#and then a dozen people going shut the FUCK UP GRINGO

[jupiterjunebug]

On a micro level its your blog and u can cry if u want to, im not the cops. But on a macro level ive seen a decent chunk of fans say, as a general rule, that the following promotions should never ever hire another former wwe guy ever:

Aew

Njpw

Tna

Ddt

Gcw

Stardom

RevPro

[Insert local indie here]

And at a certain point its like damn. Seems the only thing you can do if youre fired by the Company That Is Famous For Sudden Stringent Talent Cuts and Also People Walking Out Due to Feeling Strongly Mistreated is uh. Retire or move to Mexico?????

[nomoregoldfish]

Imagine saving Amado from a cartel fight & him returning favor later (1/2)

Set in 2x09, besides the DEA squad, other cartels also have the motive to interfere the 70 tons shipment. Amado's in danger, and it’s up to you to save him. P.S. I’m really curious about how he got the scar breaking his brow. Read more Imagine Amado here.

You're a cashier working at the nearest gas station next to the cartel's new airport in Juaréz. 

During one of your night shifts, an injured man rushes in and asks for first-aid kit. His head's bleeding, looks really scary.

You recognize the man even with blood stain on his face. Because you're a natural observer. You watch people come and go every single day. Of course you're gonna notice someone new with weird accent who frequently drives by.

He usually keeps things simple, always paying cash, maybe picking a pack of Marlboro or two.

As more workers come by, you quickly learn there's a new large construction site nearby, more trucks, more people, which are good for the business.

It's not long before you connect the dots and find out the new guy is sort of in charge of construction site, and it's cartel business. He must be someone important. 

Bit by bit, with rumors and other intelligence you gather, you learn his name (including a stupid nickname), his position, etc. What can you say, policemen also need to fill up gas and they love gossip whenever they have a break.

"WTF are you staring at? Bring me the fucking bandage." He'd probably think you're terrified being held at gunpoint. But you have other plans.

You tear his black shirt apart, making a strip to wrap up the wound on his forehead as fast as you can.

"You don't have time for that. Your black Chevrolet is still outside, whoever messes up your handsome face will be here soon. Listen, I don't want to be some cartel war casualty. You can pull the trigger right now but it wouldn't help. You need to go..."

He stops you, "You're not stupid, uh? Very good. You think whoever chases me would spare you when they see the blood drops leading to your counter, even if I were gone? They'd burn this dinky place to the ground then what'd happen to your pretty face?"

Amado Carrillo Fuentes has a point, a good one. He's really lived up to his street reputation, the fucking brain of the cartel. You're not disappointed. 

The man in black quickly comes up with a plan. And you're gonna the one who execute it.

"You're narcos, right? No need to feel guilty. I do it to save my own life." You tease him when you cut your finger for more blood drops, making it look like the wounded man stumbles into the stockroom at the back. Yet the man himself hides beneath your counter. It's a very awkward posture with his long legs in such a narrow space.

Basically you have the second most powerful man in Juaréz on his knees, willingly. 

"Wait a second." You run out to his car, tossing things out, breaking windows.

"You enjoy making a real mess with my car, don't you? You little shit." Amado half-jokes.

"Oh, señor, I just stick to your plan." You wink at him. In the moment of life and death, you appreciate Amado's sense of humor.

You ask why he doesn't call backup, joking that he'd better have plan b, even plan c, in case you screw up.

"I'd not have ended up here facing your pussy if I had plan b. Lots of local knuckleheads rattled after... Acosta died, you know him, right?" The tall man explains from below, his fucking nose is technically inches away from your private part.

The Gulf cartel guys are easy to spot with their noisy pickups. With half a dozen armed guys approaching, you can only pray that they are as dumb as Amado mentioned.

You start playing this innocent, helpless, terrified little girl who works at the gas station. You show them Amado's car, then the empty stockroom with more blood stains. 

"The gringos took him! They searched his car, and yelled where are the 70 tons of something. Please, please, don't hurt me. I swear to God, I don't know what they're talking about. They kept asking the 70 tons. Then they grabbed him to their car, giving me a 20 to keep my mouth shut." 

You even have a crumpled dollar bill ready in the pocket to show them. It's so intense, you can feel Amado's heavy breath underneath your miniskirt. The peril and heat make adrenaline pump into your blood. Both of your lives depends on how well you lie.

One guy that seems to be their leader is skeptical. But after another guy whispers something in his ear, he signals other men to lower their weapons. 

You pretend sobbing, shivering, like you're really scared. And the Gulf guys eventually buy it after their search turns to nothing.

The Gulf cartel jerks are GONE.

You close up. Then help Amado get up, he's turning pale due to the loss of blood. You manage to hold him to the stockroom, make him rest on the broken sofa.

You wish you could enjoy straddling Amado while him being topless for a little longer. 

Not now. You carefully clean his wound. It'd leave a long scar on his brow but fortunately it's not a deep cut. 

Amado makes almost no noise when you stitch him up, only grabbing your thighs involuntarily. "Sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"No worries." You smile, "You'll be ugly for about six months, then you'll be back in the game." 

You pat him on his wounded face. Fuck, Amado's still a good-looking man.

"Muchas gracias. You're amazing out there." Amado's big hands are still on your bare thighs, "Since you already know who I am, let me know what you want, I'll return the favor. You know, with all the money from the 70 tons."

You laugh, joking that the more cartel secrets him telling you, the more quickly he'd get you killed.

When things finally settle that night, you drive Amado to his place.

On the road, you can't help but ask him why he looked sad earlier when he mentioned Acosta.

"Now you wanna learn more cartel secrets?" He jokes if you're one of the poor peasants Acosta paid for school or your mama's knee surgery. Maybe it's what you and him just went through, the tough guy becomes a bit soft. Amado starts telling you the stories between the new guy and el jefe of Juaréz cartel.

"Former jefe," You correct him.

Amado's caught off guard. You probably shouldn't say anything about the biggest drug lord in the state, you continue anyway, "Now you only need to take out one guy. How do I know Rafael Aguilar Guajardo? The police's been taking from us for years."

Amado leaves you his gold chain, promises he'll be back. You snatch his favorite sunglasses hanging on the chain. Put them on, wave him goodbye.

"Not cool, you little thief!"

[lairofsentinel]

Frustration and vaccines and being a guinea pig

It's sad we never, as a planet, had serious talks about vaccines. Without going into anti-vax shit, as a person of science who knows the hell well how multinational interests work against and fuck science itself, I think we are going to head into a worse stage in the next half part of the year, specially in the South; not only because the peak of the pandemic is getting closer and faster...because we, the third world countries, will be the guinea pigs.

We never had a serious, mature talk about how we accept forced massive vaccination without blinking and eye when the vaccine market is controlled by multinationals in a system that keeps putting first profit over everything else. Now, several companies are having the rawest direst competition in "discovering" THE vaccine.  The fucking money at stake! All of them are more than sure that it will be ok, it will be super effective, it will work, and it will have no side-effects. They "know" all that without a fucking statistic. Without even having the vaccine ready yet. (hell, the current flu vaccine we know is not as efficient as companies want us to believe! I'm more than sceptical with the first covid19 vaccines; they are going to add more deaths to our numbers in fact.

Argentina has the “honour” of being "selected" to be a guinea pig's country for a gringo company (Pfizer) and a German lab (Biotech). There is a Chinese lab too, but it needs confirmation still.  But we were informed of this as if it were a good thing. A way to "contribute" with the world. Because we all know that the only deaths that count are those from the North. It's like news... if it doesn't happen in those "first world" countries, it doesn't matter.

Pfizer has an incredible LONG list of death and irregularities over the last 20 years, including death of several people due to their products (vaccines and medicines alike), about lying on the efficiency or the danger of some of their products, and a lot of bans in "serious" countries like Japan. [I wont list it, it’s pretty long, and pretty recent]

Now, the fucked up president of this country gave its population for these assholes to test their shit in our bodies because that terrible lapsus done by French doctors months ago (who said that they were going to experiment with African people instead) went too bad on public opinion. So let's use latinoamerican bodies instead... you can always interchange both continents to do your crap, it's fine, those bodies are worthless. So now they are bringing their shit-vaccine-test to the South, so far, to Argentina and Chile.,

I kept asking myself why. Argentina is developing its own vaccine, there is no fucking need to be a guinea pig of another lab. Besides, we all know that being a guinea pig gives you no preference in the distribution of the final vaccine. We still are going to be the last one in receiving the vaccine, because it's obvious that the first millions "safe" dosis will go straight to Europe, Gringoland and China. Just after they are ok and well covered, they are going to keep profiting with third-fucked-up-world countries.

So, as a person of science who knows how science is not fucking innocent in anything that happens, I checked to whom Pfizer belongs: the answer made me roll my eyes: Black Rock group, State Street corp. Rothschild Asset Management, and Vanguard group; these groups are big holders of the external public debt of the country. So yeah... the country has been already in default for a long while, and because it can't pay the illegal debts it seems that we ended up as guinea pigs.

It's also interesting how these groups, once you check their owners a bit deeper, end up to be Microsoft, Apple, and Johnson & Johnson.( I'm not saying shit about the incredible assault these companies are doing in the country Lithium reservoirs for the green energy of the First countries, so they can be "environment-friendly" ha. That’s another nasty long topic) But putting that aside, we are talking about Bill Gate, the big fucker that most people love to kiss his ass just because **philanthropy crap** when it's known his fortune was mainly done when he entered in the health business (yeah, he did his first fortune with Microsoft, but the big boost was health business), and did a lot of shady shit with vaccines applied to poor class people in India and poor populations in several countries of Africa which were a scandal at the time (sure, scandals that lasted only few days, because he knows how to stop them with his power). He loves the concept of massive vaccination because it's the main source of profit for most laboratories (it's for Pfizer). We are all too brainwashed that massive vaccination is a needed practice, but nobody says shit in which context that seems to be reasonable. Which I don’t know if our current world is a good context to allow that.

Argentina has a long list of cases where multinational laboratories came to use the population as guinea pigs. The Justice system of this country is as weak as a fucking cookie, so anyone can bend it. You don't need too much money for it.

The most recent case of this kind of shit was with Glaxo lab, another gringo lab of shit; which killed dozen of babies in the country by testing a vaccine on them. They, of course, claimed that it was "consented", but when the case reached the Justice, it was investigated: most parents were misinformed about the process, some of them were illiterate and were convinced to be part of it in tricky ways. For once, the Argentinian Justice *worked* and fined the company for a ridiculous small amount that the company paid without much trouble. The babies killed? The parents tricked? nobody gave a shit. Those bodies are third-world country bodies, they are meant to be used and discarded.

With this example in mind (there are so many of this kind that gives goosebumps), another fucked up gringo company will now use our bodies as it pleases, while nobody can bring the subject of how vaccines and massive vaccination (in this context) is as dangerous as the pandemic itself, because you are immediately labelled as a "social danger" because anti-vax person.... Really. Frustration. 

[[Just in case I will say it: I’m not anti-vax, but I’m also not a fucking maniac that considers that every vaccine in this world works and it’s good. With reading statistics of each of them it’s obvious that we can’t consider every fucking vaccine useful or good. Polio vaccine? sure, there is a lot of proof showing it’s great. Measles? sure (though some professionals have their reasons to doubt). PHV vaccine? hell no. We need a conversation for each fucking vaccine. Hell, doctors around the world have a lot of discussions about a lot of vaccines, showing the topic can’t be reduced into vaccines yes/no, but somehow, if you are not part of that binary shit, you are a demon! fuck’s sake; stop the crappy binary shit. ]]

We should have had a serious conversation about vaccines in a capitalist system ages ago. We never could because everything was shut down into the binary crap of white and black concept of "anti-vax" and "pro-vax" shit. We need to talk about the big Pharma, about the safety procedure that the Big Pharma itself keep skipping because its power and money. 

These are complex topics where a white and black answer doesn't fit. It's as terrible to be an anti-vax person as to be a pro-bill-gates-maniac who wants to vaccine in massive ways and embraces the risks of new/experimental vaccines with a silly smile and an “oops”. It’s not his body neither his country’s population which is used in the tests. Vaccines move millions of dollars per month in each laboratory, we cannot fucking talk about the topic in a binary way. And yet, there we are... stuck in the yes/no shit.

I'm so fucking frustrated of this world, of this country, of how things work. And the binary shit. Binary thinking is making me insane. It’s not just this, it’s also in politics, in life decisions, in economy, in every layer of our lives. People stopped thinking at all. Life became into a multiple binary choice: yes/no. Nothing fucking more.

[shinichirosbabymama]

Imagine: Inadvertently Saving Steve Murphy’s Life

A/N: Yo so this is my first piece of Narcos writing. There is very very little and I was inspired by a fantastic piece I read this morning by @multiimaginefandoms​ Let me know what you guys think as I’m quite interested in writing a second part to this. Warnings include slight smuttiness, blood and gore, and use of racial slurs. Also tagging @missphanosaur18 as per request. Enjoy! 

You woke up naturally to the sensation of the sweltering heat filling your bedroom. Kicking the thin sheets from your body, you sat up and groped blindly in the dark for the wooden shutters that concealed any outside light. Pulling them open, you squinted as the harsh light from outside assaulted your sleepy eyes.

You gazed out at the sprawl of Medellín below you. Home for the last six months. It was a city that constantly intrigued you - the way in which it seemed to move, breathe and work as one whilst simultaneously choked and cowered with the ongoing threat of the cartel.

As a college graduate plagued with boredom, unwilling to commit to the banality of adult life just yet you'd arrived in Medellín as a volunteer. As one of the most dangerous cities in the world, poverty was rife so you dedicated your time to helping the poorest and most vulnerable. It was considered a noble act (or a stupid one depending on whether you were talking to your mother or not) but also a tedious one. The presence of the cartel lowered your life expectancy significantly and several of your companions had been killed already - in bombs, stabbings, a hail of bullets. And yet you remained. But you were beginning to wonder why.

This morning was no different to any other. You'd woken early due to the heat and took your time getting ready, eating the eggs you'd traded from a neighbour who needed clean bandages. One the only things you appreciated about Medellín was its simplicity - people woke, worked and spent the day just trying to stay alive. It brought about a sense of the community that was alien in America, aiding your neighbour in the present as they might not be there tomorrow.

You dressed in plain casual clothes as it was essential to blend in as much as possible and set out on your daily journey to  San Javier - more notoriously known as Comuna 13 but you hated calling it that. You found the name dehumanising. Despite your plain clothed appearance the majority of the inhabitants knew your face anyway and they approached you subtly in the makeshift food bank that you'd set up.

The day passed as normal. You sat around for a while and chatted with the locals in the broken Spanish you'd picked up as you waited for the supply delivery. A heavily armoured lorry arrived stocked with tins, basic medicines and baby clothes which you began to unload and distribute to whoever passed by.

The day was drawing to a close and you decided to linger for another half an hour before heading home. Suddenly a woman approached you, her eyes were frantic and she gripped your forearm tightly as she spoke in fast Spanish. You strained your ears to try and gather the gist of what she was saying but it proved difficult. After asking her to repeat herself a few more times you eventually understood that her child - what sounded like an infant - was unwell and needed help.

Whilst you had received basic medical training back in the states it was still highly limited but when you looked up and down the long streets you found that the two of you basically alone. You also couldn't shake the niggling feeling that this baby had been left unaccompanied while this woman - who looked younger than yourself - had come to find help. You gave her a small nod and agreed to follow her. The woman placed her hands together in a prayer of thanks for you and sped off in front.

You panted slightly as you jogged to keep up with the figure in front of you as she weaved quickly in and out of the narrow alleyways and streets which made up San Javier. There were several times when you lost sight of her altogether and you tried to call out before reminding yourself that drawing any attention to yourself in this part of the Comuna was extremely dangerous.

Eventually you saw her dark hair vanish out of view into a busy structure of various shacks - the tin roofs nearly piled on top of one another with how closely they were built together. You slowed your pace and listened for the sound of her - or even better, the child.

You stilled in surprise as you heard two male voices just behind the wall on your right. You hadn't even considered the fact that this might be a trap. That you may be about to get mugged. Or worse.

Sweat prickled at the base of your neck when you thought about what might happen to you. Deaths were rarely quick and never pleasant out in Medellín and you weren't exactly ecstatic about becoming part of the one the highest murder rates per capita in the world.

You knew it would be impossible to outrun them. Especially if they had vehicles. So for now you stood stock still, pressed your back against the wall and tried to listen. To your surprise the two men were speaking English, and one of them had a distinct American accent.

'You fucking gringos think I will just give up the boss like that?'

'We can offer you immunity, Quica. But we require your assistance first.'

'Don't say my name, puta. Not when I'm about to shoot you in the fucking head.'

Your teeth bit down hard on your lip and you psyched yourself up for a few seconds before daring to edge towards the window and pivot your body just enough to look through.

From the awkward angle you could just about make out the two men. Only one of them was armed. He had a small but imposing figure, with a mop of curly dark hair on his head which made his appearance look wild. From your position you couldn't see his face - only the hand which held the gun pointed at the man opposite him. His hand was shaking slightly, indicating anxiety.

The second man stood out to you the most. He had dirty blond hair that was pushed back with a matching moustache and small but intense blue eyes that were trained on the man opposite him as opposed to gun being pointed. The heavy duty bullet proof vest attached to his chest indicated to you immediately that this man was no volunteer.

'You don't have to shoot me. This is your choice. You can help us or you will be killed.'

'Shut the fuck up!' The man's hand holding the gun shook more violently and you felt your chest seize up with the fear that he could pulled the trigger any second. 'The boss would never have me killed.'

As the man spoke you saw him gesture to the wall next to the two. You followed his movement and saw an Escobar shrine attached the wall complete with a drawing in his likeness. You weren't completely surprised - you'd seen hundreds of these shrines in the months you'd spent in Medellín but you knew better than to speak a word about them to anyone.

When you glanced back to the men the blond caught your gaze. His eyes were only on yours for a split second but they were wide. You couldn't work out whether that meant 'help' or 'leave' but against your better judgement you decided to settle on the former.

Slowly ever so slowly you edged forward, praying that you would be silent as you entered through the doorway. The man holding the gun was rambling and the sound of his heavy breathing covered the noise of your quiet footsteps. You reached for a vase on a nearby table.

This was it. With the heavy weight of the vase in your palm you launched yourself and in two large steps you sent the vase crashing into the back of the man's skull.

There were several loud noises which occurred simultaneously. The scene was dominated most of all by the sound of the hand gun discharging. You shut your eyes out of fear of the explosion but that did nothing to quell the sound, which filled your ears with white noise.

Stumbling back you were able to open your eyes after a few seconds. The first sight you saw was the man you had struck face down on the floor. Blood was flowing freely from the back of his head and beginning to pool around his body. The metallic smell twinned with the smell of burning from the gun hung in the air. You were eventually able to tear you eyes away from the floor to the study the man you'd just saved who was looking at you with a mix of shock and intrigue. It would be hours before you realised that the bullet only missed him by centimetres.

'You just took out Escobar's right hand man.' The man's voice sounded slightly breathless but you noted that he had a thick southern accent which smoothed over the words regardless of whatever shock he was going through.

'He was going to kill you.' Was all you could reply dumbly.

'Yeah he was.' The man confirmed and a silence hung in the air between you. Once again you became aware of the body at your feet and a dull pain that had started in your hand. You flexed your hand in response and dropped a shard of the vase that you must have been gripping tightly. Blood began to flow from the wound left behind.

The man brushed his palm across his moustache as he looked around the room. Without warning he roughly kicked the small table in front of him across the room with enough force to shatter the wood. You jumped in response and briefly wondered if he would attack you next.

'Shit.' He cursed and walked forward, roughly grabbing your arm and hauling you from the small house.

For a few moments outside was eerily quiet before the sound of cars racing towards you filled the air. You seized up in fear for a few seconds, legs failing you as the man pulled you along before you recognised the approaching vehicles as Colombian police. A dozen cars and jeeps stopped at the two of you and a brown haired man with a moustache jumped out.

'What the fuck?' He demanded in a low voice, American accent present once again as he tried to approach the two of you.

'Not now Javi.' The man holding your arm shot back quickly as he weaved around him and dragged you towards a parked car.

He released you once you reached the car and held the door open for you. You obediently got in and put your seat belt on, the shock of killing someone within the last two minutes overriding all of your actions and setting you on autopilot. The man climbed in the drivers side, cleared his throat and started the car before driving off at speed.

'Sorry that I dragged you, I hope I didn't hurt you arm...' The man lingered on the last part and glanced down at your arm before cursing again. You followed his gaze and studied the deep cut on your hand. The blood had smeared all over your palm and was still flowing.

'Shit. You're bleeding.'

'I must have done it on the vase.'

'It's bad.'

'It doesn't hurt.'

The two of you descended into silence again and you glanced out of the window, trying to gauge where you were but after a few moments that only seemed to make you feel lightheaded.

'Where are we going?' You asked cautiously.

'My apartment. S'on the outskirts and the only safe part of town I can think of right now. I've been changing direction for'a while to try and throw anyone off who might'b following.'

'There are people following us?'

'It's probable.'

You took a deep breath to try and quell the anxiety which gripped your chest now that the adrenaline had worn off. You could see something white inside the cut on your hand which made you feel dizzy when you realised it was likely to be bone.

'Should we go to the hospital?'

'Too dangerous. I'll have t'stitch you up myself. You'll have one helluva battle scar though.'

The man glanced over at you and you noted that much of the tension that had painted his features earlier had now dissipated. His eyes were surprisingly warm and a small smile played at the corner of his mouth. You held his gaze for a second before you felt a wave of nausea pass over you.

'I'm going to be sick.'

'What?'

'Stop the car. Now.'

The man stopped abruptly and you quickly opened the door to vomit onto the dusty road below. Your hands shook as you gripped the car door. After a few moments you composed yourself and sat back heavily against the seat, trying to catch your breath. The man said nothing but reached behind you to grab a grey sweater that he offered you.

'Put this on. It gets cold here at night.'

You slipped the sweater on, relishing the softness on the material on your skin and subtly wiped your mouth on the sleeve. The two of you remained silent against for the rest of the journey.

After what felt like forever and with all of Medellín nearly in darkness you reached the man's house. As he stopped the car you felt anxiety wash over you again and tensed up wondering if you were really about to enter this strangers house.

'Wait. Who exactly are you?'

The man raised his eyebrows slightly at your question, possibly considering his answer before he decided to give one.

'Name's Steve Murphy. I'm a DEA agent who was sent here to deal with Escobar.'

You narrowed your eyes at Steve which prompted him to fish out his badge from his pocket which he presented to you. So he was legit. Or an amazing con artist.

He led you into his apartment, looking up and down each side the streets several times as you made your way inside. You noted that he double locked the front door and put the chain across.

Once inside Steve Murphy visibly relaxed. He removed his bullet proof vest and his holster and gun and placed them on the sofa. You perched at the other end and looked around the apartment. It was fairly basic and looked barely lived in save for the stacks of paper spread all over the dining table.

Steve seemed to read your mind. 'I weren't expecting company.' He murmured sheepishly before he made his way towards what you assumed was the bedroom. He reappeared after a few minutes donned in sweatpants and a light t-shirt. You noticed how muscular his arms looked outside of the thick long-sleeved shirt he'd been wearing earlier and averted your gaze before you stared too long.

Steve grabbed a first aid kit from his kitchen. 'Lemme look at that hand then.' He kneeled at your feet and took your hand, turning it over to examine the cut. Your head began to swim again so you looked away, focussing your gaze at the top of Steve's head where you noticed that a couple of strands of blonde hair had fallen forward and stuck to his forehead due to the humidity of the room.

'I'm gonna clean it. This may hurt but I have to do it.'

You nodded in response, closing your eyes as you listened to the tearing sound of Steve opening the alcohol wipes. He began to clean the wound and you ground your teeth together at the almost unbearable sting. You let out a hiss of pain several times and Steve hummed a small 'sorry' in response as he continued.

'It's pretty deep. I think I'll have to...' Steve trailed off and you could see his teeth worrying at his lip as he gazed into the first aid kit.

'I can stitch it.' You interjected. 'You'll have to hold it together for me though.'

'I can do that.'

You threaded the needed and Steve took a seat next to you on the sofa, holding each side of your hand tight together across his thigh as you began to stitch the wound. It was agony without any anaesthetic and you could feel tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you worked but you refused to quit in front of him.

Steve let out a low whistle when you finished and examined your work.

'Damn. I dunno how you did that.' His eyes found yours again but you couldn't hold his gaze for too long. He was handsome enough that it made you nervous.

A little later on with a cold beer pressed into your good hand and your legs in a spare pair of Steve's sweats you began to relax a little after what had been probably the most unusual day of your life.

'So you never told me your name or what you're actually doin' in Columbia...' Steve began as he studied you from the other side of the sofa.

'Y/N. And I work as a volunteer in San Javier.'

'A volunteer? Kinda a dangerous job if you ask me.' Steve raised his eyebrows which made you feel very small for some reason.

'I think being a DEA agent in Columbia is a little more dangerous.' You teased back and Steve let out a low laugh.

'I can't argue with that. What I also wanted to say was thank you for earlier...that could've been the last of me.'

'It's cool. Right time, right place I guess. Or not. Depending on whether they find me and kill me now.' You were half joking but Steve leaned forward swiftly, his face serious - the point of anger - as he held your wrist lightly.

'Don't say that. Nothing is gonna happen. I'll make sure of that.' His voice was low and deadly and the sound of his accent made your brain fuzzy. He leant back again when you finally replied with a quiet 'okay'.

The two of you continued to drink to lighten the mood again. The alcohol did an amazing job of numbing the pain in your hand and after a while you found yourself smiling, laughing even, at some of the stories Steve told you from when he was a young cop. He gave you the brief and least confidential details of his life while you told him all about your disillusionment with home, how you didn't really want to return, how anything even remotely normal seemed to bore you stiff.

'Well maybe normal life ain't for you then.' Steve smirked from behind his bottle, his foot just brushing your knee from where it was stretched out across the sofa. 'You did a number on that guy earlier after all.'

You felt sick at his words and your smile dropped immediately as you took a large swig of your drink. Steve picked up on it immediately and moved closer.

'Y/N I didn't mean...' He started but you cut him off.

'No. You're right. I fucking did that today. What is wrong with me...' You let out a shaky breath, your voice mixed with anger and upset as you barely even registered Steve's large palm resting on your cheek as you pulled your gaze towards his.

'Y/N that man has killed hundreds of innocent people. You weren't just saving me, you were saving others too.'

'But I didn't know that then. I didn't think, I just acted.'

'Well I'm glad of that. Your instinct saved my goddam life.'

Steve's face was very close to yours now and you didn't know if it was the alcohol or the way his accent wrapped around every word he said in a way that captivated you but you found your lips against his. Steve let out a small noise of surprise, stilling for a moment before kissing you back hungrily - large hands moving up the side of your face before knotting themselves in your hair. You wondered how long it had been since he'd had contact like this. In fact it had been a very long time since you had too.

You let out a low groan, hauling yourself up onto your knees in your to get closer. Steve copied your moments although he towered above you as your teeth gnashed together with the ferocity of the kiss.

You pulled back for a moment to study Steve's face. His lips were full and slightly parted from kissing and his eyes were dark. You went to speak - to try and make this situation intelligible to yourself but he swooped back in and captured your mouth again.

You whimpered at the sensation of his hands pulling roughly at the denim material that covered your hips. You wanted him to rip your clothes off you. Instead you found yourself being tipped onto your back on the sofa as Steve's lips travelled down your neck, nipping at the skin covering your collarbones. Your breath caught in your throat in response and you ground your hips up against his which caused him to swear under his breath.

You wanted to speed things up and ran your hands under Steve's t-shirt, admiring the muscle of his broad back - how beautifully it juxtaposed the softness of his middle, when his hand suddenly reached up to stop you.

You froze straight away, retracting your hand as Steve broke away from you. He wore the same fucked out expression but it was mixed with something else now - guilt.

'I shouldn't be doing this. I can't do this.'

'Oh. I mean - don't do it if you don't want to.'

'No I do. It's just...' Steve trailed off, looking for the correct words. 'It's unethical.'

'Unethical?' You spat his own word back at him. It made you feel like a science experiment.

'I'm sorry. I just don't want to be like Javi.'

You remembered that Javi was the man who'd greeted you both earlier but had no idea what he'd done. It annoyed you immensely that he compared himself to him at a time like this.

'It's okay I get it.' You murmured.

'Y/N I...'

'Goodnight Steve.' It was rude to cut off whatever he was about to say but you felt beyond embarrassed now. Steve let his head bow and you heard him exhale in frustration, his body still firmly planted on top of you.

'Yes. Night.' He climbed off of you and made his way immediately to the bedroom. Steve returned with a blanket and pillow which he offered to you wordlessly before returning to the bedroom and shutting the door behind him.

You lay still for a long and in equal parts aroused and annoyed and too stubborn to do anything about it. Eventually you rolled over and attempted sleep which came to you quickly given the days events.

That night you dreamt about Steve, the sensation of his hot breath against your neck as he filled you and his hands clasped tightly on your hips. You woke up more than once in a cold sweat and prayed that he hadn't any of the moans that had tumbled from your lips.

Morning arrived and you waited for him to wake.