#agent murphy

[luna-xelaju]

the loves of my life

[kaira-diaries]

One More Night:

Note: one shot is also available on Wattpad under my account Kairadiaries for those who prefer it.

Warning: violence / character death / blood / gun use / bullet wounds / language

Pair: javi x f!character

Summary: you're hired for a job at the embassy with Javi, but make one life threatening mistake.

••••

"I think..I think he's dead."

"You think?" Javier scowled with a tilted head and furrowed brows.

You made a massive fuck up.

You were supposed to interview the guy. Gacha, you think was his name, use your trust worthy interview voice with a pen and paper copying everything down. Keep it low key, beat around the bush and read from the card of questions the ambassador approved. But no. No. You knew you blew it once the man perked up in his seat. You asked your own unapproved question, must have been a little too specific, considering the man threw himself from the balcony, punching a dent into the hood of Javier's truck.

You observed the body in silence, unsure of what to say to Javier. You only shy away from him and his intimidating demeanor. You'd never get used to it that's for sure. Though, right now what you're worried about was the ambassador. Javier had stuck his neck out for you and argued with the woman to give this opportunity to you. You were a newly surfaced interviewer, unseen and unknown. He'd insisted on using you and it was a foolproof plan until you blew it.

"We are so fucked." Javier raised his voice, rolling the disfigured body on its back. The sound of broken glass made your face scrunch up as tears threatened to fall.

"We're going to have to call for back up, and inform the ambassador."

"What – what will she do?" Jav couldn't tear his eyes from the body and it's disturbing angle.

"Who knows, y/n. We'll be in the doghouse that's for fucking sure. All I asked was for you to follow the questions, the approved questions." That's when he ripped his eyes from the body, glaring at you.

"I – I..I'm sorry." You whispered as your cheeks began to salt with tears. He only shook his head, instructing you to divert the crowd of civilians that amassed on the sidewalk, while he made a few phone calls.

The heat on its own weighed you down, though you found it strenuous to breathe from the massive blame pressing against your shoulders.

____

"Does someone want to tell me what the fuck happened?" You had almost jumped. The walls rattled from her anger. Javi hadn't looked at you once since you both returned. He sat beside you, playing with the flawed fabric of his tie. Forgiveness wouldn't be in the cards for you if he lost his job.

"Well?" She urged.

"I-I just wanted to do what was asked. I never meant for this to happen. I'm sorry."

"We run this Embassy on a tight leash, y/n. We are being scrutinized, not only by Escobar, but the entire country itself. Our missteps affect us all, and many are interested to see just how far we'll go to get to the other side of this case and today will reflect incredibly poorly on us. Gacha? Off fucking limits in the cartel. In any other circumstance this would be a break through, but right now? Not. Fucking. Good. For any of us. Through the public eye this will be an onslaught or organized trickery on an innocent man."

The ambassador takes a seat, fingers massaging the exhaustion in her eyes. " Y/n what were you thinking?"

Your cheeks are feverish, "I don't know." You admit. You intend to speak out more, but your tongue is frozen, and Javi chimes in. "So what do we do, what's the plan here?"

"We do nothing, agent. We leave it in the hands of the narcos. As far as the public is concerned, the man was indeed innocent, with no ties to the cartel. Just a rich investor. If Escobar makes a move, we'll be free to hit him again. As for the innocent man that will be entirely unlike."

You sit motionlessly, head down, and out of the conversation.

The Ambassador blows out a breath of air as if it was the first time she's breathed over the course of this conversation. "Every agent will be on alert. An order should be released later today. In the meantime, you should head home before I change my mind about holding onto your badges for a little while. Lock down your apartment, close all the shades, and keep the lights off. Hell, book a hotel room if you want, either way, I'll send some men to keep a close perimeter. Just take the rest of the week off."

"What about Murphy?" Javi's partner, of course. The two are inseparable. A true brotherly relationship.

"He'll be just fine in his own. Paperwork shouldn't be a burden for him. Your main concern is keeping y/n out of sight. Your door could be beaten down at any instant with the flash of a gun barrel to her head."

You should be worried about that last part, except a kick of relief washes through you at the fact that Murphy, on his own, would be safe for the rest of this week.

You take this opportunity of silence to pull out your recorder and notepad from the interview, placing it on the wooden desk. You drop your wrists quickly, hoping to hide their tremor. "From the interview," you mumbled as she grabs both, flipping through your pages.

"You're dismissed," she answers, speaking to both of you, eyes still glued to the ink.

____

"I should have never brought you into this." Javier shares. The car ride home had been silent, until now, with twenty minutes still to go.

"It's not like I meant to, Javier. Surely you know that?" He lights a cigarette, steering the car with his knee for a moment or two. You always hated that.

"Of course, I know that. I'm not.. angry with you, y/n." He says, cigarette between his teeth.

"Right." You lean on your elbow, staring out the car window. You don't believe him, not with the way he reacted this morning. Though, you think on how else he could react. Give you comfort? Reassuring words, cooing that it's not your fault? No. Javier wouldn't. Not with something that was this important because it is your fault.

"I mean I was, but.." he pauses. You feel his gaze before a warm palm squeezes the pillowy flesh of your thigh. "Hey," he calls. You turn, drawn to the delightful change in his voice, and the scent of his cigarette. "I was angry, of course, I was. But I understand, y/n. You saw an opportunity to get more Intel, even if it was premature. It doesn't matter because you were thinking like me."

You could see the warmth radiating from his brown eyes. The aviators are unable to neutralize such fervency. You nod at him, sliding your hand onto his, locking it against your thigh.

"I mean, did we nearly lose our jobs? Probably. Are you number one on Escobars kill list? Probably. Is it my fault? Probably." He shrugs, taking a puff from his cigarette.

"I'm the one that fucked up, not you? You stuck your neck out for me, got me a job at the embassy and I just...I fucked up." You couldn't think of any other way to put it. You fucked up. It's as simple as that. You wouldn't allow Javi to to blame himself.

"Okay, well how about we don't play the finger pointing game and just eat some dinner, yeah?"

Javier pulls the car into a concealed parking spot, different from your usual spot. He grabbed your bag from the backseat, stepping out the car and circling to the other side to you.

It, for some reason, brought you back.

You thought of the night you met Javi. It was a nice dinner, your friend Connie, Steve's wife, had invited you. You sat across from her, Steve sat beside her, and Javier was in the chair next to you, absolutely grilling you. You couldn't remember quite what it was about, but you remember the wrath you felt. Vexation was clearly his strong suit. You couldn't tell if he was being playful or straight up just being a dick. Either way, you had a bad taste in your mouth after being around him.

It was almost enough to keep you from learning just how creative and brave he was.

Steve had eventually told you the stories of how vigorous his plans were.

Raids we're successful because of Javi and its what makes him one of the best in the embassy to this day.

You couldn't help but ask yourself ..

Did you ruin that?

Make him look like a fool in love? Make him look soft?

A large hand waved in your face. "Where'd you go, huh?"

You blinked twice, eyes back in focus, finding his focusing back on you.

"Just lost in thought, I guess." You tucked a red wavy strand of hair behind your ear and he leans in giving you a sweet kiss, helping you out of the truck.

____

"Do you have any sevens?"

"Go fish, pretty girl."

It was past midnight in Colombia, yet the streets were loud with pride.

Javier and you downed a bottle of wine and a box of cookies baked and gifted to you from Connie. You made an effort to sleep after dinner, was even enticed by Javi, but your mind was too loud and your bed was frigid. A little too cold to be ordinary. It was a bizarre feeling and awfully foreign, leaving you with an uneasy sensation. Javi sensed it of course, and toted you off into to the living room, making sure to gather his fortuitous deck of playing cards and the bottle of red wine that was currently hollow. He even found blankets and gave his word to stay up and play cards until you were exhausted.

You whined, snatching yet another card. Who knew Javi would beat you at a damned child's game. He had a pompous smirk on his face while observing you.

You merely giggled as your cheeks reddened with color from his watch.

You worshiped witnessing Javi like this. So..homely. His hair is unkept and fluffy, a remarkable compliment to his brown eyes. He wore a black nightshirt and pajama pants. He was soothed, and his guard was down. His customary harsh and strong-arm articulation, reduced to a delicate sculpture. You could just paint the breathtaking portrait in your head; a life with Javier, a family with him. It was a beautiful romance and one that'd be ultimately conceivable.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" He says.

You smile, "Just lost in thought." You answer. His lips stretch into a sweet smile. One of the great secrets of Javier Peña; his striking smile.

"Do you remember, back in Texas last year when we were having dinner with my mother?"

He nods. "On her farm, right? The Fourth of July?"

"Yes. And she wouldn't be quiet about the nights her and I spent together, playing cards and drinking chocolate milk." You giggle at the thought. "I don't think I understood what it meant for her until now. I mean, I was just a kid and was happy to be there with her, but she needed it. A time to just get away from what troubled her. To get away from her mistakes and be with somebody she cherished." You glanced at Javier.

"I thought this would be a promising diversion. We both made mistakes today and I just, I didn't want you to crumble. I'm so sorry, y/n for dragging you into this mess. I wasn't thinking like I should have. I knew the risks, and.."

"No no no, this was my decision." You grab his jaw and draw his gaze back to yours. "My choice. Okay? I'm the one, that after two years of watching you work, disobeyed direct orders. I should have been smarter than I was." His eyes are unsure but yours are opposing. Your strong gaze turns to mush, knowing he'd never be okay with this. Instead of words, you just lean in communicating with a kiss.

It's strange to you how much a person can enable you to forget your troubles. You were caught in this endearing moment with him and obviously, he was too, because once an intense grief, scalding and unbearable, shot through your shoulder, a flip had quickly switched in Javier's expression as he pulled back and it terrified you.

Really terrified you.

Everything, from that moment on, began to move fast.

I guess that's what happens when you're about to possibly die.

You remember the blood pouring from your shoulder, keeling over onto the floor in agony. Javier's eyes are in an unreachable rage and sorrow as he grabs you as gently as possible, pulling you behind the couch. Your body was in shock, the bullet surely hitting something essential in your shoulder from the portion of blood you were losing. Javier, shifting you so your back is to him examines for an exit wound. You barely hear the agonizing scream you release. "I know, pretty girl, I know!"He enunciated. Finding exactly what he was looking for, Javi fit your head in his lap. It was evident there was nowhere else to go unless we both wanted to be punctured with bullets. As the bullets continued to fly, each bang deafening you by the second, Javier moved fast, grabbing his gun from the coffee table. You dared to look down, finding Javiers blood-stained shirt, finding your wound and it's a gruesome attribute.

With mastery, he aims with unstable hands up over the couch directly into enemies' sight. Speaking of sight, yours begins to spin, and you sense the loss of strength in your limbs as you pull at his shirt, giving into the darkness.

In your unconscious state, Jav had run out of bullets quicker than you could even speak the word. After all it was just him against a crew of men that had a hell of a lot more cover and yet a handful were put down with ease. It's then that the ambassador's men show, along with Steve. Connie sprints to your side and remains there. With both Javier and Connie keeping pressure on your wound they bitterly waited for a medic.

Javier hadn't known what to do.

So he pleaded.

Not only to you but to the gods above for another day with you, another night with you. He had implored, with your blood on his hands and shirt. He had prayed for one more night, knowing damn well he wouldn't get one as you took your final breath leaving him with a shattered universe and an immense arch of vindication.

[beyondilf]

A Day with Boyd Holbrook

Driving to your favourite & most secluded swimming spot in a beautiful sunny day, middle of spring and summer.

The sun is warm enough to heat up the top of the water layer, and warm enough to feel comfortable above water. It gets a little cold when you both get into it, though. If only there was something you could do to keep both of you warm...

[a-tale-never-told]

A Manly Talk(Rewrite of A Conplict Man)

Man... What an odd and bizarre experience that must've been for you. I mean, I always assumed that most of Nanami-San's classmates were a bit eccentric, judging by her descriptions of them. but I had absolutely zero idea as to how insane most of 'em are. Must be hard having to deal with all of that, I assume?

Oh, don't even get me started, dude. Most of the time, It's just usually throughout the entire day, somethin' absolutely batshit happens to occur while I'm at my dorms, working on whatever spiced-up gadgets I can assemble in my free time. It's so freakin' irritating and annoying to put up with!

You and me both. I honestly think I wouldn't be able to handle that overwhelming amount of anxiety and pressure to deal with everything all at once. I'd would've just given up and called it an honest day if I'm being truthful with you. And I'd thought Class 76th was the more eccentric one of the bunch!

Nope. They're absolutely sane, compared to the rest of us. At least they didn't have people who speak nonstop gibberish or always blabber about some demonic crap! Makes me think that I'm one of the more level-headed, actually normal guys in the academy if I'm being serious.

Hope's Peak isn't a stranger to recruiting some weird, erratic, and downright uncanny people a lot of the time. As long as you're talented and you pay the required amount of money, it doesn't matter what kind of people are attending this school.

Sounds pretty stupid to me, considering that we've had people with incredibly shady talents attending this school before, do I even need to mention Ted Chikatilo, Ultimate PyroTechnician? I get it's his talent, but the guy's a literal arsonist. He's been itching for a chance to literally set the whole academy on fire, and yet he's still attending as a senior in the Main Course.

Guy's a deranged, wacky, psycho, there's no doubt about it. He can't even stare at a smoking plate of takoyaki without having some sort of creepy organism about the wonderful joys of flames. Gives me the fuckin' creeps every time I'd look at him.

Since we're on the topic of discussing Hope's Peak, there is something that I'm kinda curious about. Mind answering that for me?

??? Hold It! Halt the recording, Danny!

__________________________________________________

August 31st, 2043, Mid-afternoon, Hinata-Nanami residence.

*Upon hearing Murphy's command, the cameraman proceeds to halt the recording near the 15th-minute mark during the conversation with Kazuichi, much to Hajime's confusion and befuddlement *

Um...? Can somebody please give me a reasonable explanation as to why we'd just stopped the recording?

Agent Murphy: Well, according to our lead camera expert, Daniel, this particular section of the film reel wasn't supposed to be aired, as it was supposed to be saved for a subsequent recording that would've been untill we reached the near climax of your story. But somehow, we've ended up with this recurring reel by mistake.

Agent Murphy: Now, I'm not a person who's a valuable expert in the fields of photography and cinematography respectively, but it's evidently clear that this tape recording wasn't supposed to be aired, let alone featured at an earlier time than usual. Care to explain what I'm talking about, Hinata?

Hold up, you'd think I've been the one meddling around with the video recordings? I've been resting on the chair throughout the entire interview and now you're accusing me of tampering with evidence?!

Agent Murphy: I'm not accusing you, I'm simply demanding an explanation from you because this entire sequence from around the first quarter of the recording has been rather suspiciously stretched together. So tell me, Hinata: Did you alter the recordings tapes or are you clear of any charges of illegally falsifying evidence?

...!

Agent Murphy: I'd know that you're an intelligent young man with a rather honest way of thinking. So I'm confident that you'll give us an understandable reason as to why you're committing an attempted breach of the contract. May I need to remind you that this is all funded and sanctioned by the United States Marine Corps? So you'll be facing a rather lengthy time in prison if you don't confess now.

...!

Okay, okay! Maybe, I'd probably altered a little bit of footage from what it originally was, but could you seriously blame me for doing that? Yeah, perhaps I've gone way overboard with the whole showing footage idea, but I was impatient about showing this.

Agent Murphy: That's not an excuse! It doesn't excuse you from interfering with federal equipment and technology to suit your own ends! I understand that you're getting worn out from waiting this long, but that's not an explanation for trying to skip important events.

I don't think you understand the picture here, Hubert! It's not just because of me wanting to rush everything up. It's because the people have a fucking right to know what exactly happened that day.

I've lost so many wonderful, kindhearted, genuine people throughout my entire life as a student in Hope's Peak, people who totally didn't deserve the fates decided for them, all because of a conflict that we weren't even a fucking part of! We didn't join of our own volition! We had no damm choice! No free will whatsoever! And yet you're expecting me to calm the hell down and save all of the truth for later?!

Innocent civilians DIED because of you! You've heard that? They're DEAD! GONE! DEPARTED! Their loved ones now have to live with the depressing fact that they were murdered all because of a conflict about bullshit ideals and political nonsense! I regretted every single decision, every single action I'd taken to prevent more bloodshed and deaths from happening and YOU want to hide the reality of the true story from them, simply because it'd make you all guilty by proxy.

Agent Murphy: That's never the intention I wanted! I didn't want countless innocents to be caught up in our confrontation with the Soviets! But you'd have to understand that no matter the outcome, people were going to perish regardless of your and your associates's involvement! I'm not trying to hide anything remotely truthful from you! So get your damm priorities straight and snap out of it, Hajime!!

!!

I...I'm truly sorry for the sudden outburst. It's just that ever since the Cold War ended and I retired to have a family with Chiaki, I've been suffering endless mental relapses. Doctors explained to me as a result of the overwhelming amounts of trauma I'd gotten during my adventures, it leads to me reliving all of the truly fucked up stuff I've experienced.

Agent Murphy: It's completely understandable how you would react to all of this. But you're gonna have to understand that it's all over now. The Cold War had reached its conclusion thanks to the efforts of you and your friends. Japan is now reunified, and an ever-long-lasting piece has now been established, all thanks to you and the contributions you've made to making the world a better place.

Agent Murphy: However, it's becoming rather obvious that you still possess some unresolved issues, due to how much stress and anxiety you've dealt with in the span of a decade. May I suggest recommending a therapy session to clear up any lingering issues you might have? With that psychologist woman, Gekkougahara if I'm not mistaken?

Yeah. Gekkougahara-San, the former Ultimate Therapist. She's been a great source of encouragement throughout the years for both me and the rest of my friends and family. If it weren't for her efforts and being supportive of me whenever I was in a bad place, I'd probably never be as confident as I am now. Seriously though, it's been a long while since I've ever spoken to her.

Agent Murphy: Well, why don't you go seek some advice from her on how to deal with your mental problems? I'd always go to a therapist for some sense of clarity and advice on an issue that I didn't know how to resolve and since Gekkougahara's methods of psychology were talented enough to grant her a position within Hope's Peak, maybe you should reach her or any other therapist you've known to help you.

Y'know... that's actually not bad advice. I've become so accustomed to always suspecting and training myself for some eventual threat, that it's becoming difficult for me to readjust back to a normal life. All I wanna do now is just spend family time with my kid, my beautiful wife, and my old friends.

Anyway, I believe we got a bit sidetracked from what we're talking about, so I'll let you install the true recording back into the film camera if that's fine with you. and Murphy?

Agent Murphy: Yes?

Thanks for having my back, man. I can't stress how much effort you're putting into releasing this documentary to millions of people. That takes dedication and effort, and I can't stress how much assistance you've done for us.

Agent Murphy: My pleasure. After all, I knew that I needed to repay you all eventually for your hard work, and I figured this was a way of expressing gratitude and showing my appreciation for everything you've done for us. But enough explanations, let's resume the recording.

Couldn't agree more with that statement myself, Hubert.

__________________________________________________

Monday, September 11th, Souda residence, Late afternoon

Huh? S-Sure, I'd be willing to answer that for you. So, what's the question you wanna ask? Is something wrong? Did anybody hurt you on the way here? Did you suffer an incident on the speedway? Those highways are filled with a lot of traffic these days, y'know?

Nothing like that, but I appreciate the concern. I just had an epiphany since last week, and I was wondering if you could clear up any doubts I'd might have while explaining what I'm gonna say. Is that okay with you?

I don't mind much, bro. Just...Tell me what's on your mind. Surely, it can't be that much of a weird question, right? There's gotta be a reason for why you want to discuss this in private. Otherwise, why would you be just telling me this, all of a sudden?

I just wanna know what brought you all the way here to register into Hope's Peak? I know that the obvious answer is that you're exceptionally talented in your craft, but I want to hear why you've been accepted into Hope's Peak and your reasons for coming there.

W-Whoa, what's with the tone, man? Didn't I just explain the main reasons why I wanted to enroll at Hope's Peak? So what's with you demanding some kind of explanation? What'd I look like to ya, a damm moron?!

Seriously? Because I've don't think that you've explained the entire story thoroughly to me. There's gotta be some explanation or motive that you'd had for registering there in the first place. So I'll ask this question again: Why did you register at Hope's Peak?

...

[thedailyplatypics]

Me switching from the Barbie to Oppenheimer theater:

[kawaiixriot]

The daddy vibes are oozing off of him 🤤🤤🤤

[hamable]

Mr. And Mrs. Gukgak

[magicaleraser94]

Rare photo of Secret Agent Riz "The Ball" Gukgak, and his beautiful hair.

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

How About It, Agent Miller? | Lenny Miller x fem!reader

Summary: The year is 1988. The Cold War is well underway and tensions are slowly rising between the US and the Soviets. CIA Agent Miller isn’t threatened by the new young agent from the Soviet Union but she has a plan to get his attention, and to get even.

Warnings: Misogyny, violence, gun, kidnapping, restraints, dubious consent, noncon, smut, unprotected sex, edging, drugging.

word count: 4661k

Sympathy for the Devil- The Rolling Stones 🎶

Devils Haircut- Beck 🎵

You Know I’m No Good- Amy Winehouse 🎶

Movie: Anna (2019)

Please read warnings before continuing, thanks!

He thought this job was going to be simple, almost easy. She was working for East Germany, young, and new to her position; surely she wouldn’t be that difficult to eliminate. He’d been working for the CIA for nearly fifteen years at that point. He was one of the top agents and had orchestrated the downfall of many notable German and Soviet spies. To be fair, there had been that minor detail of receiving several severed heads from the KGB back in 1985 but that was all behind him now. They didn’t scare him now, and certainly, that twenty-something agent he’d heard so much about wasn’t about to make him lose sleep. In fact, he was looking forward to meeting her.

The girl in question was twenty-two and one of the deadliest spies to ever work for East Germany (the communist side). Y/N Y/L/N managed to slip past the CIA on multiple occasions, stealing out the backdoor or using false passports to get out of the country undetected. She’d made one mistake, however, and Agent Miller was quick to catch it. He rued the way she’d avoided detection for so long when it felt like it was all due simply to good luck. She didn’t seem especially smart or conniving, just pretty. It pissed him off. The mistake that Y/N had made was small, easy to look over, but Agent Miller was looking, and he found it.

Y/N tricked men around her to get information on the US. Once she’d get them alone, she drugged them, shot them, etc; anything to get them out of her way while she downloaded classified files from their computers. She had managed to steal these files before without leaving traces of her crime but low and behold, the last time she had removed the flash drive without ejecting it from the computer’s system. The computer held onto the flash drive's information and told Agent Miller exactly what the young woman was planning next. She’d been collecting information on nuclear weapons and international trade deals that the US was trying to keep hush hush. And for that reason, Agent Miller knew who she was going after next.

He straightened his striped blue tie and cleared his throat as he and his team crowded into the elevator. The men behind him carried larger guns and thick bulletproof vests, ready for whatever the girl threw at them. They’d followed her into a hotel in New York City, a place that felt too normal for the situation at hand. When the elevator doors opened with a soft whooshing noise, Agent Miller nodded his agents on, directing them to either side of the corridor. Quickly, they raided the hotel room belonging to the man they believed she had gone after that evening, but did not find her there. She was nowhere in the hotel. Agent Miller cursed beneath his breath and gritted his teeth. He knew his impatience was his worst quality and it only hurt him in these situations, but then again, the American government isn’t known for being very patient with communists…

Clenching and relaxing his jaw, Agent Miller went back down in the elevator with his men. They separated into groups in the lobby, each climbing back into the armored car sent by the CIA. Agent Miller waited behind, his cold eyes trained on the curb in front of the hotel. His car was separate from the others and would take him directly back to his office. A sharp wind ruffled his dark brown hair, displacing one strand into his face as his car pulled up to the curb. Agent Miller climbed into the dark backseat, the car door slamming closed beside him and a lock clicking into place. He looked up. The barrel of a pistol was pointed at his forehead. He froze.

“Hello, Agent Miller. Wie geht es Ihnen? I’m so glad we finally got a moment alone. I apologize for the circumstances but you know how the politics are these days… it’s so… toxic. Ja? Now, be a good boy and hand me the glock you have at your hip,” a young woman smiled on the seat beside him. She was wearing all black and blended in against the dark leather seats and tinted windows. Agent Miller frowned, his hands unmoving.

“That doesn’t seem fair, does it? You’re putting me at a disadvantage here.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself like that, Agent Miller. You and I both know what you’re capable of,” she chuckled mockingly but her sunglasses hid her true meaning. “Give me your gun, now.” Her voice was hard and cool like a porcelain plate, one of the perfect edges with a chip. Agent Miller raised his hand slowly and moved his jacket to the side, showing his holster. As soon as she had his gun in her hand she tapped the glass partition between them and the driver, signaling him to drive.

“Where are we going?” Agent Miller sighed calmly, leaning back against the seat. Y/N smiled, pleased at his temperament. It made things easier.

“One of my favorite places in New York City,” she answered with a smirk, a gun still trained at the man beside her though it had been lowered.

“And what kind of place could that be, god forbid?” Agent Miller asked rhetorically and looked over at the window beside him.

“The Plaza Hotel,” she answered slowly and shifted in her seat. Her pleated leather skirt shifted across her black stockings, showing more of her thigh, fleshy and round. Agent Miller noticed it and smirked, the comedy of the situation being too much for him to take seriously. The car stopped at the back of the hotel by the service entrance. Men exited out of the building and held a door open, waiting as Y/N escorted the CIA agent inside. Agent Miller followed her calmly as he searched for someone who could help him.

“No one’s here. It’s off-season,” she sighed lightly and pushed him into an elevator.

“It’s never off-season in New York,” Agent Miller raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Surprise, surprise.”

They took the elevator up to the top floor. Agent Miller’s hands began to sweat as he was led out of the elevator and around the corridor to a suite, separated from the others.

“You must get a good salary,” Agent Miller cracked as the woman jerked the gun towards the door of the suite. He kept his hands visible as he entered the room and looked around. The room was large and was actually made up of multiple rooms. In the center of the living room area, a chair had been left out.

“Sit down and make yourself comfortable. Bitte.” She had a way of talking that sounded like a purr but it was clear to Agent Miller that her words were more threatening than they sounded. Still, it was hard to take her seriously. It was hard to believe that this woman was the deadliest spy in East Germany.

“Danke schön,” Agent Miller muttered, his American accent muddling the German.

"Kannst du Deutsch sprechen, Herr Miller?” Y/N pretended to sound surprised as she closed and bolted the lock. “I’m flattered, really,” she smiled and removed her long black coat. Slowly she placed the coat on a couch’s arm and pulled off the blonde wig on her head, revealing her dark hair beneath which fell into a messy bob around her shoulders, over her dark mauve blouse. Last she removed her sunglasses and folded them neatly on her coat. Then she met his eyes.

“Nein? Well, then it's good I’m so fluent in English. You would never tell by my accent. At least, you didn’t the last time we met.”

“We’ve met before?” Agent Miller asked and shifted in his chair.

“Oh yes.” She smiled and dimples deepened on her cheeks.

An image came back to him, one of a young woman dropping a stack of manuscripts in the lobby of a hotel where they had been investigating the last crime scene. She’d been wearing a long brown wig and tortoiseshell glasses. She even had brown contacts in her eyes to hide her true eye color. He’d stopped to help her collect the manuscripts.

Oh gosh, thank you so much. So sorry about that. My boss is going to kill me. Thank you! She’d blushed as he handed her the papers. He’d met her before. She’d shown herself to him just to play with him. He scowled.

“Now I feel even more at a disadvantage.”

“How? After all, you’re the big-shot CIA agent, due for a promotion any day now… and I’m just a little girl. I don’t need any real smarts, not when I can just use my good looks to get what I want. Right, Agent Miller?” Her voice darkened as she finished, flashing with resentment. “You could fight me right now. It’s just the two of us. I’m surprised you didn’t. You’ve had ample opportunities to but you blindly follow my orders. It’s not that you’re scared to hurt me, you aren’t that sexist.”

“I don’t see the point of fighting when you’ve put so much work into getting me alone. I assume you have something to say.” Agent Miller swallowed, his cool facade slipping slightly as the woman approached him slowly.

“Aw how chivalrous of you! Oh, but what if I told you that I was only interested in getting you alone so that I could finally get even with you.” Y/N twirled the gun around her pointer finger and shifted it to his chest. He stiffened.

“Get even?”

“Settle the score,” she offered with a shrug.

“I don’t think I follow,” Agent Miller frowned warily.

“Then let me explain,” Y/N purred and with quick movements, she removed a pair of handcuffs from the back of her skirt and closed them tightly around both of his wrists, tying his hands around the back of the heavy chair. His eyes widened slightly when he realized what she had done.

“The fuck…” he started but she cut him off quickly.

“You didn’t think I could outsmart you or get the upper hand… you thought you could so easily catch me. And what a good job you’ve done!” She crossed her arms across her chest and set the gun down, smiling. Agent Miller averted his gaze, staring at the upper corner of the room. He clenched his jaw and struggled against the handcuffs for a brief moment.

“Haven’t you figured it out yet, Agent Miller?”

“Figured what out?” He snapped impatiently.

“I've been planning this for months. Do you really think I accidentally removed my flashdrive wrong, coincidentally leaving you all of the information that i’ve gathered since starting my mission? You’ve really underestimated me,” she clucked her tongue and kicked off her high heels, standing barefoot in her pantyhose on the dark pink shag carpet.

“I knew you’d find the mistake, I wanted you to. You did everything you were supposed to do, good boy,” she carded her fingers through his dark hair. The soft warm lighting in the room brought out the freckles across his pale face. Just as he started to turn his eyes to hers, she yanked his hair back so that he was looking up at her. “But how did this special agent who graduated from MIT of all places, end up in this position?”

“Did you do all of this just to show me how smart you are?” Agent Miller growled as she continued to pull at his roots.

“Something like that,” she smiled again, “I get off when men think they’re smarter than I am. I like proving them wrong… and then killing them.”

“Is that your plan for tonight?” He tried to keep a level voice as the smell of her perfume wafted down to his nose. She shook her head slightly and chuckled.

“You’ve been trained to resist torture, so there won’t be much that I can get out of you that way. And anyway, there isn’t much that I don’t already know.” She released her grip on his hair and stepped back. Y/N moved to the bar cart, stocked with crystal jars of whiskey and bourbon.

“So what are you going to do to me?” Agent Miller raised an eyebrow as he watched her pour a small glass of whiskey. She turned slowly and approached him again, swirling the whiskey in her glass. She raised the glass to his lips and poured it gently into his mouth. He parted his lips for her, his eyes trained on her face.

“Whatever I want,” she whispered and pulled the glass from his lips. Agent Miller raised his eyebrow, swallowing.

“Won’t your government disapprove?” He scoffed and shifted in the seat, calming himself down. His body was starting to get hot and his collar got tighter.

“Shhh,” she shushed him, a finger pressed against her own lips. Y/N approached him again and trailed one manicured finger from his arm to his hand. He shivered beneath her touch and his heart began to race. He felt his pulse in his stomach as she carded her fingers through his hair again, softer this time. She placed one knee on the chair between his thighs, pressing against his crotch. She tipped his head back with the edge of her nail beneath his jaw and leaned in close, exhaling beside his jaw. Seeing an opportunity, Agent Miller tried to kick her, jutting his knee up because it wasn’t restrained. She stopped him quickly, forcing him back into the chair, not missing a beat. His breath caught in his throat and he nearly choked on it. Her hand wrapped around his throat and squeezed but not harshly. His skin was warm beneath her hand and she smiled, her white teeth flashing.

She pressed her knee sharply into his thigh, holding his leg down, and slid it closer to the top of his crotch. She chuckled softly when she felt the outline of his cock inside his pants with the side of her thigh. Agent Miller’s body tensed below her, his hands folding into fists as he exhaled sharply.

“Aw does this hurt?” She cooed as she dug her knee further into the flesh of his thigh. His jaw tightened as she teased him. Moving closer, she rested both knees between his thighs, forcing them against the arms and pinning them in place. Suddenly she was so close and her thighs were pressing against his stomach…

How was it that he was getting an erection from this shit-show? How could she get this reaction out of him so fucking quickly? He tried to even out his breath as she shifted in the seat, her hands trailing up his chest to the knot of his tie.

“What did you drug me with?” Agent Miller muttered. Strands of her hair brushed against his cheeks.

“You don’t have to resist it, Agent Miller.” She ran her hands down his sides beneath his dark blue suit jacket. His body was full and firm, and warm. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she whispered against his forehead.

“What did you put in my drink…” he repeated, his voice wavering in strength as her hand moved down his stomach to the front of his pants. His erection was pronounced and visible, pushing against the fly of his trousers. She must have given him something, something to get this response. He wasn’t even that turned on. He sighed, frustrated and mad. He turned his head to the side, avoiding her soft lips.

“You think I have to drug you to get this kind of response? Silly boy,” she slid off of his lap and sat on the edge of the couch in front of him. She crossed her legs at first and allowed her eyes to trail up his body like a man would to a woman. Agent Miller stared back, his blue eyes hard. She giggled and reached up her skirt, hooking her hands under her pantyhose and pulled it down her thighs. She rolled the pantyhose slowly down her calves and slipped it off her feet. Despite his best efforts, Agent Miller watched her closely, studying the way she pushed the pantyhose to the side with her foot.

“I prefer genuine responses, it helps with my ego,” she broke the silence and watched with a sly smile as Agent Miller swallowed. With a sigh she stood and leaned over the CIA agent, her hands gripped around the arm rests. “Are you embarrassed? The high and mighty CIA agent succumbing so quickly to someone like me?” She teased him sharply, a glint of malice behind her bright eyes. “Tell me, Agent Miller. You’re thinking about me… you want me to touch you more. You want to see what I could do to you.”

Agent Miller cocked his head slightly and sighed, pretending to be disinterested. Y/N grabbed his face, her fingers digging into either side of his jaw. When she kissed him, he exhaled, almost relieved. He kissed her back, forgetting himself and liking the way she tasted, the way her lips felt in his mouth. She pulled his face closer to hers, still hovering above him. She kissed him feverishly and he followed blindly, distracted by the pleasure found in each movement her lips made against his. Then as quickly as it had started, she pulled away and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Some of her lipstick was smudged across his mouth but he couldn’t tell. He was breathing heavily, his lips pulled apart so that he could catch his breath. She took a few steps back and grabbed a file from a nearby table. She flipped it open and turned the pages until she landed on the right one. She held the folder open in one hand and with the other she began to unbutton her blouse from the top down.

Agent Miller felt his cock throb as he watched her shrug off the silky blouse and drape it over the arm of the couch. When she turned he could see her black t-shirt bra fitted perfectly against her breasts. Her collarbones rose and fell as she breathed and Agent Miller nearly groaned. She read aloud from the file as she moved back to the chair.

“My records tell me that the last number of confirmed nuclear weapons in the American arsenal was 27,000. It’s been half a decade since that information was released to the Soviet Union. What is that number now?” She straddled his lap slowly, smoothing out her skirt over their legs. Agent Miller moved his eyes from her breasts to her face, trying to keep his face straight as he felt the woman’s hand unbuckle his belt.

“I can’t tell you that,” he managed as she played with the zipper of his fly, her fingers dancing over the hard bulge.

“Has the number grown?” She offered and slid her hand below his waistband. Her hand grazed the patch of his pubic hair before she reached his cock. He shivered and looked up at the ceiling of the hotel room. “More?” She asked softly as she wrapped her fingers around his erection, it was hot and wet in her hand. He was so sensitive already that he groaned softly when she touched him. She squeezed him softly and freed the hard length from his pants. She rubbed her hand up and down. Agent Miller panted softly as she masturbated him. His eyes snapped open and he watched her, their eyes locked.

“Has the number changed?” She asked again softly as the agent clenched his jaw.

“I can’t tell you that,” He fought the words out as her hand sped up.

“Are there less? Has the US been involved in a trade agreement for its nuclear weapons?” She pushed, her hand moving faster.

“Fuck…” Agent Miller panted as her grip tightened around him. His cheeks deepened with color and his chest shook as his climax built. Just as he felt like he was about to cum, Y/N pulled her hand away and clucked her tongue.

“You’re going to make this very hard on yourself,” she observed and smiled as she watched him pant. He was completely erect beneath her skirt, resting against her bare thigh. They stared at each other as he caught his breath. She snapped the folder closed and tossed it to the side, sighing impatiently.

“Who has the US traded with in the past year?” She asked, her hands holding his thighs down.

“That is public information. You don’t need me to tell you that.”

“I want you to tell me about the trade deals you haven’t made public,” she loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top two buttons. “Which countries have illegal trade agreements with the US?” She added before kissing his neck, sucking on the soft flesh until she started to make hickeys. With her freehand she held his cock still as she lowered herself onto his head. She moved her hips slowly up and down and pulled away to look at his face. His adam's apple quivered in his throat as she moved on top of him.

“I-I can’t-fuck,” he gasped softly as she started to shift her hips over his lap, taking him deeper, “I can’t tell you that.”

“Come on, Agent Miller,” she whispered against his ear, “be a good boy for me,” she smirked. “Does it feel good? Is this harder than torture?” She teased him as her hips sped up, rocking back and forth. Agent Miller moaned softly as she held his face to face her. His mouth was agape in pleasure as she began to bounce slightly, falling hard on his cock. He grunted as she went faster, moaning theatrically against his lips which she refused to kiss.

“Do you want to cum, Agent Miller?” She whispered against his lips, her tongue touching his bottom lip with a flourish.

“Fuck…” he panted again.

“Can you cum for me?” She purred and Agent Miller nodded weakly, his eyes now closed. She smiled and pretended to pant, coaxing another deep moan from the man’s throat. “Has the US been sending nuclear weapons to West Germany?” She asked, raising herself up and holding him inside her. He weakly tried to thrust but she held him down.

“Y/N…” he whispered, his brows furrowed in frustration.

She snapped her hips down, taking him in again and hugging his cock. He gasped as his stomach tightened. He was going to cum.

“Has the US been sending nuclear weapons to West Germany?” She repeated sternly, not moving on his cock as the wave of climax started to dissipate again.

“I can’t fucking tell you that-fuck,” he growled when she moved her hips very slowly.

“But you can tell me, Agent Miller, and if you do, I’ll let you cum,” she stroked his cheek and kissed his jaw feverishly. “I want you to cum. Fuck, I want you to cum inside me too.” She whispered against his neck. When he resisted saying anything she pulled herself off and backed away towards the bed in the room beside them. Agent Miller watched her, his chest rising and falling quickly. Still watching him, she slid her leather skirt off, showing that she had no underwear on underneath. He felt like he might explode just by the sight of her.

“Jesus…” he groaned and let his head fall back against the back of the chair. He couldn’t help himself but look back as she undid her bra and dropped it to the floor. Standing completely naked, she laid back on the bed and propped herself up on her elbows.

“If you won’t cum, I’ll just have to finish myself off,” she sighed and trailed her fingers up her thigh to her cunt, wet from sex. “It just never feels as good.” She rubbed her fingers over her clit over and over again until she felt an orgasm grow. She curled her toes and bit her lip, grinding against her own hand. Agent Miller knew that he could look away but the scene was just too much to ignore. He watched as she arched her back and twisted her hips, reacting to the sensitivity of her clit. Her eyes danced below her eyelids as she thought up fantasies to fuel her climax. Rubbing harder, she started to moan softly and quivered. Agent Miller pulled at the handcuffs, struggling to remain calm as he watched her touch herself. As her orgasm finally arrived, she collapsed back onto the mattress and caught her breath.

“Enough,” Agent Miller sneered from the chair, still erect and horny. “At least get me out of these so I can fuck you the right way.”

Y/N smiled and hopped off of the bed, her tits bouncing slightly as she did.

“You want to fuck me, Agent Miller?” She leaned close to his face again. He stared back at her, his jaw set.

“Let’s get it over with,” he answered nonchalantly and she tilted his jaw up but didn’t kiss him. She undid the handcuffs around his wrists and he sprang to his feet, grabbing at her body. He kissed her feverishly, lapping at her mouth with his tongue hungrily. She pushed off his suit jacket and unbuttoned his shirt as he slipped off his shoes and pants. They didn’t have time to remove his shirt before he entered her. He took hold of her hips to pull her closer and wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her close to his chest. She clawed her hands down his dress shirt, her knees high on either side of his waist. She moaned loudly and he studied the way she opened her mouth to do it, mesmerized by the way she reacted to him inside of her.

“Good boy,” she praised him when he sped up, hitting her G-spot. She reached her hand down between their bodies and rubbed at her clit, coaxing a stronger orgasm.

“Don’t touch yourself,” Agent Miller ordered, short of breath, “let me do it.” He massaged her clit himself, his large hands covering the front of her cunt. Her mouth fell open into a loud gasp as he synchronized his thrusts to the way he rubbed her clit.

“Fuck,” he exhaled tightly as he felt her flex around him.

“Keep going,” she wrapped her fingers around his neck and pulled him closer to her face, their mouths exchanging exhales, “fuck me right.”

He kissed her deeply as he moaned, the muscles in his back tightening beneath her nails. She was so tight and wet, he nearly came just thinking about it as he moved. She carded her fingers through his hair and pulled as he chased their peaking climax. He was grunting now as she began to finish around him, shaking without much control. He moved his hands back to her hips and rocked himself deep inside of her as he brought on his orgasm. He came inside of her with loud grunts, thrusting until he’d finished completely. Only when he was done did he pull out and collapse beside her on the elegant duvet. He panted loudly, exhausted. They remained in silence until Y/N rolled over, putting her lips close to his ear.

“You know, I didn’t have to ask you all those questions. I already know the answers.” Her voice was serious and cold, Agent Miller eyed her.

“Then why did you ask?”

“I wanted to see you tied down,” she answered calmly. He raised his eyebrow and scoffed just before the sting of a cold, sterilized needle pinched his neck. Then he quickly went to sleep.

When he awoke, he found himself alone in the hotel room. Everything had been returned to normal and the place scrubbed for fingerprints. And she was gone. She’d gotten away again.

[staiyn]

more memes of Cillian Characters

[1544cimn]

Wanted to draw this little Perry with a pride flag sketch for all those rad LGBTQ+ individuals out there!

Have a Happy Pride Month and keep doing you😎

[id-have-2-nickels]

I'm sorry what in the Agents of SHIELD is going on here?

what do you mean Ming-Na Wen and Brett Dalton are voicing a secret agent duo and I'm only realizing this now???

[kaira-diaries]

Pistol:

Note: one shot is also available on Wattpad under my account Kairadiaries for those who prefer it. Also, there will be multiple parts to this one shot so bear with me !!

Warning: violence / death / blood / gun use & language

Pairing: Javi x f!character

Summary: You are the daughter of Pablo Escobar's business partner, and your life takes an uncomfortable turn when you're thrown into your first task.

••••

Pablo was evident in his tone as he held a pistol to your father's head. You should have seen it coming when Papa refused the drug lord's offer. The rules in this world were simple: saying no was something you just didn't do. The fright had set in when your father's eyes had watered. He knew that his daughter was the next best thing when he was reluctant to serve his boss, and he'd kept up his ends of constructed deals for years until now. It wasted no time driving you conflicted in trying to spell out the type of father he was. Isn't a parent meant to throw themselves in front of a bus to keep their child alive? You'd sure think so. Your Papa knew you wanted no part in this game of illegal activities, and it left your relationship upside-down.

The fright surfaced from an unknown depth in your gut. It wasn't from the threat on your father's life or the uncharacteristic alarm on his wilting features. Your Papa didn't fear much; when he did, it was for a damn good reason or because he had done something absurd. You concluded that was the cause of his fear, the realization that he'd refused the most powerful drug lord in the country, and now the weight of the task was thrown on your skinny shoulders. Now, that is the reason for your own fear. Your first task. From what you learned in the mansion, they weren't called missions; that sounded too... civil, especially when Pablo's overall objective is anything but civilized.

All eyes were on you as you stood with your arms by your side, your back drenched in sweat from the Colombian heat. The smell of cigarettes and liquor poisoned your nostrils. Pablo had asked for your response, cocking the silver gun in his palm, earning a flinch from your father in return. You only nodded, your back stiff like iron and your mouth too sand-dry to compose words. The man was terrifying. It drew more attention than you had hoped, enabling Pablo to tread across the corridor floor. His men swiftly moved out of his way and watched as he leaned in.

"You will not fail." He ordered, his mustache danced as his demand left his lips. You leaned back as his breath invaded your surroundings while his eyes skated across your figure. For an odd reason, you felt this task was the most important. It felt like a one-chance-only ordeal. You fail; it's over. You nodded once more as your drug lord whispered a promise of death on you and your father if you were to fall.

You didn't want this, but it wasn't up to you, so you did what you were told. The task was "simple": get close to the renowned Javier Pena, the DEA's most critical agent, find intel, and report back.

-

Flung out of a taxi with a pair of apartment keys and a rugged suitcase, you found yourself on the streets of Bogota. The lights were bright as you took in the surrounding buildings. The addresses nailed into the bricked foundations didn't correspond to the keychain you pulled from your pocket, and you started on your journey into the crowded city streets.

You've never walked this far before; living in Pablo's mansion meant chauffeurs and free rides across the beautiful Colombian countryside, among other things. You had to admit that living a life you wanted nothing to do with had perks. Bending over to regrip the hold on your suitcase, people parted for you, and men whistled your way. You excused it as the ache in your legs grew but overlooked it as quickly as you saw the salsa dancing across the street. It would have been a dancer if you could have been anything in this world. You even took lessons when you were just a girl and were at the top of the echelon. You crossed the street, approaching the crowd, smiling at the beautiful lady in red with wonderous joy on her face. Her partner spins her flawlessly on cue with the music. He was handsome, with brown eyes, brown hair, and pleasant tan skin, everything you find enchanting. His smile was ravishing under the lights. You could have sworn it was love at first sight, though you've never experienced such a distinguishing thing. Love at first sight? Unexplored. Your heart leaped until you recalled why you were here, and you forced your legs to move as you passed the crowd and continued to look for the apartment.

An hour passed until you found the apartment; it was a peaceful street with quiet road and foot traffic. The sun had set, allowing a cool breeze to blow through your chocolate brown locks. The stars lit the sky and reflected in your eyes as you took in the atmosphere. The sounds of the trees swaying, the bugs croaking, and laughter ringing through the distance. It was a calming aura, and you made your way up the stairs, holding the railing to keep your weary legs from crumpling. Shutting the main door behind you, a poorly lit hallway welcomes you. The light above flickered every few seconds, supported by the warm glow of a lamp from down the hall. You located your door virtually a juncture later. The second door from the entrance, apartment number two, sat waiting for you. The number was hammered into the paint-chipped door, and you skated your fingers across the cold material. The hard key slipped into the door knob, and you slid into the apartment. It was adequate. A step down from the mansion, but you'd perform your magic and make it a hospitable home. At a quick glance, you already knew what could be accomplished with it.

Unpacking was a chore, though you were wonderfully surprised that your drug lord picked out stunning garments. In exploring the apartment, you found the kitchen stocked with all types of food, but your hand twitched, seeing a note in one of the drawers. It read...

Javier is in apartment one; his schedule is 8:30-5. Meet him, talk to him, fuck him, force your way into his life for all I care. Find intel, get him to lean on you, and report back.

You will not fail.

Pablo.

His parting words sent an electric chill down your spine, and you relied on the sink behind you to keep you from plunging. You were beautiful but no good at flirtation. What scared you most was receiving no interest. You wouldn't know what to do if that happened.

You jerked the worry from your figure and settled on venturing out for dinner. With a sweater in hand and your keys in the other, you shut your apartment door behind you, ignorant of the presence beside you.

"You're a new face." A velvety voice called. Your chin drew in the direction of a man with brown eyes and brown hair with pleasant tan skin. You blinked, the only sign of surprise you allowed as you remembered him from earlier. The loverboy looked happier than ever in the arms of the woman in red. It was a bittersweet feeling, and your heart drooped with sadness. This is the man you must trick. His golden key fit snugly in the door marked by the number one, and his smile remained secure. You cleared your throat.

"Just moved in, actually." You returned the grin and introduced yourself. He did the same, his large hand engulfing yours in a shake. The ring on his middle finger countered the warmth of his skin. "What a beautiful ring," you praised. He retracted his hand, fidgeting with the golden iron, his eyes scrutinizing it. "Heirloom," he shrugged. You broke from a trance you didn't comprehend, stepping back and gripping your bag that swung on your arm. "Um," you began, biting your cheek, earning an amused chuckle. You were still determining where to go with this exchange. "I was just on my way to get some dinner, but I'm not too sure where I should go. Any suggestions?"

He grins, "yeah," he says, popping his gum between his sparkling teeth, and shakes his brown-haired head. "I know a place." He stares down at his watch to read the time, though you can't help but notice the faint singular scar that just showed below his hairline. It was a peculiar shape. Javier peeked back at you, nodding his head toward the door. "I'll lead the way." You'd turn a man down to protect your life in a normal situation. Your Papa always said to never trust a soul; You guess that's why you're here in the first place.

You blink back to reality. Javier holds the apartment complex door for you, allowing you to go first, and shuts it behind him. Walking down the steps, you didn't realize the trek to the restaurant would be spent in mere silence, but when you came upon the sweet cantina, the smell of food brought you to life. Walking behind Javier to the table, you couldn't restrain yourself from observing how the jeans fit his behind; the denim hugged him perfectly as he paired it with a black leather jacket, red shirt, and brown boots. It was intriguing. As you sat down, other women across the restaurant appeared to consider the same as they gaped and gossiped with each other. Javier offered a flirtatious wink and settled into his seat.

"Do you get that a lot?" You asked. He shook his jacket off, revealing tan solid arms. "More than you know." You searched for jest in his voice, then realized he was entirely serious. Before things got too awkward, the waitress approached your table, offering specials and suggestions for the night. You settled for one of the steak specials. Javier went for the chicken.

"So, what brings you to one of the most dangerous cities in Colombia?" You nearly bite your cheek, thinking up an answer. "Family baggage," you respond. His brow raises, asking for more. "My husband was abusive. I ran from America to Colombia looking for my father." Your drinks arrive and are placed directly in front of the two of you. Your mouth watered at the sight of yours. Taking a generous sip, you continue, "Safe to say, I found him. He took me in and gave me a safe place to heal and just...take a breath." You took a deep breath. You weren't lying, at least not regarding your baggage. You sat back with your legs crossed as Javier took it in. "I'm sorry." He replied. You shrugged your shoulders.

"What about you?" You asked, beginning to move in the direction of getting intel. He clicks his tongue, "I'm here for work. Was transferred over from the States. Other than that, I just eat, sleep, and fuck." You nearly choked on your drink as your teeth clashed against the rim of the glass. Javier just raised his glass, making a toast with a feline smirk. "Why were you transferred to Colombia?" He set his drink down on the table, studying how the water droppings ran down the cold body of the glass. "Things got bad here." He released a long breath, "I wasn't really needed in the States." You shook your head, understanding. "What is it you do?" You pushed; he glimpsed up at you, those brown eyes searching for falsehood. You batted your lashes, projecting innocence. "I work in the drug enforcement agency." He leaned forward, his shoulders purchasing the table. His lips had just parted when your plates of food arrived. You wondered what he planned to say, but you raised a brow at how he thanked the waitress. It must have been how the pet name Sugar rubbed you erroneously.

You hadn't wasted any time digging into your food. You groaned with satisfaction from the spiced potatoes that excited your tongue. The cumin and pepper invited you to stack more onto your fork, and the smell of steak traveled deliciously through the air. It was a meal you've eaten countless times in Pablo's mansion, though this time it felt different. You found yourself savoring the food, savoring the atmosphere you were in. It was disencumbered by the stench of death that had hovered over your shoulder. You could still remember the screams of pain that echoed through the halls as you laid your head on your silk pillow every night.

"So," He said, taking a bite of chicken. "What's your profession then?" You chewed on your upper lip, thinking. "I own a bookstore." You replied. It wasn't true, but gosh, was it your dream? You earned a warm smile from Javier, and he swallowed his mouthful of food. It was a dashing smile, accompanied by his amiable dimples that could weaken anyone in the knees. His eyes hadn't broken away from yours, and you could feel the heat in your cheeks grow. You felt awkward. No one had ever looked at you like that. Being your father's daughter was enough to scare any man away. It was comical to consider the effect Javier already had on you. You only just encountered him an hour ago, and sitting here now, you had almost forgotten your objective and why you were here. You broke the contact, looking down at your lap. You had a job and wouldn't allow your fantasies to get the best of you.

The two of you finished your dinners and exchanged small talk before your waitress returned to leave the check. Javier snatched it before you even thought, though you insisted on covering the tip. He smirked, giving in to your pleas, and the two of you slid out of the booth. It felt like a long walk home. The feeling of being watched never left your side. You were aware of the fact that Pablo had his men watching. The haunted feeling was enough to know. You did your best to school your features as you walked beside Javier. What nearly turned your stomach was that his face revealed he knew something was wrong, too. You should have known; he's a DEA agent. He's built with instincts as strong as a bloodhound. Turning the corner, the two of you found yourselves out front of your apartment complex; you stumbled when you found Javier at the bottom of the staircase. Your brow rose, "Aren't you coming in?"

He shook his head, "Nah, I've got some work to do." He scanned his surroundings once more. "Sleep well, I'll see you around." He finished his goodbye with your name, took his truck keys from his back pocket, and disappeared around the corner. You read your watch. It was too late to be doing any kind of work. You had to follow him out of pure curiosity and to collect potential intel, and that's what you found yourself doing when your legs began to move, carrying you swiftly down the stairs and in the direction of the DEA agent.

Turning the corner led you onto a street of darkness. There was a lack of street lights; the further you went, the less you could see. The thought of turning back was plaguing your mind until your eyes spotted a leather jacket. Jumping behind the nearest brick wall of a corner shop, you leaned out, focusing down the street. There, he was in front of what seemed to be a brothel with another man, but you couldn't make out his features and had to get closer. You shifted back behind the wall. You were afraid. There was too much on the line to be caught.

You couldn't risk jeopardizing a potential relationship between you and Javier. The thought made your back spineless as you closed your eyes and took deep breaths. This hardly seemed fair. You have nearly no field experience. Your job was to be seen, not heard, and you liked it. You didn't particularly want to be involved with criminal activity directly; this life requires responsibilities too big to handle with an extensive price. You rubbed your sweaty palms against your jeans and ran a hand through your hair. You could do this. You had to do this. Fluttering your lashes, you brought yourself to peek into the corner again. The two men had their backs turned towards you. Now was your chance, and you got moving. Keeping your eyes on them, there was a newsstand, empty but able to keep you hidden from sight. You sped up, crouching and listening to the men's conversation.

You got bits and pieces, but there was mention of a raid led by the Colonel, who you assumed to be the one standing directly beside Javier. He had a handsome backside, covered in a nude color from head to toe. His hair was black and cut in precise detail. They spoke of Pablo's location and that the Colonel would lead his men. You took note of the area of the raid, putting it in the back of your head for later, and got out of there as quickly as possible. With this information, you could alert Pablo, and he could pull his men before the DEA arrived, giving them another dead end and the loss of another reliable source.

Arriving back at the complex, you relished in the relief of the street lights above. You felt safe and headed inside, shutting the door behind you. Hopping on the couch, you pulled some ice cream from the freezer. It was your favorite flavor, no doubt an influence from your father. Maybe even an apology. Fuck any type of apology he'd try to make. When you moved to Colombia and learned of his profession, you asked for a chance at a simple life. Jake sure as hell never gave you one. You rubbed the faded proof on the skin of your arm. It was a scar, a knife wound. At least, you had thought. Being young, you felt that blacking out from alcohol was a successful experience of the reckless twenties. Believe it or not, you wanted that. You liked it with your best friends. You figured that the last shred of innocent youth had died when you blacked out and woke on the floor of your living room wearing nothing but bruises and freshly made scars. You hadn't thought of blacking out the same. Your husband only sat in the chair across from you, complaining about how long you had to regain consciousness.

So yeah, you wanted peace.

The choice was taken from you. Without your father, you'd be on the streets of Colombia, innocent to criminals, bored of the everyday routine. It was either this life or ending up on the roads, and deciding to run would have been for nothing.

Apologies mean nothing to you these days.

You grabbed the remote, turning the TV on to a soap opera, quickly disturbed by a knock at the door. You groaned, just kicking your feet up on the couch. Standing up, you threw the door open and looked down, finding a boy. Pablo's boy. A messenger. "Xolo?" Your brow rose as the boy smiled. Opening the door wider, you allowed him to come in.

"How about some ice cream for you long journey? It's cookie dough?" He jumped up and down, sitting at your kitchen island. Xolo was a parculiar boy. He was reticent and only said what needed to be said. Guess that's why Pablo likes him so much. You gave him the pint and let him sit and watch TV. He might work for Pablo, but he's still just a boy, and you've always treated him as such.

Sitting at the table, you encrypted your message, just as you were taught by your father, and sealed it safely. Xolo shook your shoulder a moment later, and you shifted in your chair, offering the intel and a hug. "Get back safe, okay?" You said, pulling back and pinching his chin. Your heart indeed went out to the boy. Pablo had done awful things to his parents once he'd seen potential in Xolo and wanted to use it. You knew then that Pablo would stop at nothing to get what he wants. Nothing will get in his way, not even family.

It had been a couple of days after Xolo journeyed back to Pablo's. You received a call last night from him with praise and satisfaction for your intel. Pablo hadn't shared what he'd do with it, but perhaps you'd soon hear in the news.

Rolling out of bed, you stalked to the kitchen for some breakfast but paused with one foot in the living room. You stared around briefly, thinking of ways to freshen up the apartment. It's then you got the idea. Flowers always brighten a room; if you'll live here for a while, why not make it a cozy home.

You hop in the shower quickly after some breakfast and wash up for the day. You'd ultimately decide on a denim skirt with a tight, long-sleeve v-neck. You were going to the nearest flower shop with some makeup and a light scarf. You had a map in hand to direct you, and usually, you'd be embarrassed, but a bouquet sounded too sweet even to care what others thought.

Walking through the crowd, you noted how the streets were filled. Families, hand in hand, were around everywhere you looked. The pure joy in their eyes was so beautiful that you could have sat on the nearest bench to watch. You continued to walk, though, as a bitter taste in your mouth presented itself. Working for the man who planned to fill these streets with a fatal drug was a hard pill to swallow. Making a right turn, you found the corner flower shop, small and empty, with baskets of flowers decorating the outside. Your neck carried your head from left to right to adore the decorations. It was appealing and welcoming. The sweet smell already filled your nostrils as you pushed the door open. Your brown shoes carried you across the store; the floor creaked with every step until you found a bouquet to your liking. Babies' breath and pink dahlias bloomed, tickling your skin as you select the cluster. You knew it'd look lovely in your favorite vase adorning the dining table. Swinging your bag to the front of your waist, you pulled your planner from the black leather to mark your to-do list. It was something you began to grow fond of. You found comfort in the consistency and organization that distracted you from the unpredictable.

The cashier took you in head to toe as you turned to her. Little did you know, she read you correctly as a homely girl.

With the bouquet placed gently on the counter, you pulled out your wallet.

"This is our least popular bouquet." She examined it and picked it up for wrapping. "In my opinion, it's our most beautiful. It ought to be popular." She offered the warmest smile. You clicked your tongue, "Not many people look past the red rose." She nodded. You examined her in-depth for a moment. Considering the fine lines that populated her face, you smiled and handed her your cash.

Though, before she could take it, she paused, and the screams echoing down the street were enough to tell you why.

You pivoted, scurrying across the floor to stare out the window, and what you found shook you to the core. Your jaw slowly fell, parting your lips as you saw that kaki-wearing man bloodied in the middle of the street. His expression revealed shock and anger as he fell to the ground, riddled with bullets.

That's when the realization kicked in, and you stepped back from the glass window into a pair of hands that gripped your shoulders. "Oh dear, don't look at that." She spun you around, pulling you behind the counter into the door of her office. You nearly fell into the chair, realizing what you've done.

The intel you gave Xolo massacred that man.

His blood is on your hands; you sold him out; you killed him.

"These things always happen, dearie." She poured you a glass of water. Handing it to you, she continued, "But to those who aren't used to it, well." She offered a sad smile that didn't reach her eyes. It suggested this town expected nothing less.

Your trembling hand took the glass, and you muttered a thank you, left with a pit at the bottom of your stomach.

[mst3kgifs]

I am insinuating, suh, that this man is a fraud and a liar! He has nevuh made a pie crust in his life!

[a-tale-never-told]

And then Agent Murphy is hit with the reveal that the White House got bugged by the Anons. That must be a shock assuming he is American.

Yeah, that was an absolute shock to his face indeed. He fainted after hearing that.

[thedailyplatypics]

He has such a way with words.