#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 🤤🤤🤤

[chio-chan2artbox]

They were always married but they didn’t know

[hamable]

Mr. And Mrs. Gukgak

[holybagelsstuff]

Yep. Agent Murphy, a female Agent.

She's Kate Middleton's lookalike, so yeah her photos = Murphy's photos lol

I don't have any kind of background for her (does she need one? She's a tool) but I assume there are two other female Agents who work alongside her.

FOR MATRIX COMMUNITY

Hiiiii

Do you have any Matrix OC/SONA/Self Insert ??????

Please let's share !

You can reglog to show us your matrix characters 💚

I'd like to know if anyone else has any !

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

Don't Ruin It | Agent Lenny Miller x fem!Reader

summary: Sexual tension comes to a head (literally) when a younger female agent (you) makes a move on her superior agent, Lenny Miller, after a successful undercover mission.

warnings: Infidelity, power-imbalance, hazy consent, praise and dubious humiliation, smut.

word count: 3,300k

ONE SHOT! Who would’ve guessed…

Taking What's Not Yours- TV Girl 🎶

That's so True- Gracie Abrams 🎵

You were partners. Partners. And he was married. Married. There were so many fucking ethical reasons why you shouldn’t but damn it all, you did. 

“I need your wire,” Agent Lenny Miller said over his shoulder as he sorted the equipment back into their cases. Your heart was still racing from the conclusion of your mission, your body was thrumming with adrenaline. You turned to face the hotel mirror and unzipped the back of your dress. When he was done with his brief task, Miller turned and after a moment of hesitation, approached you slowly. He clenched his jaw as he brushed the zipper away so that he could reach the mic-pack secured to the band of your bra. His pale fingers lingered an extra moment longer on the bare skin above and below the clasp as he pulled the pack off. He blinked his heavy eyelashes slowly, wetting his lips as he followed the wire up your back to your ear. His finger trailed over your skin, pretending to hold to the wire as his eyes glanced up to meet yours in the mirror. You removed the mic from your ear and turned back slowly to hand it to him. Miller looked down at you, still holding the pack, his heart racing too but his eyes deadly calm, keeping a level head just like a good agent would. Staring for a moment at the mic-pack, Miller finally exhaled slowly and nodded, taking the mic pack and wire. He switched the device off and looked back down at you again, face-to-face. 

You were a young agent, fresh out of training with an expertise in languages. Agent Lenny Miller was a senior agent, a typical dark, brooding type with attitude issues and a soft-spot for intelligent women. He was always arrogant, but it was because he was always right. God, it was so fucking infuriating. When he wasn’t smiling (which was most of the time), you could barely make out the beginnings of crows’ feet at each outside corner of his eyes. He was in his mid-forties, married with a son. He wasn’t technically your boss but that didn’t make it any more ethical. These were just the things you told yourself as he continued to look down at you with his pale blue eyes. 

He was standing with his feet shoulder-length apart and his jaw still painfully clenched. You reached around to the back of your dress and unzipped it all the way, your chest rising and falling quickly. Miller inhaled deeply as he saw what you were doing. Your black dress slowly slipped down your body to pool at your feet. He let himself look down at your body, covered only by your underwear. He stepped closer, just half a step, his lips falling open as he looked down at your lips. You rose onto the balls of your feet, offering your mouth but he inhaled sharply again and ran his hand over his mouth. 

Miller stepped back and turned. He walked to an armchair in the hotel room and sat down on the edge of the seat, his hands steepled. 

“Len-” you started but he held up a hand to stop you. 

“Shhh, don’t ruin it, don’t ruin it” he whispered gently and looked you over again from the chair across the room. You stood silently in your underwear for a moment until you felt brave enough to move your arms to undo your hair. Your hair fell around your shoulders and you ran your fingers through it, picking out the knots quickly. Once that was done, you looked back at the man and asked him point-blank. 

“Is it your wife?”

“Don’t ask me about her, Y/N.” He responded calmly, his hand still resting against his lips as he stared at you. You raise your chin slightly and inch closer until you're right in front of him. He looks up at you in appreciative silence, like he’s at an art gallery or the symphony. He lets you step between his knees and run your hands down the back of his head starting from the crown. His eyes close slowly and he sighs as your hands stroke his dark hair. 

“If only you knew…” you whispered as your other hand slid down his cheek. Agent Miller’s eyes opened and he smiled softly, leaning into your hand. 

“Know what?”

“How much I want you,” you answered breathlessly, your heart fluttering beyond beating. Miller chuckled in discomfort and inner turmoil. He shook his head and leaned back in the chair, out of reach of your hand. 

“You know as well as I do that we can’t do this, Y/L/N.” 

“Don’t talk like that.” You responded cooly, taking a step back as he watched you, his eyes helplessly trailing over your body. Miller leaned his chin against his closed hand, wetting his lips again as you put more distance between you. You could make out the half-hard bulge in his trousers that he tried to ignore. You two stared at each other for a minute on end, neither speaking as your eyes spoke to your individual desires. Finally, Miller sighed and reached out his hand, palm up and beckoning. 

“C’mere.”

His voice was gentle but sure, as if there were absolutely no hesitation behind his request. You waited another moment before finally stepping back between his legs. His arms opened, inviting you to sit on his lap. You sat on his upper thigh, within the cage of his arms. Miller used his other hand to pull your legs across his lap, so that you were sitting completely across his legs like a child. His open hand rubbed up and down your thigh furthest away from his chest, slipping all the way down to your calf. You looked down at him and exhaled shakily. 

“I-” he started but you pressed a finger against his lips, shushing him gently but firmly. 

“Don’t ruin it.” 

He smirked softly behind your finger and looked at your lips as you moved your head close to his. You dropped your finger and held the curve of his jaw instead, brushing your lips against his. The short stubble on his jaw tickled your fingers as you pushed them down his throat. His hand moved to hook around your waist and his lips fell open, responding to your tease. You exhaled shakily again, this time against his lips before finally kissing him. The kiss was so soft that your lips barely touched, barely moved. He looked up into your face, exhaling tightly before pulling you closer once again. You kissed again and just as softly as before. When you pulled away, you stared at each other in tense silence, the world around you was shrill like a static that separated you two from the rest of the world. 

“Do you want to stop?” You whispered, looking between his blue eyes and his button nose. He briefly pressed a finger against your lips, dismissing your question, before kissing you again. His kiss was harder, stronger, as if he’d finally made up his mind without saying so: he was going to fuck you because damn it, he wanted you so badly. His teeth caught your bottom lip and you moaned against him as your fingers found the buttons of his collared shirt. The process was slow but expertly coordinated as if you already knew each other’s bodies as well as your own. You unbuttoned his shirt, slowly revealing his undershirt once each button slipped out of its eyelet hold. He wore the same undershirts that your dad used to wear beneath his dress shirts, the ones he wore to work, the similarity brought a strange sense of comfort as your hands felt the fabric beneath your hands. 

Miller pulled you to straddle his lap so that you were completely facing him on your knees. You rested your butt on his legs, waiting patiently until his shirt and undershirt were completely removed. He held his arms over his head so that you could pull the shirt away from his bare skin. Agent Lenny Miller was by no means a largely muscular man, he’d left his field days behind him, but he was still fit, still lean and handsome. His arms were still muscular and you could feel the tension of his muscles every time he moved them around you. You sat back, ending your kiss for a moment so that you could look down at his bare chest. His pectoral muscles were tight and defined, his stomach shallow and taught. There was a dusting of freckles across his pale chest and a thin line of dark hair beneath his bellybutton. You pressed your hand against his lower stomach and felt the muscle meet your hand as it tensed. He laid his hands on the chair’s armrests and watched you with a calm expression on his face. 

You slipped off his lap and opened his legs so that you could kneel between them. He ran his hand over his lips as he watched you, his eyes glued to you. You placed your hands on his knees and rose for a moment longer so that you could run your tongue across his collarbones. You dragged your tongue up his sternum, up to his throat, and ended at his jaw with a gentle nip. He shook once beneath you and groaned softly, so quietly that you barely heard it. When you returned to the place between his knees, his lips fell open in a helpless way, as if he were stuck in a trance. When his pants were undone, you ran your hand over his now-very-hard-cock and looked up into his eyes. 

“Go on then,” he whispered, smirking softly as if he were joking. You smiled and pulled down his boxers just enough to find his erection. When it sprang free, he groaned audibly and leaned his head back for a moment. You rolled your tongue around the head slowly, relishing the taste of his precum, showing you just how much he wanted you too. Your hand gripped his shaft and squeezed gently, making him jerk his hips. He cursed beneath his breath as you moved your mouth farther onto his cock. You sucked softly, just wanting to prep him, not to make him cum. His hands tightened on the armrests, his nails digging into the red leather upholstery. You took his cock as far as you could without gagging and rolled your tongue before bobbing up and down. 

“Ah fuck, girl. Slow, slow” he praised gently and closed his eyes as you sucked. When you could hear the distinct sounds of masculine whimpers, you stopped and looked back up at him. Miller exhaled tightly and ran his hand over your hair, fixing how it fell at the side of your face. His hand dropped to your shoulder and played with the soft skin there before pulling one of your bra straps off of your shoulder. You waited as he did the same to the other strap. He sighed as you stood slowly and stepped backwards towards the hotel bed, never used. Miller removed the last of his clothes and followed you slowly, his hand reaching out for your body. You let him pull you closer and kissed him as he felt for the clasp of your bra. He undid it easily and pulled it off of your arms so that he could feel your breasts. He nearly growled as he squeezed your breasts, feeling the hard nipple between his fingers. Miller picked you up easily and laid you back on the bed. He took your knees and pulled them apart so that he could stand between them. Still kissing you, he fit his hands beneath the bands of your thongs on your hips. His hands rubbed back and forth on your love-handles, in no rush to take off your underwear. 

“Turn over, agent Y/L/N,” he muttered against your lips. 

You nodded slowly, your lips starting to feel swollen and hot. You flipped over onto your stomach and felt his hands cup your butt before pulling down your underwear. He pulled them down your knees, over your calves, and off your ankles. 

“Look at you. Good girl…” he whispered and tossed the underwear to the side. You pushed your butt up, signaling your need for him. Miller chuckled briefly in understanding and spread your knees again with his hands. With one of his hands, he feels over your wet cunt and leans over you to nip your shoulder. 

When you moan he nods, “I know, I know. Me too.” 

His long, rough fingers teased you cruelly as you bit your lip to keep from whining. 

“Miller…” you whispered after a while of waiting and teasing. The senior agent smiled and leaned closer to your ear. 

“Patience, girl. It’s an agent’s best virtue.” 

You rolled your eyes and started to respond snippily before you felt him press against you, groaning. He pumped into you, hitting your ass with each quick gentle stroke. His hand that wasn’t being used to support his body went to your chin and pulled your head to lie flat on the side. 

“How does it feel?” He asked. 

“Hhha,” you tried to speak in a small breathless voice. He moved his hand back to your hip so that he could thrust deeper. 

“Mmm fuck, you’re tight,” he panted and moved faster, harder. You cried out in pleasure and arched your back as much as you can beneath his body. “Tell me when you’re close.” 

He groaned in pleasure as he found a good rhythm, your cunt gripping his cock better than his wife ever could. You moaned loudly, nearing yelling as he held you down and subjected you to the brutal honestly of his fucking. 

He leaned down over you to rub his lips against your smooth upper back. He kissed your shoulder blade and slowed his thrusts, savoring the intimacy of your bodies. He moved his hips forward in a slow and flexed manner, straddling the line between climax and continuity. 

“Good girl. Good. fucking. girl.” He muttered, his lips still barely touching your back. 

“Shit I’m close,” you whined, your thighs shaking out of your control. As soon as the words left your mouth, Miller pulled out and picked you up by your hips. Nearly cradling you in his arms, he swapped places with you and placed you on top of his freckled upper chest. 

“Sit,” he instructed calmly, “I’ll finish you off,” he gripped your thighs, waiting for you to move onto his face. You were panting and red in the face and it took a moment for you to realize what he was asking. With another reassuring nod from him, you shifted your body up and slowly lowered yourself down onto his face. You were skeptical and awkward until you felt his tongue glide over the lips of your sex. His nose rubbed against your clit as he sucked and lapped at your cunt. Your mouth fell open and your thighs immediately reacted by quivering. You placed your hands over his, still on your thighs, and cried out. 

“That’s it,” his voice was muffled but still clear as he felt your orgasm building again, “I won’t stop you this time.” 

Your body tried to jerk away from his mouth as your climax came on fast and strong but Miller kept you close to his lips. His arms didn’t let you leave even as you writhed from pleasure. You panted loudly, whining, until you finally orgasmed. Miller felt you orgasm against his mouth and waited until you had ridden it out before letting you pull away. You moved back enough for him to sit up. You were both panting and high on pleasure which made it impossible to speak. Miller looked you up and down, his way of asking if you were ok. You nodded softly and he nodded in return. 

“You didn’t finish,” you observed breathlessly, straddling his lap as he leaned against the headboard.

“No?” He raised a brow, pretending to be ignorant. 

“No, you didn’t.” 

“You’re observant, good for you agent Y/L/N,” he responded evenly, raising both of his brows so that his forehead creased into that judgmental look he did so well. 

“Fuck you.” 

“Already did. Try again,” he tilted his head to the side slightly and nearly smirked. His biceps curled as he ran his hands up and down your arms. When you cocked your eyebrow back, calling him out on his bullshit, he sighed and resigned. 

“That was for you, not for me,” he explained calmly, his eyes meeting yours. 

“Making me finish, you mean?” You asked slowly, your brows furrowed more. 

“Yes,” he nodded slowly and pursed his lips, “that was for you. I wanted to make you come.” 

“And now what?” 

“What do you mean?” Miller asked, confused. 

“What do we do now?”

“We put on our clothes and go back to doing our jobs,” he answered with a half-hearted shrug. You scowled and shook your head. 

“No.”

“No?” He repeated. 

“You want this too, as much as you try to deny it and shame me for it. I’m not just a pity-fuck. Look me in the fucking eyes and say that you didn’t want me,” your voice dropped and you grabbed his shoulders, your fingers digging into his muscles. He held your gaze calmly but his heart beat faster. His jaw clenched and unclenched as he considered his response. Deciding against words, Miller grabbed the back of your neck and forced you into a hard kiss. You were caught by surprise and moaned tightly as he pulled you close and found your tongue to suck on, delirious with passion. His hands wrapped around you and flipped you over where you were then lying on your back beneath him. 

“Fine, how’s this? I’ll look you in the eyes while I fuck you,” he growled and helped himself inside you. Like this, you could see his bright blue eyes as he held himself up over your body. He was already grunting and panting as he started to move back and forth. Both of your mouths fell open and you cried out in more pain than pleasure at this overstimulation. One of his hands wrapped around your throat, his thumb playing with the ridges of flexed muscles as you panted beneath him. His eyes only left you once when he dropped his head to your breasts to take one of your nipples between his teeth. He didn’t press hard, just enough to make you whimper. He flicked his large tongue over your breast, teasing the nipple with quick aggressive flicks. Your back arched and he growled in pleasure against your chest as he allowed himself to feel his orgasm. He returned his head to its original position so that he could watch your facial expression as he came. His mouth was open, his lips wet and pink. His cheeks hollowed everytime he panted, hitting your hips hard with his at the same time. He said nothing as he came, just slowed his thrusts, focusing instead on going as deeply as he could. His eyes closed and he shuttered, cumming inside you. 

When it was over, Miller remained fixed above you, his grip loosened around your neck. He traced his finger up and down your throat in a strange show of affection. 

“Alright?” Miller asked in a deep, heavy voice. You nodded and ran your hand over his chest. 

“You?”

“Alright.” He nodded once. You stared into each others’ eyes, panting and exchanging hot breath. 

“Alright,” you whispered. 

Another moment of silence passed. 

“Alright,” he repeated, staring now at your lips. Slowly, Miller inched closer. Slowly, your lips touched once more. 

Alright.

[magicaleraser94]

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

[staiyn]

more memes of Cillian Characters

[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.

[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😎

[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.