#chepe narcos

[yeyinde]

And I suppose the guy at the door is also Colombian? What a small world, right?

Pêpê Rapazote as Chepe Santacruz Londoño | NARCOS (S03E02)

[lethal-amigos]

Rare Tenderness

By @my-gunpowder

This takes place when Chepe and Jose leaves Encanto. Jose usually takes Chepe with him, but then he needed Roberto on a trip (The right hand of Jose, to whom he transfers business management when he leaves somewhere)

And he'll ask Chepe to keep an eye on the cartel guys while he and Roberto are away.

[drabbles-mc]

Claro Que No

Chepe Santacruz x GN!Reader

For @narcosfandomdiscord's Day of Firsts: create a fanwork about a character you've never written about before

Warnings: 18+

Word Count: 462

A/N: taking that 300 word minimum so so close to heart on this day 😂 as the prompt of the day states: it's my first time writing Chepe! mildly terrified but fuck it, we ball!

Narcos Taglist: @garbinge @winchestershiresauce @sizzlingcloudmentality @panagiasikelia @616wilsons @hauntedforsst @mirabee @buckybarneshairpullingkink @boomclapxox @nessamc @southotheborder @supersanelyromantic @padbrookcottage @mysun-n-stars @raincoffeeandfandoms @justreblogginfics @ashlingnarcos @proceduralpassion @artemiseamoon @narcolini @hausofmamadas @cositapreciosa (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

 “Confías en mí?” he asked as he sat on the edge of your bed. He studied your face as you sat facing him, your back pressed against the headboard.

You knew that laughter shouldn’t have been your knee-jerk response, especially not when he actually sounded like he was being serious and honest with you for once. You knew it, but you still let out a small chuckle as your eyebrows lifted towards your hairline. “Confío en ti?” You reached and rested your hand on the side of his face, fingertips trailing over the stubble there. “Claro que no.”

He huffed, turning his head so that your palm was no longer pressed to his cheek. Your hand dropped to his shoulder and he was tempted to try and shrug it off but he didn’t. He wasn’t that mad. Not yet. “Be serious with me.”

The smile on your face stretched a little wider. “I am being serious with you, Chepe.”

“No you’re n—”

“I like you,” you said as you dragged your thumb back and forth over the fabric of the shirt covering his shoulder. “Hell, I even care about you. But…but no. I don’t trust you.” You expected to see anger on his face at that, perhaps even hurt, but instead all you saw was a man who was listening intently to whatever you were going to say next. “I know too much about you to trust you.”

That got the barest of grins out of him. “Too much, hm?”

“Had to go and spill all your secrets,” you joked.

“Not all of them.”

You smirked. “Give it some time.”

His smile grew. You weren’t wrong, really. You knew more than you should about him, about his life. It was mutual, though—he knew more than he should about you and your life given the line of work he was in, the types of people that he knew. But there was always a line. Everything was always theoretical. He told you stories, showed up with stained clothes that you made a point not to ask about. But his life was always something that existed distantly from you. The convergence of your worlds ended at the doorway of your apartment. Always had. And, if you had a prayer in the world, it would always be that way, too.

“I have to go,” he said, the statement serving as the invitation he would’ve extended if you answered his first question differently.

Your mind hadn’t changed, though. “You’ll be back.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he leaned in and kissed you lightly on the lips. “You sound so sure.”

You hummed in amusement, fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. “That’s one thing about you that I do trust.”

[garbinge]

Watching Time

Pacho Herrera x Chepe Santacruz For the @narcosfandomdiscord October Prompts. Day 9 - Day of Gay: Create anything devoted to an LGBTQ+ character. Summary: Morning bliss with these guys. Word Count: 800 words Warnings: All my fics are 18+, regardless of content. Alludes to sexual situations. A/N: I had so much fun with this!!!! Also I PROMISE to catch up on everyone's fics!!! work has been crrrraaazzzzyyyyyy but I'm hoping to catch up soon!

Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @narcolini @hausofmamadas @ashlingiswriting

“You know that bike is going to kill you one day.” Chepe was shirtless, leaning against the headboard of the bed as he lit a cigarette. 

“You think about that bike more than you think about me.” Pacho was walking back from the bathroom, his short boxer briefs being the only thing on his body. 

“I think about you on that bike.” Chepe said as he looked Pacho up and down, the smoke exhaling from his mouth. 

“If I wanted to be safe I would have chosen a different profession.” Pacho was now getting dressed. The disappointment was apparent on Chepe’s face as Pacho went from naked to fully clothed. 

“You can retire.” Chepe’s eyebrows were raised now, like the idea he had was so brilliant he was wondering why he didn’t come up with it sooner. 

Pacho didn’t even entertain that comment with any response let alone a glance in his direction. He continued getting ready, placing the gold watch that Chepe gifted him a few months back. 

“I’ll buy you more watches. It’ll be great, you can stay home and watch the time pass, very peaceful, it’ll add years to your life.” The frown on Chepe’s face wasn’t one of disconcert but of ease, like his request was reasonable. 

“And waiting for you to come home will take them right off.” Pacho was turning around to look at Chepe now as he buttoned his sleeves with cufflinks. 

“Come back to bed and let me take all of that off.” Chepe was pushing the blanket on the empty side of bed down as an open invitation to Pacho. 

Pacho leaned forward, his knee touching the mattress so he could reach Chepe’s face. Inches away, tensions high, Pacho moved his hands up to the button on his shirt and closed his eyes to leave a soft, tender kiss on Chepe’s lips. As he pulled away, Chepe leaning in for more instinctually, Pacho spoke up at a whisper. 

“No.” 

Chepe’s eyes blinked open immediately, the frustration and shock were quickly moving in and leaving a less than happy expression on his face. Pacho took the whole thing humorously, a chuckle left his mouth before he finished buttoning the silk peacock blue shirt and kicked off the bed. 

“A la gran puta.” The words weren’t yelled, just mumbled as a slightly disgruntled and now sexually frustrated man realized he got played. 

“I’ll make it up to you tonight.” Pacho was still smiling, clearly satisfied with his act of teasing.

Chepe just rolled his eyes and waved his hand in a dismissive way, not to blow him off but to show he was still grumpy regardless of the promises to come. 

Pacho quickly made his way over and kissed Chepe again, the movement was so swift that Chepe was taken off guard by it but quickly took his hand to cup Pacho’s face. It was the hand with the cigarette still in it, so he was careful where his fingers landed but wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to kiss Pacho goodbye. Their passionate embrace lasted a few seconds before Pacho pulled away to speak against his lips. 

“Burning my shirt is just going to piss me off, not keep me here longer.” 

Chepe smiled now, “You’re fun when you’re mad.” 

The comment earned him a slight push just before Pacho made his way to the bedroom door. Chepe stayed in bed, laughing while he brought the last of the cigarette to his mouth, fully relaxed and at peace with the morning he shared with Pacho. The sound of the door opening but not closing made Chepe look over to see Pacho taking one step backwards, hand still on the door as he looked over his shoulder towards Chepe. 

“You know, you love laying in bed so much, I’ll buy you watches and maybe you could retire.” The smirk was growing on his face while it was fading from Chepe’s. “Feel free to watch the time while you wait for me to get home.”

Before another word could be spoken from either of them, Chepe grabbed one of Pacho’s silk pillows and threw it at the door that was rapidly closing on the other side. His laughs could be heard as he descended down the stairs. 

Chepe annoyingly looked around the room and the bed before making the same frown he had early, one of ease, like Pacho’s request was just the slightest bit reasonable. 

“I could watch the time.” He shrugged as he slouched more in the bed and lit up another cigarette as he brought his arm up to check his diamond dial watch that Pacho had gotten him for his birthday.

“Feel the years being added to my life as the seconds pass.”

[artemiseamoon]

Draft release: That one time

Pacho x Chepe ~ Chepe x f reader

An: no I am not writing reader inserts anymore, sticking to that choice. This is an old unreleased draft.

Words: 2189

Warnings: drinking, sexual activity

Read in full on A03

Hours after dinner, you, Chepe and Pacho hang out in the backyard. It was a perfect night, the moon full above and a nice breeze in the air. You were sitting on one couch, cuddled up against Chepe, and directly across from you both sat Pacho.

The two were reminiscing and sharing old stories. They were laughing about this one memory and if you didn't know both of them, you would believe the story was made up. It sounded too out of this world to be true, but you could imagine the both of them younger and up to lots of trouble. In the current story, Chepe was about 26 and Pacho also in his 20s but younger than Chepe.

As the story built, and they took turns filling in the details, that night from the past got crazier and crazier. Then, out of nowhere, you made a comment out loud that you meant to keep to yourself,

"Please tell me it ended with you making out."

As soon as you realized you said the words aloud, you clasped your hand over your mouth. "sorry." you muttered.

It's Pacho's daiquiris, you'll blame that. They're delicious and deadly.

Before your embarrassment could build any further, you noticed the look Pacho gave Chepe before taking a drink from the glass in his hand.

"Wait, no - " you lowered your hand and turned to Chepe, "wait...I saw that look!"

Read more on A03

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A03: Artemisamoon

More Narcos

[cositapreciosa]

Meeting Chepe in New York and him bring you back to Cali for a party/meeting the rest of the gang 👀

Red lipstick

Chepe Santacruz x female!reader (infidelity/cheating, mention of Y/N, mention of drug use, the usual for the show), 3679 words

a/n : - Yo Élise, where were you all this time? Were you dead?

- *cue to picture of that dry-ass taxidermy fox* seasonal depression my dude

As always it's the fictional, not the real deal, enjoy xx

You can see it as a business meeting, an opportunity for you to go bigger.

That is what Chepe had said to you one day as you met him for your usual drop. Offering you a trip to Colombia, to meet the big ones from overseas, those that completed his inner circle. You had been reselling for him for a few years now, never once coming to a dollar short and definitely ranking in the profit. Probably the best card you got in your deck, Santacruz, am I not?

You never were looking to make it big in this type of business. Selling just enough to be sure to stay afloat, pay your mortgage, feed the people you love, and buy those pieces of jewelry, that a year ago would have been for you a rent’s worth, just because you liked how they shined when you passed the counter display. Greed, envy, lust. It had crawled in your veins fast, venomous, pumping in your blood. Still, just enough to always buy your favorite, to-die-for, 90$ red lipstick every time it ran out, but never enough to get cocky, stupid, reckless.

You loved luxury, lived in it, smelled like it, but you always remembered how red your blood was, how easy it could be spilled. You saw the way the government was knocking more and more doors down, came for the smaller ones before fishing for the big sharks, but all the others didn’t. It’s a war, sweetheart, Chepe had called it, a war on drugs. Teeth filled with gold, snorting all types of white powders, guns-a-blazing, cuffed and judged by justice just as fast. There’s a quiet side to riches that those men never understood. It was what had separated you from the others who had climbed the ranks with you over the years, you had realized. Maybe that’s why you are here today, setting foot down a jet on Colombian soil, or maybe it was just the start of the hardest fall of your life.

As you looked at your shoes, already full of dust, you wondered if there was a time you had ever seen so much dirt on a landing strip before. You don’t have much time to think about it or to worry about the wind pushing your hair or the dirt in your mouth, that Chepe is already in front of you, arms wide open,

‘’ Bienvenido en la capital mundial de la salsa, sweetheart. ‘’

Your smile is bright, pulling at your cheeks, lips painted red, welcoming. A deadly trap. Chepe knows all of this, the facade that goes in the character you play. The survival instinct, the street smart. You made it this far didn’t you?

‘’ Well, I’m more of a bachata dancer myself, but I can make salsa work. ‘’

You had fucked him once. When his wife had been away, doing whatever she did when she went on those trips of hers. All teeth, handfuls of flesh, bent over the balcony. Maybe it had been more than once. Maybe you didn’t feel so bad because you knew she most likely did the same when she claimed she was going on shopping trips with friends. You could always tell with those women for some reason, you could see it in their eyes, it wasn’t hard to miss. You could see it in his too, how he had always known. If he cared or not was still the missing piece.

You take his extended hand to jump off the last step. The heat is heavy, weirdly humid, and dry at the same time. Still, his hand is steady, not a bead of sweat on his forehead, his usually heavy coat switched for a striped shirt. Colombiano born and raised. You did tell him stripes looked good on him once.

This is it, you thought, no turning back, the top of the ladder. The top of the food chain. You just have to shake hands and smile.

.

The ride to civilization had been bumpy, long, and trying your best to understand your driver with the thickest Costeño accent you had ever heard. A fair price to pay for landing on an illegal dirt patch in the middle of a Colombian jungle.

Chepe had left you with his driver and a bodyguard back at the landing field, slipping you in the passenger seat, making sure your hair didn’t get stuck in the door as he closed it,

‘’ I trust those two with my life. I’ll pick you up at the hotel tommorow ? ‘’

All teeth, handfuls of flesh, bent over the balcony.

‘’ How else am I supposed to empty the mini-bar then? ‘’

Hands gripping your waist, pining you against the shower wall.

It's later that day after he's been gone for hours and your lipstick has been reapplied, that he calls your room phone. You press your lips together, spreading the color evenly, as it rings some more. You take your finger up to your mouth, swiping the excess stain with your nail. Done. Your heels click on the marble floors on your way out of the bathroom,

‘’ Miss me already? ‘’

It's a party, he had said, near the water, you’ll love it.

He scoffs, as you disconnected the call. The more 6 o’clock gets near, the more all of your being screams at you to leave, clawing at your mind to run, not to look back. You know you should, that he would let you call it off and go back home. But the more you want it, the more you itch to open the safe where your passport is locked, and the more you realize you can’t.

You won’t.

The ride over there is less bumping than when you first got here. Jetlag is busting your ass, and your concealer is working hard to keep it unnoticed. Chepe is dressed up for the occasion as always. Chains, gold rings, a nice striped long-sleeved shirt. Maybe you’ll take all of it off tonight.

He’s driving this time, one hand on the wheel, the other on your thigh. You’re not sure if you like how familiar the move feels. Domestic. Wrong and right at the same time.

‘’ If this is about my wife, ‘’ he had said, with his arms around you, his chin in your hair, ‘’ I’ll leave her. ‘’

You had mentioned stopping everything when he had dropped by earlier. If I actually do this and meet them, I don’t think I can keep fucking you if I want to be taken seriously. Panic clawing at your chest, the reality of your work, the constant threats. There was no way for this to end well for you. For him.

‘’ Ask me and I’ll do it. I’ll call her right now. ‘’

He smelled like cigar and cologne, his palms sneaking under your shirt, warm on your stomach, soft, grounding,

‘’ This is not about her, ‘’ you had explained, head falling on his shoulder as he nuzzled into your neck, ‘’ This is about me, Chepe. About my work. Credibility. ‘’

His other hand pulled at your skirt, feeling the lace underneath. He molds you to him, unbelievably closer now. You felt him shiver against you, felt his breath behind your ear, the goosebump on your arms,

‘’ Tell me, ‘’ he had started with a groan, bringing the material over your waist, his other hand gently wrapping around your throat,

‘’ Tell me whoever dares, and I’ll make sure myself they never speak again. ‘’

You don’t doubt his words for a second.

The automatic light illuminates the garage as soon as Chepe drives the car in. You’ve never seen a garage this big. Cars lined up left to right, every one of them shinier than the other. What a waste of space.

He maneuvers his between two bright red-looking expensive ones. His toothpick rolls on his lips, leaning back against his seat, one hand on the wheel, as he changes gears. He couldn’t care less if he scratched one. Pocket change.

‘’ I probably should have stayed in my room and gotten another 8 hours of sleep. ‘’

He laughs, hearty, loud, deep, as if you’ve just told him the funniest joke of the night. His thumb rubs your thigh,

‘’ Are you going to stand me up? At your own party? ‘’

His attempt at lightening up the mood. In a way, it does, pushing your insecurities and anxieties to the side for a second. He can tell you hesitate, putting off the moment you step out of the car and have to do the grown-up illegal things you have gotten yourself into. You’re not that tired, caffeinated for two, and ready to throw punches if needed. Not that you would have to, with Chepe hot on your heels wherever you go, but it feels like it could calm you down, give you back some control maybe,

‘’ Oh, you’d do just fine I am sure. ‘’ you try to smile back.

You stay silent for a while, more like seconds really, but it feels relaxing and comforting. His hand is still warm on your skin. You always appreciated how he could understand those moments, never feeling like he had to fill it with words.

His thumb presses slightly on the inside of your thigh, bringing your attention back to him. It is darker now in the car, the automatic light having shut off seconds ago,

‘’ I wish I could introduce you as mine. ‘’

You can make out his side profile, the way his fingers drum on the wheel. You sigh,

‘’ José- ‘’

‘’ Ya, por favor, ‘’ he pleads, annoyed, ‘’ You always do this. ‘’

His hand comes up to scratch his stubble, moving down to where his neck meets his shoulder. He massages the skin, before his arm drops, defeated. Chepe moves in his seat, knees turning slightly to your side of the car. He leans toward you and you don’t understand why you feel nervous all of sudden. Anxious.

Homesick.

‘’ I know you think I’m not genuine. That I’m only saying this to make you happy. ‘’

For the first time in months, you don’t know what to say. He is right. Absolutely and utterly right. You don’t believe him when he says it. When he promises you travels, family parties, a career, a ring. You don’t believe easily, and you know what happens to the other women who naively listen and nod. You have seen it happen time and time again.

You sigh, falling back into your seat, trying to disappear inside the leather behind your back,

‘’ I like you a lot, Chepe. ‘’

You sigh, you don’t know where you are going with this. You can’t seem to be thinking ahead, about what you should say or not. Weirdly enough, in one of the most dangerous countries in the world, in an unknown garage, in a village you have forgotten the name of already, next to him, you feel safe. You don’t feel like you should tiptoe around his feelings, yours for that matter.

Your head rolls to the side to meet his gaze, your fingertips raising to touch his face. His brown eyes are on you, pupils blown from the darkness. Sharp nails follow his cheekbone softly, moving up to his freshly cut hair, pushing the loose grey strands back into place. His hand is on your wrist now, going up and down as he caresses the skin,

‘’ A lot. ‘’ you scoff, you realize.

So do I, he wants to say, Y yo a ti, his silence means. You want to lean in, break the space between you, kiss him, end this conversation and force him to bring you inside. You meet his eyes again as your nails roam behind his ear. You know he would let you, but here, today, you don’t think this is what you want,

‘’ We are being honest here, right? ‘’ he whispers, like a secret being shared between you two. You nod softly,

‘’ Talk to me. Tell me. ‘’ The truth, he means, how you really feel about this, ‘’ I’ve got all night. ‘’

You know he means it. Chepe would stay in this car all night if you decided to, he can tell how different the moment has gotten. Twenty minutes ago you would have laughed to tears, reapplied your lipstick, and gotten out of the car. The facade that goes in the character you play. He is still not sure what changed, but it makes him want you to be honest with him, to be true to what you know. Goosebumps spreads across your arm, following the warmth of his palm,

‘’ I want it. ‘’ you begin, toes wiggling inside your heel, trying to keep your knee from bouncing, ‘’ When you say you want to introduce me as yours. ‘’

It takes all his being not to surge forward to take your face between his hands. Then let me, let me. Your breath comes out shaky when you exhale as if you had been holding it for the last minute,

‘’ I am being honest, ‘’ you reassured, he knows you are. You had had deep conversations with Chepe before, nights spent sitting on your balcony, smoking and talking about life and all the things in between. His past, yours. Colombia, New York. Your hand falls to his neck, gently stroking his stubble with your thumb. It’s rough and it’s keeping you grounded, in the car, with him,

‘’ I wouldn’t mind if you did. ‘’ you admit, ‘’ I’d let you. ‘’

You don’t feel weak for telling him like you thought you would. Chepe brings your palm to his mouth, kissing the skin softly. Saying anything else would ruin the moment, and you are thankful he stays silent again. You can hear the music inside, voices laughing and screaming behind the closed door, and you know it is time for you to go and join the crowd. Do what you came here to do in the first place.

You lean between the seats, the cup holder pushing painfully against your ribs, and your hand falls from his lips as you rest your head against his shoulder. His shirt is coarse on your cheek and his fingers soft when he intertwines them with yours. Your thumbnail traces shapes on the back of his hand while you speak again,

‘’ I don’t think I’ve ever been this anxious in my whole life. ‘’

‘’ I wouldn’t have brought you here if I didn’t think you were up for it. ‘’

You hmm, and he can feel the sound vibrate through his shoulder,

‘’ It’s what you do back home, but here. Your Spanish is great, you’ll fit right in, mija. ‘’ he reassures,‘’ I’ll take care of you. ‘’

He emphasizes the words by gently squeezing your joint hands. You know he will, he always does. You know lots of things about him and that lying, to you at least, is not something he would do. We are being honest here, right? You reluctantly let him go, motioning to him to go ahead, body pulling away, your hand sliding back to your thigh. As he gets out of the car, the lights illuminate the garage again. Bright, blinding. Your eyes follow him around the hood of the car until he reaches your door, pulling it open,

‘’ Let’s do some work now, hm? ‘’

He presents his hand to you, his heart skipping a beat when you accept it, pressing yours against his while your swing your legs to the side to get out.

One step after the other, your heels click on the cement as you walk towards the door that leads inside the house. Breathe, smile, shake hands, repeat. Chepe’s hand reaches blindly for you behind him, and you grab it, just like he expects you to do. Blood is pumping in your ears, so loud that it is almost overtaking the music around you. This is exactly where you want to be, precisely what you planned. Inhale with the nose, and exhale through the mouth. It doesn’t come as fast as you would’ve liked, but slowly, air fills up your lungs. It is a weird feeling, really, how after only a few breaths you can feel your body tingle, calm and lightheaded. Revigorated. All part of the facade.

Your smile doesn’t falter when you meet the first few people, low associates, executants. It is bright, all white teeth and red lipstick. They make no comment, no sarcastic remarks about Chepe’s hand on your back, you let him lower it, let it curve around your waist. His eyes burning and threatening enough that no one dares to look for too long.

Your cheeks hurt, jaw a bit sore from speaking Spanish for the past hour, but the wine feels good and bitter down your throat, helping make those meetings bearable. Chepe is beaming, all laughs and handshakes, like a true socialite, a fish in water. You enjoy watching him more than you do partake in this whole thing. It is different for him here, and you can tell. You thought you would have been the last one arriving at the house, and as much as Chepe shuts down any remarks about the time you spent in the garage and as much as you pretend not to understand what they imply, you know words have already spread in the villa. Staying civilized in this jungle is harder than you would have thought.

It happens merely minutes after Chepe excuses himself to fill up your drink, the shift in the room. How everyone stands taller, pushes their shoulders back, sobering up. Whoever supplier Chepe left you with does not have eyes for you anymore. Here they are. The lions.

You see Pacho first, in the corner of your eye. You can tell it is him, from his silk shirt to his waxed brown shoes, from Chepe’s stories, there is no doubt in your mind. You have to bite first, you think, use this fake confidence to your advantage, and make this meeting yours. Your new wannabe-gangster friend had already abandoned you the second they entered the room. You have no choice but to stand your ground and stay tall too.

You force a smile on your cheeks as you turn to him, charming and warm. Pain and Chepe’s absence be damned. Pacho’s smile mirrors your own, like an old friend, a deadly trap. You like him already, you decide, not so different from you, you can tell. Cunning. Smart.

Your glass of wine is quickly put back in your hands, splashing around in the cup, as your man pushes at the guests around you to meet Pacho’s embrace with a laugh. They exchange quickly in Spanish, how are you doing, how’s the weather over there ? You let them catch up, soaking in how easily the moment flows, perfectly happy to stand on the sideline.

Chepe half turns to you, still going on to Pacho about this plane story of his that you have been waiting for the punchline for a while now. His hand finds your waist, absently bringing you closer to the two of them.

‘’ Hermano, ‘’ he begins, ‘’ Let me introduce you. ‘’

You don’t know what burns more, his warm fingers pressing gently into your skin or how Pacho’s eyes catch him doing it. You had agreed to this, but still, stares and looking eyes make you feel uncomfortable. He leads, you remind yourself, he knows, let him.

‘’ This is Y/N, ‘’ Chepe smiles, chest puffed out, proud, ‘’ My favorite partner in crime. ‘’

Pacho’s eyes are back on you, not on Chepe, not on his hand on your back. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. The air feels lighter, your fingers regain color around your glass. You let yourself fall back slightly into Chepe’s embrace, putting some of your weight on him. You share some stories about Pacho’s favorite clubs in New York, how you have to change entry port from now on after the last DEA bust, and how the margins are still going up even though.

‘’ You want another? ‘’ Chepe leans towards you, softly speaking the words in your ear, nodding to your empty cup,

‘’ I’d love that. ‘’ you say back, turning, nose almost catching his, ‘’ Maybe white this time, please? ‘’

‘’ Por supuesto, reina. ‘’

You don’t miss how Pacho’s eyes flicker back for a second on Chepe as he leaves. Pacho clears his throat, looking at you over his whiskey,

‘’ So, ‘’ he starts, ‘’ Favorite partner, favorite reina. ‘’

You nod, sending a smile his way, playful, trying to keep it civilized,

‘’ I’m his favorite lie detector too. I’m never wrong.‘’

Pacho laughs, thank god. He holds out his hand to you, and you put yours in his, giving it a nice shake,

‘’ You take care of him good? ‘’

His hand is firm in yours, he makes no move to withdraw, standing there, a step closer now. You get it then, why his handshake is so strong, why his eyes are sharp and serious, menacing. Brotherhood.

‘’ I do. ‘’ you stand your ground, hand unmoving, arm strong and chin up, ‘’ As he does to me. ‘’

He lets go of your hand as he turns to discard his drink, switching it for two champagne glasses that he swiftly takes from a nearby waiter,

‘’ Good. Good.‘’

You watch him look around, almost bored, unimpressed by all the festivities. Pacho takes a sip first, nodding in approval before holding up the second flute toward you for you to grab,

‘’ You know what I think, Y/N? ‘’

He smiles at you, knowing, sincere. He toasts the rim of his glass against yours, making a stream of bubbles burst from the bottom,

‘’ I think you and I will do great things around here. ‘’

[hausofmamadas]

ISACHEPE | the office romance that started it all aka that got ya girl on all this bullshit

♫ To the tune of not!90s but still basically a 90s bop, Finesse by Bruno Mars ft. the indispensable flavor and spice that is Cardi B ♫

✧

Look ... when I rejoined Tumblr to stalk such content creators as @thesolotomyhan, @narcosmx, @ashlingnarcos, @artemiseamoon, and so many others, pasado deciembre, my plan was to be a life-long lurker. The little stalker at the edge of every ask inbox. And yet ... almost a full ass year later, and I've fallen into the deep chasm of content creation for this, our most micro of fandoms. And we have this mf pairing to thank right here.

Because back sometime around New Years, cue me fiendishly searching for gifs of that legendary scene where Isabella and Miguel go to Colombia to meet with Cali wherein Isabella single-handedly seals the deal with the wiles of a fortune 500 CEO and the sex appeal of a regular Jessica Rabbit and what fucking thanks did she get?? nada porque carajo Miguel era un pinshe hijo de lashingada of the highest order, in disguise but I digress wherein Chepe and Isabella proceed to eye fuck THE ABSOLUTE SHIT out of each other in the most delicious possible gotdamn way and end the meet on the promise of dancing which was never fucking fulfilled and to my great shock and surprise. THERE WERE NONE. So, instead of crying myself to sleep into my pillow, which don't worry, I did. For other reasons aka my ongoing divorce I decided I was gonna learn how to gif because the fucking LEWKS between these two needed to be giffed. They needed to exist in the world. Which I did and now they do just if you were wondering.

And then gifs, led to vids, and vids led to fics aka Dinarron, the epic sojourn that has become my life's work somehow ?? sksk and now here tf we are. And mi gente, lo siento mucho enserio, porque you weys are stuck with me. Pegados. We all have our burdens to shoulder skskks and I'm yours, yoursowelcome. Anyway, without further ado, please enjoy my slice of IsaChepe.

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taglist: @ashlingnarcos @cherixrosa @narcolini @cositapreciosa @purplesong1028 @tinylittleobsessions @mmasalvafics @mmasalva @marrianena @carlislecullenisadilf @artemiseamoon @thesolotomyhan @criatividad-e @southotheborder @mandaloria314 @bellinitini @ashlingiswriting @narcos-narcosmx @narcosmx @kesskirata @curaheed @masalvas-girl @alreadywritten @gangstababydoli @cigarettesaftersunset @fleurfatale89

[purplesong1028]

A Forest Tale

Chapter 3: Body and Soul

Fantasy, AU, !Fox Pacho, !Shapeshifter Pacho

Rating: General Audience

Paring: Chepe/Pacho

Words: 2,919

They drive out of downtown Cali and back into the mountains, with a dozen bags of new human clothes on the backseat. Pacho peeks at them from the rear mirror. Do humans need so many clothes because they can get dirty, or because they want to look good? If someone already looks great, do they need fewer pieces of clothing, or will they want more?

Chepe takes another turn deep into an area of thick forest. It’s unbelievable how fast the car can go. If he were to come to this area as a fox, it’d take him days, but it takes less than 30 minutes with a car.

“Remember the thing I told you earlier?”

“Sure, which one? I remember everything.” He knows humans can forget a lot of things, but he doesn’t. In fact, his powers make him unable to forget.

“We were supposed to go somewhere else, before the whole clothes issue came up.”

“Right, you need me to do something with my magic?”

“Yeah, and here we are!”

They pull over next to a dirty, old building, and the guards give him a slightly suspicious glance as they open the heavy metal door for Chepe. This building feels very different from Chepe’s house: dark, chilly, with an unpleasant smell of blood and mold. Pacho carefully keeps his distance from the wall, so his new human clothes don’t get tainted.

“Come, this way!” Chepe leads him downstairs. “So this mind thing that you do, how does it work exactly? Can you just read someone’s brain?”

“Not exactly.” Pacho tries to find the correct terms. Sometimes there’s simply no human words to explain what he can or cannot do. “I can’t tell what you’re thinking right now, every second, as it happens. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah that’s fine, I don’t need you to do that. What about someone’s past? Can you tell?” They make a few more turns, stopping in front of a rusted door by the end of a narrow corridor.

“The entire past? I can, but it would take days for me to tell you someone’s life.”

“No, not the entire past!” Chepe laughs frustratedly. “You see, I need to ask this guy some questions, yeah? I just need to know if he’s telling the truth.”

“Oh! Then yes, that’s very easy to do.”

“Excelente!” Chepe opens the large lock and pushes the door open.

Inside the dark cell is a man tied up to a chair. His clothes are ripped, stained with dirt and dry blood. His face is all bruised up and swollen; the right eye barely opens as he looks at them.

“Come on then! Show me your magic.”

“Did you do this to him because he didn’t tell you the truth?” Pacho turns to look at Chepe in genuine surprise— the same person who made him breakfast and took him shopping just a few hours ago.

Chepe holds his stare in a candid yet slightly amused expression. “Is that a problem?”

“I mean, is this usually what humans do to other humans when they aren’t honest? That’s…a bit strange.”

“Oh, no! We lie all the time, but this situation is a bit more complicated.” Chepe locks the rusty door again behind them. “Look, you said you wanted to try alcohol later, right? We have all the time for questions then. How about we just finish up here, so we can skip to the good part, hm?”

Pacho doesn’t really like that tone. He can’t say exactly why, but he’s seen how humans speak to their young children, and weirdly, Chepe reminds him of that right now.

“Ok, you just want him to answer your questions truthfully. That’s it?”

“Yup.”

“Do you need him alive after that?”

That seems to take Chepe by surprise for a brief moment. “Why? Whatever you do, does it kill him?”

“No, but if you don’t need him alive, can I eat his soul afterwards?”

“What?! Wait you…what?” The way Chepe shouts his words is almost identical to yesterday, when Pacho first turned into a human.

“Right. You know I don’t need to eat food, and I get my energy in other ways, sí?” Pacho can’t help but smile as he explains. It’s very interesting, because every single person they have interacted with today seems to hold some respect, and even fear for Chepe, but he doesn’t see why. He doesn’t find him that scary at all.

“Basically, human’s soul is a great source of energy, if I can have it.”

“Um…sure, help yourself, I guess.” Chepe shrugs, still looking a bit shocked at the new discovery. “Only after he speaks.”

“Of course.”

Pacho walks over to the man, who’s silently staring up at him, more confused than terrified. Right, he and Chepe just had the soul eating conversation right in front of him.

Well, it doesn’t matter now. He locks their eyes. “Relax, this doesn’t hurt.”

He loves eyes. Doesn’t matter what they look like: blue or dark, tiny or large. They’re beautiful little round doors leading directly to the minds behind them, and minds… Minds are the most fascinating thing about humans.

Pacho doesn’t know how exactly he does it, and he can’t explain or teach it even if he wanted to. It’s like he’s simultaneously at two places: standing right in front of the man in this room, but also inside of his brain, surrounded by all his memories, thoughts and emotions.

“I’m in. Ask whatever you want.”

*

“The fire at our warehouse three days ago, you started it, right?”

“Yes.”

There’s silence. The man isn’t saying anything more because that was a yes or no question, and he already answered. Pacho looks over at Chepe, who’s staring right back at him, and that’s when he realizes Chepe’s actually waiting for him to confirm before asking more questions.

“It’s the truth.” He says. He knows it’s the truth, but he’s not really digging into this person’s past memories to find the answer himself. All he does is to put the mind to a state of complete relaxation and vulnerability, so the person is incapable of lying.

“Who gave you the order?”

“La Quica.” Out of curiosity, Pacho takes a look at La Quica as the thought passes him. Nothing interesting, just a young man with curly hair.

“Did La Quica tell you why?”

“You fucking know why.” The man sneers, also unable to hide any true emotions. “We had a deal! LA is Medellín’s territory, and you assholes didn’t keep your hands out of it. That’s fucking disrespect.”

”Disrespect, hmm?” Chepe also snorts. “So what was that fire, a warning?”

“A lesson.”

“A lesson, I see.” Chepe slowly walks towards the prisoner, and Pacho spares a glance just to make sure he’s still securely tied to the chair —— pure hatred and rage are consuming this man, and sometimes a human’s body has incredible potential when their mind is overtaken by emotions. Pacho’s capable of physically overpowering any human, but only when he’s also grounded in reality. When he’s inside people’s minds, there’s very little his body can do.

“Are there any more lessons planned?”

“That depends on you guys. Patrón said Gilberto should know the right thing to do.”

Who’s this patrón? Pacho searches through his mind, and it seems like this person hasn’t really met the patrón face to face that many times, but it sure came up a lot in conversations he had with other people. From what he could gather, it looks like a middle aged overweight man. He’s about to search for the name, when Chepe calls out to him.

“That’s all I need to know. He’s all yours.”

“Thank you!” Pacho says, both with his physical body and inside the person’s mind, which freaks the prisoner out, but it doesn’t matter, once he takes the soul, it will be all over.

He takes a deep breath, can’t help but feel a bit overexcited. This is going to be his first human soul. He’s heard so much about it, how it’s supposed to be the most wonderful feeling in the world when the pure energy is extracted and consumed, melting into their own magic… He considered just trying it on some random human, when he first gained full power a few months ago, but there was never a good opportunity. It’d be super weird if he just possessed someone on the street, and let that person drop dead a minute later.

But this, a prisoner already weakened and injured, likely not going to live anyway, is the perfect opportunity.

Pacho reaches out with his own energy, wide into the realm of consciousness, and starts consuming. Wow…it feels like everything he’s imagined, but better, more powerful. He can perceive everything about this man’s life at the same time, yet each detail is crystal clear. He is absorbing someone, and every essence of this person’s existence now belongs to him, until the mind is left with nothing but absolute blankness.

He stays inside the empty mind for a while to calm himself down, and then slowly exits the dead place, opening his eyes again inside his own body.

*

“That was fucking unbelievable!” He turns to Chepe, unable to hide his immense exhilaration. “I wish I could show you how it feels!”

But Chepe’s reaction doesn’t match his excitement at all, and he’s just silently staring with a complicated expression. It looks like a mix of many emotions, but mainly just shock and some caution. He could have gone into Chepe’s mind as well to figure out the other emotions, but Chepe did tell him not to do that earlier.

“What? What is it?” He looks down and sees his own hands and arms, now covered in a layer of soft golden glow, like sunlight is attached to his skin. “Oh, interesting! How long has it been like that?”

“Not long, a few seconds.” Chepe glances at the lifeless body. “What exactly did you do in there?”

“It’s hard to explain.” He answers honestly. “I took his soul. I can just do that, like you can’t really explain how humans swallow food, right?”

“Right, and does that make you stronger or?”

“It does, but one soul won’t really make a difference.” He feels his own power inside, just to confirm the conclusion. “But say if I take 50, I’ll definitely become a lot stronger.”

“50,” Chepe repeats, like he’s convincing himself of this reality, “and you can do that to anyone.”

“Anyone.”

“Yeah, I need some fucking fresh air.”

“But quality also matters.” Pacho catches up, “A soul is a soul, but this one wasn’t that good.”

“No surprise there!” Chepe says sarcastically. “God would certainly agree with you on that.”

Pacho has heard humans talking about a God, and from the contexts, it seems like they are referring to some sort of higher power, but that doesn’t exist, right? He hasn’t met one creature that’s more powerful than his kind.

“It’s not because he wasn’t a good person, if that’s what you mean.” They make the same turns as they came in earlier, until the heavy metal door appears at the end of a narrow corridor, and he stops talking when he sees the guards. He can get into the details later.

The guards open the door for them, and sunlight shines through, blindingly bright, inviting them to step outside, back into the warm, lively world.

“Well, if you haven’t figured it out, none of us are good people here.” Chepe continues, once they’re far enough from the guards.

“I think that’s quite clear.” Pacho thinks about the man they just killed as they walk back to the car. “But it’s alright! Your good and bad are human standards, and they don’t matter to me.”

Chepe closes the car door, harder than necessary. “They should, if you’re pretending to be one!”

“I’ll try to pretend better?”

“No, that’s not…” Chepe runs a hand down his face. “Look, I know you think you can do anything because of your powers and whatever, but it’s really more complicated than that, alright?”

“I know that. That’s why we’re fascinated by humans in the first place, remember?”

Chepe rolls his eyes in pure frustration, but doesn’t say anything more. Pacho watches him turning the key, and the car starts moving again.

“I don’t get it.” He turns to the human, who’s now focused on the road. “I only did what you asked.”

The road is empty and they’re the only car here, but Chepe only spares him a brief glance, and it gives him a strange new human feeling, like sourness spreading in his chest.

“It’s not your fault, ok? You didn’t do anything wrong, as long as you don’t start eating the souls of random people.”

“No! Of course not.” He’s not sure if that’s a joke, but it puts a smile back on his face. “But if you are killing anyone else, I’ll take them.”

Chepe laughs at that, loud and genuine.

“So? Are we good?” He asks, just to make sure, because he’s still having trouble understanding the whole thing. Do human emotions always change this fast, for no apparent reason? He wishes he could just get into Chepe’s brain, and it’d be so much easier.

“Let me ask you this.” Chepe doesn’t answer his question, and instead gives him a new one. “What if I tell you to do something without letting you get anything in return? Say if I ask you to burn someone to death, so you won’t be able to get their soul.”

“I don’t see why you can’t do that yourself, but yeah, I don’t mind doing it.”

“Without getting anything for yourself?”

“You’re still introducing the human world to me, right?” He turns to Chepe. The afternoon sunlight is on their left side at the moment, directly shining through the window on the driver's side, making him squint a little. “The food, the clothes, and many other things I hope. That’s what I’m getting in return, for myself.”

Chepe looks genuinely amused, but it’s mixed with disbelief. “For that, you will do whatever I tell you?”

Pacho’s first instinct is to say yes. It was his own offer, and whatever Chepe might want him to do, it should be effortless for him, so what’s the problem? But still, he stops himself from answering immediately, and takes a bit more time to consider possibilities. Maybe he’s missing something crucial, because Chepe’s tone makes the question sound more like a challenge or bait, like he’s expecting Pacho to say no.

“I will do what I’m able to, as long as it doesn’t hurt me.” He ends up saying. “But I don’t think you can, or want to hurt me.”

“What makes you think I don’t want to? Didn’t I just tell you none of us are good people here?”

“I think…you’re not good to some other humans.” Pacho tries to put his thoughts into words. The language isn’t the challenge, but explaining what’s happening in his own mind can be such a sticky thing, so much more difficult than reading someone else’s. “But you’ve been good to me. That’s what matters.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake…” Chepe shakes his head, laughing in an almost defeated manner. “Alright, guess we can leave it at that.”

*

They are quiet for the rest of the drive. It’s clear that Chepe doesn’t want to continue the conversation, at least not on the same topic, so Pacho turns his attention to outside, observing the fast moving scenery.

They get back to the house, and a guard greets Chepe with a wary expression. “I’m very sorry, patrón. We couldn’t find your fox.”

“What?” It takes Chepe a brief moment to remember his own order this morning. “Oh right, that’s fine. It probably ran back to the woods, just leave it be.”

The guard nods, eyes widening in surprise, and hurries to leave the room.

“Can I ask you something?” Pacho calls out before the human can walk away.

Chepe turns back around, leaning on a large wooden shell full of human artworks and crafts. “Usually you just ask.”

That’s right, but this question feels different, more personal. “You don’t torture animals when you hunt, so how comes that you torture your own kind?”

“That’s a fucking good question.” Chepe chuckles, looking truly impressed. “I’m not sure you’ll understand the answer though, even if I tell you.”

“I’ll try.”

“You will, but not today.” Chepe reaches up and claps a hand on his shoulder. “I need to go prepare for a meeting later. Why don’t you go look around the house, try on your new clothes or something, I’ll be back before dinner.”

He only registers half of the words. All his attention immediately goes to the left shoulder where Chepe’s palm is. The contact makes him instinctively tense up.

“What’s wrong now?” Chepe quickly drops his hand. “You can’t be touched?”

“No, I can.” He shakes himself out of it. “That was just the first time I physically touched a human.”

“Wait, really?! Didn’t you live 500 years?”

“When I’m also in my human form, I mean. It feels different for some reason.” He covers his shoulder, still feeling the residual sensation from the brief contact. “Don’t worry, I’ll get used to the human body.”

Many different emotions flash across Chepe’s face: awkwardness, confusion, and something new, something he really can’t decipher.

“Right, ok. I’ll see you later then.”

Guess they’ll leave it at that.

@ashlingiswriting @yourlocalspacewitxch @mandaloria314 @drabbles-mc @cherixrosa @cheesybadgers @cositapreciosa @criatividad-e @alreadywritten @narcolini @mon-capuccino @amane-otaku @sikkui

[onepiece-polls]

OPLA fan cast polls - Sir Crocodile prelims A

The top 2 will advance.

Propaganda under the cut.

Patrick Page: IF (and only if) Crocodile is cast male, who better than Mr. Hades himself? …or Green Goblin if you want to remember Turn off the Dark.

Laith Ashley: Transmasc, Latino, and has beautiful eyes, I think he would make for a pretty good Crocodile!

Pêpê Rapazote: he’s a Portuguese actor known for his role as Chepe from Narcos and Narcos: Mexico. he has a deep voice, a great smolder, and i think a scar running across his nose would look very cute. seriously, watch the Narcos shootout salon scene on youtube if you don’t believe me.

[lethal-amigos]

What the Jose's workers have to deal with when Jose and Chepe comes back from Encanto. 😆

Animation by @my-gunpowder

[narcosfandomdiscord]

narcos october masterlist i

This masterlist is for days 1-10 of the @narcosfandomdiscord's october prompt event, which you can read about here and join in!

For days 11 onwards, check out the second masterlist and the third masterlist.

(Note: character x character indicates a romantic/sexual relationship; character & character indicates a platonic one.)

October 1 — Day of Firsts

Create a fanwork about a canon character you’ve never written about/used before.

↳ fanart by @tofuwildcard — Javi smoking, digital art

↳ Claro Que No by @drabbles-mc — Chepe x gn!Reader, 462

↳ Waiting Red by @narcolini — Isabelle x Chepe vampire AU, 600

↳ Depth Over Distance by @proceduralpassion — Mika & OC sibling backstory, 2.2k

↳ For Old Time's Sake by @garbinge — Carrillo x Reader, Steve and Javi & Reader, angst, 3.5k

↳ In the morning by @artemiseamoon — Marta x Amado established relationship, 2.8k

↳ Vengeance For Me by @kesskirata — Gustavo & Tata angst, ficlet

↳ what we do now by @ashlingnarcos — Feistl x Van Ness post-canon, 1k

↳ Tu cómplice by @hausofmamadas — Mayo x Benjamín pining, 2.8k

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October 2 — “Porque No Los Dos?” Day

Create a crossover for the original Narcos show and the Narcos: Mexico show, featuring at least one character for each.

↳ Looking On by @drabbles-mc — season 3 og DEA & season 2 mx DEA, unite! 3.5k

↳ How Do You Do This Shit For Fun? by @proceduralpassion — Walt & Javi crossover, 1k

↳ Late nights, early mornings by @artemiseamoon — Javi & OFC, Mayo x OFC, 1.8k

↳ two tests by @ashlingnarcos — Carrillo & Trujillo & Calderoni ficlet

Anything involving polyamory, ex: a fic about somebody who has two or more partners.

↳ Aggressive Negotiations by @kesskirata — Javi x Steve x Connie, 1.1k

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October 3 — Day of Music

Create and post a playlist for fic/wip of yours OR your favorite episode and explain why each song resonates for that fic/wip or episode.

↳ Three playlists by @rerorero-my-cherry — for Ramon x OFC fic Sola con mi Soledad

↳ Playlist for episode 2.1, Salva El Tigre by @artemiseamoon

Put your favorite playlist on shuffle and whatever song comes up first, that’s your prompt.

↳ Tainted by @drabbles-mc — Carrillo & Steve angst, 3.1k

↳ I need you tonight by @artemiseamoon — Amado x OFC, 1.1k

↳ on your mind by @narcolini — Javi x gn!reader ficlet

↳ Amado fanart by @tofuwildcard

↳ Foldin' Clothes by @garbinge — Steve Murphy x F!Reader, 3.2k

↳ Promise by @proceduralpassion — Carrillo x OFC smut

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October 4 — Day of Conflict

Many people seemed to combine both prompts for this day! Ambitious day.

Anything involving a fistfight or a gunfight.

Quote prompt: “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

↳ Who You're Dealing With by @drabbles-mc — Steve & Javi & OFC, 3k

↳ Luna de Lobo by @artemiseamoon — Ramón x OFC, Barron x OFC

↳ Country Store Cherry Chocolate by @garbinge — Steve Murphy & Reader (his sister), 1.9k

↳ Unwritten by @proceduralpassion — Carrillo x OFC, 1.1k

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October 5 — Day of Visual Art

Visual fanworks: post a screenshot, meme, gif, gifset, video, or other non-fic visual fanwork.

↳ a glitchy Pachito by @tofuwildcard — fanart

↳ NUGGETS OF BENJAMAYO by @hausofmamadas — gifset + commentary

↳ If Narcos Had A Group Chat by @proceduralpassion — video of groupchat texts

↳ If Narcos Had A Group Chat pt ii by @proceduralpassion — video of groupchat texts

Create a fanwork about a character interacting with a piece of art (e.g. buying decoration for a new home, stealing a piece, hitting on a stranger at a gallery, creating art themselves, etc)

↳ Things I Should Have Said by @garbinge — Javi x F!Reader, 2k

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October 6 — Day of International Relations

Write non-English language fic.

↳ Dos Opciones by @proceduralpassion — language: Spanish, Maria Elvira x Miguel, Maria Elvira x OFC, ficlet

↳ ¿Qué? by @ashlingnarcos — language: Spanish, Eduardo x OFC, ficlet

Use a random country picker and utilize that country in your work in some way: a character is from that country, a food from that country shows up, there’s international politics, etc. You get two rerolls if you don’t like the first or second country you get. If you get the United States, reroll automatically.

↳ House Special by @drabbles-mc — county: Japan, Walt x F!Reader, 3k

↳ Lespwa fe viv by @artemiseamoon — country: Haiti, Chepe x OFC, 1.3k

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October 7 — Day of Darkness

Make something centered around non-death dark topics (we have a specific death day already). Morally or emotionally dark topics/themes.

↳ The Oil Has Run Thin by @proceduralpassion — Walt x OFC ficlet

↳ Twenty-Four Hours by @drabbles-mc — Carrillo & gn!Reader captivity 1.4k

One-word prompt: Blackout.

↳ Control pt 1 by @artemiseamoon — Verdin x OFC smut, 1.6k

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October 8 — Day of Light

A day of pure fluff: anything insanely, unambiguously, self-indulgently, luxuriously enjoyable.

↳ Moving Day by @drabbles-mc — Steve x Connie fluff, 1.1k

↳ Happiest I've Ever Been by @proceduralpassion — Steve x Connie fluff ficlet

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October 9 — Day of Gay

Create anything devoted to an LGBTQ+ character.

↳ Watching Time by @garbinge — Chepe x Pacho ficlet

↳ Bisexually-lit Dina by @tofuwildcard — fanart

Create anything with a queer and/or trans original character or reader insert.

↳ Down in the 305 by @drabbles-mc — Steve x M!Reader

↳ Would You Kill For Me, My Love? by @proceduralpassion — Pacho x OMC ficlet

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October 10 — Day of Tough Shit

Write a fic whose exact wordcount is divisible by 500 (500, 1000, 1500, etc).

↳ The distance between you & me by @artemiseamoon — Calderoni x OFC post-divorce 1.5k

↳ Four People You Meet by @drabbles-mc — Carrillo x Juliana, Carrillo & Martinez, 500

↳ Talking Heads by @ashlingnarcos — Arellano family humor, 500

↳ The Bungalow by @proceduralpassion — Amado x Reader, 500

Make a fanwork in a medium you’ve never used before. If you make GIFs, write something. If you write, draw. Etc. As long as it’s uncharted territory for you!

↳ Hi, I'm a Slut (Amado's Version) by @tofuwildcard — fanvid

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↳ narcos october masterlist ii with prompts from day 11 onwards

[drabbles-mc]

Flying In (1)

Mayans MC & Narcos Crossover

For @narcosfandomdiscord's Day of Cross-Fandom Pollination: create a fanwork that includes at least one Narcos character and at least one character from another fandom

Warnings: 18+, language, canon-typical shenanigans of both shows

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: The way that this started out as just a silly little idea that me and Anj had. And now I wanna write a whole novel about them all sksksk. I already plan to write another installment of this universe for another day in the challenge, because @garbinge was kind enough to loan me her OC Lara Losa, but here is the first little look behind the curtain! I can't wait to write more with all of them.

Part 2

Flying In Taglist: @ashlingnarcos @hausofmamadas @narcolini @cositapreciosa @justreblogginfics @proceduralpassion @artemiseamoon (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

When Lara walked into the clubhouse, she found Bishop sitting at one of the tables, phone pressed to his ear. The heel of his other hand was pressed into the space between his eyebrows, and even though most of his face was blocked, Lara could still see the annoyed frown on his face. Even if she hadn’t been looking at him, she could’ve guessed that that was the expression on his face, and nine times out of ten she would’ve been right.

“Yeah,” he said into the phone, “sounds good. See you then.” He ended the call and immediately tossed his phone onto the table with a groan. “Fuck me.”

She would’ve felt bad for laughing at his response if he wasn’t like that so often. “Sounded like a fun call,” she said as she pulled out the chair across from him and plopped down.

He tried to give her an annoyed look but it only lasted for a couple seconds before he caved and chuckled. “Not fun for me. Might end up being fun for you, though.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Oh, really?” She drummed her fingertips against the tabletop. “Color me curious.”

Bishop sighed. “That was your Tío Gilberto. Updating me on his fuckin’ travel plans.”

“No shit?”

“Yeah.”

Lara laughed. “Thought you’d be a little more excited to see your brother.”

He shot her a look. “It’s not like he’s here for a fuckin’ vacation, Lalo.”

She rolled her eyes at him with a smile as she leaned back in her chair. “What, you don’t think that he’s coming to nice, scenic Santo Padre just to unwind?”

“No,” he said flatly, not feeding into the game she was trying to play, “I don’t.”

“Why are you acting like this is the first time he’s come here for business? Just upset that he’s not flying all the way up here just to see you?”

“You know the answer to that.”

“So?” Lara pressed. “What’s the problem this time? Old shit or new shit?”

Bishop gave a reply that fell outside both the choices she’d given him. “He’s not traveling alone.”

“Nicolás?”

He huffed. “No.”

Another second of looking at the expression on his face caused all of the pieces to come together for Lara. His annoyance, his hesitation, his assumption that she was going to be excited about the news. It’d been a handful of years since the last time she’d seen him, but she had a good feeling that it was the right guess. “Chepe?” she asked, far more excited and hopeful than she knew she should’ve been given her father’s prevalent annoyance.

“The one and fuckin’ only,” he grumbled.

Lara burst out laughing, excitedly treating the table they were sitting at like a drum as she rapped against it. “Let’s go!”

Bishop shook his head at her. “You’re ridiculous. Two peas in a fuckin’ pod, both of you.”

“That why you only let him visit once every five years?” she asked through her laughter. When Bishop didn’t come back with an answer, she moved onto her next question. “When do they get here?”

“Day after tomorrow.”

If she had been standing, she would’ve been nearly doubled over with laughter. “Finally learned not to give you too much of a heads-up. No excuses this way.” Taking a deep breath to get herself calm again, she said, “I can pick them up from the airport if you—”

“Absolutely not.”

“You think they’re gonna get in the van with the fucking prospect?” she asked with a scoff as she gestured over to the bar where EZ stood. She continued before Bishop could argue. “And I know you don’t wanna make that drive.”

He knew that she was right on both counts. There was no way that either of those men were going to get into a vehicle with some guy they’ve never met before, even if he was wearing the same kutte as Bishop’s. They knew Taza and Hank, but Bishop also didn’t really want to send them on the errand either.

“Fine,” he finally gave in with a grumble. Before Lara could get too excited, he pointed his finger at her accusingly. “But you’re not fuckin’ going alone.”

That was a compromise that Lara could live with. She was going through the roster in her head, people that Bishop would feel somewhat comfortable sending with her versus people she wanted to be trapped in a car with for the drive. There was also the extra layer of who she thought would be able to survive being trapped in the van with her two uncles.

Before she could even ask the question, the answer came striding through the door. A satisfied smile crossed her face as she pointed to who had just walked through the door. “Fine. I’ll take Angel.”

At the sound of his name, his head whipped to look at the table. “Take Angel where?”

“Airport,” she replied. “Finally getting rid of you for good. One way ticket to—”

“You’re helping her with a pick-up,” Bishop cut his daughter’s comedic routine short.

Angel strolled over to the table and rested his hand on the back of Lara’s chair. He looked back and forth between the two of them and tried to figure out what was going on without having to ask. “Pick-up?”

“My brother’s flying in,” Bishop answered.

Angel nodded in understanding, although he couldn’t hide the look of mild surprise on his face. “Shit. Alright.”

“Day after tomorrow you’re going with Lara to pick them up.”

“Them?” Angel asked.

Lara was practically giddy. “Tío Chepe is coming too.”

Angel’s brows knit in confusion. “Do I know him?”

Bishop shook his head. “You’d know if you knew him.” He paused to sigh before looking back at Angel again. “Keep both of them out of trouble.”

“Your brothers?”

Bishop gestured to Lara. “Her and Chepe. And he’s not my fuckin’ brother.”

The comment got a laugh out of both Lara and Angel, who held his hands up in surrender. “Only one brother. Got it.”

The day of their arrival came far too soon for Bishop’s liking. Before he knew it, he was meeting up with Lara and Angel at the clubhouse early in the morning to give her the van and send them on their way. It was the only time Bishop could remember Angel being early for anything.

“Keep me updated,” Bishop said as Lara swiped the keys away from him.

“Yeah, yeah,” she replied flippantly as she unlocked the doors.

“Wasn’t talking to you,” Bishop said as he turned and looked at Angel. It was a sad state of affairs when he had to trust Angel to be one of the most responsible ones in a group of people, but that’s where they were at. “Got it?”

Angel nodded, knowing that there was only one right answer. “Got it.”

The two of them were a few minutes into their trek when Angel finally ventured to ask, “So what’s the deal with your uncles, then? Them and Bish, I mean.”

Lara glanced over at him for a moment before putting her eyes back on the road. “You’ve met Gilberto before, haven’t you?”

“Not really. Seen him, but Bish usually handles whatever they’ve got going on with him and Galindo. I don’t ask.”

She chuckled. “Smart.”

“What’s Bish’s deal with this Chepe dude?”

Lara laughed. “My dad hates anyone who finds a way to have a good time at all costs.” She paused. “I can’t believe you’ve never met him. Can’t believe it’s been that long.”

“What’s he like?” Angel’s curiosity had been piqued since they previously brought him up, but he didn’t want to ask about him in front of Bishop.

She spared him another brief glance, a mischievous look on her face. “You just have to meet him.”

The response didn’t bring Angel any comfort in the slightest, but he knew better than to try and press her for answers that she had no intention of giving. That was one thing that she and her father had in common. Instead he just settled back into his seat and watched the road, doing his best to not be a backseat driver.

If Chepe and Gilberto hadn’t walked out the door right beside each other and holding a conversation, no one would’ve known that they were traveling together. Gilberto had stepped off the plane in a suit—Lara was fairly certain that the closest she’d ever seen her uncle get to lounge wear was business causal. And even then, that was a rare sight. Chepe on the other hand showed up looking like he was actually on vacation. He had his aviators on as they strolled down the walkway, suitcases in tow, with a casual striped button-down on with the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. The gold necklace he was wearing standing out against the white t-shirt he had on underneath—he’d even traded in his khakis for jeans.

Both of them broke out into grins when they saw Lara waiting beside the van in the pick-up area. She held her arms out for a hug as she approached them both. She stepped in to give Gilberto a hug first, kissing him on the cheek as she did so.

“Mija,” he said with a laugh. “More grown up every time I see you.”

She stepped back, smiling and shaking her head as his hands remained on the outsides of her arms for a moment longer, like he was updating the image of her that was in his head. “Gotta visit more than once or twice a year, Tío.”

Chepe chimed in before Gilberto even got the chance to. “Take that up with your father,” his tone was serious when he said the statement, but it was immediately followed by a wide grin and a laugh.

Lara immediately beamed and stepped over to him, throwing her arms around his neck. “Chepe!” She laughed as he swept her up off her feet in a hug.

“Lalita,” he set her down and pressed a kiss to her forehead, “mi muñeca. It’s been too long.”

She let out a dramatic sigh as she fixed her hair. “I know—I’ll work on getting my dad to lift the embargo.”

Angel stood back, watching the two of them as they laughed together. It was a lot to take in, seeing her like that. It wasn’t as though she turned into a completely different person around her uncles, but he certainly felt like a different side to her—a side that he had never had the opportunity to see before. This certainly wasn’t how she acted with the only other family he knew of hers, Bishop.

Chepe playfully nudged Lara’s shoulder as he looked Angel up and down. “Quién es este mari—”

Lara elbowed him with a chuckle and a shake of her head. Some things weren’t ever going to change. “This is Angel—he’s in the club with my dad.” Turning, she looked at Angel. “Angel, this is my Tío Gilberto,” she nodded towards the man in question before resting her hand on Chepe’s shoulder, “and my Tío Chepe.”

Lara couldn’t have been more casual about the introduction if she had tried, and yet Angel still found himself standing there feeling like sweat was about to start pooling in his palms. Clearing his throat, he quickly and discreetly wiped his hand against his jeans before holding it out for Giberto to shake. “Nice to meet you.” He repeated the process with Chepe, neither man emoting one way or the other how they felt about him. Angel, based off years of experience, took it to be a bad sign even though he had no real evidence of that.

There wasn’t much more to be said as they started putting Chepe and Gilberto’s luggage into the back of the van. None of them started an actual discussion about who was going to be sitting where, but when Chepe went to reach for the front passenger-side door, Angel didn’t speak up to try and stop him. If he was going to be sitting next to someone besides Lara for the whole drive back, he supposed he was fine with it being Gilberto. Angel felt like sitting next to Gilberto meant there was less likelihood of him being pushed out of the van while it was still moving.

The ride back was uneventful despite Angel’s spiraling internal monologue. He listened to Lara chat with both her uncles. Some of it he could only catch bits and pieces of when they were speaking primarily in Spanish. It was evident that she didn’t speak it as much as her uncles, because why would she have to? But she spoke a lot more than Angel probably ever would. It was enough for him to try to have to use context clues for some of the things that were brought up. Whatever it was, it didn’t seem like they were discussing anything too serious.

When they pulled into the lot at the clubhouse, it felt like everything else came to a bit of a standstill. While Gilberto had made a habit over the years of visiting far more frequently than Chepe, it wasn���t as though he spent an awful lot of time at the clubhouse when he did. Most of the members who’d been around for more than a couple years had seen him and knew who he was, but most hadn’t ever really gotten a formal introduction. As far as Bishop was concerned, they didn’t need one. Since Chepe tagged along for the first time in a long time, however, Bishop had the feeling that this stint in the states was going to be just as much social as it was business.

Chepe and Lara were chatting as they got out of the van, not in any great rush to get into the throes of things. Unsure of what else to do, Angel tagged along a couple steps behind Gilberto as he went to greet his brother. Chepe lingered by the back of the van with Lara while she discouraged him from taking their luggage out of the van because she was going to drop them off at whatever hotel they were staying at once they checked in with Bishop.

“I’m sure Tío Gilberto already has the Benz he rented parked in the valet lot there anyway.” She glanced over at him. “Looks like if you wanna go out and have fun you’ll have to either call me or an Uber.”

Chepe laughed and shook his head but didn’t speak up to disagree with her. Regaining his composure just slightly, he gave a small nod in Angel’s direction as he said, “You should be making him drive you around.”

Lara scoffed even though her face warmed at the comment. “Angel? Please. There’s a reason I was behind the wheel going to pick you guys up today.”

“Lalo,” he chided with a shake of his head. “Don’t start treating me like I’m old and senile. Save that for Gilberto.”

She laughed as she tried to divert the conversation for her own sake. “I don’t know—it has been a while since I’ve seen you.”

He was still smiling as he pulled her in, pretending to go for a headlock. “Not that long.” He paused, and when Lara didn’t say anything, he asked, “So he doesn’t know, then?”

Lara followed Chepe’s eyeline and saw that he was looking at her father now. Picking a story and sticking to it, she did her best to sound confident as she said, “There’s nothing for him to know, Tío.”

Chepe hummed, clearly not convinced but deciding that he’d bring it up again at a later date. Maybe he’d bring it up to Angel and see if they both had the same story. He kissed Lara on the side of the head to conclude their conversation before moving on to finally greeting Bishop. He smiled wide, holding his arms out for a hug as he approached him. He called out, “Obispo!” in such a friendly tone that anyone who didn’t know better would’ve thought that they were old friends.

The less than amused look on Bishop’s face was the only thing that gave away the reality of the situation. He didn’t deny Chepe the hug, but he certainly wasn’t as enthusiastic about it. “Chepe,” he said with not nearly as much cheer. “Was starting to think you were gone for good.”

Chepe clapped him on the back once more with another laugh before pulling away. “Life isn’t that easy for you, Obispo. Besides,” he gestured towards Lara, “I know you miss me just as much as my niece does.”

Bishop scoffed. “Just about.”

“Good thing Gilberto and I haven’t bought our return tickets then, hm?” He beamed. “Make up for some lost time.”

Bishop sucked in a deep breath, one that gave a noticeable rise to his chest and shoulders. He managed to fight every impulsive comment that crossed his mind, finally watering them down and settling on, “Can’t fuckin’ wait.”

[garbinge]

Don't Push It

Narcos & SOA Crossover (but mainly just Narcos) Chepe Santacruz x @drabbles-mc's OC Diedra Lowman 30 Day Fic Challenge (25/30)

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Violence, torture, angst, pain, blood, hurt/comfort. A/N: Started writing this for @narcosfandomdiscord's challenge a whole bunch of months ago but never got around to finishing it until now. HUGE hearts and hugs and love for @drabbles-mc for letting me borrow her OC for this! She's created such an amazingly heartbreaking but intriguing story for Diedra and I hope I got a fraction of what you're created for her here! Narcos Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @narcolini @hausofmamadas @kmc1989

It was crazy how history could repeat itself in such small particular moments. As Chepe walked into the basement he saw Diedra in a chair, slouched and sitting across from someone whose face was swollen from punches. Chepe smiled as the scene reminded him of when he first met Diedra. 

The painful sounds of someone being beaten and tortured filled the underground cellar. Diedra’s white shirt was practically dyed red now from the blood of the person in front of her everytime she slugged, gripped, and tortured him. It wasn’t phasing her though, it was something she was used to. She was hired hands, part of something because she had this ability to turn it all off in situations of this nature. It ran in her blood, it was in her genetics. The Lowman family traits were stoic, tortuous, and some might even use the word insane. 

“Who is that?” Chepe’s voice was intrigued as he stepped down into the cellar next to Pacho who was watching the events unfold in front of him. 

“No one you need to be concerned with.” Pacho couldn’t help the smirk on his face as he heard Chepe’s question. Both of them now staring at the woman who was in front of them beating answers out of this man. 

Diedra was no stranger to this life, it felt like her earliest memory was stained with violence and blood. If one was to look back at her life, at her family, at her journey it was pointed in this direction. This is what she was good at, what she got enjoyment out of. She knew it wasn’t normal, but nothing about her life was. 

Chepe was enthralled with her, it was rare to see women in their field of work and when he did, they definitely weren’t beating the shit out of people and from Chepe’s observation, enjoying it. 

Pacho looked over at Chepe, and it took a lot for him not to let out an obvious laugh. He was going to have to pick Chepe’s jaw up off the ground when they were finished here and poke his eyes back in his head. 

“Do me a favor and don’t get drool on the floor.” Pacho knocked Chepe’s shoulder lightly. 

“Do me a favor and tell me who she is.” Chepe was extremely serious as he spoke despite Pacho’s teasing. 

Before either of them could continue the conversation the sound of a yelp they hadn’t heard before alerted them both to look back at the tortuous scene in front of them. Somehow the man who had been tied up had gotten his left hand free and surprised Diedra with a blow to the face. The yelp was not one that she was proud of, it was rare that she’d let someone get the upper hand on her. 

Chepe instinctually took a step forward to take control of the situation when Pacho stopped him by putting his arm in front of him. He wasn’t doing it for Chepe in the way one would think. Pacho knew how the woman worked, if Chepe tried to play the knight in shining armor he’d find himself getting rocked and bound to a chair himself. 

Diedra was quick to recover from the blow and if anything she took the opportunity to have it work in her favor. Within minutes the person was giving up the information she had been digging for over the last hour. 

The woman turned around, feeling no different than before, despite accomplishing her goal. Her face was still stoic and her brows were meeting in the middle of her face. Spitting out the metallic taste in her mouth into the towel that was first draped over her backpack but now in her hands should not have been as attractive to Chepe as it was. This whole situation was. Chepe was crazy and he felt like this woman in front of him was someone who matched his passion equally, if not more.

Diedra was quick to pick up her backpack, the towel still touching up spots of blood on her face as she walked over to the two men near the exit of the cellar. 

“That guy you’re looking for is in Bogata. He lives in the square, plaza de bolivar.” Her eyes were glued to Pacho’s, not even bothering to give a morsel of attention to the other man who had joined him. She could feel his eyes on her, they were practically burning a hole into her face. Any other time, Diedra would have been quick to shut that shit down but she was looking forward to the paycheck from this job and she knew that by punching the guy who seemed to be close with the man who’d be paying her might put a wrench in that. 

“Thank you, I might have a few more jobs for you, if you’re interested.” Pacho was reaching into his back pocket to pull out an envelope. 

“Yea, I’m down.” Diedra was grabbing the envelope and placing it in her back pocket. She didn’t bother to look at it, this wasn’t her first job for Pacho, she had known him to be fair and trustworthy. 

“I’d actually like to bring you onto our team, I think you could offer more than just,” Pacho paused for a minute to look at the man who was groaning as he came to it from being passed out, “persuasion.” 

“I could.” She nodded, adjusting her backpack on her shoulder. 

“Let’s talk more tomorrow.” Pacho nodded at the girl. “Take the night to yourself, clean up, relax. I’ll have someone come by your room and bring you food.” 

Diedra nodded, at the mention of relaxing she felt the exhaustion come over her. The jet lag was catching up to her, she was covered in blood and dirt, and the pain from being punched was starting to throb and give her a headache. She was feeling happy her commute wasn’t far, Pacho had opened his home to her, one of the many unoccupied rooms in the large mansion was now where she had settled in. As she brought the towel back up to her face to spit some leftover blood into it as she made her way towards the cellar entrance. Now, she was passing Chepe, again offering no acknowledgment to his presence until he let out a sentence that boiled her blood. 

“I could help you with that.” He had lifted his hand to point at her soon to be bruised face. The first thought through Diedra’s mind was that the man was lucky that finger wasn’t pointed in her face because she’d rip them off his hand. 

Her eyes rolled as she turned, making eye contact with Pacho who was grinning and shaking his head as he looked down at the floor and then back up at her. All he did was close his eyes, shrug his shoulders, and smirk and that was all Diedra needed as a green light. It wasn’t like she needed permission, if she wanted to put this guy down she would’ve but there was something so pleasing in knowing that she could do that and not only keep future jobs but also probably get a laugh out of the guy paying her. 

“Put that finger any closer to me and I’ll rip it off and shove it down your throat.” Her voice didn’t change at all, there wasn’t any added layer of anger or frustration in her tone. Now, it did help that she tended to normally speak with a ‘don’t fuck with me’ attitude. 

It had been about two years since that instance but Diedra still found herself in the same exact scenario. She’d chalk it up to being a Lowman, to never thinking ahead more than a couple days to make any real life changing decisions, but truthfully, it was more than that. She liked it here. That was a new feeling for the girl. She had felt like an outsider in her own hometown, but then again the MC didn’t leave a lot of room for anyone but themselves in Charming. Happy and her sister did their best, and she loved them for it. But everytime she looked at Kota, how different she was from her, it really hit her how much she didn’t belong here. Kota was happy, 99% of the time. She was a Lowman for sure, didn’t take shit from anyone, scared the fuck out of her boyfriend too, which always made Diedra laugh. But ultimately, she had this spirit about her, and Diedra didn’t have that. The eldest sister knew why, the trauma she had suffered that her younger sister didn’t likely stole the spirit from her and left her with whatever this was. For a while she thought maybe it’d come back, that Charming would open up a spot for her, or at least her father would. Maybe she could help out around the club–that was wishful thinking. Women didn’t become contract killers for the MC, they had specific roles for women and she definitely didn’t fit in any of those. 

That’s why she landed here, working for a drug cartel and it was the most life made sense for her. 

She probably shouldn’t have let the reminder wander for those couple seconds because it earned her a knee to the face. This time, unlike two years ago, she didn’t yelp, a grunt did escape from her mouth but she caught the knee of the man quickly and toppled him over, bringing her knife swiftly into the muscle above joint and twisted it and asked her question one more time. 

“Now you pissed me off,” the blood was dripping from her nose, there were a couple cuts across her face likely from the chains that were wrapped around his legs, “answer me right now, or I’ll kill you over and over again.” 

“That’s not even possible.” The man still had a little fight in him. 

She twisted the knife more and smiled, blood all across her pristine white teeth. “You don’t even want to know what I can make possible.” Her words continued as she explained what she was going to do to the man, how she’d bring him to look the reaper in the eye, and bring him back like an angel, just to push him right back to the edge of death. 

The man gave up his crew in seconds. Diedra left him with her own knee to his face before she lifted her shirt up to her nose that was likely broken. 

She approached Chepe, her bag hanging from her shoulder as her eyes looked at his. 

“I got the info.” She said pinching her nose now hoping that’d stop the bleeding. 

Chepe laughed at what she said, “You know I don’t care about the info.” 

“But your business partner does.” With a swift motion she was twisting her nose so it was back in it’s normal positioning and the bleeding quickly stopped but the pain was throbbing. “Fuck.”

Chepe was moving in closer, quick to place a kiss on Diedra’s forehead and throw his hand over her shoulder. “C’mon. Let’s go home.” 

She nodded, allowing the man that she threatened in this very spot two years ago to touch her, in probably one of the more PG ways over the last year. While didn’t exactly melt into his embrace, she didn’t push it away, and she was truthfully looking forward to collapsing in bed with him when they got back to their house. She nodded, still messing around with her broken face as they began to step out. 

“I could help with that.” He brought his hand up and pointed to her face and it earned him a menacing look from Diedra. 

“Don’t push it.” 

________

Diedra felt her whole body ache as she walked up the stairs of her home. She didn’t realize until this moment that she was pretty banged up and bruised all over, beating someone up tended to have that effect. She jumped into the shower, the warm water was a mix of calming while also painful, a true representation of herself. The dirt and blood washed down the drain but the bruises were hard to erase as easily. The bruises were the reminders, they sat next to her scars, because the long term reminders weren’t enough, she needed short term ones too. 

With a new fresh tank top on and just her underwear, she stood back in the bathroom, staring at herself in the mirror. The first aid kit was scattered across the vanity, her eye scanning over the items she needed, butterfly bandages, instant ice packs that all you did was squeeze and shake for them to go cold, ointment, instant sterilizing liquid. Diedra managed to get a stiff bandage across her nose to help keep it in the same place. She had an ice pack balanced on her shoulder, easing the ache of constantly swinging and punching the last 6 hours of the day. As the more time passed, the more the ache spread and it became harder to lift her arms above her head. 

The struggle was beginning to frustrate her as she tried to clean the cuts on her forehead and cheek but struggled to keep her arm raised for more than a couple seconds. She banged her hand against the vanity in annoyance, the entire medical kit shaking as well, some of the bandages falling into the sink. Her eyes closed in defeat, and also as the pain from the hit radiated in her body like a pinball. 

A sudden knock interrupted her moment and she was snapping her neck forward to see Chepe at the door. He didn’t say anything, just casually walked in and picked up the bandages from the sink and tossed them back into the red plastic box. 

“Wanted to let you know I made you something to eat.” He spoke as he dropped the other items back in as well. 

“Not in the mood for a shitty sandwich.” Her words were pointed because it was how she felt, projection at it’s finest. 

Chepe just smiled, still packing up the box. “I made chicharron con tostones, picked up alfajores too.” 

His lack of eye contact showed he wasn’t hurt by Diedra’s bark, he knew it well, they had been living together now for just under a year. When he mentioned the dessert cookie, her eyes widened, shocked by the fact he cooked but also that he picked up one of her favorites. Chepe actually credited alfajores for the reason he could call her his girlfriend. 

He offered her one when they were out by the pool one day at Pacho’s place, Diedra had been off in the deep end, away from everyone, sitting comfortably with her feet dangling in the crystal clear water. She had her sunglasses on so no one could see where her gaze was landing, but it was obvious it was locked in on Chepe as he slowly approached her with a plastic bag. 

“Here.” He spoke, asking the girl to take from the bag. 

“Todo bien.” Suddenly, her gaze moved from the man and back to the view she was staring at trying to ignore him. 

Chepe couldn’t help but smile at the girl, he left the bag next to her, casually tossing it so it landed close enough for her to grab but far enough none of the powdered sugar would spread on her. 

30 minutes later, the empty bag was dropped on Chepe’s tanning chair, and he was looking up at her as his own sunglasses fell down the bridge of his nose. 

“What are these.” Diedra pointed at the empty bag. Despite it being a question, the way she spoke demanded the answer. 

“He took his sunglasses off, wanting to take in this moment in it’s entirety. “Agree to go out with me and I’ll tell you.” 

By the look on the girl’s face he almost considered this an utter fail. That was Chepe’s first lesson on Diedra Lowman. She couldn’t be bribed. 

“Alright,” he raised his hands, “how about, I just drive you to where I buy them. We can go weekly, stock up your supply.” His eyes squinted now, a combination of the sun and him trying to gauge her response. 

Now that got her thinking. She’d be game for that. 

“Deal.” 

And the rest was history, those weekly trips brought them here, in whatever kind of relationship this was, it wasn’t like either of them were the type to define it. 

“Do you mind–”

She was cut off by him, “I already brought it up here, it’s on a table next to the bed.” 

Her body collapsed a little at that information, grateful she didn’t have to manage the stairs again. 

“Will you let me help you now?” Chepe was about to close the kit but this time he looked up after he spoke the words, directly at the cuts on her face. 

It took everything in Diedra to agree, and she couldn’t even say the words, she just gave a kurt nod and stood still so he could help. 

Chepe also knew better than to boast, he similarly gave a nod and shuffled through the kit to pull out what he needed before quickly moving to touch the girl’s face. Her winces were miniscule, the real pain being the aches over the cuts. She’d always take a slice over a bruise. The sting felt more thrilling than the pulsating of a blow. 

“They shouldn’t scar.” Chepe spoke up in a whisper. 

“Wouldn’t care if they did.” It was spoken as she exhaled. 

Chepe laughed. “You say that because you know you’ll still be as beautiful as ever.” 

That made Diedra smile, it took her a while to warm up to the compliments Chepe would feed her but eventually they made her smile. 

“Why don’t you come to New York with me for a couple weeks. I think you could use the break.” He was so dangerously close to her, but it felt normal, it felt comforting. His hands were lightly on her skin, bringing one side of the cut closer to the other as the butterfly bandage pressed each side together. 

“Pacho needs me for something in a couple days in Medellin.” The excuse was spoken so quickly it was like she had it prepped and loaded. 

“You know if you asked he’d say yes in a heartbeat, and if he didn’t he can’t say no to me.” 

“Because who could say no to that charming, smug face.” It was as close as a compliment that she’d say out loud, but she showed her appreciation for him in other ways, just as he did for her. 

“Just think about it.” He moved his hand to her chin and tilted her head up so she was forced to look into his eyes. Chepe wasn’t asking for confirmation, he did it so he could place an intimate kiss on her lips, one that said everything for him. 

As he pulled away his eyes fell on a cut that was on her neck. “Let me just clean this one real quick.” He was bringing the qtip up in a matter of seconds so he could wipe any stuck dirt and dried blood from it, and that’s when his eyes caught the scar not too far off. 

Diedra had a lot of scars along her body, some he was aware of, and many others he could only guess. This being one of the latter. 

“Don’t think you ever told me about this one.” He didn’t dare to touch it, with where he was looking she’d pick up on what he was talking about. 

“Don’t think I ever will.” Her eyes were on the mirror, staring at the scar in question, but what she was seeing was a flash of a memory she really tried to bury, her father coming to her rescue in a little gas station bathroom, the blood, the words she could barely get out as she explained everything to Happy.  

“Whenever you’re ready, you just give me a name, a description, and I’ll make what you did to that man earlier today look like nothing.” His eyes were on Diedra through the mirror, his arms wrapping around her body, lightly so as to not make her ache in anymore pain. 

“Easy killer.” She turned around now, the ice pack beginning to fall down her shoulder until Chepe caught it and pressed it a little harder against her skin, sending shivers down her body that didn’t make her flinch in the slightest. “Let me eat dinner first and then we can talk about wiping out all the people who’ve ever wronged me.” 

She was squeezing out of his grip and making her way to the bedroom so ready to eat the food he had prepared. 

“And then maybe we can talk about New York?” He called out down the hall, still in the bathroom so he could clean up the rest of the mess before joining her. 

“Don’t push it.”

[artemiseamoon]

Preview: One day at a time

Read on A03

Words: 1,216

Summary: Merelis deals with the aftermath of escaping death.

Warnings: a shootout, death of a friend, survivors' guilt

October 17 — Day of Rare Treasures @narcosfandomdiscord | prompt list | Create a fanwork about a character that only shows up in one (1) season of the show. the rarer the better honestly

An: I don’t think they gave her a name, so I did. She was the woman doing Chepe’s perm in Narcos

The cup of coffee went cold in Merelis' hands as she watched the fuzzy ball go back and forth, swinging like a pendulum in the wind. Every so often, Poppy, her cat, bats the ball with one paw before hitting it again.

If only human life could be that simple. Wake up, eat, play with the ball. Not a fucking care in the world.

Merelis pulled her eyes away from the cat, and despite telling herself not too, her mind went back to that night.

She wasn’t an idiot. She knew who owned the hair salon and what they ran out the back. She knew what world she was stepping into by working there. Merelis took the job anyway, and she liked it, until that night.

There was nothing menacing about him at first, and she remembers how funny his accent was. Before her alarms went off, Merelis didn’t give the third guy by the door much thought. But when everything lined up, and that rock in her gut formed, it made perfect sense.

- Flashback -

A new client sat in her chair, a man she had never seen before who walked in with two others. One man opted for a haircut, the other for nothing at all, and just read a paper by the door. Men and women came in here all the time, and it wasn’t the first time someone waited upfront for someone else.

The stranger in her seat didn’t say much, not until she engaged him in conversation with some basic questions. It was then she took more notice of his accent, and while her curiosity peaked, so did a slight rush of uncertainty about this whole situation.

Merelis tried to focus on the task at hand, but it was then her gut was telling her to run. She kept applying the relaxer to the man's hair anyway, when her eyes drifted over to the one by the door,

“The guy at the door, he's Colombian too?”

Read more on A03

My masterlist for this challenge

Excuse my shitty gif , I needed one and I am no gif maker

No tags

@artemiseamoon-updates

[cositapreciosa]

💕 self-love time! talk about which ones of YOUR creations (edits, artworks, fanfics) you like the most then send to other creators to do the same 💕

For some reason, I absolutely adore my Chepe x reader fic that you can read here. My favorite characters to write are those that can hold their own, and reader is a certified hot badass babe in this one.

I'm not sure why it's one of my favorites, but the tension, the slow pace and just Chepe being so delicious in this one makes it definitely in my top favorite 5 fics of mine.

<3

[furious-rogue-stuff]

Heat Chapter 37: Everything

I’m back-back-back, back again~! 🥴 Pedro’s hosting SNL, dominating media, claiming 2023 as his year, and I’m over here ready for some more Heat, baby 😁

Pairing: Javier Peña x OFC | Javi x Querida

Disclaimer: Written in 2nd person narrative, you can safely assume our heroine and love/lust interest is a Latina, written by a Latina. Here's my philosophy on my writing, for further context.

Rating: Mature/Explicit 🔞

Word Count: 19,500+

Summary: You’ve been each other's safe harbor, so when the spectacular circumstances that lead to the end of the Cali cartel's influence oust everything you have Javi had been looking forward to, can your gravitation survive the fallout of events?

Warnings: Javier Peña being the our flawed AF king. Graphic descriptions of sex, including explicit depictions of unprotected sex. Mentions of hurt/comfort, resentments, toxic coping mechanisms, heartbreak and hidden motives. Descriptions of pining, light dom/sub play, cum play, size kink, praise kink, and dirty talk. Allusions to triggering events, vindictive behavior, foreboding threats, and emotional trauma. Some Protective!Javi, Dom! Javi, Sub!Reader, Wrathful!Javi. In the vein of Narcos being a bilingual show, and Javier Peña being fluent, I felt it was apropos to include Spanglish and Spanish throughout.

Heat Masterlist

Previous chapter - Chapter 36: Pésame

Chapter 37: Everything

After the capture of Miguel Rodríguez, things seemingly fall into place, as if they'd always been planned that way.

You go into work the next day and hear about how Chepe Santacruz surrendered to the authorities and was taken into custody to La Picota, and by the following afternoon, after a purported massacre at a Norte del Valle ranch, Pacho Herrera is arrested at a church without incident.

All four Cali godfathers were in prison. By all appearances, the Cali cartel had been subdued and their operation had been halted.

Javier doesn't tell you anything to make you think otherwise.

Instead, he spends these days seemingly finalizing work on the case, but in reality, he and his agents are gearing up resources for the tracking and capture of a missing asset:

Guillermo Pallomari. The Cali cartel accountant. The only person left alive – and on the lam, who could decode the ledger and unravel Cali's web of influence – and hopefully keep all four godfathers locked up for real.

You know about Javier's plan to locate and secure the man into DEA custody, but you don't know why he seems so intent to do so without the assistance of CNP, nor why he's so sure he has to get Pallomari to ensure the government doesn't go through with the surrender deal after all. At one point, you'd assumed he would eventually tell you everything that transpired that day – the sequence of events that had left him feeling so demoralized after what should've been a celebrated success. But then days go by and he doesn't detail a thing.

Really, there's no true opportunity for you both to sit with everything and discuss it. Not with how busy you both are. Passing like two ships in the night. Only when you're in each other's arms are you figuratively at port, and even then, you relish the time making love and wanting to get lost in each other. During the mornings, you'd give each other brief updates on where you both were at work. Javi used the time to check in on you about things back in Medellín while you both got ready for the day. He'd assure you things were going fine on his end, and you wouldn't push him.

It was your chance to share a quick, unguarded moment – not to do a deep dive.

Javi wasn't really lamenting that. Not when he wanted to bury his feelings and tend to yours as best as he could.

It'd been easy for Javi to bury the details of what happened the day they'd caught Miguel Rodríguez, and while he sensed you hoped he would eventually tell you, he had chosen to obfuscate. To let you believe he'd moved on from it and discussing it now would only drudge the self-loathing and acrimony back up.

His ability to keep that to himself was made all the much easier by the fact you were trying to cage your own feelings up as well. Things were still raw for you, but you'd had to deal with your grief the best way you knew how – by bottling it up, and compartmentalizing it into the deepest, most secluded shelf within yourself. It was a necessity for you to do so.

Combined with the swiftly approaching deadline of Ellis leaving with Anita and her family to Puerto Rico, all of the upheaval of preparing for the departure at work, fiscal bureaucratic responsibilities needing your attention, and the obligations you have to deal with regarding your grandmother's estate, you simply have no room to let the sorrow take hold of you for long. Even when the realtor calls to let you know the apartment you'd loved was no longer available, you hadn't let the pang of sadness stew in you for more than a few seconds before you thanked her for the update and said you'd be in contact once you were ready to look at more places.

You'd mentioned it to him, but Javier had nodded and changed subjects. Choosing to treat everything not part of 'the now' as something neither of you should dwell on.

He chooses to act like he hadn't crumbled before you and needed your grace to stitch him back together, and when he quickly redirects away from himself and his work to ask about you and yours? Or when he scoffs at your mentioning of his "takedown of Cali" being the talk of the embassy, you don't take umbrage, especially with the latter. You know him well, and figure he's deflecting because boastful accolades make him cringe, and he'd rather take the shine off of himself and focus on your success.

After all, you have your own milestones to celebrate these days.

The pilot program has been a success, and with the close of this first round, you are touted by the ambassador for achieving such a formidable goal – and under budget. It's such a lauded achievement, that your department gets the proposed funding to add headcount and expand operations for the next fiscal year. And when you walk into the conference room for the big bi-annual interagency head of department meeting this very morning, you are surprised by the series of claps you receive when you come through the door.

Everyone congratulates you, shakes your hand, and share varying well-wishes for more to come for your department. The Mil Group and Centra Spike fellas especially shower you with cheers, and you are smiling irreverently as they propose a big happy hour get-together to celebrate for real when Javier comes into the room – in his dark gray suit and with the blue and gold-striped tie you'd steamed the wrinkles out of for him this morning – hair already tousled from him running his fingers through it in pent-up stress.

It's times like this you wish you could go to him and kiss the frown off his handsome face. But, instead, you all sit once the ambassador enters.

You can't help notice how Javi goes out of his way to sit closest to the door, and avoids Crosby's gaze. He swivels his nonchalantly about the table before connecting with yours briefly to then force himself to look down at his watch busily.

He's so tense. You internally frown, wondering if something big is about to go down at this meeting, which would explain why he looks like he'd rather be anywhere else—

The ambassador calls your name, and when you snap your attention to the head of the long, oval conference table, he smiles. "—Fantastic work, as always. State Department is so pleased, they're already trying to poach you from here! I hope if anyone over there tries to snake their way to you with a direct offer, you'll kindly tell them to buzz off," he jovially remarks and jokes, earning a few wry chuckles from around the table. He then directs his gaze over at Javier as he drawls, "And, as you all know, congrats are in order for Agent Peña and his team. Without his tenacity in capturing the Rodríguez brothers, the rest of the Cali leadership wouldn't have folded up shop. Great work."

Everyone claps to that, including you, and Javi tries his best not to squirm under the terse praise, forcing a half smile to the people sitting closest to him that pat him on the shoulders. You know he hates this, but there's something in his dark coffee-brewed eyes that is almost pained by the acknowledgement. But as quick as it was given, so was the attention diverted away to other bureaucratical topics.

By the end of the meeting, you intend to weave over to him and suggest having a one-on-one in your office, but the ambassador comes over and thwarts you. Once he's finished regaling you with some of the positive comments he'd received from heads in DOS, you look back and see Javier is long gone from the room.

This morning, he'd mentioned spending the day meeting with his guys in order to go over tactics for the Pallomari case, so you decide to risk the impropriety of going up to see him without an appointment as an excuse. Instead, you enter the DEA department with a to-go tray carrier with four coffees and a couple of creamers, stirrers and packets of sugar nestled in the center. However, when you find the secluded meeting room they tend to use for these hush-hush sessions, only Stoddard, Feistl and Van Ness are in it.

"Hey, fellas! I come bearing caffeinated bliss," you chime congenially as you enter, smiling brightly when they look up from the mess of papers and files strewn over the table and gawk at the coffee cups as you set them down on an uncluttered corner. "Where's your fearless leader?" you jibe as you hand Stoddard his cup.

"He stepped out for a quick call," Stoddard answers and eagerly preps his coffee with the cream and sugar he likes. He sips from his cup and practically swoons before he tells the other agents, "You guys, if you haven't had the director's coffee, you've been missing out."

The two junior agents are dressed casually, wearing jeans, sneakers, and well-worn t-shirts under very busy-looking patterned button down short-sleeved shirts. You don't see how Feistl ogles your hourglass shape as you're carefully removing the cups from the carrier to hand one to his partner before handing the other to him.

"It's not my coffee, but yes – it's excellent, and I wanted to give you my congrats on your successes, and show my appreciation by bringing you guys a little pick-me-up," you sardonically lilt as you hold out the tray with the creamers and sugars after you've removed the remaining cup meant for Javi.

"Thanks!" Chris gives you his most winning smile as he plucks a creamer and two sugar packets, along with a wooden stirrer, from the tray. His features are covered in dark stubble, and the Hard Rock Café t-shirt he has on under his garish palm-leaf print button down looks rumpled, like it'd been on the floor rather than in a drawer before he'd pulled it on that morning.

Dan politely takes the tray from you so you can hold the remaining cup in both hands less awkwardly, nodding his thanks and doing everything to not look at your cleavage thanks to his tall stature that gave him a perfect view down your sage-colored crepe V-neck blouse, even from his vantage point on the opposite side of the table. And when he pivots to place the tray down on a storage cabinet, his geometric-print button down shifts to reveal more of his shirt, and you notice the logo on it.

"Oh! Is that the Red Hot Chili Peppers?" you inquire, smiling wryly when he balks before looking down at his Blood Sugar Sex Magik shirt like he's just realized what he had on.

"You know 'em?" the tall man inquires with a charmed little smirk pulling at his pouty-pink lips, eyeing you now as if impressed.

"I mean, don't let the stuffy outfit fool you, agent. I have many a band shirt in my collection as well," you jibe and wink at him. "I saw them live once. Right before I came down here. I've been meaning to get that album," is your affable remark as you put a hand on your hip and continue in light conversation – expanding on the concerts and music festivals you've both been to, not noticing the amused glower Chris is shooting his partner at being able to chat you up like he's secretly wanted to for a while.

You do notice how Stoddard glances at the door behind you, and before you can turn, Javi is drawling, "Are you trying to poach my agents into the next round of your pilot, director?"

Raising your brows innocently, you turn and scoff, "Poach them? Never. No, in good time, you'll all be unable to avoid my department, and will fall in line just like everyone else."

Stoddard chortles into his coffee cup while Chris grins behind his hand and Dan flattens out his lips comically at your audaciousness.

Javier just grunts and gives you a challenging look, so you hold out the coffee cup and smile angelically as you chime, "I bring coffee as a show of good will. I'm gonna need it to convince you to let us on-board the rest of your staff before the year ends."

He accepts the cup and has to fight the impulse to pull you close so he can plant a kiss on your goading, rouged lips. Instead, he nods his thanks before inquiring, "Actually, got a minute? I wanted to go over something mentioned during the meeting earlier."

"Of course," you remark before turning and giving each of the men a smile goodbye. "Good luck, boys!"

While the three men remain in the conference room and exchange varying degrees of amusement – including Chris elbowing Dan and bouncing his brows crassly at him while Stoddard shuts the conference door, Javier gestures for you to walk ahead of him in the hall as he directs you to a different room just off from his office. It's a small room with horizontal blinds giving privacy in a department with a lot of vestibule-styled conference spaces. It looks like it's been outfitted to be a make-shift audio equipment surveillance room, so the lights were low-lit when he flicked them on, and there were two swivel chairs tucked into place by the retrofitted work station.

As soon as he shuts the door, Javi plops the coffee cup down on the counter and pulls you into his arms before kissing you with all the bottled-up passion he'd been stowing since seeing you earlier.

Gasping a giggle, you pull back to saucily whisper, "Javier! This is much too risky—"

"I don't give a shit," he retorts gruffly and picks you up so he can whisk you to sit on the countertop, shoving a swivel chair out of the way so he can stand between your parted thighs. You swoon, feeling so aroused and titillated by his possessiveness, as well as his masculine scent and the heat of his body pressing up against you. "Been dying to kiss you," Javi husks as he paws his touch from your waist up to cup your face before burying his hands in your hair and tilting your features up so he can press salacious kisses over your cheeks, jaw, and neck while you pull him into you and stifle a breathy sound of delight. "Looking so fucking sexy, showing all of us up earlier," he husks after teasingly flicking his tongue along your bottom lip after you exhale needily. "Making my guys lust after you—"

You hiccup a scoffed sound before pulling back and giving him a sassy smile. "Oh my god, you're so ridiculous," you scathe sardonically and affectionately wipe your lipstick prints from his mouth. "Tan celoso—"

"Goddamn right, I am," Javi grouses in that gravelly pitch that makes you ache between your thighs for him. "You don't see the way they look at you," he murmurs heatedly, pursing his lips when you tenderly caress the back of his neck and hum amusedly. "I'm serious—"

"I don't care how they look at me. I only belong to you, querido," is your silky murmur, eyes sultry as you teasingly nuzzle his cheek. "Now, I don't want to keep you. I just came up to see why you were so grumpy," is your soft musing as he rests his forehead to yours and encircles your waist. "I know all the attention annoys you."

"…Just could do without the bullshit, is all," he rumbles in an even tone before shaking his terse mood off. "Thanks for the coffee and smooches, preciosa," is his purr now before he presses a doting kiss to the top of your hairline.

"Well, I didn't intend to smooch you, chulito," is your snicker as he leans back and grunts smugly at you. He has a blush-toned apricot lipstick smear on his chin, so you beckon him closer as you slink off of the countertop and smoothen out your pencil skirt. "Come here, and let me get you sorted so it doesn't look like I had my way with you in here," you drawl cheekily.

Javi chuckles and lets you swipe your thumb to remove the smear before you smoothen out his collar and straighten his tie. "You say that like it's a bad thing," he laconically quips, and you snicker irreverently before leaning up to nose his lapel, and end up huffing with a grunt. "What?" he asks when you lean back and pout.

"You got my perfume on you!" you admonish in a hushed tone and idly make sure you don't have lipstick smudged outside the line of your lower lip before scrunching your nose at him blowing a raspberry at your worrying as he brushes his fingers to comb your hair back into place behind your ears.

"I don't plan on letting anyone get close enough to sniff me, mandona," he jibes as he leans against the counter and picks up the coffee cup to take a long pull.

"I saw that room, chavón," you coolly drawl, adding with musing humor, "Not gonna be able to help smell each other once the coffee runs out."

He hums at that and showily pats his free hand down the side of his blazer to make sure he has his cigarette pack. "I'll have a smoke to camouflage your sexy scent," he rumbles in a canela-brined timbre before towing you with a hand at your hip to lean into him when you purse your lips at his plan. "I can't wait until everyone knows and we don't have to sneak around anymore," is his sincere mumble, leaning close so he can nose into the hairline at your temple.

"So do I," you murmur and lean back, eyes twinkling as you sigh, "Not much longer now."

Javier grunts, and leans his forehead into yours. "I might be late tonight, so don't wait up," he tells you in a smooth baritone.

You nod, wanting to kiss him so bad, but the risk of getting anymore telltale proof of your canoodling on him keeps your desire in check.

He lets you slip from his embrace, but gently caresses his touch to your cheek. Quickly, you turn so you can kiss the inside of his palm and give him a mischievous smile as you bat your lashes, hands teasingly skimming down to lightly graze your touch over his tensing abs as you purr, "Alright, Don Celos. Try and keep that in check so your guys don't get wise to you."

The searing look he gives you is too gratifying. "I'm outta here before I punish you for being such a sexy little atrevida," is his gruff drawl before picking up his coffee cup and exiting first to make sure no one notices you both breeze out and go your separate ways.

While you stride out and turn down the hall to make your way out of his department, Javier is already lighting up a cigarette and taking his time to make his way back to the small conference room.

By the time he's saturated enough of his person with the clinging smoky scent and is settling in for a long day of planning with his agents, you're riding down in the elevator, head full of daydreaming thoughts involving life after this last supposed hurdle.

Of course, that is quickly swept aside when your cell phone rings once you're about to settle in at your desk. The estate attorney reels you down into a heavy sadness as he updates you on the latest, and confirms with you the need to meet in person to sign documents and finalize things. With an upcoming bank holiday and other bureaucratical legalese you need to deal with, he suggests you taking a trip to Medellín and getting your family together in order to complete required steps for passing the property over to them. He offers to make himself available the next few days, so that spurs you into calling your aunt with the news, and after some more tender discussion about the house, you end up agreeing that flying down the following day and having the weekend to get these things done would be best.

Ellis is more than happy to cover things while you're away, so you book a flight and make it all the way home to Javier's at the end of the day before realizing he might take umbrage to you going out of town on such short notice. It nags you as you get out of your work outfit and put on a slinky purple housedress. And when you busy yourself with washing the dishes you've both let accumulate in the sink, it keeps needling you. It doesn't let up, even as you tend to the laundry that's piled up. The stress it conjures up has you ironing his dress shirts on autopilot while you ruminate.

You're so preoccupied with your thoughts about everything that when you're hanging up all the freshly ironed shirts into his closet, you absently bump your hand against a box tucked onto the top shelf, causing it to tumble down.

Managing to catch it with minimal fumbling, you scoff at yourself and are about to pop it back onto the shelf, but the wobbling weight of it and the rattling of the contents within grab your curiosity.

You've never really snooped through Javier's things. Well, there was that time you'd had to search for a hamper, and then hunted for those raunchy pantaleta keepsakes he'd squirreled away. But it wouldn't be too terrible to take a peek inside the box, right?

Pulling the lid of the shoebox open, you look in and find a few folded up visa documents, a laminated prayer card of the Virgin Mary, a glass paperweight with a painted-on relief of La Virgen Santa, a red-beaded rosary, a postcard-sized envelope, and three photographs. With a fawning sigh, you wander to the bed and sit, place the box onto the surface and carefully retrieve the photos so you can peer at them more closely.

Two of them are already familiar. Your smiling expression as you posed for the picture Javi took of you in Cartagena is mirrored on your face now as you look from it to the photo of you both lying side by side on the bed. That weekend floods back to you in warm memories that stir a tingle into your heart, making it skip a beat. But it's the third photo that has you fawning now.

Javi is smiling brightly in it while leaning against a green wooden barn fence. He's standing next to an older man who's wearing a white cowboy hat, standing as tall as Javi, but with a greying moustache. His features are distinguished, but exuding a warm easygoingness to him that you've seen the resemblance of in Javi's expression countless times. They're both wearing light coats and standing in what's obviously a horse pasture on the Peña ranch during a cooler season, considering the overcast sky in the background and the brown horse idling behind another barn fence within its paddock in the back.

"You wanna come to Laredo and meet my Pops sometime?"

Your heart flutters at the recall, and you smile fondly at the photo. The envelope gets your attention next after you return the pictures to the box. Retrieving it, you note the neat handwriting scribbled in bold penmanship on the front, with several stamps denoting it's come from stateside. You can't help smile that it's postmarked from Laredo, Texas, and after cataloguing the address and the name Jesus Peña, you return the envelope to the box and fawningly sigh.

Hours later, Javier drives down into the garage and parks in his spot, feeling dead tired. He lumbers out and makes his way up to his apartment, annoyed but rescind to the next phase of things he has to undertake the following day.

He's not looking forward to telling you about his plans to go to Cali.

No, he is begrudging the fact that all the planning of the day had boiled down to one conclusion: They needed Jorge Salcedo to help them locate the rogue Cali accountant. Feistl and Van Ness were reluctant to admit it, and Javi recognized their protectiveness as being the main factor for resisting recruiting the man into their last-ditch effort to keeping the Cali godfathers locked up permanently. It made sense, especially after the man and his family almost met their demise. They felt personally responsible for putting them in harm's way, so Javi had agreed to be the one to go personally to Salcedo in the morning to ask for his cooperation.

As he lopes down the hall from the elevator towards his door, Javier worries that he'll have to finally tell you what happened, in order to justify his somewhat covert operation in Cali. When he unlocks the door and enters the apartment, he finds the space dark, save for the ambient glow of the television. Once he locks up and sets his things aside on the credenza, he lets his eyes adjust to the dimness, and makes out your sleeping form, curled up on the couch. He approaches quietly so as not to startle you awake.

It looks like you'd put your head down on the armrest and simply dozed off unintentionally. Telling by the glass of water and the plate with half of a sandwich sat on the coffee table, he thinks it's safe to say that you'd decided to wait up for him after all.

"Cariño," he murmurs softly as he sits on the edge of the cushion and gently tucks wayward strands of hair behind your ear before brushing his fingertips along your jaw. You stir and hum as you unfurl from under the throw and adjust to blink up at him. "Sorry to wake you," is his rumble as he leans over to kiss your forehead. "I told you not to wait up—"

"I know," you sigh after you yawn and sit up, scooching close to him so you can curl into his side as he loops his arm around your waist. "How'd the rest of the brainstorm session go?"

"Not ideal…we have a plan, but we'll need to get Salcedo to help us. I'm going over to the hotel he and his family are being guarded at in the morning to get him on board," Javier tells you soberly, steeling himself when you pivot to look up at him worriedly. "We're going to Cali as soon as I get him to agree."

"Oh," you retort softly before pensively looking away and resting your head against his shoulder, trying not to get lost in the smoky scent clinging to his collar. "Ok…well, I guess we'll both have our hands full the next few days," is your musing remark. Javi grunts curiously, so you sigh and resist the impulse to cuddle into him protectively to instead sit up and look into his dark eyes as the glowing cast from the TV illuminates his handsome face. "The estate attorney? He called with an update; wants to take advantage before the bank holiday to finalize things, so I'm flying out to Medellín early in the morning," you pause when Javi's features tense up. "I'm sorry, I know it's short notice—"

"No, it's alright. I just wish I could go with you," Javi retorts as he rubs his palm along his cheek before pinching the bridge of his nose with a tired exhale. "I'll drive you to the airport—"

"Oh, you don't have to," you assure, but Javier shakes his head and scoops you up in both arms so he can pull you onto his lap and embrace you with a contrarian grunt.

"I'm taking you. Do you have someone picking you up once you land?" he asks and holds you close as you loop your arms around his shoulders so you can card your fingers into the back of his hair while he nuzzles your jaw.

"Since everyone will still be at work when I get there, I was going to just take a taxi—" you begin to reply.

"Not a chance," Javi mutters with finality and leans back so he can eye you, the authority of his glare so fierce that you feel a shiver skitter down into your tummy. "I'll arrange for someone to pick you up and drive you to where you have to go—" he starts to state firmly until you pout at him, so he assertively insists, "After what happened last time? Either you have an armed escort I trust, or you're gonna cancel and wait until I can travel with you. There's no way you're going without me ensuring your safety, querida."

You feel heat simmer in your chest before tickling a yearning burn down into your core, making you shiver slightly as you nod obediently and bite your bottom lip.

It shouldn't turn him on to see your breath hitch and features flush from how his intense, albeit provoking gaze gets you before he drawls almost goadingly, "Really? Not gonna argue with me?"

"Well, if you're going to be a jodón about it," you scoff and daringly nudge him as you shift to straddle his lap. He chuckles, eyes crinkling fondly at you as you loosen the knot of his tie with a sassy flare, undoing it while he caresses his hands to the small of your back. But then your gaze becomes sheepish, and you divert it to where you're working the buttons of his collar open. His hands cup the small of your back, and he thinks about how insufferable it'll be – being separated from you, when you lean close until your lips graze his, and whisper, "I wish you could come with me, too…"

He encircles your waist and kisses you, full lips capturing yours tenderly before pressing his forehead to yours. "I know, corazón," he sighs and just holds you, nosing into your hair and getting soothed by your soft perfume.

You hug him, nuzzling his neck, breathing his skin; melt into him when he starts caressing his touch along your sides. He kisses your shoulder where the housedress has slipped down to expose the round of it, and you tingle from the heat that zings down into your core.

The glow of the TV pulls the contouring shadows in around your face when you lean back to sultrily gaze at him before brushing your lips sensuously along his cheek. "I have a surprise for you," you purr and kiss the corner of his mouth, smiling when he shakes the lustful daze off in order to give you his undivided attention. "Can you guess what it is?" is your teasing lilt.

His brows arch as he leans back and stares at you before glancing around at the dark apartment. "Uh…did you clean?"

"Yes, but that's not the surprise," you chuckle and lean back to balance your seated position onto his thighs.

He grunts and eyes you curiously, until the ambient glow from the television catches on your silhouette, backlighting you. That's when he notices it, and his eyes flare up to yours.

"…Fuck me, querida. Are you bare under this little dress?" Javi husks, voracious gaze flicking back down your body to stare at the revealed swell of your breasts under the cotton fabric to see the unmistakable press of your hard nipples against it. And when his hungry stare ventures down to the hem, he realizes you've sat in a way to avoid pressing your crotch over him. His eyes flick back up to you and they're dark with lust, features carving into that smoldering look that makes want pulse into your center. "Show me," he orders in a low rumble that tickles excitement up your spine.

You nip at your bottom lip as you pull the hem of your slinky house dress up your thighs to reveal that indeed, you are completely nude underneath, and the lowlight provided by the TV illuminates the slick heat honeying your cunt.

He's enthralled by how wet and flushed you are for him already, admiring the soft curls on your mound and how inviting your glorious pussy looks, when you chime, "To your liking, mi patrón?"

Javier's eyes snap up to bore incandescently into yours as he sweeps you up against him and effortlessly stands, large hands cupping your ass and forcing you to squeal and loop your limbs around him as he rushes to take you to bed.

"After this morning?! Teasing me the way you did? And you still have the audacity to be a naughty little thing – showing me how wet with need your pussy is – asking if I like it?!" Javi is growling freshly as he bounds across the space before tossing you onto the bed. You exclaim with carefree delight as you bounce on the surface and scramble up onto your elbows to watch him hastily remove his blazer as he kicks off his shoes. "Tan chingona y coqueta, when you know how fucking wound up you get me—" is his surly snarl as he unbuckles his belt and swiftly discards it in order to hurriedly undress.

While he's not looking, you sit up to lean back on your haunches and shed your dress overhead and off before brazenly tossing it to sail in the air and land on his head. He snorts and turns when you laugh impishly and watch him flick the dress to the floor before he cocks a challenging brow at you.

"Come here," you purr and crook your finger beckoningly at him.

He does so, loping over while busily unbuttoning his dress shirt whilst eyeing you smugly as he nears. The bedroom is dark, and the only illumination is coming from the open opaque drapes. The window beyond them lets in the moonlit night that filters through the sheer curtains. You look like a sprite, sitting up on your knees, completely nude and alluringly gazing at him.

Once he's within reach, you snag the open front plackets of his shirt and tow him closer so you can dutifully tug the hem loose from his partially undone slacks, leaning in to brush soft kisses along his exposed sternum as you unbutton the shirt cuffs for him before pushing the garment off of his shoulders.

"I want you, hermoso. But I also want to take it slow so we can savor it, since I'm going to miss you so much," you murmur, staring up at him through your lashes as he shrugs the shirt off to the floor.

"You just don't wanna get punished after being a fuckin' tease," he rumbles puckishly and holds out his wrist so you can take his watch off for him while he smirks at you trying to keep your plush lips from pulling into a cunning smile.

"I love how you think being a bossy grouch in bed with me is punishment," you snicker as you remove his watch and scamper over to the foot of the bed to reach the dresser and place it on the surface. At Javier's charming chuckle, you turn back and watch him unzip his pants while he wryly shakes his head at you.

"Fine. I'll dominate the hell out of you some other time, then," Javi drawls in a gravelly tone as he sheds his slacks, then removes his socks one by one before tossing them in the empty hamper to stand in his gray skivvies with his hands on his hips. "Now, you c'mere," he orders in a grouse and smirks when you prowl like a tigress back towards him before sitting on your knees so you can hook your arms around his shoulders and lean into his warm, broad torso.

Pulling you against him more, Javi kisses you, relishing your little mewl of yearning as he claims your mouth voraciously with his own. He seamlessly hoists you up so that you can wrap your legs around him as he clambers onto the bed and balances you in his hold before easing up on the passion of his kiss to lay you on your back and hover over you. The moonlight and the glean of the city's lights illuminate your nude form now stretched out under him, and catches on his broad shoulders as he sits up to cup his hand between your thighs and touch your tingling center.

You hiccup a whimper when his fingers glide through your drenched folds before parting them. He groans lustfully, "Fuck, you're so wet," pausing to admire how the slick dampening your cunt gleams in the lowlight. He presses his thumb over the hood of your clit and grinds against it just right, just like he knows you like it, and watches you shiver with pleasure as you simper out a little noise of need. "Gonna make sure you come so hard that you soak my fingers, preciosa—"

"Mmph! Javi," you react to his declaration, clinging to him and trying to shove his underwear off with your feet so he can be totally naked and on top of you. "Oh, take this off—"

"I thought you wanted it nice and slow?" he taunts, slipping two fingers into your silken cunt. "Something about savoring it?" is his leering drawl as he curves his thick digits up to brush that spot you can't quite reach yourself, drawing out a moan from you. "Keeping 'em on is the only thing stopping me from railing the fuck out of you like I want—"

You arch and toss your hair back on a groan, blushing at how a new wave of arousal floods your sheath and makes the squelching of your cunt being finger-fucked by him even louder than your panting breaths. "You want that?" is your pitchy mewl as you tighten your grip on his biceps before undulating your hips in time with the plunging pace of his fingers. When his eyes narrow on your luscious smirk, you goad, "C-Can't control yourself any other way?"

His fingers are yanked from your eager pussy so quick that the needy whine that comes out of you has you writhing in flustered heat, but you jolt when he reels back, thinking he's going to leave you like this, but then see he's rushing to get out of his boxer-briefs. He's kicked them off and yanked you by your waist up into his lap in seconds, and before you can gather your wits, Javier is grinding you down on his throbbing, ramrod cock.

Your cry is of titillated hunger, feeling singed through by how the thick of him has stretched you so good while your yearning cunt clenches around him.

He groans, arms encircling your waist tight and keeping you flush to him as you bury your face in his neck. "Feels like you're the one who can't control yourself, malcriada," he husks against your ear, exhaling an amused chuckle when you squeeze your arms around his neck and protest with a weak hum. "Huh, that doesn't sound convincing, mi amor."

Oh, he's so damned cocky. You decide to get him back the way you know will have him caving to you instantly.

You clench your floor muscles around his cock hard and graze your teeth down the side of his neck before nipping the slope that connects to his broad shoulder, then suckle with a lascivious hum.

The world spins and your back hits the bed before you've finished blinking, and Javier has buried a hand in the back of your hair and fisted the strands possessively as he moans shamelessly before he snaps his hips back and slams his thrust full force into you. You see stars and arch as you cry out, nails digging into the backs of his shoulders as you cling to him.

His pupils are blown out when he plants his free hand next to your head so he can adjust the cant of his thrusts in order to barrel into you with abandon in this new angle that has his cock hitting the cluster of pleasure nested within you dead center, over and over until you are spun up into an incinerating orgasm.

"Fuck! Oh god-oh god—" you wail, completely lost to the throes of your climax as he prolongs it and watches you sob, "Jah-Javi!"

He bows his head into your chest with a snarl of accomplishment as you gush warm slick in your raucous release and whimper airily. His cock is pulsing with need, but he slows his pace in order to draw you down from the stratosphere of pleasure and start working you back up.

"Tan brava," he huskily growls against the valley between your breasts before he nuzzles your sweaty skin and trails his tongue down to trace the cup of your left tit, where he leaves a love bite on the swell of it. "Eres mía, tiernita," is his molasses thick purr before he nuzzles over to your right breast and suckles hard on your nipple.

Your pussy clenches around his throbbing shaft as your breath catches in your throat. "I'm yours, Javi," you drunkenly cry as you bury your hands in the back of his hair and arch into his mouth. "All yours," is your sigh when he frees your nipple and traces the tip of his tongue over the pebbled flesh.

Javi teasingly grazes his teeth over your studded nipple, earning a breathy gasp to catch in your chest. "Yeah, you are," is his velvety purr before he suckles the underside of this breast, then nips you lightly before soothing the bite with his tongue. It's a possessive show of dominance, and it makes your silken sheath clench around him.

When his gaze flicks up to you, his eyes are smoldering with desire, and you think he's going to fuck you with abandon. Instead, Javier adjusts so he can hook one of your legs over his forearm and hold you open to him as he rocks into you, then out, then back in – setting an exquisite pace, taking his time so he can feel his cock grind against every ridge inside of you. He wants to feel you pulse around him as he fucks you nice and slow – to watch you clench around him and get revved up into a titillated tizzy.

You grip the bedding and arch when his thrusts angle upwards, bringing him to rut against your thrumming clit in time with the plunge of his cock hitting your pleasure point nestled deep inside you.

Javi thinks he can hold out. That he can get you to climax again before he chases his own need, but you moan and gaze up at him in the throes of your pleasure before you reach for him and pleadingly grip his chest. The whimper you let out inarticulately beckons for him – to have him on top of you and his mouth claiming yours while he fucks you so good.

He gives into it. Leans down to capture your lips and delve into your hungry mouth as he gives into the carnal desire zinging through him. You passionately kiss him back, sucking on his bottom lip before mewling when he rapaciously drags his mouth away to suckle hard on your sloping muscle.

"Javi!" you cry out in ecstasy, overcome by the ravenous pleasure as his thrusts have you careening over the edge into another blistering orgasm.

Your pulsing cunt clamps down on him and floods over with your climax, stoking a ferocious pride in his chest at having you come apart so fiercely. But the moment you whimper rapturously under him and drag your nails down his back? Javi loses the tether of control and fucks into you with need, pace stuttering under the onslaught of his pleasure overtaking him as he comes hard inside of you, groaning your name hoarsely while in the height of his bliss washing over him.

The taut heat that flutters in you when he spills his release is amazing, and you moan a sated sound when he loses coordination and clumsily unhooks your leg from his hold as he collapses on top of you.

The sound of the air-conditioning kicking on muffles your staccato breath and his ragged panting against your neck, and the cool air soothes your scalding, heaving bodies as you both recover from the euphoric and sublime high of falling into bliss together so ardently.

Once he's able to think straight, he grunts huskily before propping himself up so he can nuzzle a path up from your neck to your lips, where he presses adoring kisses before smiling against your cheek at your satiated sigh as you languidly rub his sweaty back.

"Nice and slow is fucking hot," he husks puckishly before brushing his nose impishly against yours.

You giggle breathily and graze your teeth over his plush bottom lip before suckling the morsel with a sensuous hum. "Told you, guapito," you silkily murmur, earning a hum from him before he starts trailing kisses along your jaw. You comb your fingers through the back of his hair and let him kiss a path down your neck to the love bite on the slope towards your shoulder.

The heat of his mouth when he presses a tender kiss over it makes you tingle and swoon.

When he can move, he shifts up and off of you to lie on his back next to your nubile form, taking a deep breath and letting it out through his nose. You turn your head so you can kiss the top of his shoulder. He smiles, and you admire his moonlit profile, fawning over how handsome he looks when he's relaxed – savoring the post-coital serenity that gravitates you two closer to each other.

It remains while you both shower, basking under the warm water and your tender, soft touches.

While you dry your hair, Javier goes out to the living room to make a call. Once you're done and in your cozy robe, you find him on the couch in just the towel he'd tucked around his trim waist, finishing the other half of your sandwich.

"Oh, that's gone cold! I'll make you a fresh one, babe," you tut, but he takes your hand before you can rush off and pulls you in to sit on his lap while he shakes his head.

"Nah, this is perfect," he assures when he's done chewing his current bite. "All set for tomorrow. Trujillo will pick you up at the airport in Medellín—"

"I don't want to trouble him, Javi," you sigh, and he rolls his eyes before finishing the sandwich with two big bites. "Doesn't he have a shift to work?"

He grunts before swallowing. "Shit in Medellín is so low threat now that they've scaled back on hours, so a lot of the guys are picking up side gigs. I owe him big time, and he has the flexibility, so quit fretting," he drawls and gives you a cheeky squeeze before patting your thigh. "You get in bed. I'll shut things off."

Smiling, you relent with a musing hum and peck him on the lips before getting up and loping on tired, sore muscles to the bedroom. By the time Javier has shut the TV off, brushed his teeth, hung up the towel from around his waist onto the rack, and turned out the bathroom light in order to feel his way back into the semi-penumbra of his bedroom, he finds you sans robe and fast asleep on his side of the bed, illuminated by the dim nocturnal glow sifting through the sheer curtains. He snickers at the sight, figuring you must've been so tuckered out that you slid into bed with the intention of shimmying under the covers over to your side, and just didn't make it before dozing off.

He crawls onto the bed and eases himself under the covers next to you, and finds himself easily drifting off to sleep once you've snuggled closer to him and looped your arm around his waist.

The next morning, the rays of dawn filtering through the curtains slowly stirs you and have your eyes fluttering drowsily. Your cheek is resting on Javi's chest, and you realize he's awake when you feel his fingertips caressing lazily along the back of your shoulder. You stretch your legs and sidle against him, not in a rush to part with his warm skin.

"We never keep the drapes open. Waking up and being able to watch the sun come in, seeing the light warm you, was nice," Javi murmurs, timbre rough with disuse.

You hum, kissing his chest before tilting your face up to his while you glide your affectionate touch up from his side to his other pectoral. His eyes are warm pools of dark chocolate with flares of chestnut as the sunlight accentuates his handsome features. His tousled strands of hair that stand askew are earthy cocoa shades, dark brows relaxed while the stubble along his jaw makes a scraping sound when you cup his cheek. Your thumb sweeps over to trace his full lips after skimming over his moustache, and he grunts softly when you scratch affectionately at his cheek while you smile.

"It's not as nice as my view right now," is your smoky purr as you caress your fingertips up to trace along his brow before brushing them up his forehead to toy with the unruly whisps of hair fanning across it.

His eyes close and he sighs serenely, always soothed by your touch. You take advantage and lean up to kiss him chastely on the lips. Javi encircles his arms around you when you go to slink away, pressing you against him so he can chase your lips and deepen the kiss.

When he pulls back to comb his fingers through your hair and gaze lovingly at you, admiring how the sun catches in your hair and casts you in golden relief, you smile brighter, feeling that effervescent feeling of contentment that only Javi gazing at you so is able to stir up in you.

"I was thinking. Maybe we can take a trip – after everything here is settled – and you can take me to Laredo?" you find yourself blurting, then quickly becoming sheepish when his expression softens with surprise. "You know, take you up on your offer to meet your dad?" is your elaboration, and when his eyes crinkle in confusion, you scoff and smirk, deadpanning, "Ah, you don't remember that, huh?"

His eyes narrow in concentration and his brows scrunch together, but he still parcels, "Sure I do."

"Such a liar," you snicker before shuffling up against him to playfully bop him on the nose with your finger before gliding it down to his lips in order to trace his bottom lip when he pouts. "You said it when I brought your drunk ass home after movie night. Asked if I'd want to go to Laredo and meet you dad."

Javier wracks his brain, and can vacantly remember staring down at you in the elevator, and you smiling alluringly.

Before he can retort, you sardonically sigh and go to maneuver away. "Oh well, never mind then—"

Sparing a glance at the alarm clock and seeing there's ample time to spare, he rolls so he can be on top of you. "C'mon, drunk or not, you know that's what I want, cariño. We'll do it," Javi insists, soulful eyes lowering to your lips as he rumbles, "Let's do it."

When he leans down and tries to kiss you again, you chuckle and coquettishly turn your face, smiling when huffs. Tracing your touch down his neck to the hickey you left on him, you change the subject by chiming, "We should take advantage of being up early, stud. I'll finish packing, then make breakfast—"

"Fuck breakfast," he interrupts boldly and tosses the comforter back so he can sit up and pull you along with him. You squeal comically at being bare in the very chilly room, and cling to his warm form, which earns a smug chuckle from him and his hands to wander over you possessively. "C'mon, we have plenty of time," he drawls in a honeyed timbre that turns an octave lower when he grinds you down on his lap as he whispers, "Need to have you, querida."

Want blooms in your core and spikes arousal down into the clutch of your cunt as you feign absentmindedness. "Oh? How so, dulzón?"

His coffee-brewed eyes narrow and his mouth pulls into a cunning smirk. "I was gonna get on my back and let you ride me, but now that you wanna play, and pretend to be a silly girl?" he rasps in a dark pitch, the kind that rakes desire over you like sinful silk, and you feel yourself get shamelessly wet as he suddenly manhandles you onto your hands and knees on the bed, facing the wall.

Your breath catches excitedly in your chest as he hitches up behind you and spanks his hand down on your plump glute. "I'm gonna dominate the fuck out of you instead, malcriada," is his grouse against the back of your ear before he nips it lightly and ruts his cock against the tight cleft of your ass.

Yes, there's plenty of time for Javier to possessively fuck you on all fours while the early morning comes through the curtains, washing you in golden light as you arch before him and beg, "Oh please, please, please!" while he pounds your pussy from behind and grips his hands tight on you shoulder and hip. And he takes his time crowding over you to leave a fresh love bite to the back of your neck as he rails you so hard that you can't even hear anything over the loud squelch of your cunt being plundered jubilantly by him along with the filth he's growling gruffly into your ear.

"That's it. That's my girl. Fucking take it," he rumbles, tone assertive yet loving as he hammers his cock into you with rough abandon, getting high on the power you've allowed him to take, alight with how you moan and flood with warm slick and clamp around him.

He groans as you whimper desperately while mindlessly rocking your hips back and arching, features melting into the throes of ecstasy as you cry, "Javi!"

Your pussy ripples around his throbbing cock as you're propelled towards the precipice of orgasm, and it springs cloying savage need in him – pace becoming feral as he growls, "Yeah, j-just like that. Take it, fucking take all of it—!"

Pleasure tears you asunder into a blazing climax that has you tossing your head back and grappling to ground yourself as if you're grasping to not fall blindly into bliss for real, gripping his wrist at your waist and the pillow before you as you wail his name. The way you gush your orgasm and writhe has Javier primally triumphant. It's also his undoing, because he tries to soothe you by nuzzling your neck, but ends up wrapping his arms around you and chasing his own fervent release when you moan, "Give it to me, Javi."

His mind hazes over when he fills you with his cum and hunches over you, drunk on the high and lightheaded as you melt down onto your tummy and take him with you. You turn your head dazedly to seek out his mouth with your own, dragging your lips across his jaw and cheek before he hums into kissing you. Javi then nudges his head affectionately against yours and exhales an accomplished sound before curling you both sidelong to recover – sweaty and sticky as you both lie in post-coital repose, pressed skin-to-skin as you lounge in the afterglow.

The bliss of it – being taken apart by him and pulled back together by his doting kisses and adoring touches – is short-lived when he lifts his head enough to look at the clock again and groans. Not enough time. Never enough time…

It weighs on him, and while you both rush to shower and get ready, he finds himself reluctant to part with you, especially with the foreboding feeling pressing in on him.

Javier doesn't know where things will go today, or how securing Pallomari will turn out in the long run, but moreover, he doesn't know how he can reconcile the truth he knows – how the deck has been stacked against them from the start.

He doesn't want to tell you.

Even so, when he drives you to the airport, the truth of it sits like a weight on his tongue, but he endeavors to keep that buried down. So, when he pulls up to the departures entrance of the terminal, he gets out and chivalrously takes your bag out of the car in order to give it to you on the curb. Before he's finished placing it down, you've wrapped your arms around his shoulders, hugging him tight and kissing the side of his neck before leaning up on your tippy toes in your leather flats to kiss him with unabashed love.

His hand buries in the back of your hair and deepens the kiss, pulling you into him by the small of your back.

The anxiety that springs up in your chest is lancing, and you internally admonish yourself as you pull back and caress his cheek. "I love you," you susurrate before melting a little when he leans down to press his forehead to yours, arms encircling you tight to him. When you nuzzle him and sigh, he holds on to you, not wanting to part, and you find that the worry needles up in your chest again, and it has you pleading softly, "Please, Javi. Please be careful. All of you need to watch your backs."

"Don't worry, querida. I promise, we'll be careful, and all this shit will be over soon," Javier proclaims, kissing you one last time before he forces himself to let you slip from his embrace. "I love you," he tells you, and you smile with genuine serenity, because you believe him.

You trust everything he's said, so you collect your purse and suitcase, playfully caress your touch to brush his hair back from his forehead, and lilt, "Buena suerte, agente."

He watches you stride off into the terminal, and once you're out of sight, he gets in the car and drives himself to the Hotel Centro Internacional, where Jorge Salcedo and his family are currently holed up, under DEA security protection.

While you make it through the terminal towards your gate after getting your boarding pass, Javier parks at the hotel and steels himself for a difficult conversation. He's not had much personal interaction with Salcedo direct, not since finding out during the San Jardín raid that he was the C.I. codenamed Natalia. And since, he's had his moments of trepidation about the man. Truthfully, he feels guilt for what could've happened to him had Feistl not insisted on storming the building. But the persistent part of him compartmentalizes the guilt and justifies the experience only lending itself to being a great motivator for convincing Jorge to help them locate Guillermo Pallomari.

And, once he gets the man one-on-one up on the terrace of the hotel to chat? As soon as he's confirmed that the paperwork is almost ready at the embassy and that he and his family will be on the first flight out in the morning, Javi hits Salcedo with the question.

"Guillermo Pallomari. You have any idea where we can find him?"

"No. Why do you need him?"

Javier details how the Rodríguez brothers gave 6 million dollars to the Samper presidential campaign, and makes it clear that without Pallomari testifying in the states – going on the record in order to generate new indictments, it's not likely that the Cali godfathers will remain in prison. Salcedo doesn't balk. If anything, he's exasperated, and makes it clear his top concern is about his family's safety. Javier thinks the man is going to hedge back – turn him down, but then, he looks him in the eye and tells Javier the biggest lead. That Pallomari's wife was having an affair with a man at her office. That the phones in the cartel safehouse he'd stashed Pallomari and his family had been tapped.

Then, he hits Javier with the question: "And he can keep them in prison?"

"We find Pallomari or the godfathers walk."

"You're not going to find him without me," Salcedo counters, resolute.

Javier can't help acerbically huff, before slightly smirking as he chuckles, "You're right."

Salcedo is resigned, but stressed. He tells Javier he's in, but wants to discuss it with his wife. So, once they head back down to the hotel room, Javier leaves him to it and calls the fellas with the update while he waits out in the hall. By the time he and Jorge are in the car, driving to the airport in order to meet Feistl and Van Ness at the cargo plane hangar to ride down to Cali together on a chartered flight, you're just landing in Medellín.

You exit the terminal and see Trujillo, dressed in plainclothes, with a light jacket that hides his shoulder holster and badge. He waves you down, and you hustle through the crowd to greet and thank him.

"—I'm so sorry Javier troubled you—"

"No trouble at all!" he assures and places your bag in the backseat before opening the passenger door for you.

Once you're in the vehicle and driving down to your appointment with the lawyer, you take the chance to call Javi and check in.

He's just finished securing the secondary charter to be on standby for the extraction in Cali when his cell phone rings. Signaling that he needs to take the call, Javi strides to the side of the open hangar and answers, "Peña."

"Hey! Just calling to let you know I made it in, boss man," you chime affably into his ear, and the tension in his shoulders subsides. "Everything ok on your end?"

"Yeah. Just about to board the plane. I won't be able to check in the rest of the time I'm down there," he tells you, hand on his hip as he paces. "I'll call you once we're back. It might not be until late, though—"

"That's fine. I want you to call and let me know you're all right as soon as you can," you insist, then sigh fretfully. "Please be safe, mi amor."

"I will, querida. You take care, ok?" he assertively rumbles, and when you hum in agreement, he husks, "I love you."

"I love you too, Javi."

"We love you very much, Peñita!" Trujillo shouts good-naturedly so Javi can hear, and he blows a raspberry while you giggle irreverently.

"Take care, and talk soon," you retort before you both exchange goodbyes.

He feels a little lighter after the call, and with renewed pep in his step, he rushes back into the hangar and is soon boarding the plane with the other three men.

The flight to Cali gives him a lot of time to think, and the closer they get to their destination, the more he can feel the collective tension amongst them.

So, as they begin their descent, Javier assures, "Once we step off this plane, whatever goes down is on me. We are way off the well-lit path."

Minutes later, they land in a provincial airfield with a single runway tarmac. Deboarding, they get in the waiting SUV Suburban and start prepping for the day – divvying up portable radios and handguns. Salcedo rejects Dan's offer to carry one of the pistols, and while Chris drives, Javier goes over the plan once more. As he details how they'll split up so they can try to track Pallomari's location via Salcedo's wiretap connections at the telephone company, you're just arriving to your grandmother's – well, now more officially, your cousin's soon-to-be-house, after finishing with the attorney. Your aunt is already there when you arrive, so you assure Trujillo that you'll be fine, and after you confirm some updates with him, he gives you his card with his cell phone number on the back and insists that you call him if you need anything.

You spend a while sitting in the kitchen catching up with your aunt about things regarding the house, the changes in the accounts for the utilities, and your plans for packing up things. The subject regarding sorting through decades of memories and personal effects starts to bog you down in the mire of overwhelming sadness when mercifully, your cousin arrives from work and gives you a needed reprieve. While your aunt makes an early supper, you and your cousin work around the house together, dusting and cleaning while you talk. Every so often, your mind wanders to Javier, and you have to quell the anxious worry that fizzles up within you. He's going to be safe. He said this'll all be over soon. Trust him.

What you don't know is that Javier is just linking up with his agents and Salcedo after successfully baiting Fredy Moya – who called Pallomari's wife and warned her of the DEA coming around asking questions and looking for her, and with the call he made traced to an apartment north of the city, they were on their way there. Unbeknownst to them was that the man would seek out David Rodríguez to trade information, and that with David torturing it out of him, it was now a race to get to Pallomari.

Parked on the street and remaining in the SUV as a lookout, Salcedo places his radio in close reach and takes the driver's seat as the agents head up to the apartment building in formation. Feistl takes the lead, with Van Ness covering him and Javier at their rear, making sure no one can sneak up on them. They hustle up the stairwell and locate the apartment door. With a nod of consent, Chris bangs on the door. They can hear muffled rushing and anxious chatter from within, so Javier gestures for Chris to try to enter. Finding it locked, he decides to kick it open, and once he does, Dan is at his side as they come in weapons drawn, shouting for Pallomari to put his gun down.

Javier breezes in between both agents with his DEA badge up, coaxing the harried man and wife to calm down, and assuring them he's there to help. Once the wife makes sure their sons are safe and closes the door to the bedroom, she and Pallomari warily sit in the living room to talk with the three agents. Really, it ends up being an exasperating session of haggling and semantics between Javier and Guillermo. He's barely keeping his patience – everything in him is simmering with the annoyance of controlling his temper while the man questions about what kind of house they'll get, even having the gall to say that his family are accustomed to a certain square footage. But when Javier tells him he has no option other than what he's presenting him, and that this is the only way to keep his family safe? Guillermo seems to get it, so Javier tells them to pack their things, but the wife – Patricia – begins to spiral. She rambles about needing a week to get her affairs at work in order, that they need to give them a week to get things organized, that she cannot just up and leave like this. Her voice gets harried and the more Guillermo tries to diffuse her, the more hysterical she becomes.

Before Javier's even realized it, his temper has boiled over, causing him to bellow, "Okay!" rendering the couple into stunned silence while Chris and Dan bristle where they stand at the ready. He realizes he needs to rein everything in quickly, so Javier tells Guillermo to go pack his children's things while he talks to Patricia. As soon as her husband is out of earshot in the next room, Javier hits her with, "I know about Fredy Moya. It's none of my business—"

"You're right. It's not your problem," she snaps back.

"You realize what happens if they find you?" he levels evenly. "And your kids?"

She flounders, getting frazzled, insisting she can't just leave without saying goodbye. That they're in love. Javier then tells her with finality that if she stays, she will die.

That sinks in. She nods and rushes to pack, to corral her two sons and hustle them to get ready to go while she hastily gathers belongings and shoves them into a suitcase. Javier feels that cagey tension ebb in him, but he knows there's still ways to go. Dan and Chris start pushing them to pack it up to leave, and once Guillermo snaps at his wife that they're done and there's no more stuff to grab, that it's time to head out, Javier radios in to Salcedo.

"We're on our way down."

Chris leads the way down the stairwell to the first landing overlooking the lobby and halts so Javier can sprint down ahead of him to get to the door and radio to confirm, "Salcedo, we're in the lobby now. Are we clear?" There's no immediate response. Javier attempts again. "Salcedo." Still no response, so he radios more adamantly, "Jorge, we clear or not?"

There's a pause before the radio engages. "All clear."

"Copy," Javier confirms before turning to the others and pressing, "All right, stay close."

Javier is the first out the entry door, and once the Pallomari's come out, Dan and Chris flank them to check both sides of the intersection before confirming nothing is amiss. Up ahead is the SUV. It'd been raining when they'd driven over to this part of the city, so the windshield was covered in condensation and water. The pavement smelled damp all around him, and there was no breeze. Everything seemed still – until the gunshot.

They all take shelter behind the nearest car at the opposite side of the street, huddling down at the curb. Javier ducks down and peers around it to see Jorge unload his pistol down into a man on the ground next to the open passenger door he'd seemingly fallen out of. Once the shooting stops, Javier bounds over cautiously and recognizes the now dead sicario to be Navegante.

Staring at Salcedo, he barks, "What the fuck happened?"

With his arms outstretched in a stance of compliance, Jorge gestures to Navegante. "He has the keys."

Without missing a beat, Javier looks over his agents and shouts, "Let's move!" before kneeling to scoop up the car keys Navegante dropped, tosses them to Chris, and rushes with Dan's help to drag the dead man's body away from the car to the opposite side of the street while Patricia screams at her kids not to look and Guillermo irately questions why Salcedo is there. "He saved your life! Get in the fucking car!" is Javier's barked response as he orders everyone to get in, shoving the nervous man to the back seat while Dan piles the kids to the back and Chris jumps into the driver's seat, with a stunned Jorge getting in behind him.

They're speeding off and away as the sounds of police sirens grow nearer. Javi spares a look at the side mirror and watches Navegante's lifeless body disappear with distance. The depraved, sadistic satisfaction he gets knowing the bastard who'd kidnapped you – that had been the triggerman-for-hire to every lowdown fucking cartel – had been gunned down and left on the wet pavement like he'd done to countless others? It should make him question his morals. But for once, Javi feels gratified, and is sure he'll sleep just fucking fine tonight.

The sendoff of Pallomari onto the chartered flight that would ferry him and his family stateside into DEA protective custody went seamless, all things considering, and once they were off the runway, he, Jorge, Dan and Chris boarded their waiting plane and headed back to Bogotá.

They're not even finished deboarding the plane when the unmarked SUV with the security detail ferrying Salcedo's wife and daughters arrives to board the other awaiting jet Javier had coordinated. Stoddard was in tow with their embassy documents, so with paperwork in hand, Javier ushers Jorge and his family onto the other plane.

"Chris and Dan are going to escort you. They'll see to making sure you all have everything you need," he's telling Jorge as he hands him the documents. "Take care of yourself."

Jorge shakes Javier's hand, nodding curtly. "Thank you, Agent Peña."

After huddling with Chris and Dan one last time, he shakes both their hands and pats them on the back before gesturing for them to climb aboard. "Stay in touch. My old partner, Steve Murphy, will meet you on the tarmac when you land," he tells them before joking to Dan, "Try and be more patient than I was with Pallomari."

"I can't make any promises, boss," Dan quips before hustling up the plane's stairs and ducking his tall frame in to enter the cabin.

"Thanks for backing us, boss," Chris tells Javi with a nod before he follows his partner up into the plane.

Javier rides back with Stoddard to the office and hears more great news.

"—David Rodríguez was gunned down in a drive-by, along with several of his associates."

Again, it shouldn't please him so viscerally to hear, but he feels the warm embrace of sweet retribution come over him, and by the time he gets to his apartment, only a few hours before dawn, Javi is buzzing.

Your cell phone rings loudly on the bedside table, and you groan, rolling over to face it when panic leaps up in you. Javi!

Scrambling up and reaching for it, you answer, "Hello?"

"It's done."

You feel a wave of vertigo before excitement punches it away once your anxious mind registers how teeming with exuberance Javi's tone is. "You got him?"

"Yes. He'll be in court testifying in a sealed grand jury in a couple of hours. My guys are escorting Salcedo and his family into witness protection," he tells you in a rush, breath stuttering before he rumbles, "It's done, everything I needed to do…"

Your heart soars, and the happy tears that crest your eyes dampen your lashes as you flutter them. "Oh, I'm so proud of you, Javi!" you gush, absently wiping at your cheek when a couple of tears drop. "You've worked so hard, have done everything – gone above and beyond to succeed and make a difference. You should be proud," you tell him, overcome. When he exhales tensely, you scoff derisively, "Oh my god, c'mon, chavón. Don't make the first thing I do when I see you be to wring your neck and browbeat you! You should be proud, dammit."

His husky, honeyed chuckle makes you smile. "I am, chingona! Just wish you were here. Dying to put my arms around you," he retorts with sincere, albeit crooning warmth. "I know it's late, so go back to sleep—"

"What're you wearing?" you interrupt sultrily.

Javi hums a gruff sound of protest. "Fuck, don't tease me like that, baby—"

"I want to know what you're wearing, guapito," you silkily press and lean back in bed, tingling from the heat of your arousal for him, still sore from the sexy romp that morning and now idly caressing the love bite he left on the sloping muscle connecting your shoulder. "Paint a picture for me."

His snort is rueful, but he answers in a canela-brined drawl, "I just got home. Wearing the same clothes from this morning: dark blue jeans, a button down – the one you said is nice and soft…"

"The chambray blue one?" you chime, pressing your thighs together. He grunts in confirmation, and you can hear him shuffle backwards onto a soft surface. You picture him stretching out on his bed.

"You wearing that sexy batita?" he husks ruggedly, which makes excitement flutter in your tummy.

"I wouldn't call it sexy, but yes – I'm in the batita, all alone in bed," you sigh, wishing he was there with you. That he was hiking up your nightgown and settling between your welcoming thighs. His huff becomes muffled by the heavy yawn he lets out. "Oh, I'm such a jerk. You haven't slept! Go take a shower and get some sleep, mi amor."

He grumpily hums, but you can hear the smirk in his voice when he drawls, "Alright, you wicked little tease. I'll call you tonight. I love you."

"I love you too," you murmur. "Goodnight, stud."

Javi chuckles. "Goodnight, querida."

You find out the breadth of Javier's successful raid later that afternoon when you and your cousin finish going to town hall and transferring over the utility accounts into her name. The covers of every newspaper on the newsstand tell of a violent night in Cali, of the DEA spiriting away sources who've turned evidence and testimony against the Cali cartel, of grand jury indictments and U.S. federal backlash to come against the Colombian government amidst charges of corruption.

And when you get back to the house? You are glued to the television as the evening news details how financial evidence presented to a U.S. grand jury implicated members throughout all echelons of government – public officials throughout the entire country – as being on Cali's payroll. And when they splash a bulletin that alleges possible knowledge of said corruption within the halls of the Nacional Palace and that the surrender deal was entertained for so long in bad faith? Your mind flashes to how distraught Javier had been after capturing Miguel Rodríguez. Did he know? That the corruption went all the way up to the President? Is that why he was so disillusioned—

The ringing of your cell phone makes you jump, and you rush to quickly retrieve it from the coffee table and answer it.

"Hey, corazón. How are you?" Javi's rich baritone washes over you, subduing all the questions that had been galloping wildly in your mind.

"Better, now that you've called," you tell him honestly, smile clear in your voice. "I miss you."

"I miss you too. Everything with the house go alright?"

"Yeah. I just have an appointment in the morning to transfer a few more things. I'll have to come back soon to start packing things up and seeing what we should donate, what they'll want to keep in the house, and what will go in storage…" you feel a lump start to tangle in your throat, so you clear it and sink back into the couch. "I was just watching the news."

"Hmph, yeah. I got a meeting with Crosby in the morning about it," he mutters, and you can make out the click of his lighter before he inhales and puffs out the smoke from his freshly lit cigarette. "What time is your flight?"

"Not until the afternoon, and I figured you'd be busy, so I'll take a cab," you tell him, and at his grumble, you tut, "Nope, I don't want to hear it. Trujillo was a great escort, but now that you've effectively nailed the Cali cartel for good, I think I'm free and in the clear of ever getting snatched up—"

"Not by the assholes from before, no. They're dead," Javi tells you in a tone he's never used with you before. It's a mixture of cutting and gloating, and it raises the little hairs on the back of your neck. He seems to catch it, at least by how he reproachfully huffs at himself. "I'm sorry, that wasn't right—"

"They're dead?" you ask, the macabre curiosity prickling you to know more as you sit up straight.

Javi hesitates, annoyed with himself for being so callously flippant. He sets his cigarette down on the lip of his ash tray and scrubs his fingers over his moustache before dragging them down to his chin. "Navegante? I saw it happen for myself. He got taken out…and the little fucker who'd ordered it, David Rodríguez – he got killed along with a few of his guys in a drive-by," he tells you, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his desk. In a low, bass-pitched baritone, he confesses, "I only wish I could've been the one to pull the trigger—"

"Javi," you breathe out, pitch tremulous. "It's over. We don't have to worry about them anymore. You kept your promise, and now it's done. There're just good things to look forward to, and it's up to us what we want those things to be," is your assurance, and hearing it said so concisely but with so much hope fills Javi up with your loving, protective grace. "I love you, Javi," you susurrate, and he exhales in relief, eyes closing as your words wrap around him.

He says your name with amorous feeling before telling you, "—Te amo con toda mi alma. So much so, that as soon as we can, I'm taking you home. Want you to come to Laredo with me, because, well, fuck – I'm going to need a vacation after all of this, and I can't be without you."

Your effervescent laugh is charmed and loving, and it makes him feel so deserving. That he's done what he needed to, and is now worthy of the life he wants to build with you.

"I want the same, Javi. I can't wait," you retort, the cheeky smile evident in your tone as you add, "And I can't wait to get my hands on your baby pictures, finally!"

He laughs, and it feels so good to laugh after everything, and even though he sees some heads turn towards his office, he doesn't care. "I'll see you tomorrow, hermosa."

"Good luck with Crosby. Bye!"

Javier feels like he's free of the proverbial albatross he'd hung around his neck since he'd agreed to come back to Colombia. All the acrimonious fury, the stress, the failures and disenchantment haven't gone away, but have become less potent within him. The loathing and doubt go quiet, allowing him to tie up bureaucratical matters in regards to the Cali cartel investigation, and by the time he's getting ready the next morning to head to the embassy and meet with the ambassador, the hope he feels sits prominently in his chest, pushing him forward – holding out that full justice will be served to all who deserve it.

But, of course, nothing is as it seems, or goes as it should.

Crosby comes in smug. For some reason, Javier knows immediately things are not going to go as he'd hoped.

"Y'know how many times I've gotten a call from the Department of Justice and State the same morning?" the man drawls, pausing to smirk as he adds, "Count 'em on one finger. Guess we have you to thank for that." Javier glances down at the conference table, already steeling himself for how this is going to go. "I'm headed over to the National Palace right now to make it clear to President Samper himself that the godfathers stay in jail. At least for the foreseeable future."

"But that's as far as it goes?" Javier queries, and when Crosby narrows his glacial stare on him, he forges on with, "We drew up a draft indictment outlining President Samper's ties to the Cali cartel."

"Alleged ties," Crosby counters, expression sharpening as he presses, "And I suggest you keep that draft to yourself. The DOJ's not going to topple a government, Agent Peña."

Javier's expression hardens, and when he has no retort, Crosby gestures glibly as he goads, "You can't tell me you're surprised by that."

"Some part of me was holding out hope, I guess," he rumbles, hands folded together over the table to keep them from fidgeting in his perturbation, left thumb tapping absently while he trains the muscles in his face to remain as stoic as possible. But his jaw has been ticking – corner of his lips twitching against the deep scowl that wants to take over his features.

Crosby is snarky as he lopes around the conference table, gesturing wryly at Javi as he simpers, "Well, you should tell that part to grow the fuck up." Javi is forced to keep his gaze low, for fear of giving the man the furious look that speaks volumes for how he currently feels. His lips purse as the ambassador drawls, "No, I mean it, Agent Peña. You should be happy. You played the system like a goddamn fiddle."

Javi looks up at him then, head slightly cocked to give him a sidelong glance as Crosby gives him a resigned, musing smile. "You won," he tells him, good-naturedly pattings Javi on the left shoulder as he rounds behind him, and makes his exit.

Disillusioned and debased by the conversation, Javi mutters distantly, "Yes, sir."

He's alone when he says it, the ambassador long gone and not intending to pay the DEA country attaché any more of his time.

Or so he thinks.

The entire exchange demoralizes Javier all over again. But now, it's far more denigrating, because he's being told that his complicity is expected. As if he has no choice in the matter. That everything he'd undertaken, every decision and outcome truly had not mattered, because it'd long been decided that sacrifice and injustice were the small prices to pay for corruption, greed, and political dominion – that everything was fungible as long as those with the right authority did what they were told.

He was supposed to take the win, look away, and move on.

It takes the entire smoke break out at the embassy steps, looking faraway as he stares vacantly at the street beyond, to make his decision.

Javier would not be complicit.

After making two calls, he drives over to El Tiempo, and meets with Carolina. She has a tape recorder, and after she sets it down and warns him of the consequences that will befall him once he goes on the record, she tells him concernedly, "You're going to pay a price."

With an unruffled, albeit ruminating look, Javi tells her, "Press the button."

The story is able to run by the evening news. El Tiempo drops the issue within less than a couple of hours of Javi's interview, and by the time he gets back to the embassy, all hell has broken loose in the DEA. Calmly, Javi finishes clearing out his desk, and manages to keep his stoic ease as Stoddard rushes in with a flurry of questions, updates, and a demand from the ambassador's office that he report upstairs to him immediately.

"—What's going on, sir?! Is it true?" the young man exclaims, about to unravel a litany of questions when Javi holds out his hand.

"You were a great deputy, Stoddard. Thank you for all your work."

Neutralized, the man dimly shakes Javier's hand, and watches as he places his cell phone and satellite phone on his desk before exiting his office in order to go up to the ambassador's.

Now, it's Javi's turn to be glib.

He has no illusions. Nor has he thought beyond this point about what happens next. But as he sits across from Crosby, and goes through the motions, he is so resigned to his decision that he can't allow himself any thought further on what this means for him.

What this will mean for you.

"I want you gone, Peña. So do the Colombians."

Javier's faraway as he nods and replies, "I understand, sir."

There a terse, resentful pause between them before Javi gives a curt nod and stands, beginning to exit towards the door.

"You know…any aspirations you had for your career…just got dragged behind the barn and shot," the ambassador levels, almost ruefully, at Javier.

Turning, Javi weighs that, lips slightly parted musingly, before he retorts, "I resigned from the DEA this morning."

Crosby looks taken aback, and with one final once over, Javi turns and resumes his exit, without a cursory glance backwards, as he leaves. He returns to the DEA department only long enough to grab the box filled with her personal effects, and exits out the side door to avoid the chaos he's unleashed as staffers field calls from counterparts at DOS and DOJ.

You're completely oblivious as you exit the gate with your carry-on suitcase and purse. Swinging the strap of your purse to be cross-body over your silver silk blouse, you're hurrying through the crowd in the terminal to make it out and grab a waiting cab, eager to get to the embassy, catch up on some work, and then rush home to shower Javi with celebratory kisses and hugs. As you round towards the main causeway of the terminal, where amenities like the newsstand, airport bar and lounge, and giftshops are, you've just pulled out your cell phone and turned it back on. You start when it begins to ring immediately, so you slow in your rushing pace and answer.

"—Holy shit, girlie! Where are you?! Did you just land? I've been trying to call—"

"Whoa! Yes, I just got off the plane. What's going on?" you query, feeling trepidation well in you at how harried Ellis sounds.

"You gotta get to the embassy. Shit just hit the fan and it's pandemonium here after the news broke—"

As you hurriedly resume your pace and listen, your gaze fans over the newsstand you're about to pass when you stop dead in your tracks, almost bumping into other hustling passengers as they now breeze by you. Every single newspaper's cover overrides your previous thoughts. But it's the El Tiempo headline that sucker punches you.

"—No one knows what's going on and the rumors are insane—"

"I'm on my way, Ellis. I gotta go!" you tell him quickly and hang up as you shove the phone in your purse and retrieve your pocket book to fish out enough money to pay for a copy, tell the man to keep the change, and snag the issue of El Tiempo up as you now bustle with your things towards the exit.

Once you're in a cab, you skim the intro of the story while you anxiously dial Javi's cell phone. It rings as if the call cannot be completed, so you try his satellite phone, then his office phone, and when none work, you call his apartment number. It rings and rings, but no one answers. What's happening?!

Unable to do anything but be ferried to the embassy, you vacantly stare down at the article before the analytical part of your mind takes over, skimming through.

By the time you arrive at the embassy, you feel like you're in an alternate universe.

Highest-ranking DEA official goes on the record…

U.S. government complicit in knowledge of rampant corruption withing Samper administration…

Tapes reveal how a campaign contribution of six million dollars went into the Samper presidential campaign, funneled by an art dealer acting as a liaison between the current president's staff and Gilberto Rodríguez in exchange for virtual immunity…

DEA country attaché Javier F. Peña went on the record with this reporter to disclose the U.S. government's lack of interest in holding Colombian officials accountable for flagrant corruption….

When you enter your office and ditch your belongings, Ellis gallops in. "Jesus Christ, kid. What the fuck is going on?!"

"I'm going upstairs," you tell him as you rush around him and head to do just that, calling over your shoulder, "I-I'm going up and asking him what happened—"

"He's gone."

Your leather-flat-clad-feet skid as you pause in the middle of the department's workspace and whirl around, not believing you heard him right. "What?"

"We just heard. Javier resigned from the DEA this morning. When the news about the article hit, he went up and told Crosby, and then he left," Ellis tells you haltingly, as if the information will cause you duress.

It's then that you feel the eyes on you. Devon and Jackie peer over from their stations, and the techs who are at their cubicles try to divert their gazes when you fan your stare about.

The world shrinks in around you.

Rushing back into your office, you yank out the copy of El Tiempo from your purse and look for the reporter credited with the interview.

Carolina Álvarez.

Your mind inundates you with recall after recall. The business card with her name on it that had been on Javi's coffee tables so many months ago. How cagey Javier had been when you'd pressed him on talking to a reporter for leads. It all shakes loose into jigsaw pieces that fall into place, allowing your mind to come to some troubling, horrible conclusions.

Javier never gave said conclusions thought. Didn't think about what would happen now that he'd committed career suicide, albeit with a reprieving flourish of quitting before going on the record and napalming things.

In all honesty, he'd been so brought low by the ambassador this morning, that he hadn't thought about what would happen now that he was out at the embassy, or how any of this would affect you.

All he knows is that he has to be out of the apartment in forty-eight hours, and he figures it was only a matter of time before the Colombians revoked his visa. He was wondering if they'd do it immediately and send CNP to collect him and deport him back to the states when he hears the key going into the lock of the front door.

Snapping out of his stupor and standing from where he'd been sitting on the bed while dimly sorting through his important papers he keeps in a shoe box, Javi hears the door open and the rushing footfalls over the jangle of keys as you burst in.

"Javier!" you call out as you drop your purse and keychain to the counter to sprint through the apartment.

You come to a halt in your frenzied pace as he appears in the doorway of the bedroom.

He's sans his blazer and tie – dress shirt rumpled with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The look in his eyes is haunted, and he vacillates, tense and conflicted before you.

"Javi, what happened? What the hell happened?!" you exclaim, incredulous and shaken as you stalk towards him. "They're saying you quit—t-that you quit your job this morning, and that you leaked things to the press—"

At your harried expression, Javi approaches you now in order to explain himself, hands slipping around you in attempt to ground himself. "I know, I'm sorry…everything's happened so quick. I'm sorry for not telling you first—"

"It's true?" you shy away from his embrace, staring in shock. "After everything…after all that's happened, everything we've talked about…how could you do this?" Your eyes plaintively stare at him, and when Javi diverts his gaze shamefully, you snap. "You quit before you went to that woman—that reportera, because you knew you were going to do this? Why? Why would you do this?!"

"They gave me no choice! After everything – they were going to let the government walk after they took a fucking campaign payoff from Cali for blanket immunity!" he exclaims, tempestuously smacking his palm into the wall as he shouts, "They wanted me to be complicit and ignore what they've done—what they'll continue to do unless they're stopped and held accountable!"

You are dismayed and left reeling, truly stunned into disbelief.

"You just destroyed everything we had here," you exhale, backing away from him. "Did you always know you were going to do this? Were you biding your time until now?"

"What?!" Javi is aghast. "No—"

"You've been talking to that reporter since the beginning! And now she's the one you go on the record for, and firebomb your whole life here without even thinking of letting me know?!" you accuse, hands curling into fists as you begin to shake with your fury. "You've never intended to do this—to make a life together, did you?"

"That's not true!" Javi shouts and rushes forward, but you back away and shake your head at him. "Goddammit, that's all I've cared about—"

"You didn't even tell me what happened after you caught Miguel Rodríguez, because you knew since then that you were going to do this. That if things didn't go the way you dictated that they should that you'd expose it all, at the cost of your fucking life here! You knew that no matter what, there was nothing else you could do to force the issue aside from hanging yourself out to dry—to sacrifice your fucking career and make yourself the goddamned martyr, without ever thinking about what would happen to us! What would happen to me," you pause, tears catching in your throat as you waver in your upset whilst Javier woefully flounders before you for what to say. "I trusted you, and you didn't trust me to be honest with what you were doing, with what your intentions were and what you were willing to do to get the results you wanted—"

"No, dammit, none of that is true! I never intended to do this," he tells you emphatically, and you scoff, furious now as you rush past him to the bedroom, smacking his hands away as he tries to stop you. "—Wait, wait! Please, just listen to me, querida!"

Javi whirls and follows you, quickly becoming disheartened when he sees you retrieve your duffle from the closet and start yanking items from hangers to be tossed in a pile on the bed. "I don't want this! I never meant to hurt you or not think about how this would affect you—"

"THAT'S EXACTLY IT! You didn't THINK about me or how this would affect me!" you scream, vehemently incensed as you rail, "Did you think I would drop everything for you and follow you home?! Abandon my life here and just shack up with you in Laredo until you decide that's not enough for you either?!" Irate now, you level him with, "That I would give up my entire fucking life here – throw away everything I've worked for and leave the only family I have left that matters to me – all because you don't care about your own fucking reputation or career over your immature moral principles about what should happen in a country that's not yours?! How dare you presume to tell me about complicity when you think yourself above all authority enough to discard the people around you in the fallout of your fucking decisions!? You're complicit in forcing an issue that was not yours to mandate! You did your fucking job, but you want to be judge, jury and executioner! It wasn't enough to take down the cartel and take your retribution. Doing your job successfully and coming home in one piece wasn't enough. Oh no, not without you deciding to do everyone else's job, and fuck the consequences—!"

Javier stands there, shoulders slumped, gaze wilted and expression downtrodden as you tear him asunder, and when your voice cracks, you whirl away from him to hide the tears as you squeeze your eyes shut and feel them roll down your cheeks. You resume shoving the items you'd retrieved from the closet into the duffle before fumingly going to the dresser drawer and hefting everything out of it to be unceremoniously thrown in the bag.

"I love you so much…please, I don't want to lose you."

You pause with your back to him after shoving the last of your belongings housed in the bedroom into the duffle. His proclamation was the most upset you've ever heard him, and it hurts your heart, but you find yourself shutting that part of yourself off now.

"Why did you do this. Tell me the truth," is your shaky demand, voice thick with your resoluteness.

He doesn't know the answer. Not the right answer that will keep you there. But he has to try, so he breathes out a tense exhale before blurting, "Because I couldn't live with myself if I let them get away with it."

It hurts. Somewhere within you – that you've walled off now in order to preserve yourself from the devastating fallout, something tender – withers and dies at his answer. Because it's not that simple, and it kills you that he would feel that way. But it also devastates you to know being with you wouldn't be enough for him to hold his head high and know he'd done enough.

"I understand."

The flat, hollow response creates an ache in his chest, propelling him forward. "Querida—"

You hastily shove the duffle flap shut and zip it closed before whirling on him when he's approached you from behind, desperate to pull you into his embrace. But you keep him at bay by swinging the duffle as a buffer between you, and then pivot around him to exit the room.

"Fuck's sake, please stop!" Javier thunders, and you made it to your keys and purse before you halt in your retreat. "I didn't think beyond resigning and sitting down for the interview. I didn't care anymore, because everything that's wrong here isn't just with the cartel or the administration. I've been a part of what's wrong, and I couldn't let it go on. But that doesn't mean I wanted it like this. I never wanted anything else but the life we've talked about – I still do! I just wanted to be worthy of it—"

"You're never going to be satisfied. Whether things change here or not, it was never up to you," you cut in, voice hushed but scalding with your repressed anger. When he doesn't say anything, you wipe at your face and turn to stare at him, and Javi's heart breaks at seeing how bereft you are. "It was Medellín, then Cali, and after it'll be something else – someone else you burden yourself with taking down, no matter what it costs. You still think it's all on you—I see it in your eyes. Even everything you did today, it wasn't enough. Nothing will ever be enough," you pause when your breath stutters and you swallow down what you want to say; what's booming in your head.

I'm not enough for you.

"No matter what, you will never be content, and you'll keep lying and omitting what you really feel, hide the things you believe you need to do. Because you don't want me to know or have a say—"

"I swear, on my life, that's not what I want!" Javi adamantly swears, moving to excise the distance that's suddenly eroded the gravitation between you. "I just wanted it to matter—"

"And I hope it does," you whisper as you mechanically grab your purse and keys from the counter, unable to look at him any longer. "But I can't do this anymore…I've had enough with not being enough."

Javi is decimated, relegated to standing on locked legs as his throat constricts and a devastating pang wreaks through him at your words.

You dazedly work two keys off of your keychain and leave them on the counter before turning to the door, going on autopilot as you exit with your belongings and don't look back.

At the sound of the door clicking shut, Javier's breath stammers raggedly out of him, and before he's realized it, he's sunk down to the floor and propped his back against the wall, taking his head in his hands as he tries to reconcile all the damage he's done.

"You're going to pay a price."

He doesn't know how long he sits there, but when he dejectedly looks up, his apartment is dark, the haze of twilight heavy in the space. It's an even longer time before he snaps back into himself, having gone into a bit of fugue state after his mind walls up his heart, for fear he'll fall apart under the weight of everything tangling around it.

By the time he's had a cigarette and stared out into the void of the bustling traffic of the avenue under a starless night sky from his open bedroom window, Javi hears it.

The self-loathing creeps in like an old friend, ready to tell him all the truths he's chosen to ignore about himself.

It was only a matter of time before she saw it. Everything she said was true. You just couldn't see it for yourself. You never wanted to. Because if you did, you'd know everything was pointless—

The phone in his apartment rings. Javi is so out of it, that it takes him a moment to register it and turn from the open window in his bedroom to lope out into the main room and answer it. When he does, he irrationally hopes it's you, and it weighs like a stone in his chest that quickly drops into his stomach when it's not you.

"Jav, what the hell is going on, man?"

It was Steve. Only Steve. You ruined everything with her, because you don't deserve her—

"—Just what the fuck did you go and do now, Jav?"

His partner did always have a way with words. "Sounds like you already heard."

"Leave it to you to take a big win as a failure of epic proportions…"

They talk for a while, and mercifully it's not until close to the end of the call that Steve asks him.

"What about her? How're you going to make things work?"

"Well…I'm not. It's over," Javi mumbles, hoping saying it himself would lessen the blow, but it doesn't. If anything, it makes him want to crawl inside of the whiskey bottle he's currently overpouring himself a glass of, and never come back out. He gives Steve the cliff-notes of what happened.

The first glass of whiskey goes down like nothing, and when his former partner asks what triggered him to think things between you both were totally FUBAR now, Javi tells him while he pours himself a double to try and take the edge off. The more he drinks though, the more he volunteers, telling him how things came apart at the seams between you earlier, and the loathsome part of him grinds it deep – the feeling of being adrift.

"…Like you said, there's still loose ends. Even if shit hadn't gone down the way they did today, I'd have to be gone, work stateside for a while until all the indictments and cases were in full swing—"

"Javi…listen to me. You fucked up. Royally fucked up here. But you can't just walk away—"

Hackles rising at that, Javi growls, "I didn't walk away. She did, and I can't fucking blame her, and I can't fix it—"

"You let her walk away. You didn't fight for her, didn't give her a reason to believe you wouldn't do this shit again. She's given you chances before, right?" Steve presses, and Javi reluctantly huffs. "C'mon, man. She's worth it, and you're going to hate yourself if you don't try…"

While Javier grapples with his guilt and how to move forward, you're completely drained, lying on your bed with only the lamp on your nightstand on. It's been hours since things had gone sideways without warning. That seemingly everything you'd been working towards in your personal life had dissolved – sifted through your fingers like they'd never truly existed.

Ellis had called you, but aside from telling him you were alright and would see him the next day, it was crystal clear that you didn't want to talk, so he'd let you off the phone, and you'd been thankful.

Now, once you've forced yourself to get up from wallowing to start unpacking your suitcase and duffle, you allow your mind to go blank and concentrate on the mundane task.

It's a while later when you're mechanically finishing with the ironing for all your rumpled work clothes from the duffle bag, and you've just gotten done sorting everything into the closet, that you feel a bout of profound, unsettling emptiness.

A knock at your door startles you out of your vacant daze. Tiredly, you pad on bare feet down the hall, dimly thinking it might be your downstairs neighbor checking in after you'd gone so long without staying at your apartment.

You don't expect to open the door and find Javier standing in the lowlight, eyes red-rimmed and still in his clothes from earlier. The five-o-clock shadow on his jaw and cheeks is darker now, and so are his eyes as he stares at you with plaintiveness from under his brows. Disarmed, you look up at him forlornly.

"Most of what you said? You were right. But you were fucking wrong when you said this isn't enough," Javi is blurting out to you, pressing a hand on the doorframe and the other on the door itself in case you try to slam it shut in his face. When you just stare at him with incomprehension, he insists, "I think you're scared of what this could be, and what happened today is your excuse for breaking things off—"

"…Excuse me?" you hiss, balking up at him. "Are you fucking drunk?"

"No!" Javi snaps and rails, "I don't fucking expect you to give up your life here. I never even asked you to do that! You always say my job isn't me, so why are you fucking pushing me away like this?! I love you, goddammit—"

You are floored by his audacity, and Javier notices too late how your shoulders wind back with fury and you level him with a seething stare. "You have the fucking gall to come over here and put this all on me, again?! Like you always fucking do?!" is your slashing accusation, truly irate now as you shove him back from the threshold of your door and harangue, "The one who is scared here is you, you fucking cabrón! You show up at my door after everything you've put me through? Not just today, but over and over again the entire time I've thrown in with you?!"

Javi's expression sets into a hard mask, but his tone is teeming with suppressed angst as he draws out between clenched jaw, "We can make it work. You're pushing me away before we've even tried—without even trying to give me the benefit of doubt. You automatically decided I'd been lying to you. Didn't even give me a chance to explain—"

Incensed, you excoriate, "Explain?! That you poured your guts out to another woman on the record without a single thought about what would happen or how that would demolish everything we've planned together?!" You're spiraling into a level of rage you've not been at in a very long time, and before you can lose yourself to it, you scoff, hold out your hand, and demand, "Give me back my key, and leave."

That sobers Javier up.

He digs into the left pocket of his gray slacks, retrieves his keychain, and fumbles to remove your apartment door's key from the bunch. "I'm going to keep trying. I'll keep trying, and I'll hold out until you talk to me and give me another chance," is his hushed growl as he plucks the key from the ring. "I'll tie up loose ends on Cali and then we can focus on making this work, and talk about—"

You snatch the key from his fingers and sneer, "There will always be loose ends. Always something else to justify your impulsive, destructive fucking whims, and I've had enough of it. Just pretend I'm a loose end you can skip trying to resolve."

With that, you slam your door shut and lock it.

But you don't pull away from it.

Javier leans distraughtly into the other side of the door, and rests his forehead in drunken frustration against its cool surface while he feebly props his hands on either side of the frame. "I'll prove it to you. You matter to me, querida. I love you, and I'll keep trying to win you back. I'll fix things and earn back your trust. Just don't shut me out…"

Tears are running down your face, and you discard the key to the side table hastily so you can run down the hall and bury your sobs into a pillow.

The liquor is finally hitting Javier enough that he has to force himself to resist the urge to slide down your door and sleep it off. Instead, he trudges down the steps and stalks out of the courtyard into the gusty breeze to get in his SUV and sober up. Once he musters the concentration and sobriety to drive back to his apartment, he sullenly goes upstairs and makes his way to the door before he stumbles up through the cold and dark space.

He finds his way to his room and crawls into bed, forgoing undressing, and passes out face-first on his stomach.

As unconsciousness begins to weigh him down, he sends up a silent plea.

Please don't shut me out of your life forever…

You don't hear from Javier.

In the days after the story breaks, rumors at the embassy are rampant and fierce, but with the political fallout from the exposure of the article, Javier's notoriety is quickly replaced by other headlines that impact relations with the Colombian government. However, it's during this time that you relent, sit down, and read the entire article that put everything into motion.

Seeing that Javier alleged DOS and DOJ were aware of the corruption – that the ambassador had played him a tape given to him by the CIA, documenting the deal Santiago Medina brokered with the Samper presidential campaign and Gilberto Rodríguez? It fills you with cold, sickening dread.

After all, if Crosby knew about the Colombian president being in Cali's pocket and kept playing along – as if something that nefarious didn't justify severing all ties between the U.S. and the Colombian government, what if he'd known everything Stechner had been up to. Could he know Stechner gave my name to the Cali cartel? That they'd snatched me up as an indirect favor to the CIA station chief, in order to try to knock me down a few pegs?

It made you question your convictions. Put everything you'd ever thought about the politics, wielding and dealing at the embassy into a new, discordant perspective.

And if this is how you felt, you can only imagine how torn and betrayed Javi had felt.

Just when you're feeling inundated by your guilt and resentment, Marisol approaches you at the end of the day and waves you over into a secluded corner of your department.

"I didn't want to tell you this…" she prefaces before divulging how over a week prior, on the night Javier's agents had apprehended Miguel Rodríguez, he'd been in his office's bullpen, all alone, just staring at the suspect board. One of the custodians had walked by and seen him and thought it odd. When they'd circled back around a few minutes later, Javier was no longer alone.

The CIA station chief had been talking to him. From what they saw, Javier looked none too happy, and the little the custodian heard and could understand, it sounded like Stechner had patronized Javier, because the seasoned agent had given the balding man a withering look before turning and stalking away from him.

Your heart aches, knowing just how much Javi had wanted to defend your honor and get retribution against the man for everything he'd done, and the fact he'd come to kick Javi while he was down? And that at his lowest, Javi didn't take the bait, and walked away from the bastard?

You thank Marisol for telling you, and before you can muster the composure to keep your tears at bay, she leans in for a hug, squeezes you tight, and whispers in your ear, "Go get your guapo descarado."

It was the encouragement you didn't know you were longing for.

You get your purse and rush out of the embassy, driving over to Javier's and yearning to undo everything that you allowed to untether you both apart. The traffic is heavy, so in your impatience, you opt to park on the street across from his building, dash over to it and down the parking garage ramp to head up to his apartment's floor. You sprint down the hall and feel your pulse racing as you get to the door and knock on it.

There's no answer.

You knock again, and again, trepidation growing in you, so you knock once more and call out, "Javi, it's me," then strain to hear through the door.

"Excuse me, señorita," a voice calls down from the apartment on the opposite end of the hall. You blink over and see a man dressed like he'd just come home from the office, peeking from his open apartment door at you. "The man in that apartment moved out."

Your senses dull over at hearing that, mind straining incredulity. "…When?" you find yourself asking.

"A few days ago. They've already posted it up as available for lease," he retorts, looking curiously at you.

At your vacant nod, he frowns and goes back into his apartment, leaving you alone in the chilly hallway.

Wavering, you lean back into the door and bury your face in your hands, stifling a sob as you realize what you've done.

You've pushed Javi away, and he's left.

You're all alone, and it's your fault.

You never got to tell him that he was enough.

________________

Read Chapter 38: Enough

Spanish-English Glossary:

Tan celoso = [You're] so jealous

Querida/querido = Affectionate term, akin to expressing one's want and desire

Preciosa = Gorgeous; precious

Chulo/Chulito = Cute guy; little cutie

Mandona = Bossy lady

Chavón = a man that's pestering you

Canela = Cinnamon

Don Celos = Mr. Jealous; a "Don" is used as a title of respect for a man with a high reputation, so she means it like a "sir", so aka "Sir Jealous"

Atrevido/Atrevida = Daring man/Daring woman

Pantaleta = Panties; undies; skivvies

La Virgen Santa = The Virgin Mary; The Virgin Mother

Cariño = Darling/sweetheart

Jodón = pain in the ass [male]

Corazón = Heart; pet name to signify how deeply you love someone

Mi patrón = My master/boss

Tan chingona y coqueta = Such a badass, flirty lady

Hermosa/hermoso = beautiful (female); beautiful (male)

Malcriada/malcriado = Brat/spoiled

Mi amor = My love

Tan brava = So feisty; So tough; refers to a "tough girl" 

Eres mía, tiernita = You're mine, my tender little girl

Guapito = affectionate way of calling a man handsome (in the diminutive term)

Dulzón = Sweetheart [male]

Buena suerte, agente = Good luck, agent

Batita = Nightgown

Te amo con toda mi alma = I love you with all my soul

Reportera = Reporter [female]

Cabrón = Asshole

Guapo descarado = Handsome cad

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