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Premium Residences in Embassy One Bellary Road, Bangalore

Embassy One in Bangalore also named as Four Season Private Residences is a ready to move super luxury apartments in Bangalore having configuration of 1,2,3 and 4 BHK residences. There are two towers, one is South Tower and another is North Tower.

Embassy One Bangalore Features

South Tower

Each residence consists of 1,992 square feet, and has been masterfully designed, meticulously executed, and meets the exacting global standards.

NORTH TOWER

There are a total of 4,100 square feet of residences in the North Tower, each with high ceilings, elegant finishes, as well as bespoke details.

FOUR SEASONS

Located in Bengaluru, Four Seasons Private Residences Bengaluru is composed of two 30 storey towers with immaculately designed homes.

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Embassy One Bangalore Nearby Location

Bellary Road, Bangalore, is the location of Embassy One.

Columbia Asia is located 5 km away.

Vidhan Soudha is located 5 km away.

Kirloskar Business Park is located 5 km away.

M G Road is located 6.5 km away.

Embassy Manyata Business Park is located 7 km away.

Embassy Golf Links Business Park is located 14 km away.

Stonehill International School is located approximately 20 km away.

The Bengaluru International Airport is 30 km away.

[corallapis]

Henry ‘Chips’ Channon: The Diaries (Vol. 1), 1918-38, entry for 4th July 1923

— 

Wednesday 4th July  Spent the day at Newmarket, Alice Astor, Serge [Obolensky], Paul [of Serbia], Baba Curzon (we are all furious with her, she has become so self-important and is quite convinced that she is marry the P of W. She has practically ‘carted’ Prince George who has long been in love with her) .... Returned in time to give delicious Norah Lindsay¹ and Gerry Wellesley dinner at the Embassy [Club]. How bourgeois these Wellingtons are! ... I hate them .... Gerry actually fell asleep at the play. He looked too awful, bloated, inflated and selfish ... yet I cannot keep away from him. He was annoyed at a mot of Paul’s ... he asked: ‘Why did Chips leave Chicago and come to live in London?’ ... Paul quickly answered: ‘To introduce the Duke of Wellington’s family and the Howards to English society.’ — 1. Norah Mary Madeline Bourke (1873-1948), garden designer, married in 1895 Harry Lindsay (1866-1939).

[robertreich]

10 Worst Things About The Trump Presidency

Donald Trump left office with the lowest approval rating of any president ever. But some people now seem to be suffering from amnesia.

Let me jog your memory. Here are 10 Worst Things About the Trump Presidency — in no particular order.

#1. Trump fueled division and sparked a record uptick in hate crimes.

#2. Murder went way up under Trump. He presided over the largest ever single-year increase in homicides in 2020. A number of factors might have contributed to that, but a big one is…

#3. Gun sales broke records under Trump, who has bragged about how he “did nothing” to restrict guns as president in spite of…

#4. Under Trump, America suffered more than 1,700 mass shootings.

#5. Trump said there were "very fine people" among the neo-Nazis in Charlottesville.

I’m halfway to ten. If you think I’m missing something big, leave it in the comments.

#6. Trump allied himself with the Proud Boys, a violent hate group who helped orchestrate the Jan 6 Capitol attack.

#7. Trump’s not wrong when he says…

TRUMP: I got rid of Roe v. Wade.

It is entirely because of Trump’s judicial appointments that 1 in 3 American women of childbearing age now lives in states with abortion bans.

#8. One of Trump’s Supreme Court justices was Brett Kavanaugh, a man accused of sexual assault by multiple women.

#9. Trump’s White House interfered in the FBI’s investigation of Brett Kavanaugh’s alleged sexual assaults.

And now: #10. Trump has been convicted of committing 34 felonies while in office. The criminally false business filings he got convicted for in New York? All of them were committed while he was president.

I’m sorry, did I say the 10 Worst Things About the Trump Presidency? I meant 15.

#11. Trump’s failed pandemic response is estimated to have led to hundreds of thousands of needless deaths. By the time Trump left office, roughly 3,000 Americans were dying of covid every day. That’s a 9/11-scale mass casualty event every single day. How did Trump screw up so badly?

#12. Trump’s White House discarded the pandemic response playbook that had been assembled by the Obama administration.

#13. Trump disbanded the National Security Council’s pandemic response team.

#14. Trump repeatedly lied about the danger of covid, saying it was no worse than the flu or that it would go away on its own.

But behind closed doors, Trump admitted he knew covid was deadly.

#15. Trump promoted fake covid cures like hydroxychloroquine and even injecting people with disinfectants.

After Trump’s “disinfectant” remarks, poison control centers received a spike in emergency calls.

That’s fifteen things. Should I keep going? Ok, I’ll keep going. The 20 Worst Things About the Trump Presidency.

#16. Trump presided over a net loss of 2.9 million American jobs — the worst recorded jobs numbers of any U.S. president in history.

#17. Trump profited off the presidency, making an estimated $160 million from foreign countries while he was president.

#18. Trump also billed the Secret Service over $1 million for the privilege of staying at his golf clubs and other properties while they protected him. That’s your money!

#19. Trump caused the longest government shutdown in U.S. history when he didn’t get funding for his border wall, which he said Mexico was going to pay for.  

#20. Under Trump, the national debt increased by about 40% — more than in any other four-year presidential term — largely because of his tax cuts for the rich and big corporations.

You didn’t really think I was stopping at 20, did you? We’re going to 25 —

#21. Trump separated more than 5,000 children from their parents at the border, with no plan to ever reunite them, putting babies in cages.

#22. The Muslim Ban. Yes, Trump really did try to ban Muslims from entering the country.

#23. Trump sparked international outrage by moving the American Embassy in Israel to Jerusalem while closing the U.S. mission to Palestine.

#24. Trump tasked his son-in-law Jared Kushner with drafting a potential Middle East “peace plan” with zero Palestinian input.

#25. And finally, Trump recognized Israel’s occupation of the Goh-lahn Heights, which is considered illegal under international law.

So there you have it, folks: The 25 Worst — Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Did I mention the impeachments? We’ve got to do the impeachments. Let’s go to 30.

#26. Trump broke the law by trying to withhold nearly $400 million of U.S. aid for Ukraine in an effort to extort a personal political favor from Ukraine’s Pres. Zelensky. Trump wanted Zelensky to interfere in the 2020 election by announcing an investigation into the Bidens. Delaying this aid to Ukraine weakened Ukraine and strengthened Russia.

#27. Trump personally attacked and ruined the careers of everyone who stood in the way of his illegal Ukraine scheme, including Ambassador Marie Yovanovitch and Lt. Colonel Alexander Vindman.

#28. To cover up the scheme, Trump ordered the White House and State Department to defy congressional subpoenas.

#29. For these reasons, on December 18, 2019, Trump became the third U.S. president to be impeached. He was charged with Abuse of Power and Obstruction of Congress.

#30. Even while he was being investigated for trying to get Ukraine to interfere in the U.S. election, Trump publicly called for China to interfere in the election.

So those are the 30 Worst Things —

I’ll go to 35.

#31. Long before Election Day, Trump started making false claims that the election would be rigged.

#32. After losing, Trump falsely claimed the election was stolen, even though his own inner circle, including his campaign manager, White House lawyers, and his own Justice Department and attorney general told him it was not.

#33. Trump kept telling his Big Lie even after more than 60 legal challenges to the election were struck down in court, many by Trump-appointed judges.

#34. Trump ordered the Department of Justice to falsely claim that the election “was corrupt.”

#35. Trump and his allies used threats to pressure state leaders in Arizona and Georgia to falsify the election results.

We may go to 40.

#36. When none of the previous schemes worked, Trump and his allies produced fake electoral votes cast by fake electors in multiple swing states. His former White House chief of staff and Rudy Giuliani are among the many members of his inner circle who have been criminally indicted for this scheme.

#37. Trump tried to bully Vice President Pence into obstructing the certification of the election.

#38. Trump invited a mob to the Capitol on Jan 6 with his “be there, will be wild” tweet.

#39. Sworn testimony alleges that when Trump was warned that members of the crowd were carrying deadly weapons, he ordered security metal detectors to be taken down.

#40. Knowing the crowd had deadly weapons, he ordered them to go to the Capitol and…

TRUMP: …fight like hell.

#41 — Yes, yes, I know, bear with me.

Trump betrayed his oath to defend the nation by doing nothing to stop the Jan 6 violence. Instead, according to witness testimony, he sat and watched TV for hours.

#42. On January 13, 2021, Trump became the only president ever to be impeached twice. This time he was charged with incitement of insurrection. It was a bipartisan vote.

#43. The majority of senators — 57 out of 100 — voted to convict Trump, including 7 Republican senators.

So that’s the two impeachments and the Big Lie, but wait, we haven’t dealt with Russia, right? So we’re going to 50.

#44. In a likely obstruction of justice, Trump pressured then FBI Director James Comey to stop the FBI’s investigation into Trump’s National Security Adviser, Michael Flynn. This was documented in the Mueller report.

#45. When Comey didn’t bend to Trump’s will, Trump fired him.

#46. Trump tried to shut down the Mueller investigation by ordering White House Counsel Don McGann to fire Mueller. McGann refused because that would be criminal obstruction of justice.

#47. When news got out that Trump tried to fire Mueller, Trump repeatedly told McGann to lie — to Mueller, to press, to public — and even create a false document to conceal Trump’s attempt to fire Mueller.

#48. Trump ordered his staff not to turn over emails showing Don Jr. had set up a meeting at Trump Tower before the 2016 election with representatives of the Russian government.

#49. Trump convinced Michael Cohen to lie to Congress about Trump’s plans to build a Trump Tower in Moscow, and Cohen served prison time for lying to Congress.

#50. Trump was not charged for criminal obstruction of justice because it’s the Justice Department’s policy not to indict a sitting president, but more than a thousand former federal prosecutors who served under both Republicans and Democrats, signed a letter declaring there was more than enough evidence to prosecute Trump.

So those are the 50 Worst Things About the Trump Presidency. Now I could go on…

And I will! The 75 Worst Things About the Trump Presidency.

#51. Trump said he’d hire only the best people, but…

His campaign chair was convicted of multiple crimes.

So was one of his closest associates.

His deputy campaign chair pleaded guilty to crimes.

So did his personal lawyer

His National Security Adviser

The Chief Financial Officer of his business

A campaign foreign policy adviser

And one of his campaign fundraisers.

They all committed crimes, and Trump pardoned most of them.

#52. Trump said he’d drain the Washington swamp. But he appointed more billionaires, CEOs, and Wall Street moguls to his administration than any administration in history

#53. Trump intervened to get his son-in-law, Jared Kushner top-secret clearance after he was denied over concerns about foreign influence.

#54. Trump hosted a Russian Foreign Minister to the Oval Office, where Trump revealed top-secret intelligence.

Oh, and Trump’s economic policies!

#55 Trump promised that the average American family would see a $4,000 pay raise because of his tax cuts for the wealthy and big corporations. How’d that work out? Did you get a $4,000 raise? Of course not! Nobody did!

#56. Trump vowed to protect American jobs, but offshoring increased and manufacturing fell.

#57. Trump said he would fix America’s infrastructure, but it never happened. He announced so many failed “infrastructure weeks” they became a running joke.

#58. Trump said he would be “the voice” of American workers, but he filled the National Labor Relations Board with anti-union flacks who made it harder for workers to unionize.

#59. Trump’s Labor Department made it easier for bosses to get out of paying workers overtime, which cheated 8 million workers of extra pay.

#60. Trump repeatedly suggested he might serve more than two terms in violation of the Constitution — and continues to do so.

#61. Trump called Haiti and African nations “shithole” countries.

#62. Trump tried to terminate DACA, which protects immigrants brought to the U.S. as children. Luckily this was struck down by the courts.

#63. Trump called climate change a “hoax.”

#64. Trump pulled out of the Paris Climate Agreement.

#65. Trump rolled back more than 100 environmental protections.

#66. Every budget Trump proposed included cuts to Social Security and Medicare.

#67. Trump tried (and failed) to repeal the Affordable Care Act, which would have resulted in 20 million Americans losing insurance. And striking down the ACA’s protections for the roughly 130 million people with pre-existing conditions could have driven up their insurance premiums or led to a loss of coverage.

#68. Trump made it easier for employers to remove birth control coverage from insurance plans.

#69. By the end of Trump’s term, the number of people lacking health insurance had risen by 3 million.

#70. Trump lied. Constantly. He made 30,573 false or misleading claims while president — an average of 21 a day, according to Washington Post fact-checkers.

#71. Trump allegedly took hundreds of classified documents on his way out of the White House, reportedly including nuclear secrets, which he then left unsecured in various parts of Mar-a-Lago, including a bathroom. He was even caught on tape showing them off to people.

#72. Trump seriously discussed the idea of nuking a hurricane.

#73. When Hurricane Maria hit Puerto Rico, Trump delayed $20 billion of aid and allowed Puerto Rico to be without power for 181 days.

#74. Trump suggested withholding federal aid for California wildfire recovery and said the solution was to “clean” the “floors” of the forest.

#75. Trump pulled out of the Iran deal, placing Iran on a path to developing nuclear weapons.

Honestly, there’s so much more, from exchanging “love letters” with North Korea’s brutal dictator to publicly denigrating a Gold Star military widow and making her cry, to the way he attacked journalists, to late night tweet binges.

Look, I can understand why a lot of people want to block all of this out of their memories. But we cannot afford to forget just how terrible Trump’s time in the White House was for this nation.

And we sure as hell can’t afford to put him back there.

[stoopakoopa]

Day 8 - Reunion

Drew out a little snippet from @donze-trash's fic for @mesdelostrescaballeros2024!!

Part of a larger continuity being uploaded on ao3! Read it below ⬇️

Donald pulled up outside the apartment where Panchito was staying and took a deep, fortifying breath. Of course he was excited to see his friend again! Of course he was excited for The Three Caballeros to be once more reunited, even if only for a day. There was just that one catch—he felt bad even calling it a catch, like it was somehow a bad thing that he and Zé had finally professed their love for one another—but it would always be awkward telling Panchito. Surely, the duck thought with an internal groan, things would unavoidably change within the trio.

To make it all worse, José had been away on flight shifts when Panchito arrived in town, and Donald had agreed to only break the news when his new boyfriend had returned. He was a terrible liar about this kind of thing: his tongue got all tied up and his beak chattered when he spoke. How in the hell was he supposed to—?

The Donald Duck Pity Party was cut short as sharp, energetic chatter caught his ear from the street: Panchito was being seen off and heading straight for the car. Donald flung himself toward the back seat, toward the gift José had planned to hand over today, and hastily threw a spare blanket over it. The thick, scratchy wool did a decent job of concealing the obvious shape of a brand new guitar, at least if you didn't pay it mind. They'd give it to him when they were all together. That's how they were supposed to do things. Together.

Panchito appeared, waving goodbye to someone before bounding out of the apartment complex. His face lit up when he saw Donald, and before Donald could even get a word out, Panchito had leapt into the front seat, pulling him into a bear hug. His wide sombrero wobbled dangerously, but he didn't seem to care.

"¡Ay caramba, amigo! What took you so long to get here?" Panchito exclaimed, yanking Donald into his arms despite protest from his seatbelt, all to kiss Donald's cheek with his usual enthusiasm.

"'Ey, Pancho! How you doin' amigo?" The duck choked out, finding it a little easier to act natural amid the strangulation.

Panchito released Donald to pinch his cheek playfully. "Better with you here! I've been working on that new song I told you about last night! What about you? What have you been up to all day?"

"I'm doin' swell! And nothing much! Been taking 'er easy today." He lied, and not well—he was already talking too much. "Excited, though! Not every day I get to hang out with my two best pals!" Donald pulled away from Panchito's hold in order to return his attention to driving, feeling too awkward to linger in the warm hold, however much he usually would.

The charro clicked the seatbelt into place and leaned back in his seat, apparently unfazed by the duck's haste. "Ay güey, I'm just hyped that we are finally getting together again for a change. So, what are we doing this time? Are we gonna hit up the club so hard we get kicked out again? Or maybe reopen the Magical Mythical Monster Petting Zoo from Scrooge's secret vault? Or how about we raid the Anvilania embassy and get the ambassador drunk again? You know she still calls me." 

Donald nodded, absolutely not absorbing anything the rooster was clucking about in favor of focusing on the road. He was happy, of course; his friend's exuberance was infectious to say the least. It had indeed been too long since they got to hang out like this as a group… but a part of him still felt tense. He chanced another glance at the vaquero—oblivious, humming merrily, a long leg resting against the door as he propped up his foot on his knee and took up what little space his seat offered. He wished he could feel so carefree.

When they arrived at the little airport, Panchito's excitement was hard to miss. Before the car could even finish pulling up to the 15-minute zone, he'd unbuckled and bolted out of the car window, running ahead towards the tarmac and calling out for Zé at the top of his lungs.

"Yeah, don't wait up or nothing!" Donald called after him with a roll of his eyes. Crazy bird, he hadn't even put the car into park yet!  The lighthearted atmosphere Panchito had cultivated was at war with the impulse to complain bubbling inside him because he wanted see Zé first, to get a chance to hold his boyfriend first before they had to act respectably platonic in front of their none the wiser companion. It wasn't jealousy, not exactly, just…

One hug, one second to let the weight of the week melt off was all he wanted. But that wasn't happening. Not yet. Instead, he'd have to wait and keep playing the part.

"Great," he muttered, jerking on the car's parking brake. "Just act natural. Simple."

The airport, while always abuzz with people from all walks of life and from every corner of the globe, was relatively less hectic on a weekday like this, and José was all the more grateful for it. Deplaning the small jet from Panama was fairly routine and done quickly, leaving Zé with a little free time before he met up with his friends. He brought with him his single suitcase, loaded with more clothes than his usual amount, plus some souvenirs from Brazil and the several other countries he had stopped in during the work week. There were things for the kids back at the manor, plus a homemade gaúcho style poncho pala made by his vovó for Della (whom the old bird had assumed was still freezing from her time on the Moon).  Strapped to the outside of the suitcase (because it could not fit) and wrapped in cloth was José's gift to Donald, a new hammock for his houseboat. He hoped he would like it.

Walking to the exit, Zé attempted to steal himself for the reunion to come. Not so much for seeing Donald, though his blood ran quick with excitement for him to be sure. But Panchito, whom he had not seen since they met for that ill-fated holiday to Bahia that never came to fruition. They had kept in constant contact even after their break up, though it caused pain on both sides. They had been determined to preserve their eternal friendship even in the face of romantic disappointment. And though it took some years for Zé to be able to look the rooster in the face without the unbearable ache in his chest urging him to take it all back and try again, he never wanted to lose sight of what drew him and the other two Caballeros together in the first place. They were his family, no matter what happened.

Even when I act like a stupid teenager and run crying to my ex-boyfriend about my hopeless crush, which turned out to be not so hopeless after all because we're together now and— Merda!

Zé closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. It was very good that he had this spare moment to compose himself as he entered the airport proper.

The distant sound of a familiar crow cut through the din of the crowd, stopping Zé in his tracks. That voice—there was no mistaking it. And like the call to sunrise, it made his heart want to leap into the sky. Spotting a tall flash of red, and a hat that he insisted was too big for his head, standing tall amongst the crowd, Zé dropped his suitcase and his umbrella and ran forward like his tail was on fire. Before he even had time to think about it, he was launching himself into Panchito's arms. The rooster caught him instantly, just like old times.

"¡¡AAAAAAJAJAJAJAJA!!" Panchito's triumphant grito echoed across the terminal. His grip was tight, almost desperate, and his wide grin spoke volumes. Zé could feel the emotion radiating from him—Panchito had missed him more than words could ever say, that much was clear. His whole body seemed to hum with excitement. 

"José!! Mi cielo!" Panchito crowed, his voice overflowing with affection as he slowly, reluctantly, released the green parrot. 

Zé smiled warmly, returning the sentiment. "It is so good to see you, docinho!" His tone was as light and affectionate as ever. "It has been too long!"

"No manches, pendejo, it's only been a few months!" Panchito guffawed, his eyes sparkling with unfiltered happiness. His grin stretched wide as he shook his head in disbelief, the warmth in his expression unmistakable. The man was an open book, his emotions always worn on his sleeve.

The malandro chuckled softly, adjusting his hat. "Well, yes, but it has been twice as long since the three of us have been—" He stopped, scanning the area. "Espere, onde está o Donald?" 

Panchito's expression shifted briefly—a flicker of realization, maybe impatience. He glanced back toward the car, where Zé knew Donald must still be catching up. The vaquero's elation had clearly driven him to rush ahead, leaving their other friend behind. Zé could almost feel the mixture of emotions brewing under Panchito's playful exterior, a familiar tug of longing buried in the joy of reunion.

But Zé knew better than to bring that up. He simply smiled again, his voice calm, teasing. "Always in a rush, eh  mano?" 

"Life is too short to sit still," the rooster replied assuredly, and his hand which still rested on his waist in a half hug pulled him in for just an instant, a punctuation to the point. 

"Hey, ya found 'im! Over here, guys!!!!" a distinctive voice cut through the busy hum of the arrival hall and Zé immediately turned towards the sound, his heart immediately catapulting into the stratosphere.

"DONAL'!" he and Panchito shouted in unison, their voices echoing across the platform. The moment the malandro caught sight of Donald looking flustered and determined as ever as he weaved through the crowd, all the excitement, the nerves, the longing came rushing back to him. He broke from Panchito's hold to sprint to him with ever increasing urgency, his heart pounding not from exertion but from sheer jubilation.

Quickly he closed the distance between them, throwing his arms around the sailor and pulling him into a tight embrace. He fit into his arms perfectly, and for a moment he didn't want to let go. Donald absorbed the impact with ease and let Zé down safely, the rest of the world seeming to melt away in an instant. Zé quickly buried his face into Donald's shoulder, feeling the comforting weight of his lover's arms around him. There was relief, adoration, and an overwhelming sense of peace. Even for just a fleeting moment, everything felt right—like he was where he belonged.

"Meu querido..." Zé whispered softly, just for Donald, though he didn't linger on the words. He knew this interlude was fleeting.

Sure enough, as if sensing their private moment was up, Donald's voice broke through their quiet intimacy. "Panchito...?" Donald called, one arm still wrapped around Zé as he extended the other towards their rambunctious rooster to include him.

Zé was too distracted with cuddling up to his sailor's side to register the gleam in Panchito's eye, at first. As it was, it was only the loud, triumphant yell that signaled their impending doom, and the parrot felt he had little choice but to make sure he didn't endure it alone, his arm holding his duck in place.

"No, wait—!" Donald started, but it was too late.

Panchito came down hard from where he had launched himself into the air like a luchador delivering his finishing move. Elbow extended, he crashed into the two of them with the energy of a firecracker bursting on impact. Donald let out a choked WAK! of surprise, his arms flailing as he was knocked clean off balance. Zé, caught in the middle of it all, simply accepted his fate with a laugh, not even trying to brace for the collision.

They tumbled down in a heap of feathers, beaks, and limbs, Zé wedged between his two best friends, both of them piled on top of Donald, who lay sprawled at the bottom. He could feel Donald wheezing beneath him, dazed from the sudden assault, while Panchito—of course—was perched victoriously at the top of the pile, leaning on one elbow like he owned the world.

"Órale! ¿Que te pasa? You were supposed to catch me!" Panchito chortled, looking entirely too pleased with himself as he flashed a wide, playful grin down at the both of them. "I could have gotten hurt!" 

"God forbid…" Donald rasped weakly.

Zé couldn't help but chuckle, even as he lay squashed in the middle. Completely unconcerned by the chaos, he wiggled into a more comfortable position between them, his head resting against Donald's back. He could feel the frantic beat of his partner's heart beneath his cheek, could hear the shallow breaths as Donald tried to recover. There was no tension, no frustration. Just pure, unbridled affection. Even in moments like this—especially in moments like this—Zé felt nothing but love for the both of them.

This was how it had always been with the three of them. Chaos and laughter, roughhousing and tenderness, all tangled together in one messy, beautiful friendship.

"Well, caras," Zé sighed contentedly, "it is good to be back where I belong."

"Where, with all of ya on top of me?" the sailor beneath him groaned, barely able to get out a full breath with all the pressure bearing down on him.

Don't tempt me, the malandro thought before immediately shelving it for later.

[plush-rabbit]

Foggy Minds

Word Count: 4.7K A/N: I dont know his body!! So I tried to leave it ambiguous and yeah!! i also wrote this just for the ending bit

-

It’s a fucking joke. A cruel one. Angels- or at least Exterminators- are known for their cruelty. Raining down from above, a storm cloud that leaves red behind. Even after the destruction and death, the guts and gore that leave a lasting stench, the cruelty isn’t done. The angel Adam still has to bring torment down to Hell.

A wolf in sheep’s clothing is what he is. He can pretend he’s higher than the sinners down below, but he’s just as crude, if not more so than the worst of them here. It’s a tradition at this point for both you and him. He brings hell on hell, and a week later, he flies down once more, calling the club that you work at, demanding for you to be sent to the Heaven Embassy. However, as the next Extermination Day comes close, he’s called for your services once again. You wish you could say no, but he pays quite a lot for you, and you could always use the money.. 

You hate the walk there more than anything. It’s like everyone knows you’re off to go fuck the Exorcist. You look both ways before disappearing through the doors of the Embassy. Maybe they think you’re getting a meeting with- someone. 

The Embassy is empty, and every step you take echoes out in the room. You’re terrified. You always are. It never stops feeling like a trap. Even in the elevator on the way to the suite, you can only stare at the golden doors in front of you, your reflection distorted and twisted. 

If you’re going to be honest- you aren’t sure why it’s you who has to come up. It’s Adam- he’s bragged enough about how he can have anyone, and yet, he pays for a sinner’s cunt. You make sure to not feel special, to squash any pride down. Perhaps it’s too tedious to pay for another sinner or hellborn, and it’s best to just get what he knows will be a good fuck. You sigh and look away from your reflection and the glowing numbers. Still, you show up and do your job. You've taken better and worse clients. The angel is just someone in between. 

The doors open and you pass a few doors until you reach his suite. You don’t know why the Embassy has so many rooms, and when you tried to ask Adam, he made a comment about how you could have a fuck-a-thon, doing it in each room, and you sneered at the idea. 

Your suite- or rather his suite- is unlocked like always. You waste no time, stepping into the shimmering room. It’s livable. A kitchenette on one side, a bathroom with a wonderful shower tucked in the room, and a massive bed pushed to the end of the room. The room is bright, golds and blues, a deep dark wood carved into ornate decorations, and you feel out of place. It’s nice- far too nice for you to show up and defile it with what you’re going to do. The room never ceases to amaze you. There aren’t many places in Hell where the colors are bright and soft at the same time, where things look so pristine and untouched. When you once mentioned to Adam how nice the room was, he laughed and told you that there were far better rooms in Heaven. A part of you still wishes that he would have offered to show you- something, pictures, descriptions, anything. 

“Took you long enough!” The angel says, leaning back on the bed. “I pay for your entire time, ya know? From the walk from your whore house to the embassy, the least ya could do is hurry it up. I’m a very important angel, ya know?”

“You ordered me like last-”

He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “I don’t want excuses.” His hand waves in the air, and he sits on the bed. “Come on, let’s get to it.” You roll your eyes at him as you walk closer. “Oi! Don’t roll your eyes at me,” his voice is laced with disgust, and you remember that he looks down on you- in more ways than you would care to admit. “Come on, strip.” Your hands go to unzip your skirt. “And make it good!”

You bite your tongue. Your shirt is the first to go. The action is slow, tantalizing as your fingers skim over your bare skin, and your skirt follows suit, pooling on the floor. You step out the fabric, and your heels click on the floor. Adam watches you, his hands scratching the bed covers. You spread your legs over his right, and grab his hands, letting them touch your ribs and then moving towards your back. 

You can feel the tips of his claws scratch at the clip of your bra. You press your cunt over his robe covered thigh, and grind over it softly. “Please, Adam,” you beg. “Take it off for me?” Your hands rest over his chest, and he watches as you grind yourself over him, your hands fisting over his robe, and you wonder for a moment if maybe you did a bad thing- if this was the wrong move. But then your bra straps fall down your shoulders, and it’s discarded somewhere in the room.

You hiss when his mouth suckles on a breast, the other breast being pinched and pulled at. He sucks so softly, letting his tongue roll over the swelling bud, teething at it so you hiss and arch yourself further into him. You can feel a wet spot grow, and you can’t help but rock yourself over your thigh. The other breast is manhandled, twisted and pinched that has you gasping and fisting holy fabric in your sinner hands. 

You're pushed off and his hands claw over your hip. You get the memo, and peel off your underwear, the wetness of it noticeable, and the only mention of it is when Adam pockets your underwear. You wish you bought another pair with you. The heels are tossed aside, and strong hands push you down from your shoulders. You fall onto your knees with a hiss, and you know what you have to do.

-

“And- And- Oh fuck, that’s it, baby-” He hisses, his head tilted back. The hand fisted into your hair tightens, sharp stinging encouraging you to swallow more so he could let go. “I’m just saying that why would you settle for anything less than-” A moan interrupts his monologue and you look at him through glossy eyes. “Oh fuck. It’s like a fucking gift to suck me off.”

A string of spit and pre-ejaculate connects to your lips as you pull away. It’s thick and white, and you’re gasping for hair, a hand wrapped around the base of his cock and you push yourself to swallow his package, fitting the pair into your mouth as your hand pumps his length. He’s breathing heavily, and you know he's upset at the loss of contact with your mouth with the way that his hand tangles itself into your hair, but his mask is twisted, and you pop them out of your mouth. Your mouth feels dry despite the excess spit- you suppose it’s the salty taste that lingers. 

You take him back in your mouth, eager, and begging for him to just spill his seed already. Your cheeks hollow, and he’s heavy on your tongue. Your tongue swirls over a vein, and you can feel him twitching.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he hisses, his hands cradling your head. You hum, and brace yourself, your hands holding at his thighs, bracing yourself for him to thrust forward. His hands tighten, and he thrusts into your mouth. You gag around him, your throat constricting around him. It’s a horrid sound, loud and hollow, and acid threatens to bubble over. As he continues to pump himself into you, spit dribbles from the corner of your lips and you’re grateful that you were ordered to remove your clothes. 

“That’s right, take it. Oh fuck, fuck-” a string of curses fills the room, and he’s unrelenting, pushing deeper into your throat. A hand slips to grab at your breast, eyes squinting when you can feel the spit coat over your chest. Your other hand tightens around Adam’s thigh, your nails pinching into him.

Your fingers pinch over your nipple, rolling it over, desperate to take your mind off of the assault of your mouth. His thrusts get deeper and harsher, and he’s still in the back of your throat, holding you down. Curses mutter in the air, sharp and slurring together, and he keeps his eyes on you. The eye contact is far too much, the piercing eyes boring into your entire being, and it must be some type of power play for him. You choose to focus on the base of his cock. With your nose pressed into his pubic bone, you cough around him, and finally he pulls away, his seed laying thick on your tongue. Tears wet your face and mix with your spit and the drops of his seed. 

He grabs your chin and you open your mouth, showing the mess that he’s made. Letting go, you stay still, as he taps his cock on your face. It’s tacky with your spit and leaves you feeling much filthier than you would like to admit. You hold the seed in your mouth and he gives a nod, and you make a show of swallowing, and open your mouth to show him. “Did you want me to do a blessing before you swallow?”  He teases. “With my holy cum, I grant you the opportunity to fuck me.” He chuckles at his joke.

“Thank you, Adam,” you murmur, hoping that the soreness on your jaw will go away.

“You know, you could learn how to relax your throat. You’d think after doing this for a living, your gag reflex wouldn't be a thing.” You send him a dirty look, and his grin widens. “So fucking sensitive. What did you want me to tell you? That you were good?”

You aren’t sure what mood he’s in at the moment. Sometimes you can tell when he wants to fight with you- where he wants to punish you and call you a sinner as he ravages you, but then there are moments when he wants you to beg for him, to tell him how good he is, how you want his cock more than anything. But at the moment with your skull pounding and jaw sore, you spit out a simple, “Fuck you.” His grin widens, and he hoists you up onto the bed. The stickiness on your face ruins the soft comforter, and you feel too dirty to even touch something so nice.

“I was going to be nice and just fuck you, but shit, you had to talk back.” 

A hand grips at your rear, and a finger teases at your hole. You hiss at the contact, and you're glad you’re face down or else you’d never hear the end of it of how flustered you must look. As if reading your mind, he flips you over, your face exposed and your hands immediately cover the lower half. 

“Adam-” you squeal, instinctively trying to close your legs only to have them pried apart. 

“Don’t worry,” he says casually. “I just wanna look at how wet you got just from sucking on me.” A finger traces against your slick and you watch as he tastes the finger. “Damn, I should have let you keep your panties on if I knew you were going to get this wet.” A finger enters and you squirm, suckling the intrusion further into your softness. “You’re soaked. And all you had to do was suck me off. You know, if I could keep you, I would.” He enters another finger, pushing the two inside until he’s at the knuckles. “I’d give you a nice collar, a nice bed, and all you would have to do is be my little cocksleeve.” He pulls out, and thick strings of slick connect his fingers back to your cunt. He returns his fingers to your cunt, now with the addition of a third. It’s a wide stretch, a sharp pain being overridden with pleasure. “I bet you’d like that. You’d live a pampered life, and all you have to do is keep your pussy spread open for me.” 

With a yank, you’re pulled further into the bed. The comforters make a soft noise, but the bed itself doesn’t creak. You watch with half-lidded eyes, focused as he rests on his knees beside you, his cock growing, the scent of it enough to make you go dizzy. You brush your cheek against it, licking at the side of it when he thrusts his fingers into you.

You sit on the bed, his cock pressed against your face, and with a mind too delirious to think of anything else, you pull him into your mind, lazily bobbing his head, as his fingers scissor inside of you. 

You breathe heavily, your mind growing fuzzy with the stimulation. He’s slow and lazy, massaging the inside of your gummy walls as he looks down at you taking his cock once more. A hand brushes your hair away from your face, and you pull away, pecking at his cockhead, nuzzling the glistening head against your lips. It isn’t enough for you, and you swallow him once more, humping into his hand when he gives a smart smack to your cunt. 

“Turn around,” he orders, and you scamper to do so. You don’t get a moment to prepare yourself, until he’s bullying himself inside of you. Your hands claw at the comforter, and with watery eyes, you see the fabric tear apart underneath your claws. “You’re clamping down hard around me,” he breathes out, and you buck your hips, trying to feel him deeper into you.

Above you, he's heavy, and selfish, pumping into you relentlessly. The sound of skin slapping against skin is harmonized by your moans. He grunts above you, whispering strings of obscenities and few words of praise linger in the air.

“Oh fuck,” he grunts out, “so fucking good.” His breath is hot against you, fanning out into feathered tickles that touch at your body. He’s never been one for intimacy before reaching his peak, always preferring to be lustful, so you never expect him to actually kiss you, but in moments where he rights just at the right spot, you’d wish he do a little more to make it feel something other that whatever this all is.

His body is pressed against your back, hands squirming underneath to grab at your breasts. His hands are rough and unforgiving, pulling and pinching his nails into your soft skin, You can feel the warmth of his breath against your neck, puffing and huffing, murmurs about how you feel wrapped around him, and you bury your face into the comforter. Your mouth is slacked open, spit pooling down, as your moan helplessly around him, body taut and nerves feeling as if they’re on fire. 

“No fucking wonder you’re a sinner,” he seethes out, his thrusts harsh and deep, enough to have you see stars and think about how as selfish as he can, he feels so good. “With a pussy this good, I bet you had everyone lined up for just a taste.” You let out a low whine. “Yeah, I bet you did. No wonder you were hired at that sex joint. Did you have to fuck the owner to get in? Ha?” His tone is wicked, and you’re unsure if it’s his words or the fact that you’re so close as to what is making you tear up. His weight above you shifts, and by your hair, you’re yanked back. You yelp and tighten around him, tears slipping down. “I asked you a question.”

“I didn’t-” you yelp as he continues to bully himself inside of you- “I didn’t hear it, ’m sorry,” you mumble, your scalp stinging with pain. 

“Too fucked up on my dick to even think,” he hisses, pushing you down onto the bed. He pulls himself out, and you whimper, shaking your head and pushing yourself closer to him, your cunt weeping for more of him. “A cock hungry slut is all you are, huh?” His cock is pulled out, and he watches you whine, your cunt gaping and leaking slick that makes your thighs glisten. 

“Adam, please,” you moan, turning your head to look over your shoulder. You can feel the drool stick to the side of your lips. 

“Please what?” he spits out, his eyes flickering to yours, before returning to your ruined sex.

You let a whimper, high-pitched and desperate. You fall back to the bed, your eyes looking forward, and your hand slips underneath you, fingers peeking towards your cunt, feeling the warmth drip onto your fingertips. “I want more,” you tell him, your words muffled by the comforter. “I want you,” you tell him, hoping that he’d take pity on you for a moment.

The tip of his cock brushes itself against your opening, and you clench around it, your body aching for more. “Nah, you have to do better than that.” Your cries are shushed, brows furrowed and you’re turned over onto your back, “Come on, I’ve heard you beg before.” Two of his fingers enter you, thrusting in painfully slow. “You know what to say already.” Your chest rises and falls rapidly, your fingers twisting the bed sheets into spirals. You shake your head, humping pathetically into his hand. “I promise to make ya feel real good.” 

“Adam,” you croak. He pulls his fingers out, and tears gluten over your lashes. “Please, I wanna be fucked.” Your legs tense when you feel the tip of his cock nestle itself inside of you. “I’m just a filthy sinner who needs-” you yelp when he thrusts himself inside of you, the entire lengths filling you nicely- “needs to be fucked by your holy dick.” His hands curve over your hips, scratching softy over your skin. 

“A little more, honey, and I’ll ruin that demon pussy for you.” His hands curve over your hips, scratching softly over your skin, his voice low and sweet for you.

“Adam,” you plead, your hands curving over your breasts, “I need you,” you whisper in a haze. “I need your cock in me, I wanna cum real bad. I need you. I need you to fuck my sinner pussy.”

He gives you a lazy smile, and gives a nonchalant shrug. “Good enough.” He pushes himself inside of you. Your stomach coils into a heat, and you suck in a harsh breath when his fingers slip to rub at the bundle of nerves between your legs. “You have a fucking grip on my dick. What is it? Are you close?” You let out a broken moan. Your legs kick up, and wrap around him. “If I cum in you, you’re dealing with it.” His grin is sharp and predatory, and it only makes you drag your hands down his arms.

Your hands reach up, and you hold the sides of his neck, your hands curving behind, and you just feel tufts of hair peek from underneath the mask. A hand reaches to grab your wrist, holding it tightly, and you’re sure you’re going to have a bruise afterward. “You fuckin’ slut,” he spits out. “You think just because you got my mask off last time, I’ll let you look at me again?”

“Adam,” you whimper out, scratching at the back of his neck with your free hand, “please. I just wanna look,” you slur out. You know you’ll regret saying those things when you’ve sobered from him, but sex always did make you softer, needier. You think that must be why he decided to continue to hire you- to see you pant for him and stroke his ego. “You’re so pretty, I wanna see,” you lament. “I wanna- I just- I wanna look at you when I cum,” you stumble over your words, your fingertips tapping against the bottom of the mask. The golden eyes narrow at you, and you can only look for so long until you turn your attention elsewhere.

His mask is tossed to the side, and his irises glow. The hand that holds your wrist loosens, and you cup over his cheek, the stubble on his chin scratching at your palm. “Fuck- Oh fuck,” you hiss out, your heart beating against your chest rapidly. “I’m gonna- Oh my- Adam! Fuck,” you hiss, the knot in your stomach tightening, a pressure building more and more until you’re sure that you’ll burst. 

Even as your body shakes, he doesn’t stop. He continues moving his hips, pushing all of himself inside of you, his breath coming out in pants above you, his smile sharp and face flushed. A hand wraps around your neck, and you arch yourself into it, whining and mumbling at how your cunt is still too sensitive, how he has to slow down, but he coos at you, and he tells you how good you’re benign for him, and you hold onto his wrist with your hands. 

Adam places his face close to yours, his lips and breath fanning above yours, and you’re stuck staring at his eyes, unable to look away from the gold in front of you. You lick your lips, and you brush against his. He stares at you, and your face burns. 

He gives shallow thrusts, and is still inside of you, and you can feel him. You can feel the heat, and the stickiness leaks out of you. He keeps himself there, and hides himself into the crook of your neck. After a moment, he slips out, and you can feel the heaviness of his seed weep out of you in slow and heavy drools. 

You lay in the afterglow, chest heaving and sweat and more sticking to your skin. Your body is on pins and needles, and laying on top of the soft bedding, you could fall asleep right then and there. Nestled into a pile of feathers and gold, you could die- again- and be happy with it. 

But then the man- the first man- groans and you remember that this isn't the time to play house. You have a job. Or rather, you had one, and now you have to return. You lift yourself up into a sitting position, and you stare at the bathroom. A part of you wants to take a shower, but you fear that if you even just tasted what luxury is, you’d have to be pried out of the embassy. 

With a sigh, you lift yourself off of the body and gather your clothes. The lack of underwear is something that you frown upon, but when you look back to the angel, with the demand for its return, you can’t bring yourself to ask for it. You’ve walked around without it before when customers got handsy, this is nothing. Your skirt is tight, and long enough that only a pervert would tell. 

“So,” he trails off, lying on his back, “do you wanna cuddle or something?”

Your eyes widen, and as you flatten your skirt, you thin your lips. “Uh, no. No thanks, Adam. I’m uh- I’m good.” You straighten your top, and tap your heels against the floor, the sharp click echoes in the chambers. 

“Whatever,” he huffs, “I was just gonna psych you out anyways.” He waves his hand, and cool air rushes around you. 

You let out a sigh, looking at the mirror where you stared at yourself just a bit ago. Your hands play with your hair, making sure that when you leave, it won’t look like you just slept with someone. You hum, and tilt your head from side to side, trying to find some sort of mark that would have to be hidden. However, the cool air- his own magic or blessing- has fixed any evidence of indecency on you.

“The extermination is next month,” Adam sighs. Your eyes flick up, and you catch him staring at you- golden eyes piercing into your own, unblinking and unbothered. 

“I’m aware,” you tell him, returning to look at yourself in the mirror. You stand straight and let out a sharp sigh. “I think some of the residents are already panicking.”

“Are you?”

Your stomach knots itself, and you remember when you were first bought by Adam- the nervousness, the disgust, the bile burning your throat. It’s all too familiar at this moment. You shrug. “I don’t think it’s set in yet,” you mumble. 

“I’ll come by the night before.” You look at the white tiles- the grout filled with shimmering gold, and the tiles patterned with silver and gold lines. “I’ll leave the back door unlocked like last time.” He doesn’t say the words nicely, it’s more like an afterthought, as if telling you this is a bother, but still, he tells you this, and one thing you've learned about Adam is that he hasn't lied to you yet. You fist the hem of your skirt in your hands, and nod. It’s silent, and then he starts again, annoyance laced into his words. “What do we say?”

“Thank you, Adam,” you tell him in a beat. 

“Yeah, well, I can't have my favorite whore die.” His wings unfurl and stretch across the bed. The tips of the feathers reach just beyond the mattress, and you shrug. The words hang heavy in the air, and you feel small compared to him. In the mirror, you can see his reflection, his  mouth thinning, and his eyes narrowing. “I- uh- I still have you for ten more minutes.” You make eye contact with him in the mirror. “Get back here. I wanna suck on your tits.”

You stick your tongue out, and your hips sway as you walk towards him, your heels falling carelessly to the floor as you rest beside him. His hands are cold as they peel off your shirt and without a care, he tosses it to the foot of the grand bed. A hand cups at your breast, and you can feel his breath fan over your chest, and you wait to feel his teeth bite at you, but you never do. The wetness of his lips trace over the swell of your breast, a peck pressed against the bud, but never swallowing it. Your chest is heavy with his weight on top of you, and the hand on your breast unfurls and curves over your ribs. His wings expand, and they partially cover you, the softness of them akin to the finest blanket in what only money can buy. 

Realization as what he’s doing has your body heating, and you worry that he can tell with the way that he’s laid bare on your chest, and yet, he makes no snide comments. This is far more intimate than anything you’ve ever done before. With a harsh swallow, your arm wraps around him, your hand reaching upwards to scratch at the back of his head. Your hands knot into his hair, your nails dully scratching along his scalp. He lets out a low hum in response, nuzzling his cheek over your bare skin in approval. 

With a shaky breath, you break the silence. “You know, I was thinking, that maybe I’d uh, give that Hazbin Hotel a shot.” You feel his hands scratch over your ribs, straight, and piercing, and they cling to you as his breath hitches. “I’m not sure I believe in the whole redemption thing, but free housing is nice.” You feel him nod slowly, and you twirl a piece of his hair around your finger. He gives you a short answer, one that is mumbled into your skin and doesn't make its way to you, and his wings inch further up covering more of your body as he brushes his lips against the swell of your breast. You don’t look at the time even when you feel that he’s grown heavier on your body.

[wardenparker]

Bones Full of Words, ch 5

Javier Peña x plus size reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

“He pleaded so much that he lost his voice. His bones began to fill with words.” ― Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

Javier Peña had no way of knowing for certain the American journalist he sometimes sees sniffing around the embassy for her stories is also getting information about the narcos from the same girls that he is. After Helena is brutalized by sicarios, it is that same journalist who comes to take her away and look after her -- giving Javi reason to pause and reconsider his opinion of the woman he had previously not considered as anything more than eye candy.

He has no idea that once she has walked fully into his life, he will be battling with himself over whether or not he should stop her from walking out it of again.

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 11.3k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: sex work, time period appropriate sexism, cursing, alcohol, food/eating, talk of weight or size, fatphobia (sometimes internalized and sometimes not), canon typical violence* Fatphobia, misogyny, internalized fatphobia, self-esteem issues. Summary: The raid on the club effects more than just the people inside, and it finally puts you and Javier in a room together for a real conversation to be had. Notes: Hi all! Sorry about the erratic posting schedule, but I'm doing my best. Thankfully I'm coming out of my busy season at work and moving into something that is chaotic in a different way 👍

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4

Getting an oversized guard dog into the back of your tiny, broken-down car and halfway across the city was not on your checklist of things to do today. Fleeing your apartment was not either. Getting Chi-Chi to vaguely calm down enough to drive was a task in and of itself, but when you finally pull your car into one of the spare parking spaces adjacent to Javier's building, you breathe a sigh of relief. At best, you know where his spare key is. Though you doubt he'll be glad to see you in his apartment when he gets home from a night of work.

You just didn't know where else to go.

Javi sighs as he closes the door. He's had to convince himself not to go to the club the entire way back to his apartment. Almost turning around at one point, but he knows he would just be turned away. He doesn't want to care about your safety, you've made your feelings towards him very clear, but he can't just leave you to twist in the wind.

Up to his floor and to that now-familiar front door, you take a deep breath and tell Chi-Chi to sit before knocking twice on Javier’s door. Even if you assume he’s working — why wouldn’t he be? You’re not just going to barge into his place. Not after the awful things you said to him. Not when he very well might have saved your life tonight.

Turning and frowning at the door, Javi puts down the cigarette he had just been about to light and opens the door. His eyes going wide when he finds you on his doorstep with a very large dog by your side.

Chi-Chi starts to bark immediately, but you reach down (barely having to reach) to soothe her and frown apologetically when you look back up at Javier. “I didn’t know where else to go,” you admit softly, wondering why he’s here and if he’ll even let you in.

Javi opens the door wider and wonders if the acute sense of relief is just because of your soulmate status. He has thought more about fucking soulmates in the past week than he probably ever has in his entire life. "Want a drink?" He grunts, figuring it would be a neutral question and shouldn't piss you off too badly.

“Thank you.” Your own relief is just as mysterious, but you’re willing to set that aside for now just because you’re grateful to be safe. “I’ll um…I’ll put Chi-Chi in the guest room. She’s well behaved and has had a lot of excitement so hopefully she’ll just take a nap.”

"Let her sniff around." Javi doesn't mind dogs, he likes them. He doesn't approach the large furry creature, but he does offer a hand if she would like to sniff him. "The more comfortable she feels, the quicker she will calm down."

“She doesn’t like men,” you offer, trying to explain why you were going to set her up elsewhere. But aside from barking just once, Chi-Chi hasn’t done much besides look at Javier curiously. So you let her off her leash with a scratch behind the ears. “She uh…she’s my landlady’s dog. My landlady and my neighbor were both out tonight so it was just me and her and…and I didn’t want anything to happen to her.”

“She’s protective.” He hums, watching as the dog cautiously approaches him. Her nose is wet and warm as it bumps against his hand and he doesn’t move as she starts to sniff him.

“It’s okay, sweet girl,” you coo softly to the massive dog, fascinated to see her like this with a man for the first time ever. “Javier’s good. We can trust him.”

He almost snorts at the comment, knowing the last thing you do is trust him. But maybe that’s not true, you left your apartment after all. After long minutes of sniffing his hand and his shoe, a brief bump against his crotch, the dog bumps her head under his hand in the universal demand for attention. “Good girl.”

“She’s sweet,” you assure him, and breathe a sigh of relief when Chi-Chi accepts the pets she is given and goes to flop down at the feet of the armchair you used to like to sit in while you were staying here. It must still smell like you. “We, um…we won’t overstay our welcome. I know you didn’t mean to invite me over when you called.”

“I doubt you can go home tonight.” Javier admits. “If you don’t want to stay here, I can get you a hotel.” Helena isn’t here to be a buffer anymore. “But there are clean sheets on the bed.”

“I’d feel safer here,” you admit with a half shrug of your shoulders. He has been busying himself with pouring drinks and you accept one gratefully. “Are you, um…are you okay?” You motion to your own cheek, indicated where he has a bruise blossoming from the fight earlier. “I mean…is that why you’re not at the raid?”

“Suspended.” Javi takes a sip of his own whiskey and reaches up to touch his cheek, wincing slightly. “Bastard.” He hisses, wishing he had blacked both of Alex’s eyes.

“Motherfucker,” you murmur with a shake of your head, and sit down in the chair that Chi-Chi is currently guarding. “I’m sorry.”

“Could be worse.” He shrugs slightly. “I could be a CIA prick.”

“He…did not look good.” That is for damn sure, though you’re still hesitant about whether not you’re entitled to even say anything about it.

“Good.” Javier grumbles a little under his breath, but he’s happy that little fucker is having a worse day than he is. He drains the rest of his whiskey and walks back to the bar cart.

“Can I ask…” You’ve barely touched the glass in your hand but you hang on to it tightly like some kind of security blanket, wondering if Javier is already regretting letting you in. “What the fight was about?”

He turns and looks at you for a moment, his brows pinched together and he’s about to say something sarcastic when he sees that confused and worried look on your face. The same one that you had worn when the ambassador had been there. One that said you couldn’t possibly think that the fight was about you. “What do you think it was about?”

“If I had to guess?” Since you’ve been chewing on it all afternoon and now with the raid tonight? It seems obvious to you. “Something to do with the CIA staking out the club you were — are — going to raid?”

He shakes his head and takes another swallow of whiskey to dull the ache and to settle the unease in his stomach that’s been rolling around since he ran into you in the embassy halls. “Not quite.” He grunts and sighs after that, his shoulders rolling slightly. “It was about you.”

“Me?” The audible surprise in your voice is enough for him to understand that that is the very last answer you were expecting.

He turns towards you, aware that you will just claim he’s using your soulmate connection to control you or he’s jealous, but he says it anyway. “He’s a fucking prick. You don’t need to be with that son of a bitch.”

Deeply confused about why he even cares, you just take a sip of your drink and look down at your toes. “I already dumped him.”

“Good.” Now he understands why the prick had felt the need to take stabs at your weight, he was emasculated when you dumped him.

“What about me?” You ask after a pause, since it doesn’t make any sense to you that either man would care that much. Enough to get into a fist fight over someone that neither of them, apparently, liked a little or at all.

"Doesn't matter." He's not going to hurt your feelings by telling you what the man you had been sleeping with was saying about you.

“If it was about me, don’t you think I deserve to know?” Maybe you shouldn’t push, but being told the reason doesn’t matter feels a lot like saying you don’t matter. And if they were fighting about you then that clearly isn’t true.

Javi rocks his jaw, hating that you are pushing this. "He was running his fucking mouth." He finally says after staring at you for a moment. "So I punched him in it." Hopefully you will leave it at that, but he has a feeling you won't.

“It was that bad?” You ask simply, bewildered that Alex could possibly have cared enough to say anything cruel.

He doesn't say anything, just stares down into his drink and hopes that you will let the question die if he doesn't answer. He honestly doesn't know why he cares what that fucker thinks about you. You made it clear that you would rather anyone else be your soulmate, and it's not his business what kind of man you decide to fuck. Still, he had been like a bull with a red flag waved in front of his face. Reacting furiously and only now examining the whys of the moment that had gotten him suspended.

Stoic silence has never exactly been a response you have taken lightly or well, and the attitude that you came here with —apology and peacemaking — so easily gets stomped under the heel of your shoe when provoked even the slightest. “If it’s that bad then don’t I deserve to know?”

"Christ, you won't let it go, will you?" Javi sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "He fucking called you an assignment because no one picks a fat chick, but maybe he would visit again because 'even whales suck cock'." He doesn't snap it out as hatefully as Alex might have, but he can't look at you when he says it, immediately draining the rest of his whiskey to have something to do.

It’s certainly not the worst insult you’ve ever had slung your way in your life, but it’s not kind by any means. But it is the sort of comment that will probably have you second-guessing even going to Freckles or Vanessa for at least the next several months. The kind of comment that will have your eyes downcast at floor and pavement without the confidence that you have spent your entire adult life working to cultivate. The kind of comment that makes you feel as useless and unwanted as you always did as a kid. “Got it,” you murmur, head bobbing in a repetitive nod. “Got it. I, um…I’ll get out of your hair…” you decide, setting down your glass and altogether ready to flee his apartment despite having nowhere to go, just so he won’t see how genuinely hurt you are by what Alex said. Or worse, how much you appreciate the fact that Javier stepped in to defend you.

"Don't go." Javi won't make you stay, but he doesn't want you to leave when you're upset. He can hear the hurt in your voice. His eyes sliding over to where you are halfway out of your seat. "You don't have to." He has a feeling that being alone would be the worst thing for you.

“You can’t possibly want me around when I’m like this.” The tears have welled up in your eyes and are threatening to spill over, and Chi-Chi has sensed the change in your mood, sitting up in front of you and whining softly in concern. “Or at all, for all the grief I’ve given you.”

"Don't go." He murmurs again softly.

“I’m sorry.” That’s when the first tears fall. With two small words that mean so many different things.

"Don't be sorry." He shakes his head, frowning and wishing that he had another drink but he doesn't move. "It's not your fault he's a fucking prick."

“I’m sorry for so much more than that.” You wipe at your cheeks, calling yourself back to order as quickly as you can and also scratching between sweet Chi-Chi’s ears to soothe her so she doesn’t get too worked up. “I’ve given you nothing but grief and you didn’t deserve it.”

He frowns slightly, wondering what is with your change in attitude. "No, I didn't." He won't mince words and make you feel better. You were wrong about him.

“Helena set the record straight.” He deserved to know the discussion that was had about him just like you did, even if the one about you was far worse. “About how you protected her, and she was the one who insisted on trying to get information. That—that you didn’t send her in for it. I misunderstood the whole situation and I’m sorry for thinking the worst of you.”

Javi lets your explanation settle over him for a moment. Absorbing it. Letting it sit for a moment before he nods. "It was a shit situation." He admits. "At least she survived. Can one day move past it. Unlike the other girls that went with them that we fished out of the river last week."

“They’re all psychopaths. The sicarios.” The best you can do is shake your head in utter disgust. “But she’s going to be okay. It will be good for her to get to move. To get away from the memories, at least physically.”

"They are." That he will completely agree with. His jaw tightens slightly, knowing that right now he is on the outs of the action, unable to be there. Murphy probably won't even call him tonight. He looks at his empty glass and knows that before he gets too drunk, he should probably eat. "You hungry?" He asks, looking over at you curiously. He had never been around while you and Helena ate, often working long hours that week that you stayed here, but he had appreciated the leftovers in the fridge.

“Sure.” The olive branch he’s offering isn’t insignificant, and you’re not going to ignore it. Especially when you actually are hungry. In all the commotion of the day you’d completely forgotten to eat at all.

"Anything in particular you want?" He reaches over and nudges your drink towards you, urging you to drink it. "I can go pick something up or we can get it delivered."

“How do you feel about Lebanese?” It hadn’t at all been what you expected to see when you arrived in Bogotá, but there had been a wide variety of international restaurants in the area owned and operated by immigrants from other countries. Not the least of which was the amazing Lebanese restaurant two blocks from Javier’s apartment.

“I normally get the lamb kafta.” He tells you. “Haven’t tried much else on the menu to be honest.” He’s a simple guy, if he likes something, that will be what he orders every time. Someone had brought some in to the office one day and he had asked where it had come from.

“Have you never tried their falafel?” You ask in mock shock. The fact that you’re pushing forward, trying to be relatively normal with each other, it matters more than you want to admit.

“I don’t have clue what that is?” Javi admits with a snort, shrugging slightly. “Is it good?”

“It’s amazing, I promise.” In fact you’re prepared to swear to it, just hoping that what you consider amazing also fits his taste buds.

“Then I’ll let you order.” He offers, figuring it makes more sense because he doesn’t know what you like. In fact, he knows very little about you. “Sound good?”

“I’ll put it under your name.” And you’ll get an order of his lamb kafta, just in case he doesn’t end up liking the falafel. You’re balancing on a very thin and fragile tightrope right now so you don’t want to push too hard. Not anymore than you already have, anyway.

“That’s fine by me.” He stands with a groan and fishes his wallet out of the back of his suit trousers and pulls out some money. “I’m going to take a shower.” He tells you. “Use this for the food.”

“I’ll have it back by the time you’re dressed.” And you’ll use your own money, but there’s no use turning it into an argument. Arguing seems to be what you and Javier do best and most easily, but you’re trying to avoid it for at least a little while.

“Don’t leave.” He stops and turns around with a frown on his face. “Have it delivered.”

“Okay.” The look on his face is so set that you only nod. “I promise.”

He nods and looks like he’s going to say something before he just turns around and walks to his bedroom. Eager to get out of the suit and clean up a little.

It would be easy and very like you to just disregard his request and go pick up the food on foot. It wouldn’t take very long and it certainly wouldn’t be difficult. But something about breaking this first promise you made to him in good standing just doesn’t feel right. It feels worse than just sort of off. So you head back into the kitchen and pick up his phone, dialing the number for the Lebanese place listed on the front of the menu at the top of his take out drawer.

Javi feels bad about asking you to stay in the apartment, but he gets the nagging feeling that if he lets you out of that door, he won’t see you again. Plus he’s on edge, knowing that the sicarios will be trigger happy after they learn a kill team has been sent out.

You’re closing the door behind the delivery guy when Javier comes out of his room. “Good timing,” you tell him, holding up the bag. Your shoes are off and sitting by the door, so hopefully he doesn’t question that you kept your promise.

You are still in the professional wear from the Embassy, making him feel guilty about changing his own clothes. He doesn’t have anything for you to change into and he doesn’t want to embarrass you by bringing that up. “Good.” He hums. “I’ve realized I haven’t eaten anything since a slice of toast this morning.”

“I’ve had coffee and cigarettes, does that count?” Forks from the drawer and refills for each of your glasses, and before you know it you’re both sitting down at his table with plastic takeout containers full of fragrant dinner.

“Coming from a place of complete hypocrisy—” he points at you with a fork. “That’s not good for you.”

“Bite me,” you smirk, and shove the container of falafel, rice pilaf, labneh, and other tasty goodies toward him. “We both have terrible habits.”

He glances down at the container and pokes at it with interest. “Didn’t say we didn’t.” He points out. “But you took care of Helena, maybe you should take care of yourself.”

“As long as I’m in enough of one piece to get my work done, I’m fine.” You shrug, poking at the container of kafta, turnip pickles, and baba ghanoush in front of you. “Besides, I think we’ve established tonight that I could stand to lose a few pounds.”

“Don’t do that.” Javi huffs, picking up one of the round little balls and inspecting it. “There’s not a goddamn thing wrong with you and you know it.”

“I definitely do not know that, but I appreciate the vote of confidence.” The first bite of lamb is unctuous and warm with spices, but you lean on the table and frown. “I’d be the biggest liar in the world if I said I hadn’t heard it before.”

“Because people are fucking assholes.” He snorts again and shakes his head. “Are you happy with who you are?”

“Fuck no.” You snort at the absolute ridiculousness of that question and lean back in your seat. “Why? Are you?”

“I don’t know much about you, but I don’t have any problem with anything I’ve seen so far.” Javi shrugs slightly, a little surprised by the vehemence in your response when you see so self-assured. “You’ve got a nice ass.” He adds, as if that helps prove his case.

For a minute you just stare at him, bewildered, before a disbelieving laugh punches its way out of your throat. “I—what?”

He looks down at his plate again, stung by the laugh when he had thought he was being nice. “Okay.” He huffs, shoving a bite of food into his mouth. “Forget I said anything.”

"No, no, I mean—" You pinch your eyes shut and remind yourself not to snap back. To just be a fucking normal person for once in your life instead of always being on the defensive. "I'm surprised that you...I mean I thought you hated me. That's what I mean."

“You hated me.” Javi corrects. “I didn’t know you.” He remembers that one meeting in the street in front of the brothel and snorts. “Except we sleep with the same women.”

"I hated my assumptions." You're a big enough person to admit that, though it feels appropriately humbling. "Thankfully, they were mostly wrong."

“Mostly?” That amuses him in an ironic kind of way and he wonders what it is that you think you have gotten right.

“Mostly.” Though this does make you smirk slightly. The amusement is so deep-seated you can’t help it. “I was not wrong about every woman you speak to falling at your feet.”

“Shiiiiiiit.” Javi snorts and shakes his head with a sardonic smile on his face. “That’s damned sure not the truth.”

“Name one,” you counter, knowing he’ll struggle. “And the ambassador doesn’t count.”

He lifts a brow. “You.” He says bluntly. “Damn sure woulda remembered you falling at my feet.” He takes another bit of the rice and reaches for a lamb kafta.

“I did.” You fidget slightly in your chair with the uncomfortable realization that he didn’t notice you at first. Not that he should have. But knowing that he is your soulmate makes it sting now. “The first time I saw you…at the embassy. I was with one of the secretaries and she…she told me about you.”

“You wore a pink shirt,” Javi hums. “Three inch heels that made your ass bubble up under a pencil skirt.” He had thought about it, thought hard on it and remembered seeing you around the embassy in passing. Although you always seemed to skitter away from him rather than come towards him.

“How…?”

“Because you were wrong about me not seeing you.” Javi has a wandering eye, he won’t deny that. If there’s a woman around, he’s going to appreciate her beauty. “You just seemed to rush away any time you saw me.” You seem shocked that he is telling you this and he wonders if it’s because you think that you shouldn’t receive a lot of attention because you aren’t thin.

“I guess I’m just…used to not being noticed.” It’s a nasty feeling to admit it, but being more or less invisible has always given you an edge as a journalist. Let you observe and be absorbed by what is happening around you. Apparently that isn’t the case when it comes to Javier.

“I noticed.” He takes another bite of his food and notices that you haven’t eaten much so he motions to your plate. “Eat.” He orders softly. “Noticed you outside the brothel too. Wondered if you were a client or if you were going to become a working girl there.”

“My editor wouldn’t sign off on me going undercover,” you admit, picking up your fork again. “I almost did it anyway.”

Javi shakes his head. “You don’t want to do that.” He frowns and looks down at his food, thinking about Helena. “For good damn reason.”

“It took me a while to get my footing down here, that’s all.” He doesn’t seem to be a big fan of the falafel, so you switch plates with him and try to find your appetite again.

“Thanks.” He pokes at your plate and frowns. “You like that, right?” He asks, wanting to make sure you aren’t just switching to make him happy.

“I got both of our favorites…” It feels silly to admit, but here you are. “Figured it couldn’t hurt to try.”

“Did you try it?” He doesn’t wait for you to answer, just reaches down and picks up one of the skewers to put on your plate.

The striking difference in how he’s treating you now versus just a week ago is enough that you simply nod, thank him, and try to imagine what it would be like between you now if the unfounded anger — yours was unfounded, his was reactionary — had never existed. If you had met by accident. Spoken that day at the embassy, or any of the others since. If Alex had never been a part of your life. If you hadn’t fled your honest attraction because Colleen had advised you to stay away from the skirt-chasing agent.

The silence settles between the two of you. It’s not uncomfortable, but it’s anticipatory. As if waiting for one of you to break and ask a question, any question. He takes another bite, happy when you start to eat again. Keeping an eye on you as he starts to devour his own plate. He’s got a lot of experience waiting for a suspect to talk, understanding the value of silence and how it affects some people.

To say that you have questions would be somewhat of an understatement, but what’s overshadowing it is that you don’t even know where to begin. When your whole consciousness is wrapped up in trying to understand, how do you choose where to start? Some part of you seems to build up and build up, until what comes out of your mouth is finally: “So why is the elephant on your thigh?”

The question of you really being his soulmate is put to bed. He had thought that it might have been some kind of joke. The girls yanking both of your chains, but he doubts they told you about what kind of tattoo he had. They might have fucked with him, but they wouldn't share that. "Who sees my thigh?" He asks, chuckling quietly. "I can't have visible tattoos, it's too dangerous."

“Sure, but…” It came out more bluntly than you meant it to, you know that. It’s just so hard to try to imagine how you and Javier are meant to knit together so perfectly that the universe made you soulmates. “That was blunt. I’m sorry. It just surprised me when it appeared. It’s the last place I ever would have thought to put a tattoo.”

"It's a spot I...." He struggles with how to explain it. He sighs softly. "It's the last place my mother touched me." He admits after a moment. "She was surprisingly alert, reaching over and grabbing my thigh." He looks down at his food and remembers how his frail and perpetually exhausted mother had suddenly had a burst of strength. "It's— that spot is where her thumb was. Elephants were her favorite animal. It made sense when I was drunk."

“It makes perfect sense,” you assure him, voice dropping in shame over having asked so bluntly. You really do just spit things out sometimes. “I’m sorry about your mother. It sounds like you were close.”

He wonders why you sound upset, but he nods. “Thanks. She was amazing.” He glances up at you again. “What about yours?” He asks. “Any special meaning?”

Because you had just taken a bite you have to wait long enough to chew, but eventually you motion to your right foot, where your one small tattoo sits on the outside of your ankle. "The anchor? Yeah, it's...it's on our state flag." He raises one eyebrow slightly, so you explain. "Rhode Island. We have an anchor on the flag and the state motto – hope – underneath. I got it so that no matter how far I traveled, I would always have a piece of home with me."

You're nostalgic and sentimental. He can see the wistfulness in your eyes as talk about home because that's apparently what it is to you. "Makes sense." He chuckles. "I thought maybe you had been in the Navy or something."

"One of my brothers joined up, but that's the closest I'll ever get." His laugh, though small, is infectious, and you end up joining him in it. The warm sound shared between you is almost a hug. "I love boats, but not rules."

"Yeah." He grunts, reminded of his own disciplinary action because of breaking some rules. He sometimes gets annoyed at all the red tape and he's not above doing dirty deeds to make sure the bad guy doesn't win. "I get that."

"Is there..." You shift in your seat, feeling acutely aware of yourself. “Anything you want to know about me?”

Javi is fantastic at flirting. Amazing at charming women and getting in their pants. This is much more important than those simple tasks. "Why journalism?" He asks, looking into your eyes and wondering why a reporter from Rhode Island was here in Colombia, if not to somehow run into him.

"People deserve to have their stories told." It's why you specifically tell human interest stories. Why, as a reporter, you have focused on sharing the words of people who otherwise might not be heard. "Helping people understand each other is something that newsprint can still do really effectively."

“Your stories are really compassionate.” He agrees, looking back down at his plate and realizing he’s almost done.

Surprise overtakes your face again. "You've...read my stuff?"

He looks back up at you, frowning slightly at the surprise. “Why wouldn’t I?” He asks. “You’re my soulmate.” It seems simple to him, he considered it research and at the time, he wanted to know why the fuck you seem like you thought you had some kind of moral upper hand.

"I guess," you swallow, embarrassed all over again. "I guess I've never really had high expectations for whatever relationship I might have with my soulmate. Nothing to do with you specifically. I just didn't hold out very high hopes."

That’s something Javi could relate to. He chuckles and shakes his head. “So we both weren’t looking forward to meet the ‘perfect match’ the universe chose for us, huh?”

"It doesn't sound like it." Another tick in the column of things that the girls had said you have in common. The irony certainly isn't lost on you. "But here we are."

“Soulmates were kind of ruined for me.” Javi figures you should at least know why he had been so unenthusiastic.

“How so?” Not all soulmate pairs are perfect. You know that. You’ve seen plenty of it in your own life. But it sounds like he has a very specific example of why he wasn’t looking forward to meeting his.

“I was engaged.” Javi figures you deserved to know. “Hell, I stood her up, didn’t go to the church.” He huffs slightly. “You ever meet someone and you’re told that they are perfect for you – they are what you are supposed to want – but there’s just something you can’t put your finger on?”

“Yeah,” you huff slightly, acknowledging your own memory even as you nod. “She lied to you about being your soulmate?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “Told me that she was pregnant too, doubling down on the pressure for me to tie the knot.” He had felt sick and trapped, hating how he was being dragged along to this elaborate wedding that was supposed to be the talk of the town. It was, but not for the reasons Lorraine’s family had hoped for.

“Shit.” That takes some serious balls to go into, with lies that big, and you’re instantly furious with this woman for being so selfish.

“I got drunk and got the tattoo the night before the wedding.” He explains. “I was already upset my mother couldn’t be there, so the tattoo was a way to keep her with me.” He picks up his glass and takes a sip. “That morning— shit it was probably four-thirty? I was hungover and needed to talk to her. Figured I could get around that old wives’ tale about it being bad luck to see the bride of the sun wasn’t up yet.” He laughs at himself. “She was wearing’ these little red shorts. Tiny things that she honestly would have been better just not wearing anything to bed. But she didn’t have a tattoo.”

“Hell of a way to find out.” Instinctively, you reach across the table. Fingertips find fingertips and even though you only touch him for a second you try to offer some small comfort. “I’m so sorry. She sounds horribly selfish.”

Javi looks down at his hand and yours still just within reach. “I didn’t even confront her.” He admits. “Couldn’t think. Just left and went through the motions of getting ready to get married to a woman who had lied to me, who had manipulated me.” He shakes his head. “When we were driving to the church….I just drove by and kept going.”

“I can’t lie,” you swallow a laugh, not wanting to seem insensitive. “I would have made a scene. That bitch’s dirty deeds would have been smeared all over town.”

“It came out. But she was more humiliated, standing there waiting for me to show up when everyone was at the church.” He shrugs. “But if that hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t be in the DEA.”

“You would have stayed home instead of joining?” It’s only in this moment that you realize you don’t even know where he’s from.

“I was a Webb County Sheriff’s deputy.” He tells you. “I took the job after college so I could take care of my mama. Lorraine wanted me to quit and go work for her dad, and I didn’t want to do that, but she probably would have gotten her way if we got married.”

“Webb County…” Running through the Rolodex of relatively trivial information in your head, it takes you a few seconds before you place the department but then your head pops up like you’ve won a prize. “You’re from Texas.”

“Laredo.” He confirms and he’s curious how you know that. “Although I don’t think that Texas has the only Webb county.”

“I’m sure they don’t.” You can agree to that right away. “But if I combine the fact that you specifically were a sheriff’s deputy it narrows down the number of states you could be from, and then cross-referenced with what’s left of your accent and the fact that there more than ten DEA field offices in Texas, including one in Webb County? It…it narrows it down.” Revealing how your mind skips around to make connections and your weirdly encyclopedic knowledge of certain aspects of government organization makes you fluster at the table and look away, assuming that he’ll find it uncomfortable or off putting like so many others do. It’s useful for your work to be able to do this sort of thing, but people tend to find it odd.

He tilts his head and studies you for a moment, impressed by the way that you filtered through the pieces of information to come to your – correct – answer. “Huh.” He muses. “Maybe I should come to you with information rather than the fucking CIA.”

“Journalism is also a way to utilize all the weird factoids in my head,” you admit, quietly pleased that he doesn’t immediately think you’re some freak of nature for the way your mind makes connections.

“It’s fighting through the bullshit useless information to put the pieces together that you need.” He nods. “You’re analytical, but compassionate. I can see that in your writing. You don’t twist the facts to your own personal bias.”

“My opinion has no place in the writing. If I wanted to do that I’d be writing OpEds or I could have stayed in the gossip columns where they wanted to keep me.” With both of your dinners finished, you nudge the empty container away and take your whiskey glass back in hand. Not necessarily to drink it, but for the comfort of holding it. “I’m sorry we didn’t talk like this weeks ago.”

“You didn’t like me.” He shrugs. “I don’t know if I would have liked me either, under the circumstances.” He snorts. “Hell, I barely like myself now.”

“I understand that feeling very well.” Your shrug matches his. “Maybe we’re every bit as alike as the girls said after all.”

“Look.” Javi leans back and searches his jeans pockets for his pack of cigarettes. “I’m not going to tell you we need to be together or whatever.” He pulls out the half-crushed pack and takes one, offering the pack to you. “You didn’t come down here to find love and I sure as hell didn’t.”

"But?" You prompt, hearing the word in his tone and accepting a cigarette gratefully. You always crave a smoke after a meal and it's nice to not have to explain that to the person you're eating with.

“But….” He takes a long drag off the cigarette and blows it out towards the ceiling. “It’s dangerous here for anyone going after Pablo.” He warns, glancing back at you. “There’s a bounty on my head.”

"It would be easy enough for anyone to think I'm going after him, too. My articles are about how Escobar is destroying the country and the people that he alleges he's fighting for." Sitting back in your seat, you take a matching drag of your own cigarette and exhale the smoke slowly afterward. "I'm not going to back off, if that's what you're implying."

“Didn’t think you would.” He admits. If the girls think you two are alike, then you would have a stubborn streak as wide as the Rio Grande.

"Alright." Trying not to sound as frustrated as you temporarily feel, you bring your head down and look forward at him again. "So I'm not going anywhere, and we've established that neither of us came here looking for some world-changing love story. Does that leave us as acquaintances? Friends? People who occasionally pass each other in the halls of the embassy and happen to share marks?"

“I don’t have those answers.” He admits, flicking the ashes into the empty take out container. “What’s your gut feeling?”

Without meaning to, you half-laugh and take another drag from your cigarette. "That we're both too stubborn," you admit on the exhale. "So we shouldn't decide anything, and just let life fall into place however it's going to."

He smirks slightly and tilts his head in acknowledgement. It’s a relief that you are on the same page he is. It makes the nagging guilt he’s had for wanting to see Vanessa and Freckles, subsequently why he’s stayed away, disappear. “So we sit on it.”

"Sit on it." There is a twist in your gut that is both guilt and relief. Not making it out to be more than just a fact of your lives is a relief, but the guilt that you maybe should hangs heavily on your shoulders. "Not bury it, and not shout about it. Just let it exist."

He lifts the rest of his drink in a salute before he tips it back. Swallowing it in one go and wondering why it doesn’t feel as good as it should.

******

Spending the night in the same guest room that you spent a week in while you were caring for Helena doesn't feel as odd as it could, but the intensity of knowing that your soulmate is sleeping right down the hall has you lying awake staring at the ceiling for more hours in the night than you would like to admit. It isn't until Chi-Chi leaves the doorway to climb into bed beside you that you find any sleep at all, but at least you can clock a few hours before sunrise starts to wake the block.

Javi rarely sleeps past five in the morning. Too acclimated to years on the ranch, needing to get up before school to feed livestock, clean out stalls or whatever his pop might need help with. Now it’s his body craving that cigarette he smokes as he takes that first, glorious piss of the day and then shuffles into the shower. Once he’s out, he realizes that he doesn’t have anything to do today, and it makes him ill, knowing he should already be raring to go to the scene – if he had even come home the night before. Now, he decides that maybe you’d might like some breakfast and he slips out of the apartment to run down to the market for some fresh fruits and see if Señora Rodriguez is selling those little pastries that he sometimes grabs.

Showering seems superfluous since you only have the same clothes to put on again afterward, but you go into the second bathroom you're accustomed to using to wash your face and wish you had your toothbrush. It's futile, but Javier was kind to let you stay last night when he didn't strictly have to. You'll go home and get out of his hair today if you can. The comfort lying low in your belly is knowing that the next time you run into him in the halls of the embassy, neither of you will flee or fight. For now all you can do is wander out to the kitchen, following the smell of coffee and cigarettes.

There are files spread on the kitchen table, a half-drunk cup of coffee and cigarette burning in the ashtray. He had waited to tear into the bag of pastries and fruit until you woke up and he’s proud of himself for that. He had even left a second coffee cup out for you to pour yourself a cup. “Morning.” He murmurs, still reading a CentraSpy report from two days ago.

"Morning." During the week of staying here you had paid attention only to Helena, and mostly hadn't even been speaking to Javier. So this sight is something of a surprise as you move to the coffee maker to pour yourself a cup. "You're an early riser."

“Raised on a ranch.” He glances up at you, watching your ass for a moment and trying to ignore the tug of lust in his belly before looking back down at the page. You didn’t want to hop into bed with him and he shouldn’t complicate things. “Mama would make you miss breakfast before you missed the bus for school.” He chuckles. “And your chores had better be done or you would get an earful when you got home.”

Small town. Texas. Sheriff's deputy. Ranch kid. The puzzle pieces of Javier Peña drop into place one by one. "Do you ever miss it?" You ask, bringing your coffee over to the table after you've fixed it. You don't mind sitting with your mug in your lap so he can keep his papers spread out everywhere. It's his space, after all.

He snorts. “If you had asked me that two years ago, I would have told you ‘fuck no’ so fast it would have knocked you over.” He reaches for his cup and sits back. “Now? It’s not as boring as I remember. Or maybe I’m just tired of the excitement of getting shot at here.”

"That's...fair, honestly." One half-glance at the papers around him tells you they're all about work, and you would be lying if you expressed any surprise at all. You're the same way. Always working, always composing in your head and stamping headlines on your life as you go about your day. "I bet even being a deputy would be a hell of a lot quieter than what you're doing now."

“Telling Mr. Johnson he can’t ride his fucking lawnmower to the liquor store. Cock blocking on the little lot where couples like to go to fuck.” He smirks. “Telling Mrs. Taylor that her husband was not abducted by aliens, he’s just a fucking prick. It was fucking cake.”

"Sounds like a retirement job." Not that you've really ever known anyone who retired. But it sounds like something that people say when they aren't raised scraping by every meal of every day. You're lucky as hell to be where you are now, and you know it.

“Yeah.” It was too boring for him at the time. That desire to do good and get the fuck out of town and away from the mess he caused with Lorraine, the DEA had come knocking and he couldn’t pack his bags fast enough.

"Maybe one day," you offer, going back to sipping your coffee.

"Maybe." He doubts it but he doesn't say that this job is dangerous enough that he will count his lucky stars if he gets out of Colombia alive.

"My Mom always says that if you don't think about what comes next, you'll give up on what's here right now." But he didn't ask for your family advice and you're not going to push it on him, so you offer him a small smile and reach for your first cigarette of the day. "Are you a breakfast person?"

"Been waiting on you." He nods towards the kitchen counter. "Picked those up this morning."

“You didn’t have to wait.” It’s sweet that he did, in a way that makes your chest tighten and think things you have to banish from your mind immediately, so instead you pop up from your chair and grab the bag to bring over to the table.

"Be rude to eat without you." He points out, taking another sip of his coffee.

“Is that that Southern hospitality I’ve heard so much about?” You set the bag down in the place he clears for it on the table and go back for two plates. Your cigarette is smoldering in the ashtray but you care less about that than whatever this morning patter is that the two of you have going. “We don’t have much of that where I’m from.”

"So why do you like it so much?" He asks, curious about your own history. "Where you're from."

“New Englanders are straightforward.” The bag has two arepas con huevos and two roscón — presumably one for each of you — and some assorted small cookies that are spiced and baked hard so they’re especially dunked in coffee. It’s a sweet gesture in more than one way, and you distribute the pastries evenly between you. “Everybody says what they mean, and sometimes they say shit things but then the same cranky ass old guys will turn around and give you the shirt off their back or the food off their table to help you.”

“You haven’t met many Texans, have you?” Javi snorts. “They are blunt, proud as fuck from being from Texas, but they also work together.” He shrugs. “Old man Sanchez had a heart attack in his field, crop of hay was going to go to ruin, so everyone met at his place and put up all the hay for winter for his herds while he was in the hospital.”

“Sounds like two groups cut from the same cloth.” Which is wholly a good thing in your book, and goes a big step to explain how you’re so similar coming from very different places. “You guys are the ranchers and we’re the fishermen.”

"Surf and turf." He chuckles slightly at his admittedly bad joke and shrugs. "We should open a restaurant."

“My father was a chef.” The morsel of information is offered up just like the food between you. “So it’s not a terrible idea.”

"Was?" He catches the phrasing and he wants to know more.

“He had a heart attack a couple a years ago.” Like you’re slipping into the memory, you stare at the pastry in your hand rather than at Javier. “Out on the fishing boat with my oldest brother. It was barely dawn and they had a haul to get in, so he ignored it. The second one he had, before dinner service that night, that’s what killed him.”

"I'm sorry." He really is. He knows how it squeezes your heart and doesn't let you breathe when you are swimming in grief so deep if feels like you are drowning. He sometimes thinks that it might have been because of his grief that he had ended up so lost in his relationship with Lorraine. He had been anchorless without his mother and she had swooped in and comforted him.

"Thank you." It means more coming from him because he knows exactly how much it hurts to lose a parent, giving you an odd and unwanted comradery in that way. "It's...pronounced. The things we have in common."

"Losing someone you love is shitty." He agrees.

"It does." You can agree to that wholeheartedly. So far these shared meals with Javier have been eye-opening, but not necessarily happy. The conversations tend to be more serious, which just might be the type of people you are. "I try not to let it overtake the other things, but it's not easy."

"Is that why you came to Colombia?" He asks, wondering if like him, you are running away. His own journey here had been a little longer, having to go through the academy and then his first post, but you are both here for a reason. "To escape?"

"Not consciously." Although now that he mentions it, there is a distinct possibility that that was an undercurrent in your decision making. "I fought for this assignment. My editor wanted somebody on the ground covering Escobar and I argued that every paper is reporting just on Escobar, but nobody is talking about the people in Colombia and how they're being affected by everything going on down here. How Escobar is ruining lives."

"It's a good angle" Javi shifts in his seat. "Some sing his praises, but they've never been touched by his violence."

"That was pretty much my point." And frankly, it's a comfort to know that it's coming across in your articles. "He might be doing good for some people on the surface here. Handing out money, claiming he's working for the people when he tries to run for office. But the fact is that he's hurting more than he's helping. And the hurt is spreading worldwide."

Javi snorts. "They don't fucking care though." He is bitter about that. "It's a fucking party favor to them. Something to experiment with and cut on a mirror in the big house that they are partying in. They don't see the fucking twelve-year-old overdosing on the street or the workers that have outlived their usefulness, rotting in the goddamn jungle."

"I know." You nod solemnly. "That's why I'm writing about it."

He watches you, his respect for you growing even more. After a moment, he nods. "Then it's a good thing you're here."

******

He wouldn't let you go back to your building alone. Something about wanting to make sure it was safe, but you couldn't really hear him over the blood pounding in your ears when he held open the door for you like some kind of fucking gentleman. Southern. You remind yourself, fully ready to reprimand your own stupidity into submission. It means nothing. It's just good manners.

But when he pulled up outside the club a half an hour later, you were suddenly very glad that he had insisted on coming with you. Chi-Chi growled low in the backseat, seeing so many men around the building, but you reached back and shushed her with some gentle pets that once again thanked her for somehow not spending all night making the same noise at Javier. The policemen outside were all busy and some of the club windows had been shot out, but all of it was taped off to prevent people from coming inside.

"Shit..." you murmur, sitting back in the passenger's seat as you slowly process the fact that you can't go home yet.

Javier frowns as he throws his Jeep into park. There's Steve, camera in his hands as he takes photos of a body laying outside the club. "Shit." He hisses, knowing there is no way he can poke around without being seen.

"Go around the block and park on the next street down," you tell him, annoyed that this day has taken an inconvenient turn. "I'll sneak in through the side door and grab some of my stuff. Enough to last me a few days at a hotel, at least." It was enough that you showed up at his place last night unannounced after having been there another week previous to that. You're not going to invade his space anymore.

He furrows his brow and shakes his head. "You don't have to stay in a hotel." He protests, not happy about you being in some hotel. Even if he's not got any right to tell you what to do. "Unless you'd rather have some space besides my guest room?"

"I don't mind your place." If you were being totally honest with him, not feeling isolated or alone is a lot better for you. Even with Inez in the next apartment over, living on your own had been lonely. "I just don't want to put you out."

"Because I spend so much time in my spare bedroom." He rolls his eyes at you sarcastically and frowns again. "Use it." He urges you. "You don't have to waste your money on a hotel." He shrugs, knowing that he sounds a little overprotective. "After all, it's because of my team that your apartment is now a crime scene."

"Why don't you and Chi-Chi stay in the car and I'll pack up some things quickly." If he's offering, you won't turn down a free place to stay. You'll do your part and keep the place clean so he barely recognizes you're even there except for putting a little food in his fridge now and then. "I guarantee my landlady is still with her son. I can drop our four-legged friend off to her later today."

"No." He shakes his head, knowing that someone could stop you from entering. Plus he can get a quick look to see if anyone important was taken out. "I'll come with you."

You raise one discerning eyebrow at him and motion to the backseat. "That means all three of us have to go in. You think you can sneak Scooby Doo's sister over here past all those cops?"

"Not going to sneak her in anywhere." Javi smirks and looks back at the dog. "She's going to go to work with me. Aren't ya, girl?"

For perhaps the first time in her life, Chi-Chi awoos softly for a man instead of for any of her usually preferred female companions.

"Well hell," you snort, shaking your head at both of them. "I guess that's a yes."

It takes a minute to get her out of the car and her leash unwound from her body. Then there are the two minutes that she has to sniff around the side door where she normally comes outside to pee and takes a squat while Javier smokes a cigarette.

It's ridiculous to watch, as the large and normally fearsome guard dog trots happily at Javier's side, but one intrusive thought breaks through the others and you snort under your breath in amusement as Chi-Chi indicates she's ready to go again. "I was right," you point out, smirking at Javier when you pull out your key to the building's back door. "All women really do roll over for you."

He rolls his eyes and huffs at you. Pursing his lips and murmuring a curse. "Shut up." He manages, although it's not exactly vehement. "Do you want me to come up with you?" He doubts anyone has ventured upstairs, but he doesn't want you to be uncomfortable.

"Might as well," you nod toward the stairs, letting the warmth of friendly teasing instead of annoyed barbs warm through you. "My living room has that good view of the front of the building and approaching street that you knew Alex was using."

"We were watching to club." Javier admits. "Saw the fucker there. The bartender giving him your note."

"I kind of figured." Climbing the stairs quickly, you reach your floor as quietly as you can and turn back to make sure you don't lose Javier on the stairs. "Otherwise how could you have actually gotten the note? It's not like the CIA and DEA cooperate. Even I know that."

He smirks, not at all embarrassed about stealing that fucker's note. "For a spook, he's shit at keeping track of things." He huffs.

"He was probably distracted." At your door, you scratch Chi-Chi's head and fit your key in the lock to shove it open. "I've been thinking about it ever since you pointed it out, and I think he went in with the intention of actually hitting on Inez."

"And he found you instead?" He asks, wondering what you saw in that schmuck. Granted he was tall, blonde, classically handsome. Everything he was not. Maybe your preference was completely different than the soulmate the universe gave you.

Pushing into your apartment, you shrug sheepishly and drop your purse on the table by the door to let him in behind you. "I was lonely," you admit, not feeling particularly proud about it.

"That happens." He knows that firsthand. He looks around the apartment curiously, eager to get an inside view of your life.

"I'll grab some clothes and stuff. Chi-Chi's allowed on my furniture, so she'll probably go sit on the couch if you let her off leash." He'll poke and prod. That's fine with you. It's what you would do if you were him – yet another similarity between you to note.

"Take your time." He moves over to the window and looks out, a little irritated that it was indeed a good fucking view. Pissed that he hadn't thought of that before Alex had.

You disappear into your room, glad that you had just done a big load of laundry after returning from Javier's place the first time and that you had neatly put everything away. It made it a hell of a lot easier to simply remove stacks of clothes from your dresser and pile them up in the one small suitcase you had arrived to Colombia with. After having been here for a little while you had accumulated a few more things, but most of them can just stay put. Your toiletries go into a bag to be packed away, and your work has its own tote bag. At least your typewriter was already packed up in its case. That saves you some time.

Your space is neat, not too many personal things, although he picks up a framed photo of what must be your family. “Nice looking family.” He murmurs to himself, the photo obviously taken before your father passed.

"My parents' thirtieth wedding anniversary," you tell him, knowing what photo he's looking at. "My Mom, my two older brothers, then me and my Dad. We're all dressed up because my aunt and uncle insisted on throwing them an anniversary party."

“It’s nice.” You look happy, beaming from the photo. “Soulmates?”

"Yeah." When you come out of your room, you're toting a full suitcase and heading for your work things on the coffee table. "They met at the beach. My Mom was out with her girlfriends one day when she was twenty and they started catcalling this group of guys down the other side of the sand." The memory of the story makes you crack a smile. "Reverse of the usual situation, but my mother isn't a shy woman. We used to go back to that beach every single summer. Usually three or four times a summer if we could manage it between everybody's work and sports and camp and everything else."

He laughs at the mental image and smirks. “Most men actually like it when a woman hits on them.” He agrees. “It’s nice to be chased every now and again.”

"Yeah..." It makes your cheeks burn to remember the times in your life you've attempted it – and how the one time it didn't go terribly wrong it was a CIA douchebag who didn't even reciprocate your interest in any real way. "I guess I just...never understood a lot of it. But my Mom is drop dead gorgeous even after three kids, so more power to her, I guess."

Javi studies the picture again. “Yeah, you look just like her.” He murmurs offhand.

“Except…not.” You wave one hand at yourself and shake your head, going back to stuffing your work things into their tote bag.

He frowns down at the picture sighs, not liking that you just wave off his compliment. But you aren’t really his problem to tackle. “I’m going to go downstairs.” He calls out.

“I’ll be down in a few.” Seeing that it’s flashing, you push the button on your answering machine to listen to your message while you get the last of your things squared away.

Javi reclips the leash and hurries down the stairs as Chi-Chi half drags him down. Chuckling to himself when the large dog growls softly at the crunch of glass under boots. "It's okay, girl." he soothes when he is standing by her in the small hallway that connects the apartments to the club.

“Hi mija.” The message is from your landlady, who sounds tired and shaken. “I am sorry for the short notice, but if you are listening to this you will know that the police have control of our building. We cannot return until they release it, and since you were kind enough to take Chi-Chi – thank you for your call otherwise I would have worried – mijita I am too old to be running that place anymore. I’m selling it, honey, I’m sorry. If you need help finding a new place to live, let me know. I will give you a wonderful reference. Call me at my son’s when you get this.”

“Fuck.” You groan out loud, looking around you and realizing that you need to pack up more than just a few days’ worth of things. It’s going to take you a hell of a lot more than a few minutes to get this all squared away, but there’s nothing you can do about that.

Almost a full half hour later you’re dragging things downstairs, including a plastic container of Chi-Chi’s food and treats, and a bag of her toys along with all your own stuff. “Bad news,” you tell Javier, when he looks at you with confusion.

"Are you moving in?" Javi half jokes, half wonders what the hell you had in the bags. It looks like a hell of a lot more than what you had brought when you were taking care of Helena.

“My landlady got spooked by the cops and all the agents crawling everywhere and she’s selling the building. I’m gonna have to find a new place.” It makes you wonder where the hell Inez is going to go since this place was her home and her work, but you’ll call her later to check in. After you call Señora Perrín about getting back this month’s rent since you haven’t even been in the place for more than a few days this month. “I’ll call her tonight about returning Chi-Chi to her and I’ll get out of your hair as soon as I can. I’m sure the last thing you want is roommates.”

It's a surprise, Javi sighing and looking around the area. "Shit." He hisses. "I'm sorry." He is. Feeling like this is also his fault. Maybe if he had been involved with the SearchBloc raid, there might have been less bloodshed.

“It’s not your fault.” He’s the last person you blame. After all, he wasn’t here last night. His partner might get a piece of your mind, though. “Guess I just became fodder for my own column.”

He snorts. "Another victim." He agrees. "This time because of us instead of Escobar." He doesn't tell you that you can just live with him. That would be too much. For both of you.

“We should get out of here.” It feels intrusive to be here now, but it feels intrusive to know you’re now going back to his apartment with no idea of when you’ll be able to leave. The whole thing is uncomfortable and grating and you don’t like not knowing what the next step is.

"Is that all you have?" He moves to take some of the bags from you, happy that he has a vehicle that can hold more than the little box car you drive. That thing is a rolling hazard.

“In this country?” You nod, reluctantly letting him take some things from your arms. “It was a furnished apartment, that’s why I took the place. This is all my shit, plus some things for Bogotá’s best guard doggy.”

"Okay." He nods and moves to the door, pushing outside to hold the door opened for you. "Then let’s get you back to the apartment so you can get settled."

“Javier, I—” He doesn’t question it. Doesn’t hem or haw. Doesn’t even hesitate. And suddenly your father’s favorite words of wisdom float to the top of your mind, about how your soulmate comes into your life when you need them most. You have no idea how true that is, Dad.

“Thank you,” you say finally, offering him a grateful smile.

Javi nods, always having a hard time accepting thanks and whistles for Chi-Chi to stop sniffing the side of the building when you walk out. "We'll stop at the market on the way home." He offers. "I know you'd rather have some food in the fridge."

“That will work.” Loading up the car together, you get Chi-Chi settled and give her a treat for being so good. Somewhere in the back of your mind you fear there is a strong possibility of her spending at least one more night with you so you would prefer her to be happy. Once everything is inside and you’re buckling your seatbelts, you turn to look at Javier again. “Give it some thought and let me know what you think a fair number for rent would be. Since I’m basically subletting your guest room now, until I find a new place.”

Javi grunts, knowing that he won't take money for you using his room. He's not that kind of person and he already pays well below market value for his apartment. Instead, he starts the Jeep and throws it into gear. He had managed to get an overall view of the scene, so he's happy. "You know what we need to get?"

“At the market? Yeah.” There are a good handful of meals you can make easily and well, and those ingredients aren’t hard to come by. But as the child of a career cook, you know your way around a kitchen. At least you can cook some decent meals for Javier as a thank you.

"Sorry I don't keep much there." He huffs. "Honestly, I'm not home much."

“Don’t worry about it. Youngest kid of a chef, remember?” That grateful smile still tugs at your lips. “I do about half my work at home and I’m a fair cook.”

He nods, not as upset about you staying as he ever imagined he would be. He had resisted living with Lorraine before the wedding and he's never actually had a roommate unless his parents counted, which they didn't. If he wanted to go see Freckles or Vanessa, he would just go to them, but maybe he would find another girl.

One that you hadn't also slept with.

______

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[thedeviltohisangel]

All The Things I Did (5): I Hope I Don't Lose You

a/n: THE SEXUAL TENSION IS PARTIALLY BROKEN. let us all rejoice! light smut ahead but so worth it for these two to finally make each other cum, okay? this should mean inbox is open for sexy times discussions. i promise cass will let john love her soon, she is just scared, ok? they have their first fight but we will survive. standing by to chat//accept blurbs and asks and prompts. love you guys xoxo

warnings: smut

Cass was at a table in the corner of the social club when John and Curt entered. She had skipped out on interrogation, more curious about the envelope Mary had said had come for her marked as urgent from Washington. In it was the identity of the new Commanding Officer for the 100th Bomber Group, slated to arrive the next day. It was none other than Colonel Chick Harding. 

She had met Chick Harding in London on her way to Thorpe Abbotts. Her first test as a field officer was to conduct a suitability assessment of a RAF officer one of her colleagues at the embassy was hoping to turn into a source. Cass had been making great progress, her nerves fading the longer she realized she was good at this, when Colonel Harding had made his presence known. 

Since she was a teenager, Cass was used to men of all ages flirting with her. Remarking on her dress or her hair or her smile. It always made her feel icky but her older sister told her it was the price for being pretty. Harding had flirted with her, hadn’t tried to hide it, but it was different. Not forceful. Not relentless. Not like he was trying to use his rank to convince her of a certain outcome. After the circumstances under which she had left South Carolina, the attention had been welcome. Reminded her she wasn’t soiled goods. She knew it couldn’t be more than that and was on her way to her flat for the night when the Colonel had slipped a piece of paper into her hand. It made her laugh, the instructions on where she would be able to find him after the party. She hadn’t used them but they had made her feel giddy. And now it looked like Colonel Harding was set to become a more permanent presence in her life. 

“You’re looking particularly pensive tonight.” She looked up from the packet at the sound of John’s voice, a glass bottle of Coke placed in front of her and two rocks glasses of whiskey placed across from her. 

“Huglin’s been relieved of his command. Just reading some background on the new Colonel.” He pressed a thumb to the crease between her eyebrows to smooth it out. 

“No talk of work,” he muttered as he leaned in for a kiss. She obliged him gently and let him pull her off the chair. “You know I love this song.” 

“You love every song,” she giggled as he led her into a spin. He caught her against his chest and shared in her laugh.

“With you as my partner, how couldn’t I?” Their lips met halfway and he lifted her slightly to save the strain of going on her tippy toes. “I always ask you to dance but somehow we always get distracted from the actual dancing.”

“I’ve been told I have that effect on people. Handsome men in particular.” 

“Ah, you talk to a lot of handsome men recently?” He dropped her into a dip playfully. 

“I’m surrounded by them but one in particular…one in particular has caught my eye.” Her forehead rested against the side of the neck as he pulled her back up. 

“Tell me about him.”

“He’s one of the most intelligent men I’ve ever met. Has this little curl that falls onto his forehead that drives me crazy. Says things he means and makes me feel…,” she swallowed thickly and John nodded. He was giving her permission to say it. Validating that it was true. “Loved.” The sound of the band and the bartender pouring drinks and the white noise of conversation faded into the sound of her heart beating in her ears.

“Cass,” he started, ready to say those three words. Once and for all get them off his chest and into the atmosphere. Relieve himself of the burden of knowledge and hopefully accept hers in return.

“Not yet.” He froze and took a step back at her words. “I know you tried the other night and I just opened the door again but not yet.” Not when the other paper in that folder had said what they had. That she was selected for an operation into Berlin. An operation that had been unsuccessful three previous times. An operation where the last agent had come home draped in an American flag.

“Right. You say all those things and I’m just supposed to keep suffocating on my own words.” He backed away from her, Cass not used to this sense of dread in her chest. “You know, emotions aren’t inherently dangerous. You’re allowed to have them, Lieutenant.” She almost recoiled from the use of her rank. He downed his two previous glasses with ease and moved towards the bar to refill them.

“John, it’s for good reason. Trust me,” she pleaded as she reached for his arm. 

“I’m sure it’s too classified for someone like me. I’m not worth the risk, right?” 

“What? I’ve brought you in as much as I could! Shared everything with you-” One more glass of whiskey went down his throat. “You were the one I asked for when I got off that plane. The one I reached for because I knew you would make me feel safe.” A single tear rolled down her cheek and she wiped it away with anger. Another whiskey as he clenched his fist at the memory. 

“That feeling I had running towards you. That feeling I had when that son of a bitch got in the way of reaching you.” He brought her hand to rest flat against his chest. “The way I felt when you told me I was yours. That is what is trapped in here, Cass. That is what you aren’t letting me express to you.”

“If you do, and something happens to me, I’ll never forgive myself.” John was Air Exec. He’d be safe on the ground, in a control tower, locked away in an office to wait out this war. He had an after. Cass wasn’t so sure she was guaranteed the same. 

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“I got my next field assignment.” She didn’t elaborate any further but he thinks he was reading the implications behind her eyes. 

“When do you leave?” he relented. He regretted spending even a second angry with her now. Regretted being the cause of her tears. Wanted to spend the rest of the night apologizing. 

“Soon. They are sending me with a partner for this one, waiting for his arrival.” Cass hugged her arms around herself. She felt cold. Something missing between her and John that had been there earlier in the night. A distance between them she wasn’t used to and didn’t like.

“You going to say goodbye this time?” His fingers twitched to reach out and touch her but it felt wrong. Like the tether between them had snapped and needed more than the setting had to offer to fix it. 

“Never goodbye. A see you soon.” John looked up at the ceiling with a pitiful laugh. 

“Fuck, Cass, what are we going to do? A flyboy and a spook. We make quite the pair, don’t we?”

“I vaguely remember asking if you were a hotshot the first time I met you.”

“Only one of us has ended up in the medical wing.” Cass snorted and looked away from his analytical gaze. “I’m sorry.” There was a lot left unsaid but it was a start. She opened her mouth to respond when Curt’s voice echoed across the bar.

“Bucky! Round on me, let’s go!” 

“I’ll be over in a minute!” He wanted to fix things first. Get back to where they were at the beginning of the night.

“Go. I’ll catch up with you later.” She was reminded that the 100th had lost more than a few men that day and they were there to mourn them in the first place.

“You sure?” She nodded, John leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. Cass gripped his chin before he could pull away.

“Kiss me properly, Major.” He grinned wickedly, his heart returning to it’s normal rhythm, surging forward to oblige her request. It was hungry and all consuming, frantic and frenzied. John pushed her hair over her shoulder to get a better grip around her cheek and groaned as her hands slid up the front of his chest with a deliberately slow pace. They only separated when the whistles pierced through the veil, John going back in for one, two, three more pecks to her lips before he fully pulled away. 

“Does that work?” Her lip slipped between her teeth and she nodded.

“Until later.” His knuckles brushed against her cheek longingly before he disappeared to the other end of the bar with his men. Cass grabbed her folder from the table and disappeared out the back door, ready to retire for the night. A couple hours of sleep would do her and emotionless heart some good.

----

She woke before the sun, the look in John’s eyes seared into her memory. Maybe it wasn’t worth trying to stop him from saying he loved her anymore. Maybe her worry about breaking his heart was misplaced. Cass thinks he would be strong enough to handle it. The longer he was out here, the better he would get at compartmentalizing his emotions. The losses for the 100th had only just begun. She didn’t know how she was supposed to watch him wear them. 

Cass needed some fucking air. Hopeful the cold would shock her back into her usual, even keeled self, she slipped her silk robe over her nightgown and stuck her feet into her boots before finding her way outside. She wasn’t surprised to hear voices, assuming Lemmons and his men were up early to work on the planes, but she recognized them with a furrowed brow as she got closer and two figures on top of the plane came into focus. Clearly it had ended up being more than one round. 

“Do you feel anything?” That was John. He was holding a bottle of whiskey and his uniform jacket was billowing in the breeze.

“Yeah, I miss those guys,” Curt responded.

“I don’t feel a thing anymore. Unless I’m with Spook.” He smiled wistfully. “With her, I feel everything.”

“She’s good for you. She’s keeping you sane out here.”

“Driving me insane more like it.” He needed to snap out of it. “Can you do me a favor?”

“What?”

“I want you to hit me. I want you to land one right on my beak.” She considered stepping in but was curious to see this play out.

“Major-”

“Don’t give me ‘Major.’” He threw his jacket to the ground. “Ranks off.”

“Stop horsing around.”

“Horsing around? I’m not a horse.” Cass watched him goad and goad Curt until his fist snapped forward and John’s hands flew to his nose.

“Bet you felt that.” She emerged from her hiding spot behind the tail of the plane and John smiled. 

“Lieutenant Cooper, can I trust him in your hands for the rest of the night?” Curt hopped down from the wing as she nodded. A kiss on his cheek as a thank you and he was off to try and catch a few moments of sleep. 

“Baby, come up here.” He moved to the edge and gripped under her arms, lifting her onto the wing of the plane with an ease that had her feeling warm in the cool early morning air. “What’re you doing out here?” John nuzzled his nose against hers lovingly. It had only been a few hours but he had missed her.

“Going for a walk when I heard a couple of hooligans and decided to check it out in spite of my best judgment.”

“This hooligan never got the chance to properly apologize to you earlier.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” Her hands rested against his chest and she looked up at him with adoration. “I shouldn’t have shut you down. Losing you scares me more than I know how to say and I’m not used to being scared.” Or used to being in love for that matter.

“My little Spook,” he traced his thumb along her bottom lip, “you don’t have to have your armor up around me.”

“I’m working on it. Just have to be patient with me.” Cass welcomed his kiss and recognized the pleasant ache that was settling between her legs. This man was making her feel things no other had in more ways than one.

“You take all the time you need. I’ll be here.” Call it the effects of alcohol or lack of sleep but John was feeling weightless. Like if he didn’t have her right then and there, he’d float away. “We’ll figure it out together.”

Testing the waters, she undid the knot of his tie. He watched in a daze as his mind tried to catch up with what he thinks she was asking. She tossed it in the same direction he had thrown his jacket. 

“John,” she cooed as his mouth watered at her robe slipping off one of her shoulders. “I need you.” 

“Tell me where you need me.” Her frustrated groan was swallowed by his kiss, his hands slipping from the small of her back to grab at her ass, his lips moving to latch onto her neck with the goal of leaving a mark. 

“Need you everywhere,” she gasped as his tongue soothed over the blossoming accessory he had added to her throat. Cass moved his hand to the hem of her night gown and guided it up and up until his fingertips met her hip bones. He moaned into her kiss as his fingertips teased along the top band of her underwear, tracing down the front of them until he found the spot that made her hips buck.

“Ah, right there?” John removed his hand and caught her as she collapsed into his chest. “I’m going to take care of you, baby, promise. Just not out here.” He jumped down from the wing, reaching to lift her down after him. As soon as her feet hit the ground, her lips were back on his and her fingers were undoing the buttons of his shirt.

“When I said be patient with me I didn’t mean at a glacial pace,” she quipped. He laughed, one thumb stroking over her pulse point in her neck and the other hand pushing her robe off her arms the rest of the way.

“You know how to climb into a B-17 or do you need a hand?”

“I think I’ve made it very clear I need your hand.” She stepped towards the open hatch and gripped the edge before tucking her feet in line with her head and landing in the hull. John can’t deny he got a little harder at the sight. He followed suit and welcomed her into his lap with no reservations now that they were away from any potential prying eyes. 

“A dream come fucking true,” he whispered as she stradled him and he got a good look at her. Chest flushed. Hair wild. Nightgown strap slipping down her arm. John hooked a finger under it and slowly helped it the rest of the way, goosebumps sparking on her breasts as they were exposed to his gaze. “Beautiful.” His lips latched around one nipple, her breath catching and back arching to press further into his touch. 

“That feels good.” Her voice had an edge to it that drove him wild. His tongue was soft as it lavished against her and her blood rushed between her legs at the thought of what it would feel like there. Where she needed him the most. John hummed as they popped out of his mouth like a lollipop. 

“Been dreaming about having you like this,” he whispered as she nipped at his bottom lip. “Dreaming about what was under that lace in your office that day. About the sounds you make when I kiss you…right…here,” his lips attaching to the spot on her throat in question and the moans that gave him a reason to live were music to his ears. And he hadn’t even gotten her sleepwear off yet.

“What else have we been doing in your dreams?” she asked as they kissed languidly. John pressed forward until she was laid gently on her back and her knees fell to the side to accommodate him. He shrugged off his button up and lifted his undershirt over his head, Cass sitting up to kiss across his chest before using his dog tags to pull him back down with her. 

“Going to take more than one night to show you.”

“Good,” she smiled sweetly in direct contrast to the sinful state she was in, “I was hoping to keep you around for a little while.” He started at her lips and worked his way down to gently tug her nipples with his teeth before bunching her nightgown at her waist and settling where he had left off on the wing of the plane.

“You always sleep in these delicate, little things?” Of course John had thought about ravishing her. Thought about what she would look like in a thin, silk nightgown in the moonlight. Thought about what might be underneath it. If anything. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He would. Desperately. But he settled for kissing the skin where it met the lace, Cass squirming at the affection. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” he asked without looking up. The tip of his nose found the spot from earlier, a smirk lighting his face.

“Fuck, John, yes. Yes, I always dress up for bed.” There was something domestic about the notion that tickled a satisfying corner of his soul. He liked learning the nooks and crannies of her. Liked the idea of getting to know her routines and habits. Of learning how to merge their lives together.

“I like that. Easy to see how wet you are.” John pressed his thumb to the front of her panties and circled slowly and gently. “Look at me.” Cass propped herself onto her elbows and reached to push the curl that had fallen onto his forehead back into its place. 

“I’m looking and I like what I see.” Flushed and drunk on love, John Egan looked like he was exactly where he belonged. He pressed harder with a cheshire cat grin as her head dropped back.

“I like what I see too, gorgeous.” The lace slid down her legs slowly and his lips followed down, the undergarment over his shoulder and forgotten, then back up so no inch of her skin was left untouched. 

“John Egan, an attentive lover,” she teased. 

“Only for you.” Only for the girl he was in love with. Thinks he loved her the moment he saw her. Knew he would love her forever. “Are you going to behave?”

“Not if you make me wait-” Her words faded into a sigh as he finally flicked his tongue against her. His hands hooked over her thighs, he spread her open as he coaxed sounds of heaven from her mouth and a sensual writhing of her hips. 

“Taste like a fucking goddess,” he groaned, dipping a finger into her as her breaths came quicker. 

“John.” God, he could fucking die at the sound of his name coming out of her mouth like that. A second finger. “Fuck.”

“You going to cum for me?” He rested his cheek against her thigh and admired the view. He wanted to sear this moment into his memory. The moment he saw her with no walls. Completely vulnerable. Trusting him with seeing her like this. This version of her was the one he was fighting for. The one he would die for.

“Only for you,” she said, echoing his earlier statement. Promising he was the only one who would be with her in this way. Promising a forever of nights like this. John understood the sentiment as it settled in his chest. 

“My pretty, pretty girl,” he cooed before his lips closed around her clit and pushed her over the edge. His hands pressed down on her hips to keep her from escaping his mouth as she came with a call of his name and a tug of his hair. She shivered as he kissed the insider of her thigh, between her breasts and onto her lips. “Did so good, baby.”

“Who would’ve thought. A flyboy and a spook.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief as her hand moved towards his belt buckle, his hand on her wrist stopping her.

“Who said I was done with you?” And if Cass called his name into the night a few more times before the sun rose, that was between them and the moon. And if John learned her tongue could charm a sinful symphony from his lips, that was between them and the stars. And if Ken Lemmons stumbled upon their discarded clothes and folded them neatly by the wheel while they slept in each other’s arms, only the sun and the clouds needed to know. And if John woke before her and held her tighter and kissed her forehead with a promise and a prayer, a promise to protect her and love her and a prayer that he would have the opportunity to do so, well that was between him and the man upstairs. John Egan just hoped He was listening.

[fandomscompilation]

Black roses (Kaz Brekker x Reader)

Fandom: Six of Crows

Pairing: slight Kaz Brekker x Reader

Warnings: mentions of cheating (?)

A/N: Hi everyone! I'm so sorry for not posting for so long and not continuing on the two series I had going on. I lost inspiration for both works, seeing them as a copy of the show and not my own work. But no worries, I'm back to writing and plan on letting new parts out soon! But in the meantime enjoy a little one shot and maybe there'll be more to come during the wait! Let me know what you think and remember my requests are open 🫶🏻

Gif is not mine!

Once a month pigeons flocked to the Crow Club, even Ketterdams citizens went to play The Pure Luck. The game was led by a young woman. Her shuffling didn't allow anyone to count the cards, for she had her own chaotic ways. Some believed even she didn't know what would be dealt. Others believed she was so deciving that nobody suspected anything. But no matter the rumors and theories people still crowded her table.

The thing was not everyone was allowed to play at her table. She chose those that could sit down and have a chance at luck. She lured people in with her charm. Her easygoing nature allowing players to relax and enjoy their night. The table was always full of jokes, banter and laughter. It was a sight to see.

"It seems you're out of money, Sir." The girl smiled at the man across from her. There were only three players left. It was their last chance at winning and this man was desperate to have his money back at least.

"Two cards." He said throwing them to her for a change. She looked to the table before meeting his gaze again.

"Two secrets. Are you willing to pay the prize?" Her innocent voice reached his ears and after a small huff the man nodded to the cards thrown. She shuffled her cards quickly and put down the first one.

Nothing escaped her eyes. He was sweating, his lips twitched almost unnoticeably. But she trained herself to notice those minimalistic changes. After all he was playing her game now.

"Still a chance to back down, sir." He met her eyes only to nod again.

"The second one." He said looking at her hands. She shuffled the deck again and put down another card. The man frowned before showing his cards. He lost.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner. Congratulations Mrs. Frederick, you can collect your special prize at the bar." They all shook hands before she led the man to the back room.

It was just a small storage converted into lookalike office. One desk, two chairs. "Two secrets sir."

The night life at the club continued while the two talked. For anyone from the outside it was a regular occurrence, but for those that knew it was crucial. For the girl was not a normal dealer of cards. Each month she would collect secrets and unbeknownst to others she'd then meet with Dirtyhands himself.

When he entered his office she was already in front of his desk, shuffling her black deck of cards. He circled the desk and took his sit while she kept her eyes on the cards.

"He's been having an affair, three years." Her soft voice filled the silence. He only hummed starting at his own work. "It started after him and his wife couldn't start a family. So he found someone else. A man."

"And why is it important?" He asked making her put down the cards.

"Because he works at the Ravkan embassy and he got the job thanks to his father." She put down her deck and leaned back in her chair. "If one would learn of his meetings and accidentally send one of Ravkan's aristocracy to see, then his father would learn the truth and take away his position."

"Why would one open a seat at their embassy?" Kaz asked meeting her eyes. She smiled lightly with a plan already made.

"He had an ultimatum. If he marries then the job is his. But-" She leaned in closer to him. "he has a younger brother. One that enjoys life and could be easily manipulated. He would fit in just well in our city."

"And what about Mrs. Frederick?" Brekker asked going back to his work. She shrugged going back to her shuffling.

"Her son is getting divorced due to him falling in love with another woman. One that works at one of the clubs." She said lightly but still risked a glance at him. And she was right to do so, cause his jaw twitched.

"Really?" Kaz drawled scribbling even harder now.

"Well, he's head over heels for her. Mrs. Frederick said he plans on bringing her flowers tomorrow for it's the day he'll be legally divorced." She wasn't ignorant enough to not realise it was her, who the man loved. But she also knew his nature. The man was known to have affairs and to think with his manhood more than his brain.

"Not an important secret." Brekker said before sending her off. She went straight to her room, just one floor lower and sleep soon caught up to her.

The next day she spend on the Crow Club's floor. She didn't deal that night, but she still played few games and talked with frequent visitors. People loved her company for she gave them a sense of calm and security in a twisted place.

It was noon when Mrs. Frederick son, Joseph, entered the Club. He was in a formal attire with a bouquet of red roses in his hand. The Crows watched how he scanned the floors and his face broke out into a wide smile upon noticing Y/N. She was enjoying her drink with Inej and Jesper during one of the rare quiet moments.

"I hope I'm not interrupting." The man said stopping only a step away from her. She twisted her body to face him and gave a light smile.

"Of course not. Are you looking for someone?" She questioned softly and as innocent as she could. After her talk with his mother she hoped he would not approach her in the open, but she was wrong yet again.

"I'm actually here for you." He said still smiling oblivious to her discomfort. "And those are for you too." Joseph handed her the bouquet.

She looked from his face to the flowers. The bouquet looked quiet expensive for a city like Ketterdam. But no matter the prize she didn't want to give the man false hope if she accepted the gift. She was aware of his affection but for her he was only a player at her table, a man with secrets she could use.

"That's really kind of you, Joseph." She started lightly and breathed deeply. But before she could decline a cane met his elbow making Joseph retract his arm.

"Red roses, really?" Kaz drowled glaring at the flowers like they had pricked him already.

"I'm sorry?" The man frowned straightening up. The three Crows looked between the both of them in shock and confusion. Kaz Brekker was acting possessive and it was not a daily occurrence.

"You talk about your affection openly and yet you don't know that Y/N prefers black flowers." He said already sporting a look of a winner. He was confident in his knowledge about the girl and her likes.

"Why would the colour matter? It's about the gesture." Joseph argued looking back to Y/N in hopes of continuing their conversation. But yet again Brekker spoke up.

"I was trying to be nice. If you won't stop harassing one of my workers I will remove you from my Club." His words were now spoke in the harsh tone that was associated with one and only Dirtyhands.

"You have no right to do that." The man huffed going back to smile at Y/N. "She wants me here." The silence that followed was full of tension. Both man turned to look at her in expectation. Either she'd make Joseph be removed or accept his gift and let whatever this was continue. Her eyes went from the roses to Kaz who calmly met her gaze.

"I'm not a fan of red." Her soft voice broke the silence. Joseph tightened his jaw in anger, while Kaz gave a slight smirk. In moments few Dregs had the man removed while the Crows watched.

"Enjoy the rest of your evening, we've got a job tomorrow." Brekker said heading back to his office. They sat confused before Y/N sprang to her feet and ran after him.

She barged into his office just to have him waiting with two glasses of wine. He was not a fan of wine. Neither did he like flowers in his office, but there, on the side of his desk was a bouquet of black roses. They eyes met only for a moment. But it was enough to make her sit down in front of him and enjoy the drink in silence, while he worked and she smelled the flowers.

[psyphigirl]

How to play Caravan (New Vegas)

While I was tryin to learn how to play Caravan I saw loads of guides were just explaining the win conditions and not the actual rules or controls. So this post'll explain everything about caravan from top to bottom. (The only reason to play Caravan is for the two achievements, win three times and win thirty times; I don't find it very fun, not the fastest way of making money, and has no bearing on any plot.)

Getting the Cards

The only way to get the Caravan Deck is from Ringo after completing Ghost Town Gunfight (or looting it off his body). You don't need this, but it gives you the minimum number of cards you need to play. If you don't take it you'll have to manually find enough cards for Caravan to be available for you You can get cards from vendors and merchants (~two caps per). Keep an eye out for 6's, 8's, 10's, and Kings (The strat I'll describe needs those cards). You can have multiple copies of the same card (i.e. more than one 6 of Spades)

I got the most cards from Lacey (the bartender) at the Mojave Outpost (anywhere from three to eight). Buy the cards you need and wait three days for her to restock. There's a semi-rare bug where she'll sell two of the exact same card (i.e. two Ultra Luxe 8 of Hearts): Buying both'll crash the game

Sierra Madre Cards

If you have Dead Money installed you can find additional cards for Caravan in and around the Sierra Madre. Below is all the cards you can find and where they are:

8 of Clubs - Sierra Madre Casino & Resort (Cantina Madrid): On the floor in front of a file cabinet to the right of the Cafe Madrid terminal and restaurant manager desk. King of Clubs - Medical District: Inside a 2nd floor room with an active electric hot plate, north of the Villa clinic and above a ground level cafe sign directly west across a courtyard from the room containing the 6 of Diamonds, on a round table in the northeast corner. 6 of Diamonds - Medical District: Inside a 2nd floor room northeast of the Villa clinic and directly east across a courtyard from the room containing the King of Clubs, on a wooden shelf in the southwest corner behind an orange chair. 10 of Hearts - Villa: Some distance north of the Villa police station and west of the room containing the 5 of Hearts, on the interior corner of a walkway to the southeast of a wall fountain. Going from the 5 of Hearts, out the door with a wall fountain, down the stairs, in the corner of the interior walkway on the left. 6 of Spades - Salida del Sol North: In the northwest corner of a small courtyard with three bear traps and a dead tree, on the ground between a wall and three pipes, just west of the stairs leading to a room containing Dean's Secret Stash, a radio and two pool tables. 8 of Spades - Villa police station: In the northwest corner of the cell Dog is located in.

Who can I play with?

You're never explicitly told who you can play with, you just have to ask around. Here's the full list; Limited: You can only play with them five times and then never again Restricted: You have to have good rep with their faction to play

Cliff Briscoe - Dino Bite gift shop - Limited Dale Barton - The Fort - Restricted Dennis Crocker - NCR Embassy Isaac - Gun Runners Jake Erwin - NCR Embassy Johnson Nash - Primm - Limited Jules - North Vegas Square Keith - Aerotech suite Lacey - Mojave Outpost - Limited Little Buster - Camp McCarran Q.Master Mayes - Camp Forlorn Hope - Limited - Restricted No-bark Noonan - Novac Ringo - Goodsprings/Crimson Caravan Camp Jed Masterson - Northern passage - Only available with Honest Hearts

Johnson Nash uses more face cards than other players which can break the strat I'll describe later. No-bark Noonan is the easiest to play against

Building your Deck

After offering to play with someone, and after setting your bet, you'll be shown two long rows of cards. The top row is the deck you'll play with in the game, the bottom row is the cards you won't be using

Use your arrow keys to move left and right, pressing W to add a card to your deck and A to remove it. Only select your 6's, 8's, 10's, and Kings. If you don't have enough of these to reach the 30 card minimum, add some Jacks or Queens. After that press F to play

The Controls

The descriptors of the controls listed along the bottom right can be a little vague or misleading, here's a better explanation;

Arrow keys to highlight a card in your available hand (these will be the cards revealed to you in a fan) W to select a card Q to discard a card (counts as a full turn) If you select a card and want to deselect it, press R. With no card selected, R is the forfeit button E lets you completely discard a caravan you've built

When you select a card it will move to the left side of the screen. This is where the game is played. Use the arrow keys to place your selected card in one of the six sections available (these are the caravans)

Number Cards and Face Cards

Ace - Value of 1 Number Cards - Value of 2-10

You can play face cards on your caravans or your opponents caravans, and they can do the same to you

Jack - When played on an Ace/Number Card, removes that card along with any card attached to it Queen - When played on an Ace/Number Card, supposedly reverses the direction of hand and changes suit of the hand. I'm not sure if it's just my game being buggy or if I'm using them wrong, but Queen cards don't seem to do anything for me. I use Queens as null cards: Just something to fill up my deck. If you know what they actually do I'll add a proper explanation here. King - When played on an Ace/Number card, doubles the value of that card. Multiple Kings can be attached to the same card Joker - When played on an Ace, removes all other non-face cards of the ace's suit from the table (except that card) When played on a Number Card, removes all other cards of that value from the table (except that card) You can place multiple Jokers on the same card to remove any card of that suit/value placed after you placed your initial Joker

Playing Caravan (6 8 10 K Strat)

This isn't a strategy I invented, I found it online. But I only every found it in posts that assumed I knew how to play already. So I wanted to put it here alongside a tutorial Also, just as a rule of measure for how weird this game is, we're only now getting to how to actually play the game ...

You're aiming to have the values of the bottom three card piles (your caravans) be higher than their matching top three values (your opponents caravans), while keeping your values between twenty and twenty-six (values outside of this are invalid).

You might notice that you can't place a card on a caravan that already has a card in it. This might be for a few reasons;

There's a difference between attaching a card to another, and stacking a card on top of another: Press the up and down keys to move along the various heights of a caravan. Face cards can only be attached, number cards can only be stacked

You can't place two number cards of the same value in the same caravan. But you can place as many of the same face card as you want in the same caravan

Place a 10 and a 6, or a 10 and an 8 in each caravan, attach a King to the 10 in 10/6 caravans, or to the 8 in 10/8 caravans. These will each bring your value up to 26. If you don't have any of the cards you need, discard something you don't want (like a Queen if you have any in your deck and are using them as null cards). It's worth having a handful of Jacks in your deck to use against your opponent

Beating No-Bark

I'm not certain, but I think No-Bark's deck has no 2's, Queens, or Jokers. He only has three to four Jacks, and two to three Kings. After you've placed your initial card in each of your caravans he'll use a Jack against you one or two times. Rarely three, very rarely none. After your first few moves he's very unlikely to use Jacks again. I only saw him using a king against three times out of thirty-five games. Sometimes he deliberately busts his caravans. I have no idea why he does this

The strat I use against him is to place 6's and 8's as my first card in each caravan, then replace any cards he removes. It's only after three to five moves that I actually start building my caravans. Unless he's particular nasty with his Jacks, or you're particularly unlucky with whichever cards you draw, you should be able to get to 26 in each of your caravans immediately. If not, don't forget to Jack or King any caravan of his that reaches 20

Conclusion

Caravan sucks

If I missed something or didn't explain something right I'll make edits

Peace and love

[bullet-clubs-bitch]

Maybe a Jay white x reader where they are married and she is apart of the bullet club gold and they are so affectionate towards one another and Jay is always cheering her on and she does the same for him. Maybe she is a Gunn sibling and always wins her matches but prince Nana keeps harrasing her because of the bang bang scissors gang and they all come out there to protect the reader. And maybe swerve trys to get involved.

Bang Bang Gang

This one's a bit short but I hope you enjoy it! (This has not been proofread!)

@saramusazzi99 asked to be tagged in this :)

Mentions: Of Prince Nana being a perv

Main Masterlist Jay White Masterlist

One of the main reasons I signed with All Elite Wrestling was so that I could be with my wife Y/n. It had been so long since we were in a promotion together. Instantly the two of us were put in a faction together, the fans loved seeing us together and I coudn’t deny getting paid to spend time with my wife. Both of us were hesitant at first to create Bullet Club Gold since I just left Bullet Club in Japan but Tony Khan assured us everything would work out just fine. I trusted him up until this very moment. Currently, I sat in the Bang Bang Lounge trying to calm down my clearly upset wife. For some odd reason, Prince Nana of all people had been coming out and causing Y/n matches. I didn’t have anything against Swerve and The Gunns and Juice had nothing against the Moguel Embassy. So why was Y/n getting harassed by them?

“So tell us what happened one more time,” Austin asked “Well, I was just having my match with Willow Nightingale when all of a sudden Prince Nana appeared. He asked me if I wanted to see his ‘royal jewels’. When I told him to fuck off he reminded me that he was always watching” My blood was boiling once I heard Y/n explain what occurred moments ago once again. 

I know it didn’t sound like much but this Prince Nana thing had been happening for weeks. Normally I would be ringside for all of Y/n’s matches but every now and then we needed a break from the other. Not to mention our matches happened to be booked back to back. “Do you want me to do something? I can talk to him?” I asked  “No, can you just be ringside for my next match? If I’m trying to become AEW Women’s world champion I need to be focused on my matches. How can I focus if I’m constantly thinking of Prince Nana” Y/n had a point. She needed to be completely focused on capturing gold. “I promise, next week Prince Nana will regret even breathing in the same room as you” 

Just like I said I would keep my promise. Next week Y/n would get her shot for the number one contender for the AEW women’s championship and I would do anything to ensure she would be victorious. As Y/n made her entrance Juice, Austin, Colten and I followed close behind. We watched the ring like hawks, one of us stood on each side of the ring. Just if on command Prince Nana appeared out of nowhere. “How much do you want boss?” He asked me “What? “ “How much?” “How much for what?” “How much for Y/n?” did this psycho just ask me how much I would sell my wife for? I was sick to my stomach at his comments. “Excuse me?” “I think she would make a great addition to the Moguel embassy” I was distracted from my conversation with Prince Nana when Y/n asked “Is everything okay out here?” to which I responded cheerily “Everything is fine my dear” 

I waited until Y/n won her match before I started to beat the bloody hell out of Prince Nana. Soon the Moguel embassy and Swerve joined the mix and we were now at war. This was a bloody brawl. 

Security tried to pry us off each other but it was no use. This was personal, I was going to make them regret everything. I knew I had taken it too far when they sent the entire locker room out to separate us. Reality set in when Y/n looked at me like I was a madman. I looked down to see the Moguel Embassy lying in a pool of their blood. 

I didn’t care about the consequences, I didn’t care that the Gunns and I could get our ROH trios titles taken away. All I cared about was making sure Y/n was okay. I wanted to send a message to the locker room. If you mess with my girl you’ll breathe with the switchblade. 

[vicsy]

Vicsy family lore actually has to do something with f1 this time around and boy was I shocked.

yesterday after I returned home I was telling my dad about attending Baku gp, about racing in general etc. naturally I start telling him all about Fernando and how great he is and I happen to mention crash gate.

“Do you by any chance know an Italian guy named Flavio Briatore?” I asked jokingly, since my dad has been doing business in Italy for thirty years, so perhaps he heard something one day or knew someone who was well-acquainted with Flavio.”

“Of course,” my dad said proudly and then dropped this fucking bombshell: “I crossed paths with him many years ago at an event in Sardinia.”

so. I take a pause. like, haha, right? pull up Flavio’s photo and show it my dad, who doesn’t have the best memory for faces. and I just go “this guy? you’re not mistaking him with anyone else?”

wish I was making this up tbh but my dad deadass said that he went to Billionaire club in Porto Cervo (which is owned by Flavio helppppppp) and Flavio was hanging out in there, my dad’s Italian friends casually introduced them and that was it. they just met. I had to double check. My dad just said “he used to look better back then”.

but guys. it’s not just that. to my stunned silence my dad added:

“It was hard not to know who Briatore was because everyone in Italy knew him in some way and you know that I have friends everywhere. Oh, but one time he did come to our restaurant for a business meeting.”

our family business is restaurants here in Moscow, right in the city center, and my dad spoke of the one in particular. Italian cuisine and, at the time of it opening in 2005, head chef from Sardinia kept one of our restaurants in the spotlight of the Italian embassy, so many notable Italians came there to dine. apparently Flavio fucking Briatore did, too.

you could say “Vicsy, darling, touch grass and go back to writing fanfiction” but I kid you fucking not I WISH I COULD BEAT THE ALLEGATIONS. but no. i really thought my dad was messing with me but his track record of spending almost 30 years of his life on work trips to Italy (which I remember distinctly from my childhood) serve as proof. plus I’ve seen some of his Italian friends irl. let’s say the M word could be applicable to them.

I asked my dad again today if he remembers when it was (like pre crash gate or after) and he genuinely doesn’t remember the exact year. my conclusion is that it was before Flavio got expelled out of f1 cause apparently Flavio’s visit to Moscow was him scouting the location for a possible Grand Prix (which later happened to take place in Sochi for several years).

so. my dad met Flavio Briatore at some point in life and, years before I even grasped the concept of F1, Briatore also sat on the second floor of our restaurant at the big round table under the huge chandelier I used to love when I was a kid. and he shook hands with my dad and all that.

does that… does that mean I’m one handshake away from Fernando?….

[glitterrosesnzz]

good afternoon i am here to drop off an extensive list of h/azbin snz 'prompts' directly from my Notes, cause i had to cut a TON of stuff out of my list of things to write (it was getting far too long) but i still felt like these Deserved to be seen and ive seen a few other people put up prompt lists so-

long explanatory ramble aside boom here's the list;

A/lastor, as we all know, HATES modern technology. what if... there was another reason he despises flash photography... (aka, photosensitive!A/lastor).

this is less of a prompt and moreso something i think would be neat to see... mayhaps, some S/era snzfic?? idk, i think there's potential there

L/ucifer being sick during one of the meetings at hell's Heaven Embassy.

V/ox vs A/lastor vs A/dam vs L/ucifer. i don't actually remember what this prompt was about i just think the four of them arguing ft. some kind of snzkink stuff going on would be really fun. bonus if at the start A/lastor and L/ucifer are arguing while V/ox and A/dam are Teamed Up, and then by the end A/lastor and L/ucifer are teamed up while V/ox and A/dam are arguing-

Initially, after falling, L/ucifer was allergic to more sinful/demonic stuff. As time went on these allergies faded, and he ended up developing allergies to more holy stuff. The existential/identity crisis he went through when this started to happen was intense. ft. L/ucifer sneezing fire for the first time and scaring the hell out of both himself and L/ilith

C/harlie was given some sort of allergy pills before leaving to Heaven, so that she wouldn't be bothered by all the holy stuff there. V/aggie didn't take any cause she believed she wouldn't need them. This was a mistake.

A/lastor with a dog allergy. C/harlie brings a hellhound (or something like that?) to the hotel. I don't think this one requires any further elaboration.

L/ucifer constantly wears this apple scented perfume/cologne for the Vibes. he's secretly mildly allergic/sensitive to it. (as in, it'll set him off when recently sprayed, but it's fine once it's Been a Bit. this usually adds an hour (or more) to his morning routine).

what. what if messing with A/lastor's shadow could make A/lastor himself sneeze. like as in, if A/lastor's shadow went over a dusty shelf or something, it'd make the shadow sneeze, which would then make A/lastor sneeze??? idk i just think it could be fun

idk why the idea of A/ngel Dust, H/usk, and C/herri bringing L/ucifer to a club only for him to either be a) hiding that he's sick or b) allergic to the drinks/a sneezy drunk (or whatever you call it?) is so fun to me but it IS

C/herri should be allergic/sensitive to smoke i think. i think that'd be really fun.

this one's just cause i think it's a funny scenario but; L/ucifer outright being allergic to soul deals-

A/ngel and H/usk feel the most like caretakers to me, so whenever they get sick, especially if it's at the same time, everything dissolves into chaos from everyone else trying to look after them

[philibetexcerpts]

On 16 May 1948, the Duke and Duchess of Edinburgh dined at La Tour d’Argent, the oldest restaurant in Paris. Then, they capped off the night at Chez Carrere nightclub, where they were entertained by french singer Édith Piaf.

Their visit to the nightclub earned a protest from religious organizations, saying it was “contrary to the best traditions of the British people, and set a regrettable example before the youth of the nation.”

The spokesperson of the British embassy in Paris then remarked, “It is necessary to be like the citizens of the country one visits. All the best families in France go to the races on Sundays, and as for a night club, when you are young and in love then, after dinner, you must go and celebrate. We thought the Princess quite perfect. We think it is natural that she and Philip should amuse themselves on Sunday.”

[girlactionfigure]

*ISRAEL REALTIME* - "Connecting the World to Israel in Realtime"

🔻Anti-genocide peace rockets fired from Gaza today (2) at Sderot, and friendly neighbor welcoming rockets and friendly homicide drones were fired by Hezbollah at Kiryat Shmona (3), Arab al-Aramsha, and Katzrin today.

▪️From Wednesday to Friday, 70 buses with "pilgrims" crossed the Iraqi-Syrian border. It is clear that these are not pilgrims, but Iranian and Iraqi fighters who cross into the territory of Syria and Lebanon.

▪️ABOUT ALL THE WARNINGS OF WAR IN THE NORTH.. The IDF does not inform the public or countries near and far about future military operations that it intends to launch into an operation or war.  The messages you have been hearing are NOT from the IDF, but rather efforts of the political echelon to deliver a message to Hezbollah that Israel is getting serious.  And in response you get the opposite, the item above, Iran moving militia fighters closer.

▪️Houthis: American and British ships (war and merchant) became legitimate targets after their attacks on Yemen.

▪️4 U.S. bases attacked in Syria and Iraq overnight.

▪️ANGRY SOLDIERS SAY.. he media does not reflect the reality, we are mowing them down in Gaza!!  According to US estimates, Hamas had approximately 25,000 terrorists before the October 7 war, and that the IDF has eliminated about 10,000 Hamas fighters since Oct. 7 with thousands more are missing and wounded.

▪️JUDEA-SHOMRON STATs.. since the beginning of the war, over 2,950 wanted persons have been arrested throughout the Judea and Samaria Division and the Bekaa and Valleys Division, over 1,350 of whom are associated with the terrorist organization Hamas.

▪️FRANCE has joined the suspend-UNWRA club.

▪️Heavy snow on Mt. Hermon, the site is closed.

▪️(How info spreads…)  Min. Of Foreign Affairs contacted foreign embassies in Israel and checked whether they have generators and satellite phones for backup in case of long power outages.  And noting that all these facilities are in Tel Aviv, Hertzilya or Jerusalem - that spreads the thought “what does the government know that they would ask such a question?”

▪️Noting 10 days after “medication” was delivered with the promise of delivery to hostages - with evidence.  No evidence provided.  Remember the last deal, visits by the Red Cross… never happened.  Why do we keep doing this?

▪️NBC news says Biden administration considering slowing down arms shipments to Israel to force Netanyahu to follow U.S. orders to reduce fighting in Gaza.  WHERE ARE THE BABIES?

▪️Min. Of National Security signs regulations automatically extending gun licenses that would expire in Q1, 2024 for months.

▪️IDF: Two reserve units are withdrawing from Gaza, one reserve unit is DEPLOYING to Gaza.

[s7ray-cat]

PSA for any LGBTQ2IA+ people traveling abroad

This is a link to the LGBTQ+ Travel Safety Index

(Disclaimer: These are excerpts from an article I found)

These are some tools to find safe places to travel for LGBTQ2IA+ people:

LGBTQ-specific travel news and safety basics

U.S. State Department ✈ A section of this government-run online resource offers basic pointers for LGBTQ travelers such as travel document checklists, general safety tips, and information about travel insurance and various U.S. embassy locations.

Equaldex ✈ Launched in 2014, this interactive map-anchored website keeps a running tab on LGBTQ rights–related laws around the world via a global network of user contributions.

National Center for Transgender Equality ✈ This Washington, D.C.–based advocacy organization addresses information relevant to gender-nonconforming and transgender travelers. It features a particularly comprehensive guide to airport security that addresses concerns related to potentially intrusive TSA screening procedures.

OutRight Action International ✈ Formerly known as the International Gay and Lesbian Human Rights Commission, this nonprofit publishes news, studies, and reports on LGBTQ issues around the world that can help travelers stay informed about safety in various destinations.

Erasing 76 Crimes ✈ Journalist and LGBTQ advocate Colin Stewart heads up this news-oriented blog that spotlights global developments related to LGBTQ rights spanning countries across the Middle East, Asia, Africa, Europe, Oceania, and the Americas.

GoAbroad’s LGBTQ Study Abroad Guide✈ For queer students interested in studying abroad, this PDF provides a wealth of information, including tips for coming out to a host family, LGBTQ-specific scholarships, and a list of queer-friendly study abroad programs.

LGBTQ-friendly accommodations and services

The International LGBTQ+ Travel Association ✈ This website acts as a one-stop-shop for all things related to LGBTQ travel planning. It brings together a massive network of queer-approved hotels, transportation providers, tourism boards, travel agencies, tour operators, event promoters, and local media in over 80 countries worldwide; it also maintains recommendation-based travel and business blogs.

Purple Roofs ✈ An LGBTQ mainstay since the late ’90s, this booking website showcases small, family-owned bed-and-breakfasts, hotels, vacation rentals, inns, and tour companies worldwide. It also hosts a variety of related travel resources, including event listings and a dedicated LGBTQ travel blog.

World Rainbow Hotels ✈ This modern travel directory combines a curated list of stylish, queer-friendly hotels in countries where attitudes toward gay, lesbian, bisexual, and trans travelers are for the most part accepting. The website also features an image-driven blog full of travel inspiration, global news, events, and other articles.

Travel Gayand Travel Gay Asia ✈ These twin booking sites serve a predominantly gay male audience, pointing international travelers to city guides with relevant information about bars, clubs, saunas, shops, beaches, and events, as well as queer-friendly hotels across the globe.

GayCities ✈ A similarly gay male–focused online travel guide, this web resource recommends gay-friendly bars, clubs, restaurants, hotels, shops, gyms, and more in 238 different cities from Cape Town to Mexico City.

In addition to explicitly LGBTQ outlets, you can now find pages dedicated to LGBTQ consumers on mainstream online travel booking sites like Expedia and Orbitz. Queer-oriented promotions and packages are also often offered by big-name hotels such as Marriott and Kimpton.

LGBTQ-specialized tour operators and agencies

LGBTQ-friendly tour operators for organized trips

For LGBTQ travelers who’d rather leave trip planning to the experts, award-winning tour operators such as Outstanding Travel, Zoom Vacations, Out Adventures, Toto Tours, Detours Travel, and Concierge Travel all offer a diverse array of international group and private trips. International tour operator R Family Vacations also designs and leads LGBTQ family-friendly trips (plus a few new adults-only options) on land and at sea for public groups and individuals. The queer-run wilderness education organization, The Venture Out Project, operates LGBTQ-specific backpacking trips in the United States for teens, adults, and families.

LGBTQ-friendly cruises

Inclusive travel company Vacaya hosts curated LGBTQ getaways on chartered cruise ships, as well as to all-LGBTQ international resorts. The popular lesbian travel brand Olivia Cruises has been running entertainment-filled cruise, resort, adventure, and riverboat group trips exclusively for queer female–identified travelers since 1990. And cruise company Source Events, which caters predominantly to gay men and their families, organizes both all-gay charters and private LGBTQ groups aboard larger cruise ships (as well as personalized cruise journeys and on-land group itineraries).

Related Free Travel Apps to Download Before Your Next Trip

LGBTQ-friendly travel and networking apps

From joining queer-specific networking groups, to checking for upcoming LGBTQ events in different cities, to starting important conversations about shared experiences through hashtags such as #travelingwhiletrans, LGBTQ travelers have long relied on social media platforms like Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter when planning for domestic and international trips. More recently, meetup apps have created new opportunities for connection between LGBTQ travelers.

Apps (available on iOS and Android)

Meetup ✈ This stalwart community-building platform is a great tool for connecting with fellow LGBTQ folks and getting to know local queer scenes on the road. The “LGBTQ Meetups” section points app users toward various happy hours, professional networking events, book clubs, and hiking groups, as well as playgroups for LGBTQ parents.

SCRUFF Venture ✈ Gay dating app SCRUFF recently launched a travel-oriented edition aimed at making it easier to connect with LGBTQ people “before and while you travel.” By clicking into one of the app’s 500-plus destinations, users can view members marked as “visiting now” or “visiting soon” in each given location. The app also provides travel tips from city “Ambassadors” (members who volunteer to give advice and recommendations to visitors), plus updates about LGBTQ issue–related travel advisories.

Refuge Restrooms ✈ This important resource for trans, intersex, and gender-nonconforming individuals maps out safe restrooms in various countries around the world, which users can search for based on proximity to a location.

Related Seeing the World Through Rainbow-Colored Glasses

LGBTQ-focused travel magazines and blogs

Magazines

Out Magazine’s online outpost Out Traveler covers everything from luxury LGBTQ-friendly hotels and nightlife hot spots to the latest must-have gadgets for jet-setters. Passport Magazine, available in both digital and print formats, touches upon a wealth of topics related to LGBTQ travel, with sections devoted to food and drink, hotel reviews, product roundups, and events. Also worth checking out is Connextions Magazine, which compiles long-form hotel reviews, human interest stories, destination guides, and other global lifestyle content relevant to LGBTQ travelers. (The print and digital publication also has a Spanish edition.)

Although not their main focus, many widely circulated LGBTQ lifestyle outlets like the Advocate, Curve, Autostraddle, Diva, and Chill also feature travel-related news, commentary, city guides, hotel reviews, profiles, and more.

Blogs

Touted as “a lifestyle blog for men and other stylish travelers,” the popular blog Travels of Adam hosts op-eds and personal essays, LGBTQ travel tips and hacks, and restaurant, bar, and hotel reviews in destinations from Egypt to England. Married couple Auston and David head up another gay male–focused travel blog called Two Bad Tourists, which features navigating international gay-friendly destinations, festivals, and events.

On the queer female travel blog Dopes on the Road, you can expect to find a wide range of content, from travel diaries and safety tips to pop culture commentary. Beautiful photo galleries, travel journals, LGBTQ profiles and interviews, travel tips, and destination guides dominate Once Upon a Journey, a helpful travel blog from lesbian couple Roxanne Weijer and Maartje Hensen.

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Don't Go Blindly Into the Dark

Summary:

To hide that he can't read, Jan Van Eck has been forcing his son to pretend he's blind since he was eight years old. Wylan is now attending Ketterdam University, and meeting Jesper Fahey may very well be about to change his life. But is he safe to tell Jesper the truth? And what will Jesper say if he does?

Jesper is struggling to weigh up his life in the Barrel and his life at the University of Ketterdam, and there's a good chance that his growing debt is about to make the decision for him. He hasn't attended class consecutively for months, but maybe that will change when his newest project includes partnering up with Wylan Van Eck. But can he really leave the Barrel behind him? And how long can he keep up the pretence of who he thinks Wylan wants him to be?

Tags: @justalunaticfangirl @lunarthecorvus

If anyone else would like to be tagged let me know :)

Content warnings for this chapter: ptsd, implied child abuse, weapons

AO3 link

Chapter 21 - Jesper

“What the fuck do you mean it was already gone?” Jesper was trying not to shout. Or scream, “You should’ve got there twenty minutes before-”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Jesper,” said Roeder, “The boat was gone, there was no-one there,”

Jesper ran a hand over his face. 

“Nina, what’s the time?”

She glanced at the slim, silvery timepiece on her wrist.

“Five bells half chime,”

Jesper grabbed his jacket, took Anika’s gun straight out of her hand, and began to run towards the door.

“Hey!”

“I’ll give it back to you,” he shouted, “Promise!” 

He could hear all of them calling for him and Nina hurried a few steps in his wake, but he knew she wouldn’t leave Inej. It didn’t matter. He ignored them all and broke out into the street, almost falling over his own feet as he tried to move faster than they could carry him, and trying desperately to remember which canals the Belendt line travelled down. Five bells half chime. There was a very tiny chance of that boat still being in this city, and damn it to hell Jesper was going to find it if it was. 

He flew South, forcing his way through the crowds that were slowly thinning the farther he went, trying to picture the map in his mind; the little red line Kaz had referenced snaking its way out into the countryside for them to follow if they missed the boat at the harbour. He followed the canal until he reached an East-West waterway blocking his path, with Black Veil island, the long since closed cemetery, coming vaguely into view farther South on the other side. Jesper stopped, bouncing on the balls of his feet with anxiety fizzing through his limbs, trying to decide where to go. He didn’t have much time to just stand here trying to make a decision. 

The ferry wouldn’t have passed the graveyard, would it? And surely it wouldn’t have gone down the Geldcanal either - imagine the complaints the Merchant Council members would have at such a thing blocking their private docks or ruining their pretty view. The boat had set off from Third Harbour so it must have gone past the embassies in the Government District and then down the back of the Church of Barter, but after that would it slip straight South or weave its way around the Financial District and then trace the edge of the Barrel before it went South? Jesper didn’t know the way to Belendt, but that red line hadn’t been perfectly straight. The boat must have travelled West along the canal currently blocking Jesper’s path, which meant he needed to find the first bridge he could and get to the next North-South waterway. 

His lungs were starting to put up a protest but he tried to force himself to run again anyway - or he would’ve done, if he wasn’t convinced he'd just heard someone say his name. He sputtered to a halt before he’d really started, turning to look around for the voice he’d heard. There were thin crowds ahead of him, mostly moving North towards the Slat and the Crow Club, and beyond - there was little this far South for the tourists; this was where the Barrel stored its sharpest teeth. But there didn’t seem to be anyone looking at him, or even in his direction. He must have imagined it. He began to turn away, to set back off and pray his stupid little setback hadn’t cost him too badly, when the corner of his eye caught a boy with what would have been ruddy golden curls, if he wasn’t completely and utterly sopping wet.

“Wylan?”

Jesper was in disbelief. He wasn’t close enough for Wylan to have heard him, and as he hurried over he placed a hand on the kid’s shoulder.

“Wylan-”

Wylan flinched so violently he might actually have come a foot off the ground, stumbling away as he turned to face Jesper, panic burning in his eyes. Jesper stepped backwards, retracting his hand.

“Shit- sorry, sorry. It’s just me, it’s Jesper,”

Wylan blinked for a moment, nodding quickly and breathing heavily. Jesper stared at him. He was dripping wet - literally dripping right onto the cobblestones, there was even water starting to pool in the cracks between them - and his hair had darkened where it was plastered to his forehead. His clothes clung to him and he was wearing a very wet satchel on his back, he didn’t have his cane, and Jesper wasn’t entirely certain if he was shaking because he was cold or because he was so taken so badly by surprise from him touching his shoulder. Quite possibly both. Jesper should’ve thought it through - whatever had just happened to Wylan had clearly not been fun, and he couldn’t see him coming.

“Jesper?”

“Yep. What-?” Jesper hesitated. He wasn’t entirely sure where to start, “What happened?”

There was a shaky pause.

“I… I fell off the boat. On the way - on my way to Belendt,”

“You just fell off the boat?”

Wylan nodded. He looked about as convinced as Jesper felt.

“Right…”

Jesper didn’t want to take Wylan back to see Kaz like this, but he was pretty sure Dirtyhands had gone to the Crow Club whilst Nina was Healing Inej. He could take Wylan back to the Slat, find him some dry clothes and suggest he got some sleep, but for as long as he didn’t want to volunteer the truth of his apparent swim Jesper wasn’t going to press for it, or let Wylan realise that he knew more than he was letting on. He swallowed.

“You remember I said I had a second place, in the city?”

Wylan nodded again.

“It’s about a ten minute walk from here, more or less, we can go there,”

He didn’t really want to say that it was the Slat, he didn’t know if Wylan would agree to follow him there. He was doubtless going to have a good guess at what kind of place they were in when he heard the crowds and the voices of the Dregs’, but hopefully by that point already having arrived would be a good enough argument to convince him to hang around. 

“Why?”

Jesper was taken slightly by surprise.

“Because it’s cold and you’re soaking wet, perhaps? Or maybe because I’m not just going to leave you standing alone in the middle of the Barrel looking so deeply lost that you’re basically just a walking target?”

Wylan’s face blanched a little at that. It then occurred to Jesper that the kid might be wondering why he’d assumed he had nowhere else to go, so he added:

“I mean, I can walk you home of course, but I thought you might want to get some clean clothes-”

“No,” Wylan managed, as if the word had been forced from his chest, “I… it would be really nice of you, to let me come to yours. Thank you,”

“Of course,” Jesper tried to smile reassuringly, and then remembered that wouldn’t make much of a difference to Wylan. 

He was about to set them both moving, when he remembered again that Wylan didn’t have his cane.

“Er, the ground’s kind of uneven,” he ventured, “Are you okay…?”

“We might have to go slow,” said Wylan, after a moment, “but I’m okay,”

The Slat was, of course, still busy when they arrived, but it seemed like Kaz was still absent. That was good; Jesper didn’t think this was a good time to spring anything more on Wylan than he was already dealing with. There were a few Dregs hanging around outside the building but the crowds weren’t thick around the place like they would be at the Crow Club, and Nina must have gone back to Inej’s room because he couldn’t see her as they came in. Someone on the far side of the room dropped a bottle and it shattered across the floorboards, leading several of the people around them to give a loud cheer.

“Jesper? Where are we?”

“It’s just, erm - careful, step - it’s just like a… small apartment building?” He probably shouldn’t have said that like it was a question, “I’m upstairs, just this way,”

Eventually they made it to the relative quiet of Jesper’s room, the door closed behind them. It was a little messy in here, but Jesper quickly dug through his stuff and found a clean towel to give to Wylan. He didn’t have any clothes that would fit him but he was sure he could find something somewhere in the house that would work until Wylan’s things were dry. 

“You can sit down,” he said, glancing over his shoulder and realising Wylan was still hovering next to the door handle with the towel clutched between his shivering fingers, “If you want. I’ll get you a drink - do you want something to eat?”

Wylan didn’t say anything, so Jesper returned with tea in the cleanest looking mug he could find and a slightly pathetic looking plate of two bread rolls and a hunk of cheese that was the best he could do at the moment. He knocked and waited for a moment, then when Wylan didn’t call him in knocked again and said:

“It’s Jesper. You alright?”

The door creaked open. Wylan must have run the towel through his hair because it was now slightly frizzy through the damp, and he’d dried his hands and face as well. He sat back down as Jesper set the plate and mug onto the little table that just about fit into his room. 

“I’ll go find you something dry to wear,” he said, after a minute of silence, “But then I, erm, due at work pretty soon,” he needed an excuse to run and tell the others Wylan was alive, and ask Kaz to wait until at least tomorrow until he followed up, “You gonna be okay here for a few hours? Or I can stay, but I’ll need to run out to let them kno-”

“It’s okay,”

Wylan’s voice was soft, almost distant. He sat very still where he was perching on the edge of Jesper’s bed, hands folded on his lap, eyes fixed blankly on the wall. After a minute, Jesper sat down next to him.

“Do you want to talk?”

“No,”

“Do you want me to talk about something else?”

There was a pause.

“Maybe,”

“Alright,” Jesper pulled his feet onto the bed so her could sit cross-legged, drumming his fingers against his knees, “Just let me know when you’ve decided,”

Wylan turned slowly so they were facing each other again. His scar glistened in the light that was coming through Jesper’s window; sunrise was all but complete and the rays painted dreams of light and shadow across Wylan’s face, and glistened in the water droplets still clinging to his curls. 

“Jesper…”

There was silence for a moment.

“Talk to me,” he whispered, “Just… keep talking. About anything. Please,”

“You’re in luck, merchling,” Jesper grinned, “That just so happens to be be my superpower,”