#Sorry to his husbands apparently he is mostly straight

[redseamstress]

Straight test.

It's news to him-

[mypoisonedvine]

In dark corners is fucking AMAZING… it’s insane. It’s too good. Died a little on the inside when I saw it’s the only Sirius fic you’ve written. So talented.

I know this technically wasn't a request and you may not even know I was about to do my sleepover but I decided I really ought to write another sirius fic! so, here's a drabble just for you with young!sirius just to mix it up <3

warnings: smut (18+ only please), oral f receiving, a bit of dubcon but it's just hesitance, shy!reader, teasing, sirius being cocky as fuck, discussions of arranged marriage, bi!reader, very brief implied homophobia (not by sirius of course) and mention of blood status discrimination

"Well, they didn't lie," he decided with crossed arms and a tilted head, "you are pretty."

You nervously wrung your hands, glancing down briefly at your leather loafers as they shifted slightly on the study's hardwood floor— freshly waxed, your shoes and the floor. Everything had been prepared so carefully for this moment, the moment that you were meeting the man that might (hopefully) become your husband.

Apparently, they'd told him you were pretty, but you figured that was only part of their long matchmaking speech: a good, pureblooded girl from a respected family, distinguished and ladylike, demure, and at the perfect age to bear children!

You got a speech, too, but you knew half of it was a lie. You'd heard stories about Sirius long before you were taken here to be presented to him: stories of a rebel, a wild young man up to all kinds of things he shouldn't be. It made you even more intimidated to be standing in front of him, watching the way he watched you.

"Th-thank you, sir," you mumbled quietly, finally reacting to his compliment, and he smirked just a bit.

"I hear you've got excellent marks at Hogwarts," he continued, "straight Os, no?"

You got excited to brag about that, and perked up: "Yes, sir," you agreed.

He frowned. "Seems like a waste," he said. You sighed, unsure how you could've disappointed him with that but too afraid to ask. "Don't you get up to any fun?"

You blinked quickly, unsure how to answer. "I read for fun, sir— mostly wizarding history but some stories, too—"

"Why do you keep calling me 'sir'? Do you think I'm your teacher or something?"; when you looked at him again, you realised he was standing closer than you thought. It made you aware of how much taller he was than you, how inquisitive his eyes were, how soft his lips looked—

"I'm sorry— it's just how I was raised, sir— er, Mister Black— I call any man 'sir'..."

"Well, I'm not much of a man, am I?" he noticed, smiling. "Only twenty-one. And you, barely finished with your final year of school— you're hardly a woman."

You swallowed thickly, feeling you'd disappointed him again.

"Your parents assured me, in fact, that no one had... made a woman of you, so to speak," he added. "I knew better than to believe that— parents never know anything. But looking at you now, how nervous you are... I almost could believe it."

Your face got warm, not sure exactly what he meant but certainly getting an idea of the spirit of it.

He stepped closer again, so close you could smell his cologne, and your heartbeat picked up. "So, when I ask what kind of fun you've gotten up to," he continued, voice lowered, "I don't mean reading dusty old tomes."

You dared to look up at him, your lips parting as you tried to think what you should say.

"Look at you," he chuckled mockingly, running his fingers over your jawline, "you've probably never done a naughty thing in your life."

Feeling defensive, you knitted your eyebrows and returned, "Have to!"

You hated how childish you sounded, but he seemed to like it— or at least be amused by it. "Prove it, then," he challenged.

"I— I kissed two different boys this year," you said proudly, and he put on an impressed expression.

"Two boys? In one year? Merlin's beard, what a slut!" he said sarcastically, and even if he was joking you tensed up at that word.

"I... I kissed a girl, too," you added more softly, and he raised his brows. "Eileen Walsh... a girl in my year, a Ravenclaw... it was her idea, but we kissed for a few minutes in a potions closet—"

"Hm, alright," he nodded, finally seeming impressed, "the potions closet is more naughty than the girl-kissing, you know. Where someone could've caught you."

Your face kept getting warmer as your mind split its attention between memories of Eileen— red hair tickling your shoulder, freckled fingers petting over your breasts through your sweater vest, shelves pressing into your back as she pressed into you— and Sirius standing before you now with his tongue darting out to lick his lips.

"If you only like girls, maybe we can make a deal then," he offered. "I'll agree to the marriage and if you want, you can go on kissing girls without any of the worry about your parents, since you've got a nice husband to keep them distracted—"

"N-no, I like boys too," you insisted, "I even... I let one touch me, you know... there."

His smile grew into a wide, toothy grin. "There, huh?"

You nearly jumped when his fingers brushed over your dress, starting at your side and trailing lower slowly— teasingly.

"Will you let me touch you there?" he whispered, lips right against your ear.

"I-if we're to be married," you mitigated, and he gave you a sort of offended look.

"So you'll let students cop a feel, but I can only touch you if we're engaged?" he noticed.

"Yes," you decided, "I should've— I should have never let them— but I was just so—"

"So... desperate," he finished for you as his fingers moved down your your thigh, teasing you with the possibility that he might really reach under your dress. "I can understand that. But if you're supposed to be my wife, I need to really see you, don't I?"

Your thighs pressed together. "See me?"

"Under your dress," he explained; you shivered a little.

"I— our parents are downstairs," you recalled, "in the parlour— if we tried to— they might—"

"Shh, they won't come up," he promised, his hand suddenly dipping under your dress' hem and grabbing onto your thigh; you gasped, your hands reaching up to hold his shoulders as he pet your skin just above the top of your stockings. "They want me to have time alone with you, to decide if I'll finally give in to one of their arrangements. As long as you can keep quiet, they won't know a thing, darling."

Darling. The way that made you bite your lip was proof of how badly you wanted to be his wife already, just to have him call you that again.

His hands suddenly moved up to the back of your dress, unbuttoning it. You definitely shouldn't have let him, but you were charmed in a way much stronger than a literal charm could do— you were already so eager to please him, maybe that was just the raised as much as your compulsion to call him 'sir'.

It wasn't much longer until your dress was on the floor around your loafers, and you were left in your bra and panties, plus the stockings of course.

"Saving yourself for marriage with a body like this," he clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "Now that's a shame."

"I'm sure my husband will appreciate that I waited for him," you decided, though your voice sounded shaky and breathless in a way you hadn't expected.

You gasped as he pushed you up against the credenza behind you, shoving some things off and out of the way so he could sit you on it and spread your legs. "Maybe I do," he admitted.

"S-so, you want to agree to the arrangement, then?" you realised, looking down at him with wide eyes.

He smiled at you, starting to hook a finger into your panties to pull them to the side. "If you please me," he bargained.

And a moment later, he dove in with a sloppy, hungry kiss to your cunt; whining right away, you found yourself arching your back up off the wall and tangling your fingers into his hair. "S-sirius!" you sighed. "I— oh, we shouldn't be— can't it wait until—?"

"Couldn't fucking wait," he responded before you'd finished (not that there was any hope of you getting that sentence out), mumbling against your sensitive skin. "Had to taste you, darling."

Every time he licked up your cunt, your whole body shook— you really had no excuse for being so sensitive, maybe it was all your nerves since you'd gotten to the Black residence... maybe it was that you'd been waiting far too long for someone to really pleasure you like this.

He hummed happily against you, moaned even, as he took tight grip of your thighs and suckled harder at your swelling clit.

"Oh, fuck—" you whimpered, feeling him smile when you said a bad word.

Apparently hoping to hear it again, he slipped two fingers inside you like it was nothing at all— because it was, with how wet you were.

"Fuck!" you yelped, fulfilling his wish, and he shut his eyes as he used his fingers and mouth in perfect harmony to absolute drown you in pleasure; it was only this one small portion of your body he was touching, but you felt it all over you— gooseflesh, waves of shivers and shocks, your toes curling inside your fucking stupid loafers.

"Not too loud, darling," he reminded you with a smirk, breaking away from your clit but keeping his fingers twisting inside you.

"Oh, shut up," you hissed, grabbing him by the hair and guiding him back to his work. He could've punished you for your insolence if he wanted, taken his fingers away and only given teasing licks to your bud until you apologised, but instead he just smiled proudly and got back to it— if anything he was more aggressive than before, guiding you right to the edge as he speared his fingers harder and faster into you. "I'm— fuck, m'close, Sirius, please don't stop— g'na come, please—"

He moaned against you— what a lovely sound that was— and kept going even more fiercely until it all cracked and you were melting onto that credenza: drips of arousal ran down his hand and chin, down your thighs to stain your stocks, and he lapped at them with eager abandon.

"F-fuck, wait," you whimpered when it all became too much at once, pushing him away by that thoroughly-mussed mop of chestnut hair. He grinned up at you with a slick, shining smile, and you felt a bit embarrassed as you sobered up enough to realise how whorish you'd really been.

"Yes, I think this will make for a fun engagement," he deciding, still panting, still on his knees before you. "But, let's get you dressed before we tell the parents."

[kim-jongin-s]

svt fic recs (mostly nc-17; jeongcheol, minwon, wonchan + other)

JEONGCHEOL

"a bit more than you". oneshot, 0.9k. pg-13.

Seungcheol always thinks he loves Jeonghan more.

"where love stays". oneshot, 2k. pg-13.

It’s Sunday and Seungcheol is running late.

"don't see us saying goodbye". oneshot, 3k. pg-13.

what if the love of your life ends up doing his service in your hometown and you abandon your friends to see him.

"stupid jocks and stupid bets". + soonhoon. college!au. oneshot, 4k. nc-17.

Seungcheol and Soonyoung are always making stupid bets. This time, while the two couples are supposed to be studying like the good students they are, Jeonghan and Jihoon unexpectedly find themselves at the center of yet another ego-driven bet.

"easy to want, hard to get". au: idol!sc. twoshot, 6.6k. pg-13.

Yoon Jeonghan’s fake husband is his longest running bit yet.

"ghost in the sheets". au, rule 63. oneshot, 7k. nc-17.

Someone is haunting Seungcheol.

"i will not ask and neither should you". au. oneshot, 12k. pg-13.

"Hyung," Mingyu says, sounding tired. "He lets you get away with everything. What’s a little more?”

"spider, beetle, bee". au: single dad!sc. oneshot, 21.5k. nc-17. ♡♡

“I’m going to have to talk with him about that— uh— I’m sorry, you’ve been, like, babysitting my kid three times a week, apparently.”

(Seungcheol learns about the inherent homoeroticism of sitting on a park bench with his kid’s imaginary friend.

MINWON

"amor, let me breathe deeply". omegaverse: alpha!ww, omega!mg. oneshot, 6k. nc-17. ♡

“Are you stupid?” a new voice chimes in. “If you had an omega like Kim fucking Mingyu, would your beta ass let him go?”

Oh, they’re talking about him. Them, actually. Conversations about Mingyu end up turning into conversations about Wonwoo, if they talk for long enough.

"fever pitch". omegaverse: omega!ww, alpha!mg. oneshot, 6k. nc-17.

Wonwoo pulled up the collar of his jersey and held it to his nose. Like many of the spectators, he was also wearing a jersey that read KIM, 17 across the back. The difference was that while others had purchased their official gear from a store, Wonwoo was wearing Mingyu's actual jersey.

"for you". film student!au. oneshot, 8.6k. nc-17.

Mingyu has a bad day. Wonwoo fixes it.

"the left side of everywhere". au: model!mg. oneshot, 12k. nc-17.

Wonwoo hadn’t anticipated running into his ex-fiancé in Paris, let alone ending up in his hotel suite. But after a night of high emotions and long-overdue honesty, he’s left unsure of what comes next. One thing, however, is clear: he’s still in love with Kim Mingyu, and he’ll do whatever it takes to prove he’s worthy of a second chance.

"no good reason". au: gang leader!ww. 15 chapters, 108k. nc-17.

Wonwoo, who has had everything ripped away from him, meets Mingyu, who’s been handed life on a silver platter.

WONCHAN

"come through and chill". au: idol!ww. oneshot, 2k. nc-17.

They're not actually together, but if he's in town the first place Wonwoo goes is Chan's apartment.

"asphyxiate". college!au: professor!ww, student!dn. oneshot, 8k. nc-17.

Chan wonders if it’s possible to asphyxiate on want alone. Professor Jeon sits across from him, looking intimidating behind the wood of the university issued desk, appearing disinterested as he rolls a pen between his fingers. But his eyes are locked on Chan’s mouth, and Chan knows that the points are in his favor during this game.

"welcome back, pavlov's dog". au: hybrid!dn. 3 chapters, 15k. nc-17. ♡

“Good morning, Chan,” Wonwoo says in a tone that he thinks is pleasant enough, “I’m Jeon Wonwoo, and I’m going to be the specialist in charge of you until…” Well, Seungcheol hasn’t really specified any time frame, only that money isn’t an object when it came to Chan’s treatment plan, “… well, until further notice. If you have any issues and concerns, it’s best that you go straight to me.”

OTHER

"sickeningly sweet like honey". seokhao. omegaverse: omega!dk, omega!mh. oneshot, 4k. nc-17.

Minghao is welcomed home with a night of Seokmin in his nest and under his hands.

"so hot you're hurting my feelings". gyushua. oneshot, 5k. nc-17.

One night in L.A., Mingyu goes to a bar he's heard will be a good time. Jisoo is waiting and watching and ready to give Mingyu exactly what he's looking for.

"adornment". seokgyu. oneshot, 6k. nc-17.

“You deserve to be babied. You deserve to be done up all pretty. You’re perfect.” Seokmin praises. “You--deserve--everything.”

"dying for you". verkwan. au. oneshot, 21k. nc-17. ♡

There’s an almost comically drawn out pause filled with only the sound of sizzling meat on the grill.

“Oh,” says Seokmin. “So you’re in love with the not dead guy.”

[oatmealcrisp-freak]

So I did the thing.

Deleted scene under the read more!

They drop off the groceries and get straight into the car. It still feels weird driving a Kia Soul. 

Lucky for them, a minutes worth of Googling and a phone call had confirmed that a nearby vet took emergency appointments, and would be able to fit them in in about a half hour.

So off they went.

Rei didn’t say a word the entire time. Kazuki could understand why. The guy was utterly enchanted with the little kitten, holding it to his chest with his hand, his eyes absolutely fixated on the little thing. It was meowing up a racket now, apparently determined to be louder than the engine of the car.

‘Probably crying for its mother,’ Kazuki thought, and pressed back his anger behind a smile. 

The kitten was surely too young to be without their mother. Had unfortunate circumstances separated them, or had it been intent? Impossible to say, but the temptation to call up Kyu’s information network was itching at him.

‘That’s one way to get sucked back into a life we don’t need, though.’ Kazuki thought.

Rei’s sacrifice meant too much to him to do that. No. Kyu was their friend only, no longer their informant.

Besides. 

He could do some scouting just fine himself.

The vet’s office was busy, and had a sign on the door declaring that all animals must either be in a carrier or on a leash.

Unfortunately for them, they had neither of those things.

“Sorry that we, uh, didn’t have a carrier for it,” Kazuki laughed off his nerves to the receptionist. “We couldn’t find any boxes and the one we found in it was all soggy.”

“It’s fine, but just this once, alright?” The receptionist said with a smile. “Alright, your name?”

“Kazuki Kurusu,” Kazuki said, and debated batting his eyelashes because the receptionist was cute. “And yours?”

The receptionist giggled a touch. “You’re going to ask me that with your boyfriend right there?”

“Ah!” Kazuki snapped his fingers with a put out expression. “Dang, you caught me.”

Was it really so unusual for two grown men to go to a vet’s office together? Well. 

Rei was his partner. It wasn’t like she was wrong. 

Monogamous life, though. Kazuki hesitated to say it didn’t suit him, but at the same time, that was the truth. It plainly didn’t.

Yuzuko’s death had changed him.

It might be simpler than getting accused of cheating on his ‘husband’ every so often, but it was just the case that Kazuki couldn’t. He’d rather sleep with other people than put pressure on Rei, too. Seriously, though, people’s preconceptions and biases could be such a pain.

“He doesn’t mind, though.” Kazuki grinned, and waggled his eyebrows. “I’ll give you my phone number too?”

“Hey.” Rei said.

The receptionist just grinned back at him. “Please do, I need that anyway for your registration form.”

“Not your little black book?” Kazuki pouted.

The receptionist shook her head. “I’m flattered, but no.”

“Stop flirting with her, she’s at work where she has to be nice to you. It’s rude.” Rei said.

“Ah,” Kazuki sighed. “You’re right. Hey.”

He looked back at Rei and hitched an eyebrow. “Where’d you pick that up from? Your cartoons?”

Rei simply blinked sedately back at him, not insulted in the least by Kazuki’s prodding at his still somewhat lacking social skills. 

“Miri.” He said.

“Aaahh, that makes sense.” He turned back to the receptionist. “Sorry about that. Anyways, our phone number is-”

Next was their home address, and then the kitten’s details, which mostly had to be skipped over in thanks to the fact they simply didn’t know the kitten’s details. If they named the little tyke without Miri’s consideration, too, she’d most certainly flip. 

Plus. Nothing was for certain yet.

‘So why am I thinking like it is?’ Kazuki thought to himself as he studied the examination room’s ceiling. He’d just caught himself trying to make room in their budget for things like cat food and litter. Geeze. 

He was getting soft in his old age.

“Kazuki.”

Kazuki blinked over at Rei. “Hm?”

“Don’t worry about the budget so much.” 

“Eh?” Kazuki laughed. “What, did you get psychic powers just now? How could you tell?”

“From the way you look.” Rei said, and reached up to poke Kazuki in the forehead. "Right here."

[hekate1308]

Do I Look Like I Knew That

Prompt: Do I Look Like I Knew That?

Fandom: Good Omens

Pairing: Ineffable Husbands

Crowley still can’t believe that they’ve made it here. After everything, after six thousand years, they have finally managed to set things straight and buy a cottage – although they are of course keeping the book shop because anything else would be unthinkable.

Still, here they are. He would thank God every day for that if the subject weren’t still a little touchy with him, and he has an idea that she wouldn’t answer anyway, because she never does.

Currently, Aziraphale is reading and Crowley is lying on the couch, being very content with just staring at his angel because he can.

Now and then, one of them will say something or other, but mostly they are happy to be silent together.

Until Aziraphale raises his head and says, “I have to say, dear, I am still surprised that you had no idea that Jane Austen wrote books.”

“Do I look like I knew that?” he asks lazily, not caring one bit. He and good old Jane had a lot of fun together back in the day, if she wanted to write books in her spare time, that’s fine by him.

“Still… next thing you’ll see you know nothing about Edith Wharton.”

“As if anyone would forget her” Crowley says immediately. “The good angel of Paris. The kind of charity she undertook in World War I was really something…” While he was technically supposed to delight in wars and the Inquisition and other things the humans came up with, Crowley has always held to having principles, and sometimes… To this day he can’t really visit Spain without shuddering.

Another moment of silence, but this was is startled and Crowley groans when he realizes what that means. “Oh don’t tell me. She wrote something too?”

“She was the first woman to win the Pulitzer Prize for Age of Innocence…”

Oh. Good for her. Remembering all she did, she most definitely deserved it, and if Aziraphale likes it, it must be rather good, too. “Glad to hear it” he therefore says.

Aziraphale looks at him with that fondness in his eyes he never bothers to hide anymore, and Crowley couldn’t be happier, no matter how many other people who wrote books are unknown to him.

They are taking a walk, holding hands because they can. The inhabitants of South Downs quickly grew used to them so nobody blinks an eye these days.

It’s a beautiful October day, the kind that makes not even Crowley sorry to be a snake, because the sun is out.

Aziraphale waves at Mrs. Folly, the kind old lady who is their closest neighbour and was the first to approach them with cookies and greetings, one of which his angel appreciated more than the other, although he would never openly show that, naturally.

“So where do you want to have lunch, dear?” Aziraphale asks and he shrugs because as long as they are together, it doesn’t matter to him one bit.

“Wherever you want, Angel.”

Aziraphale beams and Crowley thinks he’ll let him choose forever if this is the reaction he gets.

They are spending an evening home, and it feels so homely and wonderful that Crowley has actually curled up into a snake and slid unto Aziraphale’s lap. Now and then, he will pat him, causing him to hiss in contentment. It’s alright, Aziraphale knows the difference between that and his annoyed hisses when he gets woken up from his nap.

He eventually glances upwards because he really wants to know what Aziraphale is reading – he doesn’t have to know – and it’s –

Of course it would be the one they talked about. He doesn’t roll his eyes. Barely. He can’t imagine that Aziraphale hasn’t already read that particular work several hundred times, like so many other things…

His thoughts drift off as his angel continues to read, and he finds himself wondering if there are any other authors he doesn’t know about – no, that’s not what he means – if there are other people he knew and thought he knew well who wrote books. When it comes to Jane Austen, she’s apparently even primarily known for her novels, or that’s what the angel said, which he can’t help but feel she would have laughed at. A good sense of humour was one of her best characteristics, after all…

Edith Wharton wasn’t as quick to laugh, but she was always quick to help, and that counted for something, back then, Crowley actually spent quite a bit of time in France in World War I – and might have sometimes supported her charities while being very careful that Hell didn’t hear. They were always very touchy when it comes to this.

All of this is now behind them, though, and he relaxes into a comfortable nap as Aziraphale pats him once more.

[tiger-moran]

The Fifth Browning

What I liked about it: nothing

What I didn't like about it: this was so boring. Moriarty is some kind of spy who's playing both sides and trying to start WWI mostly I think just for profit? Which sounds a lot like A Game of Shadows only this managed to make it really really boring and Moriarty totally uninteresting. There's way too much detail about guns and warships and the history of warfare and shit. This is supposed to be fiction, it's supposed to be entertaining, not make me feel like I'm reading a tedious text about war and weaponry. And sorry but Moriarty having a grandchild rubs me the wrong way too because you're definitely implying with that that he was straight.

Was Moran in it: no

Would I read this again: no way

-

The Modjeska Waltz

What I liked about this: I'm struggling to find anything to be honest

What I didn't like about this: this story uses one of my favourite ideas, that Moriarty has admiration for Irene Adler (or Irene Norton as she should be) and that he perhaps makes use of her without harming/killing her. But it blows it. Moriarty sounds alternately like a petulant child or a 'bumbling idiot' character. Irene is equally unlikeable and comes across as vindictive and as being rude and unpleasant about people I do not believe for a moment she would be rude and unpleasant about given how kind she was in the canon. The author has clearly either totally forgotten or deliberately erased Godfrey - you know, that dude who is Irene's husband who she canonically loved and was loved by; either way there is never once any acknowledgement of him or of her marriage. Moriarty basically pushes her into going along with his scheme and then apparently I'm supposed to, what, cheer for her outwitting him and destroying something supposedly scientifically important basically out of spite? I'm not going to cheer for that. You took two of my favourite canonical characters and made me dislike both of them immensely.

And Irene could not grind a piece of asteroid to dust under her shoe, if a piece of asteroid a/ has made it through our atmosphere to land on earth and b/ is hard and dense enough to be put in a piece of jewellery it would be a piece of metal.

Was Moran in it: possibly? There's a porter guy Irene thinks might be Moran but it's never confirmed and he doesn't get to do much anyway

Would I read it again: no

[chryzuree]

hi for the love of god hello 😩 2, 3, 4, 5, 11, 12, aaaand 15 for the chrysi caraval universe questions? (feel free to just pick whichever ones you wanna answer most if you don’t wanna do them all :3)

2. when in canon does your self insert come in? do you have a scene in mind for your entrance?

she comes in before everything <333 she is the catalyst for allllll of jacks’s baggage. and anyway, she shows up post-finale like ohhh. yeah. sorry abt that guys. i’m the one that gave him the cursed kiss and everything <333 teehee!!

the actual scene i have in mind (well, i have two—the first is a fake-out, where scarlett doesn’t know that the girl she’s been looking for is the girl that she’s currently talking to—chrysi calls herself di, so i understand the confusion) is at some sort of gala/trap for eris, where scarlett and julian and jacks are locked in there w chrysi and azure. chrysi’s like oh!!! hey honey!!!!!!! now if you’ll excuse me, my husband is taking care of our reincarnation curse.

3. how do the other characters generally feel about your self insert?

they all think she’s soooo cool and also soooooo fucked up. they all come to her for advice and are always surprised by the fact that chrysi’s advice involves murder, curses, or curse-murders. why would you expect otherwise? also, everyone comes to a consensus that she’s hot and they want to impress her rlly rlly badly.

4. would you be considered a main character, side character, villain, or something else?

she’s the main quest prize in my version of a spin-off (first book), then…. the protagonist, but not the main character, according to my quick double check of lit rules. shes the main reason the plot progresses, on account of her then trying to break the reincarnation curse (book two), then settling for getting azure back so they can have a few more years of happiness before tragedy hits. sometimes i swap those last two bits, but ultimately, she’s THEE point of the whole story. even in canon. jacks’s main motivation 😘

5. does your self insert have any special powers or abilities?

indeed!! she has her witchy set, which is ghost/death related, w some necromancy straight up thrown in, then her half-star set, which includes creating fates, and control via fear (she WAS supposed to be in charge of fear AND love, but when she created jacks, she accidentally cleaved her power in two… he has been fashioned into her soulmate on accident… sorry… (he does NOT care. is he allowed to kiss her now??))

11. what kind of outfit(s) does your self insert wear?

i have so many silhouettes that i’d want to hit with my fantasy world beam, purely so i can (apparently) have chrysi scandalize the whole caraval universe. the whole time, a girl didn’t wear pants. not ONCE.

chrysi shows up in this and it’s all over for them:

for every day, she’d mostly wear something like this:

then an actual dress, you know her. she’s wearing this:

12. how would the fandom view your character?

i think people would hate her, cause of how murdery and mean she can be. and also bc she’d take jacks from the others & nobody can face the reality that jacks would want a bitch to keep him in his place. god forbid girls have personalities outside of being innocent girls!!

[ninjastormhawkkat]

Alex didn’t blame Two Brains for reacting this way. As much as he hated Maddrix for what he did, he always suspected deep down Two Brains still had some care for his father. No he never blamed him for that. How could he? It’s what caught them all off guard and shocked them when Maddrix killed his parents and Rebecca. He had seen before how Maddrix acted outside of the costume. When he was just Matthew Dunner. It was honestly hard to picture Matthew Dunner and Maddrix the Malicious as the same person. Maddrix was a cold blooded, ruthless, killing villain. Matthew was still dark and scary looking, but he was also a loving and kind caring husband and father. Alex knew that Two Brains had grown up with both sides of his dad. He knew that as much as Gene had every right to hate the killer and villains side of Maddrix, it was very difficult for him to hate the father side of him. Alex was one of the few besides Tristan that knew while Two Brains hated and despised Maddrix, he had always secretly mourned the loss of his father Matthew. Now it was becoming extremely difficult for Two Brains to distinguish between those lines again. He just held Two Brains close and kissed the top of his head. Emily sighed with exhaustion as she dropped into her seat. It had been a long day for her. First she had gotten into an intense argument with the producer of the news studio over that broadcast. It was mostly her yelling at him for letting them air information without first fact checking it and no just because it was from an anonymous tip doesn’t make the story credible. After some bargaining and intense pleading from the producer to not cut their funding, Emily agreed to let them air a retraction tomorrow morning where they would apologize for the false information they said about her father and cousin Steven. She unfortunately couldn’t do anything about the news of Maddrix the Malicious being back because a lot of people saw him running through the streets and getting into a tussle with the Newport heroes. Emily had planned to drive over to her brother’s house later after the heat died down, but now she had to stick to a phone call since she still had her hands full in dealing with the mass panic caused earlier. Luckily her brothers-in-laws along with their friends eased things up a bit for her in damage control. Emily also frustratingly spent a long time trying to contact the c.e.o of B.E.A.W labs or at least their representative since their phone number was listed apparently. It all had gone straight to voice mail. Soon Sally Botsford came rushing in along with Emily’s assistant Henry Wyrd. Emily straightened up with worry when she noticed the panicked expressions on their faces. “What’s wrong now?” Emily bluntly asked. Sally spoke up first. “I’m sorry to bother you with everything you have going on but I just got an urgent call from my husband Tim. He was helping Two Brains house sit while he and a few others went to go after Mr. Maddrix and Becky who ran off earlier. Tim went to make some food for Sunshine who was pregnant but when he came back some time later, the whole house was a mess and everyone looked like they had been attacked. Tim had no idea this was happening because he was listening to his music while cooking.” Emily’s expression became pale with worry as she shot up from her chair and grabbed her keys and coat. “Thank you for informing me Mrs. Botsford. I need to leave now. Henry can you…” “I can take care of the rest of the paper work and will try again to contact the B.E.A.W labs c.e.o for you Miss Boxleitner. You have more important matters to tend to.” Henry spoke in a serious tone with a sympathetic look towards his boss. Emily gave him a gracious smile and mouthed thanks before rushing out of the office and to her car. Once she got inside and started up her vehicle, Emily picked up her phone to dial Victor. “Victor hey. It’s me Emily. Something bad just happened and you need to head to our bother’s house as soon as you can! I’m going there too.” @dualnaturedscientist

He swore that his granddaughter had taken off in this direction. Not noticing the heroes that were being stalled by Amazo Guy, unfortunately for him they had noticed him or rather one. Their leader was getting more agitated by Amazo Guy by the second. One of them nervously got his attention and pointed in the direction Maddrix had taken off. Obviously not fooled by the makeshift cape. If they were going to be honest, that was what tipped them off. He was still wearing the Christmas sweater Tim had gotten him. That would've made them brush him off as just an old man running away if he hadn't taken that cape of his.  It was recognizable especially to Atomic Steele. Just as they were about to go after him, a very annoyed and now angry looking Amazo Guy had put himself between them. That wasn't going to be easy to explain, especially with Atomic Steele. He understood very much where he came from. He did. He knew it would be difficult to convince him to let Maddrix the Malicious go. The dark and straight up murderous look in his eyes told Alex there wasn't a chance he could be reasoned with. Especially when what he was after was right there. Alex didn't want to fight them but he could stall them further. Matthew had finally seen where Becky had gone, seeing her flying in the distance. He kept running as fast as he could. Even with his abilities, he was still definitely not in his youth anymore. He felt himself become  tired out but he couldn't have his granddaughter unintentionally get herself hurt in this state. Of course. She would be a hero. It was ironic that she would become attached to the hero killer. And now that hero killer was putting himself at risk for her safety.  He hadn't noticed that his appearance had escalated the situation between the heroes. Alex was distracted and visibly unhappy that Matthew managed to make his job all the more difficult. He wasn't expecting to get hit with full force. Sending him flying back into a building near Matthew's location. It wasn't personal to be honest. Atomic wanted him out of the way while the supervillain was still in their sight. The others followed after, looking at Alex with apologetic expressions before leaving. The others were caught off guard, Joe went running to help Amazo Guy back up. Alan and Tristan were stunned. Tristan wasn't happy and decided it was time to intervene. This time he was the one getting in the way. With a very angry expression on his face. 

Matthew was momentarily frozen in place as he heard the loud crashing of concrete and gravel from behind him. The force of the crash caused him to let go of the cape over his head, eliminating any cover he had. The remaining civilians who hadn't fled the area screamed in panic and fear over seeing Maddrix. They definitely bolted then. Those who were frozen in fear had to be dragged away by their equally panicked but still mobile friends. Matthew then turned his head back to the four heroes who were coming straight towards him. Matthew didn't recognize them, but their leader had an aura of familiarity about them that he couldn't shake despite never seeing him before. Three of the heroes were looking nervous but otherwise still determined to face off against Maddrix the Malicious. Their leader looked ready to make sure there was nothing left of the old man after he was through with the villain. Matthew groaned in frustration as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew what was coming but now wasn't the time to deal with someone's vendetta against him. "Hey I know you have a personal vengeance against me and want me dead for my actions years ago, but can you hold off on that for a little bit? I really need to take care of something really important here that for once doesn't involve crime or bloodshed." Matthew's plea caused the four heroes to temporarily stop in their pursuit. It was almost comedic to Matthew seeing their confused and bewildered expressions. Just as they were about to recover from their confusion, a very irate Wordman swooped in front of the four heroes. Matthew didn't have to see the expression on Tristan's face. Judging by his crossed arms and how fast he stood between them and himself, it was clearly evident Tristan was very pissed at them for punching Alex into that building. Matthew glanced back over to where Alex had landed. He saw one of his son's friends, Joe along with Alan, rush over to check on him. Slight relief that Alex was in good hands, Matthew proceeded to get out of this situation and focus on getting Becky back home where it is safe. "Hold it right there Maddrix." Wordman commanded. "Or maybe I'm going to get delayed even more." Matthew mumbled angrily. He saw Tristan giving him a side angry glare, clearly upset that the villain was out in the open especially after what was show on the television. "It was foolish and stupid to be out here like this, not go back to where you were right now before more people catch you out in the open." Matthew was about to explain himself before the leader of those other heroes shouted. "ARE YOU CRAZY! YOU ARE LETTING MADDRIX THE MALICIOUS GO! HE'S THE HERO KILLER! HE DESERVES TO PAY FOR ALL OF HIS CRIMES!" The young man shouted venomously as he continued to glare at said man. Matthew took a breath, trying to calm himself before he could speak. He was getting really irritated at being interrupted but it would do him no good to start yelling back at these people who clearly want his head. "Hey!" Matthew exclaimed loudly catching the arguing heroes attention. "Look like I said before, I know you want revenge for what I did. I deserve it. Right now I am in the middle of something very important. The reason I'm out here is because Wordgirl flew off trying to help a civilian or something and the poor girl is not in the right state to be helping anyone after the trauma she went through. So let me or one of you just go get her and bring her back home before she gets herself hurt. Okay." Matthew noted Tristan's panicked expression at hearing his daughter was out and about by herself. The others heroes who weren't in the know were shocked at hearing Maddrix care about another hero's safety but also looked worried at hearing there was something wrong with the young heroine. Their leader though still glared at Matthew. A sneer formed on his lips as he spoke. "Right like you care. You are just trying to fool us so you can kidnap Wordgirl and bring her back to your own monster husband so he can continue to experiment on her." @dualnaturedscientist

[spotsandsocks]

Home Wanted 6K Rating G/T

Written for @ronordmann reverse prompt challenge stage four. Thank you Ro for inspiring me and love love love the cover art,

Milestone prompt and I chose married Buddie getting a pet. Thought it would be a silly fun fic when I started but it turned into something that touches a bit more on Buck’s issues about being Christopher’s dad, where he fits and how Eddie sees all that and finds a way to make it better. As always with me we end up with soft and fluffy family feels by the end.

“Christopher! Come on! Bucks waiting.”

Eddie turns to Buck who's not exactly ready himself, he’s trying to find the right jacket to go with his outfit from the extensive selection in front of him, so he’s talking to the back of his head,  “You’re sure you're ok to do this? I can take him later.” 

Buck finally decides on the right look and slips his chosen jacket on leaning forward as he does to kiss Eddie’s cheek,  “no babe it’s fine, I said I’d take him to get that new book today and it’s on the way so we can do both, save you a trip.” 

“Ok, and you know what you're getting?” Eddie trusts them, he does, but he feels, the need to check anyway, just in case. They do have a history of going off track while on errands.

Buck rolls his eyes affectionately and affects a long suffering tone, “Yes, I’ve been told exactly what we need by both you and Christopher.” Buck’s grin is directed over his shoulder so Eddie knows Chris must have finally turned up, apparently teenagers don’t hurry.

Buck reaches out and grabs Chris’ jacket and hands it over and Eddie takes in the sight of his husband and child. He loves them unconditionally, that goes without saying but he can’t shake the feeling there’s trouble brewing on this trip.

“Ok,well don’t get distracted” he warns, trying to keep the frown off his face. The comment is mostly directed at the older Buckley-Diaz but he includes Chris for good measure, he’s probably the one that’ll be distracting Buck after all.  “I know what you’re both like and… ” Eddie narrows his eyes, first looking at his son then over at Buck but it’s Buck he’s talking to when he says, “don’t let this one con you into getting anything we don’t need.”

“Dad!” Chris protests, the picture of innocence “I wouldn’t do that!” 

“Yeah Eds he wouldn’t do that” Buck winks at Chris and Eddie lifts his eyebrow and hums suspiciously at the pair of them.

Buck chuckles and steps forward and suddenly there a hand sneaking around his waist and he’s pulled in close for another kiss, this time soft and gentle on his lips, and that’s something that would distract him if it wasn’t for Chris’ presence and his suitably grossed out voice in the background. Eddie just knows his face matches his tone.

“Ew, please! Aren’t we meant to be going somewhere?”

Eddie smiles against Buck’s lips, he’ll remember this trick for when he wants to get Chris moving next time.

Buck lets him go and he takes a moment to look into the blue eyes he loves so much, he’s just so ridiculously in love with the man, you’d think a few years together would have reduced the effect of Buck’s face, eyes, smile, kiss but no, he’s still a lost cause, in fact some days he thinks he loves him more than ever. 

Under Eddie’s  gaze, Buck gets a look on his face, soft and warm and he tilts his head, reading his husband’s expression and thoughts perfectly, his eyes crinkle up as he smiles and then Eddie gets another soft little kiss on the tip of his nose and he swears he melts a little and has to fight the urge to sway closer, he’s only a few years off 40 for god's sake not a love sick teenager. 

Buck bites back his grin then mouths “love you too.” Then he turns and looks at Christopher who’s standing there impatiently. Eddie looks too and finds his son looking extremely unimpressed by the sappy behavior of his parents.

“Can we go now?” Christopher says in a delightful display of irony.

“Oh course” Buck replies straight faced, “so sorry to keep you waiting.”

Chris chooses not to reply but his eyebrow twitches in a way Eddie recognises from the mirror.

This time Buck’s wink is for Eddie “See you later sweetheart.”

A few hours later Chris has his book, and a second one and Buck has two new autobiograpies he didn’t know he wanted till he saw them on the shelf. They’ve reached the second stage of their mission; to find a suitable gift for Gabrielle’s rabbit because ‘something fun for Blackberry’ is apparently what Chris’ friend wants for her birthday present.

Entering the pet store that also acts as an animal rescue shelter Buck’s not entirely sure what kind of things you can buy a rabbit. He’s soon filling in this hole in his education as he browses the aisle of rabbit associated accessories he never knew existed when he realises Chris has wandered off. A moment of panic hits him then he spots his curly head over by a sign that says ‘Homes wanted’

He heads over.

“Hey buddy, don’t wander off on me, I was worried.”

Chris half turns “Sorry Buck but look.”

They look together through the glass window at where Chris is pointing. Chris tears his eyes away and looks up and Buck knows he’s in trouble. 

“She’s called Jupiter. Isn’t she cute.” It’s not a question. 

He can see the future flying at him fast, he tries to head it off.

“Sure, she’s she’s real cute Chris but…” 

Chris, a master at his craft interrupts quickly. “She needs a home Buck, it says so.” 

He looks to where Chris points, it’s a small sign next to the enclosure and it does indeed say Home Wanted in large capital letters.

“Chris” he tries to add a warning note to his voice, aiming for something both parental and stern, Eddie’s excellent at this voice, him not so much, his eyes stray back to Jupiter’s twitching nose and whiskers. She is cute. 

Christopher sensing weakness, keeps going.

“The sign says she got hurt, that’s why she has a limp.

Oh no, Buck thinks, she has a limp. He looks again, and yes the little creature does indeed have a slight limp when she moves.

A voice comes from beside him says.

“Dad said I could have a pet.”

He’s already shaking his head but Christopher strides forward with his arguments. 

“The sign says they’ve been here for months, homeless Buck, homeless! Nobody wants her. She's so small and cute. Why wouldn’t anyone want her?”

The last sentence sounds sad and confused. Chris looks at him expecting an answer and Buck wishes very much Eddie was here. He’s not sure he’s up to this double challenge of saying no to the obvious request coming his way or explaining why Jupiter is homeless. He tries anyway.

“Well not everyone can look after pets Chris, even if they want to try.”

“Is it because of her leg?” His eyes go wide “or did her leg get hurt because they didn’t look after her right?”

Chris looks back at Jupiter and reaches out to gently place his fingers against the glass, and as if she can tell she’s got an advocate there’s suddenly little paws and a nose pressed against the glass where Chris’ fingers rest. 

Buck looks at that and his heart sinks. He strongly suspects Jupiter knows what she’s doing. 

“Look! She likes us!” Christopher sounds delighted, he pauses thoughtfully.

“I’d be good at looking after her,” and after that leading statement Chris looks him dead in the eye and waits.

“Chris.” That really doesn’t sound like Eddie being firm, that sounded like a man falling at the first hurdle. 

“Dad said I could have a pet.” Christopher repeats his previous claim.

“I think your dad meant when he was with you.” 

“But you're with me Buck, isn’t that the same thing?” 

For a brief second Buck suspects Chris is playing him but the look on his face is open and genuine, he can tell Chris means that, he really does and Buck’s heart swells. He loves this boy so much, counts his blessings every day that Eddie and Christopher came into his life. That he gets to think of Christopher as his son and that Chris sees him as a parent. That he’s part of Eddie’s family.

And families do have pets. 

And Eddie did say he thought Chris was ready for a pet, he was there for the conversation.

Chris is still looking at him. Waiting, all big hopeful eyes. He feels a little helpless, but he can’t let himself get carried away. He had to be sensible.

Chris is right though, Eddie did say. They made a list and everything. Jupiter scratches at the glass. Shit. He can’t walk away and break two little hearts. 

He gets out his phone and calls his husband, prepared to plead Christopher and Jupiter’s case, maybe he can persuade him, maybe he won’t need persuading. 

He keeps looking at Jupiter as Eddie’s phone rings out.  She may not be quite what Eddie expected from their trip out today.

A second failed attempt to get hold of his husband means he’s on his own. 

Chris is waiting. Jupiter’s waiting. Shit shit shit. 

continue on AO3

[thefanficmonster]

Let Them Talk

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female) ft. Sykkuno

Warnings: Swearing, Jealousy

Genre: Fluff, a bit of Angst

Summary: We can all agree Among Us is a fun game on its own but what makes it ten times better is playing it with the right company. Y/N could agree 100% Being a streamer herself, she loves playing with the streamer gang that includes her boyfriend and best friend. But, what happens when her boyfriend starts doubting her feelings for him due to her close relationship with her best friend.

Requested by @cheetoscat . Thank you so much for your request! Sorry it took so long to write, I hope the final product is worth the wait. Enjoy! Love, Vy ❤

Y/AU/N - Your Among Us Name

I settle in my gaming chair, adjusting my webcam one last time before joining the Among Us lobby with my friends. 

“Hi everyone!“ I say into the mic, a smile plastering itself on my face. Discord is a magical thing, man. It’s so easy to forget that the people you are talking to aren’t around you or within arm’s reach. You could be separated by miles and miles of land or - in our case - oceans as well. Distance becomes negligible when you hear your friends’ voices, their laughter; when you have a good time together despite being each behind a screen, often times alone.

Well, I’m one of those lucky ones that isn’t alone. No one knows that, though. Everyone thinks I’m a single, self-employed girl that’s straight out of college. And they are 90% right. Only thing is - I’m not single. That would be a shocker in and of itself, but revealing who’s changed my relationship status would be a bomb with a whole new intensity.

Speaking of my significant other who shall remain unnamed - just kidding, it’s Corpse - his form materializes in the doorway of my recording room. I give him a hand signal the camera isn’t able to capture, alerting him of the fact that my mic is on. He replies by blowing me a kiss and walking off down the hall to his recording room where he’ll be stationed for the next three or so hours.

I owe this relationship to my best friend Sykkuno. I’m a pretty new and not very well known on the platform, however, thanks to him I haven’t only obtained a boyfriend, but a following of a little over million subscribers as well. 

It all started with an invitation to fill a spot in the Among Us lobby him and his friends had created. It took him quite a bit to convince me to join, but I eventually caved and agreed. Suddenly, there I was. In a Discord call, in an Among Us lobby with some of the most well-known names on this platform. I’m talking YouTube legends. I was that puppy playing with the big dogs. The newbie tagging along with the big leagues. Or at least that’s how I felt until we all started vibing - talking and teasing each other as though we’ve known each other for years and not minutes.

When I joined the call, Corpse wasn’t present. After everyone else introduced themselves, Sykkuno informed me that we were waiting for Corpse to return. The name sounded really cool to me and I was genuinely very excited to meet this Corpse guy.

And then, out of the blue - no prep, no warning...

“Did you get someone to fill the spot? Oh- Hello, Y/AU/N.“ 

…he started talking and he had me star-struck. Apparently, he also had me a blabbering mess cause I remember blurting out: “Whoa, who’s this guy speaking in bold and underlined at the same time?”

The entire lobby, including Corpse, laughed. Sean, or Jack like they called him most often, answered my question, “That is the voice of God, Y/N. Its source is named Corpse, though.”

Heat spread from the bottom of my neck to the tips of my ears. I was mortified by my own stupidity. I was well aware they couldn’t see me and I was incredibly thankful for that, but I simply could not get myself to open my eyes. “I’m so sorry.” I said through nervous laughter.

“No, no, I like that description. Bold and underlined at the same time, huh?“ His voice sounded even more pleasant when it had that teasing, mischievous note to it. That thought popping up in my head only made things worse for my self-esteem and only made me more embarrassed, causing me to hide my face in my hands. “You sure it’s not in Italics as well?“ 

His question got a weak laugh out of me. “Nope, definitely not. Nothing Italic about it.“

Yes, I don’t even know how some terrible jokes about MS Word fonts got me as far as a romantic relationship, but they did! We’ve been living together for quite some time now, dating for even longer - hiding it just as long. It’s not that we have been actively trying to hide it or something, we just wanted to see how long it would take someone to become sus of us. When we realized no one would notice, we decided that if any rumors about us started, or even fans shipping us, we’d come clean. That hasn’t happened either, so we haven’t had the proper chance to address our relationship and neither of us minds.

At this point, I’m honestly afraid of revealing it to the gaming squad. Sykkuno especially. He’s my best friend, after all. I can see him being hurt by the fact that I kept a secret so big even from him. The last thing I wanna do is hurt my best friend but it’s already too late for that, it’s inevitable.

“Y/N have you looked at Twitter today?“ Rae, another streamer I’ve become close with over the months, says urgently.

Overlooking the tension in her words, I answer: “Nope, haven’t had the time. Why? What’s up?“

Before Rae can say anything else, Sykkuno joins the conversation, his voice somehow even more urgent than Rae’s. “It’s nothing, Y/N. If you see it, just don’t let it bother you, ok?”

Hearing such a tone from Rae isn’t unusual, but hearing it from Sykkuno is completely different and a lot more worrisome. “Well if it has the potential of bothering me it can’t be nothing. What’s going on?”

Just then, my phone dings with two notifications. I check to see they are messages from Rae.

“I sent you screenshots. Sorry, Sykkuno. She has to know in order to address it and defuse it as well. I know better than anyone how fast these rumors can spread, especially if no one reacts to them.“ She says, her tone barely apologetic at all.

I open the screenshots she has sent me and I find myself frozen in shock. Some old pictures of Sykkuno and I have been posted on Twitter by some random user. These pictures have started an entire thread of suspicions surrounding our relationship.

The pictures in question are from a New Year’s Eve party a mutual friend of ours held two years ago. Sure, in the pictures we are a lot closer than what would be considered a platonic proximity. And yes one of the pictures is of me kissing his cheek. Yes we were both a bit tipsy. I acknowledge all those things and yet none of them are concrete reasons for these rumors to have started piling. 

“This is silly.“ I finally say after maybe five minutes of silence on my end. ”This is absolutely ridiculous! And why are people so serious about it as well? Actual, important matters get discussed more nonchalantly than the potential relationship between two online personalities! What is this world we live in?“ I know I shouldn’t let these rumors get to me like this, especially not on camera. Still, I can’t help it. I feel it’s so unfair to Corpse. He has to put up with this as well and it’s by no means easy for him. I’ve been shipped with people from our group in the past and he always took those rumors to heart despite acting like he didn’t care. Neither of us should get worked up, but him getting upset about them creates a domino effect with my emotions - causing me to be hit just as hard as him, in some cases harder.

Rumors of the past aside, this one is the worst by far. Mostly cause even Corpse himself suspected something between Sykkuno and I at the very beginning, when we were still acquaintances, barely crossing into the realm of friends.

I pull up Twitter to look for the whole thread, barely sparing my stream chat a glance in the process. It seems pretty split - those who agree with me and those who think Sykkuno and I make ‘such an adorable couple’. The thread is ridiculously long, and if we take into account that it was only started approximately five hours ago, you can either view it as impressive, amusing or sad. Why sad? Because someone has dedicated so much time and effort into fueling the fire of a weakly supported theory.

I love Sykkuno with all my heart. Everyone knows that - fandom, streamer squad, Corpse and Sykkuno included. I love too much and too platonically to ever even dream of having a romantic connection with him. I thought that was more than obvious, but people are either blind here, or just grasping at straws. One thing’s for certain - they’re stepping on a nerve.

“Hey where’s Corpse? Did he disconnect?” Felix asks, gaining my full attention. My eyes dart to the monitor, searching through the little avatars in a desperate search for the one of my boyfriend. It’s nowhere to be found.

“He just messaged me saying his connection is unstable but he might join us later.“ Rae says, “You guys can invite someone to fill...“

“Bathroom break.“ I interrupt, not waiting for a response before shutting my mic off, putting the ‘BRB‘ graphic on my stream and yanking the headset off. I basically run down the hall to Corpse’s recording room, my heart pounding like a bass drum.

“Corpse?!“ I call out to him, one hand already on the doorknob. When five seconds pass by without a response, I barge in. 

Inside, I find his usual spot on the gaming chair empty and his slumped figure seated on his bed.

“Corpse?“ I try again, watching for even the tiniest change of body language. He remains still as a statue, not bothering to look up at me either. 

His hands are gripping the edge of the mattress, his head hanging low. His eyes are covered by the short curtain of his dark messy curls. I can’t gauge much. Is he angry? Is he sad? Both? How should I approach the situation?

Before I find the answer to any of those questions, I am kneeling in front of him, our height difference eliminated. I gently pry his hands off the mattress and take them in mine, holding them firmly but tenderly. With one hand I reach up to tilt his head so his eyes can meet mine. He complies, his tear-filled brown orbs meeting mine. Those tears have the same effect on me as fifty sharp knives stabbing into my chest. These tears focus their attack straight on my heart, tearing it to pieces.

“Baby....“

He cuts me off, “Why is it always someone else, huh? Do they deem me not worthy of being with you? Do they think you deserve better?” His voice wavers, “Well, they might be right. They are correct and there’s little I can do to prove them wrong. They mean you well, Y/N - pairing you with guys better than me. Those are some loyal fans you’ve got. They only want what’s best for you. And so do I. If ‘best’ is being with someone else then...”

It’s my turn to cut him off. I put an end to his nonsense ramble that’s slowly killing me by pressing my finger against his lips. The sternness of my gaze is beyond me as I get up and walk over to his computer setup. I put on his headset and hop into the call as well as the lobby with his avatar.

“Hey Corpse’s back!” Toast says, “Good to have you back buddy.”

“No, not Corpse.” I say in a casual, nonchalant voice.

“Wait, wha-“ Sean’s voice shows just how confused he is, representing the confusion of the entire lobby actually.

“I know all of you are streaming so this message will be heard by several different audiences so I’m gonna make myself perfectly clear.“ I take a deep breath, “Sykkuno and I aren’t dating. He’s a lovely guy and he deserves to find a girl who will treat him right. That girl isn’t and won’t be me though. I am already treating someone right. Someone who treats me more than right as well. An amazing person. A man-child with a heart of gold. You know him, to a certain extent. He goes by the name of Corpse Husband, but I prefer to call him ‘Love of my life’. Thank you for your time and attention, goodbye.“

I exit the call and turn around to find a stunned Copse looking at me.

“That was meant for you just as much.“ I say with a fake strict attitude, one hand on my hip the other rested on his desk behind me, “Were you listening?“

Within milliseconds, he’s on his feet standing directly in front of me, his lips inches away from mine. “I heard and memorized every word. But...” he pauses for a moment, “I think you have no idea how big of a chaos you just created.”

I smile mischievously, “We’ll worry about that later. For now...” I close the gap between us, connecting our lips in a sweet and passionate kiss. 

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams  @the-fuck-up-of-today  @slashersdream  @chiefwombathoagiepizza  @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01

[lostinthewiind]

Forget Me Not: Part 1

Ushijima Wakatoshi, Sawamura Daichi, Bokuto Kōtarō, Oikawa Tōru, Kuroo Tetsurō - Haikyuu

Synopsis: five years after graduating high school, you're invited to Kiyoko and Tanaka's wedding and find yourself back in Japan. Surrounded by your old classmates and volleyball buddies once again, not only are old friendships rekindled, but old feelings start to resurface as well. Did five years change you and your friends too much, or did it change you all just enough?

Rating: PG13

Warnings: none

Next → Part 2

Being back in Japan filled you with a familiar, comforting feeling that spread throughout your entire body. The country where you had lived most of your life and been educated from kindergarten to high school in brought back childhood memories that you had not thought about in nearly five years.

And now, here you were, attending the wedding of one of your best friends, whom you hadn't seen in way too long, and surrounded by people who shaped your elementary and teenage years.

It wasn't until the reception that you got to actually catch up with your childhood friends, but the ceremony had certainly gotten you thinking. With the beautiful decorations strewn all over the venue and Kiyoko's breathtaking dress—and the way Tanaka teared up after seeing his future wife coming down the aisle—you had begun to wonder, as one who is still single would, if that would ever be you; all dressed to the nines and ready to devote the rest of your life to one person.

The fact that you were deep in thought must have been visible on your face because it wasn't long after that Kiyoko made her way over, gently placing her hand on your shoulder and asking if you were all right.

Startled out of your internal dilemma, you assured her that you were fine and just caught up with your own thoughts. "Sorry," you apologized with a lighthearted chuckle. "I didn't mean to make you worry about me at your wedding."

Taking a seat beside you at the rather empty guest table—more than happy to get off of her feet after Tanaka had been swinging her around the dance floor for hours—Kiyoko sighed contently and brushed off your concern. "Oh, please, make up something if you must." Kiyoko glanced over her shoulder at her new husband, who was currently preoccupied with something Noya was saying to him. "I need a break. If this is any indication of what the rest of my life is going to be like, I'm going to be eternally exhausted."

You laughed, having completely forgotten about what you had been thinking about. "You chose to marry the boy who spent all three years of high school chasing after you and you're surprised that he's over the moon 24/7?" You cocked a brow at her jokingly. "Don't say you weren't warned."

Kiyoko giggled at that and before long you and your best friend were laughing together just like when you were teenagers. It was like nothing had changed; like the two of you had been transported back in time five years.

"In all seriousness though, are you happy?" you asked her as you grabbed for your champagne flute and took a sip. "Because that's all that matters."

A light dusting of pink rose to Kiyoko's cheeks. "I'm ecstatic." She beamed as she looked back at Tanaka again. "I mean . . . that's my husband!"

"Good. I'm happy that you're happy."

Kiyoko nodded in agreement before turning back to you. "So, when is it going to be your turn?"

You thought about asking her what she could possibly be talking about but there was no fooling Kiyoko; she already knew that you knew. Not a week had gone by since you had moved away where she hadn't asked you if you had found yourself a man yet.

You just rolled your eyes. "I would have to be dating someone first in order to start thinking about getting married."

"Okay, so we start at the beginning." Kiyoko started surveying the gorgeous outdoor reception venue as if you didn't already know pretty much everyone who was there.

You scoffed. "I'm sorry, we?"

"You act like I haven't always been invested in your love life." She waved you off, never taking her eyes off of the bustling crowd. "Anyway, back to what I was saying . . . you need someone with a stable career, handsome, and, most importantly, someone that I approve of."

"Yes . . . most importantly." You took another sip of your drink and let your eyes scan the crowd as well, mostly because there wasn't much else for you to do. Eventually, your gaze settled on a table in the back corner where five men sat, engaged in a conversation with one another. It took you a few minutes to make out the face in the dim lighting, but when you did, you were immediately hit with a wave of nostalgia.

There, in a convenient group, as if they had all collectively been waiting for you to spot them, were five of your dearest friends from high school: the captains from the various boys' volleyball teams. Since you had been the captain for the girls' team at one of the rival schools, the six of you had started as acquaintances who bonded over being captains and soon grew into an inseparable friend group. The only person you had been closer to in high school was Kiyoko.

Sawamura Daichi, Ushijima Wakatoshi, Bokuto Kōtarō, Oikawa Tōru, and Kuroo Tetsurō.

They all looked just like how you remembered and yet you couldn't help but notice from afar the ways that they had matured over the past five years. You had been given a brief chance during the ceremony to say hello to them, and during that brief moment, you weren't ashamed to say you would admit they had all grown into handsome young men (not that any of them had been hard on the eyes in high school by any means.)

"Oh, so we're going for the classic 'high school reunion' trope." Kiyoko's face was suddenly right next to yours, startling you once again. "Which one are you looking at?"

Ripping your eyes away from the group of men who had thankfully not noticed your staring, you shook your head. "It's not like that," you sighed.

"Oh, yeah . . . okay." Kiyoko's tone was dripping with sarcasm. "That's fine, you don't have to choose right now. You could probably have whichever one of them you wanted anyway considering they all had a crush on you in high school."

It had been a big mistake to try and take your final gulp of champagne right then. As soon as you had heard what Kiyoko had said, you jolted in surprise and the alcohol went down the wrong way, causing you to begin coughing and sputtering rather loudly and aggressively.

Of course, that was when the five former captains turned to look at you after hearing the commotion. To be fair, a lot of eyes were on you then as you frantically reached for a napkin to dry the champagne that had spurted out of your mouth and Kiyoko patted your back comfortingly.

"Jesus," you managed to choke out. "Warn someone before you say something like that."

Kiyoko grabbed another napkin and began dabbing at the little wet spot on your dress. "You act like you didn't already know."

"I didn't already know."

Kiyoko looked up at you in shock, her hand ceasing all movement. Thankfully, she had pretty much dried your dress completely by then anyway. "What do you mean you didn't know?" she inquired quizzically, almost like she suspected you of lying.

"What do you mean they all had a crush on me?!" You remembered to lower your voice at the last second to avoid screaming such a personal conversation.

"How could you not have known?!" Kiyoko retorted with another question. "It was so obvious!"

"We were all just friends!"

"Just friends?!" A deep voice from behind you interrupted before you or Kiyoko could say another word. "You aren't talking about us, are you?"

You could pick that voice out of a lineup and consequently, your face turned bright red and you swallowed hard. Had he heard what you and Kiyoko had been talking about? How long had he been standing there?

Turning in your chair, you looked up at Kuroo, who was standing behind your chair, and the four other guys standing behind him; all of whom had apparently made their way over after witnessing your struggle with the champagne.

Before you had the chance to work out a suitable answer and attempt to explain away what you and Kiyoko had been discussing, Kiyoko stood from her chair and offered it to Kuroo, motioning for the group to sit down with you at the same time.

"Well, I'll leave you guys so you can all catch up." She smiled wide, throwing you a quick wink when no one else was looking. "I'm sure Tanaka will start searching for me soon anyway. I can only leave his side for so long before he starts causing chaos."

"Looks like the chaos has already started." Oikawa pointed to the head table where Tanaka was pouring liquor straight down Hinata's throat while Noya and Tendou counted the seconds out loud at the top of their lungs.

"Oh, good God." Kiyoko excused herself without another word, rushing across the room to put an end to her husband's antics. The six of you were left chuckling and watching as she snatched the bottle out of his hand and made quick work of reprimanding the men.

Shaking his head, Daichi sat down across from you while the other men took their seats as well. Having been the team captain of Karasuno and on a volleyball team with Tanaka for two years, he knew all too well what it was like to have to keep him in check constantly. "I will never understand how he suckered her into marrying him," he commented.

"Because love." You shrugged. "It makes you do stupid things."

Just then, a waiter came by and placed a fresh glass of champagne in front of each of you. "Ain't that the truth." Kuroo rose his glass and encouraged everyone else to do the same. "To love and other stupid things."

"To love and other stupid things," the remaining five of you repeated before clinking your glasses together and taking a sip of the bubbly alcohol.

Bokuto, who already seemed a little too tipsy for his own good, downed all of his in one go before scooting his chair closer to yours and throwing an arm over your shoulders. "So, tell us, what have you been up to?!" he chirped happily. "We all missed you when you left, you know."

After assuring Bokuto about four or five times that you had missed him as well, you gave the group of eager listeners the short version of what you had been up to since graduation. You explained your boring job and the fact that you played volleyball as often as you could. They asked about other aspects of your life as well, and when the topic of significant others came up, you shyly admitted that you were, indeed, still single.

"Hey, it's not like any of us can judge you for that," Ushijima told you. "None of us have anyone in our lives either."

Oikawa scoffed. "You make it sound like I'm hopeless."

"You are hopeless," Kuroo laughed. "You spent how many years in Brazil and still couldn't find a girl to date you? You moved to Argentina and still nothing. Doesn't that say anything?"

"Leave it to Oikawa to make it all about him," you commented, mindlessly taunting the setter like you used to do all the time when you were younger.

Your jab earned a few amused chuckles from the others and even Oikawa cracked a smile; and just like that, it was like you were back in high school with five of your closest friends, shooting the shit like you always did.

Before you knew it, the six of you were talking, laughing, and drinking the night away. Even Ushijima, who was usually the quiet one of the group, was participating more than you ever remember him doing so. The awkwardness from the first few minutes of interaction and the burning embarrassment of what Kiyoko had told you had melted away so seamlessly that you didn't even notice; suddenly you just found yourself comfortable and feeling rather at home.

Daichi told you about how his job as a cop was going and even shared a few exciting stories—stories that the others had clearly heard many times before if their bored expressions were any indication.

Kuroo talked about his job at the Japan Volleyball Association Sports Promotion Division, which he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying. You were kind of envious of him for managing to stay in the world of volleyball without actually having to keep playing.

Then, of course, Bokuto, Ushijima, and Oikawa discussed what it was like playing for the MSBY Jackals, the Schweiden Alders, and Club Atlético San Juan in Argentina, respectively. Oikawa, much like Daichi had been, was very excited to have someone new to tell his stories to—although his stories were about Argentina and not being a cop.

It made you feel a little sad when you realized just how distant you had grown from your friends and how much of their lives you had missed, but you had to admit that getting to play catch up was extremely entertaining.

After what felt like only twenty minutes or so, but was probably closer to two hours, the reception started winding down and guests started heading home for the night.

Pulled from the happy little bubble the six of you were existing in by the sudden realization that the party had a lot fewer people than you remember, you checked the time and noted that it was rather late.

Daichi, who had been oblivious to the rapidly passing time as well, muttered something about having to work the next day as he reached for his suit jacket that he had draped over the back of his chair at some point and started putting it back on, indicating that he was getting ready to leave.

Bokuto began to pout jokingly and tightened his hold on you, his arm never having left your shoulders the entire time. "You're not going home right away, are you?" he asked you, his wide eyes ready to guilt-trip you into staying longer should he need to. "You're staying in Japan for a while, right?"

"I'll be here for about two weeks or so," you told him, patting his cheek lightly and chuckling when his expression changed on a dime and he smiled wide. "Don't worry, I'm not abandoning you again so soon."

"Then we will have to get together for dinner or drinks or something," Kuroo suggested as he too stood from his seat. "Have you changed your number since high school?"

You shook her head. "Nope, it should be the same one you all have."

"Excellent!" Oikawa cheered. "I've got to head back to Argentina in a week or so as well so we definitely have to get together soon. I have first dibs!"

"Y/N is a person, not the last piece of food," Ushijima huffed. "You can't call dibs."

Oikawa just scoffed. "Sure I can, Toshi. I just did."

"I told you not to call me that."

The two professional volleyball players glared at one another and you wondered how it was possible that they stayed friends for so long, let alone became friends in the first place, considering they were always at each other's throats.

"Okay, you two, don't make me escort one or both of you home in a cop car tonight," Daichi warned. "I'm not in the mood to babysit."

"If I promise to behave, will you promise to use your handcuffs?" Oikawa winked, earning a few hushed chuckles and an obviously disappointed look from Daichi.

"Well, that's my cue to call it a night," Daichi announced as he made his way over to you and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. "It was lovely seeing you again. I'll call you and we can do dinner sometime, yeah?"

You smiled and nodded. "I'd love to."

With that, Daichi took his leave and the others were soon to follow. Bokuto, who was the last to leave your side, had somehow swindled you into promising to play a volleyball game with him at some point before he bid you goodnight as well and left you to collect your thoughts before catching a cab and heading back to your hotel room.

On your way out, you thanked Kiyoko for inviting you and congratulated her and Tanaka on their marriage. They too insisted on getting together with you once more before you left and you happily agreed, already dreading having to leave your friends again.

As you climbed into your cab that evening, drunker than you had been in a long while and filled to the brim with joyous memories and content feelings after being reunited with so many old friends, you couldn't help but linger on one thought in particular . . .

The fact that all of your former captain friends had grown into handsome men with stable jobs, they were all single, and the startling new discovery that they apparently all had crushes on you in high school.

Did they still feel the same way? Or, more importantly, did you feel the same way?

[bonnyskies]

deadly agenda ⇢ myg

min yoongi is a dangerous man. you’re a manipulative wife. together, you two are a deadly duo, and you both have your own agenda.

pairing — emperor!yoongi x wife!malereader ft. king-husband!taehyung

genres — angst, sexual themes, royalty!au, strangers-to-lovers!au

warnings — age-gap (reader is 20, yoongi is 28), swearing, degrading terms, mentions of death, feminization, descriptions of murder, sexual themes, infidelity, betrayal, slight voyeurism, yoongi is intimidating and reader is manipulative, basically they’re just plain evil

author’s note — i hate tumblr’s new update. i had more to write (not enough for a part two) but couldn’t because of the new 250 text box rule. but as for this story, this is probably the longest one i’ve written so far and the one i’m most proud of. anyway, hope you all enjoy and sorry for taking so long to upload this, took lots of planning and rewriting, plus i’ve been busy with school too.

word count — 7.4k

masterlist

Min Yoongi is a cautious, yet observant man.

Whoever steps foot in his palace, he makes sure to know everything about them. Who they are, they’re background, appearance, and how they approach him. Each and every thing can help him learn who he can trust, and who he cannot, who are his allies—and who are his enemies.

Yoongi stood by his palace’s entrance, accompanied with his guards and greeted his special guests, one by one as they walked up his home’s grand steps. He makes sure to take notes on each and every person’s facial expression, their appearance, chosen attire, and the certain way they walk up to him.

Anything could benefit him into knowing them. Their wealth and clan can be identified based on their specific appearance and choice of clothing. Their facial expressions help him learn what their true feelings and intentions are towards him that are hidden by their fake smiles and words. And lastly, the way they walk up to him can help him know the type of personality they have, whether that be obedient and innocent, or arrogant and untrustworthy.

The way he learns about his guests have never failed him. That was, until he met you.

Yoongi would be lying if he said he wasn’t astonished when his eyes laid on you for the first time. There were many things that left him utterly speechless when meeting you. For one, when his advisor told him that his guest would be bringing his wife, he was expecting a woman—not a man.

Another thing that left Yoongi speechless was your appearance, mostly your attire. You were dressed in feminine-like clothing, silk robes that were decorated with gold jewelry instead of fine material clothing with armor plating like what many men of royalty wear. And you also didn’t hold a blade like most men do too. Instead, you held a simple wooden decorative fan.

And lastly, your eyes.

Yoongi has a remarkable judge of character. Maybe not as good when it came to you, but still adequate. On the outside, your eyes were shining with gentleness and a kind greeting. But he could tell there was something else hidden behind them—something that left him intrigued by you.

You had an agenda—plans, and Yoongi was determined to find out what they are.

The welcoming feast was extremely dull.

Yoongi absorbed gallons of wine into his system, hoping that would help numb his mind and get through the rest of the evening without having to tear somebody’s head off from their body.

And apparently you thought the same as he did. Across the table, Yoongi watched as you fanned yourself out of boredom while everyone else were socializing with one another, an unamused facial expression shown on your face. Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle behind his glass when seeing one of the other wives say something to you and you flashed her a quick smile before dropping it back down into a straight line.

It seems his attention on you didn’t go unnotice because next thing he knew, your eyes were now on him. Yoongi was expecting hints of disgust or uncomfort from you, but instead he was met with sly smirk and a raised brow.

Yoongi watches intently as you leaned over and whispered into your husband’s ear. Your husband—Kim Taehyung then stood up from his seat and bowed his head, “Excuse me, your Majesty.”

Yoongi turned his head towards your husband, diverting his attention completely away from you.

“My wife is not feeling well at the moment, so with your permission, would it be alright if he can take his leave from the feast early?”

The entire dining hall fell silent, shocked expressions plastered on everyone’s faces at the table.

Nobody has ever dared to leave one of Min Yoongi’s feasts before. Who would want to, right? It’s considered a great honor for one self and their kingdom to be invited by the Emperor himself to attend one of his events.

Whispers began to spread amongst the guests.

“How shameless is Kim Taehyung’s wife?”

“Wanting to leave the Emperor’s feast early? Utterly shameless I tell you.”

“That Taehyung needs to discipline his wife.”

“Doesn’t he know how important his Majesty’s events are? And he wants to leave just because he isn’t feeling well? Unbelievable.”

“He needs to learn some manners—”

Anxiety swept across Taehyung’s face when hearing the gossips coming from the other royals, eyes wide and mouth gaped open with panic. “Forgive me, your Majesty, I never intended to—”

With just the clear of his throat, everybody fell silent once again and all eyes were now on him. Yoongi’s gaze would shift between you and your husband, curiosity filling his veins when noticing that there wasn’t any signs of illness presently visible on you. You weren’t trembling, your eyes weren’t red and skin wasn’t showing any signs of flushness. You looked fine.

That only caused more questions to form in Yoongi’s mind. Like, what do you exactly want, and what is your reason for being here? Because according to his advisor, you weren’t even part of the guest list until today. That only raised even more suspicions he had towards you.

And it’s not like he can just throw you out—actually, he can. It’s just that he doesn’t want to because now he’s curious, and he wants to see how things turn out.

“He can go,” Yoongi says a brief silence, immediately noticing the small smile creeping onto your lips. “But take him to see the physician and let him check him out,” and then it dropped.

“N-No, your Majesty,” you spoke up, lips parted. “You don’t have to do that—”

“You’re feeling unwell, right?” Yoongi then asks, smirking at the silence he got in reply. “Well, you should let my physician diagnose you then. Don’t worry though, you’re in great hands.”

One of his guards that stood by his side approached you and started to guide you to the physician’s office. And while you were leaving, Yoongi could see the glare coming from you and aimed right at him.

If you wanted to play games with him, he’ll play.

Wandering through the palace halls at night was something Yoongi usually does whenever he can’t sleep.

And apparently you had the same tendency too.

While mindlessly strolling through his palace’s hallways, Yoongi’s eyes suddenly landed on your approaching figure, the first thing catching his attention was your choice of clothing. You were dressed in golden inner robes, your sleep-wear, and the material was so thin and transparent that every feature about you was visible to him. The sight of your clear, smooth skin and every curve of your body and muscles made his mouth water. It was like you were purposely dressed like that to seduce him.

Another thing that caught his eye was the small, slightly torn grayish book that was in your grasp, which was where your complete attention was on because you still haven’t noticed his presence despite the two of you walking towards the other.

“Hello, your Highness,” you jumped out of fear, eyes wide and closing your book when your gaze landed on him. “May I ask why you are wandering around my palace this late at night?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you simply answered, fingers tight around the cover the book, which only made Yoongi even more curious as to what you were exactly reading. “And it seems you are having the same problem as well, am I correct?”

Yoongi only hummed in reply, taking another small step towards you until you two now stood only inchest apart, him towering over you and staring down right at you. “Is there something wrong with your chambers? I can tell my servants to move you and your husband into a more comfortable place for you—”

“No no, your Majesty,” you were quick to interject. “Everything is perfect. It’s just that I’ve always had trouble sleeping at another royal’s residence, that’s all.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but find your reason funny, because he has always had trouble sleeping when there were other people staying in his palace.

A brief silence came between you two before Yoongi spoke up once again, “I’ll be taking a quick walk around my garden, you can accompany me if you like.” He didn’t wait for your reply before leaving, but when hearing the sound of your footsteps behind him right after, a smirk grew on his lips.

“You know, you never really introduced yourself when we first met,” Yoongi then brought up while the two of you made your way to the gardens.

“Forgive me, your Majesty,” you bowed your head apologetically before replying, “My name is ___, Kim ___.”

“It’s a great pleasure to meet you, Kim ___,” Yoongi reached down and took your hand into his, pressing a soft, yet tender kiss on the back of your palm, smirking at the evident blush forming on your cheeks. “And I’ve got to say, you are looking quite well for someone that claimed to be feeling sick not even three hours ago,” and that is when your smile dropped.

“Must’ve been my anxiety,” you were quick to reply back, your eyes never leaving his. “After all, I am staying at the Emperor’s palace for the first time.”

Yoongi was impressed honestly, he had to admit. For everything he had to say against you, you had something say right back at him. There isn’t a lot of people who have that type of skill to think of words—believeable words right on the spot. Anybody would believe what you were saying—too bad he isn’t just anybody.

“Must be...,” Yoongi just says, eyeing you slightly. His gaze then shifted onto the book in your hand. “What are you reading there?”

“Oh this,” you held the book up, “It’s called Flowers of the Region—a guide to every type of flower that is grown and can be found in both the South and the North. It’s my favorite book.”

“Well, that’s fortunate,” Yoongi points out, “you like flowers, and we so happen to be going to my garden. What’s your favorite flower?”

“Lily of the Valley,” you answer with a smile. “Have you heard of it?”

“I have,” Yoongi replied, his interest towards you growing even more. Lily of the Valley, despite the beautiful features of the white flower, it is proven to be quite deadly when digested. “They are only found on top of the Southern mountains—but lucky for you, I happen to grow them right here in my garden.”

Your smile grew even wider. “That’s great.”

The rest of the walk to the gardens was in silence with you trailing forward while Yoongi stood back. And with your eyes focused on the path in front of you, Yoongi couldn’t help but send glances at you every once in a while, his eyes burning into your back, admiring at the clear view your smooth skin through the thin, transparent material of your inner robes.

He surely needs to give whoever crafted your sleepwear a raise—and a big one too.

When the two of you finally got to the gardens, you were left instantly speechless at the sight of the many plots of different flowers, ranging from beautiful, vibrant ones that were quite common to dark, mysterious ones that you’ve never even seen before.

Yoongi couldn’t deny how adorable you looked though when seeing his garden for the first time, eyes wide, shining with admiration and your mouth gaped open.

“This is beautiful,” you gasped, leaning down and running your fingers delicately over some flowers.

“Thank you,” Yoongi stood beside you, “I make sure my gardeners take good care of this place.”

Silenced filled the atmosphere as Yoongi stood back and silently watched you admiring the many flowers. Normally he’d be annoyed for someone touching his property, but for some odd reason when it came to you he didn’t mind so much. Perhaps it’s because this might be the only way for him to get close to you and learn about your true intentions—or maybe he just really wants to fuck you.

Yoongi found himself once again staring at you, watching as you bent over to get a closer look at one of the flowers, giving him a perfect view of your ass and hips, both in which he wants to grab and caress with his large hands.

“So,” Yoongi spoke up after some silence, “how exactly did you become the new Lady Kim?”

Yoongi instantly noticed the way your body tensed from his question. “I was his Highness’s personal servant. When his wife suddenly passed away, he was a complete mess and I was the only one that stayed by his side through the entire mourning process. I was the one that comforted him whenever he was feeling down, I made sure he was taking care of himself and helped him with his royal duties.”

Yoongi then noticed your shoulder slumping. “After about a month or so, he started seeking me for a...different kind of comfort.” Sex. “Soon later he decided to make his new wife—the new Lady Kim.”

“You don’t seem so happy about the change in position,” Yoongi commented, “I’m sure this is much better than being a simple servant. You’re a royal now.”

“Oh, I am,” you quickly corrected him, “But being a man and having a feminine title can sometimes make things complicated.”

“Well then, don’t make them complicated.” Yoongi suggested, “You’re not a servant anymore, you’re a royal. They may not respect you now, but you have the power to make them do so.”

“Don’t worry, I know,” you told him sternly. “They’ll learn to respect me. Whether that be the hard way or the easy way—it’s their choice. So you better watch out, your Majesty, or something bad might happen to you,” you laughed softly.

Yoongi released a forceful chuckle, eyes briefly squinting at you suspiciously. It may have sound like a harmless joke, but to him, he could hear the small hints of truth behind them. “Oh trust me, I will. I wouldn’t want you as an enemy.”

“And you as well,” you replied, eyeing him back.

Silence came between you two again, Yoongi leaving you to inspect his garden in peace while he stood back and watched you. It wasn’t until an hour has passed you spoke up again, yawning, “we should head back to bed, your Majesty. We have that conference in the morning with the other royals and we need the energy.”

“You’re right,” Yoongi agreed, nodding and stepping aside so that you could walk ahead of him and back inside the place with him following right beside you. “Let me walk you back to your room.”

You didn’t say anything, only held your head low to hide the small grin on your face as the both of you made your back to the chambers. And as you two got closer to your destination, you both were froze at the sound of moaning.

Yoongi was confused at first as who it could be, but when turning to you and seeing the hardened expression on your face, he knew.

“O-Oh, Taehyung—f-faster, please!”

Yoongi was speechless. He knew many royals took on concubines while being married, but he didn’t know someone could so shameless as to bringing them to another person’s residence alongside their spouse. “Your Highness—”

“Don’t bother, your Majesty,” you spoke calmly, eyes hard and emotionless. “I’m use to it by now and it doesn’t really bother me anymore.”

“Really, it doesn’t?”

You shook your head. “At first it did, but after sleeping with my husband so many times I have learned that the only person he cares to satisfy is himself.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle. What kind of husband doesn’t have the desire to satisfy is own wife? Maybe he should take you to his chambers and show you exactly what you’re missing. “Well, I-I’m still sorry for you.”

You simply shrugged your shoulders, “it doesn’t matter, your Majesty. Have a good night.”

Yoongi watched as you then opened the door went inside the chamber, causing your husband and the woman to stop and look at you with wide eyes.

“Don’t mind me,” you said to them, not even bothering to glance at them, shocking Yoongi. “I’ll be on the balcony reading my book. Just let me when you two are done.”

Taehyung’s attention instantly went back to the woman that was straddling his lap when hearing your words, hands kneading her breasts and hips and started thrusting back up into her, causing moans to erupt from both of them. Yoongi didn’t why, but the sight of them made his blood boil.

Maybe he should go in there and fuck you in front of your husband? That’ll show him what he is missing out.

Yoongi continued to watch through the crack in the door as you walked past the couple and went onto the balcony. And once you were out of his sight, that’s when he finally got a clear view of the woman on your husband’s lap, and he instantly recognized her. She was one of the servants that accompanied you and Taehyung here. Yoongi distinctly remembered seeing her earlier today, serving you tea after you got back from seeing the physician.

Yoongi glared at the couple, scoffing at the sight. What did that Kim Taehyung see in that whore of a servant that you don’t have?

You are far more enticing than she is.

Taking one last glance at the shameless couple, Yoongi retreated back to his chambers. And while he did so, his mind suddenly went back to you. How did someone so...unique end up with a man like Kim Taehyung? He’s a weak person, a shame to royal blood. You deserve to be with someone with real power, someone who would never leave you unsatisfied, both physically and emotionally. Someone like me.

Yoongi could feel himself harden just from the thought of you.

Damn you for having this type of power over me, his mind cursed. Yoongi has slept with countless of other royals before, both men and women, and he has never encountered someone like you.

You are truly something else.

“Damn,” Yoongi mumbled out to nobody in particular, palming himself through his robes. “How the hell am I going to get rid of this?”

And right on queue, a young servant boy just happened to be walking right by Yoongi when the question ran through his head.

“Stop,” was all he said, making the servant boy freeze in his place.

“Y-Yes, your Majesty?”

Yoongi took slow, intimidating steps towards him until he was towering over him, using his hands to cup his chin and forcing the servant boy to meet his eyes. “How would you feel having the honor of spending the night with your Emperor?”

The servant boy couldn’t stop the small smile from forcing on his face. “I-I would love that, your Majesty.”

That was Yoongi needed to hear before leaning down capturing the servant’s boys lips with his, hands moving to his thighs and hoisting him up in his arms and carrying him into his chambers, lips never separating.

“You’re a eager one, are you?” Yoongi chuckled against the servant boy’s mouth, moving his lips down his neck and forcing a whimpering moan from him.

“I-It’s my duty to serve y-you, your Majesty.”

That brought a smile on Yoongi’s lips.

Yoongi couldn’t find you anywhere the next day.

He couldn’t find at you breakfast, he couldn’t find you during the conference with the other royals and their wives, and he couldn’t find you at lunch. Now as dinner was approaching, there still wasn’t any sign of you anywhere.

But he had no problem finding your husband. Wherever he saw Taehyung, he saw that whore of a servant trailing behind him like a pet—but you no where to be seen.

Yoongi thought about approaching him to ask about your whereabouts, but he couldn’t help but think of the consequences that would happen afterwards. But that still didn’t stop him from sending glares at the younger royal and the servant every now and then, which didn’t go unnotice by either of them.

“Is there something wrong, your Majesty,” Taehyung finally asks, breaking the tensed silence between the two of them. “You’ve been staring at me all day today and haven’t said a single word.”

“Oh nothing,” Yoongi simply replies, eyes still trained on him while twirling his glass of wine. “Just wondering where your wife is at right now, since everyone else is here. Is he still not feeling well from last night?”

For a very very brief moment, Yoongi could see panic glinting in his eyes before answering, “o-oh yes, your Majesty, he told me that he’s still feeling unwell so I allowed him stay back in the room.”

Liar, was Yoongi’s first thought, eyes glaring even more at the long, black-haired royal.

Everyone at the table could feel the tension between their Emperor and the young royal, and still no one chose to speak up about it.

Yoongi had a reputation. He is the first ever Emperor to achieve the throne through combat rather than family bloodline—and he is also the youngest ruler to ever be placed higher than a simple king. But that weren’t the only things he was known for. He was also generally known for being intelligent and quite reserved, and cruel if absolutely necessary, and also able to hold a grudge. It may sound simple, but everybody knew that if their Emperor had something against you, your days were limited.

So that’s why nobody chose to speak up when seeing the menancing glares their Emperor were sending at the youngest and only surviving Kim. Because they knew if they intervened, they’d only anger him and get on his list, and that’s the exact opposite of what they want to do.

“Your Majesty,” his advisor suddenly whispered right beside him. “I think it would be a good idea to continue the meeting. Some of your guests has some things to say about the...improvements you’re doing to the North.”

Yoongi clenched his jaw, eyes scanning over Taehyung once more before turning his attention to the other royals. “Sure,” he then says, “which one of you want to speak first?”

Not even a second later, Park Jimin, ruler of the Park Kingdom stood up from his seat and spoke. “Your Majesty, my council and I believe that the border that you have placed around my region is completely unnecessary.”

“How so?” Yoongi asks, leaning back against his chair with an amused look on his face. He had to admit that he was impressed that the blonde man was the first to speak up. He may not be the youngest royal out of everyone, but he certainly is the one with the least experience when it came politics.

“For starters your border cuts right through my kingdom’s river, slicing our water supply in half,” he starts, voice slightly raising. “And the amount of wood you required for the construction of the wall resulted in about ninety percent of the forests in my region to be completely cut down, forcing most of my workers into unemployment.”

Yoongi continued to listen closely with his hands laced together and resting on top of his chest, rocking back and forth in his chair with an intent glint in his eyes.

“I also find it completely unfair how your border only crosses over my kingdom but no one else’s.” Jimin continued to rant, jamming his finger repeatedly angerly against the table while keeping his eye contact with him. “I think it’s not for protection like you have claimed many of times, but as a prison, to keep my people in check. You’re nothing but a—”

Yoongi slammed his hand heavily onto the table, instantly silencing the young royal and causing everyone to gulp nervously. He may at times find it amusing when someone fights back, but he will never allow anyone to talk down against him, not in his own residence.

“You think I built that wall as a prison?” Yoongi asks, chuckling when the blonde man didn’t reply. “Are you forgetting what happened before I built that wall? Spies from the South would come right into our territories and would gather information on us, murder our people in their sleep—that’s how your parents died, am I correct? Some spy that sneaked into their palace assassinated them when they were asleep? It would such a shame if the same thing happens to you—after I take down the wall, of course.”

Yoongi smirked when noticing the seeing Jimin’s jaw clenching and hands angrily balling into fists. “So don’t you ever accuse me again? Because everything I do is for the best of my people, not just yours. The wall is only bordering your land because your land is the only one that connects with the South.”

Jimin’s head hung low, hands unclenching and lips dropping into the frown.

“So before you come at me, you should make sure that you have all the information, do you understand me?” Jimin nodded and sat down.

Everybody tensed when Yoongi then stood up from his seat and slowly, intimidatingly made his way to Jimin’s chair. And when placing his hands on the younger man’s shoulders, Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle when feeling him jump slightly underneath his touch. “Normally I’d kill anyone who spoke to me that way,” leaning down, he whispered into Jimin’s ear, sending chills along his pale skin, “but I’ll let it slide for once since you’re new to this whole thing.”

“T-Thank you, your Majesty.”

With one last pat on the shaking man’s shoulder, Yoongi pulled away, and he was standing straight again, his eyes suddenly fell on your figure who stood near the entrance of the conference hall. But you weren’t alone, no, three servants that he couldn’t recognize was with you. The four of you seemed to be in a deep conversation, and with everybody focused on him, nobody noticed you.

Yoongi’s eyes slightly squinted out of suspicion when seeing you then bow your head at the three servants, a smile on your face before each of you went your separate ways.

Yoongi is definitely going to look into that.

“Now,” returning his attention back to his guests, Yoongi leaned himself against the table, keeping close to the blonde man that was still trembling. “Does anyone else have anything to say to me?”

“N-No no, your Majesty,” Jung Hoseok, another royal spoke up, gulping anxiously as he tightened his hand around his wife’s who sat beside him. “We have no complaints whatsoever, you’re doing an amazing job—the perfect ruler.”

Kiss ass, Yoongi rolled his eyes, pushing himself away from the table. He then shifted his attention towards your husband and asks, “what about you, your Highness? Anything to say?”

Taehyung shook his head. “No, your Majesty.”

“What a bunch spineless people,” Yoongi’s mind scoffed, and he couldn’t agree more.

His advisor then rose from his chair and spoke up, “okay everyone, thank you all for attending his Majesty’s annual end of conference feast this year. You may all now return to your rooms and get some rest before heading back to your own residences in the morning.”

Yoongi stayed back and bid farewell to everyone, and once everyone was gone he left the conference hall with only one thing on his mind—you. He was determined to find out what exactly were you and those three servants were discussing about. Yoongi was so rapt on you that he didn’t even hear his advisor calling out of him to come back.

He practically jogged to the chambers hall, heading straight to your room and when he got there, just as he was about barge right through the door he was then stopped by a sudden sound. Moans could be heard on the other side of the door—female moans. Yoongi’s hands were already hovering over the door handle before he opened it slightly to where there was only a crack, giving him the view of seeing your husband with same servant girl from the night before.

Yoongi watches as she claws his back, legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he place open mouth kisses along her bare chest and thrusted deep into her, causing loud, pleasurable moans to erupt from both of their mouths.

“T-Tae,” the young servant girl gasped, hands running up and down his sweaty back and fingers digging into his marked, glistening skin. “I’m close.”

“Me too, love,” he groaned back, leaning down and capturing her lips into a passionate kiss. “Together, okay...?”

Utterly shameless, Yoongi shook his head and pushed away from the door with disgust. Just as he was about to continue searching for you, he froze at the sound a voice behind him—a female voice.

“Are you looking for Lady Kim, your Majesty?”

Yoongi turned around and was greeted by one of your servants, hands laced together and hanging in front of her with a wide smile on her face. “No, I’m not,” he quickly replied, shaking his head. He expected her to just nod her head and leave, but instead she released a small chuckle and turned around, saying in a soft tone, “follow me.”

Yoongi was hesitant, eyes burning suspiciously into the servant girl’s back as she began to walk away. But he soon decided to follow her despite the constant warnings that were running through his head at the moment.

The servant’s gaze was trained on the path in front of her, not even bothering to acknowledge the glare she was receiving by platinum-haired man that was trailing right behind her.

The warnings that were consuming Yoongi’s head started to get louder as he continued to follow her deeper into his residence, parts of his home that he hasn’t even been in.

Yoongi stopped in his place when the servant led him to a room with dark, double doors. “What is this,” he asks with a cold expression, causing the young girl to chuckle and open the door without saying a word to him. He was about to question her even more but when he got to see what was behind the door, leaving him speechless.

Standing right in front him was you, along with over a dozen guards and servants that were from many different kingdoms. Some of the guards and servants were part of the Park Kingdom, some were from the Jung Kingdom, and others were from your own home.

“What’s going on here?” Yoongi asks, his eyes glancing across the many different pairs that were staring right back at him.

“They work for me,” came out of your mouth. “We are all part of movement that believes that the North needs a change in leadership—which is you. You’re the only that deserves to rule the North, not these cowards.”

Yoongi was speechless. For once in his life he didn’t know to say. For the first time he wasn’t the one that was planning in the shadows, plotting against somebody—but instead it was people who he has never even met before. “Why,” was the only thing that came out of his mouth.

“Because war is coming your Majesty,” you stepped towards him to where you stood only inches away from his face, staring up to meet his eyes. “My agents told me that the South is planning an invasion into our territory, and the way the other kingdoms are ruling their land—we won’t survive this war. You are the only one that is capable of leading us to victory.”

Yoongi turned towards your followers. “Do you all agree with him?”

“Yes, your Majesty,” one of the guards spoke up. Each and every person then stepped forward and began to speak loudly on their opinions of their leaders.

“Park Jimin is too young to be King—he doesn’t know how to rule.”

“He can’t even hold a sword properly.”

“Jung Hoseok is a spineless man!”

“Damn right he is! The moment the South comes barging intl his palace, he’ll do whatever it takes to save his own skin and not his people.”

“Kim Taehyung is shameless bastard who would rather spend his time fucking his servants than leading his own Kingdom.”

Yoongi could see you snicker at that comment.

“He spends our taxes buying whores instead of using it to improve our home.”

“None of them belong on the throne!”

“They are right, your Majesty,” you stared at him with a small smirk on your lips. “Out of everyone, you’re the only that deserves to rule us. You are the one who will lead us to glory.”

Yoongi stared down at you with such desire. He may have found you attractive before, but now he couldn’t help but find you utterly irresistible. “So this isn’t just some power trip? Doing all this just to get to the top?”

Yoongi had his suspicions already about the war. He has heard from his own agents that the South were planning on some sort of invasion, but there wasn’t any evidence that confirmed that. So sadly he hasn’t been able to do any preparations—at least, none without the other royals knowledge of it.

You shook your head. “I don’t care about power, your Majesty—only survival, and you’re the best way to achieve that.”

“I see,” Yoongi reached up and stroked his chin, “how would you all do this anyway? Kill the rulers of each Kingdom can be tricky, and what about their heirs?”

“It’s quite easy,” you answered with a small grin. “They all have their jobs,” you nodded at your followers, “once they are home and unguarded, that is when they’ll strike. And as for their heirs, well, that’s not really a problem.”

Yoongi raised a brow. “Jung Hoseok’s wife is unable to bare a child, and he also doesn’t have any younger siblings to take over. So once he passes, rulership of his Kingdom immediately goes over to you. Same goes for my husband and Park Jimin.”

“I see,” Yoongi hums, biting inside of his cheek. “So what’s my job then?”

You smirk. “The only thing you have to do is have your succession speech ready, your Majesty.”

“But I have another problem,” Yoongi added. “Many people already disagree with our war with the South. How will we manage to persuade them that this is necessary? It’ll be difficult since three of the four leaders of the North are dead.”

“Trust me, your Majesty,” you spoke with such clarity and a smile on your face. “Everything is planned out and you don’t have to worry.”

Yoongi didn’t replay, eyes briefly glancing at the people that surrounded him. You must’ve noticed his still cautious state because next thing he knew you were signaling everybody out, telling them to “get some rest and prepare for your departure in the morning.”

“Why are you doing this exactly?” Yoongi asks the moment you two were alone in the room. “Because there is no damn way you’re doing this just for survival. I mean,” he suddenly chuckles, “you are giving complete control of the North. What is your angle here? Are you going to kill me after all this is so that you become Emperor?” Yoongi was starting to get frustrated. He has never had trouble understanding someone before until he met you. And now because of you, his mind was a complete mess.

“That’s not my intention at all, your Majesty,” smiling up at him, you placed your hand on his shoulder, smirking at the feeling of him tensing underneath your fingertips. “All I want is for the North, my home—your home to finally come out of its shadow that it has been forced to hide in for centuries.”

“And you think I’m the one that can do that?”

“Yes,” you nod, fingers dancing across his chest. “I’ve read records of previous Emperors and you’re the only that deserves that title. Unlike the other ones, you are resilient, intelligent, ruthless if necessary, and you even fight alongside your men which no other Emperor has done before.”

As each compliment came out of your mouth, Yoongi couldn’t help but feel himself starting to get hard underneath his lower robes, and you running your hands seductively over his chest definitely wasn’t helping.

“How should I repay you for your kindness then,” Yoongi found himself melting against your touch, his hands finding their way into your waist. “Because someone like you definitely deserves an reward for their loyalty.” Yoongi then turns you around in one quick motion, causing you to gasp at the sudden action and feeling his strong chest pressed up against your back and lips brushing against your ear.

A tiny moan escaped from your lips when feeling his hard length suddenly rub against your ass, you yourself starting to get hard as well. “Should I buy you plenty of jewelry, or maybe a large palace just for you?” Yoongi then pushed you up against the wall, smirking at the small gasp that came from you. “Or perhaps,” another moan came out of your mouth when one of his hands slipped underneath your robes and caressed the soft flesh of your behind, “make you wife?”

Yoongi chuckled when feeling shiver against him. “Yeah, you would like that, huh? Being my wife, an Empress, ruling right beside me?”

“Y-Yes, your Majesty,” you stuttered out, tilting your head back from the sensation, giving Yoongi the opportunity to lean down and leaving wet, tender kisses along your neck and bare shoulder, leaving dark bruises that’ll be near impossible to cover up tomorrow morning.

“Good,” Yoongi left another mark on your skin, dragging his finger across your ass, teasing your clenching hole with his fingertip. “Then how about we—secure our deal, then? And when you nodded, that was all Yoongi needed before turning you around to face him and crashing his lips down forcefully onto yours. The kiss was rough, yet tender and filled with lust. With your hands around his neck, Yoongi’s slid down to your thighs and hoisted you up into his arms, deepening the kiss with his lips moving in perfect sync against yours.

The kiss was like a drug that neither of you couldn’t get enough of.

“Please, your Majesty,” you whimpered against his lips, which made Yoongi want you even more than he already did. “Can you please h-hurry?”

Yoongi smirked against your lips, pulling away. “Don’t worry, my love, just be patient.”

It was quite ironic though, because Yoongi was everything but patient when it came to you. He couldn’t wait any longer. Instead of carrying you all the way to his chamber, he laid you on the closest flat surface which happened to be a table and tore your robes completely off of you, leaving you bare and them in ruins.

Yoongi decided to take his sweet time with you, dragging his lips across your ankles, up your legs to your meaty thighs. He then began to leave open mouth kisses over your abdomen and up your chest, teasing your nipples with his tongue and grazing the wet muscle over your collarbone. Yoongi continued his assault on your body until he reached back up your lips, capturing them this time into a soft, passionate kiss which you gladly returned without a second thought, hands sliding up to his shoulders and helping him strip from his own robes, revealing his pale and toned body.

Your mouth watered at the sight of him, eyeing his define muscles, the way his abs clenched as he climbed onto the table and hovered over you, and the way his biceps bulged as he held himself above you. “Y-Your Majesty—”

“Yoongi,” he cut you off, pulling away and moving his lips to your throat. “Call me, Yoongi, my love.”

“Y-Yoongi,” you tried out, heart warming in both of your chests once hearing his name come out of your mouth. It sounded right coming from you. “Please—”

“Don’t worry, my love,” Yoongi reassured you, moving his lips back up to yours. “I’m here, I’m here. Let me show you how it feels to be loved by a real man, yeah?”

The night was then soon filled with nothing but the sound your combined moans, skin slapping and the shared whispers of sweet words between one another.

This was the start of something new.

“T-Taehyung, faster, faster please!”

The sound of the woman’s moans and the bed’s headboard banging against the connecting wall to your room made your blood boil. Your hands clenched into fists and teeth biting angrily down onto your lips.

“Be patient, my love,” you could hear your husband say through the thin wall, making the rage that flowed through your veins grow more. “Let me cherish you, beautiful...”

“Your Highness,” the sound of a man’s voice tore you out of your thoughts, “I’ve done what you’ve asked me to do.”

“Everything’s prepared and ready?”

The guard nodded his head once you turned around, “yes, your Highness. The only people remaining in the palace are your loyal followers. Everyone else has been sent home.”

“Good,” only came out of your mouth before leaving your chambers with the guard following closely behind you. You walked over next door and didn’t bother knocking before barging right in, your husband and the girl instantly jumping to cover themselves with the thin bedsheets.

“What the fuck?!” Taehyung curses loudly, staring at you with wide eyes and wrapping his arms around the girl’s waist, pulling her close. “What are you doing here? I told already you that I’m staying here tonight.”

“I know,” you replied with not even a single ounce of emotion heard in your voice.

Taehyung’s eyes then shifted towards the guard that stood beside you. “What’s going on here?”

You didn’t say anything, only smiled, and that caused fear to form in the pit of Taehyung’s gut. With just the simple nod of your head, the guard walked over to the servant girl and snatched her by her hair, tearing her away from his grasp and yanking her off the bed and onto the ground.

“Stop—” Taehyung tried to reach for her but stopped when the guard pulled out a dagger and held the sharp blade against her neck, tears shining in her eyes. He then turned towards you, eyes glistening as well, “why are you doing this?”

“Change,” was all you said before nodding your head again, giving the guard the order to slide his blade across the girl’s throat, killing her instantly and letting her limp body collapse into the ground.

“N-No no,” Taehyung didn’t hesitate this time to jump out of the bed, despite being completely nude and taking her now lifeless body into his arms, blood staining the ground and his skin, and tears spilling uncontrollably from his eyes. “She was pregnant...”

“Oh well.”

Taehyung’s head shot up from your heartless comment, his teary eyes shining with a newfound rage. Before he had the chance to say anything the guard approached him from behind and wrapped his arms tightly around his neck. He immediately began clawing at his arms, trying to gasp for air that was becoming harder and harder to obtain, eyes bright red and nearly bulging out, tears slipping from them and sliding down his cheeks.

The last thing he saw before he took his last breath and eyes slowly closed was you standing in front of him with a sinister grin on your lips.

“Your Majesty.”

Yoongi glanced up from his book to see his personal advisor standing right in front of him by his library’s entrance. He hummed in reply, signaling for the young man to continue. We’ve gotten word from Lady Kim—” Yoongi glared at him, causing his advisor to pause and correct his words, “—I mean, ____’s agents that they have completed their duties.”

“They have?” Yoongi asked with a raised brow. He knew you were more than capable of doing this, but he thought something this major would take at least a week to accomplish. He didn’t expect to hear about any success a day later.

“Yes, your Majesty,” his advisor nodded. “The Jung palace is flames at this moment and there is word that Jung Hoseok himself and his wife were in their chambers when the fire happened. And as for Park Jimin, he was found murdered in his bed with a dagger in his chest. Some say it was one of his concubines that done it.”

“What about Kim Taehyung?” Yoongi found himself asking, his mind instantly thinking of you. “Was ___ successful?”

“Yes, your Majesty he was,” his advisor answered. “I was informed about Kim Taehyung’s death by ___ himself.”

Yoongi couldn’t stop the smile forming on his lips. “Good.”

“Would you like to start writing your succession speech now, your Majesty?”

“Yes,” Yoongi answered. “We’ll have the succession conference next week, and make sure every minor clan leader comes so that they know who is in charge now.”

“Yes, your Majesty,” his advisor nodded his head, and before leaving he turned back and said to him in a teasing tone, “oh, and someone is here to see you.”

Yoongi was about to ask him who it was, but he stopped himself when his eyes suddenly landed on you standing in his library’s entrance, his heart stopping in his chest at the sight of you. “H-Hey,” he stuttered out, cringing at the sound of himself. In all his years of living, nobody has ever had this type of power over him—but he wasn’t complaining either.

“Hello, your Majesty,” your reply sent tingles all over his body—and he loved it.

There was nothing but silence afterwards between you two because there wasn’t any need for words. The only thing you two needed to express the feelings you have for each other was your eyes—the passion, the lust, the want that shined in them.

This is just the beginning for you two.

would you guys like to see a drabble series of these two in the future maybe? emperor yoongi and his male wife.

TAGLIST:

@ben-c0c, @sombreboy, @theclawofsa, @joongtoons, @xavi-in-kpopland, @ephemeralkookie, @yoshiure, @illbeyournightmare, @sonderkook, @spaceisbigger, @catboygyu, @justqueerandhereforthetea, @xxminilah​

[eddisfargo]

Not a day will go by (3/?)

Another update?? Already?? All the nice comments keep spurring me on! And look! I have a tag list!

@resident-of-storybrooke , (this is your present so you’re on here automatically), @everything-person 

AO3 Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3

Summary: Captain Hook wakes up in a strange bed, next to a woman he does not remember. He finds nothing particularly unusual about this situation. But the woman seems to know him very well.

In Storybrooke, there’s only one surefire way to get back a lost memory. And it’s not going to work until he loves her.

Rating: M

Chapter 3: Telling the story

Chapter summary: 

Finally, someone tells Killian something REAL.

(Although Emma might have summarized it very differently)

Emma  apologized for not “having the bug.” Whatever this was supposed to mean, the implication was that they had to walk home. He hadn’t really expected anything different, but if the alternative was that yellow thing she’d careened off in this morning, he decided walking was preferable. He attempted to keep a respectable distance between them, but evidently she had no such compunctions. She kept bumping up against him and smiling, or trying to take his hand.

He supposed that she was simply plying her trade. However much money he’d had on him the previous night, he reasoned, had likely been enough to hint at more. Well, the joke was on her. He’d found no more coin in his quarters–the thieves had made off with everything. Funny how that didn’t bother him nearly as much as his few most precious items.

They walked mostly in silence-–she’d tried a few salvos at conversation, but he’d been in no mood to try to puzzle out her constant stream of nonsense, so he’d remained taciturn. She’d given him an understanding sort of smile and briefly put her arm around him, with no concession to propriety even in broad daylight, on a crowded road. What surprised him was that the people they passed did not look at all disapproving. There was no muttering behind the hands, or shaking of the head, as those employed in the oldest profession tended to endure.

He’d already noted the apparent acceptance of pirates. Perhaps it was simply an eccentricity of the region. Perhaps it was some sort of sanctuary city made mostly of the dregs of society. He’d visited such places, but they weren’t normally this… quaint. And he hadn’t actually seen anything particularly nefarious going on. No one seemed to be violent, or afraid. Nor had he seen any law enforcement. What a strange place this was. For just a moment, he considered asking her for the name of the land they were in. But he knew from experience she’d respond with some complete non sequitur like, “sorry babe, I left it on the desk,” and act as if she’d answered the question.

All too soon, they were at the door of the same house where he’d woken up.

She unlocked the door and walked in, calling “Henry?”

He tensed. What was the plan if her husband was home?

She shrugged. “Still with his mom.” She smiled sheepishly. “I mean, his other mom.” Well. That told you all you needed to know about their marriage. He stayed with his mother while she made cracks about their relationship to her affair partner. A far cry from the wedding picture. He wondered if he knew how she made her money. They were clearly well off, judging from the house. So, did she entertain men for pocket money denied by a miserly husband? Or did her considerable skills finance their lifestyle?

Hook considered asking, but she’d probably just—no, he’d never get anywhere at that rate. He was going to bloody ask. And she was going to give him a satisfactory answer—not because he needed to know this particular detail about her life, but because he needed to get a straight answer out of someone about something at some point, or he’d lose his grip.

“So…” he said, moving into her space. Her eyes widened with interest. That was a good start—someone behaving as he’d expected. Finally . He leaned his head toward her. “Does your husband know that when he’s gone, you fall into bed with the first pirate you see?”

That seemed to take her by surprise for a moment. After a beat, though, she smiled wolfishly. “Oh, we’re doing this, huh?” She pulled a small object out of her jacket pocket. It emitted a bluish glow. “Okay, we should have at least an hour.”

Dammit, another non sequitur. Well, this time, he wasn’t taking it. He pulled her close to him, his lips against her ear, and growled, “You didn’t answer my question.”

The sound she made was immensely satisfying. And finally, an answer. “My husband? He has no idea.” She pulled away for a moment, raising an eyebrow maddeningly. “And who says you’re the first pirate I saw?” At the look in his eyes, which ought to have had her falling to her knees, she only laughed. “But certainly the most devilishly handsome.”

This woman, he thought, would do him in.

With a glance at the front door, she pulled him upstairs. Hook followed because he wanted to, of course, and would have done so anyway. He was the one in charge of this situation.

Pulling him toward the bed, the woman— Emma — looked up at him through her eyelashes. “You know,” she said, suddenly affecting innocence, “I’m really a very faithful wife. It’s hardly my fault you’re so irresistible. ” She was laying it on a bit thick, if he was honest. Especially saying this while divesting herself of her outer layer of clothing. She hung her red jacket over a chair.

He scoffed. “That’s what all women claim, in my experience.”

She paused for a moment, considering. In quite a different voice, more like the one he associated with her, she said “hmm… that doesn’t make me sound very special. How about… You were about to leave port, and some other woman was hanging off of you, but you weren’t interested. Then I showed up–oh, wearing that dress from the tavern, you remember? With the ridiculous cleavage? Like that time in the past.” She looked pleased with the recounting.  “And you couldn’t take your eyes off of me.”

Finally, he was getting the story of last night! And with that sparkle in her eye, he could imagine all too well seeing no one but her. “Oh, is that how you remember it?” he asked, staring at her intently.

“It is. We made eye contact across the bar–your eyes all smouldery–yes, just like that,” her breathing was coming faster. “And I knew I had to have you, even though I shouldn’t.” She was leaning in now, and he could feel every word against his chest above the shirt he was wearing.

“Even though you knew Henry wouldn’t be pleased?”

She pulled away immediately, and he felt cold where her body had been. “Ooookay,” she said. “Hard line. Mentioning Henry is an instant mood killer. Kind of didn’t think I had to say that.” She shook her head, grimacing, and brushed back the hair that had fallen into her face. “Let’s try that again, and go in a completely different direction, please.”

Understandable, he supposed. She’d been the one talking about her husband, but perhaps hearing his name brought her sins home in an unpleasant way.

“Even though… your husband wouldn’t be pleased?” he tried.

“Better, thanks.” She winced. “I’m a little out of it now, can you get me going again?” He didn’t think he’d ever encountered a woman who talked like this. It was… novel. It was… not unappealing. He searched for something to say she might like. “I’ve been with many, many women, over the years.” Emma leveled a glance at him. “How about you get to the ‘but’ and stay there?”

“But ,” he continued hastily. “Few have intrigued me like you.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Few ?”

“None!” he corrected hastily, not especially concerned with leaving the bounds of honesty. “No woman has ever made me feel… out of my mind, the way you do.” She seemed to be thawing, and he hoped he didn’t ruin it by laughing at his own joke. There was certainly no lie there. “I don’t know up from down. I don’t understand more than a quarter of what you say, but somehow I don’t want you to stop saying it.” The sincerity in his own voice took him momentarily by surprise. He didn’t mean it, of course. He was just trying to get her back into the mood.

She leaned forward, pressing up against him again. “I’ve never felt this way before, either. When I saw you, I knew I had to have you.” She paused as if thinking of what to say next. “You’ve��� seen so much of the world.”

Ahh, he’d told her stories of his travels. Made sense—that worked nine times out of ten. “Kingdoms you couldn’t imagine,” he whispered, slipping his hand under her shirt. “Although none as strange as this one.”

She laughed, just a breath, and he felt it on his lips. “Love a man who’s seen it all.”

“Never hurts to see it again,” he suggested, pulling her shirt over her head to reveal some sort of fascinating undergarment. “You know,” he said, “I rarely sleep with the same woman more than once. You’re a rarity.”

She lay back and looked up at him, her eyes twinkling. “What an honor. How many am I at?”

“Three now, I believe.” he said. Then, because he still couldn’t exactly remember the previous night, he added, “At least.” He applied his mouth to her recently exposed skin.

She gasped under him, but managed a few more words. “At least,” she agreed.

And there was little more talking to be done.

Notes:

Just want to thank everyone for their ridiculously nice comments!! This is so much more than I expected! Much dopamine, thanks!

I'm sure they'll figure this out EVENTUALLY. Maybe even soon! Honestly, it's taking them longer than expected. There might be a tone shift when they figure it out! Not sure, things keep changing when I actually write it down.

[lassieposting]

💘💘💘💘 + ghasdug

send me 💘 + A SHIP and i’ll tell you—

where they first met and how

So Skug says they stowed away on the same ship, but this is...not exactly true.

He stowed away on that ship, because he was running away from home and he was a snobby little lordling who'd never had to fend for himself a day in his life, so the furthest ahead he'd actually thought to plan was "they won't want to turn around and drop me off once they're underway".

Ghastly was not stowed away at any point during that trip. Ghastly was signed on for the journey as a deckhand, because Ghastly's mother told him he needed to, and it had to be that particular ship. Ghastly gets seasick, and did not want to go to sea in the slightest. But Ghastly's mother has visions and so Ghastly does as he is told. Apparently there was something important waiting for him on that ship.

Anyway Skug pops out once he thinks they're far enough away from shore that they'll leave him be rather than take him back to port, and he is incredibly mistaken. The captain is in favour of turning him around right there and then, because he's clearly some rich lord's brat, and whoever his father is will probably pay handsomely for his safe return. Ghastly manages to talk the ship's crew into letting him stay on, provided he pulls his weight like the rest of them.

Needless to say, even before they're attacked by pirates, that voyage is a rude awakening for poor Skug, and good lord does Ghastly hear all about it. He has blisters. His feet hurt. This shirt was expensive and now it's all sweaty. His hair is in his eyes all the time. He's tired. The guy in the next bunk snores. Some of these people look like they have lice. He didn't realise he'd be doing manual labour, this is servant stuff, how dare they.

Ghastly does. Not realise at that point what he has let himself in for.

how long their ‘flirting’ phase was before feelings got involved

Poor Ghastly gets to pine for years. Baby Skug isn't a great boyfriend. He's less invested - he loves Ghastly, but they have two totally different outlooks.

Ghastly is ugly. He's always been ugly. He's got a face he believes only his mother could love. He's never believed he'd find someone who saw past that or loved him regardless. So as soon as he gets Skug into bed, he's over the moon and ready to commit. He's like 17, and would absolutely settle down there and then given half a chance.

Skug, on the other hand, was a weird-looking child who only recently grew into an attractive adolescent and he is loving it. For the first time in his life, girls are noticing him. He doesn't want to settle down, he wants to play the field and sow some wild oats and have fun. So there are periods of exclusivity with Ghastly, interspersed with periods where Skug basically drops him to chase after the latest pretty bit of skirt.

who fell for who first ( if applicable )

Ghastly's smitten by the time they make it back to Ireland - Skug is a bit soft and allergic to hard work and a pain in the arse, but he's flashy and charismatic and funny and pays attention to him without gawking at his face (past the initial "good god, what happened to you?") - but Skug is well and truly settled into living with Ghastly's family by the time he actually gives Ghas the come-on.

where their first date was and what it was like

They went to the local tavern and got drunk, and then rode home in the pouring rain once it kicked them out at closing time.

When they got home, Ghastly's parents had long since gone to bed, but that wasn't necessarily unusual - once Skug, who has a considerable allowance, is old enough to start drinking, Saoirse institutes a rule that if they're not home by the time she and her husband turn in for the night, she'll leave blankets in the barn and they can sleep there instead. She's not having them barging in, wasted, at all hours of the day and night, waking her up after a hard day's work.

So they put the horses away and give them a quick rub down, and Ghastly is trying to look anywhere but Skug because Skug's shirt has gone kind of see-through and poor Ghastly is an awkward, horny teenage boy, but he keeps shooting him these furtive glances over the horse's back and Skug notices because Skug notices everything and lowkey teases him about it. "Want me to sit for a portrait? It'll last longer," sort of teasing, and Ghastly tries to laugh along but he's also vibrant red because he's been caught staring, so obviously Skug realises something's up

And he's precisely as tactful about it as he ever is about anything, and jokes, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you wanted me," and Ghastly's ears burn and he doesn't deny it quick enough and now Skug's eyebrows are inching towards his hairline and Ghastly panics because like, he's ugly, Skug is going to be disgusted or laugh at him and he can't cope with either, so he just? Freezes?

But like. Skug was a weird-looking, unfortunate child who very recently grew into an attractive adolescent, so he fucking thrives on attention. So his response to this awkward not-quite-a-confession is actually a moment of silence while he mulls this new information over (this feels like an eternity to poor Ghastly) followed by an early attempt at using The Hot Voice and, "If you want me, have me."

So, they end up having sex in the hayloft on the blankets Ghastly's mom left out for them. Ghastly has never even been kissed and doesn't admit that he has no idea what he's doing until he realises Skug is expecting him to take the lead. He also blurts that he loves Skug when he nuts, so like. It's your typical painfully embarrassing virginity loss.

It can't be all bad though, because Skug's up for doing it again.

who asks who out and how ( with a sign? spelled out on a cake? just a simple ‘will you go out with me’? )

So in my endgame-ghasdug AU, they get back together post-TDOTL. Ghastly survives being stabbed, but the blade nicked his spinal cord, so he's in a wheelchair for quite a while, and then has to do A Lot of physical therapy to relearn how to walk. Skug shows up at the hospital/facility where he's recovering every day unless there's an emergency, because Ghastly is very depressed and struggling with survivor's guilt over Anton and doesn't see the point in doing his physio because it hurts and he's exhausted and he shouldn't be alive anyway. And Skug annoys him into doing it, mostly by heckling him from the other side of the room, because he's not great at the whole emotional support thing. Ghastly will mutter, "Christ, I want to hit you," and Skug will tell him, "Well, if you come over here to do it I won't even duck." And if Ghastly gets his ass up and uses the walking frame support thing to cross the room, well, then Skug will take a punch like a man and be happy about it because Ghastly walked.

They also talk a lot during this period. Ghastly feels like shit, and he reminisces a lot about the good old days and how he never saw Ravel's betrayal coming and memories he has of Anton, and sometimes that veers into memories they share from when they were young men. And Skug, at this point, is old enough and has been through enough to admit that he wasn't great to Ghastly when they were boys. He was flighty and selfish and high-maintenance, and he would've hated to be treated the way he treated Ghastly. And he tells him that, at one point - that he's sorry, and if he could go back and do it differently, he would, assuming Ghastly was daft enough to be willing to put up with him a second time.

And Ghastly laughs and tells him, "I'd still have you now, you stupid bastard."

who proposes first

Ghastly. They're 19/20. Skug thinks he's joking.

if they keep / kept their relationship secret or let everyone know right away

Neither - they don't announce it, but it's not exactly a secret either. Ghastly's parents notice pretty much straight away, but other than a few parental pointers on what is and isn't appropriate, it's not really a topic of conversation.

where the proposal happens and how ( kiss cam at a baseball game? on a hillside surrounded by ducks? at a disney park? )

Skug's sister Confelicity accepts the first proposal she gets at the age of 16, because she's desperate to get out of their parents' house and away from their toxic relationship and controlling behaviour. Their father disapproves and refuses to attend the wedding (and, of course, their mother is not allowed her own opinion), and Carver is out of the country, so Skug stands in to a) pay and b) give away the bride. He takes Ghastly for moral support, because he doesn't like most of his relatives and also doesn't like the groom (Thurid Guild - their relationship doesn't improve when Confelicity divorces him a few years later to marry a baronet). While they're watching the couple say their vows, Ghastly murmurs, "We should get married."

Skug is right in the middle of his hoe phase and does not realise Ghastly's serious.

who’s more dominant

Generally, Skug. He is one hell of a force of personality and Ghastly does get steamrollered quite a bit, although he does eventually learn how to say no. Skug always gets things his way, always does whatever he likes and be damned to the consequences, and Ghastly is always there with a handful of the back of his shirt, pulling his ass out of whatever fire he started.

In bed, though, it's Ghastly.

how into pda they are

As teenagers, Ghastly's mother has to reprimand them occasionally for being too all over each other, but teenagers be rabidly horny. As grown men, they're just sort of casually affectionate. Comfortable with each other. When they're relaxing in camp after a day of travelling, Skug will lean against Ghastly to read a book or put his head on Ghastly's leg while they chat. They can have a silent conversation just by reading each other's faces. They'll nudge each other when something reminds them of an in-joke. They have that easy intimacy that comes with having known each other forever.

where their usual ‘date spot’ is ( if applicable )

As boys, Ghastly has a particular flowery meadow he likes to take Skug to for picnics, because he's a romantic. Skug at that age is considerably less so, and more interested in whether they can screw there without getting caught.

In the modern day, they go to see old movies. Ghastly was very into the early films of the late 1910s and the 1920s, after the war finished. He associates them with a time where he finally got to just set up his shop and live the life he always wanted to live. Skug hasn't seen most of Ghastly's favourites, because he spent that period of history fighting the truce and then spiralling into a black hole of trauma and misery, but he got very into the noir detective era to the point that he's still clinging to the aesthetic like 80 years later, so they'll alternate who picks the movies and catch each other up on their favourites.

who’s more protective

They've both spent their fair share of time fretting in the chair beside a hospital bed. After Ravel's betrayal, though, it's Skug. Ghastly retires as soon as he's considered fit to make the decision, and decides he wants to go back to Dublin to reopen his shop and just sort of try and forget Roarhaven exists. And Skug is absolutely adamant that he gets to do it. There's a lot of interest in Ghastly for a while - groundbreaking healing magic was used to fix what should've been a permanent injury, people want to know if he suspected Ravel, they want his advice on how to rebuild after Devastation Day. He's more approachable than China, and a lot more popular. But he can't cope with it all, and anyone who tries to hassle him in Dublin will have Skug to deal with.

how long it is before they sleep together ( can be as in ‘had sex’ or as in ‘shared a bed’ )

The first night Skug stays at Ghastly's family home. Ghastly is an only child, and his family isn't wealthy - their house doesn't have a guest room. It's sleep with Ghastly or sleep on the floor, and Little Lord Priss isn't going to be sleeping on the floor.

Honestly, he's relieved there isn't a spare room for him. He's never really slept alone before. Like most children of very wealthy families back then, he grew up in a nursery with his four oldest brothers and sisters, and when he was too old to live with The Children, he shared a room, first with Carver and then with Francis. The thought of being on his own in a strange house is pretty intimidating.

He moves to his own bed as soon as they get him one, but he stays in Ghastly's room, and he's perfectly happy with that.

(Ghastly is less happy. He's very much crushing on Skug and he's terrified he'll say something incriminating in his sleep.)

who steals whose clothes and how often

Skug gets to steal Ghastly's clothes for a year or two after he moves in with Ghastly's family. After that, they're built too differently. Ghastly is built like a brick shithouse of muscle. Skug is lean and toned and tall. When they're younger, he can more or less wear Ghastly's clothes as a nightshirt, but after Skug's final growth spurt, Ghastly's clothes don't sit right on him at all, and he's gotten too vain and fashion-conscious by that point to just wear them anyway.

what their usual coffee / tea orders are

Ghastly is fussy about his tea. Plenty of milk, two and a half sugars, leave the teabag in.

Skug just inhales it black, which Ghastly thinks is an abomination.

if they ever have any children together

Ghastly thanks his lucky stars every day that they have a 0% chance of accidentally spawning a skuglet. One of him is plenty.

He's very involved with Skugbab when he comes along, though. He's godfather and a very present uncle.

if they have any special pet names for each other

Skug doesn't do nicknames, and would rather not be given them, either. Ghastly gets away with "Skul", primarily because he's the only one who's known Skug since he was all of 16, but also because "Skulduggery" is a mouthful when all your blood is rushing to your downstairs brain and it's his own damn fault that he didn't think of that before he picked it.

if they ever split up and / or get back together

So many times. They're on and off again more frequently than Saracen's clothes. Every time Skug spots someone new, he ends it with Ghastly to pursue them, and then comes back when he loses interest or it doesn't work out.

what their shared living space is like ( messy? clean? what kind of decor? )

Ghastly's family home is an old farmhouse on the outskirts of Dublin. It's simple, but cosy, and Ghastly's dad is incredibly houseproud, so it's very well-looked-after. Skug prefers it by miles to his own palacial, but cold and unwelcoming, family home, and he tries to replicate the vibe later on with Wifey. It's pretty small compared to what he's used to, so it sort of feels like they're all living on top of each other, and he has to get used to not having any servants and drawing his own water to heat his own bath etc, but he's loved there, and that makes all the difference.

what their names are in each other’s phones

They're both old-ass men about some things, and this is one of them. So no emojis or anything - they're "Ghastly Bespoke" and "Skul". How romantic.

who falls asleep first and who wakes up first

Ghastly wakes up first: he's used to rising early to get started on his chores. Skug is absolutely not a morning person at this point in his life and Ghastly frequently has to turf his ass out of bed by pulling his quilt off/dumping water on him/yelling in his ear.

Reversed with modern day ghasdug: Ghastly still wakes at a sensible time, but damn it he left the army a century ago and now he likes a lie in. Skug never really stopped being a soldier and still has most of his military habits, so he's up with the sun.

who’s the big spoon / little spoon

Ghastly is the big spoon. Skug likes to be Held.

who hogs the bathroom

Skug. The boy is vain as all fuck. There is a grand total of one cloudy looking-glass in Ghastly's family's home and Skug spends a good chunk of the morning hogging it to fuss with his hair and peacock at his reflection. Ghastly is under strict orders Never to mention this to Fletcher.

[biwenqing]

I know jc got dunked numerous times, but does lwj ever get dunked? and if so, who's brave enough to do it?

THESE QUESTIONS just *chef kiss* so so good! Sorry for the delay with this, it ended up over twice as long as I expected (almost 3k). I had a ton of fun with it, I hope you enjoy it! Very much a “let Lan Wangji have friends agenda”. (link to series on ao3)

The alternate title: Four People Who Can, Would, and Have Dunked Lan Wangji

| 1. Wei Wuxian |

“Would you spar with me?” Lan Wangji found that the word burst forth. He had wanted to ask them for a while and just hadn’t found the right time.

Wei Ying tensed from where he sat, fiddling with some brilliant talisman design or other. An unhappy frown pinched his face, which was very much not the expression Lan Wangji wanted. Wei Wing sighed and said in a tired tone, “I won’t use my sword.”

Ah, that was the issue. Lan Wangji quickly clarified, “I was thinking I had not practiced hand to hand combat in too long.”

Wei Ying’s expression changed instantly, a knowing smile and reflection of the heat that curled in Lan Wangji’s gut. He set aside what he was working on and came to stand at Lan Wangji’s side, leaning forward into his space. “My husband has such good ideas, I know just the place!”

Wei Ying led him a ways away from Lotus Pier, around a bend in the river where there was a shore of soft sand. It was an ideal and private training ground and Lan Wangji was planning on telling Wei Ying this, but when he looked over, words failed him. Wei Ying was taking off his outer robes and layers until he was just in his underclothes.

He grinned when he caught Lan Wangji staring. “Lan Zhan, you can’t tell me we’re going to do this fully clothed.”

Lan Wangji swallowed and nodded, moving to do the same. He carefully folded his own and set them on the rock next to Wei Ying’s, pausing a moment to straighten out and fold his husband’s clothes as well, so they wouldn’t sit in a ball.

He turned to find Wei Ying watching him intently.

“Do not grow distracted,” Lan Wangji scolded in a tone probably only Wei Ying knew was teasing, fully aware of the hypocrisy in his words as he approached Wei Ying.

“And here I was thinking distraction is really what this is all about.” Wei Ying settled into a strong form, arms up, and grin wide. “My apologies, husband. I’ll focus.”

They both made what Lan Wangji later decided was a valiant effort to focus on sparring correctly. The familiar zing that had existed since their first swordfight tugged at them and Lan Wangji reveled in it. He wanted to be better than Wei Ying. He wanted to be closer to Wei Ying.

He wanted.

Any focus broke when Wei Ying used some of Lan Wangji’s distraction to pin him to the ground. They breathed together and Lan Wangji took a moment to study his husband’s face - his beautiful dark eyes, the little freckle near his bottom lip. The familiar weight of him, now heavier, healthier under the watchful eye of those who cared for him.

“Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying’s voice was almost a whisper. “Focus.”

He must have visibly frowned, because Wei Ying started to laugh, shaking them both. Lan Wangji wanted to taste the sound and moved to flip them.

The change only made Wei Ying laugh harder. “Is that how this is going to be?” Wei Ying worked to flip them back so he was laying on Lan Wangji again. They managed to do this a few more times, becoming more tangled with each one until Lan Wangji decided he preferred to feel Wei Ying’s weight on him.

Lan Wangji ran his hands up and down Wei Ying’s side before huffing in annoyance.

“What is it?” Wei Ying asked, their faces so close together now.

“Sandy,” Lan Wangji managed, trying to brush some of the roughness from Wei Ying’s clothes and his own hands.

“Hmm, a good point,” Wei Ying pulled back a bit and it was all Lan Wangji could do to stop himself from tugging his husband back close. “Shall we relocate our... sparring?”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji thought that was a very good idea. His husband was very wise.

Wei Ying stood up, pulling Lan Wangji with him. But instead of going to gather their clothes and head back home, Wei Ying tugged him towards the water.

“No,” Lan Wangji said, panting his feet. His husband was very stupid.

“No, no, I know, but we need to get at least some of the sand off,” Wei Ying assured. “Then we can go home and have a bath.”

He took it all back, of course, his husband was a genius. “Alright,” he agreed and Lan Wangji let himself be led into the cool water.

Wei Ying splashed him. The grin hadn’t left his face and Lan Wangji could distract himself from other emotions by feeling content with this fact. It also meant Lan Wangji spotted when it turned mischievous as Wei Ying said, “Lan Zhan, do you think you could catch me?”

“Yes, always.” That should be obvious.

“Aw, Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying protested, covering his face briefly. “You say such kind things. Now I almost feel bad for doing this.”

“Doing what?” Lan Wangji’s tipped his head to one side.

Wei Ying didn’t answer, just backed up a bit before taking a running jump towards him.

Lan Wangji did indeed catch him, but they both tumbled backward into the water with a splash and Wei Ying’s bright laughter. When they surfaced, Wei Ying apologized by peppering Lan Wangji’s face with kisses, so Lan Wangji decided not to take revenge.

This time.

| 2. Wen Qing |

Wen Qing cornered on him at the edge of a pier, eyes stormy. Lan Wangji glanced to see if she had her needles out only to find, just as alarmingly, she was gripping her sword. She was dressed mostly in purples to help her blend in with the Jiang sect, looking just as intimidating as in her Wen red.

Lan Wangji normally got along very well with her and had thought they were friends. This behavior was odd. He wanted to back up some more to get some space from her but worried he might slip right into the water. “How may I help you?” He tried asking instead.

“We need to have a talk,” Wen Qing said, back straight and looking him dead in the eye.

Lan Wangji didn’t like this eye contact. It added a feeling as if she was looking down at him despite his greater height. “Alright. We are talking.”

She pointed her sword hilt at him. “Don’t get smart with me. This is serious.”

“I am becoming aware of this.” Lan Wangji tried to keep his own grip on Bichen relaxed as he could.

“You better not hurt Wei Wuxian,” Wen Qing said, still staring him down when he focused back on her face.

Lan Wangji had a flashback to his first week on Lotus Pier. Jiang Wanyin had done something very similar to this - an obvious threat of harm if anything happened to Wei Ying. Jiang Wanyin had not liked when Lan Wangji had pointed out that it was, in fact, he who had arranged Lan Wangji’s marriage to Wei Ying.

Lan Wangji focused on the matter at hand. “I will not, would never, do something to hurt Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said and it was a promise. He had made it before and he would make it again. “Wei Ying is my equal and my partner.”

Wen Qing nodded and began to look a little less intimidating. “I trust that you will. But I wanted you to know what will happen if you don’t.”

“I am well aware,” Lan Wangji said, and even gave a little smile. “Wei Ying is very loved.” As he should be.

“Good, but don’t get cocky,” she said and then moved quickly.

Lan Wangji had lowered his guard enough that he couldn’t dodge her in time. He had enough forethought to toss Bichen on the pier before he splashed back first into the water. When he surfaced he found Wen Qing was already walking away, apparently deciding Lan Wangji had fully gotten the message.

This was certainly a different outcome to his conversation with Jiang Wanyin.

| 3. Jiang Yanli |

Besides his husband and a-Yuan, Jiang Yanli was the person Lan Wangji spent the most time with. He had found a close friend in his sister-in-law, and appreciated the times when she translated some of the behavior of her brothers.

She, along with Granny Wen, had both begun to teach Lan Wangji how to cook. It was an activity Lan Wangji found relaxing and enjoyable. Lan Wangji found that what he could do and who he could be was something he had more control over as a (married in) member of the Jiang sect than the second young master of the Gusu Lan. This was a thrilling and terrifying fact.

Jiang Yanli was one of the few people who had asked Lan Wangji, “What do you want?”

He wished to repay her kindness and tried to at every turn. During one of the afternoons they spent in quiet, shared company, Lan Wangji noticed she seemed unhappy and unable to sit still. He put away his guqin and moved across the room to her side.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” he asked, offering his hand to help her up. Jiang Yanli gave a small smile, that Lan Wangji knew her well enough to tell was false. It was a falsehood she didn’t want pushed on though - sometimes she reminded Lan Wangji of Xichen. He was pulled from any feeling of homesickness by Jiang Yanli’s small hand briefly on his own.

“A walk sounds lovely,” Jiang Yanli murmured. “I need to clear out my thoughts.”

Together they moved from her rooms. Wei Ying was somewhere checking on vegetable growth and checking up on the Wen refugees. Sometimes Lan Wangji would go with him, other days, like today, he would go off with one or both of the Wen siblings. That was when he visited Wen refugees (no doubt cultivators) that he didn’t want Lan Wangji to have to lie to his brother about.

“Summer is going to come to a close before we know it,” Jiang Yanli commented. “I think you will like the lotus harvest.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji said, glancing over at her. She seemed to relax as they walked. “Do you want to talk?”

Jiang Yanli sighed, though she didn’t seem upset by his question. “It’s complicated.”

Lan Wangji assumed as much. He also was pretty sure this was a matter Jiang Yanli would not wish to talk about with either of her brothers. “Is it about the letter you received from Lanling?”

Jiang Yanli almost winced. “You noticed it?”

“I did not mean to pry,” Lan Wangji assured. “But the paper and seal are similar to what my brother used to receive.”

“Ah,” was all she said for a long time.

They continued to walk, moving from the pier and past the training grounds. There were paths throughout the nearby forest, intended for training and hunting but worked well to get some space.

“I don’t think Jin Zixuan had anything to do with the cruelty against the Wen civilians.” The words were frustrated, not in Jiang Yanli’s usually calm and thoughtful manner.

Lan Wangji could sympathize with the frustration of knowing the one you loved wasn’t being understood. “I do not believe he did either.”

Jiang Yanli grabbed his arm, looking up at him with wide eyes. She quickly let go but stayed close, halting their progress. “You don’t?”

Lan Wangji nodded, not sure what else to do to assure her. “When I was younger, often at cultivation conferences we would... both stay out of the way. I got to know him a little bit. I did not engage in many conversations, but from what I have observed, I have seen no cruelty from Jin Zixuan.” Pride and disdain, yes, but Lan Wangji had experienced the same faults.

“That’s a relief to hear,” Jiang Yanli smiled again, small but real this time. She turned back to continue walking and Lan Wangji matched her pace. “I trust your judgment.”

“I am flattered.”

“You saw a-Xian for who he is,” Jiang Yanli said. “That certainly says something to me.”

They walked for some steps more in silence. “What do you want to do?” Lan Wangji asked.

Jiang Yanli focused on the ground ahead of her. “I don’t know...”

“Do you care for Jin Zixuan?”

“Yes, but I care more for my family and the work we are doing here,” Jiang Yanli sighed again. “It doesn't seem like these two things line up.”

“You could let Jin Zixuan know that there is a space for him here,” Lan Wangji suggested. “Give him the choice.” Not making his offer for Wei Ying to come back to Gusu sound like a choice seemed to be what backfired on him. Lan Wangji could pass along what he had learned.

Jiang Yanli nodded. “That’s a good idea...”

“I am sure there would be a place for him,” Lan Wangji encouraged. “...I could talk to Wei Ying if Jin Zixuan accepts.”

Jiang Yanli laughed at that, as they turned to walk back towards home. “Yes, maybe if you broke the news to him, he’d behave.”

“He just wants you to be happy,” Lan Wangji said, though he didn’t really need to defend Wei Ying to her. “It is a sentiment shared.”

“Thank you,” Jiang Yanli said. “I’m glad to have you as a brother-in-law.”

Lan Wangji wasn’t sure what to say to that. But it warmed him to have Jiang Yanli as a friend. As a part of his family.

They spent the rest of the walk back in companionable silence until they reached where ground turned back to pier. Jiang Yanli paused then and turned to him with a smile. “You’ve become something of another brother to me,” she said.

Lan Wangji inclined his head. “I am honored.”

“Now there is something of a right of passage to being my brother, I hope you don’t mind terribly. Just a matter of formality.” Her smile had some mischief to it. “See as the eldest, I get to push you into the river.”

Lan Wangji couldn’t come up with a response fast enough to that before he was indeed pushed into the water.

| 4. Luo Qingyang |

Lotus Pier had been rebuilt larger, to accommodate the number of people who had come to call it home. Lan Wangji and Wei Ying shared rooms to one side, and nearby Granny Wen had been settled with her son, who just insisted everyone call him Uncle. A-Yuan now had a bedroom in each and seemed happy to call the entirety of the Pier home.

On the opposite side, Jiang Yanli had her rooms, with an open and airy living space that had become a communal gathering area. Near her but more towards the back were the Wen siblings.

Lan Wangji might never fully understand the man, but he had to acknowledge that Jiang Wanyin took good care of his siblings and those his siblings deemed important. Lan Wangji was sure the sect leader was trying to figure out where to put the newest addition.

Luo Qingyang had shown up ten days ago and seemed to be in no hurry to leave. She had been traveling on her own, assisting in small night hunts, since she had left the Jins. But she wanted to take a break and had “heard that Yunmeng was the place to be.”

Lan Wangji couldn’t say how true that was, but it had certainly endeared her to Jiang Wanyin. In fact, Luo Qingyang, or “Mianmian” as Wei Ying insisted on calling her, made fast friends with everyone on Lotus Pier from Granny Wen, to the new Jiang disciples, to a-Yuan.

Lan Wangji certainly found her pleasant company and someone it was easy for him to talk with.

They were walking back from the training field when she asked, “I watched Jiang Cheng toss your husband in the water this morning,”

“Mn.” Lan Wangji had been showing a-Yuan how he played the guqin, so he hadn’t witnessed this particular event. “It is usually a form of affection.”

“That’s how they show affection? By pushing people in the water?” Luo Qingyang sounded confused but intrigued. Lan Wangji could understand this feeling.

“Yes. Though it can also be a form of punishment,” Lan Wangji explained. “It can be hard to tell which it is being used as.”

She laughed. “Of course, of course. This is making me wish the rules were written down like in your sect.”

Lan Wangji understood that feeling at an almost painful level. “All rules are unwritten and flexible. Except for the one against insulting someone’s soup.” This was mostly a joke.

Luo Qingyang shook her head, chuckling some more. “Noted. So shoving someone into the water could be seen as a declaration of friendship?”

“Yes, I suppose-” That was all the warning he got before he found himself falling with a splash.

He surfaced to find Luo Qingyang laughing, nearly doubled over. It wasn’t a mean laugh... it was actually nice. She thought him a friend, not someone intimidating or cold. She peeked over at him and said, “Sorry, sorry. Here, let me help you up.”

Lan Wangji gripped her offered hand and raised his brows. Luo Qingyang realized her mistake a moment too late and let out a yelping laugh as Lan Wangji tugged her into the water as well.

[buckstaposition]

I cling to your lips like gloss (4)

a Javier Peña x OFC story

also on AO3

tags&warnings: spoilers for S3 eps1+2 mainly, some for later episodes also; mention of drug use; brief description of a panic attack; sleazy David Rodríguez is sleazy; somewhat liberal use of the f-word and also other swearing; reference to past canon character deaths; this blog is CIA station chief Bill Stechner-phobic to the max; most non-graphic, vaguest possible reference to sex (to when Javi goes home with that lady in episode 1); oblivious mutual pining; idiots with zero emotional self-awareness; domesticity

word count: 15.435 (I’m sorry, here are some snacks 🍌🥨🧁🥤)

summary: Diana goes into the lions’ den. Javier is not having a good time. No one gets enough sleep.

tag list & author’s notes have been moved to the bottom. let me just say sorry this took me so long and I hope you’re all well and healthy and happy holidays and may the new year be better for all of us 

Masterlist

Prologue • Chapter 1 - The Informant • Chapter 2 - A Wedding and Four Funerals  • Chapter 3 -  Swallow Pride and Anger

Chapter 4 - Prime Numbers

Franklin Jurado, Diana thinks, is a bit of an ass. It's not even that he happily, willingly, goes around laundering narcos' blood money, or that he gets rich off that himself. In this moment, it's mostly the way he dismissively rolls his eyes and can barely keep the contempt out of his voice when arguing with her about Maltese vs Caymanian tax loopholes. Like she's an idiot for actually reading the laws, spotty as they are. 

On top of everything, it's keeping her in her office well past the time she was meaning to start getting changed and dolled up for the grand party that night, and she feels a pressure headache of annoyance building behind her temples to boot. 

She's this close to bludgeoning the man with her stapler when an insistent knock sounds at the door, followed by a blonde head poking in. The blonde lady starts speaking in rapid English, too abrupt for Diana's brain to keep up with what is being said, but she instinctively recognized the tone of a husband being reamed out with righteous indignation and if nothing else, it gives her a certain kind of vindication. 

"Hi, I'm Christina Jurado. Just Christina is fine. Pleasure to meet you!" The other woman now stepped fully into her office, holding out her hand and smiling just a tad too brightly. 

"Diana...Galindo." Why she'd chosen to be known here under her married name is anyone's guess. Perhaps it was mostly a matter of having grown used to it. Perhaps it allowed her to pretend that this wasn't quite her, just an act to be put on for a greater purpose. That helping drug cartel bosses hide their blood money from the tax man and signing off on their henchmen's paychecks was something that Diana Teresa Artemisia Rivas Rincón would not be caught dead doing, no matter the circumstances. "Pleased to meet you." 

"Franklin, we'll be late!" the other woman throws over her shoulder. Rather pointedly, too. 

"We're not done discussing-" 

"I don't care, Franklin!" There's a moment of very animated eye contact, the kind of wordless back-and-forth that she'd dreamt of developing with Juan Mateo but that they never quite managed. Just another little detail that ultimately spelled the end of their marriage. "Actually, why don't your ride with us?" 

"I, um-" Diana instinctively reached to adjust the wire she'd been wearing for most of the day (to get used to the feeling and not inadvertently betray herself later), only catching herself in the last moment and fidgeting with the collar on her blouse instead. "I- Felipe was supposed to drive me. I need to get ready still, too." 

"Eh, he can tag along. What are you wearing? Do you have your dress here?" She did. There was no arguing with Christina, but no malice in her overbearing imperiousness either. Nonetheless, Diana tried to argue, if only for politeness' sake. How she wouldn't want to impose. That it wasn't a problem, since Miguel Rodríguez had very kindly arranged for her transportation in the form of the afore-mentioned Felipe. Mrs Jurado waved it all off. And perhaps the obvious annoyance in Franklin Jurado's eyes gave her a little push. Say what one might about the Rodríguez brothers, but at least neither of them had ever questioned her professional expertise. 

Before she knows what hit her, the three of them are sailing out of the building and towards the cars parked out front. Well, Christina is sailing, while Franklin and Diana are trotting along behind her and shooting each other sour looks. It's the kind of wrathful indignation that she hadn't felt since second grade, when Bruno Moreno had pulled her pigtails and stolen her pencil. Christina seemed unperturbed, ordering the drivers around in her accented but surprisingly decent Spanish. Felipe caught Diana's eye, wringing his hands and questions in his eye. 

"It seems I will be riding with Mr and Mrs Jurado. Perhaps you'd be kind enough to follow us to their hotel and then take my work clothes back to the office after I've changed? I'd hate to have to lug around my stuff or leave it lying around somewhere. You'd be a great help this way, and as far as I'm concerned, you can go straight home after that." 

"Of course, ma'am." He nodded, seeming relieved by the clear instructions. Diana smiled and handed off her garment bag to the Jurados' driver. 

The drive itself could have been more awkward, what with being caged in the back of this limousine with two strangers, one of whom all but openly despised her and spent his time pouting after his wife had told him in no uncertain terms that if a single word of work talk left his lips she'd shove him out the door and into oncoming traffic. Luckily she also had made it her personal mission to pack half an evening's worth of small talk into the barely twenty-minute-ride. 

The Jurados' suite was grand, the lounge alone bigger than the house Diana had grown up in. She was still trying not to show how out of place she felt among all the marble and gilded edges when Christina steered her towards the back, still prattling on in a way that the DEA would have a lot of fun picking through when they got the recording from her wire. 

"Ugh, this place is so... Sorry, we wanted the president's suite, but one of the North Valley people snatched it up. Their... Who is he, Franklin? That unpleasant little man - is he the leader of the pack? With the young woman we saw when we checked in. Was that his wife?" 

"Salazar." Franklin muttered, his face curdling into a deeper frown. At least Diana wasn't at the top of his most hated list, apparently. "Yeah, I think so honey." 

"She looked awfully young." 

"I'm sure we'll meet them all at the party." 

"Something to look forward to." Christina grimaced and pulled Diana into the spacious bathroom, settling her down in front of a gigantic vanity mirror. 

"Alright, what are we doing with you?" Diana looked at her own wide-eyed reflection staring back at her while Christina started pulling her hair free from the simple clip she'd used to hold it up. 

"I, uh-" Diana pushed her glasses back up her nose and frowned. "I have contact lenses." She gestured vaguely towards her reflection. She had also packed a small bag with the handful of make-up items she owned, but lack of practice didn't exactly serve to make her adept at using them. Christina grinned excitedly, her whitened teeth shining. "Well no, that won't do! Hang on." 

She sprung up and rushed towards the door, only stopping when she reached her husband who had lingered there, leaning against the frame.  

"Hey you." For a moment, they softened, stealing a small kiss amid halted momentum. Diana ached to witness it. "Hey yourself." 

"Go get changed." Christina smiled, kissing his cheek as she brushed past to dive into her suitcase. 

"You're telling me? Don't take too long, we're on a schedule here." The words were softened by his tender expression, and as she walked past on her way back he reeled her in for another, deeper kiss. Diana pretended to be very invested in not poking her eyeballs out. Well, half-pretended. Putting in contact lenses was another thing she wasn't exactly used to. When she'd finally managed to fumble the second lens onto her eyeball, Franklin had long left and closed the door. 

Without further ado, Christina set to work. Within moments, the marble counter was covered with various cosmetics and the other woman's eager hands set to work. Diana had no choice but to submit. Thankfully again, it was Christina who shouldered the bulk of the conversation. 

"So, I did notice you're not wearing a wedding band, Mrs Galindo." Diana's eyes were closed, as her eyeshadow was currently being blended, but she did stiffen and instinctively her other hand went to touch where her ring had been. "Oh damn, I hope that wasn't- He's not tragically deceased, is he?" 

"No, we're...separated. Divorcing. It's... it's dragging on, to be honest. I've learned more about Colombian marriage law in the past year than I ever wanted to know." She tried to diffuse with a joke, but it didn't quite land. 

"Sorry, you must think me so rude. We only just met and here I am acting like we're friends!" She bit out in a jarring departure from her hitherto genial tone. "Anyway, I admire you. That can't have been easy what with how...uh-"

"...Catholic this country is?" Diana supplied, clasping the other woman's hands in hers with a slight smile. Christina huffed in relief. "Yes, I suppose. It's just... it's so hard. Marriage I mean. Sometimes I don't even know how to bear it." Her gaze fell towards the bathroom door that Franklin had closed behind himself upon leaving. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she continued. "How did you even know you couldn't go on like this?" 

Diana gulped, hating what she was about to do. Resenting, for a moment, women like Gabriela who only had to sell a bit of their time and acess to their bodies to these people. She felt like she was selling away her soul every single day. 

"Mrs Jurado-"

"Christina. Please, you can call me Christina."

"Christina, let me be honest. I never truly loved my husband, and he didn't love me. We liked each other and it was convenient, and expected, to get married. And in the end that proved to not be enough. But from what little I have seen, that's not something you and your husband have to contend with. Even if things are hard, as long as there is love you can overcome them. You have to believe in that." 

Christina choked out a tearful little laugh, like in spite of herself. 

"Oh God, good thing I haven't put on mascara yet. You're making me all dewy-eyed." She chuckled, then threw her arms around Diana and gave her a tight squeeze. "Thank you. Really." 

"Of course," Diana awkwardly patted the other woman's back, thankful that she wasn't currently facing the mirror, "and I would be happy to become your friend." Whatever ice had remained between the two women was broken after that. Christina perked up and returned to chatting animatedly, finishing her make-up, doing up her hair in a very elegant twisted bun, and gushing over her dress.

"Do you have any jewelry to go with it?"

"Not really, no. I only ever wear this." Diana indicated the thin silver chain around her neck. Christina tutted. 

"Well, that just won't do. Wait, let me just-" An impatient knock at the door interrupted her. "Oh dear, looks like we're running late."

Diana saw a chance to get a moment alone and suggested they each get dressed quickly, and separately, lest they waste any more time and husbandly nerves with their chatter. 

"Okay, but holler if you need help with the zipper or anything." 

Diana had never squeezed into a garment faster, glad that she had chosen to put on the wire device that morning already. She tugged the actual wire tight around her body where it had loosened over the course of the day, then shimmied into the underdress she'd brought in the hopes that it would conceal any suspicious bumps or lines. She had almost wrestled the zipper into its final position when Christina knocked and entered, quickly getting the last inch or so with a comment of how husbands were useful for some things. 

"Anyway, I thought these would suit you." Christina presented an opened velvet case. Sitting inside it was a jewelry set, sapphires with diamonds set in gold. Real ones, judging by the Cartier labelling embossed into the velvet. A necklace, earrings, bracelet and ring, all fancier and more ostentacious than anything Diana had ever set eyes on. Immediately, her palms started sweating. 

"Oh, I couldn't possibly-" 

"Nonsense." Christina cut her off, placing the case down and snatching the bracelet and Diana's wrist. "You'll look so pretty and expensive. You can return them to me later, we'll be in town until Tuesday." Having clasped the bracelet around her wrist, she now moved on to the earrings. "Maybe we could get coffee on the weekend or something." 

"I'd like that." Diana lied. Christina smiled at her brightly. "Great! I just need to ...uh, freshen up a moment." Taking the hint, Diana gathered up her things and stepped outside, awkwardly holding her bag of of work clothes to give to Felipe down in the hotel lobby. Franklin was standing by a sideboard, boredly rifling through a magazine. 

"Mrs Galindo." He acknowledged. For a split second, he looked like he wanted to add something, but caught himself. Diana followed his gaze towards the closed bathroom door, behind which low noises of shuffling and splashing water could be heard. 

"How long have you two been married?" She had no idea how this information might help the investigation, but determined that wasn't for her to worry about. Franklin sighed, gaze still fixed on the door and absent. 

"Seven years now." He finally tore his eyes away from the door and let them flit over her briefly, catching on the borrowed jewels but electing not to comment on it. "They say the seventh year is the hardest, don't they?" 

"I wouldn't know. I never made it that far." Though if Juan Mateo didn't pull his head out of his ass soon she would spend the seventh year still technically married. The thought made her frown. 

Before either of them had to search for more overburdened smalltalk, the bathroom door blessedly clicked open and Christina emerged with a wide grin and a spring to her step, her eyes just a smidgeon glassy and too bright. Diana politely pretended not to see the remnants of fine white powder that Franklin surreptitiously wiped from her nose and upper lip. --- They arrived not exactly on time but not fashionably late either. There's a line of cars already plugging up the driveway to the sprawling estate, stringed lights illuminating against the darkening sky. They got out and sauntered towards the two-storey villa, the Jurados up front and Diana trailing behind like the kid that's finally allowed to come along to the fancy family outings. Her dress hadn't felt this tight in the store, or at any point afterwards, until just now. 

"Franklin! I'm so glad you're finally here! Mrs Jurado, it's a pleasure." Diana can only just contain the flinch at the sound of this voice, and before long Miguel Rodríguez turns to her with one of his bright, self-satisfied smiles. "Mrs Galindo, I'm so glad you could come. We need to introduce you to the rest of the guys! It's been too long!" 

He has his arm around her shoulders within the same breath, exuberant and steering her through the scattered throngs of people at a pace that doesn't even allow for snatching a champagne flute from one of the waiters floating around. She plastered on a fake demure smile. The 'invitation' hadn't exactly been a matter of mere suggestion. 

Miguel led them to a dainty pagoda that sat a comfortable distance from the pool and most of the din and chatter of the other guests, nestled between the luscious greenery of the large garden. Diana could hear the mumbled whispers of the Jurados behind her, Miguel's droning on of meaningless small talk that she barely paid attention to. She could see Gilberto's back, his stature dwarfed almost comically by that of a much larger and broader man sat to his side, with short silver hair that gleamed in the low light. 

"Gentlemen, I believe we are complete!" Miguel boomed, ushering her up the few steps and into the circle. 

"Mrs Galindo, what a pleasure!" Gilberto shot up and made a show of shaking her hand and pulling her close to present her to the rest of the ...associates. 

"Now I believe you've not yet met these fine gentlemen. Pacho Herrera, Diana Galindo." Pacho stood and took her hand gingerly, his face impassive and tone painstakingly polite and neutral. "My pleasure."

"Mr Herrera." Diana replied, heart thumping up into her throat. They'd not so much met as passed each other in front of offices or meeting rooms a handful of times, his tightly coiled, jaguar-like energy always seeming just a smidge out of place in those blandly corporate spaces. 

"And here's Chepe, came all the way down from New York especially!" The large man with the silver hair stood to his full impressive height, snatching her hand with a wolfish grin and dropping a just-too-moist kiss on the back of it with a wink. Diana did her utmost not to flinch. For just a moment, she regretted the moment she'd taken off her ring and put it in front of a shocked Juan Mateo on their kitchen table before leaving their shared apartment. It was moments like these that she missed the protection it had afforded her from some unwanted advances. 

Pallomari was last, balding and skittish, with huge owl-eye glasses not unlike the first pair she'd ever had. 

"Mrs Galindo, how interesting to finally put a face to the name." He greeted, sounding painfully rehearsed. Diana returned with some meaningless pleasantry, hyper-aware of the wiretap device against her skin. She wondered whether it even picked up anything apart from the thundering of her heart. 

"So, about your big announcement-" Miguel began once everyone was settled into a seat with a drink in hand. Gilberto cut him off almost immediately.

"Now, now brother, let's enjoy the party a bit beforehand." A look passed between them, a challenge issued and accepted, until Miguel turned his gaze away with a barely concealed snarl. Gilberto leaned back in his seat, glass raised with a smug and triumphant smirk. "Let's just say that I have made an important investment into our future. We will continue to thrive, but more importantly, we will be safe. Our families will be safe." 

With that cryptic remark, he threw back his drink, expression melting from jovial to grim. The ensuing silence made the hair on the back of Diana's neck stand up, a feat she wouldn't have thought possible with the amount of hairspray Christina had encased her head in. 

"He's dead, Pablo's dead." Miguel reached over where she was squished between the two men, squeezing his brother's arm in reassurance. "He's gone and we helped bring him down." 

"We did. This country should build us monuments, instead they issue arrest warrants!" Gilberto bit out, pouring himself another glass of whiskey. 

"To Pablo Escobar, may he forever rot in hell!" Chepe bellowed, glass raised high. They all joined in. Diana thought of her father. How he'd done her hair and walked her to school every morning and tucked her in with a new story every night when she was a girl. How, during her first year of university when she'd been so lonely and homesick she broke down crying, he'd taken precious time off work and taken a night bus to come visit her in Bogotá for a weekend. How her heart still split down the middle whenever she so much as thought of the crash that killed him. But the gentlemen didn't need to know that she despised them just as much as she did Escobar, not yet anyway. So, she raised her champagne alongside and joined her voice in the chorus of gleeful condemnation. - She'd just escaped Christina and the gaggle of wives for a moment, excusing herself to the restrooms. What the DEA might glean from their inane chatter, she couldn't possibly fathom. She was glad that she was free of them for a moment, and that disecting the recording wasn't her problem to deal with. On her way into the house, she must have passed by at least two dozen important and powerful people. There were a few handfuls of representatives, a number of mayors, at least two senators, an attorney general and an army general. No one she'd ever voted for, at least. And those were just the ones she'd managed to get Miguel to introduce to her, or her to them - either way, she'd made sure to repeat every name as clearly as possible for the recording. 

Rounding the last corner in from the veranda, she all but ran into Salcedo. 

"Mrs Galindo." His tone was clipped as ever. She wasn't sure whether he might be suspicious of her in particular, or whether it was a general thing and he was just like that. 

"Mr Salcedo." She nodded, tone painstakingly polite. He set her teeth on edge, always so stiff-backed with that serpent edge to him; in a ranking of people within the cartel who had this effect on her he would probably come in about third. She wondered what Javier- what Agent Peña would make of the man. "What brings you here, Mrs Galindo?" Or perhaps he just didn't like her for some reason. Which was very much a mutual sentiment. Not that she held particular sympathies for anyone here. 

"To the restroom?" *Take a wild guess, buddy*, she thought, one eyebrow arching with clear condescension. 

"To the...house." 

"The restroom." She resisted rolling her eyes. As much as she may personally dislike Miguel's chief of security, purposely antagonizing him was probably a bad idea. And yet, petty temptation beckoned in every nook and cranny. Like the sideboard they were currently standing in front of that displayed a solid bronze statue of a very rotund dancing couple. "To marvel at the Botero, naturally." 

Salcedo's eyes followed her nod towards the heavy bronze. "It's genuine, you know." He said it not in the tone of an art aficionado, but rather in the crudely suggestive one of a third-rate telenovela detective trying to be slick by not outright asking if she meant to steal it. 

"Of course, Mr Rodríguez wouldn't stand for anything less." The thing was half her size and probably twice as heavy, what was he thinking? Himself a master at subtle insinuation, probably. Or that being poor and growing up in the comunas naturally meant she had sticky fingers. Uptight, hoity-toity middle class prick. Like his employers weren't internationally wanted criminals of the highest degree. The audacity of it!  

His mouth was already halfway open to retort when his name being yelled from outside made both of them turn. David Rodríguez hung onto the veranda door, snapping at Salcedo that his father wanted him for something, and pronto. Diana could practically hear his teeth grind in irritation, but he schooled his face into a carefully blank facade before he gave David a nod. 

"Ma'am." Salcedo gave in and moved, squeezing by David. David purposefully did not budge, instead giving her a leery once-over before following after the other man. 

Diana fled into the bathroom down the hall in a manner she hoped looked urgent rather than as panicked as she felt inside. She held it together until the lock slid closed, and then she was crouched on the floor, curled up and heavy breathing into her hands. The small pressure point of the wire recorder thingy felt like a ton weight against her chest and her heart was beating so fast she could feel it everywhere. 

Hyperventilating. You're hyperventilating, her brain supplied unhelpfully, and she almost laughed at herself. She wished she wasn't here all on her own, wished she had at least one of those spy devices in her ear for some moral support, tried to recall the exact feeling of Agent Peña's hands on her shoulders, warm and grounding. One hand remained up, muffling the desperate breaths and whimpers from her mouth, while the other dropped, thumb dipping underneath the fabric at her chest to brush soothingly across her collarbone. It worked...to a degree. A very small degree. What she would give to at least have the deep, comforting rumble of his voice, or the way he'd held her close after the festival. Did he even know how calming his presence was? It always seemed to work on her, in wrath and anxiety both (something that Juan Mateo had never been able to affect unless it was to irritate her more). So much so that now even just focusing on it was enough to help her pull herself together. 

The guest restroom was bigger than her childhood room had been and, of course, looked more like it belonged in some fancy hotel. All warm-toned marble and matte gold appliances. The mirror was huge and its frame, naturally, also gold. What was it with rich people's obsession with gold? 

"Okay." Diana said to her reflection, then went to work freshening up. Carefully, she wiped away the smudged mascara under her eyes and reapplied her lipstick where it had come off on her drink earlier. She stuck her hands underneath her dress to check on the recording device, concerned that a wire had shaken loose or something, but the small rectangular container still sat right snug right against her sternum. She gave it an absent tap and adjusted the microphone bit so it sat just below the seam of her collar again. 

"I hope you'll get something worthwhile from this because I am never doing this again." A knock on the door nearly sent her into cardiac arrest. Diana swore under her breath, then called out that she'd only be a moment. 

"Sorry," an apologetic female voice came from the other side of the door, "You've been in there a while, is all. Are you alright? I have an aspirin in my purse if you need it." 

Diana stopped dabbing at her still damp eyes and tried to determine whether her near panic attack was the sole reason her vision was still a bit hazy. She could count the times she'd been out without her glasses on one hand. 

"Oh no it's just-," she crossed over and unlocked the door to find a young, very pretty and very concerned looking woman on the other side, "I just had some trouble with my contact lenses. They're awfully fiddly." She stepped back and opened the door wider. "All yours." 

"Oh I don't-" She looked down the hallway, further into the house, her eyes widening slightly when she caught sight of something or someone outside of Diana's field of vision. "Actually, I think I need to...uh, powder my nose or something." 

The door fell into its lock the same moment the younger woman had stepped into the room, not giving Diana a chance to leave. Not that she was over-eager to get back outside and mingle with the corrupt and criminal. That and the discomfort and anxiety hung around the other woman like a cloud. Diana made up her mind, sitting down on one of the plush benches in the room. 

"I'm not a big fan of parties either." She stated, voice careful and soft. The other woman stood, unsure and tugging at the short hem of her dress. 

"I wish they could just open the buffet already. My husband is three drinks in and he gets-" She trembled. No, shuddered. Diana patted the space beside her on the bench, a gentle invitation. 

"It's alright, we can stay here for a little bit. I'm Diana." 

"Maria." She stuck out her hand, which was also still trembling slightly. "Maria Salazar." --- By the time the two of them dared venture outside again, there was indeed, finally!, food to be had. Diana pulled Maria along to the relative safety of the gaggle of wives, busy amusing themselves while their husbands dealt with their important business matters. But then, the bandleader announced that the dancefloor was now officially open and started off with a spirited selection of the finest Colombian rhythms of the past twenty years. One by one the wives were collected to fill said dancefloor, leaving Diana sitting alone at the table with the sad remnants of various canapees and salads. Here was another occasion where she didn't miss Juan Mateo. Or his two left feet. Idly, she turned the near-empty cocktail glass between her fingers and wondered whether Javier danced, or could at least be persuaded to try. 

"You don't dance?" David appeared so suddenly that she almost spilled the last bit of her drink. She remembered his leering earlier, forced her face not to flinch until she had raised the glass and could hide her  expression of distaste behind a sip of the overly sweet and fruity cocktail. Hummed non-committally and hoping against hope that he'd grow bored and leave. Of course, she had no such luck. 

"Oh, whom with? Everyone's paired up already." Sip again. The glass had another three or four in it, if she stretched it smartly enough. "I'm afraid third-wheeling is the unenviable fate of divorcees." How old was this boy anyway? She must have ten years on him, at the very least. But apparently he'd got it into his head that he must prove to himself what a man he was, and how irresistible. At least he had the good sense not to try anything with the wives of any of the powerful men present. 

"Dance with me." David stated. Ah, bingo. He might have at least pretended to ask, she thought sourly. "I insist." 

Of course you do, you entitled brat. "It would be my pleasure." She lies, as most politeness is lies, here in these circles comprised of snakes. Fakes a smile the way she's been taught to by this world, so easy to act and conceal the disdain underneath. It doesn't falter even when his hand, clammy and slightly sweaty, settles way too low for comfort or propriety on her hip. She resolves to step on his feet - accidentally - at least twice. 

David Rodríguez was not what one would call a skilled dancer. At first, Diana had been thankful that the band wasn't playing any slow songs yet, but it had taken approximately half of 'Bamboleo' to dispel the hope that this would keep David's hands from wandering. Well, if she was stuck here she might as well try to get some intel out of him. 

...It takes about two and a half songs - the band now switching to their international collection - to determine that this route of inquiry is absolutely doomed and David completely useless. Doesn't know any business particulars, and doesn't care to. Too distracted with trying to put some moves on her, which she steadfastly ignores. Well, if details of her failed marriage and dragging divorce aren't enough to discourage him, she's got another one up her sleeve. Not to mention she's been curious ever since the gaggle of wives had made their introductions earlier. 

"You're not married." She leaves the 'yet' unsaid, hanging in the air between them as heavy insinuation. 

"If I were, would I be dancing with you?" A faithful husband, and in these circles at that? What a novel idea. Diana almost snorted out loud. Left it at a telling look that seemed to go over his head completely. Doesn't have the energy to dissect how a dance with a friend or acquaintance at a party isn't exactly on par with, say, the juridical definition of adultery. Which brings her mind back to the tedium of having to explain to various lawyers, notaries, judges that no, her husband wasn't a cheating pig who drank and beat her, and that there were a multitude of quieter reasons why marriages failed. 

"I have been wondering, though, where the third of the Mrs Rodríguezes belongs. Besides your mother and your aunt." She nodded over at the three women in question, one dancing with either Rodríguez brother, the third being currently twirled about by Chepe and looking a bit motion sick from it. 

"My mother is dead." Ah, shit. Diana faltered, and this time the graze of her heel on his shoe really was entirely accidental. Something in David's eyes shuttered and hardened, gaze for once lifting from her body and darkly fixing on his father. "They're all my uncle's wives." 

"Oh. Oh!" Diana's mouth falls open. Of all things she could have expected, this was certainly not one. "That's um... That sounds, uh..." Illegal, but then again, what did a bit of consensual polygamy matter in the grand scheme of things, she supposed. 

"You sound so scandalized. Didn't think he had it in him, didn't you?" David smirked, tightening his grip on her back again and leading her in a turn. 

"No, I'm just...wondering...about the, um...time management...aspect." In fairness, that was one of the things she did wonder about. David laughed, bringing her in closer. 

"Each gets two days per week and Sundays he has them come all together and sit there while he watches sports." 

How thrilling. "Whatever works for them, I suppose." 

Diana tried to subtly twist away again. She wasn't going to get anything else from this, what with David already being bored and growing increasingly impatient. And she didn't have an escape plan that didn't consist of ramming her heel into him somewhere until she struck bone. 

"Damn, can't they play something from this decade?" He whined as 'Money, money, money' faded into 'Knowing me, knowing you'. "All of this ancient stuff-" Sensing another chance to subtly nudge him away from his inexplicable sudden attraction, Diana jumped. "Oh I quite like it," she remarked lightly. Now go in for the kill "Reminds me of my youth." 

David harrumphed, then grunted as her heel dug into his toes again. "Oh dear, so sorry." Diana said breezily,  forcing his hand up from where it had been creeping towards her ass with a deft twirl. 

"It's fine." He gritted. "Did you want to-" 

"Allow me to cut in." Herrera stepped up, lightly shoving David aside to take his place. "I've not had the pleasure yet, Mrs Galindo." Diana forced a smile as his hand settled at her waist. Pro: at least this one wouldn't spend the whole time trying to feel her up. Con: not being thus distracted, he might notice...something. And become suspicious. If he wasn't already. Truth be told, Herrera scared her almost as much as Navegante did. Sometimes more so. 

"Right, well this is a very tight dress, so I can't do any adventurous moves." She warned, plastering an apologetic expression onto her face. Thankfully the band had changed to a faster track, though they kept with the international flair of the selection. Next up was some Brazil, if she wasn't mistaken. David stood between the twirling couples for a long moment, glaring but not daring to do or say anything that might affront his father's business partner. She shot him a fake apologetic smile, but suspected it was more the insistent raised eyebrow from Herrera that ultimately got him to scurry. 

Pacho Herrera could dance, that much was undeniable. Under different circumstances she might have even enjoyed this. He was also unnervingly quiet. If the purpose of this was to unsettle her, his tactic was very successful. At this rate, just keeping her feet under her proved to be challenge enough. One could think the band had launched into a Tarantella, given the speed they were going. Her head swam from the quick succession of turns and twirls, and when he dipped her upon the song's grand climax, her heart stopped for a variety of reasons. One of them being that she thought she felt some of her concealed wiring dislodge. 

"I think your dress is not too tight after all, Mrs Galindo." He pulled back up and righted her again, blessedly stilling a moment while the band segued into a mellower number. Diana gulped in a few deep, unladylike breaths. 

"No trust me, it is." She was still catching her breath; meanwhile he didn't even have a single hair out of place. Unfair. "So," Diana began her feeble attempt to bring the situation back under some semblance of control, "Are you interested in... tax exemptions?" Apparently humans could wheeze and cringe simultaneously. Very interesting. Herrera didn't answer immediately, just started leading her back into a mellow sway. 

"I think you're interested enough for all of us, Mrs Galindo. Miguel showed us the figures earlier. Very impressive. I see why DIAN recruited you right out of university." How he made what was ostensibly a compliment sound like a threat, Diana didn't know, just that it did nothing for her heart rate. 

"Thank you." He spun her out along with a flourish from the brass section, turning her already shaky voice into a squeak. She really hoped the recording had not picked that up. After the spin, his hand slid up over  her back, before settling back on her waist. To her horror, something in Pacho's expression twisted and he pulled her closer, hand splaying over her mid-back again. So much for avoiding being fondled for one dance. 

"What's this?" 

"Oh, I don't want to bore you with the details of women's undergarments. Suffice to say I'm wearing an insane amount of Spanx right now." 

There was a prolonged moment, during which Diana tried to keep her cool while deciding how much of a scene she was willing to cause should he not let it rest. Normally none at all, then again it was her life on the line. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, Mr Rodríguez requests you make your way to the equestrian ring for the big announcement." 

Never in her life had Diana welcomed an interruption like at this very moment. Herrera hesitated for a split second, expression still unreadable, before joining the throngs of people set in motion. He grasped her hand firmly, looping it through his elbow until it rested on his forearm, where he pinned it with his other hand. Just unconspicuous enough to look polite to any onlooker, just forceful enough that she knew she couldn't free herself without obvious struggle. 

"He could have done this up on the other stage." Miguel grumbled when they reached him, standing off the side to the stage that had been set up in the area. 

"You know how he is, Miguel. Always has to have his way." The two men exchanged a glance around her while more people filed past. 

"Mrs Galindo." 

Diana hummed in acknowledgement, returned the meaningless pleasantries. Yes of course she was enjoying herself. What a lovely party. The music? Exhilarating. The buffet? Exquisite. Her divorce? Ugh. She would really prefer not to think about that right now, thank you very much. 

"It's next Thursday, right? Your court appointment?" 

"Yes, thank you for letting me combine this with a work trip to Barranquilla. It's my personal business after all." 

"Of course, we want you at your best. Undistracted. Unburdened." Diana almost laughed, barely managed to suppress the snort and cover it with clearing her throat. 

"I thought that had all gone through ages ago." Herrera remarked lightly, grip finally easing up some from her wrist. Diana sighed. 

"I'm divorced, as far as I'm concerned. I moved out, signed my papers. I don't know what he thinks he's doing. I'm not going back to him. This obstinate little tantrum isn't helping his case anyway." Countless hours spent arguing with various legal professionals flashed before her eyes. "It's a very tedious process."

"It's a very catholic country." Pacho said, somewhere between wistful and embittered. She used his momentary distraction to pull her arm free. 

"That's true." 

Up on the stage, Gilberto was fiddling with a microphone and waiting for the last few stragglers to come and fill up the equestrian ring so he could begin. Again, the two men exhanged a telling glance around her. 

"You gonna go up there with him?" Pacho said lowly, hands now crossing behind his back. Miguel shook his head. 

"You go. I'll stay here. Better view." 

Diana stayed demonstratively rooted to the spot when Herrera started moving. He shot her a look, which she pretended not to notice in favor of striking up more mindless small talk with Miguel. Apparently Herrera decided that it wasn't worth making a big deal out of, choosing instead to let her be and weave through the audience until he reached the bottom of the stage, exchanging a greeting with Santacruz and glowering over the assembled crooks and accomplices. 

Gilberto's speech was... full of pathos and grandstanding, and too many high-minded terms for such a petty crook, she thought. When did the delusions or grandeur usually start appearing, she wondered. Was it with the first million? The first billion? But it's the core of the announcement that makes her gasp and sets the wheels in her mind into overdrive, the implications just mounting up. She spares a quick glance at Herrera at the foot of the stage, his face too demonstratively blank save for furrowed brows. Miguel beside her is more expressive, but quick to reign his face back in. Among the surprised gasps and whispers all around it tells her enough. Briefly, she thought of making a comment to Miguel, but his jaw is set so tight she can hear the grinding of teeth and she doesn't have anything productive or intelligent to say anyway, so she lets it be. Swallows the bile that rises up in her throat as Gilberto proclaims 'For our children! And for our children's children!', and tries not to roll her eyes. Or gouge his out, for the sheer gall of it. Because here she stands, approaching thirty-five and still deathly afraid to bring a baby into a world they have made so violent, so toxic, so dangerous. Meanwhile Salome is without her parents, both murdered by this unending war. Meanwhile a David Rodríguez flounces around as some sort of better henchman, he and his cousins all cushy and carefree thanks to daddy's blood money. It churns the stomach with rage. 

"Mrs Galindo! Just the woman I've been looking for!" 

The crowd parts for him, less so out of reverence and more because people are slowly drifting away, gossip already flying about, Diana is pleased to note. 

"Mr Rodríguez, what an...impactful speech." She said demurely, keeping all her sneering tucked safely away behind the mask of officiousness. 

"It's the coup of the century!" She catches Miguel's scoff just in the corner of her eye. "It also means transferring our assets into the...ah, ...legitimate sphere, if you will." He's got his arm around her shoulders again, leading her back towards the dancefloor, the buffet and tables, the house. By chance and his smaller stature, he's speaking almost directly into the shoulder with the hidden microphone attached, detailing all the financial acrobatics he wants her to perform to save all their assets from both law- and taxman. There she went again, trading complicity for access. --- Just over an hour on and the gender ratio has left Diana sitting squished between Herrera and the youngest of the Mrs Rodríguezes, but at least he seems to have taken his measure of her. And swallowed her undergarment excuse. Swallowed...undergarments. She snorted semi-loudly into the cocktail she'd been nursing this whole time, the ice in it all but dissolved. Dammit, here eyes were getting heavier by the minute and it wasn't even that late, barely midnight. Then again she had been up since five and alcohol, even though she hadn't had all that much, always made her sleepy. And the guests had started trickling away, leaving behind a scene of mild devastation. 

"I think Mrs Galindo needs to go home." It was Franklin Jurado speaking, Christina's head buffered on his shoulder as she slept. Diana had just enough self-control left to not tell him to fuck off. Or maybe she really is too tired to; doesn't even have it in her to get annoyed at Gilberto's patronizing tone as he agrees. 

"Yes, why don't you drive Mrs Galindo home?" 

She hums more in acknowledgement than agreement to Hererra's suggestion, tired eyes hazily following his line of sight to the man stepping forward from the shadows at being summoned. His gaudy shirt reminds her of one Juan Mateo had worn on their honeymoon and which she had hated half because it had been a gift from her horrible mother-in-law, and half because it was the most hideous thing she had ever seen. And then realization hits and her blood runs ice-cold and alertness slams back into her consciousness like a bullet. 

"Mr Velasquez." her voice is so weak and brittle, she thinks it must give her away if nothing else did so far. She took one last sip to wet her dry mouth, and because frankly she needs the alcohol now more than ever. The suggestion to call a taxi died on her lips as she realized that there was truly no way out of this. So, she steels herself and stands on sore feet, bidding the bosses of Calí and their dependents a good night. "I would be much obliged, Mr Velasquez." 

Navegante approximated a smile and stalked ahead. --- Well, there goes his progress. He'd been down to three smokes a day, four on a bad day, due in part to an iron adherence to some hard and fast self-imposed rules, such as no smoking in his office (or, in fact, no smoking inside the building at all). Tonight, however, is the night of the Calí godfathers' big announcement party, and Javier had not moved from his office for longer than a quick bathroom break or coffee run. He had also gone through half a pack of cigarettes in the last two hours, and his stomach was beginning to feel queasy the longer he spent glancing at the phone on the edge of his desk from the corner of his eye as he pretended to make his way through the mountain of paperwork that somehow never seemed to get any smaller. The fact that he'd woken that morning with the memory of Diana Turbay's lifeless body crumpled in that cupboard certainly hadn't helped. 

He last looked at a clock around half past nine, when a very insistent cleaning lady had shooed him out of his office and he'd spent around ten anxious minutes hovering by the door in case the phone rang. It hadn't, and now here he was, eyes burning and brain mushy with his heartbeat a steady pulsing behind his temples. And he wondered– 

Javier swiped up the phone before the first ring had even finished. "Miss Rivas!" 

"I'm fine." She didn't sound fine. She sounded on edge. Rattled. Like she was trying to reassure herself. He gripped the phone receiver tighter. 

"Where are you?" What was he gonna do? Drive all the way to Calí from Bogotá at half an hour past midnight? Even a flight would take hours, and raise suspisions to boot. 

"I said I'm fine," she replied, nails clacking rhythmically against the plastic phone casing in what he knew by now to be a nervous tick. "I'm safe. I'm home." 

Javier breathed a relieved sigh, rigid shoulders slumping a fraction. He supposed he could have ordered Duffy or Lopez to do something if push had come to shove, though what he honestly had no idea. 

"Good, that's good." 

"Mr Velasquez gave me a lift." 

Who the hell was that? "Who the hell is that?" Javier asked. 

"You probably know him as Navegante." Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. Mentally he's already halfway out the door, physically at least halfway out of the office until the phone wire makes known its spatial limitations. 

"You alright? Is he still there? Lock your door, double lock it, I-" 

"I didn't give him the exact address, please calm down." He does, but only enough to catch his breath and not bolt out the door. There's a rustling from her end of the line, and she makes a sort of breathless little sound, somehwere between a sigh and a grunt, followed by a low but vicious curse.

"You okay?" 

"It's the damn zipper again; I'm this close to pulling something. Hang on." Judging by the thud that reverberates she set the phone down on a counter or table. Javier's hand went to rub at the back of his neck, half reflex, half sympathy. "Let's focus on the real issue here. The announcement." 

The way she said it was urgent, but he chose to believe this was due to wanting to get the message out and not to any concerns of Navegante lurking nearby. He had to, for his own sanity. 

"Apparently Gilberto cut a deal with the government." 

"The government?" Javier echoed weakly. 

"The new Samper administration. I knew why I didn't vote for those clowns. No, that's ...I had many reasons for that actually, first and foremost of them being that the Liberal Party nowadays is a damn joke. And to think that this is the same party that my parents fought for in their youth! Anyway, enough of that. They get half a year to get their house in order, then turn themselves in on the smallest possible charges, minimal jail time, back out again after a few years and back into their cushy lives with all of their blood money laundered neatly away. A clean slate." He'd never heard her sound so bitter, and he'd heard a good deal of her opinions on the Gentlemen of Calí over the past year. 

"So they're just going to get away with it." Javier grit out, equally livid. "Wait, you said Gilberto cut the deal? What about the others?" 

"Yes, so here is where it gets interesting. I didn't get the sense that they knew. Beforehand I mean. You should have outfitted me with a camera too, because Miguel's face was priceless." Another grunt and then a triumphant little 'ha' and then her voice sounded clearer again, nearer as she picked the phone back up. 

"He doesn't like it." 

"None of them like it. Don't want to give up the power, if I had to guess. What is it with men and building their entire ego on how much they can make others fear them?" 

Javier hummed non-committally, deciding that he had nothing valuable to add at this point. 

"Yeah, you're right. So how do I get the 'ooof' ...the recording to you? Usual way?" Javier didn't even get to reply no when she went on, now audibly shuffling around her apartment and out of the rest of her clothes. "I can't believe I almost forgot! I met the money launderer. His name is Franklin Jurado. He'll be in Calí until Tuesday with his wife Christina. I somewhat promised her to meet for coffee on Sunday; if you can have one of your agents trail me you can get them." 

She sounded so hopeful that he hated to have to dash it, even for her own safety, but snatching such an important cartel member so soon and with her so close would cast suspicion. She couldn't be involved. And he hadn't heard back from his agents yet, which was possibly a bad sign. Javier made up his mind, cringing while he glanced at the clock to make some mental calculations. 

"I'm coming over." 

"To Calí?" 

"Yes, what's your address? Unless you'd rather meet somewhere else?"

She gave her address, sounding stunned. He jotted it down under the note he'd made of Jurado's name; he'd need someone to look the guy up first thing tomorrow. 

"You're not leaving now, are you? It's late, you need to sleep." Javier could picture the way her brow creased in a frown just from the tone of her voice. 

"No, I'll call you again as soon as I know when I'll be there." Driving the whole way would be a nightmare and eat up most of the day. Javier whirled around and pulled an atlas from the shelf behind his desk. Flying in directly was out of the question with the way the godfathers had the whole city under surveillance. Buenaventura, under two hours by plane and then about two and a half from there to Calí. Yes, that would work. 

"Goodness, you're actually serious about this." 

"Of course." Javier stopped in his tracks for the first time in several minutes now, taking a moment to breathe and slump in his seat. He was exhausted yet wide awake, and likely would be for some time. "I mean, if that's okay with you." 

"Of course, umm...anything in particular you'd like for dinner?" Javier stopped. He would be staying for dinner, possibly the night, too. In a hotel of course, he couldn't possibly impose- 

"You don't have to cook for me." His mouth said, but his stomach said bandeja paisa. Briefly, the thought of taking her out for dinner popped up, indulgent and unbidden, and was immediately squashed by the thought of the godfathers' eyes everywhere. "I can pick something up on the way." 

Her protest turned into a yawn not two syllables in. Javier couldn't help the small smile appearing on his face, felt it only by how it twinged his tense jaw. "You're tired, you should rest." 

"We're not finished with this." She mumbled obstinately. "You rest." 

"I will." He would, eventually. "I'll call you tomor- ...today." A quick glance at the clock revealed it was now past midnight. She made a very grumpy, very adorable huffy sound, mumbling something about the inexorable passage of time. 

"Sleep well, Miss Rivas." 

"You too..." There was a rustle and the quiet squeak and groan of a bedframe and mattress. He waited a moment, unsure whether more was coming or whether she'd just been too tired to disconnect the call. A short silence burst into a quick curse, her voice remote but still clear enough to make out. "...God fucking dammit, fucking contact lenses! Son of a rabid-" 

"Miss Rivas?" By the rapid padding of feet and the continued cursing he had to suppose that she hadn't heard, and by how either sound seemed to be at about equal distance with neither decreasing, he supposed further that the phone was still in her hand. As soon as he heard the 'thunk' that most likely meant that the phone had been tossed down on some surface, he tried again. "Miss Rivas?" 

"You're still there?" She sounded marginally more awake now, but not like this state would persist for very long. 

"You didn't hang up." And perhaps Javier wasn't all too opposed to having the continued assurance that she was alright and her cover intact. "You swear very entertainingly, by the way." 

"I'm glad my lack of filter and ladylike decorum amuses rather than appalls you." Splashing water interrupted them for a moment, but was quickly replaced by more colorful cursing. 

"Please, don't hold back." Javier commented drily, not really expecting to be heard clearly since the satphone didn't have a loudspeaker. 

"Very funny. Why don't you talk to me a bit more while I try not to poke my eyes out by accident-" 

"I- ...I'm afraid I don't really have anything interesting to talk about." 

"And I don't have enough brain left today for anything more taxing than the weather anyway. I just need your voice; I'm dead on my feet. How was the weather in Bogotá today? I always found it so cold when I was at university there. Nothing like Medellín. They used to call me 'chompa' at uni because I would never go anywhere without one. Too cold. And of course Calí is so much warmer than either..." 

"It's been quite grey here, and not especially warm either. Back home it's at least twice as warm but I've been here so long now I think I'm more used to it." 

"I never asked where exactly you're from..." 

"Laredo, Texas. It's right on the border with Mexico." 

"Laredo..." She mused, puttering about still. "Oh like the song? As I walked walked out on the streets of Laredo..." She must really be tired and devoid of all usual inhibitions, Javier thought, to just start singing like this. Not that he minded. She got halfway through the first stanza until she faltered, the lyrics escaping her. Her voice was soft and with that same raspy edge she had when speaking. It was a voice suited best to lullabies he thought; or to yearnful ballads performed in smoky bars, or some similarly wistful thing. "Aren't I supposed to be the one talking?" 

"Hmm, this works too. I'm almost done, so you won't have to humor me much longer. So, tell me more about Laredo while I brush my teeth." --- He ended up talking longer than that - divulging more than he ever planned to as per usual, of the town and the ranch that sat up against the river - until she was settled back into bed and about to doze off for good. If nothing else, it settled him too somewhat, though sleep would elude him for a a good while yet even despite the physical and mental exhaustion the day, or in fact the whole week, had brought him. No sooner had he disconnected the line with a soft 'Sleep well' than the phone rang again. 

"Yes?" 

"Boss, I've been trying to reach you for half an hour!" Duffy's voice sounded strained and any modicum of relaxation Javier might have gained dissipated with immediate effect. He scrubbed a hand over his burning eyes and resigned himself to dealing with one more catastrophe. 

"Duffy, what is it?" Agents Duffy and Lopez had organized their own infiltration of the godfathers' party, courtesy of the intel provided by Miss Rivas as well as what Operation Cornerstone had shaken loose. At least he knew it was nothing that had blown the cover of his informant. 

"Okay well, no use beating around the bush here. Our guy got made, and Calí knows we're here-" Javier listened to his agent's report with his frown deepening. Why was it that with every step forward, another wrench was thrown his way? 

"Alright, close up shop. Leave as soon and as inconspicuously as you can. I'll see you back here at the embassy on Monday morning." He ordered. Hopefully the gentlemen and their security would leave it at the gesture of intimidation, especially if they thought themselves well on the way of becoming untouchable, but one could never be too careful. 

---

Javier consulted the clock for what must have been the hundredth time that evening. Normally the bar down the street from the embassy wouldn't be his first or even fourth choice, but tonight he was looking for a place to wind down with the shortest possible distance to cover afterwards. The danger of being accosted by any of his co-workers was one he'd simply have to brave. If luck was on his side for once, none of the more sociably inclined would be there any more, or too engrossed in their own merriment to notice him slink in, and if not, his curmudgeonly ways were known well enough that a civil yet decisive refusal would hopefully be deterrence enough. 

It was for Stoddard, but of course not for Bill Stechner, the non-drug-lord bane of Javier's existence. Ostensibly on the same side, though Javier would argue that the CIA was on its own side entirely. Or that their budget would be spent more productively by making the damn lot of them just feed dollar bills through a shredder, but no one asked Javier about these things. So, he sits and grinds his teeth while Stechner's smug voice grates on his nerves. Visualizes strangling the CIA station shief with the tie he'd just pulled off and balled up into his pocket moments ago, which does a little bit to alleviate the almost overbearing urge to smash Stechner's face into the bar top. "Oh come on, you don't care about American streets or dead Colombians." 

And the deal? How the hell does Stechner know about the deal when it's only just been announced? For a split-second, he wonders whether Diana- but no, he trusts her completely, and he hasn't told anyone except a handful of his agents about her, deciding this information was so sensitive it was strictly need to know, and even they only knew her by her assigned code name. Not even the ambassador knew that he had such a high-priority informant on the inside of the cartel. Stechner must have some government source, be it an informant of his own or bugs in the offices of ministers. The way he only mentions Lopez and Duffy's operation confirms it. 

"Same goal my ass." Javier muttered into his whiskey after Stechner slithered away. This had been supposed to be a one-drink-night, but now he was feeling like he might need at least three more, if only to dull the screeching of his swirling thoughts. 

It's no use. He's all keyed up still, something feels like it's burrowing inside of his chest, some sort of woodland critter both desperate and unable to settle down. He's tired, too, of course, eyes heavy and burning and sore, feels like his eyeballs are coated in smoke and pitched open by caffeine. He shouldn't have had that much coffee that late; despite his high tolerance it does still have an effect on him. Thank goodness on any given day, but right now he's regretting it. His leg jumps, knee knocking painfully against the bar front. He feels eyes on him. They've been there since he walked in, furtively glancing throughout his confrontation with Stechner, but bolder now. He feels it like a prickle on his skin. Turns his gaze finally. Sees long dark hair, open, melting into the late shadows of the bar. Too long, but it'll have to do. She's... he's definitely seen her around before. The elevator? Different department, perhaps press office, or visas. Definitely nowhere near the DEA offices or he would have known her name. She's coming over now, leaning easily against the bartop, slender fingers tapping, and an easy, eager smile. Her hair isn't dark enough, and too long and wavy all the way through instead of only curling at the ends, and nothing else about her appearance quite matches up, but she's pretty and willing and he's pent up and about to crawl out of his skin. And so he lets her take him home. And he means to leave right after, he really does. If only not to give any impression of this having even the slightest potential of becoming any more than it is. But Katie (that's her name, but he's learnt a long time ago to not groan out names during, because whether the name is correct or not it always turns out bad somehow), Katie sleepily mumbles that he can stay because it's late, and truth be told? He's completely shot, feels like he couldn't move if he wanted to. And the thought of dragging himself back to his empty apartment with only his thoughts for company is the most unbearable thing at this moment. Her mattress is too soft and despite the fact that he only laid on it until waking again at first light, it messes up his back for almost a week. --- It is indeed much warmer in this side of the country, and an especially hot day in Calí itself. On the coast where he'd landed, there had at least been a breeze blowing in from the Pacific, but the further inland Javier drives the less the air seems to move. He felt the sweat start to gather at his hairline, and down his neck, as soon as he parked the rental car in front of the cluster of new-ish high rise apartment blocks in one of the north-western boroughs of the city. 

Javier grabbed his one piece of luggage and the bag of takeout he'd picked up on the way, just as promised, and walked up to the first building to study the panel beside the door for the correct bell to ring. A sharp whistle made him look around, then up at the next building. Miss Rivas was all but hanging off the side of her balcony, waving down and giving Javier half a heart attack seeing as she was on the sixth floor. He waved back in acknowledgement, then jogged over to the already buzzing door, which he pushed open. Blessedly, there was an elevator, and not two minutes later he stood in front of her apartment, the door swinging open before he could raise his hand to knock. 

"Hi." She sounded breathless, as if she'd run up six flights of stairs, not across an apartment. 

"... Miss Rivas." In his relief, he'd almost slipped. Almost called her by her first name, but they're not there yet, strangely. Or not strangely at all, in fact. It's quite by design. It's a way of keeping himself detached; professional. Or whatever excuse he could come up with to maintain this state of perpetual denial. 

"Umm, ...lunch? I brought lunch." He thrust the bag foward, watched it swing between them while cringing inwardly. 

"Good! I've only been up for two hours or so; I don't even care what it is, I'm starving!" Carefully, she took the bag from him, one hand supporting the bottom like a newborn's head, the other brushing his as she looped her fingers through the handles. "Come in, come in." 

Javier stood a full three seconds or so after she'd already turned around and walked down the narrow hallway, rooted to the spot and struck dumb like some sort of imbecile. His skin prickled in all the places he'd let Katie touch him the night before, which, admittedly, hadn't been too many - but still enough to be burning him with that familiar mixture of guilt and shame now. So he does what he does best when it comes to emotions: deny and repress. 

He left his shoes beside the pair of strappy heels she must have discarded there the night before, probably in a hurry to get the severely uncomfortable looking things off after spending a whole evening in them. The hallway opened into an open living room and dining area, the balcony beyond that, and a galley-style kitchen off to one side not unlike his own apartment. It was a sparse place, not quite enough furniture to fill the space - a long couch and coffee table, a low sideboard with a TV on it, none of it new save for the stereo system that was of course on and softly playing the usual eclectic music mix. Javier dropped his bag beside the couch where it would be out of the way. The dining table barely deserved the name. It was a small, round, reedy looking thing, just large enough for two, or maybe two and a child, with two plastic fold-out chairs. On it stood a light blue and white ceramic fruit bowl that currently held zero fruit, just the recording device he'd given her and... some pieces of golden sapphire and diamond jewelry? Puzzled, Javier picked up what turned out to be a bracelet. He raised one eyebrow at her as she set down plates for them. 

"Got a raise?" 

"Ha! As if. I should have, though. What with the extra work I got saddled with last night. That's the problem with rich people. Miserly. The more zeroes on their bank statements the stingier they get." She scoffed, ranting away all the way to and fro carrying the cutlery. "No, this-" she stabbed a spoonhandle through the bracelet and swirled it around once, twice, before glowering at the gemstones darkly, "This is what Mrs Jurado had me borrow to complete my outfit yesterday. Obviously I have to return them, which is why I'm meeting her for coffee tomorrow afternoon. If you do your whole government agent covert spy observation thing you could at least get eyes on her, maybe even him, too. Franklin Jurado, the money launderer. You can just smell the entitlement on him. I bet he went to one of the really fancy schools over there, like Princeton. Or maybe Harvard." 

"I'm glad to see you're making friends." Javier had followed her to the kitchen, leaning against a cabinet and watching her place the food on plates, any attempts to help or make himself useful deftly rebuffed as always. 

"I think it was Harvard actually. I think he mentioned it- It's on the recording, in any case. Real smug about it too. La Javeriana is a perfectly good university, too. Older, too. Luis Carlos Galán attended it, you know? Graduated in economics and law, like I did." 

"Like the new president, too." Javier dared remark, only to be leveled with a death glare that could make a man fear for his life. 

"Professor Samper, oh yes," she said pointedly, thrusting the plates at him, "Don't remind me please. The whole family attended, have for generations." 

Javier dutifully carried over the dishes and set them down, returning a moment later for the pitcher of water. Diana followed him, wiping her glasses with her tee-shirt in a gesture he had come to know was more about calming down than it was about being able to see better. 

"Right, no politics at meal time. Tell me something interesting instead." Diana attacked her food with a frightening kind of fervor. And suddenly the only thing he could think about was what Stechner had told him the night before, how the deal would go ahead, a neat little setup by politicians whose only objective was looking good enough for re-election. Naturally, the words died in his throat. He shrugged and started digging in. 

"Nothing huh? Okay, well, how about this then: How many Mrs Rodríguezes are there?" 

"Is this a trick question?" There should be one only, seeing as Miguel was widowed and his little shit of a son wasn't exactly husband material - nor looking to be. "One?"

"Close. There's three." 

That didn't make any sense. "That doesn't make any sense. Miguel is widowed and David- ...Gilberto! Gilberto?" 

"Gilberto." She confirmed. "All three. They have a rota, apparently. On Sundays they just sit around while he watches whatever game is on which sounds thrilling. And I thought my marriage was crap." 

"Huh." If Javier thought that the farcical nature of governmental - and inter-governmental - bureaucracy had prepared him for the absurdity of chasing drug kingpins he had apparently been sorely mistaken. But mostly, he was relieved to see that Diana was in such good spirits again, what with how affected she'd sounded the night before. Lunch was over in no time at all, and Javier felt his short night starting to catch up with him. He yawned surreptitiously as he helped carry the dirty dishes back into the kitchen, or what he thought had been surreptitious anyway. 

"Okay, coffee or nap?" 

"Huh?" Dammit, his eyes were burning. Diana took the plates and deposited them in the sink, leaving him to blink sluggishly. "I can do those. The dishes." 

"You're about to keel over. Haven't slept a wink, have you?" 

"About three hours, and another half hour or so on the plane. I'm fine, really." He admitted. The fact that he had to lean against the cabinets did not exactly serve to strengthen his argument. Diana tutted. 

"I need to run some errands, grocery shopping and the like. If you are really determined to get to work on the recording I'll make you a good strong coffee before I go, but I would personally suggest you use the time to catch up on some sleep. The couch pulls out." 

It was tempting, it really was, but Javier also knew that he'd have a harder time falling asleep later if he messed up his rhythm more now. 

"Coffee it is, then." She set to work in the same breath. 

A fond smile pulled at Javier's lips. "Thank you." --- Even knowing she was fine and safe now, she hadn't expected that listening to the recording would be so excruciatingly stressful. She had very helpfully compiled a list of encounters, along with time estimates (and a very evocative caricature of the chief accountant, Guillermo Pallomari), which had allowed him to fast forward through the recording to get a general overview. Even so, he'd gotten stuck on several bits, even replaying a few. The introductory round, for one. Her panic attack in the bathroom. Or the segment with that slimy little bastard David Rodríguez. Her quick thinking and clever diversion of Pacho's suspicions. He hated hearing the strain in her voice, the barely masked anxiousness that none of them even seemed to notice but that stood out to him so very clearly. His jaw was clenched so tight he could feel his teeth grinding– The lock on the front door clicked open, jolting Javier from his focused state. A quick glance at his watch told him it had been well over three hours since she'd left for her errands, afternoon now melting into early evening. In his haste to get up he tangled the wires, cursing as he he sat back down. Diana huffed into view, heavy-looking bags on each arm. 

"Hey there," she threw him a quick smile before vanishing into the kitchen to set down her load, re-emerging a heartbeat later. She crossed the distance in a few strides, lightly squeezing his shoulder as she leaned over him to peer at the notes he'd taken. "How's it going? Anything viable?" 

Her touch, given with such casual affection, electrified him. He'd never been, never considered himself the type of person anyone would come home to. 

"Plenty." He needed to collect himself, clear his throat and mind and get a grip. "You did amazing work." And I can't use it in court because you incriminate yourself all throughout.

"Good, I'm glad. Would have been a re-" 

The shrill ringing of her landline interrupted them. Immediately, Javier mourned the loss of her touch, the spot on his shoulder where her hand had lingered now turning cold. Pull yourself together, dammit! 

The telephone was mounted on the wall that separated hallway and kitchen, and had a cord long enough to allow for a range of movement to about halfway into the latter. Unsure of whether he was supposed to be listening, he tried to go back to the recording. Only tried rather turned into pretended. As quickly as he had put the headphones on, he took them off again, watching Diana for a moment of hesitation. She was shuffling around the kitchen entrance, emptying her shopping bags with the phone receiver pinned between her cheek and shoulder. She was talking to her aunt, tense and worried, but managed a small smile when she caught Javier's eye. Wordlessly, he started helping her putting the groceries away as directed. 

"No, I know you don't approve. No one approves except Gabriela, and incidentally Gabriela is also the only one who saw that I was making a mistake right from the start and the only one who tried to dissuade me from going through with the wedding, and if I'd only listened to her and my gut back then, I wouldn't-" She turned her back at this, and Javier put away the last few pieces and left the kitchen, giving her the pretense of privacy at least. It wasn't like the apartment was so vast that her voice wouldn't carry. He walked over to the stereo system he'd turned off earlier and switched it back on, fiddling with the volume by way of looking distracted. 

"...No, and I don't want to talk about it any more. I don't care what the Pope says; the Pope was never married! ...Yes, put her on; I think that's better for everyone involved." 

Immediately her voice and stance relaxed, became softer and warmer, and the conversation a lot more one-sided as Diana talked to Salome on the phone. Javier's knees were starting to protest at his half-kneeling by the sideboard, but he was too transfixed by trying to determine whether the little girl would perhaps say a few words today. She sometimes did, though very rarely, and Javier had yet to witness it himself. 

"Okay, my little darling, you be good for granny, alright? Sleep well, sweetheart. I love you. Bye-bye." 

Diana hung up and shuffled over, taking a seat on he edge of the coffee table closest to him. Javier gave up on the volume dial and turned towards her. 

"Everything okay?" She nodded and took off her glasses to rub at her eyes. Cautiously, Javier placed his hand atop hers where it laid in her lap, rubbing his thumb back and forth across the top of it soothingly. "And are you okay?" 

"I will be; I just- ...I try that she at least hears my voice every day, even if I can't be there and- She's so little and has already lost so much, and every time I have to leave I feel like I'm just making it worse and like maybe that's why she still barely talks. And it's so unfair! She's just a little girl and she needs her mother or at least she needs a mother and we try - my aunt and I try our best but we're all that's left of this family." Her voice got quieter with each word, fading to a whisper before ceasing. Javier didn't know how to respond; all the obvious things seemed like meaningless phrases, frivolous and unhelpful. Diana deflated, her whole frame drooping like misery personified. She let out a single, quiet sob, gripping his hand in both of hers like he was her anchor. "I just wish I at least knew what I was doing." 

She wiped at her eyes angrily, blindly grasping for the glasses on the table behind her until she found them and shoved them back on. She stood abruptly, but did not let go of his hand, instead tugging him up, to which his beleaguered knees only objected more. 

"Sorry, forget that. Let's sort out dinner." She stalked back into the kitchen, and Javier could only follow of creaky knees, the blood rushing back down into his feet and making them prickle and almost falter. She finally let go of his hand in front of the refridgerator, throwing open the door of it like a shield between them.  

"So for dinner I was thinking-" 

"Miss Rivas." She didn't even hear him, just went on explaining what was possible with the ingredients she'd picked up earlier. Javier laid his hand on top of hers gently, feeling the tension in her fingers, the tremble in them as she gripped the fridge door tight. Gently still, he eased her grip and shut the door. She didn't even look at him, obstinately staring down at the tiled floor instead. 

"I'm in control of my emotions." She declared defiantly. "I'm not a liability to your investigation." 

"I know." Javier took both her hands in his now, squeezed them once, still gentle. Kept his voice soft too; soft and low and for her ears only. "I know you ...aren't. It's okay. You're doing so good. You're doing amazing. It's okay." On the last few words, he raised their entwined hands, nudging her chin up to look at him. Took in her reddened but stubbornly dry eyes, her lips pressed into a painful line, and the hard set of her jaw and brows. All she needed was one final push to let go, one word of permission, and he gave it gladly. "It's okay." 

He'd expected an outburst now, an explosive outpouring of grief or at least wrath. Instead, Diana squeezed his hands back once before letting go, leaving him standing in the kitchen while she went into her bedroom. He heard her rummage around for a moment, then she returned with a small photo album in her hands which she carefully set down on the counter before throwing it open and flipping through the pages until she found the picture she was looking for. It showed what he assumed was her family. He recognized only her and Maritza, both noticeably younger then. Side by side, the family resemblance became more apparent, especially in comparison with the respective parents. Wordlessly, she flipped through the pages. In the next one Maritza's father was missing, the one after that, her own father was no longer there. The one after that showed the addition of a young man and what must have been a newborn Salome, him holding the baby with a broad, dimpled smile that his daughter had inherited. He was gone in the following picture, Diana's mother vanished in the one after that, until the last photograph showed only Maritza's mother, Diana herself, and little Salome. 

"Some time after we cleared out Maritza's apartment, I went to Escobar's grave. If I was looking for some kind of satisfaction, I didn't find it there." She closed the album with a sharp snap. "The whole drive back, last night, I was sure I was about to end up fish fodder, and I just thought... with how my aunt's health is failing, will Salome be all alone in the world before she's even five?" 

Javier swallowed hard, choking on the words that had sprung up onto the tip of his tongue. That he wouldn't let that happen (but it could have happened not twenty-four hours prior and there would have been nothing he could have done about it). That he would make sure the little girl was taken care of (How? He wasn't kin and Diana's aunt didn't know him. And he wasn't exactly prime fatherhood material, so what exactly did he think he could do?). And in the back of his head, he still heard the desperate shallow little breaths she'd heaved during her panic attack. So different words jumped onto his tongue instead, tumbling out before he could ever think through the implications. 

"Do you want out? You don't even have to go meet Mrs Jurado tomorrow, I can organize to have you pulled out within the week. And your family too. You'd be safe." 'I am never doing this again', she'd said. Well, he wouldn't make her. And considering what he knew now, that his whole investigation was just a front? What was the damn point of it anyway? 

Diana smiled, just a slight quirk of the corner of her lip, but the first in what felt like hours now. "Now? No. I don't want anyone else having to go through what my family and I went through, here or anywhere. This kind of...lust for power - it's grasping. It never stops, it is never satisfied. And it doesn't care what stands in its way." 

"You sure?" He ought to tell her, he really ...but even though the betrayal isn't his, just his to hand on, he hesitates again. 

"I am. Starting with meeting Christina Jurado tomorrow. Besides, you'll be with me all the way through." 

"Yeah," his voice creaks like a rusty hinge, "Yeah, of course I'll be. Just a stone's throw away." --- "Goodness, does she ever shut up?" Javier shut the door behind himself, hanging up the spare key on the hook by the door. They'd just returned from Diana and Mrs Jurado's coffee and lunch date - separately for safety purposes - and Javier's head was still swimming. Diana might be reasonably called talkative, but at least she had things to say. Christina Jurado, it turned out, could talk a mile a minute without saying much of substance at all. Diana had been all but steam-rollered by the barrage of conversation and Javier, who had listened closely to all two and a half hours of it, was starting to feel the beginnings of a pressure headache building. 

"Without being condescending, Agent Peña, there is so much that men don't understand about the way women talk with each other." Diana peeked out into the hallway with a raised eyebrow. "Besides, she may well have been... uuh-" 

"May have been what?" After discarding his shoes, he walked into the apartment fully. Diana frowned, then touched a fingertip to the side of her nose with a meaningful look. When he didn't light up with sudden understanding, she gave a good-natured yet long-suffering sigh. And Javier really thinks he should probably have slept more than four hours, but his back was now paying the price for his stint on that marshmallow fluff that passed for Katie's mattress, and also his mind liked to give him trouble when it ought to quiet down. 

"She may have been what, Miss Rivas?" 

"Mrs Jurado, I have good reason to believe, likes to uhh... sample the product." The penny rolled around Javier's exhausted mind a moment longer before dropping. 

"...You mean to tell me she was high on cocaine the whole time?" 

"Yes. Why are you whispering?" Why indeed. Javier cleared his throat and wondered why this revelation left him so scandalized. "She did use on Friday night, too, which is a frequency I honestly find alarming. I hope it's more of a weekend thing- Franklin knows, but I don't think he has any idea what to do about it. I'd reckon it's something they're both keen to keep under wraps, though for different reasons. I don't imagine the gentlemen would be overly thrilled, especially the brothers. They like to keep a pretty tight hold on everything even remotely to do with the business." 

"Huh... what the hell are you do-" While he had been musing on this new development in his sluggish mind, she'd stuck one hand down her blouse from the top and the other up it from the bottom, fumbling around for a moment before pulling the wiretap she'd been wearing for the meeting out and handing it to him non-chalantly. 

"When's your flight?" 

"Uh, late. Later. Ten-ish." He'd be back in Bogotá before midnight, but there was the drive back to Buenaventura to consider. Even so, it was only mid-afternoon now. Javier rubbed his hand over his burning eyes. His brain was no longer in a state to be doing that kind of math and he sighed, the coffee he'd just had clearly not doing anything. 

"You have at least an hour to get some sleep. Come lie down." She was out from in front of him and across the room before he could blink tiredly, already pushing back the coffee table and bending to pull out the couch. Javier meant to protest, he really did. But. Sleep beckoned. And so, with heavy feet dragging across the laminate floor, he acquiesced. 

"Thanks." He mumbled, gratefully receiving a pillow. 

"I'll wake you in an hour, hour and a half tops." She already sounded further away than she should be, considering she was by the sofa-bed's - and his - head still. Javier hummed a reply, more affirmative sound than any proper words. As he drifted off, he thought he felt gentle fingers brushing the hair back from his forehead. But surely that was just wishful thinking, for what else could it be? ---

So, six more months of looking busy and doing nothing while the Calí godfathers revved up operations to squeeze as much money as they could out. He'd had to send his agents home after they'd been splashed all over the front page of the Espectador, so not only did the DEA not currently have any presence on the ground in Calí, it also left Diana without even the faintest layer of protection. And with the massive stink the Colombians, fronted by General Vargas, had kicked up about it, he couldn't send in any replacements, no matter how eager or indeed fastidious Agent Feistl was. And now the incident in Yumbo. The youngest of the dead had only been six years old. Javier glowered at the TV report where the safety inspector was giving his final report. Natural gas leak... yeah, sure. This thing reeked; he felt it in his bones that the cartel was responsible somehow. And he couldn't go after them. The desire to go find Stechner and smash his stupid smug face through the screen became near unbearable. He turned the TV off before the urge manifested into action. 

He sat down behind his desk, taking a moment to look around the largely dark and empty office space around him before opening that particular drawer on the top right and taking out the arrest warrants. Their money and power and the influence both bought meant that the Calí bosses could move comparatively freely, but they still hid away. Carefully so, with the kind of tight-knit security that most heads of state could only dream of. Even if he did find a way to get at them, his hands were now unofficially bound. Well over a year's work, two good agents sent home, his informant risking her life every single day, more innocent dead who would never get justice, and what for? He hated it. He still hadn't told her. He thought about quitting. 

The phone rang. He knew it was her. She didn't even try his home landline first now, knowing he spent his evenings at the office more often than not. Javier let it ring once more while mustering up the courage to come clean. 

"Miss Rivas, good evening." 

"Decidedly not. Did you watch the news?" 

Javier scrubbed a hand over his face, squeezed his eyes shut so as to not have to look at the warrants spread out on his desk. There was only so much mockery a man could take. "Yeah. Yeah, I did." 

"It was them. David specifically, that self-absorbed buffoon. They chewed him out for over half an hour over it, which is far less than he deserves." 

"I figured." His throat felt tight; undoing another shirt button did precisely nothing. 

"Gilberto worries it will give the government leverage to go back on the deal. I hope it does."

So did Javier, but knowing the special interests being at play here he didn't hold out much hope. 

"And you have been made to recall your agents from Calí." 

Javier gulped. "Yes." 

"But they'll be replaced, right?" 

Well, here goes nothing then. "...No." 

Silence. She's not one to raise her voice even when upset and right now she must be livid. But perhaps she's shocked before anything else. Shocked into silence, into disbelief. He hates this, too. He wishes she would scream at him. Instead all he gets is a brittle quiet little '...What?' 

And it's so unfair, all of it. Stechner doesn't have to face her with this, the bastard. None of the politicians who are oh so invested in this little vanity project do either, the consequences aren't real to them. They get to collect the empty symbol of a supposedly bloodless surrender, some good publicity, and don't have to do or face any of the ugly truths on the ground. He thinks about quitting again. Pats his pocket for the reporter's business card. If he's leaving, he thinks, he'd do it with a bang. Burn all bridges with a mighty barrage of his personal J'accuse. But for now that's all idle thinking. 

"The surrender deal is going ahead as planned, because the powers that be will it so." He explained, truly understanding the sentiment of shooting the messenger at this very moment. "My hands are bound, there's nothing I can do."  

"Bullshit!" Yeah, agreed. He tries saying more, justifications that turn to dust on his tongue before the words even leave his mouth. His heart's not in it, and it only serves to stoke her wrath, fearsome even over the distance of the phone line. 

"What else will they get away with? If you're rich enough you can buy impunity? A blank cheque for murder? How many more people must die? Every day I go in and make myself complicit in it all on the promise that it will take them down!" 

The worst part of this, perhaps, is that he knows she's right. If any of those senators in their cushy Washington offices had even a bit of her bravery, her steadfastness, her moral clarity– 

"I'm sorry." His mouth is so dry. At last he opens his eyes again, glaring down at the warrants. Gilberto Rodríguez Orejuela. Miguel Rodríguez Orejuela. 

"You're sorry?" Even now her voice is still level. Full of venomous disbelief and cold with rage, yes, but it has not risen even a single decibel. 

"Miss Rivas, I-" 

The line went dead with a click. She'd hung up.

--- --- --- 

author’s notes: 

*me, an idiot* this chapter will cover episodes 1 through to 4. this is a thing that is feasible and realistic

*me, 7000 words in and still at the party* ah. oh no.

in other words: remember last chapter when I cut things off because I wanted to keep it below 10k? yeah, that won’t be happening anymore. It takes as long as it takes. *shrug emoji* stay hydrated.

DIAN (Dirección de Impuestos y Aduanas Nacionales) is the Colombian government agency that is responsible for collecting taxes

Fernando Botero is a Colombian artist and sculptor, famous for these really chunky bronze statues, though the one I reference here is a complete fabrication and does not actually exist

according to the Art and Making of Narcos book Navegante’s actual name is Jorge Velasquez

‘chompa’ according to the dictionary I used, is a term for jacket used in Colombia and some other places

yes I looked up average temperatures in all these cities. I have concluded that it gets hot af in Laredo

La Javeriana (Pontificia Universidad Javeriana) is one of the oldest and most prestigious universities in Colombia. Presidential candidate Carlos Luis Galan did indeed attend there, as did president Ernesto Samper, who is president during the season in the show. He also did indeed teach there for a while in the early 80s, which fortunately matches up with my timeline. It was indeed founded before Harvard. Thirteen years before to be exact (1623 vs 1636)

here’s the drawing Diana made of Pallomari (contador=accountant): 

tag list: @keeper0fthestars @opheliaelysia @fromthedeskoftheraven @dindjarindiaries @shikin83 @cinewhore @maddoggrahaml @javier-djarin @huliabitch @heatherbel @shestillwrites1​

didn’t ask to be tagged but reblogged all previous parts and therefore I assume you enjoyed it regardless of that you reading my story made me very happy list: @asoftcollection​ (thank you for indulging me and brainstorming the Jurados with me it helped a lot) @holographic-carmen​  @dermandalorianer​  @oldstuffnewstuff​ (sry it won’t let me tag ur sideblog hope this is okay)

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