. Even if you have left this precious Earth, even if your feet still tread upon it. But I can’t wait for a ghost when I have been waiting for my husband almost our entire marriage. My father is stable enough, they believe. He has two months to live. And because I love you, Simon, I will wait exactly one month after the last train arrives in Manchester with a list of soldiers.

And if you arrive when I have gone, I am sorry. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to come back to our home empty handed, even if you are there - because you always leave. You always leave and I have always needed you, Simon. Always. You have hurt me in unimaginable ways, my love, even if you always find your way back home to me. So, just this once - I will be the one leaving. I can’t come back. I won’t come back. I won’t come back to a house that is no longer ours. I will not come back to a house that is just mine.

I love you, Simon Riley. Don’t ever forget it.

Forever yours,

Y/N.

It only took him two minutes to read the letter.

It crumbled into a ball in Simon’s hand, the scarred palm of his right hand stung before he let it fall to the kitchen counter, abandoned.

It had taken him a month and a half to return from a prisoner camp in the Pacific. Alejandro and him were captured on their way back to base, tortured until the camp had finally gotten word that the war was over on the 25th of September. It was October 10th, past how long she would have stayed and waited with bated breath for him to return to her arms.

All he could think of was her. Every burn, slash, gunshot; every time they choked him, beat him, they could not erase the woman that was his wife. She was the only reason why he even made it through, why he was even alive. He had to make it home to her.

And now that he was home? She had gone. Flown from their nest, gone back home to her family. And all he could do was see red. He wanted to punch holes into the walls of his house, scream until his throat bled - but all he did was chase her ghost upstairs, almost busting his bedroom door off of the hinges when he burst into the room. The bed made, lights turned off - he ripped open the wardrobe, seeing that some of her favorite dresses had gone, but not all. Opened the dresser, seeing that it was empty of her belongings and all that was left were his undershirts. Half of them were gone too.

He turned back to the bed, he could almost see her laying there, a smile on her face as she would say, “Come to bed.”

He kneeled, tugging an old suitcase out from under the bed, standing and throwing it open upon the comforter. It was dusted, he didn’t even bother to cough when he rummaged through their papers. He pulled out his passport, flipping it open and seeing a different man upon the page. If this was another day Simon looked at his passport, he would’ve remembered a young man still in the throws of war, but he was still not what he is now. A villain, a monster.

A Ghost.

He slammed the passport closed when he made sure it was still in date. He shuffled through the papers again, seeing that hers was gone - but he began to notice papers that weren’t there before. He began to pull them out, one by one - seeing that they all had the same heading.

Dear Simon,

I don’t know how to

Dear Simon,

I don’t have the

Dear Simon,

I hate this. I can’t hate you. I can’t hate you I can’t hate you I can’t I can’t I can’t

Alejandro was right.

He had destroyed her.

It didn’t take him long to shove the passport in his jacket and bolt downstairs, skipping every other step. He grabbed his packed dufflebag and ripped open his front door, seeing Alejandro jump two feet in the air, dropping his cigarette.

“¡Qué carajo!” He sort of shouted as Ghost stomped past him, throwing his dufflebag on his back. Alejandro pulled closed his front door before running after the speeding Lieutenant. “What the fuck!”

“We have to go.” Alejandro grabbed his wrist but Ghost ripped his arm out of Alejandro’s grip, looking back at the man with a hollow expression. “She went home.”

“Hermano, lo siento.” He spoke immediately but Ghost didn’t stop walking when he turned back around. “¿Qué es lo que haces? Ghost, if she went home, that means-“

The Brit turned on his heel so fast that Alejandro couldn’t react when he was lifted into the air like a toothpick, the grip Ghost had on the man’s shirt sounded like it would rip at any second. He made direct eye contact and spat, “Her father is most likely dead. She can’t lose me too, so shut the fuck up, you muppet.”

Alejandro squawked, Ghost dropped him immediately and turned away, speed walking towards the train station. He called, “You know, I said I would escort you home, not to America!” The man didn’t respond, he just kept walking. Alejandro mumbled to himself before running to keep up, “Querido Señor, por favor, déjame matar a este hombre en un futuro próximo.”

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taglist (thanks for being patient my loves): @oranoyaora @dest-nai @rafaelacallinybbay @belyyvolksblog @its-astrotea-love @redzscare @multitargaryen @efsa-lks @thehoneybunny @punziesworld @fanformany @ivycasket

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#simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #lethalchiralium #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x fem!reader #simon ghost riley cod #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley call of duty #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon riley x you #simon riley cod #simon riley call of duty #simon riley mw2 #simon riley x wife!reader #simon ghost riley x wife!reader

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yiminsuu · 1 year

Text

Lágrimas Con Chocolate

(trad.) Tears with chocolate.

Pairing: Alejandro Vargas x F!Reader

Warnings: Implied sexual themes (+18), kinda dub-con, rough sex, angst with comfort, some fluff, mentions of cheating, misunderstandings, Valeria is bestie, possessive Alejandro Vargas, pre-canon, Spanish words/phrases.

Author’s Note: I wanted to write an angsty fic so much but I’m a sucker for fluff, I failed.

My mind wonders as I expectantly as I cook dinner while waiting for my husband, Alejandro Vargas, to return home. It's been four months since I've seen him and I was joyful to finally embrace and kiss him after so long. The Colonel of the Mexican Special Forces is a busy man, but he always comes back and shows me how much he cherishes me, that he hasn't forgotten about me, and he never will...

An entire week passed since the date, and he was nowhere to be seen.

I called his family and there was no news about him or the sergeant, they were also expecting a letter from Alejandro. The anxiety increased in my chest and there was nothing that could calm it down, I didn't want to think of the worst outcome, I would have been informed of that by now. I pondered paying him and Los Vaqueros a visit with tacos, Rudy always loved mine and I hoped I would get to speak with Alejandro and see how stressed he is if he's working this much. I'm worried, very much so.

When I arrived safely at the Mexican Base I was greeted by Rudy, giggling when his eyes shined at seeing the tacos I made, and I walked inside to let my husband know I'm here, but as soon as I stopped by the door I hear laughing, his handsome chuckle and a female one. I gazed inside the room silently and slowly, trying not to alert them, and a gorgeous, young woman was getting close and personal with him, by the badges she displayed it seemed she has been in the force for quite some time, probably a year.

I almost sobbed when she got near him, touching him as if he belonged to her, and Ale wasn't wearing his ring around the neck, not this time. So, this is why he couldn't come or send a letter for that matter, he was too busy seducing women to be concerned about his wife. I stepped away and ignored Rudy on the way out along with other soldiers, everyone giving me worried looks as tears ran down my cheeks.

Days went along just fine, the sadness is there, and I had broken cups and plates by my own stupid distractions. My mind couldn't seem to get them out of my head. I received calls now and then, but I was too busy sulking in bed or on the couch to get them, and I did all I could to amuse myself a little because this was about me, yet... Wherever I achieved that state of mind, his voice came back to my ears, praising me oh so lovingly and his hands touching me, fingers caressing my skin, his lips--

"Here you are, (Y/N)." I jumped in place, turning back to find Valeria with widened eyes. "The door was open, es como si quisieras que te roben."

"Valeria... Hola, que te trae?" I asked, leaving the book I was reading on the bed. Valeria is a long-time friend and colleague of Alejandro's, she was the one that introduced us and the first one to know we would get married, I had planned to name my daughter after her... If I ever have one. "Well, a bird told me you came by the base a few days ago, and I was so sad that you didn't come and say hola." Valeria was getting a bit dramatic now, but it was her way of making me smile cause she knows I'm going through a rough patch. Valeria knows when something is wrong. "I think going out would do you some good, no crees? Come on, I'll pay for anything you want."

"I can't go out with this face, Valeria."

"Oh please, you look as beautiful as the day you married, venga!"

This is how I stumbled into a cute bakery shop in Las Almas, a handsome young man was the owner after his father died in a tragic incident by El Cartel, and I thought to invite him home, simply to make a friend. Needless to say, I had a lot of fun, it has been a while since I smiled like this, and I appreciated every second of it.

"(Y/N)?" My heartbeat increased when I heard my name spoken by the person that caused me this much sadness. The young baker and I looked at the entrance of the corridor, watching Alejandro staring at the stranger next to me with a small glare, I coughed uncomfortably and gave him his jacket. "Thank you for today, I'll come by the bakery tomorrow. Buenas noches." Once the poor guy was gone, Ale turned to me and I glanced anywhere but at him, unable to look into his eyes. "Mi amor, I come home to spend quality time with my esposa, and I find you with another man."

His words are passionate, yet it was like getting stabbed multiple times in the heart. There was a rare irritation growing in my chest. "Alejandro, we have to talk..." I muttered, feeling strange when my husband pulled me into his arms, his face buried in my neck. "What is it, mi corazón?" No words came out of my mouth as he continued to murmur sweet nothings into my ears, and with tears brimming in the corner of my eyes, I shoved him away. My action surprised him, I had never denied him like this.

"I-I would prefer if you didn't touch me in the time being... Not while the divorce is in progress..." There it is, I managed to say it quite easily, but my heart wasn't saying the same, it was denying me the comfort of being free from being hurt more than I already have. There was a silence I wasn't sure how to break, so I decided to step into my room to forget about tonight, however, I was stopped by Alejandro with a firm hold on my arm. He was shaking, and both of us were holding up tears, I know him like the palm of my hand and it bothered me like nothing ever has.

Alejandro let me go slowly and I immediately ran away, shutting the door behind me and sliding to the ground with agonizing pain. After some time, I heard the door of the house being closed and no noise came from inside, Ale left, probably to see his lover...

Am I that bad of a wife?

Was I ever enough?

Will everything be bright again in the future...?

The next morning, I took off the ring that once belonged to Alejandro's abuela, and spent the entire day caring for the house, keeping my mind as empty as I could. Cocking dinner for one was complicated, to say the least, the fact that the man I have loved for so long would do something like this leaves me with incessant sorrow. I got startled by a car stopping outside, and not even bothering to turn on the lights, I walked to the window and saw Alejandro stepping out of the vehicle and Valeria screaming at him to fix this or she'll kill him. Valeria knows what's happening since minute one and she's helping him?

Alejandro opens the door and his eyes widen like plates, I shrug my shoulders and ready myself to throw him out, but his lips met mine in a rough kiss. I whimpered with astonishment, hitting his chest to no avail as he wraps his arms around me, it was a mess of eager tongues and teeth and brief panic rushes in when we sink to the floor, his hands rushing to pull at clothes until there's nothing left. Behind the desperation and fear in his eyes, I could see the other thing... My palms were splayed on his chest, staring at the golden ring hanging from his neck.

I can feel his pounding heart as everything else fades and our bodies merge, soft moans and gasps fill the familiar silence of the house, he says my name and I've heard it a thousand times, but never like that, never so pained.

"(Y/N), mi vida... (Y/N)..."

Alejandro's fingers had combed through my hair, shoulders were red where teeth and lips had worked on my body. Brown eyes glinted as he saw what he'd made me, my arms wrapped around him as he pounded away between my legs, a hand rested on my breast, solid pressure kept still with his increasingly shattering control.

"Tu cuerpo solo pide por mi, verdad...?"

Then he shuddered, hands squeezing and hips pressing into me, sending a ripple of heat across my skin, I said nothing and settled into his grasp. His hot skin soothed me, and his strength arranged us to his liking, and I melted into his touch instantly. Alejandro's panting breath was a lullaby as the thrust of his cock between my legs turned rougher.

"Dime que me amas, hermosa... Dime que me amas como yo te amo a ti, y solo a ti..."

Ecstasy rushed through my veins as we reached the peak, and I let myself fall into a sweet slumber, feeling Alejandro carrying me back to what was once our room.

I awoke to find a pair of arms wrapped around me and my back pressed against a chest, I lifted my head to see Ale sleeping soundly. The events of last night slowly returned to me and my heart skips a beat at the mere thought of him still loving me, I heard him shift and he opened his eyes to stare at mine. "Hey..." He muttered, his thumb caressing my arm softly.

"Hi..." I said, almost in a whisper that he wouldn't be able to hear, luckily, he did.

"Why didn't you tell me you visited the Mexican Base? I knew the smell of those tacos from somewhere..." Alejandro paused for a small moment, sighing deeply. "That day was... Sincerely one of the worst. I get informed that many of my sergeants were killed by El Cartel, so I had to stay doing more paperwork, I lost the ring after showering and I couldn't find it, there's a woman in the force that won't leave me be, even knowing I'm happily married." Ale flashed me a smile, and my cheeks turned warm with embarrassment. "And my stunning wife visits me at work, and without knowing, I hurt her feelings."

"Y-You didn't do anyth--" Alejandro interrupts me with a serious expression. "Yes, I did. I should have transferred that soldier months back but with the ongoing plan to capture La Araña, I couldn't." It was all a misunderstanding, a terrible misunderstanding and we ended up hurting each other without reason, I have never felt so terrible in my life. "Ale, lo siento..."

"Yo también, mi amor. Now you see how hard you hold my heart in your pretty hands." Alejandro kisses my hands, proceeding to my chest, neck, cheeks, and lips. I smiled brightly and giggled the more kisses he peppered me with, then he reaches over to the nightstand and grabs his abuela's ring, well, now my ring as he slips it on my finger again. "(Y/N), if you ever say 'divorce' again I'll leave you without cumming as many times as I please."

"Y-Yes, Colonel." I love this man, but sometimes I'm scared of what he puts me through in the Vargas house.

#cod #cod modern warfare #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #mw2 #mw2 x reader #cod x reader #alejandro vargas #alejandro vargas x reader #call of duty x reader #alejandro vargas imagine #modern warfare imagine #oneshot

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amiramorozova · 2 years

Text

Tidemaker & Tracker, Dual Summoner & Darkling pt. 1 Amara’s Tale in 2nd army

My days as a Tidemaker are nothing to joke about. I remember the days home. My mom and dad are both Tidemakers so it was always a higher chance that I would be when I was born. They raised me to be strong but told me only my soulmate would bring me joy...that the life I would live would not be easy. That when I was older I could try to date but the odds I stayed with that person were unlikely unless they were my soulmate.

I was thirteen when testers found me, found out I was a tidemaker. My parents..they didn't even fight to keep me...not when the royals were providing funds for the grisha who went to the little palace. I hated them, I resented them for sending me away but I never wished harm on them despite my resentment and if I ever had a child of my own I wasn't going to hand her or him over so easily.. It was when I was brought there did I meet the General. He was welcoming since I was Grisha but other than that I had nothing to do with him.

"Hello Amara. Welcome to the little palace." He said

"Thank you General." I said

Baghra was my teacher growing up and during the years leading up to 2nd army I was a trouble maker. I didn't mind it since I was basically abandoned and when I entered 2nd army and was assigned I took it in stride.

When I was seventeen I was fitted for a kefta like those before me, I'd been a loner but I'd also made some friends. Friends I fought with and trained hard with to get better. Most of the girls crushed on the General but not me. I knew he was not my Grisha soulmate so I kept focus with training.

When I was good enough and stationed out to help I worked hard but then that's how I met him, my Grisha soulmate. Alejandro Silina. Tall, dark hair, dark eyes but I felt this tingling on my neck the moment my eyes met his. He looked at his wrist seeing a Tidemaker symbol on his wrist. It was odd but I did not know what he was until I pulled out the little mirror I kept seeing the Sun Symbol.

"You're my soulmate." We said at the same time

we laughed at each other knowing it wasn't that often you find your Grisha soulmate that is not in the war. Yet he was a Sun Summoner, he could help bring down the fold and here he was in regular clothes. I didn't have a chance to do but when I was scouting the area he showed back up as he leaned against a tree. "So you're a Tidemaker." He said as I looked at him "And you're a Sun Summoner..you are not part of 2nd army." I retorted

Alejandro walked over to me looking in my eyes as he put a hand on my cheek. "I'm older than I look, but I've waited a long time for you." He said as I blushed. He was not what I expected for a Sun Summoner and most people thought Sun Summoners didn't exist. Yet here was one infront of me. "I have to get back to my post.." I said as I walked away but he grabbed my wrist and I looked at him. "Meet me soon" He said

I dated him in secret for awhile but I still had to work in 2nd army. I did not want to and there were a few incidents I came across the enemy. But every time they were about to do the final blow they were cut down by the General. I grew a fond of respect for him and for saving my life but eventually after so long I put in the request to get out once Alejandro asked me to Marry him.

It was about a week before I was called into the room to talk with him, I was nervous more than anything as he seemed to be calm. "Amara, you're requesting to retire from 2nd army early. Why?" General asked as I looked at him. The only Shadow summoner in 2nd army that I wish I knew the future that my child would be this man's grisha soulmate, but no Grisha has that small science. "I found my soulmate, my Grisha soulmate. I want to go live with him, get married and have a family." I said

He seemed to consider it as I was asking simple things, leave permanently and to have a family that I was surprised when he granted me the freedom. I looked over the contract he wrote up as I saw that if my child was Grisha which she or he would more than likely be then I was to hand the child over to take my place in 2nd army. I knew the risk but I signed it and he shook my hand to which I started my life.

Like I said if I knew what I know now, that one of my daughters would be his Grisha soulmate. I might have reconsidered the whole thing..but I did have children. Two girls, Amira and Sierra but I did not keep my condition..Alejandro refused after Amira who was the one I promised showed signs of being Sun Summoner. I'll never forget his words

"No daughter of mine is going around the black heretic." Alejandro said

the black heretic? I was shocked that he knew that and I knew that my girls needed safe. As they grew we figured out one is Tidemaker which is Sierra and Amira is Sun Summoner and Tidemaker. It's a rare gene but it's possible I suppose, my sister-in-law had a son who also had the rare genetics. Inferni and Tidemaker but we found out that if they had kids of their own it could be dangerous. We didn't know then what we late found out.

As my girls were growing I knew what I'd promised but Alejandro was clear we were not giving the girls to 2nd army...I just hope it wouldn't come back to harm us later.

TagList: @lifeisingrey, @houseoftoomanyfandoms, @mizelophsun11, @budugu

#Tidemaker&TrackerDualSummoner&Darkling #shadow and bone #Grishaverse #shadow and bone fanfiction #fanfic #aleksander morovoza #general kirigan #darkling #tidemaker #sunsummoner #amara cortez #Alejandro Silina

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courtney-deserved-better · 3 years

Note

whats ur writing schedule/process like! not in a “write faster” way, but i think once you mentioned writing in script form? and i like the way you wrote ur most recent fic! just curious bc ur works are just really good :)

this is a great question!!

if its not slippery slopes, ill usually get an idea for something and periodically jot down notes when they come to me until I feel like i have enough information to start writing (or if im just motivated), that's what i did for my horror challenge rewrite. and for stuff that's like... rewrites of an episode that aren't as character-focused as slippery slopes, i usually read the episode transcripts and try to replicate that total drama style with my own writing

for shorter oneshots, i usually just get a vague idea and run with it until i find a good ending spot, then i go back and clean it up a bit so the structure works

slippery slopes is an... interesting cycle. chapters are getting long enough that i cant just write them in one sitting any more (i think ch5 was the last chapter i did that for) and instead ill agonize over the beginning (always the hardest part to write for me) but once i get going with that i usually finish the chapter within a few days. then i reread the previous chapter to make sure it flows ok (and there aren't any contradictions) and then ill give myself a break where i dont do anything total drama related before coming back to edit and post. though before I do all that I type up notes and rough dialogue bits

and then once i post it it's like... a weight off my chest? like ive been purged or something?? idk its a weird sensation but im just like i Physically Cannot Write Anything For This Right Now and i don't start on the next chapter until that goes away. and then i either start the beginning and do nothing for a week before going back and finishing the chapter or i go into a manic state and write nonstop for a few days. right now i haven't reached a point where im ready to begin writing chapter 10 but i have a lot of notes for it.

(also as soon as i finish posting a chapter i try not to go on my laptop for like 12 hours so i don't obsessively refresh my email for comments. i love reading comments so much holy shit. please comment guys it makes fic authors feel so happy we will love you for it)

as for scripts: i am working on being a writer professionally, but specifically a playwright. writing in a script format comes more naturally to me than writing prose. funnily enough, i started posting fanfic just to practice my prose (and fix stuff in cobra kai that i didnt like) but things sort of... ended up here? idk man but im enjoying it.

right, so because writing in a script format is easier when im really struggling with a section in a fic ill usually scrap whatever i had and write it like a script, then translate that into prose. i was very excited to write the family videos for chapter 9 of slippery slopes, but i was Having Issues, so i redid it as a script and then rewrote that as prose. ill put the script version under the cut if you're interested in that.

but thank you so much for the question!! i do think my writing process is a bit unconventional but hey i think things are turning out well! if you have any more questions feel free to send them in!!

ok here is the last scene of ch 9 of slippery slopes in script format:

[SIERRA]

MOM: Hi honey! Omigosh this is so exciting! I bet you’re having such a great time! Especially since Chris is there! Is Chris watching this? Hi Chris! You know, I loooved you on that ice skating show. Your hair was fantastic! Well, it always is, haha. Do you really make your own hair gel? I’ve been trying to perfect the recipe but you’re just so hard to track down! Oh, you’re such a funny guy! I laughed sooo hard when you made all those jokes about marrying Chef.

Chef: hey!

Chris: ok just for the record, I wasn’t joking, we are married, Sierra tell your mom we’re married

Sierra: …can we just turn it off please

[COURTNEY]

DAD: Courtney, sayang, I know you’ve been going through a lot right now—

MOM: So you’d BETTER make it count. You’ve made it this far before, I want to see you getting all the way to the finale this time. And winning it. Enough moping about those hideous, good-for-nothing slackers! That’s what you get for hanging around freaks like them. You’re doing this for the million, now get the million. Is that clear?

ZARINA: And kick ass!

DAD: Zarina!

Video cuts out.

Alejandro: courtney you good?

Courtney: no, she’s right. Mama didn’t raise no quitter

Alejandro: [knows she’s still upset about duncan and gwen]

[ALEJANDRO]

MOM: Hola, Alejandro. We hope you are doing well, especially in such unsavory conditions. I’m glad to see you’ve made it to the final four— we expected nothing less, of course.

DAD: You have been utilizing your skills quite well. Though I wish you hadn’t been so… blatant about it. You’ll have to work twice as hard once this is over to convince people you’re trustworthy. But surely you were aware of that going into this… odd endeavor. That’s just politics. Reputation is everything.

JOSE: [snorts] Oh, and what a reputation you have, Al. I could easily compile hours of footage of your failures, but I, unlike you, do not waste my time on the frivolities of reality television. Though you always have been lacking in taste. Especially with that bratty girlfriend of yours— oh, my mistake, aren’t you dating the whiny weakling? It’s so hard to keep track! [laughs]

Alejandro: callate!

MOM: I’m sure Alejandro is just working an angle on them.

DAD: Whatever the case is, do not disappoint us.

[NOAH]

MOM: Hi Noah, I’m sorry, I don’t have time to record a full video, but I’m proud of you! Here are your sisters!

ISWARI: A million dollars? A million [bleep] dollars? Win it, Noah! Win it!

RUTH: Dude!! This is crazy! I know you can do this— good luck! Ark misses you! [holds up Ark who barks]

MARA: Are you insane? Why aren’t you dating Alejandro already?

Noah: shut up, mara, just because you can’t keep a boyfriend—

ANYA: Don’t let ‘em trick you! No mercy! Crush their skulls if you have to— no, wait, you’re not strong enough for that. We’ll get there!

LIYA: I say this as your sister, someone who loves you but is constantly annoyed by you— for someone who is quite literally a genius, you sure can be an idiot sometimes.

BALLARI: Okay, I literally have no idea how you’ve made it this far without an athletic bone in your body— are we sure you aren’t adopted? I’m kidding

ABS: You’re stubborn as hell when it comes to me, so you better be stubborn as hell when it comes to winning! And when you do win, get me a frozen yogurt machine, will you? I promise I won’t make you rock climb again!

JAEL: If you lose this, I’ll kill you with this racket. And then use your guts to make myself a new racket. So don’t fuck it up. Again.

Noah: [frozen, ashamed]

Sierra: well that was a mess

Courtney: ok show of hands, who felt better after hearing that? [no one raises hands]

Chris: yeah I was expecting this to be a lot more heartwarming…

Chef: chris just look at them. If they had stable home lives they wouldn’t be doing reality tv

Alejandro: can we please stop talking about this. Also aren’t you supposed to be flying the plane

Chef: oh fuck

Chris: yeah sure. I think im gonna call my mom

Everyone: …

Noah: ok so that was really shitty. Why dont we all go to first class and try and ignore our problems

Everyone: yeah ok sounds good

***

Courtney: so that sucked

Alejandro: at least your dad seems ok

Courtney: true. What are your guys dads like

Noah and Sierra: bold of you to assume I know my dad. Jinx

***

Alejandro: that last girl… you mentioned a sister who does tennis and hates you

Noah: yep

Alejandro: why?

Noah: none of your business. but… it is pretty justified

#slippery slopes #ask #anon #total drama #writing #fic #my fic

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ink-fireplace-coffee · 3 years

Text

Short Story: Kiss me, for I am dying.

A/N: this story was crafted yesterday at midnight so I can't assure the quality of it at all. It is inspired in a theatre/legend we have here in Spain called Los Amantes de Teruel, or The Teruel Lovers in english. It's like the Spanish less known version of Romeo and Juliet.

Word count: 1901.

TW: mentions of death.

I don't have a general taglist or anything on the sort, but @nathandoesntknow asked me to tag them, so here you go! enjoy my midnight weird af inspiration I guess.

------

Five months ago, Jaime would've just left if he saw that on the rooftop of the campus was already someone.

Five months ago, if he had seen that stranger sitting there- feet dangling in the air and looking at the sunset- was Isa, he would’ve turned on his heels and left before she could even so much but noticed him.

Or maybe he would’ve “asked” (more like demanded) her to go somewhere else.

Jaime and Isa hated each other. Pure and simple.

Ever since the first day of university, when Isa had given him a “you are annoying” look after Jaime had accidentally hitted her backpack, launching all her stuff through the hall.

No matter how many times he had tried to convince her that it hadn’t been on purpose, she had said that it was his fault over and over again.

If that wasn’t enough, they had not only been forced to sit next to each other for their whole third year (since it was extremely rude to tame someone else’s seat after the first week of classes) but they also were constantly competing on the top of the class.

If Isa had a 95% on the midterm, Jaime had a 98%.

If Jaime had scored a 9,9 out of ten in that essay, Isa had gotten the full mark.

Everyone saw it as a nice academic competition, the kind that made you better every day and it was healthy. Sometimes it could also be mistaken for a nice banter, or even a bit of university drama.

Isa and Jaime saw it as a live or die battle where only one of them could succeed.

Spanish had been the only subject Jaime had ever been really good at, for as long as he could remember. His zeroes in maths had always mattered less next to his tens in Spanish.

When he had told his father that his dream was to become a spanish teacher, the old man had simply nodded and said “I was not expecting less”. And so, one entrance exam to Salamanca’s university later, Jaime knew he was starting to walk the path of his future.

But while his passions were words formation, syntax and how the language had developed into today’s form; Isa had decided to study the career for a whole different reason.

It was clear that she felt completely herself when discussing novels and authors. Her essays on every single topic were excellent quality (even Jaime had to admit it) and they always provided a new, fresh way of thinking.

And maybe that's why some months ago, whatever they had agreed on had taken place.

Now, when the morning classes had already finished, Isa was already on the rooftop, a book in hand and a notebook resting on her legs.

“You are late. Again.” She remarked when she saw Jaime’s blond hair.

“Some of us have life, Isabel.” he answered in the same cold tone and took a seat in front of her.

“Being the teacher’s pet is not having a life.” They both held each other's gazes for a while, until instead of intimidating, they were staring.

The wind whooshed, making the students snap back.

Jaime cleared his throat and Isa focused on her book .“What are we revising today?” asked him.

She tapped the pages of her notebook with a pen. “Los Amantes de Teruel. Spanish version of Romeo and Juliet, I believe. Since you haven't finished it, even though it was due yesterday.” Isa added, a sassy remark included in her voice.

Jaime rolled his eyes.

Lovers of Teruel.

It is true that he had been stuck for three months in a 170 pages novel. But there were far more interesting things to do than read how two fools felt in love only to die at the end.

“I would've finished it if I hand’t been busy correcting someone’s homework.'' He remarked, as he searched for his own copy of the book inside his backpack.

Isa just scoffed, and gave him another “you are annoying” look. Jaime had to make an effort not to smile.

“You know? I wonder if those death stares are unically for me, like a personalized stare.”

“Oh, right, because you are so important in my life that I decided to give you an specific look whenever you say or do something stupid.”

“I mean… You asked me for help that day, so I guess I must be somewhat important, dear Isa.”

“I asked you for help?” she repeated, astonished “You were roaming this rooftop for weeks until I got fed up with how creepy it looked and told you to help me with that assignment, which, for the record, was perfect.”

That was true. Her assignment had been flawless, but Jaime would rather die than to admit that out loud.

“Are you planning on finishing this book with me or do you want to keep talking?” He grinned then “I’m sure there are a ton of other things you could use your mouth for, but I’d like to be prepared for my exam next week.”

Her slight blush felt like a personal win. Until she stroke back, of course.

“One: that is extremely gross, and I don’t want to know about the weird fantasies you have with my mouth. And two: it’s your turn ‘Diego’, so read.”

Since there was no point in reading plays in silence and to themselves, at the beginning of the book (three months ago), Jaime and Isa had divided the roles, taking the two main characters with them: he as Diego and her as Isabel.

“You were practically born for this role” had joked Jaime and Isa wondered how far from the ground they were… and how hard she would have to shove him.

They read some scenes out loud, stopping to make some points on the narrative, paraphrase or make a summary of what they got so far. If it was true that individually they worked really well, as a team it was almost magical.

“Kiss me, for I am dying” said Jaime/Diego for the second time. Isabel had just rejected his lover, since she had already married and didn’t wish to deceive her now husband.

“And then Diego dies because he can’t bear the pain that causes him not being able to love Isabel.” the girl closed her book, and got up, stretching “It’s late, we should go before the campus closes.”

Jaime nodded and tagged alone, but stayed quiet the whole time until they were about to leave the university.

Then, just before partying ways, the question escaped his lips “Would you kiss me if my life depended on it.?”

Both of them looked equally surprised. When he didn’t add anything else, Isa understood he was waiting for an answer.

Well, what do you answer when someone asks that without a warning?

If there’s one thing Isa had clear was that Jaime and her weren’t friends. They weren’t even study buddies! They were just two students of the same class who happened to help each other out every now and then…

And for what?

“Let’s be glad that it doesn't.” she finally said, and turned away, wanting to run as quickly as her legs could carry her.

Would you kiss me if my life depended on it?. Two college students were replaying the same question over and over in their heads. Tossing and turning, unable to sleep.

Isa didn’t have the guts to go back to the rooftop in the next few weeks. Since Jaime had handed in his essay on the novel, she had assumed he had finished it on his own.

That was good, right?

Now, both of them averted their eyes, and tried really hard not to cross paths.

What had been Jaime thinking when he asked that?! Oh right, he had been not thinking at all!

Still, not knowing the answer to the damn question was getting on his nerves. Not that he desperately wanted Isa to kiss him, that could never happen but…

Hypothetically he wanted to know.

Two weeks before finals, they both bumped into each other at the rooftop. Seeing Jaime’s figure -his back to her and his face to the orange sun-, made Isa stop on her tracks.

The door slammed closed and the guy turned around.

Awkwardness was all over the place.

“The library is super crowded and-” started to explain her. He nodded.

“I know, that’s why I’m here.”

A few minutes of silence and then:

“You finished the play.” commented Isa.

“Yeah, I did” Jaime rubbed his neck, nervous “Thanks for sharing your notes, by the way. They were really helpful.”

“Oh, um, no problem.”

“And, about that question…”

“It 's okay! You don’t have to explain anything.”

“No, really, I don’t know how it happened.”

“It’s fine, there’s no need to apologize, really.”

More silence in between them.

“I can go if you want me to.” offered then Jaime. She lifted up her gaze at him.

“The rooftop is big enough for the two of us, and I know you don't like studying at the library.”

Isa had been thinking about how much she noticed about Jaime without actually wanting to: his likes and dislikes, how he frowned slightly when there was a concept he was not following, his happy smiles whenever there was something he was pleased about…

He was grinning like that now.

“Earth calling Isa, are you there?” She blinked a few times.

“Yeah, totally. Here. Present.”

Jaime decided it was now or never.

He lifted up his hand, the one holding the book and showed it to her. "We never finished reading."

"You handed in your essay already. Why would we finish reading it?"

Clearly none of this was working. The guy slided his backpack on his shoulder. "I should go, Alejandro needs me for this book analysis-" he rambled.

"Go" Isa nodded and then smiled. "Teacher 's pet."

He just laughed awkwardly and headed out.

Isa had hated every single second of that conversation. Even if it's true they never had a friendly relationship, they had somewhat grown closer along the few months they had tutored each other.

What did Jaime really mean to her? He was insufferable sometimes, that's true. Arrogant in class and a stupid know-it-all…

But he was also brilliant. And he was kinder than he wanted to show: he had given her his jacket to go home when it was raining once; and even shared his notes with her when she had been sick.

The girl ran downstairs.

Jaime was about to go inside the teacher's office when she finally got to him. In a final effort after her sprint, she tried grabbing his arm.

The guy turned around, really surprised.

"Isa, what-"

"Ask me again." she demanded.

"What?"

"Ask. Me. Again" Isa pleaded out of breath. Her courage would flee anytime soon and then-

"Bésame, que me muero." he whispered.

Kiss me, for I'm dying.

Their lips touched.

"Do you like this ending better?" she asked after the kiss, a sly smile already forming.

He tipped his head back and laughed "Much better."

In Spain whenever someone mentions Lovers of Teruel, we have a saying that sort of finishes the sentence: stupid her and stupid him. Since they both die foolishly.

Luckily, we can assure that the sentence does not apply to Jaime nor Isa.

#short story: kiss me for i am dying #my writing #short story

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heathers-wig · 3 years

Text

come & find me - heathney hanahaki au part one

synopsis:

“Who’re the flowers for?” Eva interjects.

The question dances around in Heather’s head and leaks out of the others’ imploring glances, but Heather finds herself faltering as she struggles to answer.

“I don’t…” Heather frowns, thinking of the flowers welling up in her lungs that she’s sure will snuff out her life. Her frown melts into a scowl when she thinks of whoever her enamored was, and how they doubled as her soon-to-be inevitable murderer, along with how she didn’t even get the privilege to know their identity. “I don’t know.”

❁

Or: Heather contracts the Hanahaki Disease. Other than the fact that she’s quite literally slowly but surely dying due to flowers rooted to her lungs, she has a problem; she doesn’t know who exactly her unrequited love is for, or how to prevent the disease from worsening. Can she figure out who her “beloved” is and snuff out the floral illness before it claims her for once and for all?

pairings: heathney (heather x courtney), BG gweoff (gwen x geoff), BG izva (izzy x eva)

word count: 15,226

warnings: suicidal thoughts implications + descriptions of coughing/vomiting

A/N: there are two endings, happy and sad! feel free to choose which you deem as the true ending :) thank you for reading!

READ IT ON AO3 HERE!

i. daffodils & gardenias; unrequited and secret love

It starts with a petal. Well, if Heather were to be honest, it had started far beyond the first initial petal, but all the pieces fell into place when the very first petal fluttered from her lips.

Her science teacher was going on and on about the instructions for their next lab — something about carefully dissecting a pufferfish that had long since died, but Heather paid no mind to it.

Instead, she observes.

One of her favorite things to do was observe those around her. It was like dissecting them, similar to how her science teacher was now demonstrating on one of the pufferfish, and their internal thoughts and behaviors. Who they unconsciously drifted to, who they repelled and fought with — or, to be more precise, where the weak links in her class were located. With this frequent and diligent studying, she knew exactly how to break certain students and their allegedly tight-knit friend groups.

Take Bridgette, Geoff, and Alejandro, for instance; all Heather had done was slightly insinuate to the gullible, blonde girl that Alejandro liked her, and she was putty in her hands. Of course, Heather noticed Bridgette stare and stare at Alejandro nearly around the clock, but Geoff, Bridgette's actual boyfriend, hadn’t. She did him a favor, really — all it took was her to mastermind him walking in on Bridgette and Alejandro during a Halloween party, and Heather was satisfied.

Currently, Geoff and Bridgette were sitting awkwardly and stiffly next to one another — a huge mistake on their parts, in Heather’s opinion, to choose to sit next to one another after only beginning to date during the summer, but Heather had never had the patience for high school romances. Bridgette had tried to slide apology notes to Geoff’s direction, but for once, his eyes were glued to the board and the notes went unnoticed.

Heather noticed them, though, and she had to stifle a laugh.

The rest of the class is more or less the same. Some were pointedly looking away from the experiment their teacher was performing, and some were sketching in their notebooks, like Gwen.

There had to be three people genuinely paying attention — Geoff, for obvious reasons, Beth, because she currently had a B in the course and thought it was the end of her small-minded world, and Courtney, because she was, well, Courtney.

It’s when Heather’s eyes stay on Courtney’s head of hair that didn’t have a single strand out of place that it happens.

A scratch in the back of her throat digs into her, but Heather swallows it down instead of clearing her throat. If she did it too loudly over something so mediocre and unimportant, her classmates would just assume she was trying to stir something seeing as how it was the end of the last period of the day and, while Heather loved the occasional entertainment at the spite of her peers, she wasn’t in the mood that day.

And so, Heather waits and makes stray sketches in her notebook — repeatedly writing her name in cursive, drawing hideous illustrations of her peers, anything to pass the time until the bell rings. When the bell finally sounded off, punctuating the end of the day, students unceremoniously gathered their lump of notebooks and textbooks and scoop them in their arms, leaving the classroom in a cluttered, chatty, and hurried mess.

The first one out the door is Geoff, followed by Bridgette on his heels, Heather notes, but she can’t bring herself to follow and eavesdrop and what would possibly be one of the most interesting breakups Wawanakwa High had seen since Courtney and Duncan’s infamous split. She’d probably overhear the details of the split from somebody else, anyway.

The devil seemed to have spawned at the initial thought, as a prickly voice accompanied with a light tap on Heather’s shoulder made with the eraser end of a pencil is what tears Heather’s eyes away from the door. She has half the mind to berate whoever it was for pestering her at the end of the day, but falters when her eyes meet the other’s.

Courtney’s narrowed dark brown eyes are unamused. When Heather rises from her seat, Courtney tilts her head up to meet her gaze — Heather was taller than Courtney, even with the pair of wedges the brunette had on that day.

“I expect you were paying attention,” Courtney’s tone is sickeningly sweet and mocking, the specific one she uses around people she thinks are below her in terms of intelligence, or just in general. She has seen Courtney use it around the young kids she tutors, Duncan, jocks, Heather herself, and practically any student in their school who has managed to sour her mood, which was mostly everyone. “We are partnered for the lab, after all —”

“We are?” Heather questions dryly. She had expected Courtney to pick up on her sarcasm — Courtney had made it her job to scribble Lab with Courtney on every available space in her planner on the days leading up to the experiment, after all — but judging by the brunette’s eyes narrowing further, she either hadn’t noticed or didn’t care.

“Yes,” She hisses through clenched teeth, before frowning. “Whatever, I actually paid attention —”

“And I thank you for your service,” Heather remarks just as dryly as before, sauntering out the door.

��Wha — hey, where are you going?”

Heather snorted softly. “Come and find me,” she chastised sardonically. She had figured the answer to be obvious, but Courtney never failed to surprise her in one way or another.

Courtney scoffs and follows her, falling into place next to Heather. She fixed the headband on her head that matched her clothes as she rolled her eyes so far back Heather couldn’t help but wonder if they saw the back of her head.

“Haha, very funny,” The brunette doesn’t laugh, which makes Heather crack a smile in satisfaction. Winning with Courtney was always exhilarating and thrilling. “See you tomorrow, Heather,”

Heather hummed, waving a lazy and half-hearted hand over her shoulder, already bolting in the direction of the student parking lot. “See you,”

When Heather is finally in the solitude of her sleek, black car — her parents wasted no expense when it came to spoiling her, despite neither being the affectionate or loving type — the thing building up in the back of her throat is finally released into the palm of her hand, and all Heather can do is stare at it.

She’s coughed up bile and phlegm before, and she’s heard of blood being coughed up as well, but the tiny, dainty and crumpled thing laying in her hands was unheard of and felt unreal as it rested in her palms. She was suddenly aware of how dry her hands were as she felt the thinness of the soaked object, given that it had been resting in her throat.

Rifling it in her hands, Heather scoffs when she realizes just how ridiculous it was to believe she had just coughed up a flower in the school parking lot. However, she blinks harshly and firmly, and when she opens her eyes, the yellow petal is still there.

A foreign feeling of confusion and uneasiness settles over her like a blanket, but she instead scoffs once more and crumpled the petal, wrapping a tissue around it to keep it from dirtying her leather seats, and rolls out of the parking lot, avoiding any acknowledgment of the flower petal she’s convinced she imagined coughing up.

(On the ride home, she coughs up two more additional petals, too — one white and curved to perfection, looking much too angelic and innocent for having just been lodged up in her throat just moments prior, and the other the same shade of yellow as the first. Heather ignores both, and tosses them out the window to sink further in denial, similar to how she felt her stomach sink as she watched the petals flutter aimlessly to the ground, destined to be run over or stepped on.)

❀

That night, after finishing both her math homework and leftovers for dinner, Heather switched off the lights and settled into her bed before impulsively flicking open her laptop. It was for school purposes, her parents insisted, and was to never be used at night when she should be asleep, but quite frankly, Heather hadn’t cared much for her parents’ opinion of her considering their clear distaste for her.

Her fingers mindlessly fly across the keyboard, the same feeling of dread from when she was stunned upon the initial discovery of the petals resurfacing.

why am i coughing up weird shit

Healthline - Signs of Lung Illness

If any of the following symptoms apply to you, be sure to contact your health agent and schedule an appointment to discuss your symptoms and possible diagnosis. If you experience a burning, aching, or squeezing sensation in your chest, illnesses such as Lung Cancer, Pleuritis, etc. may be at play.

why am i coughing up petals and how do i stop it

Derrit - r/AskDerrit, in an old manga I read today, the Hanahaki disease was a plotline. Is it real? I can’t find any research indicating an answer.

BlaineleysBitch: no. the entire premise of the disease doesn’t even make sense. it’s not real.

Mr.CocoNutty: tbfh i haven’t heard anything about it? i’m sure if it were real there would be some coverage abt it considering how unbelievable it sounds

KittyKat16: yea, i don’t think it’s real, but it would be really cool if it was!!

what’s the hanahaki disease

Wikiresource - List of fictional diseases

Hanahaki Disease (花吐き病 (Japanese); 하나하키병 (Korean); 花吐病 (Chinese)) is a fictional disease where the victim of unrequited or one-sided love begins to vomit or cough up the petals and flowers of a flowering plant growing in their lungs, which will eventually grow large enough to render breathing impossible if left untreated. The flowers in particular symbolize the specific love and relationship the patient has for the enamored, as told through flower language. Hanahaki can be cured through the confession of the victim's feelings. The response of the enamored is unimportant. The victim may also develop Hanahaki Disease if they believe the love to be one-sided but once the enamored returns the feelings, they will be cured.

how to get rid of hanahaki disease without having to confess shit

Making sure to groan inaudibly — her parents were under the impression she was asleep, after all — Heather pressed her finger down on the backspace key with a familiar scowl on her face, her finger remaining in place atop the key long after the words had been removed. The feeling of resentment and annoyance was familiar, but the overwhelming confusion and petals she felt building up in her throat were not.

Sighing, Heather rubbed her eyes gently yet urgently. Mindlessly, she resorted back to her idle habit: observing.

Assuming she had the disease that was supposed to be fictional, somebody had swooped Heather off of her heeled feet without her even realizing it. That had to be impossible, as Heather wasn’t dense enough to not realize something as obvious as feelings for another. After all, she read people and their infatuation with others as easily as one read magazines — who was to say she couldn’t do the same for herself?

Recalling the wiki page, Heather sighed as she began to re-type. The article had said that the flowers she had coughed up symbolized her love for whoever her crush was in flower language, and seeing as how it was her only lead on whoever her supposed enamored was, Heather wanted to crack down who it was exactly and quickly exterminate any and all contact with them to execute any possible feelings.

how do you identify a flower

PlantCapture - What Flower Is This? How to Instantly Identify Flowers

If you already have a photo of a flower saved on your phone, you can also instantly identify it by uploading the photo to PlantCapture. Once you've instantly identified a flower, PlantCapture stores it in your library. You can easily go back to see how many flowers you've identified.

Heather whipped out her phone with another sigh as she begrudgingly began downloading the app. Watching the small icon load, she scowled even deeper. Even the smallest inconvenience in the entire situation was enough to dampen her mood even further, despite the fact her own alleged feelings brought this on herself.

Remembering she had tossed out her only petals, Heather just barely resisted another groan before a familiar scratchiness formed at the back of her throat. Being sure to cough quietly, Heather slipped the petal out of her mouth as she winced at the taste of copper rolling down her tongue. The article hadn’t mentioned anything about blood, Heather bitterly notes, before shaking her head at her own stupidity. Of course there wasn’t a full list of symptoms for a disease that was believed to be fictional.

Switching flash on, Heather got the results of her flowers instantaneously as promised: the yellow and white flowers she had been hacking up all day were daffodils and gardenias, respectively.

Heather’s fingers flew to her keyboard once more automatically. With bated breath, she hoped that the results would be specific enough that she could put an end to the investigation that night and stomp out whatever ties she had with her “enamored”.

But, as noted from Heather’s luck that day, things rarely went her way.

what do daffodils mean

FlowerDictionary - Flower Meanings: Flowers A-K

Daffodil symbolizes regard and chivalry. It is indicative of rebirth, new beginnings and eternal life. It also symbolizes unrequited love.

what do gardenias mean

Flower Dictionary - Flower Meanings: Flowers A-K

The gardenia is a flower that symbolizes purity and gentleness. However, this symbolism often depends on the color of the gardenia. ... Another symbol of the gardenia is secret love between two people and also joy.

Upon quickly searching them up, the results did little to ease the dread pooling in her. The test was definitely correct, as it seemed, but was entirely unhelpful when it came to figuring out the identity of whoever it was that Heather had unknowingly developed an unreturned love for.

Slamming her laptop closed — a bit too loud for her liking, but beats pass and she doesn’t hear the annoying patter of her mother’s footsteps reach her room, so she assumes she’s in the clear — Heather grunts one final time, unceremoniously moving her laptop back on her desk. Raising the petal to her line of vision, Heather has to squint to make out some of the details. This one was white, identifiable even in the dark. It was a bit crumpled from having been clutched so tightly, and still wet from her own coppery blood.

A gardenia, Heather recalls with another scowl that was deeper and more ferocious than the last were. Meant to symbolize a “secret love”... so much for a clue.

She wonders, her last coherent thought before succumbing to sleep, how big of a secret her love must be for it to have left Heather herself in the dark on who her loved one was.

At the thought, Heather wrapped her blankets tighter around herself, lulling herself to an uneasy sleep of blood, thorns, beautiful but deadly flowers, and a figure in the distance who looks so comforting and familiar whose name is on the tip of Heather’s tongue, but can’t be reached.

❀

ii. amaryllises & white chrysanthemums; pride & loyalty

Despite Heather’s praying to a God she didn’t believe in, the flowers didn’t disappear overnight. Instead, they bloomed rapidly in her lungs, and at times when she felt the familiar tickle in the back of her throat, flowers in full-bloom were coughed up.

They would be beautiful, if not for her own blood staining them, a grim reminder of what would become of her if she did not find a fix, and soon.

Still, Heather was nothing if not quick on her feet. She managed to keep her illness under the wraps — of course, her second in command was Lindsay, so it wasn’t difficult to conceal her bloody bundles of flowers as just “feeling under the weather”; any other person would be suspicious of the foreign scratchiness and hoarseness her voice now had, the way she would breathe shakily as if her lungs were rattling and about to give out, or the way she barely restrained the flowers from being coughed up after a gym class, but since it’s Lindsay, Heather can get away with her lie.

When Lindsay sweetly wishes for her to feel better, even dropping off a bowl of badly homemade chicken noodle soup, Heather couldn’t help but scoff as she shook her head at the feeling of guilt lingering in the back of her head, and the feeling of bloody flowers in the back of her throat.

❀

With every fistful of the flowers beginning to stain her clothes, Heather took responsibility for her own laundry, for the first time in her life. Her parents put on a spectacle of overexaggerated joy and relief when she announced it, saying that, oh, thank goodness their darling was beginning to take responsibility instead of pooching off of them; Heather had just forcefully smiled and nodded, as she always did now, and excused herself to hurriedly put in the first load.

Her clothes were stained red in her own blood. Some petals began to stick onto her clothes, as well, and the last thing Heather wanted was the intrusion of her parents and their nosiness as she deciphered just who she was coughing flowers for.

Interestingly, the flowers she was now coughing up were different. Amaryllises and chrysanthemums, as she had identified — the red flower was the former of the two and symbolized pride. The white chrysanthemums, wide with many intricate petals, symbolized loyalty and the truth. Thankfully, they were more of a clue than the daffodils and gardenias with their meanings of unrequited and secret love.

That still didn’t mean that Heather had any clue of who they were for, though — she just knew that they had to be high-maintenance, and part of her refused to believe she would unconsciously fall for someone who had to be so pretentious, but seeing as how the thought sent her into another bout of coughing sloppily disguised, it had to have been the truth.

Heather was beginning to hate the sensation that arose when she felt a coughing spur coming on. She hated how she could feel a crumpled lump form in the back of her throat, squirming its way up her throat and nearly out her mouth. It feels hot, sticky, and suffocating, and when the flowers come up, Heather hates them too, and especially whoever her beloved is. However, the disease doesn’t cease even just a little, and so Heather finds herself heaving, coughing, and puking chrysanthemums and amaryllises in the middle of the night as she ponders on who it is she’s supposed to be loving.

Still, she manages to keep herself from hacking during class in front of her peers, and that’s all that matters to her, even when the flowers she chokes on splinter into her like thorns in her side.

❀

It’s here that Heather messes up. Well, to be fair, she messed up as soon as she began feeling things for whoever it was that had captured her sight unknowingly, in Heather’s opinion, but that was irrefutable and couldn’t be helped.

This, however, could have been helped.

Like many things, it started at school. Like the first petal that had been coughed up weeks ago, it started during science class, when she felt the feeling of hot bile, blood, and petals rising in her throat as Courtney bent over their lab report. She didn’t notice Heather’s discomfort, as her eyes were fixed on the report, her brows scrunched together in concentration.

At least, that’s what Heather thought, until Courtney suddenly looked up from the report and eyed her curiously. “Are you feeling alright?”

Heather barely contained her surprise at the sudden inquiry. The only person to ask that was Lindsay, not even her own parents, let alone her (unofficial) rival and (official) lab partner.

Upon seeing her confusion — had she done that bad at a job of hiding it? — Courtney sighed and looked back to their work. “To be honest, you’re quieter than normal and you look kind of sick — you look like you’re going to pass out at any time now.”

“Thanks,” Heather mutters coarsely, finding her voice. Despite her calm exterior, she could feel her heart racing, and the flowers itching their way up her throat.

Courtney squawked indignantly. “Hey! I’m just being honest!”

“Mhmm,” Heather hums absentmindedly as she rises from her seat. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

She barely hears Courtney’s grumpy and hesitant “Fine,” before stalking out the room, grabbing a hall pass on her way out. As soon as the door swung shut behind her, out of sight from her peers, Heather dashed as quickly as she could to the solitude of the nearest bathroom. She slams the stall door closest to her open noisily, thankful there was nobody around, and heaves into the toilet as the blood and flowers bloom from her mouth.

They hurt more than the daffodils and gardenias, now that they’re coming out as full flowers accompanied with a few stray petals rather than just petals, but Heather shoves the thought to the side in favor of pulling her hair away from her face. The toilet bowl is filled with a hideous mixture of blood and petals, and Heather feels like a decaying corpse as the energy leaves her, crumbling to the ground as she heaved from the aftermath of the coughing fit.

Picking petals from her backmost molars, Heather spits once more, the remaining drops of blood falling into the sink. Her chin is wet and sticky with her own blood, and she’s sure her teeth are stained red as well; Heather half-heartedly debates asking her parents to pick her up as she flushes the toilet, whisking away most of the evidence excluding the blood dribbling down her chin from her mouth and a few stray petals, before deciding she’d rather vomit flowers rooted to her lungs for the rest of the day than be with her family.

As she rinsed water from the sink in her mouth, Heather nearly spits it out in surprise when she notices a bathroom stall crack open from the mirror. Then she actually spits the stained water from her mouth, whirling around to threaten whoever it was to secrecy. When her eyes meet a head of blue hair, she falters slightly, and that’s all it takes for the other to take control.

“You too?” Is all Gwen asks, having recovered from her initial surprise. She doesn’t look grossed out by the blood, and instead joins Heather by the sinks.

Narrowing her eyes, Heather recoils to what she knows best around Gwen: defense. “Excuse me?”

Gwen laughs, sardonically and self-deprecatingly, with a hint of amusement. It’s the most Heather’s seen her laugh to her since, well, ever. Then, still in astonishment, Heather felt herself stagger back and her eyes widened when pale pink roses, white carnations, and yellow coreopsis flowers fell from Gwen’s blue-lipsticked lips, gracefully fluttering to the tiled floor.

Suddenly, Heather understands, but Gwen still unnecessarily elaborates. “The flowers. You too?”

Heather only hesitates for a split second before sighing and staring down at the sink bowl. “Yeah,”

“Didn’t expect it from you of all people,” Gwen chuckled humorlessly. “Didn’t think the Queen Bee Heather knew what emotion was, let alone be stuck in unrequited love,” she mocked bitterly. She turns to Heather, gaze softening. “So, who is it?”

Heather blinked. “What do you mean?”

Gwen snorted and gestured to the petals and trail of blood on the tiled floor. “The flowers, honors student,”

Ignoring the sarcastic remark, Heather paused before admitting, “I don’t know,”

Gwen grunted disbelievingly. “Come on, I know you don’t like or trust me, but really, who am I going to tell?”

“Hey, I’m actually being honest here!” Heather snapped, glaring at the goth. Of course, I’m told I’m lying when I’m actually being honest… she thinks with a scoff as her scowl returns.

“Whatever, have you tried…” Gwen trails off, frowning as her brows scrunch together. “I don’t know, I just knew who mine was for—”

“Who?” Heather asks curiously, having not picked up on Gwen displaying any of the usual symptoms of a horrid teenage crush. No staring, attention-seeking, stuttering, or blushing — it was the same behavior for everyone with Gwen.

The goth hesitates only for a split moment before sighing and giving one name: “Geoff,”

Heather hums, unsure what to say. Gwen narrows her eyes, seeming to just remember who she was talking to.

“Seeing as how we’re one and the same right now, if I catch you telling anyone, I will spread the news of your diagnosis, okay?”

“Don’t worry, Weird Goth Girl, your secret is safe with me,” Heather promises, the corners of her lips twitching up at the use of the old nickname. “Just help me clean up all this before someone walks in,”

Gwen nods once, before bending over the sink and coughing a few more flowers and petals in the sink, blood spilling from her mouth. Awkwardly, Heather pats her back, unsure what to do, before realizing she should probably hold her hair back.

“Thanks,” Gwen murmurs, her voice even more hoarse and tired than normal. Heather just gives her a nod before crouching down to pick up the flowers trailing the ground; Gwen hurries to grab a mop from the back closet to clean the blood.

It’s when Heather comes across the petals of the pale pink roses, white carnations, and yellow coreopsis flowers that a pang of empathy spurs in her. She turns to Gwen.

“Those type of roses specifically mean joy, the white carnations mean purity and loveliness, and the yellow coreopsis means cheerfulness.”

Gwen looks up from her work and blinks, taken aback, before smiling slowly and softly. “That fits him,”

Wordlessly, the two set off to finish the cleanup of their shared death sentence in the form of flowers and blood, when the bathroom door flies open once more. Both Heather and Gwen look up, eyes wide in surprise. Before either can communicate, a thunderous voice and a ticked-off Eva enter the area.

“Get back to class, we have to clean up —” she gets cut off from her own demand, faltering at the sight of Heather and Gwen bent over the floor, cleaning blood, flowers, and bloody flowers. Her eyes flit back to the duo who are too frozen and flabbergasted to speak. “What happened?”

Heather opens her mouth to bullshit her way into an explanation as she always did when Eva’s eyes suddenly narrow dangerously, intercepting the unsaid lie. She spits out one last order before turning on her heel, leaving the bathroom.

“Meet me in the library after school. Come alone, and hurry up and get back to class so no one else walks in on you.”

After her departure, all Heather and Gwen could do was stare at one another, wide-eyed and depleted of the fluttery itchiness of their lungs and throats, for once, before resolving to hurriedly finish garnering the crumpled flowers and washing the blood down the sink.

Heather goes back to class for the remaining minutes of the day, her mind elsewhere even as Courtney berates her for the long bathroom break. Her mind drifts to Gwen’s sardonic laugh, the goth's utter defeat after finishing hacking, and the way her eyes are avoiding Geoff’s direction, instead fixated on a pink charm bracelet Heather had noticed her fiddling with on multiple occasions before.

The image of Gwen choking on her own blood and petals momentarily and the sound of her warbled snort had been seared in Heather’s memory, and all she could do was wonder. Wonder if, in due time, her own condition would mirror Gwen’s when she inevitably lost to the disease that was slowly but surely suffocating her.

❀

When Eva had instructed her and Gwen to meet with her alone, Heather had assumed that that applied to Eva as well.

What she had not expected, however, was for her and Gwen to be seated with Eva and two of the most arbitrary (personality-wise, that was) redheads Heather ever had the pleasure (?) of meeting.

She scowled. With herself, Gwen, Eva, Izzy, and Harold, they had practically formed their own little Losers Club. Brilliant.

Harold awkwardly coughed, having declared himself the unofficial leader.

Gwen scoffed, leaning back into her seat. She leaned her chair, balancing it on two legs at a dangerous angle. “What is this, Hanahaki Club?” Gwen mockingly questioned, mirroring Heather’s thoughts.

Harold guiltily smiles. “Well, no. See, Eva here —” Eva glared at the boy, scowling. Harold faltered for the fifth time that meeting, gulping — “had Hanahaki awhile ago. Last year, I think. She confessed to Izzy, and the rest is history.”

Izzy nodded enthusiastically. She grabbed Eva’s hand, making the latter blush furiously at the unprompted gesture. “Yup! Our getting together was actually like this one Romanian film —”

“Anyway,” Harold interrupted. “I noticed Eva’s symptoms and helped her, which we intend to do with you two. Now,” he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, casting a pensive look to Heather and Gwen, who exchanged glances. “Which one of you has Hanahaki?”

Before Heather can think to lie and save her own skin, Gwen answers truthfully. “Both of us,”

“Gwen!” Heather hissed. The mentioned shrugs.

“What, you think you’ll be able to resist coughing up flowers during this?” At Gwen’s words, Heather felt her face twist as she felt an itching in her throat. Satisfied, Gwen nods and turns to the others. “Thought so.”

“I’m going to be honest,” Eva begins. Her tone is softer than before, but just as commanding. “Hanahaki… it’s hell. But just ease your suffering by confessing. I didn’t want to risk my life when a few words could save it.”

At Eva’s words, Heather can’t help but feel a surge of jealousy at her words, her sureness. At how she and Gwen just knew who their flowers were for, and how Eva had the mind and courage to confess.

If she did know who the amaryllises and chrysanthemums that were rooted in her lungs were for, would Heather confess? She wasn’t sure, and she hated the uncertainty.

“Yeah, but, he just broke up with his girlfriend,” Gwen murmured, tracing a finger on the table as she spoke in a low voice. She seemed fascinated with the intricate design of the wood, now, refusing to meet the eyes of her peers that were softened with sympathy. “And… he just sees me as a friend. ‘One of the guys', you know?”

A beat passes before Harold frowns, a hand on his chin like some wannabe Sherlock, Heather notes, face expectedly contorted in pensiveness. “Is it Geoff?”

“Bingo,” Gwen says dryly.

Izzy turns to Heather, the hyperactivity from before dulled as she looks serious for what had to be one of the few times in her life. “And you?”

“What about me?” Heather sighs, though she knows that they know she knows what’s being insinuated.

“Who’re the flowers for?” Eva interjects.

The question dances around in Heather’s head and leaks out of the others’ imploring glances, but Heather finds herself faltering as she struggles to answer.

“You don’t know?” Eva echoes. Her face is not contorted in anger, like Heather assumed it would, but rather thoughtfulness. Neither is her voice thunderous or disbelieving — Eva seemed to seriously be contemplating the likelihood of it. She turns to Harold. “Is that even possible?”

The redhead looks just as lost in thought as Eva. He shrugs. “Maybe…” He shifts his attention back to Heather, who is beginning to feel as if she were being prodded at, dissected, and inspected by her peers. “Have you tried thinking about it?”

“Excuse me?” Heather asks, taken aback. Her scowl diminished momentarily in her surprise, before it fell back into place, more intense than before. “What do you think I’ve been doing? Analyzing the flowers and flower language like I’ve gone insane —”

“I mean,” Harold interrupts, “have you tried… I dunno, fantasizing about the people in your life? Like, placing yourself in your ideal date with them to see if the flowers spur in your throat? It worked in this one manga —”

Heather droned out the rest of his rant, frowning to herself. Why hadn’t she thought of that?

“Anyway,” Eva cut Harold off with a silencing glare. The boy in question audibly gulps, shifting in his seat and indiscreetly glancing away to the opposite direction. “What do your flowers mean?” She looked to Gwen and Heather.

“The first round were marigolds,” Gwen admits carefully. “They mean jealousy. The second had mistletoe and yellow tulips — they mean affection and longing, and the tulips meant good friendship, or something like that. Now, I have pale pink roses, which mean joy, white carnations, which mean purity and loveliness, and yellow coreopsis flowers, which mean cheerfulness.”

“My first flowers were daffodils and gardenias.” Heather found no reason to lie now. “They mean unrequited and secret love. Way to spell it out,” she chuckled dryly, and humorlessly, and pretending to not notice the varying amounts of sympathy from the group. Her throat stings. “The ones I have now — amaryllises and chrysanthemums — mean pride and loyalty.”

Eva raises her eyebrows. “High-maintenance? Wouldn’t have expected that from you,”

Heather grunted. “Shut up,” Her throat hurt too much for a better rebuttal.

“You know, it’s probably Courtney,” Izzy hums half-jokingly with a grin. Gwen barely stifles a laugh.

Feeling her face flush and a lump form in her throat, Heather opens her mouth to argue, but is silenced when Harold shoots her a look.

“So, to recap,” Harold draws their attention back in, “The flowers represent who you love and/or your dynamic with them. Heather, try finding some privacy and think of your ideal date with people you know who are prideful and loyal, okay? We’ll meet up here on Monday. Hopefully you’ll have figured it out by then.”

“Fine,” Heather agrees, clumsily gathering her things. Her throat is burning, along with her chest and she’s sure her eyes are stinging, and she desperately wants to cough, but not now, and certainly not here with this audience. “See you Monday, Hanahaki Club,” she mutters sarcastically.

Half-hearted laughs register in Heather’s ears, but she’s already out of the library and dashing to the second nearest bathroom, not wanting to be walked in on. Her focus had been shifted from her illness momentarily, but now that it had been remembered, it was all it took for her to cough up the familiar flowers to the bathroom floor, unleashing a familiar strangled and warbled choking noise, accompanied by foreign tears.

❀

At night, when Heather’s parents and siblings are fast asleep, Heather lies wide awake in bed, tossing and turning. Whoever her beloved was was causing her to be unable to sleep at night, and when she was awake, she would cough on petals and blood, and she just craved to sleep.

Part of her wondered if it was possible for her to choke on the flowers in her sleep, before concluding that it didn’t matter. She was going to die, anyway.

Her mind wanders back to the secret meeting in the library, and of Harold’s advice. She had never wanted to date any of her classmates, but seeing as how she had the disease, it was a waste of time groveling in defeat. Instead, she shuts her eyes, and thinks of her fantasy.

Intimacy is what comes to mind first. She doesn’t like intimacy with her family or friends, but maybe she’s a sucker for looking into someone’s eyes and holding hands and telling someone I love you and meaning it. It doesn’t make her a sap; it just means that her needs are impossible to fulfill.

Eyes still shut, the image of her perfect date materializes in Heather’s head. Limbs entangled around one another as she and her mysterious person cuddled on a couch while watching an arbitrary film. Sharing a cup of hot chocolate and blankets as the chilling air from outdoors was kept out from inside by the heater. Talking animatedly about their interests and such over the movie, gazing into one another’s eyes; no judgment was to be found in either. It was peaceful and isolated, and perfect to Heather. Her parents never showed affection, and couples in high school never lasted — that type of love wasn’t real, but Heather allowed herself to fantasize, still, for the sake of finding who her enamored was.

Thinking it was best to start with the girls Heather was acquainted with that fit the bill, Heather sighs before imagining the ambiguous person as her classmates.

Leshawna. She’s the most faithful person Heather knows of, and she’s certainly proud. The flowers remain still and unmoving in her lungs, and so, she decides to move on.

Gwen. Unsurprisingly, the flowers don’t itch. The goth was more of someone Heather could respect, anyway.

Eva. Still, no reaction. Part of her is grateful, as she didn’t want to face the wrath of Izzy ever.

Dakota. One of the least likely, but it was possible, Heather supposed. They had some things in common, after all.

Court—

Her dark brown eyes were the only thing that had materialized in her mind when the flowers came out roughly and swiftly. Her blood is hot and thick in her throat as she tries in a daze to not suffocate on it, but still, she chokes on it. She can feel tears springing in her eyes and the sweat piling on her back and under her armpits; she can feel her chest burning in indescribable pain that was unlike any of the other coughing fits. It’s worse than anything she’s ever endured which is, granted, not quite the resume, but nevertheless, Heather feels as if her body is tearing and ripping itself apart while simultaneously hastily stitching itself back together by the amount of pain unleashed from her floral disease.

She scrambles to the sink of the bathroom attached to her bedroom, retching into the basin. The blood and flowers look like an artful arrangement, though Heather barely registers its appearance through both the pain and the unwavering amount of hatred coursing through her at the thought of Courtney unknowingly inflicting this upon her. Somewhere, she’s sleeping peacefully, while Heather is choking on her own blood and the flowers rooted to her lungs from just the mere thought of Courtney’s eyes.

Finally, mercifully, after a few minutes, the coughing fit ceases, but all that’s left is Heather’s heavy heaves as she attempts to retain her breath. Her vision flickers as black dances across her vision, and all she can smell is an overwhelming smell of metal and cleaning supplies. Her sink looks like the delicately painted masterpiece of an artistic sacrificial seance scene with all the blood and flowers. With a sigh, Heather strips of her bloodstained clothes, tossing them in her hamper to wash in the morning. After changing into a new acceptable and clean pair that Heather is sure will be ruined in a few hours, she brings out the cleaning supplies from under her sink and begins to clean at a feverish pace in a dazed state.

Ah, Heather thinks bitterly with a crazed and forced smile on her face, scrubbing extra hard on the sink as the thought flits in her mind, I get it now.

❀

“It’s Courtney,” Heather admitted to the group with a scowl present on her face. None had to ask her to elaborate, and none mention her scowl or her cough at the name. Heather’s scowl deepens further when she notices Gwen and Harold sighing in unison, sliding money to Izzy and Eva, who gladly accept them, with defeated sighs. “Wha —! Did you guys seriously bet on this? I’m literally dying over here!”

The words silence the group before Gwen snorts, and with that, the rest join her and laugh. Heather has half the mind to tell them that they’re in a library, but realizes she sounds freakishly like Courtney. Plus, for once, Gwen is choking on her laughter rather than flowers, so Heather allows it just for once with her own small smile and laugh.

“You know,” Harold manages to choke out, eyebrows raised in either surprise or amusement, “I didn’t take Courtney as your type.”

“Me neither,” Heather mutters. “Who did you think my type was?”

He shrugs. “Alejandro was my main suspect. I thought Justin was Eva’s crush, at first, to be honest.”

The laughter dies down momentarily as the group stares at Harold in confusion. Gwen, cracking another smile, mutters, “Harold, they’re lesbians,” before collapsing in another fit of laughter.

This time, Heather joins in more easily, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world. The flowers momentarily disappear, along with Courtney and thoughts of her love.

❀

END OF PART ONE

#total drama #td heather #td courtney #td gwen #td eva #td izzy #td harold #heathney #gweoff #izva #evzy #my writing #heathney hanahaki au #hanahaki #part 1/3

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nadiecomoyo · 3 years

Text

Fortune Favors The Bold

Prologue

Before visiting Yuta, Gojo travels to America to see a group of skilled individuals. Once there he gives them the task to seek out cases where curses are out of the norm, in hopes to find more of Sukuna’s fingers. All four of them scramble across Japan with one goal in mind: find as many fingers as possible to feed to the new vessel before his execution takes place.

Song Inspirations: La Casita, The Plan, Leave The Door Open

WK: 3.5k

A/N: Hi! This is my first story. It’s more for my entertainment but if people like this then great. Basically Gojo meeting the gang and what not. Enjoy!

“Would your table like to start off with an appetizer while the last person in your party arrives?” the waitress asked, making her round yet again to the table for a third time that night. The pristine white table cloth maintaining the same cleanliness since their arrival. The only indication of the table being used are the four empty glasses littering the table. The exact table currently holding four people who remained silent as sharp glares descend on the vacant seat. The three men and one female all looked like they wanted to be somewhere else, the waitress noted that none of the guests have ordered food, only drinks.

Angel sighed, seeing the lack of initiative from the others, and decided to answer the patient waitress. “No thank you, we’ll order once he arrives. But can you get us four,” turning his head to see Nicole motioning to her glass, “I mean three glasses of Aviation and one glass of water.” The waitress jotted down the request and promptly left.

The lavish Gabriel Kreuther restaurant became alive at night: people chattering, plates and utensils clicking, instruments playing, yet their table did not have an ounce of sound. Unbeknown to the waitress and the people around them, the four were conversating in their minds.

[Some invite this is], Alejandro flicked his wrist to the seat next to him.

[The guy is almost an hour late. I don’t care who he is I’m ditching this place once I finish my drink], Thomas sent an annoyed look to the group. Alejandro hummed in agreement.

[Come on guys, it must be serious if he contacted us], Angel pleads to the other three at the table.

[It’s concerning how he found us. The barrier I generate around us clouds our remnants. The inevitable trails we leave behind should not be enough to trace us ba-]

[-Must be his Six Eyes!] Thomas’ eyes widened at his not-so-genius epiphany.

His internal excitement reached his body, their mental conversation did not help the incoming waitress with their drinks, who has not seen much of a reaction from the guests since they have arrived. She did not expect Thomas’ action and almost dropped the tray onto the floor. A quick apology towards the waitress and a mild smack on Thomas’ head from Nicole amended the almost tragedy.

[As I was saying], Nicole specifically looking at Thomas, [I’m just glad we’re here and not back home. I never want to be in the same room with him and my grandfather.]

[The bastard may finally have a heart attack], Alejandro snickering at the thought of the resigned clan leader kicking the bucket, [Either way being caught between a rock and a hard place sucks.]

Everyone was thinking the same thing since their special, late, guest invited them to the sought-after restaurant overviewing the New York skyline. They all did not like this encounter one bit. All four of them were uncomfortably realizing their present reality. Exorcising in the shadows for so long, while going against their respective clan’s wishes, they preferred no one knew about their prohibited activities. The confrontation by a certain sorcerer clearly irked them, especially Nicole.

[Those eyes of his annoy me beyond imagina-]

Nicole halted her sentence as all four of them sensed an overwhelming presence of cursed energy. Being seated in the middle of the room, it gave them access to seeing the entrance door. An overly tall white-haired man sporting black sunglasses entered the main dining room floor. He exchanged words with the host, who pointed to the reserved table under his name, and began to walk towards them.

“Look who finally arrived,” Angel’s sarcastic comment rang a bit too loud causing a few people at the other tables to glance at him.

Nicole quickly investigated the special guest’s mind.

[Oh, I am so late. But that chocolate pizza really hit the spot. I need to buy one for Yuta before I leave.]

Disappointed with the revelation, she retracted from his mind. Nicole begrudgingly sent him a smile as he sat down at the table acting as if he was not late by one hour.

“Sorry for the delay, traffic here is terrible amiright?” flashing a bright smile towards the four at the table, “My name is Sa-,”

“We know who you are. Can you get on with the point of this dinner? Your timing is immaculate, has anyone told you that?" Thomas interrupted Gojo, sending him the same bright smile back. Gojo seemed to expect that type of response and brushed his teasing comment.

“I knew I made the right choice with you all,” Gojo slouched on his chair and pointed at Nicole, “You made it a difficult task in trying to find all four of you, I’m impressed, but better luck next time.”

His jab at her technique hardly offended her. Unsurprising to her, it offended the three other males. Before the lot opened their mouths, she sent them a reassuring nod before speaking on her behalf.

“Now that I am familiar with your mind, I will sense your presence the second you come into the country again. I will make sure that you will never find us again,” [nor our clans] she thought, while staring into the black abyss of his sunglasses.

“Don’t stay away too far, I’ll miss you,” His shameless flirting earned him scoffs from Alejandro and Thomas.

[This guy, I swear] / [Gross], both men expressed their distaste.

“Are you going to tell us what this dinner is for? Certainly not to get to know us. You clearly have knowledge of us, it got you this far,” disgusted by his remark, Nicole wanted this dinner to end as soon as possible.

“Well to keep this as simple as possible, we recently found a suitable vessel for Sukuna’s fingers. The vessel’s control over the curse is immeasurable. I have never seen a vessel like Yuji Itadori, quite frightening. Fortunately, his execution is delayed by yours truly,” motioning to himself, “I see this as an opportunity to destroy all the fingers. It would be a waste to kill him, right? However, Jujutsu Tech only has a few of the fingers.”

Gojo leans towards the table assessing the table, looking at each person one by one. Not one ounce of interest shown on their faces. On the contrary, their minds were racing with the oh-so-simple explanation given by Gojo. The bomb of information he dropped on them almost short-circuited their minds.

[What the hell? What in the actual hell?]

[Suitable vessel?]

[Yuji who?]

The loud thoughts from the guys started to bother Nicole. Hushing them, they all turned to say sorry. The white-haired sorcerer smirked, “This is where you four come in. I need your help in locating as many fingers as possible.”

“That means he ate a finger and has the capability to consume more without any complications?” Angel questioned in disbelief.

“Mhm!” Gojo nodded in excitement, at least someone is curious. Gojo feels confident in his recruitment skills, all he needs in a breakthrough.

[Hold up, I need food to process this.]

Thomas stood up from his seat. His face held something in between of a constipated/happy look. He spotted their designated waitress, beckoning her to come to the table.

“Sit down,” Nicole pulled him back into his seat.

“Excuse me ma’am, can I get the pork chops drizzled in wine sauce with a side of potatoes and greens?” The surprised waitress wrote down Thomas’ order and waiting patiently for the others. Not having any other option, the people seated at the table quickly ordered their desired plates, wanting the waitress to leave them alone.

The three besides Thomas, who was enjoying Alejandro’s unfinished Aviation, began to think on why this pertained to them.

Alejandro was the first to talk, “that’s quite the task, I don’t know if we’re qualified to handle it,” letting a lie slip from his mouth. He wanted to test the waters with Gojo to see how much he truly knew about them. They never flaunt their techniques, something they learned at a young age, how can this guy know what they are capable of accomplishing?

Seeing through the lie, Gojo smirked. He knew these four individuals were capable enough to exorcise grade 1 curses, possibly special grades. Gojo heard rumors about an American group of jujutsu sorcerers who clear swarms of curses with ease. People who vanish as quick as they strike, never leaving a trace behind. With the help of his Six Eyes, the remnants of their cursed energy were enough to help him locate the group. The closer he got to them, the foggier his mind became. He relied heavily on his eyes to find the four sorcerers. Overall, that technique of hers is a tricky one. Gojo has an inkling that she has a trump card up her sleeve. The others? He has no clue what lies within them. His eyes are failing him yet again, the four people around the table do not radiate any levels of cursed energy. One would say he is having dinner with civilians. But if he squints his eyes hard enough, he can see a glimpse of their energies through the mental barrier in front of him.

“We both know you’re kidding,” Assertive in his statement, Gojo laid back, getting comfortable in his chair.

“Either way international affairs aren’t our thing,” Nicole chimed in.

Gojo shrugged at her comment, “Aiding your fellow jujutsu comrades? Saving the world? This may be overseas affairs however, you’re gonna feel the ripple sooner or later sweetheart. What are you going to do then?”

[Why should we help a country that did not even help ours to begin with?] Being in public, she could not do much but glare at him. Not like that did much to affect Gojo. He's used to being the bane of many people's existence.

“There should be other capable sorcerers, you didn’t have to come all the way over here?” the three nodded at Angel’s point. They all agreed with Nicole's response as well. Why help when the other side of the world turned a blind eye to them? Years of curses running freely through populated cities to small farm towns. The aid back then from Japan was non-existent.

“It would be easier for me to get help back in Japan, but I wanted to see if the rumors were true. And I am not disappointed.” The small praise from Gojo did boost the four’s ego. Getting some recognition from the strongest sorcerer felt nice for a second, until they remembered why he praised them. The bubble from his praise was popped, bringing them back to reality.

“If we chose to accept this task, we will get something out of this. No way in hell am I doing your work for free.” Alejandro crossing his arms continues, “I like saving the world as much as the next guy, but this will not be a one-sided transaction.”

“Alright then, what do you want?” intrigued by what his demands would be, Gojo shifting himself to look towards his right. Signaling to Alejandro that his attention is on him.

Alejandro glanced at Angel and Thomas, both who were already staring at him.

“Great question. We’ll let you know when we need a favor from the strongest sorcerer alive,” Alejandro stated, the three men wearing a smug smile.

“Idiots,” Nicole murmured.

“While we’re thinking on what you can do for us,’ Alejandro gesturing to the four, “stay away from our clans. Do not go near any member of our families.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow when he noticed how serious Alejandro became.

Thomas added on, “Our techniques were a bitch to train, but it had to be done. We trained during the nights growing up; it was the only time we were out of sight from our families. It got easier as we got older, more freedom to roam and do as we please. Hiding our exorcisms from them is not something we are proud of. But we know they would not approve of what we do. Not like they can do anything at this point.”

“But there’s something about disappointing our families that we can’t bear to see,” Angel received funny stares from the three besides Gojo.

“Ok mamas’ boy, save the sappiness for later,” sending Angel a playful wink, the group chuckled at Nicole’s side joke. Alejandro took the opportunity to ruffle his hair. Everyone getting some entertainment by messing around with Angel.

“No one knows what we do. Our clans have lost all hope in saving this country. Growing up we all saw our fair share of deaths caused by curses. Our people have let them roam around for so long. All four of us decided to do what our clans have given up on. So far, I believe we have made a difference and that is all that matters to us,” Nicole loudly sighed before continuing, “But just know I am fully against helping you for your cause. Years have passed here, and our situation only got better because of us. The only reason why I would help you is if they all agree. If not, count me out. Do not think just because your comfort zone is in danger that I will run to help. And I can proudly say that the other three all agree with what I am saying.” Nicole's animosity reached Gojo’s ears. The three men she mentioned did not say anything, but one look at their stern faces spoke louder than words.

“Fair enough, but what about the future? Why do we have to follow the same traditions or actions that they did? Alienating ourselves to protect our useless hierarchy instead of allying with our neighboring countries will greatly benefit us all. Let us show everyone that working together does make changes.” Gojo slid his glasses slightly. His sky-blue eyes peeking out from the black tinted glasses, startling the whole table. One can try to explain how it feels to be under the gaze of Gojo Satoru, but it can never measure up to the actual feeling. They knew he was serious about recruiting them for the task. No doubt about it.

[Man, this blows. He’s actually serious]

[Do we agree?]

[I heard in Japan the fruit is expensive. Should I sneak in a watermelon into the country?]

[His eyes are beautiful.]

“Well 'Mr. Motivational Speaker' you got your point across, now tell us about the task.” That last thought made the three men look at Nicole, she ignored them and focused on Gojo.

“One thing to know, there may be a chance that the fingers resonate. The other fingers may have reacted to the first finger being eaten by Yuji. The chance that it is already eaten up by a curse is highly likely. If you agree, I will give you four individual missions. Each location has had unusual curse activity, a finger can be the cause of the of activity. That is why I am sending each of you to investigate and retrieve the finger if it is there. I would go, but I need to deal with Yuji’s transition into Jujutsu Tech. He is still a kid. I want him to at least enjoy the remaining life he has. Remember his execution is postponed, he will be executed in the future. But before that happens, he needs to eat as many fingers as possible. He is our only way to eliminate those cursed fingers.” Gojo elucidated Yuji's importance in eliminating the indestructible cursed fingers.

“Say we agree, where would we go?” Angel asked the question the four were dying to know. None have ever ventured outside of their county. The thought of leaving America to Japan has them on edge for what is to come if they agree to the mission.

“Let me remember,” one finger tapping on his chin as Gojo tried to remember the important locations, “Nicole to Okinawa, Angel to Musutafu, Alejandro to Osaka, and Thomas to Shinganshina.”

Listening to their designated places did excite them. Spending their time exorcising curses throughout America, they have seen grotesque curses that makes anyone hurl to weak curses even a baby can kill. Given the chance to see other parts of the world, the group began to think hard about their decision. Each one hoping that their decision matches the others.

The silence after revealing the locations made Gojo rethink his method of persuasion, [Should have done this differently, maybe start a game consisting of each person saying what is great about Satoru Gojo!], he thought.

[How is that persuasive?], a feminine voice popped unexpectedly in Gojo’s mind. Ignoring the snark comment, he instead focuses on her presence. He feels her peering into his mind, it felt personal. Not intimately but comfortably, almost as if they were to be playing a game together. Not having much knowledge on her technique, curiosity got the best of him. And he intended to discover more about it.

[Is that so? Tell me how to persuade you], Gojo putting emphasize on the word ‘you’, wanting to continue this private conversation.

[Be truthful. What else is there to say but the truth? Everything else is a waste of a breath.], Nicole stared right into his blank glasses, seeing nothing but her reflection. Sighing from Gojo’s way of thinking, she observes her friends.

Seeing her friends in their own conversations, she returned her attention to Gojo. Rolling her eyes and said, [What is with the glasses? I know you can’t see through them.]

[Helps with my technique], feeling unsatisfied by his response she did not push any further. Seems like we aren’t the only ones cautious, she thought. Deep in thought, Nicole did not notice the group switching topics. Alejandro’s voice reeling her back into the conversation.

“Well why not? I want to see the curses over there. I’ll give them a run for their money,” Alejandro leaned back with his arms on the back of his head. head. Patiently waiting to see where this would go. His response gave Gojo hope as he looked for the other responses.

The three other sorcerers looked at each other. Each of them wondering whether they are making the right choice or not. But after seeing Alejandro’s determined face, they won’t allow him to go by himself. It is all four of them or nothing. No one gets left behind or stranded. They did not need Nicole’s technique to know what they were all thinking.

“We’re in,” all three of them agree to the task.

“Only because this will benefit us as well, don’t forget that Gojo,” she reiterated to the now overly happy sorcerer in front of her. Her negative tone did not match the small quirk on her face.

“Going to Japan huh? Who would have thought?” Angel’s left-hand brushing through his hair, “We have to be crazy from agreeing to this.”

“Extremely but what’s a jujutsu sorcerer without some craziness? Basically a requirement for the job.” Gojo reassured them. Briefly thinking of his students who attract themselves to danger, like moths to light.

“Hey where is ou-” Thomas got cut off by the tray of delicious food heading towards there table. The sight of their food was mouthwatering. The meats to the pastas, everything they asked for was cooked to perfection. The four silently thanking Gojo for inviting them to the restaurant.

As they all settled in with their food, something rubbed Angel the wrong way.

“That Yuji guy, is he ok with all of this?” The question caught Gojo off guard.

“Yeah,” Thomas losing interest in his food spoke, “no one especially someone his age should not experience this. What terribly luck he has,” staring at the skyline.

“Knowing you’re going to die in the future, he must have will power. No regular guy would continue to move forward like that,” Alejandro added in.

The group stopped eating once they saw how silent Gojo became. The topic wasn’t the most positive one, but necessary. The four are weary about Sukuna’s vessel, but if Gojo has faith in the boy then they will follow his judgement. Easier to stomach when the threat is nowhere near your home, praying that this trip will prevent things from coming over to America. Feeling bad for bring up the topic, they resumed eating. No one mentioning again the fate of Yuji Itadori.

[You ok?] Gojo looked up form his plate to see Nicole looking at him. The blankness of her face masked her slight nervousness on how concerned she sounded. She sent him an awkward smile and followed the other’s actions. She ate her food while feeling Gojo’s gaze on her.

[I’m ok], she paused after hearing his thought, to her surprise, relieved. A genuine smile broke onto her face. Not wanting him to see her smile, she concentrates on enjoying her dish.

Dinner almost went smoothly aside from the couple flirty comments towards Nicole. She did not mind them; not like she would tell him that. Her friends on the other hand showed their disgust to Gojo’s flirtation.

After thanking the waitress for her patient service, leaving her a hefty tip courtesy from Gojo, Angel had to be dragged out of the restaurant by Thomas and Alejandro, the poor guy forgets he's lightweight. It was best to enjoy the night as much as they could. The future is ever-changing and they would like to die with no regrets. As they were heading out, going their separate ways for the time being, Gojo had one more thing to tell them.

“You know I’m counting on all four of you,” his parting words held so much weight, but it was also a breath of fresh air. Nodding to him, knowing that they will not let Gojo down. Not when this is the new beginning, one where humans prevail over curses.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #sk8 #sk8 the infinity #mha #my hero academia #hq!!#hq #haikyuu!!#aot #attack on titan #writing #sukuna #ryomen sukuna

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sagasofazeria · 3 years

Text

Broken Chains

Song of the Seven Suns, Part 6

Summary: Dawn arrives, and the companions head to battle against remnants of the group called the Mortal Chains, led by a woman named Dymea. A reckoning is had.

Taglist (just ask to be added/removed!): @hellishhin @talesfromaurea @thelaughingstag

content warnings: heavy discussion of slavery, violence and murder, injury, blood and minor gore, death, discussion of death, discussion of trauma/childhood trauma, swearing and strong language

word count: ~3900

Awake before even the sun, the five companions had already set out to confront their enemy, eyes and blades sharp as they crept through the inky night.

The shadows were long and grasping, even as the storm flashed on above. The group moved swiftly and silently through the darkness, all holding their breath for fear it would be their last.

Fuego hated it. He despised the dark, the unseen. He’d never liked the shadows and fog of his home, and he didn’t like this either. He only kept his flames snuffed because the others had insisted it’d give them away. Even though he hated the dark, he knew how to use it to his advantage, and he didn’t want to sabotage his first quest with his new friends.

So, onward they went, pushing forward through the creeping brush and craggy hills, as the slick rocks and leaves flashed with the reflections of lightning above.

Hours passed as they continued forward. Faulkron was leading the group, his faintly glowing elven eyes piercing through the dark.

As the morning wore on, the sun’s light began to begin its crawl across the sky behind the blanket of clouds that still bore down on them. The black of night became the faint notion of blue that lie beyond the curtain, gray clouds filtering what light shone behind them into a dim gloom, rain still falling through the leaves of the trees as the sky shifted.

It was in the faint illumination of the first steps of morning that the five adventurers saw the first signs of their quarry.

Faulkron noticed them first, the ever-so-slight disturbances in the silent stillness of the woods. Moments later, Shakari’s keen senses picked up a faint stench hidden beneath the clean smell of rain. They shared a quick glance, and the group quickly altered course, following the well-hidden trail.

Fuego couldn’t help but smile to hiself. He could tell he wasn’t the only one who couldn’t be any more ready for the coming fight. He saw Shakari’s eyes glinting in same way his mother’s would. Though, Shakari’s eyes were admittedly far larger, and probably scarier. Well, scarier to people who didn’t know his mother.

Shakari looked like a hunter, a proud and vicious one, and Fuego couldn’t be happier to be hunting alongside them.

•••

As Shakari pushed through the brush, clambering over the rocks and small borders that blocked their path, she never lost the scent. They hadn’t told the rest of the group what scent they’d picked up, only that they had one.

On the surface, it was the smell of blood.

Dirt.

Steel.

But beneath that, beneath the layers of rain and storm that hid the scent, beyond even the limits of her smell, something else lurked. Something Shakari could see only by extending their mind to the flows of energy around them, the movement of spirits and magic that pervaded everything, if you looked close enough.

It was there that they could smell pain.

Fear.

Despair.

Cruelty.

A poison sat on the air, one not even the rain could wash away.

And that was what Shakari was hunting. She knew the source of that poison, and on her ancestors she knew she would cure it. Today she was certain the sun would rise on one more step toward redemption.

Tail lashing with purpose, Shakari led the group forward alongside Faulkron, and in time the stench grew and grew. Before long, they found themelves in a small valley thick with trees, a grove of trees hiding them from any nearby eyes. She could smell the poison now, stronger than ever.

“We are getting close,” she whispered, holding up a claw to halt the group.

Fuego’s face pushed out of the leaves above, mouth cocked in an almost sinister grin. “Good.”

“How close, exactly?” asked Faulkron, turning to Shakari and reaching back for his sword.

“Close enough that you might need that, if that’s what you’re asking,” Shakari said, peeking through the still-wet leaves and brush for signs of a camp.

Faulkron gave a nod, pulling the sword from its sheath and steadying his grip, eyes focusing as he began to search as well.

“I don’t see anything, too many trees,” he whispered. “Fuego, can you get up any higher?”

“Naturally.”

With that, Fuego ran off into the trees, light halfling feet carrying him into the foliage without a trace.

The four of them waited for a while, and Shakari could see Alejandro and Jetra beginning to get nervous. Jetra was tapping a haphazard rhythm on a nearby stone, and Alejandro was twisting his hand around the hilt of one of his blades, palms sweaty as he went.

“What is taking him so long?” Alejandro finally snapped, voice at a tense whisper. “He should be here by now. What if he’s been injured, or taken, or—“

“Aww! Alejandro, you were worried about me?” Fuego’s voice suddenly called from the shadows as he walked out of the bushes, knocking a bit of ash off of his hands and beaming.

In a second, Alejandro had his blade halfway drawn. When he saw Fuego, he let it go with a sigh. “Fuego, you need to stop startling me.”

“You’re ignoring the question.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Isn’t it?”

Alejandro sighed. “Yes, I was worried for you. Now tell us what you saw.”

Fuego nodded and shrugged. “I’ll accept it for now. Anyway, I saw the camp. Pretty well defended, actually. I had to take out one scout on the way, but they never saw it coming, so we’re all clear. I can get us there.”

Alejandro held up a hand as they all began to move. “Wait, wait. What even is our plan here? We’ve got a location, what do we do from there?”

“Don’t worry, I think I’ve got something,” Fuego said, looking around for a second before snapping a branch off of a nearby tree with a mumbled apology.

He gestured for them all to kneel around him, and began to draw in the mud. “All right, here’s the plan...”

•••

It was working so far. Jetra hadn’t expected this from Fuego, but a fortress made of wood was kind of a pyro’s playground.

Not to mention, she wasn’t sure she could have come up with a decent plan at the moment. As much as she tried to look like she was sensible and collected, she had to admit she was completely making stuff up in the moment half the time. And that wasn’t when she was crouching behind a rock, staring at the place where her father’s killer was actively kidnapping people and selling them into slavery.

She tightened her grip on her sword, and clutched the amulet around her neck. The symbol of the blue moon was cold in her hand, but it held a comfort she appreciated well. Just a symbol, she knew, but it gave her hope, and gods knew she needed a bit of hope right now.

I can’t fuck this up, she thought to herself, visions of her father’s body being lowered into the ground filling her mind. I can’t.

She looked into the camp again, peeking around the boulder. Even through the soft rain and dim light he could see the faint silhouettes of cages, and she was filled with rage.

Then I won’t.

And that’s when the smell of smoke filled the air.

Jetra watched the pile of brush, scouts’ corpses, and wet leaves they’d carefully gathered against the camp’s edge outer wall go up in bright amber flame, black smoke curling upwards to mingle with the clouds despite the rain. Jetra muttered a brief thanks to the gods that magical fire burned far better than the average flame before leaping over the boulder and charging forward, sword held aloft. Across from her Faulkron and Alejandro did the same.

The smoke and the pile of tinder behind her blew forward into the camp with a sudden gust as the Shakari’s roar sounded through the camp, the groggy slavers caught off guard by the sudden onslaught and confusion in the smoke and flame, the buildings beginning to glow with fire in seconds. Jetra tightened the scarf around her nose and mouth, gritting her teeth as the sudden gust blew her hair forward.

The first group of bandits never even saw them coming. Through the smoke and haze, Faulkron moved like a shade, hacking one of them down with ease.

The next slaver barely had time to draw a weapon before taking Alejandro’s blades through his throat and chest.

Jetra charged forward still, kicking the embers of their campfire forward and setting another slaver alight. She cursed in alarm, throwing off her burning cloak and drawing a sword.

Shouts and cries went up around the camp, as more slavers were woken from their sleep to try fight off the attackers and the fire.

Smoke still covered the camp, and there was coughing among the unprepared bandits as they began to draw their weapons.

The badnit Jetra had tried to burn lunged forward with her sword, slicing across her right arm.

Jetra hissed, feeling warmth trickling down her arm and beginning to soak her clothes.

“You’re not who I’m here for, asshole,” she growled, swinging her own sword forward into the slaver’s side, cutting through the leather and sinking the blade into flesh.

The woman only grunted and raised her sword in response, but was cut off by a hissing as a familiar red-hot scimitar pushed out through her chest and she collapsed into the mud with a gurgle.

Jetra nodded to Fuego in thanks, and kept running further forward, trudging uphill as fast as she could. Chaos surrounded her, and she could see the wooden fortifications and buildings catching fire rapidly. There were shouts all around as the slavers began to rally.

As she ran, she saw Alejandro facing a group of slavers with a snarl on his face, all of them standing in front of cages of terrified people. His rain-soaked blades flashed in the firelight, and he charged them, Faulkron right beside him.

Fuego was dancing through the smoke, laughing as he went, burning blade held aloft and cutting through yet another confused enemy.

Shakari’s mouth was glowing with power, and a whole group of slavers and buildings was blasted apart as she roared again.

And Jetra ran forward, her mind was on one thing, and one thing only.

Just before she crested the hill, where the center of the fortress was, a group of slavers leaped from the haze, blades slashing.

Jetra cried out as her leg was slashed open and a dagger was sunk into her shoulder before she brought her sword up to block the remaining swings.

Pain pulsing through her, and she screamed, her voice booming outward as the vibrations shook the ground, sending the slavers in front of her careening backwards, most of them unmoving.

She kept running.

•••

Faulkron’s blade clanged against the slaver’s, but he pushed forward with all his might, sending them stumbling back. As they stumbled, he swung in an arc and separating their helmed head from their shoulders.

He saw Jetra run forward and disappear into the smoke, but had no time to react before he felt a knife across his back, turning to the next bandit.

He swung once, but the rain was still coming down, and even his eyes found it hard to see. His blade crashed off of theirs, and he felt another slash across his side.

Most of the camp was on fire, and it seemed every slaver had rushed out of their tents to fight them.

That much more of a challenge, he thought, and grinned.

The bandit in front of him faltered a moment, coughing in the smoke, and Faulkron took the chance to thrust his sword forward into their gut, throwing them to the side with a heave.

That was when he heard Alejandro scream. Faulkron whipped his head around, and as the smoke briefly parted he saw him.

Torso shiny with crimson blood from numerous slashes and cuts, at least 4 slavers lay dead around him, but a larger warrior had shoved their spear through his shoulder, and he’d dropped one of his blades into the mud.

Faulkron didn’t know what overtook him, but he charged across the burning battlefield, rain pelting his armor, shoulder lowered. He rammed his shoulder square into the slaver’s chest, sending them both tumbling to the ground. He quickly got to his feet in the mud, but was cracked across the face by the spiked butt of the spear, and he felt hot blood dripping down his cheek and chin.

He quickly wiped it away, swinging heavily with his blade, trying to protect Alejandro. The blow glanced off of the slaver’s armor, and they stabbed the spear towards Faulkron.

He managed to block the blow with his blade, and cut once across the slaver’s gut, tearing through the leather armor. Just as the bandit could attack again, however, Alejandro quickly came up from behind, one arm bloody as he sank his blades between the slaver’s ribs, and the large man gurgled in pain, blood trickling down his chin.

Faulkron took his chance, shoving his own blade through the man’s chest as Alejandro stepped away.

As the man fell over, so did Alejandro, collapsing to one knee. Faulkron kneeled next to him, clasping his good arm in hand.

“Come on Alejandro, get back up, fight’s not done yet.”

Alejandro grimaced and took a deep breath, and clasped his arm as well.

“Of course. Somebody needs to protect you,” he grunted, a grim smile on his face.

Faulkron stood again, lifting Alejandro up.

The fires were dying down as the rain kept falling, but the haze was still heavy in the air, although most of the bandits had been slain.

Fuego ran up to them, sporting a large slash of his own across his chest and breathing heavy.

“Hurry, we have to find Dymea, she can’t be let escape,” Alejandro said with a cough.

“This way!” Shakari called from father up the hill, through the smoldering buildings.

As they ran uphill, they heard another scream, Jetra this time.

But it wasn’t one of pain.

•••

“DYMEA! Where are you, you cowardly piece of shit? Come fucking fight me!” Jetra screamed, channeling all her rage and pain into her words, cursing the name she spoke, hoping Dymea was near enough that the magic would take hold.

The smoke was billowing all around, and her knuckles were white as she gripped her sword, waiting for the knife from the shadows.

All she heard in response was a sick laugh, a laugh full of poison and malice.

“And who are you supposed to be, exactly?”

She turned to see an armored and hooded figure emerge from the clearing smoke, grinning with a cold and calculated hate, the dim firelight and predawn sky leaving most of her face shrouded in shadow.

“I’m the daughter of Marakos, and you fucking killed him. Stabbed him in the back. He never had a chance... I’ve come to return the favor, or die trying,” Jetra growled, turning to face her.

Dymea laughed again. “Of course you are. I see you’ve also decided to burn down my slave operation, which will be a problem for me after I defeat you. It’s very annoying, but makes you that much more interesting. I wonder, did the vengeful daughter also join father’s secret society for the idiotically righteous?” Dymea said, looking over Jetra with a smirk. “Oh, but of course she did...” she trailed off, smiling and casually twirling a dagger as she slowly stalked around her.

Jetra furrowed her brow. She hadn’t expected a conversation, and her mind was already clouded with anger. She felt herself faltering, mind paralyzed as she found herself off guard. She shook her head and took in a breath, clearing her head. “Enough! What are you even getting at? Fight me already!”

“Oh, I would, but it’s much more gratifying to do this first. So I can tap into your fears, know what goes on in your mind. After all, I’m going to need to know how to control you. What’s more... you don’t want to tell a boring story, do you, bard?”

Jetra froze mid-retort. How did she know? Had she overestimated herself? I won’t, I won’t, I won’t fail, I won’t fail, her own words echoed through her mind, but now they sounded more like doubts than promises. “What are you talking about? How do you know-”

“Please, I already knew you, long before you showed up here. I remember killing your father. It was a big achievement for me, really. Another reckless idiot with a sword and a bunch of lies to fuel his morals dies by my hand. You’re just the same, clear as day. But you? I’m not going to give you ‘die trying’. No... you’ll be my final trophy from killing your father.”

Jetra’s eye’s widened and she growled. “That’s not gonna happen. No game you try to play will save you. You will die today,” she snarled, weaving years of hatred into her words as she spit magic at the woman before her.

She watched as Dymea hissed and grabbed her head, a slight trickle of blood coming from her ears.

Jetra grinned. “Don’t like that?”

“Oh, so she’s tricky,” Dymea muttered, wiping blood from her face. “Don’t worry, I have some tricks of my own.”

She flicked her wrist forward, and a long dagger sailed toward Jetra with almost inhuman speed. She raised her blade on instinct, knocking it away, only to have a second dagger sink into her thigh. She cried out in pain, and when she looked back up, Dymea was gone.

She called out to the shadows and smoke through gritted teeth. “Fucking cowardly—”

She was cut off when another dagger flew from the smoke, sprouting from her gut with a sickening thud as she cursed.

She tried to set her feet again, looking for any sign of the woman, but she couldn’t see her. Her wounds were burning with pain, and she stumbled again, grimacing.

She took a shaky breath and grabbed her necklace, closing her eyes and looking up to the rainy sky, tears and rain mingling on her face.

“I... I refuse to fail,” she whispered, letting the hope she found in the symbol grow and blossom in her chest.

As her magic faded, she felt her confidence and strength returned.

She opened her eyes saw her companions sprinting up the hill toward her just as Dymea lunged again from the smoke, knives extended towards her.

Before she reached her, however, there was a flash of blue, and Shakari leaped in front of Jetra, one extended hand sending lightning coursing forward into Dymea.

Dymea stumbled to a stop, gritting her teeth as the electricity coursed across her body from Shakari’s outstretched claws before drawing back to them, jumping across their scales as they bared their teeth.

Then, stepping out of a door of embers and smoke, Fuego appeared behind her in a blast of magic. He leaped onto her back, sword piercing her shoulder as she growled and stumbled forward.

“Funny how the tables turn, huh?” Jetra laughed, standing upright again.

Dymea snarled, grabbing Fuego by the neck and throwing him forward into the mud with a wet thud, his sword flinging off into the smoke.

Fuego coughed and tried to roll away, wind knocked from his lungs, but Dymea grabbed his hair and yanked him upward. She smiled at Jetra, dagger flashing in the fading firelight before she stabbed him in the back with a growl, and he coughed blood.

“You’re right. It is funny,” Dymea snarled, before kicking the dagger, sending Fuego sprawling into the mud as he screamed.

Jetra felt her heart sink, and her breath caught. She gripped the sword tighter as they converged on Dymea. Jetra was not going to let her kill Fuego, or any of the others, not when they were so close.

Dymea drew a shortsword and started to step back, but she was quickly interrupted by Faulkron, who knocked the blade aside before bringing the end of his sword across her face with a yell, drawing a line of blood across her cheek even as she leaped away.

Alejandro, adrenaline fueling him through the pain in his arm, pushed forward and stabbed her once through the shoulder as she tried to dodge away, then slammed his knee into her back as she stumbled forward, cursing. She tried to recover, only to be slammed backwards by a boom of thunder, as Shakari split the air with a bolt of lightning.

“And you call me a coward. How many people did you con into helping you kill me, exactly?” Dymea chuckled, spitting out blood.

She stood again, brandishing her last two knives. She looked around at them all, but they had her surrounded. She looked at them all in the eyes, then laughed. “Don’t you know? I don’t fear death. None of us do. Our chains—“

She was interrupted again as Faulkron lunged forward in a sudden explosion of movement. She lashed out, sinking one blade into his arm before Faulkron stabbed his own blade into the earth in front of her, one hand holding it steady.

She looked at him in confusion for a moment, and he only stared back. Then, he grabbed her by the back of the head with one hand and slammed her face into the metal hilt of his blade. Faulkron grabbed Dymea around the throat while she was stunned, crushing inward as she struggled to breathe, unable to escape his grip no matter how much she struggled and tried to move away. Alejandro ran up next to him, grabbing her arms to further restrain her, even as he growled in pain from his wound.

Fuego was still lying in the mud, struggling to push himself up and coughing blood.

“Keep her there!” Jetra yelled, before running over to him, hefting him up from the ground and placing one hand on his chest.

“Get up, damn it. Your story isn’t over yet,” she grunted, letting the healing magic flow into him and close his wounds. She watched as the dagger was forcibly pushed out of his back in a flash of light.

“Thanks... let’s kill this lady?” he panted as he stood and steadied himself on her hip.

Jetra turned back to Dymea with a glare. “With pleasure.”

Jetra strode up to the still-struggling slaver, grip tight on her sword.

“You wanna know why they’re here? They’re all here because you’re a sick fuck who sells people into slavery, and you’ve got a trip to the Nine Hells we don’t want you to miss,” Jetra growled, filling her words with malice again and grinning as Dymea hissed and struggled, more blood leaking from her ears.

She tried to respond, but Shakari clenched her fist, and the lightning coursing around her flashed, spearing into Dymea and causing her to convulse again and fall to her knees, still held by Alejandro and Faulkron.

Fuego held up a roiling flame in one hand, but Jetra put out her arm.

“Don’t. I want to do this.”

She stepped forward and put her sword beneath Dymea’s chin, staring her dead in the eyes. “This is for my father, and all of the people you’ve made suffer.”

Dymea’s final act was to choke out a smile.

“Good. It means I won.”

At that, Jetra shoved the blade upward.

Part 5 | Part 7

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96harmony96 · 3 years

Text

Chapter one.

“We should head to a bar and celebrate.”

I wasn’t surprised by my roommate’s emphatic pronouncement. Cary Taylor found excuses to celebrate, no matter how small and inconsequential. I’d always considered it part of his charm. “I’m sure drinking the night before starting a new job is a bad idea.”

“Come on, camila.” Cary sat on our new living room floor amid a half-dozen moving boxes and flashed his winning smile. We’d been unpacking for days, yet he still looked amazing. Leanly built, dark-haired, and green-eyed, Cary was a man who rarely looked anything less than absolutely gorgeous on any day of his life. I might have resented that if he hadn’t been the dearest person on earth to me.

“I’m not talking about a bender,” he insisted. “Just a glass of wine or two. We can hit a happy hour and be in by eight.”

“I don’t know if I’ll make it back in time.” I gestured at my yoga pants and fitted workout tank. “After I time the walk to work, I’m going to hit the gym.”

“Walk fast, work out faster.” Cary’s perfectly executed arched brow made me laugh. I fully expected his million-dollar face to appear on billboards and fashion magazines all over the world one day. No matter his expression, he was a knockout.

“How about tomorrow after work?” I offered as a substitute. “If I make it through the day, that’ll be worth celebrating.”

“Deal. I’m breaking in the new kitchen for dinner.”

“Uh…” Cooking was one of Cary’s joys, but it wasn’t one of his talents. “Great.”

Blowing a wayward strand of hair off his face, he grinned at me. “We’ve got a kitchen most restaurants would kill for. There’s no way to screw up a meal in there.”

Dubious, I headed out with a wave, choosing to avoid a conversation about cooking. Taking the elevator down to the first floor, I smiled at the doorman when he let me out to the street with a flourish.

The moment I stepped outside, the smells and sounds of Manhattan embraced me and invited me to explore. I was not merely across the country from my former home in San Diego, but seemingly worlds away. Two major metropolises—one endlessly temperate and sensually lazy, the other teeming with life and frenetic energy. In my dreams, I’d imagining living in a walkup in Brooklyn, but being a dutiful daughter, I found myself on the Upper West Side instead. If not for Cary living with me, I would’ve been miserably lonely in the sprawling apartment that cost more per month than most people made in a year.

The doorman tipped his hat to me. “Good evening, Miss Cabello. Will you need a cab this evening?”

“No thanks, Paul.” I rocked onto the rounded heels of my fitness shoes. “I’ll be walking.”

He smiled. “It’s cooled down from this afternoon. Should be nice.”

“I’ve been told I should enjoy the June weather before it gets wicked hot.”

“Very good advice, Miss Cabello.”

Stepping out from under the modern glass entrance overhang that somehow meshed with the age of the building and its neighbors, I enjoyed the relative quiet of my tree-lined street before I reached the bustle and flow of traffic on Broadway. One day soon, I hoped to blend right in, but for now I still felt like a fraudulent New Yorker. I had the address and the job, but I was still wary of the subway and had trouble hailing cabs. I tried not to walk around wide-eyed and distracted, but it was hard. There was just so much to see and experience.

The sensory input was astonishing—the smell of vehicle exhaust mixed with food from vendor carts, the shouts of hawkers blended with music from street entertainers, the awe-inspiring range of

faces and styles and accents, the gorgeous architectural wonders…And the cars. Jesus Christ. The frenetic flow of tightly packed cars was unlike anything I’d ever seen anywhere.

There was always an ambulance, patrol car, or fire engine trying to part the flood of yellow taxis with the electronic wail of ear-splitting sirens. I was in awe of the lumbering garbage trucks that navigated tiny one-way streets and the package delivery drivers who braved the bumper-to-bumper traffic while facing rigid deadlines.

Real New Yorkers cruised right through it all, their love for the city as comfortable and familiar as a favorite pair of shoes. They didn’t view the steam billowing from potholes and vents in the sidewalks with romantic delight and they didn’t blink an eye when the ground vibrated beneath their feet as the subway roared by below, while I grinned like an idiot and flexed my toes. New York was a brand new love affair for me. I was starry-eyed and it showed.

So I had to really work at playing it cool as I made my way over to the building where I would be working. As far as my job went, at least, I’d gotten my way. I wanted to make a living based on my own merits and that meant an entry-level position. Starting the next morning, I would be the assistant to Mark Garrity at Waters Field & Leaman, one of the preeminent advertising agencies in the US. My stepfather, mega-financier Richard Stanton, had been annoyed when I took the job, pointing out that if I’d been less prideful I could’ve worked for a friend of his instead and reaped the benefits of that connection.

“You’re as stubborn as your father,” he’d said. “It’ll take him forever to pay off your student loans on a cop’s salary.”

That had been a major fight, with my dad unwilling to back down. “Hell if another man’s gonna pay for my daughter’s education,” Alejandro Cabello had said when Stanton made the offer. I respected that. I suspected Stanton did, too, although he would never admit it. I understood both men’s sides, because I’d fought to pay off the loans myself…and lost. It was a point of pride for my father.

My mother had refused to marry him, but he’d never wavered from his determination to be my dad in every way possible.

Knowing it was pointless to get riled up over old frustrations, I focused on getting to work as quickly as possible. I’d deliberately chosen to clock the short trip during a busy time on a Monday, so I was pleased when I reached the Crossfire Building, which housed Waters Field & Leaman, in less than thirty minutes.

I tipped my head back and followed the line of the building all the way up to the slender ribbon of sky. The Crossfire was seriously impressive, a sleek spire of gleaming sapphire that pierced the clouds. I knew from my previous interviews that the interior on the other side of the ornate copper-framed revolving doors was just as awe-inspiring, with golden-veined marble floors and walls, and brushed aluminum security desk and turnstiles.

I pulled my new ID card out of the inner pocket of my pants and held it up for the two guards in black business suits at the desk. They stopped me anyway, no doubt because I was majorly underdressed, but then they cleared me through. After I completed an elevator ride up to the twentieth floor, I’d have a general time frame for the whole route from door to door. Score.

I was walking toward the bank of elevators when a svelte, beautifully groomed brunette caught her purse on a turnstile and upended it, spilling a deluge of change. Coins rained onto the marble and rolled merrily away, and I watched people dodge the chaos and keep going as if they didn’t see it. I winced in sympathy and crouched to help the woman collect her money, as did one of the guards.

“Thank you,” she said, shooting me a quick harried smile.

I smiled back. “No problem. I’ve been there.”

I’d just squatted to reach a nickel lying near the entrance when I ran into a pair of luxurious black oxfords draped in tailored black slacks. I waited for a beat for the person to move out of my way and when they didn’t, I arched my neck back to allow my line of sight to rise. The custom three-piece suit hit more than a few of my hot buttons, but it was the tall, powerfully lean body inside it that made it sensational. Still, as hot as all that magnificent maleness was, it wasn’t until I reached the person's face that I went down for the count.

Wow. Just…wow. She sank into an elegant crouch directly in front of me. Hit with all that exquisite femininity at eye-level, I could only stare. Stunned.

Then something shifted in the air between us.

As she stared back, she altered…as if a shield slid away from her eyes, revealing a scorching force of will that sucked the air from my lungs. The intense magnetism she exuded grew in strength, becoming a near tangible impression of vibrant and unrelenting power.

Reacting purely on instinct, I shifted backward. And sprawled flat on my ass.

My elbows throbbed from the violent contact with the marble floor, but I scarcely registered the pain. I was too preoccupied with staring, riveted by the woman in front of me. Inky black hair shoulder length framed a breathtaking face. Her bone structure would make a sculptor weep with joy, while a firmly etched mouth, a blade of a nose, and intensely Emerald green eyes made her savagely gorgeous. Those eyes narrowed slightly, her features otherwise schooled into impassivity.

Her dress shirt and suit were both black, but her tie perfectly matched those brilliant irises. Her eyes were shrewd and assessing, and they bored into me. My heartbeat quickened; my lips parted to accommodate faster breaths. she smelled sinfully good. Not cologne. Body wash, maybe. Or shampoo. Whatever it was, it was mouthwatering, as was she.

she held out a hand to me, exposing onyx cufflinks and a very expensive-looking watch.

With a shaky inhalation, I placed my hand in hers. My pulse leaped when her grip tightened. Her touch was electric, sending a shock up my arm that raised the hairs on my nape. she didn’t move for a moment, a frown line marrying the space between arrogantly slashed brows.

“Are you all right?”

Her voice was cultured and smooth, with a rasp that made my stomach flutter. It brought sex to mind. Extraordinary sex. I thought for a moment that she might be able to make me orgasm just by talking long enough.

My lips were dry, so I licked them before answering. “I’m fine.”

she stood with economical grace, pulling me up with her. We maintained eye contact because I was unable to look away. she was younger than I’d assumed at first. Younger than thirty would be my guess, but her eyes were much worldlier. Hard and sharply intelligent.

I felt drawn to her, as if a rope bound my waist and she was slowly, inexorably pulling it.

Blinking out of my semi-daze, I released her. she wasn’t just beautiful; she was…enthralling. she was the kind of woman that made a person want to rip her shirt open and watch the buttons scatter along with her inhibitions. I looked at her in her civilized, urbane, outrageously expensive suit and thought of raw, primal, sheet-clawing fucking.

she bent down and retrieved the ID card I hadn’t realized I’d dropped, freeing me from that provocative gaze. My brain stuttered back into gear.

I was irritated with myself for feeling so awkward while she was so completely self-possessed. And why? Because I was dazzled, damn it.

she glanced up at me and the pose—she's nearly kneeling before me—skewed my equilibrium again. she held my gaze as she rose. “Are you sure you’re alright? You should sit down for a minute.”

My face heated. How lovely to appear awkward and clumsy in front of the most self-assured and graceful woman I’d ever met. “I just lost my balance. I’m okay.”

Looking away, I caught sight of the woman who’d dumped the contents of her purse. She thanked the guard who’d helped her; then turned to approach me, apologizing profusely. I faced her and held out the handful of coins I’d collected, but her gaze snagged on the god in the suit and she promptly forgot me altogether. After a beat, I just reached over and dumped the change into the woman’s bag. Then I risked a glance at the woman again, finding her watching me even as the brunette gushed thank-yous. To her. Not to me, of course, the one who’d actually helped.

I talked over her. “May I have my badge, please?”

she offered it back to me. Although I made an effort to retrieve it without touching her, her fingers brushed mine, sending that charge of awareness into me all over again.

“Thank you,” I muttered before skirting her and pushing out to the street through the revolving door. I paused on the sidewalk, gulping in a breath of New York air redolent with a million different things, some good and some toxic.

There was a sleek black Bentley SUV in front of the building and I saw my reflection in the spotless limo tinted windows. I was flushed and my brown eyes were overly bright. I’d seen that look on my face before—in the bathroom mirror just before I went to bed with a man. It was my I’m-ready-to-fuck look and it had absolutely no business being on my face now.

Christ. Get a grip.

Five minutes with Miss. Dark and Dangerous, and I was filled with an edgy, restless energy. I could still feel the pull of her, the inexplicable urge to go back inside where she was. I could make the argument that I hadn’t finished what I’d come to the Crossfire to do, but I knew I’d kick myself for it later. How many times was I going to make an ass of myself in one day?

“Enough,” I scolded myself under my breath. “Moving on.”

Horns blared as one cab darted in front of another with only inches to spare and then slammed on the brakes as daring pedestrians stepped into the intersection seconds before the light changed. Shouting ensued, a barrage of expletives and hand gestures that didn’t carry real anger behind them. In seconds all the parties would forget the exchange, which was just one beat in the natural tempo of the city.

As I melded into the flow of foot traffic and set off toward the gym, a smile teased my mouth. Ah, New York, I thought, feeling settled again. You rock.

I’d planned on warming up on a treadmill, then capping off the hour with a few of the machines, but when I saw that a beginners’ kickboxing class was about to start, I followed the mass of waiting students into that instead. By the time it was over, I felt more like myself. My muscles quivered with the perfect amount of fatigue and I knew I’d sleep hard when I crashed later.

“You did really well.”

I wiped the sweat off my face with a towel and looked at the young man who spoke to me. Lanky and sleekly muscular, he had keen brown eyes and flawless café au lait skin. His lashes were enviably thick and long, while his head was shaved bald.

“Thank you.” My mouth twisted ruefully. “Pretty obvious it was my first time, huh?”

He grinned and held out his hand. “Parker Smith.”

“Camila Cabello.”

“You have a natural grace, camila. With a little training you could be a literal knockout. In a city like New York, knowing self-defense is imperative.” He gestured over to a corkboard hung on the wall. It was covered in thumbtacked business cards and fliers. Tearing off a flag from the bottom of a fluorescent sheet of paper, he held it out to me. “Ever heard of Krav Maga?”

“In a Jennifer Lopez movie.”

“I teach it, and I’d love to teach you. That’s my website and the number to the studio.”

I admired his approach. It was direct, like his gaze, and his smile was genuine. I’d wondered if he was angling toward a pickup, but he was cool enough about it that I couldn’t be sure.

Parker crossed his arms, which showed off cut biceps. He wore a black sleeveless shirt and long shorts. His Converse sneakers looked comfortably beat up and tribal tattoos peeked up from his collar. “My website has the hours. You should come by and watch, see if it’s for you.”

“I’ll definitely think about it.”

“Do that.” He extended his hand again, and his grip was solid and confident. “I hope to see you.”

The apartment smelled fabulous when I got back home and Adele was crooning soulfully through the surround sound speakers about chasing pavements. I looked across the open floor plan into the kitchen and saw Cary swaying to the music while stirring something on the range. There was an open bottle of wine on the counter and two goblets, one of which was half-filled with red wine.

“Hey,” I called out as I got closer. “Whatcha cooking? And do I have time for a shower first?”

He poured wine into the other goblet and slid it across the breakfast bar to me, his movements practiced and elegant. No one would know from looking at him that he’d spent his childhood bouncing between his drug-addicted mother and foster homes, followed by adolescence in juvenile detention facilities and state-run rehabs. “Pasta with meat sauce. And hold the shower, dinner’s ready. Have fun?”

“Once I got to the gym, yeah.” I pulled out one of the teakwood barstools and sat. I told him about the kickboxing class and Parker Smith. “Wanna go with me?”

“Krav Maga?” Cary shook his head. “That’s hardcore. I’d get all bruised up and that would cost me jobs. But I’ll go with you to check it out, just in case this guy’s a wack.”

I watched him dump the pasta into a waiting colander. “A wack, huh?”

My dad had taught me to read guys pretty well, which was how I’d known the god in the suit was trouble. Regular people offered token smiles when they helped someone, just to make a momentary connection that smoothed the way.

Then again, I hadn’t smiled at him either.

“Baby girl,” Cary said, pulling bowls out of the cupboard, “you’re a sexy, stunning woman. I question any man who doesn’t have the balls to ask you outright for a date.”

I wrinkled my nose at him.

He set a bowl in front of me. It contained tiny tubes of salad noodles covered in a skimpy tomato sauce with lumps of ground beef and peas. “You’ve got something on your mind. What is it?”

Hmm…I caught the handle of the spoon sticking out of the bowl and decided not to comment on the food. “I think I ran into the hottest person on the planet today. Maybe the hottest woman in the history of the world.”

“Oh? I thought that was me. Do tell me more.” Cary stayed on the other side of the counter, preferring to stand and eat.

I watched him take a couple bites of his own concoction before I felt brave enough to try it myself. “Not much to tell, really. I ended up sprawled on my ass in the lobby of the Crossfire and she gave me a hand up.”

“Tall or short? Blond or dark? Built or lean? Eye color?”

I washed down my second bite with some wine. “Tall. Dark. Lean and built. green eyes. Filthy rich, judging by her clothes and accessories. And she was insanely sexy. You know how it is—some hot people don’t make your hormones go crazy, while some unattractive people have massive sex appeal. This woman had it all.”

My belly fluttered as it had when Dark and Dangerous touched me. In my mind, I remembered her breathtaking face with crystal clarity. It should be illegal for a woman to be that mind-blowing. I was still recovering from the frying of my brain cells.

Cary set his elbow on the counter and leaned in, his long bangs covering one vibrant green eye. “So what happened after she helped you up?”

I shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“I left.”

“What? You didn’t flirt with her?”

I took another bite. Really, the meal wasn’t bad. Or else I was just starving. “she wasn’t the kind of girl you flirt with, Cary.”

“There is no such thing as a girl you can’t flirt with. Even the happily married ones enjoy a little harmless flirtation now and then.”

“There was nothing harmless about this girl,” I said dryly.

“Ah, one of those.” Cary nodded sagely. “Bad boys and girls can be fun, if you don’t get too close.”

Of course he would know; men and women of all ages fell at his feet. Still, he somehow managed to pick the wrong partner every time. He’d dated stalkers, and cheaters, and lovers who threatened to kill themselves over him, and lovers with significant others they didn’t tell him about…Name it, he’d been through it.

“I can’t see this woman ever being fun,” I said. “she was way too intense. Still, I bet she'd be awesome in the sack with all that intensity.”

“Now you’re talking. Forget the real person. Just use ther face in your fantasies and make them perfect there.”

Preferring to get the girl out of my head altogether, I changed the subject. “You have any go-sees tomorrow?”

“Of course.” Cary launched into the details of his schedule, mentioning a jeans advertisement, self-tanner, underwear, and cologne.

I shoved everything else out of my mind and focused on him and his growing success. The demand for Cary Taylor was increasing by the day, and he was building a reputation with photographers and accounts for being both professional and prompt. I was thrilled for him and so proud. He’d come a long way and been through so much.

It wasn’t until after dinner that I noticed the two large gift boxes propped against the side of the sectional sofa.

“What are those?”

“Those,” Cary said, joining me in the living room, “are the ultimate.”

I knew immediately they were from Stanton and my mom. Money was something my mother needed to be happy and I was glad Stanton, husband #3, was not only able to fill that need for her but all her many others as well. I often wished that could be the end of it, but my mom had a difficult time accepting that I didn’t view money the same way she did. “What now?”

He threw his arm around my shoulders, easy enough for him to do because he was taller by five inches. “Don’t be ungrateful. He loves your mom. He loves spoiling your mom, and your mom loves spoiling you. As much as you don’t like it, he doesn’t do it for you. He does it for her.”

Sighing, I conceded his point. “What are they?”

“Glam threads for the advocacy center’s fundraiser dinner on Saturday. A bombshell dress for you and a Brioni tux for me, because buying gifts for me is what he does for you. You’re more tolerant if you have me around to listen to you bitch.”

“Damn straight. Thank God he knows that.”

“Of course he knows. Stanton wouldn’t be a bazillionaire if he didn’t know everything.” Cary caught my hand and tugged me over. “Come on. Take a look.”

I pushed through the revolving door of the Crossfire into the lobby ten minutes before nine the next morning. Wanting to make the best impression on my first day, I’d gone with a simple sheath dress paired with black pumps that I slid on in replacement of my walking shoes on the elevator ride up. My brown hair was twisted up in an artful chignon that resembled a figure eight, courtesy of Cary. I was hair-inept, but he could create styles that were glamorous masterpieces. I wore the small pearl studs my dad had given me as a graduation gift and the Rolex from Stanton and my mother.

I had begun to think I’d put too much care into my appearance, but as I stepped into the lobby I remembered being sprawled across the floor in my workout clothes and I was grateful I didn’t look anything like that graceless girl. The two security guards didn’t seem to put two and two together when I flashed them my ID card on the way to the turnstiles.

Twenty floors later, I was exiting into the vestibule of Waters Field & Leaman. Before me was a wall of bulletproof glass that framed the double-door entrance to the reception area. The receptionist at the crescent-shaped desk saw the badge I held up to the glass. She hit the button that unlocked the doors as I put my ID away.

“Hi, Megumi,” I greeted her when I stepped inside, admiring her cranberry-colored blouse. She was mixed race, a little bit Asian for sure, and very pretty. Her hair was dark and thick, and cut into a sleek bob that was shorter in the back and razor sharp in the front. Her sloe eyes were brown and warm, and her lips were full and naturally pink.

“camila, hi. Mark’s not in yet, but you know where you’re going, right?”

“Absolutely.” With a wave, I took the hallway to the left of the reception desk all the way to the end, where I made another left turn and ended up in a formerly open space now partitioned into cubicles. One was mine and I went straight to it.

I dropped my purse and the bag holding my walking flats into the bottom drawer of my utilitarian metal desk; then booted up my computer. I’d brought a couple of things to personalize my space and I pulled them out. One was a framed collage of three photos—me and Cary on Coronado beach, my mom and Stanton on his yacht in the French Riviera, and my dad on duty in his City of Oceanside, California, police cruiser. The other item was a colorful arrangement of glass flowers that Cary had given me just that morning as a “first day” gift. I tucked it beside the small grouping of photos, and sat back to take in the effect.

“Good morning, Camila.”

I pushed to my feet to face my boss. “Good morning, Mr. Garrity.”

“Call me Mark, please. Come on over to my office.”

I followed him across the strip of hallway, once again thinking that my new boss was very easy to look at with his gleaming dark skin, trim goatee, and laughing brown eyes. Mark had a square jaw and a charmingly crooked smile. He was trim and fit, and he carried himself with a confident poise that inspired trust and respect.

He gestured at one of the two seats in front of his glass and chrome desk, and waited until I sat to settle into his Aeron chair. Against the backdrop of sky and skyscrapers, Mark looked accomplished and powerful. He was, in fact, just a junior account manager and his office was a closet compared to the ones occupied by the directors and executives, but no one could fault the view.

He leaned back and smiled. “Did you get settled into your new apartment?”

I was surprised he remembered, but I appreciated it, too. I’d met him during my second interview and liked him right away.

“For the most part,” I answered. “Still a few stray boxes here and there.”

“You moved from San Diego, right? Nice city, but very different from New York. Do you miss the palm trees?”

“I miss the dry air. The humidity here is taking some getting used to.”

“Wait ’til summer hits.” He smiled. “So…it’s your first day and you’re my first assistant, so we’ll have to figure this out as we go. I’m not used to delegating, but I’m sure I’ll pick it up quick.”

I was instantly at ease. “I’m eager to be delegated to.”

“Having you around is a big step up for me, Camila. I’d like you to be happy working here. Do you drink coffee?”

“Coffee is one of my major food groups.”

“Ah, an assistant after my own heart.” His smile widened. “I’m not going to ask you to fetch coffee for me, but I wouldn’t mind if you helped me figure out how to use the new one-cup coffee brewers they just put in the break rooms.”

I grinned. “No problem.”

“How sad is it that I don’t have anything else for you?” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Why don’t I show you the accounts I’m working on and we’ll go from there?”

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Mark touched bases with two clients and had a long meeting with the creative team working on concept ideas for a trade school. It was a fascinating process seeing firsthand how the various departments picked up the baton from each other to carry a campaign from proposition to fruition. I might’ve stayed late just to get a better feel of the layout of the offices, but my phone rang at ten minutes to five.

“Mark Garrity’s office. Camila Cabello speaking.”

“Get your ass home so we can go out for the drink you rain-checked on yesterday.”

Cary’s mock sternness made me smile. “All right, all right. I’m coming.”

Shutting down my computer, I cleared out. When I reached the bank of elevators, I pulled out my cell to text a quick “on my way” note to Cary. A ding alerted me to which car was stopping on my floor and I moved over to stand in front of it, briefly returning my attention to hitting the send button. When the doors opened, I took a step forward. I glanced up to watch where I was going and green eyes met mine. My breath caught.

The sex god was the lone occupant.

#camren #lauren jauregay #lauren jauregui #fantasy #fanfic #camila coelho

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ghostofbrock · 4 years

Text

venomous words

on a rainy afternoon in new jersey, the kids didn't have an option to go outside or not since they knew how strict their mother was on days like this and how their father would react if he saw mud tracked into the house. they'd be toast with the chancla.

so ellie played with her barbie dolls on the carpet in the living room floor with a small smile on her face, giovanni sat on the couch and watched over his baby sister while trying to look for something to watch in netflix, specifically a movie. luke and auggie were upstairs in their room playing whatever the newer generation was into. the two boys were in sweats that had crumbs on them since the boys were munching on potato chips as they played their game. their mother had just arrived from long and stressful day at work, she sat in her car for a minute or two to collect herself before entering her home where her babies and husband would be waiting for arrival. well maybe just her babies... once again.

she covered herself with her purple umbrella since it was pouring rain as she got out her car, closed the door and locked it before walking to her front porch that wrapped around the house. she closed her umbrella as soon as she was covered by the porch's roof. she grabbed her house key out of her pocket and opened her door.

"mom's home!"

she hasn't stepped foot into her home and she was already called out by her kids. luke and auggie jumped out their beds and ran downstairs as soon as they heard their older brother yell. ellie dropped her doll and skipped over to her mommy as gio stood up from the couch and walked over to her.

as sara closed the door behind her and turned around, she was attacked by hugs all over her body. from her thighs to her shoulders, her children had her trapped in a loving hug.

after she kissed them each and asked about how their day went, they went back to what they were doing before she came home. later they were expecting a home cooked meal that she always provided for them since mattia rarely cooked for them nowadays and sara didn't like having her kids eating fast food all the time either for their health. at times it was acceptable but if they didn't need to eat it then they wouldn't.

sara was now sitting at the island that was in the kitchen, she opened the bottled water she grabbed from the fridge and took a sip.

"how was work?" her oldest son's voice came from behind her. he walked from behind her to next to her and leaned against the marble island. "stressful. overwhelming. busy. i don't know how i'm gonna do it..." she rubs her temples with a groan. "don't over work yourself, ma. you got this, you always do." gio rubs his moms shoulder softly and flashed her a smile. a smile that made her feel better and made her smile.

"i know it's just that i wanna do as much as i can for this project. i've worked my ass off for years for this to finally happen and i'm so close. only a few more months of ridiculous amount of stress then i'll have my own clothing line." a weak smile formed on her lips, gio's heart swells at the sight. he knows how much his mom has been wanting this but he also knows how much she can overwork herself.

"isn't dad helping you with any of it? he said he would, right?" gio asked with his mother with hope as she took another sip of her water. "uh yeah. he is but there's certain things he can't help with." she gave her son a tight smile laced with lies.

truth is mattia hadn't even talked to sara about her huge project that she has been working on for over a year now. he thinks his wife can do it herself because of how strong she is but little did he know how weak she was getting from handling everything by herself. she was never the one to ask for help but this time she did ask for help from her husband but his answer?

"you're being dramatic"

so she never asked again and instead asked her close friends who were of course open to help with anything she needed. she knew that the kids had brought up the project while they talked to mattia recently either at dinner or something similar. and being the good father mattia is he had to lie because he knew if his kids found out their parents weren't helping each other out then they'd question why and jump to conclusions which leads to arguments and picking "sides".

"oh yeah. i've been helping her with scheduling everything and keeping the tabloids updated. she's not as stress thanks to me."

sara would just simply nod and give a small nod to the kids and glare at mattia who just rolled his eyes at her.

"like what?" gio asked. "it's personal business stuff, g. don't worry about it, okay? i'll be fine. but did your dad take you guys out for breakfast like he said he would?" she changed the subject with a smile.

gio avoided eye contact with her which she automatically meant no.

"h-he just forgot. that's all." he stuttered a bit. sara tried to remain as calm as she could. she didn't want to lash out in front of her baby and took a mental note to talk to mattia tonight about not taking the kids out for breakfast.

"you don't have to lie to me, ya know? i won't get mad at him." she sighed and gave her son a reassuring look. "when i woke up this morning he wasn't here. he sent me a text as well saying that something came up and he had to go meet up with his manager for a gig." he simply explains. "so i made breakfast for us instead and lunch too. he sent us money for post mates but i was just mad-" he stopped himself from venting to his mother about his father.

"i didn't use the money. that's all." he shrugs as sara looks at him with sympathy.

"he promised me that he'd try hard for us. to try being more involved... why would he lie?" gio claps his hands together. "sometimes work gets in the way of things, honey. trust me if he could clear his schedule for a whole week just to be with us he would, okay?" the fact that sara was defending mattia wasn't something she wanted to do.

she had to because she didn't want her son to think bad about his own father, she was trying to protect at least both of them.

after their little conversation sara made dinner while the kids were being entertained by the activities they were doing before she got home. as sara looked over at the clock, she sighed.

it was seven o' clock and mattia still wasn't home. usually he'd send his wife a text saying that he was going to be home late but when sara checked her phone she had no new messages. the kids were now sitting at the table with their mother. she sneaked a quick text to mattia before eating with her babies.

sara: are you on your way yet?

she got no response after she sent it. she called twice and still nothing. she was beyond livid at this point. first, he didn't take the kids out for the day, then he doesn't respond to her text or calls her back? this was the third time this month that this occurred. she didn't show it but she was pissed off at dinner and while she tucked this kids into bed.

"is daddy gonna tuck me in too?" ellie asked as she held onto her stuffed giraffe. "yes, baby. of course. when he gets home i'll tell him to come and give you a kiss, okay?" sara's soft voice said as she placed a strand of hair behind her ear. ellie simply smiled at her mother.

"goodnight, angel. te amo." sara kisses ellie's nose. "buenas noches, mommy. te amo mas." the two giggled. once sara finishes tucking in her kids, she goes to her bathroom to take a shower. she then changed into some house shorts and one of mattia's shirts that fit her like a dress.

she went to the living room and ate ice cream as she watched good girls. without even knowing it, she fell asleep on the couch. she was woken up by someone whispering her name softly and rubbing her cheek gently with their palm.

she opened her eyes to see mattia with a smile. oh how much she wanted to wipe that stupid smile off his stupid face.

"did you make dinner?" he questions her. "yeah. we ate already so i put your plate in the fridge. now if you excuse me i'm going to bed." she was too tired to deal with him right now. she would have to be up bright and early tomorrow for meetings and such so she just didn't want to argue with her husband right now.

she got up from the couch and tried walking away but mattia reached out for her hand to stop her.

"you guys didn't wait for me? what happened to family dinners?" he asks with a pout as he held her hand. she quickly glanced at the clock on the wall for a time check.

2:34 a.m.

"i was not gonna wait till now to eat with you and neither were the kids, mattia. family dinners means that everyone has to be here at reasonable times." she sighs and glares at him. "where were you anyways, mattia? it's past midnight and you barely got home." she questions quickly and changed the subject.

"i was out. it's not a big deal, babe." he scoffs at her.

"not a big deal? if it's not a big deal then why can't you tell me where you were?" she remarked quickly and crossed her arms over her chest.

mattia gives her a look, as if she was crazy or something. all she wanted to know was where he was at, what was so hard about that?

he started walking to the kitchen, sara quickly followed him.

"sara, i've had a long day. please don't start with me right now..." he huffs as he opens the fridge and grabs his plate of cold food. "says the guy who comes home late smelling like alcohol and cigarettes." she looks at him from across the island.

"i didn't do shit! all i did was go to a bar with alejandro and alvaro after i finished my meetings. they drank but i didn't because i knew you'd react like this and treat me like some kid!" he was getting frustrated with her at this point, he showed it by banging his fist on the island. his breath reeked of alcohol so she was even more pissed off that he was lying to her about drinking.

"all i wanted to do was come home to my wife and kids. a nice home cooked meal and after the kids go to bed and we all settle down, maybe some good sex with my wife but i can't have that can't i? ever since you've gotten this attitude all you ever do is complain! you're on bitch mood twenty four seven, sara!" he was now raising his voice at her.

sara had no energy to argue with him right now. literally nothing left. she had a long day, she just wanted to sleep. she looked at him with tired eyes, she scanned his facial expression and saw the anger he always had all of a sudden now. right now she ignored it and walked away, but he didn't let her.

"where the fuck are you going?" he turned her around a little bit too rough. "to bed, mattia! i'm too tired to deal with your bullshit right now." she stated as she tried not to yell at him.

"whatever. go ahead, walk away. that's all you're good at since you can't do anything right. you definitely can't be a good wife." his words felt like knives. she felt like her heart was getting stabbed completely, over and over again.

she walked off, pretending that what he just said didn't phase her and went upstairs quietly so she wouldn't wake the kids.

little did she know, gio was hiding behind a pillar near the stairs where he heard everything.

she went to the room which she shared with her "husband" and jumped into bed. she laid in bed for a minute, thinking about what mattia said. his words repeating in her head like that one song that could never get out of your head.

"you definitely can't be a good wife."

those venomous words scared her pretty much. she couldn't believe he said that... why would he say that? was she really not a good wife? what was she doing that made her so horrible to him? was it the kisses? was it her cooking? was it her looks? was it the sex? the constant need of having him around? what was it?

whatever it was made her feel like she wasn't good enough which was not the case.

sara was always good enough.

she cried herself to sleep that night. and hours later she felt his presence next to her body, his arms wrapped around her keeping her warm but it didn't make her feel loved like it usually did. no, she had a different feeling. she felt like she was in bed with a stranger. why was she feeling this way? shouldn't she be happy that he was still willing to sleep in the same bed with her?

all the questions she thought of made her feel more insecure, not about herself but about her marriage with the man she loved so much. the last thing she wanted was to lose him, it would ruin her.

she hopes for an apology of some sort. perhaps a date to make it up, she'd be willing to forgive him. she knows he lied about not drinking, mattia could never say no to not have a beer or three with the boys. he wasn't thinking straight, she knows her husband too well.

he just didn't want to admit that he was drinking because he didn't want to feel more guilt than he was already feeling since he missed out on dinner.

so the next morning she was woken up by the smell of pancakes and bacon. she went downstairs and saw gio and mattia cooking at the stove, auggie and ellie coloring on the table while luke looked sleep deprived as he walked into the kitchen with his mom.

"morning, amor." mattia walks over to her holding a plate of stacked pancakes with all the works. he bends down a bit to kiss her oh so sweetly, they both smile into the kiss. "i handled everything you needed to do today so we can all spend quality family time and to start off the day i thought of making breakfast." he hands her the plate where she takes it and sits at the table. once everyone is served the all began to eat.

"you have to cook more, pop. these smack!" auggie speaks as he licks his lips. "maybe i will." mattia laughs as he looks over at his son. "how'd you sleep, ma?" gio asked simply. the way he asked her sounded like he knew something (which he did since he heard what his father told his mom last night) but no one thought too much of it.

"good, baby." she lied with a smile. gio could tell that she was lying but he wasn't going to confront her about eavesdropping on her and mattia.

they all ate breakfast in peace and with joy. gio couldn't stop looking at his mom and dad. especially, his mom since she seemed so happy. didn't mattia's drunk words hurt her? was she really pretending that nothing happened between her and her husband? he couldn't believe she was still protecting mattia after what he told her.

"what's up with you?" luke nudges his older brother's elbow slightly. "what?" was gio's response. "you keep on staring at mom. i get that she's beautiful but it's starting to look weird now. quit it." luke let out a dry chuckle after he spoke.

gio just rolled his eyes and finished his breakfast. once the family finished eating they were told to get ready for a day out. mattia said that he'd be taking them out to the carnival since it happened to be in town.

"hey, can we talk?" mattia closed the door behind him as he walked into his bedroom. sara was sitting at her vanity deciding what necklace to wear that she had in her jewelry box.

"yeah, what's up?" she nods and turns her body to face him. he sits in the edge of their bed as she sat across from him in her spinning stool.

"first off, i want to apologize for last night. i know i should've gave you a heads up about dinner and coming home late. yes, i did drink and i didn't mean any of what i said. i was drunk and stupid. i'm sorry, mamas." he gave a look filled with guilt and he really didn't mean those things that he told her last night.

"tia... i accept your apology, okay? you just had me worried because you weren't texting or calling me back. and i just had a stressful day overall yesterday." she sighed. "i know, baby. you shouldn't be overworking yourself either. i also took the liberty of organizing all of your meetings and handling the little things for your project. i know you've wanted this for the longest time and i hate to see you so worrisome about the little things, babe. i wanted to help you." he explains which made her heart feel a certain way. only he was able to give her that feeling as crazy as it sounds.

"i really do have the best husband in the world, huh?" she giggles. "and i have the best wife ever. being all sexy and shit." he winks at her which makes her blush.

"come give me a kiss." he adds and she obeys. she gets up from her chair and straddles mattia's lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and plays with his hair. she dips her head down, he catches her lips with his own. the kiss was soft and sweet, all of their worries seemed to wash away. almost as if all their problems went away as well... boy were they in for it.

#mattia polibio #writing #shorts #bookish #aesthetic #camila mendes #home #new jersey #tiktok #tik tok boys #kairi #alejandro #spaces!mattia

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