#and then we get something actually tender and purposeful in act 3

[onceuponalegendbg]

So I've been thinking about the kiss.

In the moment, I was excited to see it of course, but I also was like... "huh, that felt off, quick, it didn't even really have that much oomph to it you know" and we've seen how this show does their romantic scenes. So I've been sitting on it for a bit.

And I think that was intentional.

Cait is really in the midst of several conflicting emotions. She's grieving, she's angry, she cares about Vi, she wants to murder Jinx, she feels safe in Vi's arms, she can't fall apart in public.

Vi is doing the best she can to be a supportive partner, trying to help keep Cait and herself afloat. And Cait does latch on to that. In the quiet moments between everything going to shit, Cait seeks out Vi's touch, her kiss, her... but ultimately she pulls away. Because she can't allow herself to linger there. She's got bigger fish to fry. She's vengeful, and Vi's support is only a temporary band-aid that's already peeling off at the slightest bend of skin (I swear I'm not trying to sound really pretentious I just really wanted an analogy here).

Cait can't fully put herself in this moment because her emotions are everywhere, and completely zeroed in on her big goal. She lets herself fall into something simple, something comforting, only to throw it aside in the end.

That's why the kiss was... lacking, I guess we'll say. At least that's how I felt.

[pshenyasstuff]

Headcanons for sub Valentino

Notes: I do not claim the canonicity of my words, these are solely my thoughts “what if..”. Valentino's personality makes it hard to imagine him as a sub, so I decided to give it a try.

Firstly, obviously, if you are weaker than him, lower than him in the hierarchy of hell, then he is unlikely to even try. He? Submit to some scum? Never;

But if you are also an overlord or simply a stronger demon than him, this is a different matter. He rarely gets rebuffed, so it is something unusual for him when someone is equal in strength to him or even stronger than him (except for Vox);

Just push him against the wall with his legs over your hips when no one is looking, and something will click in him;

He's such a brat, I swear. Constantly swears during sex, pointing out your mistakes. He does this on purpose so that he can be fucked harder. He just doesn't know how to work his tongue in a non-sexual way, like, dude, you can just ask;

In any case, you can easily shut him up if you do what he is trying so hard for. Just fuck him, knock all thoughts and curses out of his head, make him think only about this moment;

Have you heard his moth noises when he's angry? I think it works the other way too, when he feels as good as possible. On top of that, it's already loud, so unless you're alone, everyone knows what you're doing;

It's better to press his head to the pillow, face down, if you don't like bites or hickeys, because this bitch bites 99% of the time, and it hurts quite a bit. He doesn't care if you hurt, he just needs something to shut his mouth other than a kiss;

Speaking of kisses. He's so good, but sometimes you feel like you'll suffocate if you don't stop in time, because this whore's long tongue seems to be deliberately going right into your throat;

If we talk about his sensitive spots, then these are definitely his wings and his fluff. It’s so good to run your hands into his soft fluff or touch the place where his wings grow from. He immediately becomes more obedient, because all this is quite fragile, so use these methods more often;

And also this strange piercing of his nipples. It's sexy, actually. I think his tits are a little sensitive because of it;

Should I talk about the role play fetish? This dude has so many outfits, so don't be surprised if he's dressed differently every time you have sex. One day you are a policeman and a criminal with him, and the next a maid and a butler. Do not ask. Every time it's something different;

It is difficult to surprise him with something new. He owns the porn industry, I mean. So he's seen a lot. Too much. Accordingly, he has many fetishes;

Sado-masochist and bdsm lover. Change my mind. A common practice would be to beat him with a whip. Or handcuffs on both pairs of his hands;

To some extent, it is easily distracted by bright light in the dark, as moths usually do. It's as if his brain immediately turns off, so it's much easier for him to fuck;

If his hands are free, it is vital for him to grab onto something. In most cases, this is your waist, hips, tits... In general, you;

Maybe he will dance a striptease for you. Who knows;

Sex with him takes quite a long time, because he is quite hardy. It's rare that you're limited to two rounds;

Definitely good at sucking cock or eating pussy. Just watch out for his teeth;

It's strange for him if you treat him tenderly. He doesn’t like it, he will immediately leave or start acting up. "What the fuck? Do I look like I'm into all this romantic bullshit, babe?"

After sex, if you don’t leave, he falls asleep on your chest and hugs you with all his arms. The only moment when he behaves calmly. True, in the morning you will most likely be pushed to the floor, because, let’s say, the moment of tenderness has passed.

I hope it's not too much. Sorry if there are any typos or anything here. Love you, guys <3

[jdgo51]

Outserve Each Other

Today's inspiration comes from:

Praying the Scriptures for Your Marriage

by Jodie Berndt

"Married life is waking up early to preheat your spouse’s car in the winter (and then taking ten dollars out of their wallet as a tip for your services)."

“'Be ready to do whatever is good.” “Use whatever gift you have received to serve others.” “Serve one another humbly in love.”'1

"'Our contemporary culture holds a dim view of service — we’d rather be served than serve — but

at some gut-instinct level, we know that putting our spouse’s needs ahead of our own makes for a healthy and enjoyable marriage. Paul’s counsel to husbands and wives to “submit to one another” sounds like the right thing to do.2 But knowing the right thing to do and actually doing it are two different things. Which is why, just a few verses earlier, Paul gives us the critical how-to: “Be filled with the Spirit.”

Being filled with the Spirit allows us to love others in ways that don’t always come naturally. It empowers us to let go of our self-centered desires and live lives marked by things like patience, goodness, gentleness, and self-control.3 And it marks us with the same self-sacrificing humility that Jesus displayed, whether He was washing His disciples’ dirty feet or, as Philippians 2:8 puts it, humbling Himself and becoming “obedient to death — even death on a cross!”

This Philippians passage, with its call to “have the same mindset as Christ Jesus” (2:5) — loving as He did, pursuing unity as He did, putting others first as He did — offers a template for our relationships.4 Early in our marriage, Robbie and I heard Dr. Tony Evans talk about what this pattern looked like in his own marriage. Having purposed to value each other’s interests ahead of their own, Evans and his wife began going out of their way to help each other. At some point, Evans said, it became a contest — one he found himself losing.

“I couldn’t believe it,” Evans said with a laugh. “She was out serving me. I had to figure out how to catch up!”

Evans’s message took hold in our hearts, and Robbie and I began looking for opportunities to honor each other. Robbie likes things tidy, and while I knew I couldn’t match his mother’s “get the dust off the top of the refrigerator” talent, the kids and I began playing “beat the buzzer” every night before he came home. I’d set the kitchen timer and we’d scramble to pick up toys and clean the counters. On my good days, I’d even rummage in my purse to find the lip gloss as Robbie’s car pulled into the driveway. (And if I just lost half of the women readers, I’m sorry. But never once did I feel like I was caught in some 1950s time warp. Instead, I saw these little acts of service — and my lips, on some days — as, to use our friend Davis’s word, “beautiful.”)

For his part, Robbie began doing things like vacuuming my (dog-hair-and-Cheerios-infested) car or bringing me coffee — sometimes from an actual coffee shop, which he knows is my love language and counts double on the service scale, since a little part of him dies inside every time he pays for something we can get for free at home.

Serve your spouse. Cherishing them as precious.

Somewhere along the way — we can’t pinpoint when — something shifted inside us. We began to truly enjoy these tangible ways to show love and respect. It became, like our friend Lisa says, a “pleasure and a delight.” And although I don’t feel deserving of Robbie’s tenderness, the word he uses for the way he regards me is cherish, and when I noticed that a book by that title had been published, I grabbed it.

“Millions of couples,” writes author Gary Thomas, “have pledged ‘to love and to cherish, till death do us part.’” Most of us understand the love part and the implied vow to serve and commit to one another, but it is the act of cherishing, Thomas says, that “turns marriage from an obligation into a delight. It lifts marriage above a commitment to a precious priority.”5

Serving your spouse — cherishing them as precious — looks different in every marriage. Bob took his children to garage sales on Saturday mornings, not because they needed more stuff, but because it gave his wife, Anne, a chance to have the house to herself at the start of the weekend. Whit turns the bed down every night and puts his wife, Susan’s, iPad on her pillow, since he knows she loves to read. I stopped wearing ruffles (after having an umpteen hundred of them on my puffball of a wedding dress) when I learned (later) that they don’t appeal to Robbie.

None of these things are “grand” gestures. They may go unmarked by everyone but our spouse. And yet

in a social media age when everyone wants to be seen and noticed, it is exactly these little gifts of time, these self-sacrificing kindnesses, that kindle lasting love in a marriage. “Real romance,” writes Ann Voskamp, “isn’t measured by how viral any wedding proposal goes — and viral is closely associated with sickness — but it’s the moments of self-forgetfulness: Setting the table at the end of a long day and rustling up some hearty dish for those who have your heart, and then — without any cameras rolling or soundtracks playing — clearing the plates to make your own love perfectly clear — this is the way of robust romance.”6

Robust romance. Isn’t that what we all want? The way to get there isn’t through grasping; it is through yielding. Yielding our plans, our desires, our very self — and submitting out of reverence for the One who is Love Himself to the one whom we cherish.

Remember

Serve one another humbly in love. — Galatians 5:13

Reflect

We love because God first loved us. The more we soak up this truth, the more our love will increase and overflow for our spouse. Think about your own awareness of God’s love for you. Do you sense His delight? Do you feel forgiven? Can you trace a link between your relationship with the Lord and your desire to serve and honor your spouse?"'

Titus 3:1; 1 Peter 4:10; Galatians 5:13. Ephesians 5:18. These traits and the other fruit of the Spirit are listed in Galatians 5:22–23 (ESV). Philippians 2:5. Gary Thomas, Cherish: The One Word That Changes Everything for Your Marriage (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2017), 17. Ann Voskamp, Waymaker: Finding the Way to the Life You’ve Always Dreamed Of (Nashville: W Publishing, 2022), 71. Excerpted with permission from Praying the Scriptures for Your Marriage by Jodie & Robbie Berndt, copyright Jodie Berndt.

[honeytae]

You’re distracting the chef, sweetheart.

hey guys! so…this is literally just domestic bliss with yoongi…need i say more? no but this is such a self indulgent piece i really just…love me some husband material which is exactly what yoongi is. i hope you all enjoy this as much as i do </3

tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy, @the1921-monsters

genre: fluff

warnings: tooth rotting ‼️

word count: 1.4k

Your eyes followed the stitches of the pillow beside your head, knitting your eyebrows at the peculiar sewing pattern.

Flicking the fabric with your thumb, you broke your eyes’ fixation off the object with a shake of your head, a disgruntled noise echoing through your chest.

So this was boredom.

With a frown, your eyes flickered across the couch to Yoongi as his leg bumped yours in his slight shift of position, settling back into the pillows behind him with his right arm holding his phone above his face.

Sighing, you watched your boyfriend from where you were perched on the opposite side of the sofa, the man seeming perfectly content with the otherwise silence and mundane air in your apartment as he scrolled through his twitter feed.

Not that you could blame him. Days like this in his schedule were far and few between, where you could lay around together like this. But you were beginning to get restless, feeling the need to get up and do something before you died of boredom.

Frowning, you sighed slightly louder, pout increasing when he either didn’t hear you, or acted like he hadn’t. Unbothered, your boyfriend continued his useless scrolling of his thumb on his phone screen, while you itched out of sheer nothingness across from him.

“Yoongi.”

Showing his surprise, Yoongi raised his eyebrows at you, lowering his phone to lay flat on his chest as you pushed your foot against his knee.

“What’s that for?” He chuckled, catching your foot in his palm and soothing his fingers along your knobby ankles.

His features twisted in amusement from his perch on the pillows, dancing his fingertips across the top of your foot mindlessly.

“‘M bored.” You shrugged, the man snorting back another laugh as you needily pushed your foot further into his hold.

“I don’t know what you want me to do about that, love.” He replied smugly, a shrug of his shoulder making you scoff as you pulled your foot out of his hands.

“Now you’re just being mean.” You crossed your arms stubbornly, letting the man take your limb back in his hand as he soothingly trailed his palm up and down your calf.

His eyes sparkled in amusement at your stature, the attitude radiating off of you in waves that made him hum in the back of his throat.

“Okay, okay, let’s see, what do kids do when they’re bored?” He wondered aloud, casting his eyes up to the ceiling as he lazily smirked at your offended gasp in the background.

“Did you just compare me to a kid?” Placing your palm on his thigh to boost yourself up into a sitting position, your jaw dropped as he absentmindedly hummed in the back of his throat.

“Well why don’t we look into the Grandpa agenda then? Wanna try some geriatric activities?” You quipped, Yoongi laughing through his nose at your sass.

“I’d love that, actually.” He said, grinning when you groaned in frustration. Settling his hands on your kneecaps, he gripped them in a gentle squeeze, nodding at you once with a fond smile.

“Alright, Grumpy. C’mon.” He gestured for you to stand up with him, grunting as the motion stretched at his muscles, rolling his eyes when you muttered another grandpa remark under your breath.

With a hand gripping your wrist, Yoongi guided you until you were daintily draped over the stool at the island in your kitchen, facing the oven as he stuck his head in the fridge.

“What are you doing? I don’t want any more tea and scones.” You smirked, the man exhaling a scoff as he straightened his back out into a standing position, arms cradling an array of ingredients as he walked over to set them all out across the counter.

The way he did his signature waddle across the room had you smiling immediately, your grin barely hidden by the clamp of your teeth down on your bottom lip.

“You better watch it over there. I’ll mess the sauce up on purpose.” He teasingly wagged his finger at you, making you giggle as you fondly watched him retrieve the necessary pans and measuring tools he needed for his sudden plan.

“Are you cooking for me, Min?” You asked, eyebrows raising as he immediately nodded in response.

You were truly of no use in the kitchen, something both you and Yoongi were well aware of three years into your relationship.

Too many near-oven fires had occurred, blackened pans and smokey kitchens leading to an all out ban of you using any of the kitchen appliances without his supervision.

So Yoongi was perfectly content with him doing all the cooking and you doing all the observing, occasionally prompting you to open up the oven for him or set a timer for precisely thirteen minutes, otherwise it’ll get soggy.

“I am. Someone seems a little grumpy, and what better cure for grumpiness than jjajangmyeon?” He posed with a small smile, grinning wider when he spotted your pout out of the corner of his eye.

“I am not grumpy.” You said, whiny in your tone as he chuckled at you.

“That seems like something a grumpy person would say.” He shrugged smugly, lining the knife up with the zucchini before concentrating on slicing the vegetable up to the desired amount.

Staring at him for a moment, you admired the man in front of you, bottom lip tucked into his mouth as he scrunched his eyes in concentration. The veins in his hands bulged slightly as he gripped the last stub of the zucchini, slowing down his kniving to not risk a finger.

Looking at him, you couldn’t imagine a more lovable human.

His soft stomach pressed up against the counter, equally soft hair hanging over his forehead, socked feet bumping against the cabinet every so often as he shifted along the floor.

“You’re staring.” He suddenly spoke up, making your eyes drift up expectantly to his face, pulling your eyebrows together when you noticed his back was still to you.

You could hear the smile in his voice as he transferred the vegetables to a side plate, reaching for the leftover pork from the other day to slice that up as well for your impromptu lunch.

He was obviously proud of catching you in the act, not that you cared.

“You’re hot.” You shamelessly responded from behind him, the man shaking his head with a shy chuckle as you tapped your fingers against the counter beneath you.

“This is hot? This does it for you?” He grinned as he lifted the anime patterned cutting board he’d been using, a gift from one of his aunts on a birthday nearly a decade ago now.

Laughing, you hopped off the counter with a shove of your hands against the marble, practically floating over to your man. A clatter of the knife he’d been using against the counter was soon followed by him wrapping his now free arm around you with a fond smile.

Neglecting his dish for even a moment was something Yoongi swore against in the kitchen, but when it came to you, he couldn’t care less.

Besides, if he messed it up, you’d be paying for it anyway.

“Hm. I love when you get all domestic on me.” You murmured, laying your head on his shoulder as he dipped down to press a lingering kiss to your hair.

Tilting your chin up to look at him, you found nothing but pure adoration in his dark brown orbs, your heart leaping in your chest at the familiar warmth spreading throughout your body.

Familiar, as it was the same feeling that ignited your heart each and every time he looked at you like that.

Both leaning into each other, eyes flitting closed, your lips met in a tender kiss, enjoying the exciting spark that still happened via the action.

It was moments like this when you were convinced of the fact that you were the love of this life and the next for him, and him yours.

His tongue felt smooth against your own, gentle yet passionate in the way it swept around your mouth and tangled with your own muscle.

Blindly setting the cutting board back onto the counter, he neglected the tray in favor of your hips, gripping and massaging at the flesh with a low hum as he pulled you flush to him.

Your hands were doing much of the same, mapping out the landscape of his toned back with your palms as your fingers appreciatively dug into his soft flesh.

Humming, he broke apart from you for only a moment, chuckling when you surged forward to chase after his mouth.

“Ah ah ah. You’re distracting the chef, sweetheart.”

Staring at him with your mouth gaped, Yoongi only laughed in response, pressing a feather light kiss to your forehead before stepping back to continue his chopping work.

“You’re,” you paused at a loss for words, “you’re so mean.” You said, baffled at his teasing as he chuckled in response.

“Just trying to make sure you get your jjajangmyeon, angel.”

Once the dish of noodles was steaming and ready to eat, he blushed slightly at your praise when he finished plating, turning you back toward the island with a nudge of his elbow to your spine along with a bashful smile gracing his face.

“Just eat it, you brat.”

[final-fantasy-imagines]

Hello! New to your blog! Saw request are open! Yayyy! May I request a Cloud Strife drabble were reader is allergic to flowers and since Cloud hangs around Aerith they sneeze a lot and he gets confused as to why they tend to slightly avoid him since he kind of likes them- the reader does too.

Hey there! Welcome to my blog, I hope you'll have a great time here. <3 Thank you for your request, I really liked the idea and I hope I did it justice. Take care and stay safe!

Bless you, sneezy – Cloud Strife x gn!reader

“(Y/N)! It’s so good to see you again!”

Cloud looked up from his drink at Tifa’s cheerful greetings. She was smiling, just like she always did when a new customer entered her bar but this time, she seemed to be truly excited. And he could totally understand why.

Because he was excited, too, although he actually managed to fight back the smile that had started to form on his lips as soon as he heard you say, “Hi, Tifa!”

He always acted like that when he was around you – well, not always. In the beginning of your acquaintanceship, he had been quite approachable, at least for his usual standards, and had even initiated a conversation with you from time to time, unlike he did with others. He had valued your company, catching himself admiring you every so often.

But now… well, he wasn’t so sure if you actually shared the sympathy he felt for you.

Cloud turned his face away and pretended to focus on his drink when you approached the bar. You gave him a nod and greeted him with a brief “Oh, hi Cloud!” before returning your attention to Tifa who was already reaching out for a glass to pour you your favorite drink.

From the corner of his eye, Cloud could see the smile that flashed over your face as you thanked her before picking up your glass and looking around to find the perfect spot to sit. He pressed his lips together, watching you as you purposely overlooked the empty barstool right next to him to sit down at the other end of the bar counter, ensuring that there were two seats empty between the two of you.

He held back a sigh. “Hi, (Y/N),” he mumbled, his voice way too quiet for you to actually hear it but as it seemed, you weren’t interested in a conversation anyway.

And recently, it was always like that. You avoided him all the time, keeping your distance whenever you had to be in the same room, despite the fact that you had actually gotten along quite well in the beginning. He didn’t understand where things had gone wrong, and he had no idea what he should do to fix it. Not to mention that there was a nagging fear that everything he could try would make your relationship even worse.

He took a sip from his drink, one of Tifa’s new creations which he always got to try before she served it to other customers, while he continued to watch you, almost as if he could figure out what you were thinking just by staring at you.

You weren’t paying attention to him. Instead, you were focused on chitchatting with Tifa, telling her about your day while you stirred your drink with your straw. Then, all of a sudden, you scrunched up your nose, a few tears welling up in your eyes – and then, you quickly buried your face in your hands before letting out a heart-wrenching sneeze.

“Bless you,��� Tifa said but another sneeze coming from you drowned her word out.

Cloud’s eyes widened when you sneezed a third time. Why did it sound so goddamn adorable? He wasn’t supposed to find everything about you cute! And still, he somehow did.

You sniffled and pulled a tissue out of your pocket to blow your nose. “Geez,” you mumbled, wiping the tears from your eyes. “Damn allergies.”

Cloud was still staring at you. And then, before he could stop himself, he asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m just… I have allergies. Some things just make me sneeze all the time. No need to worry.”

“Oh,” he replied slowly. You sniffled again. “Yeah. It’s usually not that bad but-“

Another sneeze cut you short, and you laughed; a quiet, awkward laugh. “Well – whenever you’re near it seems to get even worse.”

He wasn’t sure whether you were joking or not but it probably didn’t matter anyway. “What kind of allergies?” he pumped you in an almost desperate attempt to keep the conversation going, now that you were finally talking to him again.

“Flowers, mostly,” you replied and shrugged. “But there must be something else as well because – well, I guess, you don’t spend your time surrounded by flowers, so that can’t be the explanation why I apparently can’t,” you paused and pinched the bridge of your nose when you felt the familiar tingle building up again, “stop sneezing around you.”

Cloud frowned. Then, when he fully understood what you were trying to say, a surprised chuckle escaped his throat. Could it really be that simple?

“Actually, I do,” he said slowly. You raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“I do spend a lot of time around flowers,” he explained, shaking his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe that’s why you’ve been avoiding me. I thought – well, I thought it had something to do with me. That you started to dislike me or something.”

“You – what?” You looked at him, your eyes filled with utter confusion before you started to laugh. “Cloud, I’m not avoiding you! Or, maybe I do but that’s not because I don’t like you. It’s because you smell like flowers all the damn time and the constant sneezing is really annoying!”

“This is ridiculous.” Cloud shook his head once again, completely baffled by his own stupidity. The whole situation could have been so much easier if he had just asked you about the sudden change in your behavior instead of visiting Aerith over and over again, unknowingly making things worse with every hour he had spent with the flower girl to ask her for advice regarding you.

You rolled your eyes but there was also a soft smile tugging at the corners of your mouth when you stood up and sat down on the barstool next to him, ignoring the fact that your eyes started to water again. “You really thought I didn’t like you?” “Well, what was I supposed to think? Whenever we met, you either turned around and left immediately or you spent the entire time on the other side of the room!”

“Because you make me sneeze!”

The two of you laughed, earning an amused smile from Tifa while she polished a glass. Then, you reached out for his hand. “Cloud,” you said softly, “I’m sorry. I should have taken the time to explain my allergy to you instead of avoiding you.”

He looked at you, an almost tender expression in his blue eyes, and your breath hitched in your throat. “Nevermind. I understand it now.”

For a few seconds, you kept staring at each other, unwittingly leaning in until you were so close to him that you could smell the sweet scent of flowers again. And, as if by command, you had to turn away to sneeze, effectively spoiling the mood.

“Cloud, I really like you but please go and change your clothes, or else I will sneeze myself to death when I try to kiss your stupid face.”

[queen-haq]

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 10

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 10

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language and smut.

Words: ~2000 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost...

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 8   Part 9

Part 10

Hot on your trails, Billy followed you to the women’s bathroom. When the bathroom attendant chastised him for barging in there, he shot her an irritated glance. “You want to help her puke?” Billy asked pointedly as you ran to the toilet. The attendant put her hands up in the air and moved back, leaving him to take care of you. He pulled your hair back, holding the strands away from your face while you retched.

You groaned, sounding like you were dying.

“I know. It sucks. Just let it out. You’ll feel better,” he consoled, rubbing your back.

“Didn’t… even…drink… so… much… want… to… die…”

He chuckled.

“I’m sorry… don’t want you to see me like this…”

“I’ve seen worse,” Billy assured. Serving as long as he had with the guys from his unit, puke was nothing new to him. He flushed the toilet using his foot after you’d finally stopped gagging. After he helped you to the sink and you washed your face and hands thoroughly, he patted your face dry with napkins. There were a bunch of supplies on one corner of the table. Spotting the mouthwash, Billy picked up the bottle, handing the attendant a $50 bill, and brought it to you. You rinsed your mouth while he studied your reflection in the mirror. “You okay?”

You nodded your head ‘yes’, almost like a child. You were usually so calm and collected around him that it was strange to see you ruffled like this. Actually, it was adorable.

When he saw you close your eyes, he snaked his hand around your waist in case you lost your balance again.

“I want to go home,” you mumbled, turning around in his arms.

“I’ll take you.”

Your eyes were wet and glassy, filled with sleep. You gazed up at him with the dopiest expression on your face and if you hadn’t just puked, he would have kissed you. He was used to feeling all kinds of emotions when it came to you, lust, anger, frustration and so much more, but this was the first time he felt a pang of tenderness towards you and he didn’t know what to make of it. This wasn’t something he was familiar with at all.

“I have to tell Davina. She’ll worry.”

Smoothing your hair, he tucked in a loose strand behind your ear. “Want to go say bye?”

You nodded your head.

Billy held you in his arms as he led you back upstairs to the club, stopping at one of the bars to grab water for you. He spotted Davina sitting at the booth, talking to some guy, but she stood up immediately when she caught sight of him and you. Billy noted the immediate disapproval on her face. Frankly he didn’t give a fuck about what your friends thought of him but he knew how close you were to Davina. Her opinion mattered to you, and so he had to play nice and learn to get along with her.

Davina stood up and met Billy and you halfway, her eyes full of concern. “Are you okay, Y/N?”

“I think I’m done,” you sighed. “I want to go home.”

“I’ll go with you,” Davina offered. “Let me just grab Kiran from the dance floor-”

“No, you stay. Have fun with your cute guy.”

Billy scowled. Apparently you weren’t so drunk that you didn’t notice other guys. “I’ll take her home,” he said, tightening his grip around your waist.

Davina cast him a suspicious glance before shifting his attention back to you. “You don’t have to go with him. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I’m not going to rape her when she’s asleep if that’s what you’re worried about,” he snapped, trying - and failing - to keep the irritation out of his voice.

“He won’t, he’s not like that,” you assured, shaking your head vigorously.

So you were angry enough to block him but at least you still trusted him. That was something, he supposed. “Can I take her home now? Or are we gonna keep discussing if I’m a rapist?”

You turned to look up at him, your intoxicated eyes pleading with him. “Can we leave?”

Davina grabbed his elbow, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “Don’t you dare touch her when she’s wasted!”

“I won’t. Unless she begs me to,” he smirked, purposely goading your friend. Even though he had no intention of taking advantage of you when you were hammered, he felt no need to justify his motives or actions to another person. Before Davina pissed him off any further, he started leading you out of the club. You were resting your head on his chest while he retrieved your jacket from coat check. When he wrapped the coat around you, you snuggled into the fabric and moved away from him.

It was freezing cold outside and you started shivering. Immediately he pressed you flush against him to keep you warm. As the two of you walked down the street, his eyes fell on the very high heels you were wearing. “You okay to walk on those? My car is a block away.”

“Do you like my shoes?”

He smiled, indulging you. “They’re fucking gorgeous.”

“Like you!”

“Did you just compare me to your shoes?”

“As if,” you snickered, your voice simultaneously naughty and sweet. “My shoes mean a lot more to me than you.”

“Bitch!” he scoffed.

As you giggled in response, his attention was drawn to the low-cut neckline of your outfit beneath your open coat. God, your tits looked absolutely amazing tonight. He was struck by the memory of the time he’d made you come by simply sucking on your nipples, teasing them with his tongue, and you had spent the entire time moaning underneath him. You fucking loved it almost as much as when he ate you out. Billy gave himself a mental shake, telling himself to snap out of it. “How come you never dress like this when we go out?” he asked, hoping for a distraction.

The smile on your face disappeared, you didn’t say anything. You were quiet, too quiet. He didn’t like it when you were all in your head with your thoughts, shutting yourself off to him. The last time you did that, you stormed out of his life and blocked him. Fuck if he was going to let you do that again. Reaching for your hand, he laced his fingers through yours.

“We never went out. All we ever did was have sex.”

He flashed a cocky smile. “Oh, yeah.” He squeezed your hand. “I miss that.”

“What? Sex?” You sniggered. “It can’t have been that long. When was the last time you slept with someone?”

“A week ago, with you.” He felt your body tense at his answer. “And then you told me to fuck off and stopped taking my calls.” A bitter laugh escaped his throat. “Guess it wasn’t as great for you as it was me.”

You didn’t respond, quiet again, and he didn’t feel like pressing the matter in case you got angry.

Finally reaching his car, he opened it remotely. “Y/N, look at me.” You turned to him, staring up at him all doe-eyed again. “You can’t get sick in my car.” He palmed your face, trying to impress upon you the importance of his words. The Wraith was the first thing he’d bought when he finally started earning enough money and it meant the world to him. Next to Anvil, it was his most treasured possession. “Okay?”

You glanced at the car, exhaling a heavy sigh. “I should call an Uber.”

“No, I’m taking you home. You just can’t puke in my car.”

You turned back to him, frowning. “But I might and I don’t want to ruin it.” You pulled out your phone. “I’ll just call-”

He snatched the phone away from you, sliding it stealthily inside his jacket pocket. “Fine. Don’t worry about it. I can get it cleaned.” He walked to the passenger side and held the door open for you. Seeing how hesitant and worried you appeared, Billy regretted broaching the subject in the first place. “Hey,” he stroked your right cheek. “It’s not a big deal, I swear.” He noticed you swaying on your feet without his support and he moved to help you get in the car, covering the top of your head so you didn’t hit it against the roof.

A few minutes later he’d maneuvered the car out of the parking space and was on his way to your place.

Casting you a side-long glance, he noticed you had removed your jacket, which now lay bunched around your waist, and your head was leaned back against the passenger seat. Your eyes were closed, but he knew you weren’t asleep.

“You keep staring at me,” you finally spoke, turning slightly to look at him.

Billy’s eyes trailed down to your breasts again and he felt that familiar ache in his cock. “Maybe I miss you.”

Your mouth parted slightly, like you were contemplating what to say next. “Liar.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I am lying. I don’t miss your voice, your body, your smell, your laugh.” Maintaining a steady tone, he stared straight ahead. “I don’t miss the taste of your sweet cunt, or the filthy moans out of your mouth when I’m sucking your clit. I don’t miss how good you feel when I’m inside you and you’re begging me to fuck you harder.” Coming to a stop at a red light, he shifted his attention to you. Your breathing was shallow, your piercing gaze locked with his. “I don’t miss how you always razz me, how snarky you are, how you bite your bottom lip when you’re thinking. I hate when you come into a room and put on your charming act, everyone just gravitates towards you like you’re a fucking ray of sunshine or something. I hate how fucking brilliant you are, how smart. Your mind doesn’t fascinate me at all, and I don’t spend any of my fucking time thinking about what’s going on in that brain of yours.”

Billy noticed how you swallowed thickly, how you were squeezing your thighs together. Your skin was flushed, your breaths coming out in shallow spurts.

“I don’t want you. I don’t like you. I don’t miss you,” he murmured, his voice rasp with lust.

His words had the desired effect. You couldn’t take it anymore. Desperate to get off, your hand slipped between your thighs and you started rubbing yourself.

“Take off your fucking pants,” he growled. “I want to see your pussy. Want to see how wet you are.”

“Can’t… one-piece…”

As frustrated as he was at not being able to do what he wanted, he was still mesmerized by what you were doing to yourself. Your quiet moans had grown louder, more desperate. It was heaven watching you come undone. It was also sheer hell because he couldn’t fuck you himself.

As if reading his mind, you shifted closer, your body facing him. His eyes drifted down to your breasts again, barely covered, and he reached out to touch them. His fingers delved beneath the fabric of your top to tweak your nipples, playing with them, caressing them, until they were hardened nubs, ready to be sucked and licked by him. His mouth watered at the sight of your puckered nipples. God, he was so fucking hard.

Then you took his hand and guided it down to your cunt, urging him to play with you. He felt how wet you were through your clothes, you were so fucking turned on. He rubbed your pussy expertly, tapping and teasing your clit, and the guttural moans that were coming from your mouth only aroused him more. With you, even dry humping was hot.

It only took a few more seconds for you to come, and when you did you were all soft murmurs and tender sighs and it took everything he had not to pull you onto his lap and fuck you right then and there.

His hand crept up to your breast, resting over your heart as you slowly returned to the world. When you opened your eyes again to look at him, they were brimming with emotions. “Thank you.”

He smirked. “You’re welcome.”

“I owe you a blow job.”

His eyebrow quirked up. “Suck me off because you want to, not because you think you owe me.”

The innocence displayed in your smile completely belied your wicked words. “I like sucking you off.”

His hand reached out to play with your hair. “Good.” He winked at you. “Feel free to start any second now.”

“I’m not blowing you when you’re driving! I want to get home alive.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, pouting.

You simply smirked in response.

Soon, a comfortable quiet fell over the two of you which was an unusual experience for Billy. Years of working recon meant waiting, watching, studying the enemy, the atmosphere charged and tense before chaos struck and the inevitable happened. But this was different. The tension was sexual, the dread non-existent. There was just him and you, and it was perfect.

Your phone buzzed in the inside pocket of his jacket, which made him wonder if the loser you’d been talking to was now calling you. Fucker really had no game if he was calling you so quickly. Eager prick.

“Did you mean it?” you asked, breaking the silence.

“What?”

“What you said in the club. About killing the guy who was hitting on me.”

Apparently you could read his thoughts now. “Every fucking word.”

You sat up, your eyes fiery and volatile. “You have no right to interfere in my life, Billy.”

“I have every right.”

“How would you feel if I started harassing you about the women you sleep with? What if I went all psycho on them?”

He turned into the parking lot of your building and parked his car at a visitor’s spot. After unbuckling his belt, he turned to you, fisting the back of your head. Your breath hitched in your throat, like you weren’t prepared for his close proximity. “Ask me, Y/N. Ask me how many women I’m fucking.” He waited for you to speak, to ask the question, but, instinctively, he knew you wouldn’t. “You’re not going to ask me, because the truth scares you.”

“Of course it scares me!” you snapped. “I have no idea if you’re using condoms with these other women, if you’re exposing me to god knows what.”

Your defensive tone meant he was getting close to the truth. His fingers started playing with your right ear. “If I’m only fucking you, and I only want you, then you can’t use me as an excuse to run from us anymore. Terrifying, isn’t it?”

Fear flashed across your face, all your emotions on display for him to read.

Billy leaned back and winked at you, smiling smugly. Jackpot.

Part 11

A/N - Thank you so much for your continued support! I hope you guys are still reading and enjoying the fic. As always, thank you for the likes, reblogs, the comments that I cherish so much and your asks/messages. If you’d like to be add/removed from the tag list, please drop me a note.

Tag List:

@yourfavoritefruitybitch @voyevoda-thejoy @adreamemporium @queenmalhinewahine  @gubleryum @galaxyjane  @xceafh @maralisa124 @tomhollandisabae @daybleedsintonightfa11 @lil-baby-nor @all-art-is-quite-useless  @tanyaherondale  @nashibirne  @dour-trash  @thetallassgirl @athenamikaelson  @agent-jbarnes  @primadonnasdream  @aleksanderwh0r3  @elisemockingbird @nihilismworld @archisur @nemesis729  @lysawayne @kaqua @ladyblablabla @lemasonda @advictedtohim @24-martie   @tarkanelima-blog @shinebrightlikeafanbase  @krystal-clear1 @damalseer @dontjinx-it @darkishx   @wanderlusting-about-life @thatguppienamedbae @happypepperdog @bat-revival  @sassygirl25  @consulting--heroes  @the-celestial-kitsune  @mackaywhore  @ablxssm @competitive-dust @red-head011 @exo-1204 @sunsetenigma @millieb-3199 @chatnain @licensedcheek @tinkertailor1212 @vertesalope @safetyhtom @acourtofglassandroses @eliwinchester-barnes @finnismyoriginalsin @weallhaveadestiny   @beananacake @beauty-and-the-beast97 @smurfelle  @fire-treasure-iii  @charly-0  @kestrafagnor  @pigwidgeonxo  @damagelove  @allegra-writes @pensandthings  @jad3djay  @batshitbarnes  @kashimayuki  @secretsthathauntus @odetostep  @awesome-eccia    @mackaywhore  @stories-you-wont-hear  @vvsdiamond28 @supernaturalcat7 @arieltwvdtohamflash   @iknownoqueenbutthequeeninme  @devs-stufff  @ticosas  @moodacheeks @myakai13  @carlywhomever  @fvckthisbxtchup  @its-evita-here @papapapadumb  @talesfrommycell  @bat-luna-cat    @fific7   @elluvians @dailydoseofchoices  @everythinghappens-love  @papapapadumb  @mylife-love-and-other-things  @bigcreatorwombatdreamer  @ancientbeing10  @natty2245  @stuckysavedmylive  @kasslucilfer  @simp-for-ben-barners   @originaldeputycalzoneegg  @bdffkierenwalker  @kimoranelson03  @sadbi-hours

Gif Credit: @bilyrusso

[soyeahitsmiddleearth]

hello! i was wondering if you could write the following request; you are a member of the Brotherhood, the most dangerous assassins league of Middle Earth. To say that the Company of Thorin Oakenshield is both impressed and intimidated is an understatement.

The Company/Reader: Killer Good Looks pt.1

Trigger Warnings: Referenced assault and child abuse, murder

----

To say you're an excellent fighter would be a gross understatement.

You're the very definition of a rogue; you like shiny things, you're stealthy, cunning, persuasive, what are we missing...? Oh! And you're also an infamous deadly assassin for hire, and you get hired alright.

You're wanted (in more ways than one), for people are always looking for someone to fulfill their dirty deeds for them.

Almost everything is on the table with you; you'll steal things for people (and yourself), kill if the price is right, infiltrate and lie, and many other things, however, there are some things off limits.

For example, you won't kill kids. You never have and you never will, you flat out refuse; you also don't sell yourself to others for pleasure or other things of inappropriate nature; and, most importantly of all, you don't kill those whom you have a relationship with (meaning you don't kill friends, though those are few and far between).

When you were but a child your parents sold you off to put bread on their table, and you knew nothing but torment from that moment on.

For months the lady's husband would sneak into your rooms at night, and she would always pretend not to notice; she took to releasing her frustrations out on you under the false pretense that you were an issue, beating you, berating you, yelling, abusing; they were horrible people taking advantage of a 10 year old child in every way imaginable.

You felt no remorse when you finally gathered the courage to slit their throats one night, and to this day you still don't.

The news of your deeds spread quickly, for they proved to be quite shocking and a wonderful topic for conversation.

A mere child servant manages to kill their masters unseen and unheard, escaping into the night never to be seen again? That would catch anyones attention. And it certainly caught the attention of The Brotherhood.

They found you, took you in, and honed your sloppy skills to make you into the perfect, lethal weapon.

You've killed more people than you can count, stolen more than even the richest man has, and lied to everyone you've ever met at least once.

It's safe to say that you're not exactly a stand up citizen.

Your name, as well as the name of the organization who taught you all you know, is well known throughout Middle Earth which is why you were, ultimately, employed to assist and protect the line of Durin in their journey to reclaim Erebor...

Except, unbeknownst to them, you have ulterior orders from The Brotherhood regarding the operation.

Once the dragon is either confirmed dead or slain and the mountain is reclaimed, you are to kill the Durin's (and anyone else who stands in your way) and claim the mountain for The Brotherhood.

When you were first given this assignment you had no qualms with it.

Yes, dwarfs are strong, brave, and resilient, but you are fast, intelligent, and one of the best fighters in the organization because of your early start and ability to disconnect yourself from almost every situation. Also, you don't know them, any of them, and you've never had trouble killing royal, powerful people before.

It was supposed to be easy.

You joined the group in a cute little place called The Shire in a hobbit hole belonging to one Bilbo Baggins, and when you met everyone you figured that killing them would be easy, but as time went on you began to forget about your mission.

Everything started out simple. You didn't talk much and they stayed away from you for the most part; partially out of intimidation, but also from reservations on disturbing you.

You're a private person, and they'd hate to make you dislike them by being nosy or prying.

Gandalf is the only one who knows of your past, but even knowing who you truly are, he never for a second suspected what your true purpose was.

It's around the time you all leave Rivendell and return to the road when things start to change.

Thorin wanted to keep a schedule and reach the Misty Mountains before the end of the 4th week, and halfway into the 4th, you're already there are the entrance to the mountain pass.

Because the group makes such excellent time Thorin chooses to reward the group with a day and night full of rest to spend restocking supplies, regrouping, and relaxing, which is something that benefits you all greatly.

By this point, you've worked up enough 'trust' to actually sleep in short bursts around them, and you take full advantage of this day of rest to regain your strength.

At some point during the night you manage to fall asleep, and hen you wake you find that you managed to pass out for a good 4 hours.

The very first thing you notice is Dwalin sitting not far from you, and the blanket draped over your resting form.

To say you're taken off guard would be an understatement, for you never expected to be treated with such tenderness (or at least, tenderness by your definition considering the life you've lead).

"Dwalin...?" You call after a time of looking ahead, wanting to find out his motivations.

His gaze snaps over to you and a small, greeting smile falls upon his lips, "Good evening. It is mid-night, I'm sure you'd like to know."

You glance briefly up at the sky and observe the position of the moon and stars and find that he's correct, then your gaze returns to his face. "I see. What are you doing over here, though?"

The balding dwarf looks a tad more sheepish when you ask your question, and his voice contains slight embarrassment, "Well, we know you don't much like sleeping around us, or in general, so I thought that keeping watch here may help you feel even a bit safer."

Those words shock you to your very core.

"You'll always be safe with us, you should know. You protect us in waking, so the least we can do is return the favor in sleeping."

Any and all responses that come to your mind in this moment seem inadequate in comparison to his declaration, so you're left sitting there looking at him with a blank, yet dumbfounded stare.

"You needn't say anything in response. I just thought you should know." Another smile graces upon his lips, and then his attention turns back out towards the darkened tree line surrounding the mini camp in a half circle. "Sleep more if the desire is to suddenly strike you."

And, for some odd reason, you do.

---

For the first time in what has to be years, you sleep through the night and do not wake again until the sun beckons you to do so.

When the first light shines through the trees and makes the forest sparkle with morning magic, you arise and find that a new dwarf, Ori, has taken the place of Dwalin.

A feeling, one that you can't identify, rises within you, and you find yourself unable to handle it.

"Ori." You greet curtly, "I am going to depart for a time. Expect me back in 20 minutes."

The young dwarf looks up at you and nods shallowly, not even entertaining the thought that you would need an escort. "Alright. Get back safely."

His words linger with you after you leave, for the act of being cared for is alien to you.

When was the last time someone genuinely cared for your well-being and not just what they would lose if you were to perish? When was the last time someone thought of you as a person who could be harmed instead of a weapon that maybe tarnished every-so-often?

These thoughts plague your mind as you go to search the game traps you lay around the camp the morning before, and you find that the prize is well worth the early journey.

3 rabbits, 2 squirrels, and a wild hog around 2 feet long and a foot wide. The hog you caught along the way, actually. It had been sniffing around one of the game traps you sent (the trap wouldn't have been strong enough to hold it anyways), and you wasted no time in throwing a dagger straight into its' head.

You string up the rabbits into a line of rope and carry the hog over your shoulders (it's really heavy, so you made sure to evenly distribute the weight), and then you head straight for the group with your prizes in hand.

When you enter the clearing you're noticed immediately, for the game hanging from your body draw a lot of attention.

"Odin's beard!" Gloin exclaims, jumping up from his spot once his eyes fall upon you, "Look at all of that!"

All eyes are on you as soon as the red-haired dwarf alerts them to your presence, but you maintain a mask of nothing even despite your discomfort with being the center of attention.

"Where did you get all that?" Fili calls, getting up and approaching you to help carry the load.

You shrug off the line of rabbits and squirrels to him when he begins to tug on it and bring the hog to the middle of the camp, dropping it down heavily.

Bombur looks up at you with a grand smile and praises you in his low, baritone voice, "Well will you look at that! Now that's a hog."

You dip your head in acknowledgement of his compliments and offer right after, "Do you want me to skin them?"

"Oh, no, no! You have done more enough for us, we can manage that at the very least." The older dwarf assures you, patting the fat belly of the swine, "Thank you, lass. We haven't had a commendable meal in months, so this will be a real treat."

You received so many compliments and acclimations that you almost began to blush, but that's an unconscious ability that had left you a long time ago.

Everyone traveled with full bellies that afternoon, and there was plenty of leftovers to last everyone well into the next day as well.

Things like this are seldom the topic of talk or praise in the organization you work for, and you can never rely on anyone. You're all thieves, after all. Liars, tricksters, murderers... how could you trust someone like that to have your back? But... somehow, they trust you to protect them and their precious royal friends.

You: the liar, trickster, and murderer.

They sleep in your presence as if you hadn't stolen millions in treasure, product, and money; as if you hadn't killed a quarter of the people you've met in your lifetime. They trust you, the real you (or at least the realest version of you that there is), and it's a truly foreign feeling.

Of course, even though these good feelings long since lost to you have returned for a time, you keep yourself in check with the thoughts of what they would do to you if they found about your true intentions.

The images of their betrayed, angry faces, the disgust that would shine in their eyes when they realize what you're truly capable of... you're always sure to not lose sight of your end goal; the Mountain of Erebor and its' lost treasure. If you're to fail, you're certain that you'll be killed (either by the dwarfs or The Brotherhood), so you don't even entertain the thought of abandoning your mission.

---

Later in the day, during the trek up those horrible, treacherous mountains, you're approached by Bofur, the hat wearing dwarf with a smile more contagious than any sickness.

"Hello." You greet curtly when he falls into step beside you, eyeing him in your peripherals. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Oh, no." He shakes his head no and reaches up to straighten his fur hat, "You just looked a little lonely, is all."

Lonely, huh?

You don't reply right away and look ahead with your usual blank expression and dull eyes, though you do feel an uncomfortable, appreciative feeling swell inside of you. "I am not lonely." You inform him matter-of-factly, though when you glance down at his face you see that your words have slightly hurt his feelings.

Your heart twists slightly painfully when you see his saddened countenance, and before you can even think about it you're blurting out, "But I welcome the company regardless."

His frown is immediately replaced with a brilliant smile and his eyes positively shine with enthusiasm; you never thought your acceptance would garner such a reaction from him (much less anyone for that matter).

The dwarf practically talks your ear off while the 15 of you travel up the Misty Mountains, telling you everything he possibly can about his homeland, family, and feelings regarding the journey (as well as other things), and while all this incessant blathering would normally irk you, you actually find that you quite like it.

Bofur's excited speech does eventually die down when it starts to rain, though, for he and yourself both think it safer to concentrate on the hike as its level of danger grows.

It isn't long before night falls, and once it does the rain becomes a much more dangerous obstacle.

There is lower visibility and the rocks become horribly slippery, though neither of these things could ever hope to top the giant stone beasts that begin to battle right in front of you all.

The stone giants don't seem notice any of you, and if they do then they simply don't care, and you all barely escape with your lives. They throw huge boulders bigger than any building you've ever seen, and their hand-to-hand combat leaves you all shaking against the mountainside, fearful of falling to your deaths as you sway every which way.

To your, and everyone else's luck and great joy, a little cave in the mountainside appears before you all (after a horrible death scare with half of the company), and it becomes your resting spot for the night.

You, like usual, choose a spot closest to the cave entrance with rock that covers both your back and left side and fall asleep effortlessly. You plan on only resting for four or so hours, hopefully until the rain passes, and then you can resume watch so the others may regain their strength (they're heavier and bigger than you, so they need more rest and food).

Those 4 hours (and an extra half!) pass by without issue and your internal clock eventually wakes you up.

One of the first things you see when your eyes flutter open is the stone ceiling of the cave hovering above you, and the next is Bofur who sits in the little watch spot right across from your sleeping area.

You sit up as soon as your sleep addled mind clears and your blurry eyes gain focus and call softly, "Bofur, go ahead and take a rest. I can resume your watch."

The dwarf jumps slightly when your soft voice breaks through the silence and reaches out to him, but he doesn't move to get up. Instead, a small smile upturns the corners of his lips and he whispers back, "No, you do a watch of your own every night and refuse to wake anyone else up often enough. Please, go back to sleep."

He noticed that?

You can't even keep the surprise from your face, for your eyes widen almost imperceptibly and your lips part slightly. "I..." You've been shocked speechless, something that you thought impossible.

"We have all noticed, in case you're wondering. Now, go ahead and resume sleep. I've still got another 30 minutes of watch."

And, for some reason, you don't protest.

Sleep calls to you and tugs at your eyelids, making them heavy and causing your eyes to burn. What spell have they put you under to make you tired again under a simple command, you wonder?

You fall back asleep despite yourself, but it doesn't last long, for within 20 minutes after Bilbo tries to leave and the storm begins to quiet, the floor opens beneath you all and swallows everyone whole.

[myonepiece]

Hey :) which characters do you think are the best in... (sfw)

-giving loving massages

-make you lough

-help you achieving your goals and

-kissing

(Perhaps you can name five for each category)

Have a wonderful Day 🌟🌟

Characters best at: massages, making you laugh, supporting, kissing

Description: 5 characters best at massages, 5 best at making you laugh, 5 best at helping you achieve your goals, 5 best at kissing

Warnings: none

A/N: So I’m not sure if you were expecting minks, but I did included Chopper and Bepo because they have a place in this list, I hope you don’t mind! 💕

Massages

1. Marco- for one, he’s a doctor. And despite his job and position and everything, his hands are surprisingly soft. He knows the perfect amount of pressure to use as well as where to specifically massage to get rid of tension. He likes lavender oil or lotion. He doesn’t have a lot of time to do this, so it doesn’t happen a lot, so when it does it’s very romantic- candles and everything. Usually silent, but he’ll lean down and kiss you occasionally, whispering sweet words.

2. Robin- okay her devil fruit power? I mean come on. It’s so calm and quiet, a very peaceful atmosphere. She always uses lavender or floral scents and lets you talk about your day or she’ll hum a random tune, maybe tell you a story. She uses her devil fruit power to massage multiple places, like both your shoulders as well as your lower back and arms.

3. Law- another doctor so he knows the places where certain muscles are, he knows certain techniques and pressure points to rid you of all tension and pain. He likes to use scented candles and oils, mostly vanilla or lavender, calming scents. He likes this activity because it’s quiet and intimate, a moment for just the two of you.

4. Rosinante- okay I know I know, but hear me out; yes he’s clumsy, but he can learn. His movements are slow and gentle, he focuses intensely so he doesn’t mess up and hurt you. He’ll listen to your every word, if you want him to use more pressure or less, or if there’s a certain place that’s sore/hurting. He’s like Law in the fact that he likes this because it’s an intimate activity. He likes to give you massages when you’re stressed so while he works you can talk to him.

5. Chopper- another one who’s on here because he’s a doctor, but also because he’s just so sweet and concerned during it, wondering if he’s hurting you. He loves sweet scented lotions and he prefers to have conversations, about your day, interests, dreams, just everything.

Making you laugh

1. Shanks- it’s almost always purely his action. When he’s drunk or really just doing anything that’s not important. He will do practically anything to get you to laugh, he’s great at silly faces. Tickles, this man loves tickles, givig or recieving. I feel like he also has those moments where you laugh so hard it starts sounding really wierd and funny, like ugly laughing, and it’s hilarious.

2. Rosinante- again it’s mostly his everyday actions. When he falls (and doesn’t hurt himself too bad) it’s funny, and lighting himself on fire. You also have like thise language of looks, if Doffy says something stupid or is acting like a diva, Rosinante will look at you like “here we go again”. He actually also trips on purpose sometimes, because he knows you find it funny. He also knows jokes, mostly puns, mostly stupid ones. But he laughs at them so much and so hard that it makes it funny. He’s also good at tickles

3. Luffy- also purely his actions, just everything. He lives to make you smile and he’ll do anything. He uses his devil fruit to stretch his cheeks or to let you play with his face like it’s puddy. He loves tickles too, and he loves peppering you with really fast, kind of reckless little kisses that tickle. Him and Shanks are pretty similar in the ways they make their S/O laugh.

4. Usopp- his stories, I mean come on. He loves making you smile ad laugh with his stories, he’ll make them as farfetched as he can but still stick to them and claim it’s true, just because you find it funny. He’ll make up stories so unbelievably stupid that you know they can’t be true, but Usopp will still say it happened because it makes you laugh more.

5. Buggy- I feel like this doesn’t need an explanation- he’s literally a clown. For one, his nose and the fact he always thinks people are insulting him, it’s hilarious. His interactions with his crew are just pure comedic gold. He’ll get embarrassed at his actions sometimes, but when he sees you laughing he’ll forget about anyone around that’s probably judging him and just focus on your smile and laugh. And his little stubble tickles a lot whenever he kisses you, sometimes he just nuzzle shis face against you because it you laugh at the sensation.

Helping you achieve your goals

1. Luffy- doesn’t really need an explanation, we all know how he is about helping people achieve their dreams. He’ll help you with anything you need, always there to protect you, cheer you up, etc. Not to mention this man is the loyalist. He’s willing to do anything no matter how extreme, I mean as long as it’s not cruel because that’s where he draws the line. 

2. Ace- similar to his brother, except he’s a little bit more... ferocious? Like remember when he went after Blackbeard? He would have that persistence. He’s also very ambitious. Like Luffy, he’s very loyal and will have your back no matter what you’re trying to do. But he also knows what you shouldn’t do, like if  he knows something is going to kill you/hurt you badly, he’ll tell you. But he’ll be there to pick you up when you fall, to encourage you if you lose confidence or lose your drive.

3. Bepo- we all see how much he helps Law, how comforting, caring, loyal, and encouraging he is. He’s more ofthe type to follow your orders to help you accomplish whatever, but he’s also like a reassuring presence- you always know you have someone. He’s always got your back and he’s great at pep talks and comforting cuddles. 

4. Gol D. Roger- so I’m kind of going of of my thoughts here, but he’s like the type to ecncourage you and stand behind you no matter what. He’s ready to lend a hand or cheer you up, protect you and offer you apiece of mind. He’ll distract you from the hardships and keeps everything fun, he takes the pressure off of you. Having him by your side feels like someone has your back. at all times, which he does. He won’t judge you for your goals either. Whatever you want to achieve he’ll just be there for whatever and whenever you need.

5. Kaido- HEAR ME OUT- for Kaido’s S/O he would literally destory an island. He’s more of the “I’ll kill anyone and destory anything” type. He’ll kill anyone who’s standing in your way, threaten anyone, really he would do anything. He’s Kaido, he can do anything. He’s not the best with words, he’s probably the worst, so he shows how he cares through actions- usually violent actions. His “pep-talks” or his version of pep talks, are pretty aggressive and blunt and to the point, but it still works if you can handle it. I can not stress this, ask him to kill someone or destroy something and consider it done.

Kissing

1. Mihawk- perfect. I mean just by looking at the man you know he’s a good kisser. He can do slow, fast, passionate, rough, anything. Literally every kiss takes your breath away. He usually cups your cheek, places his hand on the nape of your neck, or holds the back of your head- but he always hold your hand.

2. Cavendish- again just looking at the man you know he’s a good kisser. Very similar to Mihawk, he takes your breath away and he can do a variety of different kisses. But he loves french kissing or soft and tender, always holds you during the moment and after.

3. Sanji- everyone should have expected him to be here somewhere. Just amazing at any types of kisses, he’s a lot like Cavendish except Sanji tends to let his hand explore or rest on the more... naughty? parts. You have to get passed the nosebleeds but once you do it’s amazing- he puts all of his love into his kisses.

4. Shanks- mostly experience. He knows how to make you weak in your knees and take your breath away, he can make the moment go from romantic to sexy in the blink of an eye. His kisses tend to be sloppy but they always make you feel protected and loved. He likes kissing your neck and it’s also his favorite place to be kissed.

5. Doflamingo- 9/10 of the time rough and fast and heated. It’s like he has control over you, and really you don’t mind. Kissing him feels like your protected and safe and you don’t have to worry about anything. Kisses are one of the ways Doffy shows he cares because he’s so bad at words.

[write-like-you-mean-it]

3 Sum (Levi x Reader x Eren)

Happy (late) Valentine’s Day! This is my first time writing for AOT. Here is some LevixReaderxEren smut. I have never wrote anything like this. Seriously, this is some of the smuttiest thing I have ever written. I can’t believe this is a thing. Anyways, enjoy. Please like and reblog if you did enjoy it. If this gets enough love, I’ll write part 2.

Submitted by: Anonymous

Parining: Levi/Reader/Eren

Warning: Blow Job, degradation, angst, voyeurism, three-way, vaginal penetration, just holy hell smut, use of sir 

Levi pressed your face deeper into the mattress inside his personal barrick. The captain’s fingers dipped up and down your already wet slit as he collected any slick you produced. You don’t remember when you became the Captain’s personal sex toy but that’s what happened every night this week. 

“C-captain,” you groan as you feel yourself tighten around nothing. Your body leaning back in hopes of Levi giving any pleasure beyond his own. Levi relished in the idea of you begging for his cock. It was his favorite part of the day to watch you squirm and rock back on his calloused hands. 

Levi spent extra time focusing on the bundle of nerves that caused you to curse his name. Enough friction to gain a significant buzz but not enough to get a release. Edging had become a hobby of his. His fingers were skilled enough to find the delicate spot deep within you. With each curl or thrust of the two longest fingers sent stars spinning behind your eyes. 

“Goin’ be a good girl for your captain?” growled Levi. You found yourself gripping the bedsheets in hopes he’d give into your requests for some release. 

Your breathless pleas fell on deaf ears as his fingers tantalizingly played circles around your clit. His touches left shivers up and down your spine. “I’m your good girl.” Levi never let you call him by his name even in these intimate moments. It was still captain or sir. “‘Want your cock, sir.”

Levi tsked before removing the belt attached to his pants. The buckle clinking as it is undone. The sound of leather being pulled against fabric permeated the air. He always took his time with each article of clothing on his body. It was a way of taunting you without actually touching. 

You could feel your slick wetting your thighs without Levi’s touch. It was all excitement for what would be happening. Levi’s hand found your hip which meant he had removed every barrier between the two of you. This was confirmed by the tip of your captain’s cock teasing in between your cheeks. 

You were his toy and he was going to take every moment he could to fuck you. “Captain,” you whine before a harsh slap hits your right cheek. You sharply inhaled in hopes of the stinging pain was quickly subside. 

“You know I set the pace,” he mumbled. His cock leaked precum all over your entrance which, in turn, mixed with your own lubricant. “The more you plead, the longer I’ll be.” His voice was raspy from the premature excitement of it all. Another sting hits the other cheek followed by the same grunt from your own lips. 

Before Levi could fulfill his promise to fuck you raw, the knob on the door jiggled. Your eyes shot up from your face firmly planted into the mattress to see none other than Eren Yeager standing at the door frame. 

His normally expressionless face held a smirk before he leaned against the frame. “Well look what I found here.” Embarrassment heated up your face as you tried to bury it in the already low mattress. Your and Levi’s nudeness was apparent to everyone in the room. Getting caught in such a lewd act was not only embarrassing but degrading. 

“Get out of here Yeager,” growled the Captain. His dick was still placed firmly on your ass cheeks as if it was a spitting contest between the two. There were few words spoken between the two but you could feel the tension growing in the air. You heard the door closing which made me finally sit up using your hands only to find yourself facing the same man as before. A tent was growing in his tight pants. He hadn’t moved from the same position as before except for the fact the door was firmly closed behind him. 

Eren’s eyes looked me up and down once again. It was as if he was taking in the beautiful scene before him. He clicked his tongue before a hand touched the outline of his dick. 

“You know, Captain,” grumbles Eren as he undoes the belt hooked onto his waist with one of his hands. “I don’t really give a shit what you want me to do. What are you going to do if I don’t listen?” His words dripped with insincerity and a hint of maliciousness. “Hit me again?”

“You better listen to me Yeager,” growls Levi. His cock still teases the slit of your cunt as if to put a show for both you and the uninvited guest. “Leave now before-”

“Before what?” asks the younger scout member. “Afraid I’ll fuck your girl better than you?” Eren takes this moment to drop the ODM gear to the floor. He pushed back the fly away hairs from in front of his face. Levi’s teasing increased as he only put the tip in you. Your pussy fluttered at any semblance of being filled. A soft whine escaped your mouth as a plea for more stimulus; however, your eyes were glued to the man in front of you.  

Eren chuckled before undoing each button as slowly as possible. Every snap left less and less to be imagined. Scars and muscles appeared underneath the thin cloth. He stopped halfway only to place his hand under your chin and lift so you’re face to face with the titan. “Seems like you’re a greedy little slut. Drooling over me when his cock will be inside soon enough.” His thumb placed on your cracked lips.

Levi took this opportunity to thrust completely inside. Eren’s thumb slid into your mouth from the pressure; causing you to bite the already tender skin. “Fuck,” grunted the two men for different reasons. 

“You did that on purpose, Captain,” mumbled the brunette before pulling away his hand. Levi  pulled a whine from you as he pulled his length out of you as slowly as possible to maximize both your pleasure. Eren, on the other hand, stood while sucking on his slightly bruised thumb. This didn’t deter the hovering man as he leaned down to press his spit slicked lips against your own. 

A trail of spit was left between the two of you as you parted ways. Levi’s grip on your waist dug into the supple skin. Fingernails leaving imprints before pulling you back to meet his own hips. Your boobs bouncing harshly against your own skin. “You really don’t want me touching your girl.” Eren’s words were taunts against his commanding officer. 

Levi’s thrusts met your hips sharply. Each pounding earned a resounding moan that escaped your lips. Drool dripped from your lips onto the comforter. Eren pulled off his shirt to show every muscle he’d sculpted over the years of training. The strip show was for your eyes only. 

Your vision became a blurry mess as Levi’s hips agonizingly met your own. His pace was a frighteningly angry one. “Don’t watch him,” he growled; however, his command didn’t seem to be enforced as Eren removed his pants. All that was left was the bulge imprint in his boxers. 

Your hand absentmindedly reached out to touch the thick length. The silent plea was accepted as Eren pulled the waistband down to reveal his length. A thick and veiny one that bounced up from its escape. “Looks like your bitch wants me too,” taunts the titan. “How about we breed this bitch together to see who's better?”

Levi didn’t respond. His anger was being taken out on you. Each thrust left an imprint on your insides. His fingers were leaving thick bruises and scars on your hips. 

Eren gripped your hair and tugged so you were face to face with his member. It is only inches away from your mouth. His dick was red and sweating its own precum. Your hand moves to touch his length. You run your thumb over his tip to collect the precum to slick your hand. This got a harsh response from the titan. 

“Watch her whore mouth,” grunted Levi. His pursuit of carving his cock inside you hadn't expired; however, he moved one of his hands to abuse your sensitive clit. “Once inside you’ll cum quickly.” His warning was more for Levi himself. He had to focus on something else because his own organsm was building. 

“Good to know,” said Eren. You pushed your hand up and down his length in hopes of eliciting a response. You were rewarded with a grunt and slight buck of his hips. A few more movements of your hand were rewarded with the same response. “Fuck your hands are good.”

You rewarded his praise with your tongue licking a strip on his tip and shoving him all the way in your mouth. Levi took that moment to punish you by pushing harshly on your hips so that you gagged on the already hard to fit cock. 

Eren gripped your hair tighter before pulling out his salival cover cok out of your mouth. You coughed and gasped for air; yet, none was given as Eren pushed himself back in the same time Levi fucked you from behind. 

Levi and Eren’s pursuit of punishment was a brutal excuse to fuck you harder. Levi used his fingers to massage your clit and fuck every inch inside of you. Eren used his hands to drag his own pleasure from you. 

Lewd, labored breathing filled the room along with your own gagging. It was as if they were impalining you on their cocks. Spit covered your mouth along with making a pile on the mattress. Your tongue outstretched to make room for Eren’s dick to slide in easier. 

Levi’s fingers were enough to make you cum. You cried against Eren’s length while seeing stars. Your pussy squeezed against Levi’s length. It created a delicious fluttering which dragged out Levi’s own orgasm. He spilled his warm cum deep within you. Each push sent more of his seed deep within you. Levi continued to push into you in hopes to continue each of your oragsms much longer. His finger still hadn’t left yoru clit. 

Eren’s dick had yet to be spent but he was getting close. His rhythm became haphazard and quick. Tears pricked your eyes and sent mascara running down your face. Eren came not long after down your throat.

“Don’t swallow,” growled Eren. His words were lost in his own orgasm. A few “fucks” left his lips as he pushed his cock deeper. Spirts of warm, salty cum fell onto your tongue. Eren fucked his own hand until each and every drop was out of his system. 

Levi pulled out of your pussy leaving a trail of cum dripping from your pussy which made you shiver from the lack of warmth. His hands left your waist which made your fall against the bed. Eren chuckled before gripping your jaw. “Show me.” You open your tongue to show his cum that was still placed in your mouth. A little dribbled out of the side. He used his bruised thumb to wipe away the excess. 

“You let some escape,” growled Eren. “Your bitch doesn’t seem to listen well.”

“She listens to me,” says Levi. Sweat dripping from his forehead before pulling you back so that your back meets his chest. “Swallow for me, darling.” You obey his orders. Levi takes this opportunity to kiss your lips. While it may seem like a romantic gesture, it was to claim his property. “See.”

Eren smirked while moving the stray, wet hairs away from his forehead. “I’d ask who’s dick you liked better but I’d much rather see what it's like to be buried deep within your tight pussy. I doubt Captain filled you up well enough.”

“Or I can kick your ass and keep her for myself.”

“Afraid, Capitan?” asked the titan. 

Levi smirked while trailing a single finger down your frame. “Not in the slightest, Yeager. Ready for round two darling?”

Valentine’s Day Special Masterlist 

Full Masterlist

[limitlessgojo]

Blood Bound: Red Strings of Fate (Ch 7)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood

Previous Chapter: Speed of Sound

Next Chapter: Red Strings of Fate

Tags: Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj @rizzo-nero @whoreuc @fkngkumiko @isl3t @gojoussunglasses @onepotatostand-blog @s-t-f-u-b-i-t-c-h @sunaswife

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, please mention it in the comments below ty <3

Double Update today, because these two chapters go hand in hand. It didn't feel right to upload one without the other.

Chapter 7: Bird of Flame

You faced Todo off in a clearing. Everyone else was at the far side watching. “Just run away if it gets too much.” You worriedly said to Miwa and Mai pushing them back.

“It’s okay, I’ll hold off any attacks.” Noritoshi assured you. You beamed up at him, “Thanks senpai.”

“Someone’s being awfully friendly today.” Momo half coughed and half murmured out. Noritoshi just gave her the side eye.

As per your style of fighting, you stayed still if you did not know of your opponent’s cursed technique.

“I won’t immobilise you this time since we are sparring.” You called out to Todo. “Fine with me!”

You could hold out your protective space warping around you for several hours. You just had to make sure it was activated in the space around you.

Todo didn’t hesitate to start off with punches and kicks. Nothing moved you of course. 5 minutes passed with him getting nowhere. Is that all he has?

You narrowed your eyes, but lifted a hand to push him back into a tree. You manipulated its branches such that they were all pointing to him. He was about to hit them until he clapped his hands and suddenly, you were there.

Your eyes widened, barely having time to brace yourself as you guarded for impact. You hit the branches hard. “Shit.” Looks like you might have to use your extended techniques against him.

He was in front of you in a split second and you quickly moved to dodge. You tried to maneuver your way around him, but it was hard to pinpoint the exact origin of the hits as he kept swapping your positions before landing a hit.

Sometimes, when you brace for a hit, he doesn’t swap your positions. How annoying!!! Of course your spacial barrier is still active and taking the hits for you, but it does have its limits.

Moving at mach speed in a short distant range won’t help you too much as it’s better for transport rather than combat.

You breathed out low and slow, before channeling your concentration into your 6th sense. Spatial awareness. Faster and faster, you started bracing for his hits and pushing him back.

And when he was unprepared you lashed out with your hidden twin blade only for him to dodge it. You can’t deny that the 2nd year's have more experience than you in battle. And Todo's specialty is obviously close combat.

You had both blades out now quickly slashing at him dangerously. He avoids it and the slashes cut all the way to the trees behind him.

You gave in, sheathing your blades and turning around to recuperate but he was faster as he finally caught you by the arm. “I got you!”

You grinned. Who got who?

With one hand, you straightened 4 fingers out towards Todo and folded your thumb into your palm. “Extension cursed technique, focus range: Niflheim”. Your applied cursed technique slows down the movement of molecules in an enclosed area, forcing items to freeze.

A layer of ice covered Todo’s entire body. The branches that binded around him were also covered with ice, stretching behind him in an ice pillar.

You quickly released your hand from his hold and slowly breathed to the sky, releasing an icy smokey breath. You turned around with a slow smile. “Checkmate”

He struggled against the ice but, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. That is way under 0 degrees celsius. You might lose a limb or 2 Todo senpai.”

He sighed, “I g-g-guh-give!” He could barely utter the words as his teeth chattered. You gently focused on raising the temperature, melting the ice off of Todo first. You couldn’t do it too fast or else he would combust.

As soon as he was free you reached out and applied your reversed cursed technique on him, healing the cold in his body. “Thank you so much for the match! It’s been a while since I felt that much fun in battle!” You excitedly said.

“Good game. As expected of my little sister, you’re very strong.” Todo patted your head. You stared, “Excuse me, whose little sister??”

“You should have buried him y/n!” Momo exclaimed. “Hear hear.” Mai chanted. Mechamaru just said, “I almost got buried by her once. She should have done the same with him.” You just laughed, “It’s okay, I’m satisfied with this.”

You turned to Noritoshi and he walked up to you and Todo went back. At this distance, the others couldn’t hear your conversation. “That was incredible.” He had a very proud smile on his face. “I hope you take our fight seriously as well. That’s all I ask of you.” He whispered.

“Of course I will senpai. But like with Todo senpai, I won’t use immobilisation techniques so we can spar properly okay?”

“Okay” he patted your shoulder and gave it a small squeeze before moving backwards. ‘Kamo clan, blood manipulation. They can manipulate their blood freely.’ you thought to yourself.

Your eyes zeroed in on his bow and arrows. The smell of blood was always on him, but you bet he had blood on those arrows. “Begin!”

He launched arrows at you only for you to stop them. Projectiles were the worst thing he could do. You frowned as you turned the arrows on him and sent them back. He dodged and shot more.

What on earth? This was so ineffective against yo-

He suddenly came from the side and punched you. Diversionary tactics dummy, you didn’t think about it.

You got pushed back from the force but stood your ground. He was insanely fast for a human. He is currently faster than Todo and any of the male cousins whom you’ve fought with.

It was a jarring experience. “Flowing Red Scale” He moved backwards, one eye wide open with a red blood x mark on it.

Your brain went into overdrive in a hurry to connect the dots while you defended against him. Blood. Red blood cells. Oxygen. He’s increasing his physical abilities.

You quickly lashed out with a double kick only for him to bring out a blood bag. “Blood manipulation: Crimson binding”. Blood strands wrapped around you and caged you in.

But you froze them and easily broke it in the process. You hurried to try and bring him down with mixed martial arts, not wanting to hurt him too much.

Sparring with him actually felt like a dance. You dodged and had an instinct as to where the next move would come from, and he was the same. Barely any hits landed on each other for a while.

Ah right, you promised to go hard on him. You put two hands out in a V shape, with palms facing him. Noritoshi’s eyes widened at the familiar hand signs. It’s the very first one you showed him.

“Tatsumaki” A huge horizontal cyclone hit him and forced him back. “Enhanced Gravity: Output level 4%”

“Aarghhh” Noritoshi groaned as he was forced to the ground. You didn’t notice his hands moving.

“Convergence! Piercing blood” a sudden fast stream of blood shot out and grazed your cheek. It would have been worse had you not moved your head aside. Noritoshi’s eyes widened as blood poured from the wound.

You quickly made tree branches hold his hands apart and forced him back onto the ground. You pointed both your twin blades at his head. “I give!”

You released your technique and knelt down. “Are you oka-”

“Are you okay? I hit your face!” He exclaimed in worry, hand hovering just over your cheek. You stared at him in amusement. “It’s a serious matter!!” he insisted.

You covered your face with one hand, then wiped off the blood to reveal a flawless cheek. He gaped, “Reverse cursed technique. I see. Good fight” He wheezed out.

"You actually hit through my defenses in battle. That was amazing Noritoshi senpai." You whispered in amazement. There was something different about the blood he manipulated.

His bond to it was far stronger than your hold over his blood. So if you tried manipulating his blood, it's a low chance that you could get it to attack him.

You can manipulate anything and everything, even at molecular levels to some extent. But you can't produce what's not there. There seems to be a limit to your manipulation over certain items.

"I still lost. Thank you for the match." He said.

You held his hand for the first time as you pulled him up, when suddenly a searing pain hit the inside of your wrist.

"Ouch!" You exclaimed while Noritoshi winced as well. You both pulled back your sleeves to see a large bird surrounded by flames just below the inner wrist on your right hand. Noritoshi had the exact same symbol, but it was in the inner wrist on his left hand.

You quickly pulled over both your sleeves to cover the markings, “Just say we both got wounds, let’s keep this a secret.” You pulled back and acted on purpose, “Good fight. You almost got me there.”

He naturally followed your lead, but there was a brightness to his eyes that told of something else. “.... Yeah you got me. I’ll do my best to catch up to you next time we spar.”

“What happened?” Utahime ran towards the both of you upon seeing you both flinch forward. “No, Utahime sensei we just got some scrapes that stung badly, nothing too bad.”

“I see. I have a first aid kit on hand, feel free to use it if you need to.” She said, and pushed you two back to where everyone else was.

You both stayed at the back watching the other students ask to spar with each other. Noritoshi quietly tugged at your sleeve, hidden from view with his own large and wide sleeves.

You tugged back twice on his sleeve and grabbed his hand to squeeze it. His hands were rough and calloused from fighting, but also had a tenderness and warmth from the way they tried to hold onto yours.

Both your marks flashed with heat when your hands touched. Noritoshi turned to you with all the world's curiosity in his face.

But you pulled back and put some distance between the two of you so it wouldn't look too obvious. "That binding technique that you did earlier was cool. Is it possible for you to manipulate the blood even after I freeze it solid?" You asked to try and divert the attention.

"Actually I haven't tried yet. But I should be able to as the main composition is still my blood." He admitted.

The remaining time left on the field was spent mostly on the others working on their cursed techniques against each other, and with you engaging in tactical discussion with the other students.

You all bid each other goodbye and went your separate ways. Except… Noritoshi mouthed "library" after he waved you off.

You lifted your eyebrows silently in agreement and walked back with the rest of the 1st year's.

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

[delaber]

Just Friends (Part 9)

Story Summary: After moving to America for a 3-month long internship, you meet two interesting characters on a boring night out.

Word Count: 4.6K

Pairing: Rafael Casal x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol, minor drug use, smut, slight dom!Rafa, swearing, and loads of British references (sorry not sorry lol)

Chapter Note: smut smut smut smut smut smut smmmmmuuuuttt

Tag List: lonelydance mysearchforgratification ramp-it-up blndspotting summerofsnowflakes exrthangel honeysucklechocolatedrippin captaintightpants58

Other Parts: See Masterlist

"What did I tell you?" He laughed as he closed the door behind him, "you don't have to take off your shoes when you're here."

"It's the polite thing to do," you smiled goofily up at him, "what if I stepped in something icky earlier."

"I suppose I'd have to clean the floor tomorrow then," he shrugged, his eyes still bloodshot from the joint, "it's a risk I'd be willing to take."

Easy to giggles, you shot him a laugh.

"You want a drink?" he asked you and held up his index finger, "a quick word of warning; my margarita game is off but I do make a mean Long Island."

You arched an eyebrow at him, "Long Island? Are you trying to get me drunk?"

He sent you a smirk, "Your senses are already dulled from the reefer. How much more could a strong drink possibly do?"

"Okay," you laughed, "Long Island it is then - I do hope it's better than the 'Rafa Special' that you made me on New Years."

"Ouch, you big bully," he pretended to be hurt, "I lay down my guard and show you my true self and this is what it gets me? Some ignorant European tearing apart my cocktail game? I'm telling you; if I had just an ounce of self-respect, you'd be in an Uber on your way home right now!"

"I guess I'm lucky that you're completely spineless," you shrugged.

"Did you just say that?" He put down the lime he'd been holding and sent you a bemused smile.

"Let me just check; uh yes I did."

"Say it again and I'll definitely throw you out," he took a step closer to you trying to look dangerous but failing miserably.

"You're spineless," you whispered.

"One more time for Big Rafa, come on," he motioned a come on sign with his hand, stepping even closer to you.

"Spineless," you squealed and ran away from him as he started running towards you.

"I'll get you for this," he chased you into the living room where he grabbed you around the waist and threw you down on the sofa. He sat down on top of you and grabbed your wrists, "say it again," he urged you, as he easily forced your hands above your head, pinning your wrists together with just one hand. It reminded you of the night after New Years and you became strangely aroused by it.

"Okay, I'll stop," you squealed as he tickled your sides, "just let me go."

He stopped tickling you and went completely still, "never," he leaned in and whispered, lips hovering dangerously close to yours, his right hand warm against your ribs. He could feel your fast heartbeat through your black t-shirt as you made a quick decision and lifted your head up to kiss him softly on the lips.

He gladly reciprocated your tender kiss, looking pained as you withdrew your face after just a couple of seconds.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, "I don't know what just came over me."

Rafa let go of you and got up from the sofa, "Yeah," he cleared his throat, "I'm sorry too," he took your hand and helped you up on your feet, "I'll go mix us those drinks," he said quietly.

While he went to the kitchen, you studied the guys' living room. You had only been in here once before and back then, you had been far too concerned with locating your clothes to really have a look around at the colourful posters and their personal belongings scattered around the room. Your eyes were drawn to a small shelf at the back of the room where miniature figures of Calvin and Hobbes stood. You took Calvin in your hand and examined him more closely before putting the figure back on the shelf, moving along to the next item; a gilded gramophone reading 'National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences, Daveed Diggs, Principal Soloist, Best Musical Theater Album - 2015, Hamilton (Original Broadway Cast)' along with what appeared to be a Tony award inscribed 'Best Performance by a Featured Actor in a Musical: Daveed Diggs as Marquis de Lafayette/Thomas Jefferson, 2015 - Hamilton.'

You did a double take as you read the text on the two awards again.

Rafa came in with two drinks in hand, "I see you've found Diggs' awards," he smiled, handing you a drink.

"Are these real?"

"Very real," Rafa smirked.

"Why didn't you tell me? I had no idea!"

"I wanted to see how long it took you to figure out where you know us from," he shrugged.

"Were you in this... Hamilton as well?"

"Oh, god no," he laughed, "and by your tone of voice I'm guessing you have no idea what it even is."

"Not a clue," you shook your head and took a big gulp of the drink, "So let me get this straight: Daveed is a hardcore rapper and a Broadway musical star? I never would've guessed that!" you laughed.

"Yeah, remember the first night when you came up to us and you couldn't remember where you'd seen us before?"

"Of course."

"We thought it was a weird trick just to get us to talk to you. Ever since performing in Hamilton, Daveed has been dubbed as America's fast-rapping sweetheart," he rolled his eyes.

"Are you jealous?" you chuckled.

"Not the least. But we can never go out anymore without people feeling the need to constantly come up to him and introduce themselves. It was fun at first but now it's kind of lost its glory."

"So you thought I was a groupie or something?" You laughed, "yeah, your reactions definitely make more sense now."

"Sorry for being a dick," Rafa looked pained, "Sometimes it's necessary when you just want a quiet night out with your best friend."

"So you were a dick on purpose yet you still came over to me and apologised?"

"I did," he laughed, "I thought you were too sassy to just let go. Especially after I realised that you'd been completely innocent and that you actually thought you just knew us from work or something. It was kind of cute so I felt bad for acting like a douche."

"I still feel like I know you from somewhere else apart from that night though," you mumbled.

"Yeah, I know. Come here," Rafa said and took your hand, leading you to a room in another part of the house where you hadn't been before. The room was lined with different recording equipment and movie posters.

"What is this?"

"Our workspace," Rafa said matter-of-factly, "We record music in here or write lyrics, scripts for sketches or plays. You know. Anything creative."

"I've never met anyone with a workspace like this," you took in the room with awe.

"...and this," Rafa continued, "I'm guessing is where you know us from," he pointed to a poster titled Blindspotting with a laughing Daveed and a tough-looking Rafa facing you.

"Yeah! Yeah that's it! I remember seeing this at the movies back home," you said excitedly as you took in the poster. You remembered thinking that the two leads were cute even back then, "so you're a musician slash actor?" you looked back at Rafa who was smiling at you.

"I prefer creative genius, but whatever..." he hugged you from behind, "your term is just as good I guess."

"Why didn't you tell me that I'd probably seen you in a movie."

"You were so unfazed by me and Diggs. And I knew it wouldn't impress you so I kept my mouth shut and told Daveed not to say anything," he snickered from over your shoulder, "I wanted you to spend time with me because you like me. Not because I'm semi-famous."

"I can't believe you thought I was a groupie," you chuckled and leaned into his arms.

"You're so much more," he groaned. His lips brushed against your neck and he kissed you softly below the ear.

His movements brought you back to reality, "Rafa," you sighed, "I know you're drunk and high but we can't be doing this."

"Mmh..." he hummed against you as he pushed your hair aside, his lips still tracing along your neck.

Slowly, you turned around, his arms still around you. "I'm serious," you said.

"I know," he groaned and let his arms fall flat to his sides with a sigh.

"Maybe I should go," you said, "this was clearly a bad idea. And I have to work tomorrow."

"On a Saturday?" he arched an eyebrow at you, "or are you just saying that so you have an excuse to leave early?"

"As I told you; I'm not even halfway done with the project I came here to do, so I actually do have to work tomorrow," you booped his nose, "I'm probably going to be quite busy the next week to be honest."

"So I really won't get to see you?" Rafa furrowed his eyebrows.

"Minimally," you frowned back.

"Okay, I have an idea; since my place is closer to your lab, I'll cut you a deal; how about you stay over, I cook you a nutritious breakfast tomorrow morning and then I take you to work?"

"I don't know," you said even though you really wanted to spend the night.

"No funny business, okay? This time I'm serious," he grinned.

"You said that last time as well," you laughed, "and the time before that."

"Look, I'll even take the couch and let you have my bedroom. I just want to spend the last few hours with you if I won't get to see you for the next couple of days," he shrugged.

"Okay," you gave in, "on one condition!"

"Anything," he said honestly.

"You go for a dip in the pool," you laughed devilishly up at him.

"What, now?"

"Yep!"

"You're not serious?"

"As serious as a heart attack," you said as seriously as you possibly could in your high.

"Okay. If that's what you want," he sighed dramatically before he turned around and discarded his t-shirt in one swift motion.

"Oh, you're really doing this," you laughed as you followed him out to the pool via the sliding doors in the living room next door.

"There's a lot at stake," he said as he pulled off his sneakers and socks.

"So for this you take off your shoes?" you teased him.

"Shut up," he grinned up at you before his hands started unbuckling his belt, his pants falling onto the tiles with a loud clank.

"Okay, I was kidding," you said as he was standing on the edge of the pool wearing only his boxers, "you don't have to do this."

"Oh, I'm not taking any chances. I'm definitely doing this," he said before he took a deep breath and jumped into the freezing water. He emerged spluttering, "shit, it's so cold," he bellowed as he whipped his hair out of his face and took a few strokes, "are you just going to stand up there and admire me?"

"Oh, the deal was for you to jump in. Not me!"

"Boo, you chicken!" he grinned up at you.

"Well, you're not exactly making a single selling point."

"If you don't jump in, you're not allowed to sleep over."

"You're not serious."

"As serious as a heart attack," he grinned up at you, as he mimicked your words from earlier.

"Oh my god. I cannot believe you're making me do this!" You squealed involuntary but ended up taking off your t-shirt and jeans, dipping your toe in the cold water as you stood in front of the pool in just your underwear.

"Just jump in," Rafa laughed, "What you're doing up there is pure torture."

"Okay. You're right," you took a few shallow breaths before counting to three, jumping in the pool close to Rafa. As you emerged, you pushed your hair out of your face, "so cold!" you squealed, "why did we do this?"

"I did it for you," Rafa laughed, treading waters in front of you, "I actually don't find it as bad as I had anticipated."

"You stay then! I'm getting the hell out of here," your teeth clattered as you began climbing the ladder, a laughing Rafa following close behind you.

You were shivering as you reached the top of the ladder, desperately clutching your arms to keep what little warmth you had left.

"Hot shower?" Rafa laughed.

"Yes, please," you nodded and followed Rafa to the bathroom where he turned on the shower for you as you immediately started undressing, ready to step in as soon as the water turned warm.

"It'll only be a minu- Oi!" Rafa said and quickly looked away. He had turned around from the faucet only to be met by you standing in front of him wearing only your soaking panties.

"Oh relax," you rolled your eyes at him, "you've seen me naked before."

"That doesn't mean it isn't just as... exciting," he gulped, desperately looking at the ceiling, "Uh, there are towels over there and I'll - uh - I'll find you something comfortable to wear for afterwards, okay?" he edged out the door still not looking at you. From the other side of the door he bellowed, "Uhm, on second thought. You can just use my bathrobe - if that's alright with you."

"It's fine Rafa," bellowed back with a laugh as you stepped into the warm water.

You stayed in the shower for a couple of minutes until you felt the heat return to your fingers and toes. You quickly dried yourself off, and pulled on the only bathrobe you could find, assuming that it was Rafa's. "That was lovely," you said as you met him in his bedroom. He was wearing the same trackies you'd seen him in before. "No shower?" you lifted your eyebrows at him.

"We have a cold shower by the pool," he said slowly with a laugh, "and I desperately needed it."

"Oh how old are you?” You laughed at him, “you can't even see breasts without getting turned on?"

"Not when they're yours," his face reddened slightly suddenly matching his eyes, "and especially with your nipples all hard like that."

A cold shiver went down your spine. "Yeah, sorry," you ended up saying.

"Oh don't be," he grinned, "it was a marvelous sight that I'll definitely cherish when I'm alone in bed at night," he winked at you, "it just excited me... Excites me now just thinking about it to be honest," he looked away from you with a small grin, clearly uncomfortable in his own skin.

"Yeah me too," you admitted, "it feels stupid to not be allowed to touch when we're so close to each other in so little clothes."

"We could just say 'to hell with it'?" He smirked.

"No, Rafa," you said sternly as you sat down on the edge of his bed.

He sent you a challenging look, "...or we could - you know - just... talk about it if you want to?"

"Talk about what?" you arched an eyebrow at him. Your decision was non-negotiable.

"Just talk for a while about what we'd like to do if the situation was different," he shot you a wink, "That's innocent."

"No it's not?" you laughed, "Not at all."

"I know," he smiled at you, "I'm just trying to get creative. We have to work with what we got, you know."

"Friends don't talk about what sexual stuff they'd like to do to each other," you shot him a look.

"Hey - can we just cut the bullshit for a few seconds?" Rafa said quietly, his Adam's apple bouncing in his throat as he swallowed hard, "don't call us friends when we clearly aren't,"

"Maybe this wasn't a good idea," you looked at him carefully

"You keep saying that," he sighed, "yet you're still here."

You put your hand on his arm, "I'm having a hard time too, you know. You're not the only one who wants this."

He shot you a sideways glance, "why can't we just say to hell with it then?"

"Because I know myself and this is what I have to do if I want to return to England with a somewhat sane mind."

"Whatever you say," he groaned as he threw himself down on the bed, his legs dangling over the side.

You lay down next to him and you put your hand on his chest, playing with the straps of his hoodie. He pulled you close and caressed your back with his fingertips, "do you want me to go sleep on the couch?"

"You can sleep in here with me," you said softly, "I'm going to miss you the next couple of days."

He kissed the top of your head, "yeah, me too," he said, "the last time you stayed over, my pillow smelled like you for days. It was pure torture. But it came at a price; your hair was everywhere. It was like having a dog again," he laughed.

"A small souvenir," you laughed, "sorry."

"I forgive you. But only because you look so soft in my bathrobe," he brushed his fingers over your back, "do you want me to get you a t-shirt to sleep in?"

"Yes please," you said and let him go to his closet where he pulled out an old tee with the words Raiders written on the front.

"A pirate shirt?" you eyed the logo.

Rafa shot back his head and laughed whole-heartedly, "Damn girl, don't you dare disrespect my favourite football team like that."

"You mean American football team. Your favourite football team better be Chelsea!"

"I'll be partial to Chelsea in soccer if you're partial to the Raiders in football."

"I can pretend I like the pirates," you teased him.

"Oh shut up," he chuckled and walked towards the door, "I'll let you get changed," he said and closed the door behind him.

You disrobed and pulled on his Raiders shirt, glad that it covered you like a dress as you didn't have any dry underwear to wear. A short dress albeit, but still a dress.

"Are you decent?" Rafa asked from the other side of the door.

"Yep," you said and let him in.

"Ah!" he said when he saw you in the Raiders shirt, "my favourite girl sporting my favourite team."

"Don't get any ideas," you grinned as you crawled under the covers.

He stripped down to his boxers and joined you under the covers, pulling you close, "just a bit of friendly cuddling," he whispered against your neck, his hand trailing up and down your sides.

"Okay," you whispered back, enjoying his arms around you.

His fingers brushed from your waist and down your sides all the way below the hem of the t-shirt, fingers coming to a halt on your upper thigh. He lifted his head from his pillow and whispered, "are you not wearing any panties?"

"Uhm no," you said sheepishly, "they were all wet from the pool."

You felt the outline of a bulge emerging against your backside right before he pulled back from you with a groan.

You turned around and faced him, "I didn't mean to torture you on purpose," you snickered.

"I know," he said in a strained voice, "just give me a minute to calm down." He blew out some air and stared determined at the ceiling.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked him after a couple of seconds.

"I'm trying to remember all the players on the Raider's team," he said, "and I definitely try not to think about you on top of me."

A familiar warm feeling spread in your abdomen. Now you were thinking about riding him as well.

"Too much?" he looked over at you when you didn't answer him.

"Ehm," you cleared your throat, "no. No, it's a... nice image," you smiled at him, the heat between your legs growing more and more.

"It got to you too, huh?" he laughed at you.

"Uhm, yeah," you said, "it's probably because we're high."

"That Long Island didn't exactly help either."

"Definitely not. It's too bad we're not allowed to touch..."

"Yeah..." he agreed, "we could... you know... just go to sleep."

"Yeah..." you said. His suggestion from earlier about talking dirty to each other without touching flashed in your mind. It wasn’t as if it would break your code. “Or we could just lie here next to each other and talk for a while..."

"Yeah?" he looked over at you with an excited smile, "what do you want to talk about?"

"Definitely not riding you slowly," you grinned, "or your lips around my nipples."

He gulped, "Yeah, and not your mouth around my cock either. Let's not discuss that."

"Or how you feel when you're inside me," you breathed heavily.

"Oh fuck, no, no we definitely can't talk about that. Or how I'd start off by kissing you all over your body. All the way from the top of your head and down your neck, leaving small teasing kisses down your breasts and all the way down to your ankles. And then back up again to your little hotdog," he said darkly.

"Yeah!" you imagined his warm lips against your skin and felt the goosebumps emerge on your arms, "...and we can't discuss how I'd respond to your teasing lips by pulling your hair while I open my legs for you. Or what you'd do next.”

"Well... in that case, we probably shouldn't discuss how I'd bring out my tongue and taste you while my fingers were slowly working their way in and out of you," he panted. You let out a moan as you arched your back and Rafa continued, "yeah, and you'd moan just like that for me."

"But regardless of how good it felt, I'd still push you away from me and get on my knees in front of you."

"Fuck!" Rafa hissed beside you, fighting hard to keep his hands above the covers.

"I'd take you in my hand and lubricate your glistening head with pre-cum before I slowly move my hand up and down you a couple of times to warm you up."

"I'm already warm, love" Rafa chuckled.

"Good! I'd grab you by the root and I'd lick you all the way from the root to the tip, bringing extra attention to that particularly sensitive spot just below your head," you said slowly, "my soft tongue would be all wet and sloppy as I run it up and down your length while I maintain eye contact with you, showing you that you're in complete control of the situation. And I'd make sure to massage your balls as I continue to pleasure you with my mouth," you breathed heavily, "and you'd look down at me and caress my hair while my mouth was full of you, slowly bucking your hips bringing you further down my throat. And I'd groan around you as you hit the back of my throat, sending vibrations all the way up to your balls."

"Okay, fuck it, I can't take this," Rafa said resolutely and pulled the covers away to reveal the enormous erection tugged away in his boxers. He pulled out his cock and started stroking it slowly in front of you with a few shallow breaths. He shot you a look, "not... against... the rules," he panted as he continued to pump his hand up and down his length.

"Well, if you're doing it, I'm doing it!" you said as you spread your legs, your fingers immediately flying to your core as you looked at Rafa's movements. "What happens next?" you panted.

Rafa took a couple of shallow breaths before he continued, "I pull out of your mouth just before I come down your throat because you know I'm close and you beg me to fill you up instead. So I pick you up from the floor and throw you on the bed and you're looking at me with this hungry look. And I kiss your tits while I slide inside you. And you're so warm and so wet for me," he groaned.

You moved your fingers up and down your slit, fidgeting with your clit with your right hand, while your left hand pushed up the Raider's t-shirt and started massaging your nipple. A small moan escaped your lips as you imagined what Rafa was explaining to you, "and you fill me up completely," you panted, "and you turn me around before you slam into me from behind, smacking my ass and pulling my hair. And you're so good that I grow tight around you, begging for you to let me cum."

"Yes," he groaned.

"- and you pull my arms and fixate them around my back so you have the perfect angle to fuck me while I grow tighter and tighter around you as you slide in and out of me. And I feel this raw heat starting in my stomach and it's spreading fast to the rest of my body as you fuck me faster and harder than you ever have before. And you pull my hair and I moan helplessly for you."

Rafa started moving his hand faster and faster as he was looking at you narrating your own orgasm.

"- and when you finally let me topple over the edge, I scream out your name with my release like this; Rafa," you moaned, "oh Rafa".

"Fffffuck," you heard Rafa hiss beside you right before he came with a loud groan, cum staining his stomach and chest, "fuck!" he continued to pant beside you with his eyes screwed shut, cum still leaking from his tip. His hand was still laced around his throbbing cock, but no longer moving when he desperately opened his eyes and turned his head. "Fuck," he repeated when he looked towards you with your fingers still at work.

"Fuck you're hot!" you panted beside him, looking at him as you drew in sharp breaths, your fingertips slowly entering yourself.

Rafa's eyes flooded with lust once more, "Fuck this," he spat, "come here," he took your hand and pulled you on top of him, your back lying flat against his cum-stained chest. His right hand found your core immediately and he started working his long fingers in and out of you while his left hand was circling your clit.

"Not... part of... the plan," you panted on top of him while his fingers moved in and out of you, his lips kissing your throat and neck.

"Oh, do you want me to stop?" he said and removed both of his hands from your throbbing core.

"No!" you whimpered on top of him, moving around desperate for friction.

"Shut the fuck up then," he whispered darkly against your neck as his hands resumed their positions. He worked like this for a couple of minutes while you writhed and moaned on top of him, your walls tightening around his fingers as he kissed and licked your neck.

"Fucking cum for me," he whispered as he hit your g-spot repeatedly and sent you over the edge crying out his name with pleasure.

His hands moved slower and slower, until he pulled his fingers out of you, his palm travelling all the way up your body, coming to a halt as he cupped your breasts lovingly, "I could get used to this," he whispered, kissing your neck and sending shivers down your spine.

You stayed on top of him for a couple of seconds while he continued to caress your breasts and nipples, kissing your neck occasionally with small sounds of affection.

When you had come down completely from your high, you climbed down from him and positioned yourself under the covers. Rafa pulled on his boxers and snuggled up against you.

"That was not part of the plan," you yawned as he held you tight.

"It won't happen again. Now shut up and go to sleep," Rafa smiled against your neck

[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)

Next Chapter

[jdgo51]

Outserve Each Other Today's inspiration comes from: Praying the Scriptures for Your Marriage by Jodie Berndt Editor’s Note: We’re huge fans of Jodie Berndt’s books here at FaithGateway (and we know you are too), which is why we’re sooooo excited that it’s launch day for her newest book, Praying the Scriptures for Your Marriage! Enjoy this exclusive excerpt and don’t miss our deals on the paperback and the beautifully designed hardcover, which makes a great wedding or anniversary gift for any couple you know! "'Married life is waking up early to preheat your spouse’s car in the winter (and then taking ten dollars out of their wallet as a tip for your services). “Be ready to do whatever is good.” “Use whatever gift you have received to serve others.” “Serve one another humbly in love.”1 Our contemporary culture holds a dim view of service — we’d rather be served than serve — but at some gut-instinct level, we know that putting our spouse’s needs ahead of our own makes for a healthy and enjoyable marriage. Paul’s counsel to husbands and wives to “submit to one another” sounds like the right thing to do.2 But knowing the right thing to do and actually doing it are two different things. Which is why, just a few verses earlier, Paul gives us the critical how-to: “Be filled with the Spirit.” Being filled with the Spirit allows us to love others in ways that don’t always come naturally. It empowers us to let go of our self-centered desires and live lives marked by things like patience, goodness, gentleness, and self-control.3 And it marks us with the same self-sacrificing humility that Jesus displayed, whether He was washing His disciples’ dirty feet or, as Philippians 2:8 puts it, humbling Himself and becoming “obedient to death — even death on a cross!” This Philippians passage, with its call to “have the same mindset as Christ Jesus” (2:5) — loving as He did, pursuing unity as He did, putting others first as He did — offers a template for our relationships.4 Early in our marriage, Robbie and I heard Dr. Tony Evans talk about what this pattern looked like in his own marriage. Having purposed to value each other’s interests ahead of their own, Evans and his wife began going out of their way to help each other. At some point, Evans said, it became a contest — one he found himself losing. “I couldn’t believe it,” Evans said with a laugh. “She was outserving me. I had to figure out how to catch up!” Evans’s message took hold in our hearts, and Robbie and I began looking for opportunities to honor each other. Robbie likes things tidy, and while I knew I couldn’t match his mother’s “get the dust off the top of the refrigerator” talent, the kids and I began playing “beat the buzzer” every night before he came home. I’d set the kitchen timer and we’d scramble to pick up toys and clean the counters. On my good days, I’d even rummage in my purse to find the lip gloss as Robbie’s car pulled into the driveway. (And if I just lost half of the women readers, I’m sorry. But never once did I feel like I was caught in some 1950s time warp. Instead, I saw these little acts of service — and my lips, on some days — as, to use our friend Davis’s word, “beautiful.”) For his part, Robbie began doing things like vacuuming my (dog-hair-and-Cheerios-infested) car or bringing me coffee — sometimes from an actual coffee shop, which he knows is my love language and counts double on the service scale, since a little part of him dies inside every time he pays for something we can get for free at home. Putting our spouse’s needs ahead of our own makes for a healthy and enjoyable marriage. Somewhere along the way — we can’t pinpoint when — something shifted inside us. We began to truly enjoy these tangible ways to show love and respect. It became, like our friend Lisa says, a “pleasure and a delight.” And although I don’t feel deserving of Robbie’s tenderness, the word he uses for the way he regards me is cherish, and when I noticed that a book by that title had been published, I grabbed it. “Millions of couples,” writes author Gary Thomas, “have pledged ‘to love and to cherish, till death do us part.’” Most of us understand the love part and the implied vow to serve and commit to one another, but it is the act of cherishing, Thomas says, that “turns marriage from an obligation into a delight. It lifts marriage above a commitment to a precious priority.”5 Serving your spouse — cherishing them as precious — looks different in every marriage. Bob took his children to garage sales on Saturday mornings, not because they needed more stuff, but because it gave his wife, Anne, a chance to have the house to herself at the start of the weekend. Whit turns the bed down every night and puts his wife, Susan’s, iPad on her pillow, since he knows she loves to read. I stopped wearing ruffles (after having an umpteen hundred of them on my puffball of a wedding dress) when I learned (later) that they don’t appeal to Robbie. None of these things are “grand” gestures. They may go unmarked by everyone but our spouse. And yet in a social media age when everyone wants to be seen and noticed, it is exactly these little gifts of time, these self-sacrificing kindnesses, that kindle lasting love in a marriage. “Real romance,” writes Ann Voskamp, “isn’t measured by how viral any wedding proposal goes — and viral is closely associated with sickness — but it’s the moments of self-forgetfulness: Setting the table at the end of a long day and rustling up some hearty dish for those who have your heart, and then — without any cameras rolling or soundtracks playing — clearing the plates to make your own love perfectly clear — this is the way of robust romance.”6 Robust romance. Isn’t that what we all want? The way to get there isn’t through grasping; it is through yielding. Yielding our plans, our desires, our very self — and submitting out of reverence for the One who is Love Himself to the one whom we cherish. Remember Serve one another humbly in love. — Galatians 5:13 Reflect We love because God first loved us. The more we soak up this truth, the more our love will increase and overflow for our spouse. Think about your own awareness of God’s love for you. Do you sense His delight? Do you feel forgiven? Can you trace a link between your relationship with the Lord and your desire to serve and honor your spouse?"' Titus 3:1; 1 Peter 4:10; Galatians 5:13. Ephesians 5:18. These traits and the other fruit of the Spirit are listed in Galatians 5:22–23 (ESV). Philippians 2:5. Gary Thomas, Cherish: The One Word That Changes Everything for Your Marriage (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2017), 17. Ann Voskamp, Waymaker: Finding the Way to the Life You’ve Always Dreamed Of (Nashville: W Publishing, 2022), 71. Excerpted with permission from Praying the Scriptures for Your Marriage by Jodie & Robbie Berndt, copyright Jodie Berndt.

[pynkhues]

Why does Dean plead guilty? Is it bc of Phoebe? Is it because he wants to protect Beth? Is it because he wants to take the credit? Does it have to do with his male-ness? Have you already explored this topic? #questions

That’s such a good question, anon! It makes for a really interesting (and I actually think in-character) beat for Dean, and I think you’re right in the sense that it’s partially about protecting Beth and partially having to do with his male-ness, but I think there’s also something more fundamental at play.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how this show explores image, perception and projection, and how frequently those things are at the root of Beth and Dean’s arcs, both together and apart. These themes do of course feed into other character storylines (Annie at Ben’s school charity auction in 4.02 being one of the clearest examples of this – that was entirely about projecting an image to Ben’s peers and trying to change the way she would be perceived), but I don’t think it roots as deeply as it does in Beth and Dean, in no small part because Beth and Dean’s biggest audience is themselves.

So! Let’s break that down and talk about how that feeds into Dean pleading guilty.

Rose Coloured Boy (Rose Coloured Girl): nostalgia as the face of love

One of the things that’s always fascinating to me about Beth and Dean’s relationship is how often the show roots it in the past. One of the very first moments of Dean acting regretful over his cheating way back in 1.02 is through talking about the ‘fun stuff [he and Beth] did in the back seat in highschool’. That sense of the history of their romance is further emphasised in imagery of their past – Beth and Dean’s wedding photo is revisited frequently in season 1 while their anniversary is a key moment of the finale, Dean reminisces over screenshots of the kids as babies in season 2, and they even talk sweetly about anniversary dates, and their first apartment together after signing their divorce papers in 2.13.

This paints a picture of a tender history. One of young love and years of happiness and kindness, only it’s a history that the show has regularly, deliberately undermined.

All those beautiful pictures Dean’s looking at of his young family together and happy? Well, 2.05 confirmed that Beth was pregnant while he was having one of his affairs, so which of those photos are truly happy, and which were taken while Dean was betraying her? Similarly, they talk and joke about Valentine’s Day three years ago at the end of 3.08, but if he wasn’t having an affair with Amber then, he was likely having one with another woman.

The purpose of undermining history like this isn’t about the show forgetting or retconning these plot points – especially when the show ties these moments to other emotions, like Dean’s jealousy over Rio in 3.08 (and I’ll come back to that later), or Dean’s feelings of failure – but rather to establish the way that Beth and Dean both romanticise their past and paint it with a rose-coloured brush.

They tell themselves that they might not be happy today, but they were happy yesterday. And then they say that the next day and the next day and the next day, until every unhappy day, becomes a happy yesterday.

That romanticisation of their history is intrinsically tied to an image that they want to project to themselves. They have put so much time and energy into this thing between them, they have so many children, have so much of their lives entwined, that they need to believe that it’s all been worth it, because if it’s not, the image cracks and I don’t think either of them have the tools to handle that.

Which we kind of saw in 4.03.

It’s not an accident that the Beth and Dean flashbacks were in that episode – an episode that in a lot of ways fractured the image of Beth and Dean’s relationship, particularly for Dean. He’s been under the impression that they’re better, that they’re working again, that neither of them are cheating and Rio’s far away and Beth believes in him like she did before everything went wrong, and to discover that that image was false – was a projection of what Beth wanted him to believe, and perhaps simply what he himself wanted to believe too – is challenging to say the very least.

He was put in a position where he was faced not only with the extreme consequences of his wife’s actions, but a domino effect of lie after lie after lie, and the show choosing to take us back to the start of their relationship at that very moment, I think, shows us that the root of Beth and Dean’s relationship came back to Beth needing to be looked after, and Dean deciding, without knowing Beth very well, that he wanted to be the one to do it.

Macho Macho Man: Dean & Masculinity

Which brings us to Dean and masculinity. I’ve talked about the show’s exploration of masculinity quite a bit now (hell, it even has its own tag now, haha), and wrote a whole series of posts after 2.04 about male ego which I should probably update sometime to include s3 and s4,  but it really is one of the core themes of the show. It bubbles to the surface almost constantly and frequently becomes a driving factor of character motivations, particularly characters like Turner, who had his male ego challenged by Beth which resulted in a vendetta, to Boomer’s toxic masculinity driving him through much of the show.

For Dean though, his masculinity is frequently projected only to be destroyed, undermined or used against him in a way that ultimately completely emasculates him. The scene of Dean trying to reassert gender roles on himself and Beth only to have Rio bone his wife, destroy his prized car and insert himself into his business is perhaps the clearest example of that, but it manifests in plenty of other ways too. From hiring hitmen only to be robbed and have his wife’s panties stuck in his mouth, to buying the gun only to have it stolen, to think he’s establishing a new business for himself only to discover his wife’s pulling the strings with her ex-lover. Hell, even the fact of losing the business in the first place is inherently emasculating.

What I’m getting at is that every time Dean asserts himself in ways that are typically considered ‘Masculine’ – providing for his family, dominating his wife / treating her paternalistically, behaving with violent intents, establishing a business – it’s only to have that immediately undermined in the narrative. Dean likes this image for himself, and wants to project it, but the show keeps telling us that the image is a false one.

And then the show outright used that falsehood, and Dean’s insecurity over it, in 4.02 with Dave convincing Dean to give him the books, despite Beth telling him they weren’t ready.

Dean played right into his hand because Dave saw Dean’s masculinity for what it was – a projection covering an insecurity, which in turn, made Dean act thoughtlessly.

(Another pattern of behaviour for Dean! Like hiring the hitmen or cutting the money plate).

Dean’s commitment to the image of masculinity is in a lot of ways too tied to this idea of the rose-coloured image of his and Beth’s romantic history. Beth, from an image standpoint, is a case study in traditional femininity, and for much of their 20-year relationship, they’ve had their roles and they’ve stuck to them. The challenge of that throughout the course of the series is ultimately a challenge to the image that their relationship is based on, which in turn means that Dean’s feelings of failing masculinity end up being tied to his feelings and insecurities around Beth, frequently manifesting into jealousy over Rio.

To have that used against him by Dave (and funnily enough, Rio using those same feelings of Dean’s against Beth in 4.02) is a really interesting character note and I think very much fuels his motivation in the scene with Phoebe.

That Loving Feeling: a brief aside

I feel like I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention here that I actually do think Beth and Dean love each other. I think that it’s a broken love, like Christina said in her BUILD interview while promoting season 3, and I also think it’s a child’s love, which is something that we saw a bit through these flashbacks. Their relationship is so steeped in that history and that origin, that their love has failed to grow with them. It’s a sort of arrested development type of love, which I think makes them cling to the image all the harder, and it’s that old love and that image that’s stopped Dean from ever even contemplating turning Beth in.

Dean Pleads Guilty

Projection and perception are key in this show overall, but especially this season. We’ve seen that with the way Fitzpatrick has projected onto Beth, which I’ll talk about another time, but we also importantly saw Phoebe project onto Beth in this episode. She equates Beth to a girl she was friends with in highschool who used her, and tells Dean as such.

Phoebe’s projection of Beth – her image of her – isn’t one that Dean identifies with, and he tells her as much in return. While Dean is quiet in the scene overall outside of that interaction, the flashbacks deliberately seek to remind us of the nostalgia that has driven Beth and Dean’s relationship for the last twenty years and four seasons of the show. There’s a part of Dean that still sees Beth as the girl he chose to look after when they were just teenagers, and I think having his masculinity threatened the episode before by Dave intermingled with Dean’s nostalgia and his desire to ‘man up’ and take care of her in the way he tried to when her mum was in the hospital. All their murky, messy history and anger and hurt is painted over again, and Dean, at least in the moment, re-commits himself to the image of what he and Beth are.

He’s the man, she’s the woman, and it’s just another unhappy today for all those happy yesterdays.

[takanova12]

The fuss around chapter 130.

I saw that people are going with three possibilites for historia.

She got pregnant with eren.

She got pregnant with the farmer.

The pregnancy is fake.

Before I dive in, I would like to say that I am writing this post to address concerns that I have surrounding the pregnancy and not about historia as a character. I don't know her intentions or thoughts on the matter. As an advocate of eremika, this post is to help me and possibly others like me to know that if eren were to be with anyone, it would only be mikasa and even then there's no happy ending.

1. She got pregnant with eren.

First, let's assume she did. If so then why? For love? No. They never talk about feelings for each other. No one has ever teased them about each other, as the narrative has been constantly doing with both eren and mikasa. Eren and historia have a connection, an understanding based on their past. It's friendship, more like what eren shared with armin (when they both wanted to see the ocean) but later on, their dreams changed, hence their friendship changed too.

Let's assume now it was for love. What did it accomplish? Eren wanted to exterminate all life outside paradise prior to meeting historia and he is still following on the same path. So, nothing has changed! It serves no purpose.

Eren said he can't respond to mikasa's feelings because he will die soon. He didn't say " it's not like that or anything. Instead his response was, is there even a point? I will die soon, so I want them to continue living peacefully.

Why would he bring a child with historia who was portrayed in a romantic light with ymir? What purpose would it accomplish? It would literally be aganist what he wanted for historia and his loved ones.

Why did eren go to see historia in first place? Because he just wanted to see her out of love? No. He went to warn her about the MP's. To protect her. To tell her to stay quite until he accomplishes his plan.

Is it odd for eren to protect people? Nope. He couldn't even bring himself to hurt annie, so why in the world would he not want to protect historia.

The awkward panel positioning in my opinion was done deliberately to cast confusion. But when has isayama not done that? He had mikasa acting jealous towards annie and questioning eren about it, which led people to believe eren had romantic feelings for annie, and eren couldn't even understand what mikasa was implying. More so, even very later on in the story, eren was still portrayed as clueless about romance (104th and marco×hitch). So, clearly he never had romantic feelings for annie.

Also, sidenote ever since the idea of eren being possibly aware of romance was introduced in the story, it has always been in connection with Mikasa.

When they meet what do they talk about? Historia is grateful for eren's protection but what is eren fixated on ? Protecting historia, ridding the world of hatred, ending cycle of breeding and scarificing royals.

Does eren tell her anything he hasn't already told someone like floch? Eren didn't tell historia about his plan, because she is special to him (she is special no doubt, all his friends are). Eren told historia to protect her, but also because she could have been the only hurdle in his plan. The people who are special to eren never knew what eren was doing because he couldn't burden them with this gruesome decision. For the people who are special to him, he wants to make the world a safer place, so they can continue living peacefully. His words not mine.

Not saying cause of that historia is not special to him, she is, but because of her position as a royal she poses a threat to his plan. He had to burden her with the knowledge of his plan to both protect her and ensure he gets to do what he has always wanted to do. He wanted to ask her to stay quite until he is done.

Not even once in eren's memories, there has been an image of a tender moment with historia. Basically if he was the father, there will be something special about her or, kruger would have mentioned her name too. She wouldn't have been absent from the story for so long, like there would have been something to suggest otherwise? A tender moment like eren staring at young him wrapping scarf around mikasa. Why did eren tell mikasa he hates her? Why be so harsh to her? What are you so afraid of eren? That she might get hurt? That she might follow you to your death?

2. She got pregnant with the farmer.

I think this is the most likely scenario. A friend shared a twitter post with me by the user, eren 130 mute, and this 👇 aligns with my thoughts about the situation quite well.

Pregnancy with the farmer, showcases how distraughting her situation is. It is not be romanticized. Her situation is sad and desperate. They are truly talking about eradicting all humans outside paradise. It is a sad and horrible situation as is portrayed by both eren's expression and her's. Right after eren tells her about his plan, she becones distressed and ever since he annouced his plan to her, she has been wearing that gloomy expression.

3. She is faking the pregnancy

I don't think that's plausible. If the pregnancy was fake, firstly when Nile talks about it, historia wouldn't be shown sad in it. According to nile, queen can choose her own partner,so there's no reason for her to look so depressed in his imagination. His words don't correspond with the imagery that's shown. Why does she look depressed then? Because it is actually her real situation. She is truly not okay with this all.

Secondly, if the MP's are planning to feed zeke to her, won't they make sure in ever possible way that she is pregnant or not?

Faking the pregnancy sounds good in theory but it also doesn't serve any purpose. If faking the pregnancy was an actual thing, we could have never been shown historia, not given an explanation on who the father is. Instead we got all of that, what we didn't get is why she got pregnant? This chapter it seems like when eren reminded her of the time she saved him by being the worst girl, she proposes to have a baby. Why did she do it will become obvious when we get her pov.

And isn't this her?

Fake bump again?

Are we talking about snk or a soap opera?

And in snk, everyone is currently distraught and placed in horrifying situations, so why would historia be spared? Why would eren be spared? Mikasa, armin, jean, connie, hange, levi, annie, pieck, reiner, gabi and falco are all suffering. Why would these two be exempt of it?

Why would there be a happy ending for people collaborating on genocide? (Idk what historia's motives are as she did protest aganist the idea, but later dropped the resistance, refused to contact the survey corps or anyone about it just like eren asked? I know there's an explanation for it when we get her pov but I hope it's a good explanation). So, granted the confusion and lack of historia's pov, for now let's consider only eren and floch as supporters of genocide. I will go with my gut and say that she was probably trying to stop eren in her own way, like some plan she had? Clearly and sadly it didn't work.

What kind of message would isayama be sending then? If someone who is commiting genocide gets a happy ending, what would be the message of this story then? He is not just commiting genocide, but along the way hurting people who have always been there for him.

Let's see if official translation changes anything.

Thank you for reading.

Edited: I would also like to add that the odd panel positioning might be isayama being his usual trolling self. For instance, with chapter 112, he introduced the idea of ackerbond and same chapter showed mikasa slamming armin, due to which there was widespread belief that mikasa is not free and indeed eren hates her. (That was partially addressed this chapter. Again not completely, because it has to be left for EM meeting. It has to be handled gradually, because if eren is suddenly and directly shown to feel love for mikasa, it won't feel natural. There has to be some drama and mystery left, otherwise people lose interest).

Mikasa slamming armin on the table was meant to throw us off, it was meant to create confusion. It consolidated the views of people who were already looking a reason to discredit eren and mikasa's bond. Isayama did that on purpose, to throw us for a loop. It had people debating for so long that mikasa really does protect him due to some bond.

We are not supposed to go off based on one cherry-picked moment. We have to go back and see what the character's are about, where they are they headed, how consistent and inconsistent the information is, what the story has told us so far and where it's going..

[phoenix-downer]

Autumn Mending Chapter 2: Festivities and Memories

~4050 words. Romance, Angst, Pining, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Comfort, Healing, Making Up. For SoKai Day 2021.

Sequel to Kisses and Lies because I couldn’t just leave Sora and Kairi hanging, now could I?

Will have three chapters because the story took on a life of its own, and the actual final chapter will be the one posted on SoKai Day.

Summary: Sora and Kairi are still broken up, but with the help of old friends and Twilight Town’s autumn festival, the spark between them just might be rekindled.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

After her mission with Sora, Kairi had been left so confused. She’d thought, after that kiss, after that conversation, after the way Sora had looked at her, that he’d make a move. Ask to talk. Try to work things out.

But he didn’t. He was nice. He was cordial. But there was a giant wall around his heart, and no matter what she did, she couldn’t get past it. 

Breaking up with him was the worst mistake of her life. She could see that now, and how she regretted it more than anything. Because it was done out of fear. She’d been scared of the future. Scared he’d leave her alone again and never come home. Not like he’d done it on purpose before, but when he told her he was planning on continuing to fight instead of going to college or settling down, a deep, awful feeling of dread had settled in her stomach. 

Instead of discussing things with him, she’d talked at him and told him a bunch of things. Told him she was scared he was addicted to fighting and hopping from one world to the next. Told him she was afraid he wouldn’t ever want to settle down and start a family like she wanted to. Told him she feared he’d leave again on yet another dangerous journey and never come back this time. Told him she couldn’t live a life like that, couldn’t live a life where she never knew when her husband would be home, a life where her kids might be abandoned without any clue as to what happened to their dad and she’d be left to raise them alone. 

She’d never forget the look in his eyes that night on the beach. The hurt, the pain, the agony. The begging and pleading and promising to be everything she wanted and needed, then the tears and anguish when she told him it was over. They’d both cried their hearts out, and she assumed he would never forgive her after hurting him so deeply. Especially when he ran off the next day and avoided her for months afterwards. It wasn’t until Master Yen Sid had assigned them to go on that mission together that she got to talk to him again. 

How wonderful it was just to spend time with him once more. When she’d kissed him to fake out their enemies, it hadn’t been fake for her. She’d missed him so badly. Missed his smiles, his laughter, his heart. His hugs, his warmth, his kisses. His sass, his humor, his love. She wanted to talk to him about what had happened. Apologize for breaking his heart and beg for forgiveness and explain that the problem wasn’t him, no, it was her, it was always her, she was always the one making things difficult for them both—

But he’d been standoffish. He’d cut off her attempts to talk to him. Only near the end of the meal they’d shared in that food court was she able to confirm he still had feelings for her. It was his eyes that had given him away. It was always his eyes. They really were like the window to his soul, or more accurately, his heart. 

So then why did he act so awkward around her afterwards? Why did he avoid her? She despaired and figured she’d blown her final chance with him. So when the cute guy who worked at the souvenir shop asked her on a date, she thought heck, why not. Why not give another guy a chance. He was nice and the date was nice, but the moment he tried to kiss her at the end of the night, she knew this was wrong. It was all so wrong. 

Here she was, at the door to her parents’ house, the moon and stars shining down on her and this perfectly nice guy trying to kiss her, and all she could think about was Sora. She couldn’t get his face out of her mind, couldn’t help but wonder how he would feel if he knew this guy had almost kissed her. Couldn’t help but remember all the times he had kissed her.

Sora. It was always Sora. He would always have her heart. No matter what happened, that would never change. 

“You okay?” her date asked with a frown. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked first—”

“No, it’s not you, it’s me,” she told him. “You’ve been wonderful and tonight was wonderful, but I… I can’t go out with you again. I’m sorry.”

She’d retreated inside the house and threw herself on her bed and cried. Sora was the only one she ever wanted to kiss for the rest of her life. Wiping her eyes, she dialed his number. It just rang and rang and rang. She tried texting him. Nothing. So she called his mother. 

“I’m sorry, Kairi, but you just missed him. He said he’d be leaving and wasn’t sure when he’d be back.” 

Her heart sank as she thanked his mom and hung up the phone. Her timing really was awful. And if he wasn’t picking up her calls, she only had so many ways to reach him. 

He avoided her attempts to contact him for the next few months until finally, finally, she got a lead. She was chatting on the phone with Olette when Olette casually mentioned that Sora would be visiting Twilight Town for the fall festival. 

“Oh really?”

“Yep! Are you gonna come too? I thought you two were still broken up.” 

“We are, but I think he might still have feelings for me. And, to be honest, I still have feelings for him too.” 

Olette squealed. “Then you have to come!”

“Really?” Kairi asked, then chewed her lip. “You don’t think he’d be upset?” She hadn’t gone chasing after him because she wanted to give him his space. He hadn’t blocked her number, but he hadn’t responded to any of her attempts to contact him either. The message he was sending her was loud and clear: I don’t want anything to do with you right now. 

“Maybe he will be,” Olette said, “but if he is, you can just apologize and leave.”

“I don’t know, I don’t want to ruin his visit,” Kairi said as she twirled a strand of hair around her finger. 

“You won’t, trust me. If things get awkward, we can go do something else. I really do want to see you and hang out, you know.” 

So that was how Kairi had ended up here in Twilight Town, cautiously following Olette into the gang’s old hideout. Several different emotions warred on Sora’s face as he registered her presence. Shock. Frustration. Anger. Pain. But then, when their eyes met… the hurt and anger melted into something soft and vulnerable as he stared back at her. 

“Kairi?” he said, his voice far more tender than she deserved. 

“Um, hey,” she said back. “Listen, I know this is really last minute and unexpected, so Olette and I can go somewhere else if this is too awkward—”

“No, it’s okay. It’s… good to see you.” 

“It’s good to see you too,” she said, her voice breaking a little. They just stared at each other for a few moments until Pence cleared his throat. 

“So, um, shall we?” he asked, gesturing towards the makeshift curtain. 

“Let’s go,” Hayner agreed, and Sora stood. Kairi wasn’t sure what to do. Should she walk beside him? Give him his space? 

But their friends made that decision for them, because soon they were walking side by side through the back streets while Hayner, Pence, and Olette continued up ahead of them. Kairi loved seeing the little lanterns strung up between buildings and the fall leaves hanging on garlands, taking in all the delicious scents lingering in the air, and feeling the magical autumn atmosphere of the town. But no amount of good vibes could bridge the gap between her and Sora. 

“How have you been?” she finally asked because the awkward silence was unbearable. 

“Not too bad,” he replied, and his voice was surprisingly chipper, all things considered. “I’ve been saving munny, talking to Hiro about going to San Fransokyo Institute of Technology, that kind of a thing.”

She stole a glance at him. Saving munny? Going to a university? This was a far cry from the Sora who wanted to hop from world to world with no plan for the future. 

“What about you?” he asked. She couldn’t help but think he looked especially handsome today. Relaxed and casual and ready for the fall festival, and yet still put together. He always made everything look so effortless, even looking good.

“I’m still working at the crafts shop on Main Street,” she said, avoiding thoughts of how nice a hug from him would be right now. “Except for missions of course. And I’ve been thinking about going to a university too. Not sure which one though.” 

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’m sure you’ll do great wherever you decide to go.” 

She smiled sadly at him. That was Sora, always cheering her up and cheering her on even when he was upset. She wanted to say more, but they were at the festival now, and it was getting too loud to comfortably talk. Booth after booth lined the streets of Twilight Town, the trolley was decked out in fall leaves and decorations, and a few stages had been erected throughout the area for performances. 

First up for their little group were all the food booths, which was good because Kairi’s stomach was growling and she was craving delicious festival food. Pumpkin soup with piping hot bread, warm apple pie with cold ice cream, roasted chestnuts and salty pretzels, and her favorite, apple cider to wash it all down. The non-alcoholic kind because she wanted to be fully aware of whatever happened the next several hours. 

Sora got non-alcoholic apple cider too, as did Hayner, Pence, and Olette, and the five of them toasted each other. Sora’s hand shook a little when he accidentally brushed up against her hand, and their eyes met as they took their first sips of the cider. But instead of immediately looking away, his gaze lingered on her for a few more seconds.

Those few seconds made her want to hold his hand, to hug him, to apologize and explain everything that had happened—

But then the moment was over and he looked away. She ducked her head and tried not to let it get to her. Of course he was still guarded around her. Anyone would be. 

The five of them enjoyed the festivities in town for a while (Hayner, Pence, and Olette even gave a rousing karaoke performance of an old classic on Twilight Town), then hopped the train to go out to one of the farms in the surrounding area. Here was where the fun would really begin: a pumpkin patch, hayrides, an apple orchard, a corn maze, cozy campfires, falling leaves… 

As they walked the short distance from the station to the farm, Kairi took in the scenery around them. The pathway was lined with trees shedding their brilliant red, yellow, gold, and orange leaves, and the temperature was perfect. If she and Sora were still dating, this was the moment she would’ve grabbed his hand and leaned against his shoulder and sighed happily. 

But they weren’t, so she kept her hands to herself and tried not to stare at his hands. They were so big and strong, so gentle yet firm. She always felt safe in his arms and melted at his touch.

“Alright, first up is pumpkin carving!” Pence said once they’d arrived at the farm. “So, we gotta grab our pumpkins from that patch over there, then once we’ve paid for them, the three of us always compete with each other to carve the best pumpkin, and you know what that means?”

“What?” Sora asked.

“You and Kairi are joining the competition too,” Hayner said with a grin. “No backing out!”

“You’re on,” Kairi said. She grabbed Olette’s hand, and they giggled and took off towards the pumpkin patch.

“We’ve gotta get the best ones before the boys take them,” Kairi said. 

“Absolutely,” Olette replied. As they carefully scoured the pumpkins for the best-looking ones, Olette scooted closer and lowered her voice. Even though the boys were a little ways away, better safe than sorry. 

“He seems happy to see you,” she said. 

Kairi stole a glance at Sora. He was currently fighting Hayner and Pence off of his choice pumpkin, laughing as he swatted their hands away, and when their eyes met, she couldn’t help but smile. 

“And you seem happy to see him too,” Olette added. 

“It’s just nice to see his smile,” Kairi said as she examined a big orange pumpkin. Yes, this one should do nicely. 

“Kairi, it’s totally obvious you’re still in love with him and he’s still in love with you! Why aren’t you saying anything?”

Kairi sighed and hoisted the pumpkin onto her hip. “It’s my fault we broke up. I’m the one who broke his heart, and he’s been avoiding me for months on end. There’s no way he still feels the same way he used to about me.”

Olette sighed as she selected a white pumpkin and stood. “Maybe not, but it’s clear he still feels something for you. Why are you denying it?”

“Because if he still loved me, he wouldn’t be pushing me away,” Kairi said, staring intently at her pumpkin like it held the answers to all her problems. 

“Maybe he’s pushing you away because he does still love you. Maybe being around you just hurts too much.”

Kairi stole another glance at him. Was it possible? Was it possible he’d fled, not because he hated her, but because he still loved her? Was it possible they could fix what went wrong and make things better than ever? If only she could apologize. That was all she wanted, to apologize and ask his forgiveness. Then maybe at least they’d find peace.

Their eyes met again, and he smiled. A soft, gentle smile that reached his eyes this time, and she blushed and smiled back. Then Hayner grabbed his arm and Pence snatched his pumpkin away, and he let out a shout and chased after them, leaving her and Olette in stitches, they were laughing so hard. 

When at last the pumpkin situation had been sorted, the five of them carried their pumpkins to the carving tables and got to work. Gutting the pumpkins was always messy, but the pumpkin seeds were well worth the effort. She would take those home and roast them later with oil and sea salt for a delicious snack. That taken care of, she stared at her pumpkin. What to carve? A typical Halloween creature, like a wolf or witch or bat? No, that didn’t feel right. Wait, she had the perfect idea. She grinned and began, and before long, she was etching the same drawing she’d sketched on the cave walls of the Secret Place all those years ago. On a whim she included the paopu part too because why not. 

When it was time for everyone to reveal their pumpkins to each other, Pence had made a very impressive ghost, Hayner had carved a vampire, and Olette had made an adorable cat. Kairi’s nerves got the better of her when it was time to reveal her pumpkin, however, and she clammed up and said, “I’ll reveal it later, when it’s dark and everyone’s lighting their pumpkins!”

That way she’d have time to get rid of this one and do another one that wouldn’t pressure Sora or put him on the spot. 

“Sora?” Hayner asked.

“Oh, um, I’ll do the same,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Alright, next on the agenda isssssss… apple picking!” Pence called out like he was announcing the Struggle Tournament. They went to the entrance of the apple orchard, where a nice old woman handed each of them a bag and a pair of scissors and told them they could keep whatever they could carry. 

The best part about apple picking on Twilight Town was the experience. While Kairi did intend on filling her bag to the brim with juicy ripe apples, a big part of apple picking was eating a couple of apples first before picking more to take home. There were so many different kinds to choose from, soft plump red ones, tart crunchy green ones, golden ones with a rich flavor, sweet multicolored ones with her favorite taste… a veritable feast of delicious fruit. 

When they’d gathered the first round of their bounty, the apples they would eat right then and there, they sprawled out on a picnic blanket on the grass and munched away. Kairi’s eyes traveled to Sora as they so often had today because she loved the perfect look of contentment he always got on his face when he was eating something especially delicious.

And these apples were delicious. Kairi had only plucked three so far because that was all she knew she could safely eat, but she wished her stomach were as big as her eyes. The apples were juicy and delicious and perfectly ripe, and she kept having to dab at her mouth and chin because the apples were just that good. 

Once they’d had their fill and had filled their bags, they went to a special tent that would keep their goodies for them until it was time to go home. Their arms free once more, it was time for the corn maze.

“Hayner and I have already tried the one this year,” Pence said, “and let me tell you, it’s so convoluted it’s easy to get lost. Some people call it the Eighth Wonder of Twilight Town.”

“We’ll see about that,” Olette said with a smirk. “Bet I can beat your record.” 

“Oh, you’re on,” Hayner said, a glint in his eye. The moment the group entered the corn maze and were surrounded by stalks, Hayner, Pence, and Olette took off, leaving Sora and Kairi behind. 

“So, that’s a thing,” Sora said with a chuckle. Kairi giggled awkwardly and glanced at the sky. They probably only had about another hour of daylight left, going by the sun’s position. 

“I hope we can finish this thing before dark.”

“If we work together I bet we could.”

She nodded. “Okay.” 

They walked largely in silence as they tried different routes. Some were dead ends, but little by little they were making progress. And it was nice to just… be with him again. Working together on something. The silence between them wasn’t awkward the way it had been earlier today, either. It just felt safe. Comfortable. The crunch of crushed corn stalks beneath their feet was soothing, too. 

Kairi wondered if now would be a good time to say something or apologize. 

“Sora?” she said as they rounded a corner. One of the corn stalks brushed against his arm, and it rustled when it moved back into position.

“What is it?” he asked. 

“Thank you, for letting me join you guys today. I know you didn’t really want to see me, but I’m glad you let me stay.”

He was silent for a few moments as they continued, an unreadable expression on his face. “Who says I didn’t want to see you?” he said at last. “I have to admit, it took me by surprise, but I’m glad you came.”

She fiddled with her sleeves. “I am too.” 

He looked at her, the sun setting behind him, and she thought he seemed more radiant than ever. How could she have agreed to be away from him for so long? She should’ve run after him the moment he ran away from her. The first time and the second time. She’d gone after him before, why had she let her fear and shame stop her this time?

She reached for his hand. “Sora, I—”

“There you guys are!” Pence called as he burst around the corner. “Buncha slowpokes.”

Aaaaand the moment was gone. Sora ribbed on Pence for calling him a slowpoke, and soon Hayner and Olette joined them too, and together the five of them finished (or, in Hayner, Pence, and Olette’s cases, re-finished) the maze. 

But as she got a little badge from the booth at the end of the maze that congratulated her on finishing, she noticed Sora was waiting for her. He must already have his badge, so maybe he wanted to talk more. The other three had gone on ahead to get them tickets for the hayride, as it was quickly getting dark. 

“You should put your badge on,” she said as she joined him and they started walking towards where the hayride would start. 

“Already have,” he replied, pulling back his hoodie and pointing to the badge. Twilight Town Fall Festival Corn Maze Completionist! was written on it in tiny letters, along with a photo of this year’s maze. “But you haven’t put yours on yet. Here, let me do it.”

As he gingerly lifted her shirt enough to stick the sharp part of the badge through, she wondered if he was as affected by their closeness as she was. He was focusing carefully on the badge so as not to accidentally poke her, and that meant she could take everything in. His scent, his warmth, his eyes. How she’d missed seeing him, talking to him, being with him.

“Thank you, for doing the maze with me,” she said. “It was a lot of fun.” 

He smiled and met her gaze. “Yeah, it was, wasn’t it? I missed doing this kind of thing with you.” 

“I did too.”

A few moments of silence lingered between them. But then he took a deep breath and said, “Kairi, what were you gonna tell me earlier? Before Pence interrupted us, I mean.” 

Her mouth went dry and her palms got all sweaty. “Oh, um, I wanted to… I wanted to…” 

He patiently waited, and she knew she had to do this, she had to get it all out.  

“I wanted to apologize,” she finally said. “For hurting you. For breaking up with you. I never should’ve done that.” 

He stared at her, his eyes wide and his mouth open. Something very vulnerable was in his expression too, and that vulnerability gave her the courage to continue. 

“The way I handled it was awful too, just talking at you instead of discussing things with you. Maybe if I had, we wouldn’t have—”

“Hey, lovebirds, the hayride is about to start!” Hayner called, and her chance was gone. Or so she thought.

“We’ll be there in a sec!” Sora shouted back. “If you need to go, go on without us!” He turned his attention back to her. “This is more important.”

She nodded and fiddled with her sleeves again.

“You aren’t the only one to blame for this whole mess,” he said sadly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I ran away like a coward instead of talking things through with you. I was so hurt that I—”

“Last call!” Hayner yelled, and Sora sighed, irritation flashing through his eyes.

“This hayride had better be the best hayride in all the worlds,” he grumbled. 

“It’s okay,” she said, “we can talk more about this later.” 

He nodded. “We will. I won’t run or hide this time, I promise.” 

She dared to offer her hand. “I know you won’t.” 

He smiled sadly and took her hand, and as they hurried to scramble onboard the hayride together, she couldn’t help but hope that maybe, just maybe, things would be okay between the two of them. Sora didn’t let go of her hand as they settled in on one of the bales next to Hayner, Pence, and Olette, so that was a good sign. And as their guide began telling ghost stories as the tractor and wagon rattled along, she rested her head on Sora’s shoulder. He didn’t push her away, just leaned his head against hers, and his closeness made her feel so warm inside despite the chilly night air.

She hoped and wished and prayed with all her heart that after this was over, they could mend the hurt between them for good.