We gotta fly over the fuckin' Andes, man!!

30...something Writer/Poet/Animal rights activist Lover of coffee, chai, & Pedro Pascal. Married to Frankie Morales in my mind.

[midnights-temptation]

Of Gilded Cages and Beskar Walls

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Rating: 18+ for future smut

ao3

Summary: You are Queen Kylantha's oldest daughter and, as such, first in line to the throne on Naboo. While you spend your days dreaming of true love and romance, you are suffocatingly forced to play the political games of your mother, who is determined to marry you off to whichever suitor is the ideal option for her own hopes and dreams for the future of your people.

But when you have finally had enough and you reject one Silas Vane, his desire for revenge over the perceived humiliation leads him to place a secretive bounty—one that brings a formidable Mandalorian right into your path.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading, reblogging, commenting, and liking! I am deeply thankful for every one of you!

Chapter One: The refusal of a most dreadful proposition

The event hall in The Royal Palace of Theed comes to life at dusk as it fills in with many guests—mostly royal, along with some commoners—much to your chagrin.

The lights are far too bright, reflecting off the slick marble floor, and soon the room becomes incredibly hot despite the chill blending in the air outside and flowing through the open windows.

The band begins to play, mostly a mix of string instruments, but one member plays a bit too jubilantly and the Siren's Soul leaves your ears painfully ringing as you walk by. Soon the constant, low hum of chatter, boisterous laughter, and glasses clinking together join in the sea of stimuli that feels unbearable to every single sense that you possess.

“I absolutely loathe these parties,” you say with a heavy sigh, pulling out a chair at the corner table furthest in the back of the room next to your younger sister, dropping into your seat.

Mother would be so disappointed to hear you say that,” Sira replies with a high, lilted giggle, far removed from her usual cadence. It is the same voice she always uses during these insufferable events you are forced to sit through as a member of The Royal House of Naboo, and more importantly, as the oldest daughter of Queen Kylantha. They are marketed to the public in a palatable way, as dances generously hosted by the monarchy, but in reality? They are a transparent ploy to marry you off.

“Of course she would,” you say quietly as you smooth down the thick, ruffled fabric of your cobalt dress, one made of the highest quality silk the Mid Rim has to offer. It must have cost a fortune most could never even fathom, yet it leaves you tugging at the long, flowing sleeves with quiet disdain.

“You best prepare yourself,” Sira warns, her voice dropping a fraction in volume as her hazel eyes dance across the crowded room before settling back onto you. “She has a new cohort of suitors lined up tonight.”

“Kriff,” you mutter under your breath as you pick up the curved wine glass resting on the pristine white tablecloth in front of you. Your fingers wrap roughly around the stem as you take a generous sip of the sweet crystal linflower liquor inside and let your posture drop slightly.

“Language, sister!” she gasps playfully, and you roll your eyes as you take another sip of liquor. “You know our mother is getting more..desperate…for you to settle down and marry.”

“Of course she is,” you groan, the utter contempt dripping from your voice. “Obviously marriage is currently at the top of my priority list in life.”

“It should be,” Sira shakes her head in disapproval with a slight tsk of her tongue. “You need to carry on our family line, after all."

“I think you are more than capable of that,” you retort with a wave of dismissal.

“You’re the oldest, remember? That duty falls to you first, like it or not.”

“I don’t like it,” you sigh, propping one arm on the table and resting your chin on your open palm in defiant disinterest.

“No elbows on the table!” She teases, and you shoot her a glare that gives her a fit of giggles she attempts to hide behind her delicate hand. After clearing her throat and straightening herself upright, she continues the same conversation you’ve had on so many occasions before. “Why are you so adamant against marriage?”

“I’m not,” you insist as you take another drink of liquor, the bubbles dancing vibrantly on the back of your tongue.

“You seem to be,” she counters, tucking a fallen ringlet of sandy hair behind her ear. “You hate meeting marriage candidates at these parties.”

“Mm-hmm,” you nod, pursing your lips together. “That’s precisely the issue.”

"Meaning…?”

“Marriage should not be some…transaction or political deal,” you state simply, your words on this matter nearly done to death at this point yet they seem to fall on deaf ears.

Sira lets out a giggle mixed with a scoff. “Oh, sister, don’t be so dramatic!”

“Dramatic? Marriage should be about love, don’t you think?”

“I think you’re far too idealistic,” she retorts with a sharp tut in disapproval.

“And you are too pragmatic,” you immediately fire back with a slight frown.

“Marrying to secure your future, the future of our people, and to ensure our royal line continues is all that truly matters. It is a transaction, whether you agree with it or not. You’ve read far too many of those…romance novels,” Sira’s tone drips with condescending amusement. “They have put all of these silly ideas in your head.”

“You think it’s silly to want to marry for love? You act as if romance is some ridiculous concept.” You think of how many times you have had this conversation, and how many more times you will be forced to endure it, exasperation and exhaustion settling deep into your bones.

“Because it is. You were enchanted by the fairy tales of love we were read when we were children. But life is not a fairytale, sister, and we’ve grown up.” Her cynicism weeps from her tone and you find yourself wondering if she truly believes her practiced words or if they are a bitter lie poisoning her mouth.

“Oh, don’t look now,” she whispers, leaning over to you until her shoulder gently bumps yours. “But here comes one of your potential suitors.” She gives a subtle tilt of her head to the left in the direction of the double doors at the entrance.

You glance behind you and see a tall, imposing man dressed impeccably in a charcoal gray tunic with a crisp high collar and matching trousers, clearly tailored to perfectly fit his form without a single wrinkle in sight. He stands with one arm draped tightly over his waist, his striking pale blue eyes scanning over the room. His chestnut hair, with faint silver streaks at the temples, is neatly slicked back without a single strand out of place. His fair complexion makes it clear that being outdoors is not something he takes interest in; his sharp, chiseled jawline and high cheekbones make him look more like a work of art than an actual human being.

“And who is that…?” you ask, fully turning around and resting your arm on the back of your chair as you look at him with disinterest.

“Surely you are not serious?!” she hisses through gritted teeth as she grabs your arm and turns you back to the table. “It’s Silas Vane!”

You raise one eyebrow with an unknowing shrug of your shoulders. She lets out an incredulous laugh.

“Baron Vane…?? From Kuat?!”

“Oh,” you say with a casual hum. “Him.”

“Yes, him!” she whispers, her gaze tracking his movements. “And he is coming this way!”

The words barely touch the air before Silas Vane’s shadow looms over you. You turn your head up to look at him and find him smiling down at you- not a kind and polite smile, but one entirely devoid of any emotion and clearly put on for show.

“Ah, just who I was looking for,” he delivers in a measured baritone voice that sounds strangely out of place coming from his tight-lipped mouth. He sits presumptuously next to you. “Your mother warned me you’d likely be hiding in the back."

"I am merely enjoying the breeze filtering in through the windows on this lively evening, Baron Vane,” you respond in a voice born from silk but steeped in a distinctive chill. “It is a bit stifling in here, don’t you think?” You take a slow sip of the crystal linflower liquor and place the flute onto the table with a soft thud.

“High society business is suffocating at times,” he lets out a humorless chuckle. “To others, Princess, I am Baron Vane, but as my future wife you may call me Silas. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“And I, yours, Silas,” you muster up what little bit of politeness you can and the corner of your lips turn up ever so slightly into a hint of a painted smile. “But is that not presumptuous of you to assume?”

“The future of our respective houses depends on it,” he leans in closer, his gaze soulless and empty. “Your mother and I have discussed this at length. You are aware of the instability in the galaxy at this present time, I’m sure. Outer Rim syndicates are on the rise, but the Mid Rim is far from immune. The Pykes are pushing their spice routes further into the Mid Rim territories, and Black Sun is growing stronger by the day. Naboo is a jewel, Princess, but, alas…a fragile one. One that is not exactly prepared for a war, especially if these syndicates start a blockade against your trade routes. If that occurs, your people will suffer and die.

Kuat's shipyards are well-known as the top military manufacturer in the galaxy for a reason. We can secure an exclusive defense contract to provide military-grade arsenal and protection without Naboo having to compromise on their pacifism.”

You sit up straight, your posture suddenly rigid. “And what exactly would you receive in return with this….proposition?”

“You, Princess, have quite the reputation. Rejecting suitor after suitor has made you a very desirable acquisition. Joining the Royal House of Naboo is the ultimate status symbol of galactic prestige,” Baron Vane leans in closer to you, his voice dropping an octave. “Our union can also give House Vane political influence far beyond the Core Worlds.”

“Mmhm,” you hum, tilting your head to one side. “When you put it that way, it is the perfect deal. Why would we not move forward with this transaction?” The sarcasm drips readily from your tone yet he remains oblivious.

“Precisely!” Baron Vane gives you a smug smile, and you turn your nose up in pure disgust.

“Pardon me, Silas…but sarcasm does not seem to be in your vocabulary. I need you to understand that marriage to me is not a transaction. I am not a commodity to be bartered with for your political desires, and I fully believe we can protect our people without your heavy militarized presence here. Marriage should be for love. And love could clearly never bloom in this space between us.”

The performative mask slips for a terrifying moment before Baron Vane violently puts it back in place as he lets out a flitting chuckle. “I urge you to think this deal through, Princess. And to dispel any preconceived notions you currently hold regarding marriage.”

“I will do no such thing, Baron Vane, and I must decline your offer,” you stare at him in open defiance, making sure to be crystal clear in your declination.

“As you wish, Princess,” he says slowly and methodically in equal measure as he stands up. “It is a shame, though, that your childish naivety will be the ultimate downfall of your people. And when that day comes? You will regret turning this prospect down.”

With that, he turns and walks out the doors. You watch him go with a unbelieving scoff.

“I cannot believe you said that,” Sira hisses, her eyes wide in shock as she leans in closer to you. “Mother will be furious. She was very much betting on Baron Vane. And he was a smart match, after all.”

“Let her be angry,” you stand up, unwilling to stay any longer. “I am not compromising on this.” You walk out of the event hall, ignoring the glare from your mother as she sits on her throne, digging her fingers into the edges of the rounded armrests.

Silas Vane retains his painted smile as he walks back out of the event hall. Once the heavy doors shut with a hiss behind him, immediately cutting off the music and all of the conversational noise, he walks with a heavier stride. To anyone passing by, he would seem perfectly composed. On the inside? His blood is boiling with an anger he keeps just underneath the surface until he is alone.

Once he reaches his ship and boards, the act is immediately dropped. With a sharp, violent twist of his fingers, he unbuttons the top of his collar. His brows knit tightly together and his lips curl into a tight, unsightly snarl. A muscle twitches violently in his jaw and his cold eyes instantly cloud with a quiet, calculating rage.

“She thinks she can reject me and humiliate me,” he murmurs to himself, sitting at the sterile cockpit as his slender fingers move with a cold and calculating precision across the comm unit’s console. “I shall make her pay.”

His revenge would need to be silent, one that goes under the radar, completely unbeknownst amongst the political and social circles in the Mid Rim. He bypasses the standard network to access a deeply encrypted channel on the comm line—The Bounty Hunter’s Guild. Not the usual channel, but one for secretive bounties that don’t follow the typical protocol. With a camtono of beskar being offered up as a reward, no questions will be asked.

Silas hesitates for a moment. It’s imperative that it isn’t obvious that the target—you— is Naboo royalty. Keeping the chain code to the last four digits to keep it as vague as possible to avoid rousing suspicion, he enters the information with an urgency, a sick smile spreading across his face.

“Have you gone completely, utterly mad?!” Your mother shouts at you, pacing back and forth across the polished marble floor of the palace’s sitting room, her hands clasped tightly behind her back.

"I would argue I am the only one with any sense here,” you retort, leaning your hip against the window sill situated on the other side of the room.

Your mother suddenly stops dead in her tracks, turning around on her heel as her eyes bore like fire into yours.

“You’ve done it now,” Sira whispers melodically, a bemused grin plastered on her face as she lounges back on the plush couch to watch yet another dramatic fight unfold between you and your mother.

“Why must you fight me on everything?!?” Your mother’s voice drops to a dangerously low warning, one lower than you have ever heard in your entire life, and you fight to relax the muscles around your eyes that threaten to wince.

“And why must you refuse to understand I’m not marrying someone I do not love??” You stand your ground, refusing to back down as you match your mother’s glare with your own.

“This again??” She lets out a condescending scoff mingled with a laugh, shaking her head. “This is real life; it is serious. Not to mention vitally important for the future of our people. You can’t keep living with your head up in Cloud City, like this is some fairy tale with a happily ever after.”

“I keep telling you I will not compromise on this!” You insist, and as a result she takes a few steps closer to you, anger contorting her features to a point that’s almost unrecognizable.

“And I keep telling you that you don’t have a choice,” she says in admonishment, as if you are a child to scold once more. “I am going to reach out to Baron Vane, beg him for forgiveness, and see if I can convince him to give you another chance.”

“Another chance?? Mother, I refuse! I will never marry that man!”

“Yes, you will!” She all but bellows, causing you to instinctively pull away as you look at her in bewilderment. “You are a princess, the next in line for the throne, and I will not allow you to be so selfish, choosing your stupid and pathetic romantic ideals over the safety of our people!”

Across the room, on the plush couch, Sira sits completely upright, her hands resting in her lap as she lowers her head to look at the floor.

Without another word, you move past her and storm out of the sitting room.

“Mando!” Greef Karga says with a beaming smile, looking up from his table at the lively cantina to greet the formidable bounty hunter as he walks through the doors.

All eyes turn to face The Mandalorian as he walks in; an imposing figure who inspires fear, curiosity—and for a few foolish individuals—greed and desire for the hefty price of the shiny beskar armor that covers his broad frame. The casual, easy-going conversations dim into quiet whisper and murmurs and the music comes to a complete halt.

The Mandalorian sits down at the table across from Karga, placing his pulse rifle on the table. He leans his back against the booth, spine rigid, and is silent for a few moments before finally speaking.

“I need my next job,” he says, his voice deep and mechanical as it emerges through the helmet’s vocoder. The cantina's usual vibrant noise resumes with loud chatter, clinking of glasses, and the band starting up their next song.

“Well, I have a few bail jumpers, some smugglers...” Karga begins as he goes through his bounty pucks, setting them out on the table. Mando suddenly reaches out, placing a gloved hand over them.

“I’m looking for something more….challenging,” he rasps.

Karga raises an eyebrow, sighing as he leans back and rests an arm on the back of the booth.

“Challenging, huh?” He repeats, almost amused, before he takes a quick glance around. “Well, a bounty came through in the encrypted line earlier, with a hefty payment of more beskar than you have ever seen in your life.”

The Mandalorian tilts his head slightly as he studies Karga through the t-visor of his helmet. “Let me see the puck.”

Karga shakes his head. “No puck. All I was given was the last four digits of the chain code, along with the tracking fob.”

“Why?” Mando asks, his curiosity piqued.

“I can’t tell you that,” Karga shrugs, setting the tracking fob down. “No questions asked. You know the rules. The client said it was of the utmost importance for this bounty to be delivered as soon as possible.”

Mando snatches the tracking fob off the table. “Fine. I'll take it.”

“Wonderful!” Karga picks up the bounty pucks and tucks them away in his pocket. “I know you can do it. I look forward to your return and subsequent victory!”

The Mandalorian gives a grunt in response as he stands up from the table, slinging his rifle over his shoulder, as he leaves the cantina for his next hunt.

The cool night air caresses your face as you make your way through the lower gardens, letting out a sigh of relief as you are finally alone at a secluded alcove. All of the stress and anger immediately dissipates, replaced with the soothing sounds of nature as she rests—the faint chirping of insects, the soft croaking of frogs, and the babbling brook whispering to the stones while passing by. You kick off your oppressive heels and walk through the grass as it tickles the soles of your feet with every step, and wrap the black cloak fully around your frame.

You sit on a smooth rock by the base of the roaring waterfall, the cool mist raining over your skin as it rises from the water’s surface. You dip your toes into the rushing water of Solleu River, watching the way it flows and bubbles across your toes.

You huff to yourself, leaning back and resting your palms on the damp, soft moss of the earth behind you while looking up at the starry night sky—you swear that tonight is the clearest night you have seen in years, with each star glittering as bright as Corusca gems. It is breathtaking sight, full of the romantic desire that lives deep within your heart, and the sight that makes you feel even angrier at your mother for the hateful words she had just spat at you.

“A transactional marriage…” you mutter to yourself, looking down at a frog that hops onto the grass beside the stone you’re sitting on. “Can you believe that? And I am stupid and foolish for wanting to love and be loved?”

The frog lets out a small croak in response before jumping into the river, leaving a wave of ripples in the water.

"I don’t blame you. I’d leave, too...if I could.” You whisper, pulling your feet out of the water and standing up. With a deep sigh of resignation, you prepare to go back inside and face more of your mother’s wrath…until you feel a cold chill run up your spine, a sudden realization washing over you.

You aren’t alone.

There is the faint sound of a twig snapping behind you and you quickly turn around, your eyes rapidly scanning your surroundings for the source of the intrusion.

“W….who’s there?? Show yourself!” You bark out with a slight tremble of fear hidden underneath the words you speak.

You see nothing and hear nothing else, and let out a small chuckle at yourself for the silly paranoia.

As you begin to make the walk back to the palace, bending down to grab your heels as you walk, you freeze at the sudden sound of beeping coming from right behind you.

Beep.

Beep.

You pick up your pace, walking faster now as you abandon your heels in the grass and begin a full sprint, turning around and searching for what…or who…is following you. To your horror, the beeping comes faster and faster, and you don’t get far before you are cornered.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The sudden weight of a presence right behind you stops you dead in your tracks. You slowly turn around, your eyes widening and your lips parting in silent shock as The Mandalorian stands towering over you.

Pale streaks of moonlight reflect off the sharp angles of the beskar armor, gleaming with a harsh sterility. He tilts his head down to face you, and even through the helmet, you can feel the burn of the predatory gaze hidden underneath. You glance down at the tracking fob clutched in his gloved hand—its bright red light pulsating rhythmically, casting an eerie glow against your cloak. Your eyes travel upward again, meeting your own distorted reflection of fear in the cold, polished T-visor of his helmet as he clips the device back onto his belt.​

A bounty hunter. You are currently caged in by a bounty hunter. Your pulse spikes so rapidly that you wonder if he can see your heartbeat thrumming in your throat.

“W…Who are you…?” You manage to ask in a trembling voice far removed your normal poise. The question is so quiet that it is nearly carried away on a sudden breeze from the heavy rush of the nearby waterfall.

“I can bring you in warm…” The Mandalorian's voice filters deep and gravelly through his modulator, entirely devoid of any semblance of humanity from the man hidden underneath the armor. Slowly and deliberately, his large hand shifts downward, the creaking leather of his glove coming to rest against the grip of the blaster holstered at his hip. “Or I can bring you in cold.”

[whannahbeyourss]

Doomsday concept poster 💙

[midnights-temptation]

I stopped breathing for a moment....

[midnights-temptation]

Feral for Frankie Friday™

Get in, we are thirsting over Frankie Morales today.

[nothingspecialjustasoul]

I miss the version of life that felt softer before I learned how temporary things are.

[kiyosuku]

Avengers Doomsday Official Trailer | Fantastic Four

[midnights-temptation]

Oh, God....

[pedrospascaled]

THE LAST OF US S01E02 - Infected

[midnights-temptation]

Sometimes I find myself wondering if people at Netflix are deeply concerned over my mental state in regards to how many times I have watched and continue to watch Triple Frontier.

[vodkaandpizza]

Yeah I get that, me personally i worry about them seeing me watch that ten seconds of that one narcos episode, over and over and over...

You know, for research...

[midnights-temptation]

So much research is needed when it comes to that scene. His hands, Jesus.... 🥵

And season 1, episode 2, of course.

[userjoel]

JAVI GUTIERREZ outfit appreciation in    ㄴ  the unbearable weight of massive talent (2022)

[midnights-temptation]

Sometimes I find myself wondering if people at Netflix are deeply concerned over my mental state in regards to how many times I have watched and continue to watch Triple Frontier.

[perotovar]

PEDRO PASCAL as FRANCISCO "Catfish" MORALES Triple Frontier (2019) dir. JC Chandor

[angeldevil11]

[two-bees-poetry]

so soft it hurts

[inkcobwebs]

i am not meant for casual i was born for soul crushing devotion

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧˚

[nixscriptum]

[vodkaandpizza]

Black Coffee Morning

Chapter 31 of The Devil's Pilot

See Masterlist : See AO3 : See Prequel Fic - The Ghosts of Bogota (With Javier Peña)

See Prologue : Previous Chapter : Next chapter

Chapter Summary: Esie meets with General Trujillo in Bogotá while Javier and Frankie work together on the ranch.

See masterlist for fic warnings, but if you've made it here i think you know whats up by now.

Comment welcome and encouraged. 🥰

Black Coffee Moring

Bogotá Columbia 2017

As she stepped into the large lobby of the National Capital of Columbia, she wondered how many times Javier had walked through the doors of the big federal building. She knew the number wouldn’t be small.

The man who greeted her wasn’t an imposing figure, but she knew he’d worked with Javier a long time, and hadn’t given up his fight for his country yet. “General Trujillo,” She said as she extended a hand to greet him, “I’m surprised you’re handling this personally, imagine this is well below your pay grade.” She told him in Spanish. Hers was rustier than she’d have liked. Her mother had wanted them to blend in when they’d first moved to Texas, so she spent a lot of Esie’s youth practicing English at home rather than her native tongue. It was only later, when Javier returned that both languages became common in their household again.   

“Well Senorita Peña, I like to keep my sources confidential, and if this ends up being as big of a get as I’m hoping, your security does need to be a concern. The less people who know the better.”

“I understand.”

“But, if I’m honest, I was curious too. Your reputation proceeds you. Not just as a journalist, which is very impressive work. Truth be told I’ve been hearing about you for years, it sounds like you keep my old friend on his toes.” A rare mischievous smile crept over Trujillo’s face.  “Which is a good thing.”

“Thank-you… I think. That said, I must admit, my DNA does come with a condition. I want to know, at least what you can tell me, about my birth father’s case.”

“I didn’t expect much less, is this off the record?”

“Yes, off the record. I’m retired now anyway.”

Trujillo laughed, “I know better than to trust a Peña’s ‘retirement’. Follow me, I’ll walk you through what I can in my office.”

Esie didn’t sit in the chair in his office right away. It was large, befitting of a man the General’s rank. There were a few photos, him in his dress uniform, him with politicians, a couple with a woman and two children, his family she assumed, but one stood out. It was a bunch of much younger men on a terracotta roof top, one stood out a blond man, and another stood out because he was lying there dead. A younger version of Trujillo crouched triumphantly over the body.

“I recognize this…” Esie said as she inspected the photo.

“It’s a bit gruesome, I know, but that was one of the best days of my life. I only wish your father… Javier I mean, could had been there to see it. He deserved to be. Escobar hurt many people we cared about.” The man’s eye looked far away for a moment, lost in memory before he seemed to shake it off, meeting her eyes again.

“Well, I think you’ll find if you ask him now that he’s of the opinion, he shouldn’t have been here at all.”

Surprise crossed the man’s face, “That doesn’t sound like the Javier Peña I knew.”

“I think it may have more to do with wishing he spent more years with my mother.” Esie said tactfully, no wanting to disparage the man’s recollection of Javier.

Trujillo nodded, accepting that rational, “That makes sense, it was obvious that cared very deeply for her.”

That surprised Esie, “you knew her too?”

“…no…ummm… I never did meet her,” Trujillo said cautiously unsure of what their daughter knew of Javier and Ana’s past, “But I knew of her, and he never care about any of.. anyone else, like he did, her. Clearly.”

“But you knew Uncle Steve.” She said, more so to lead him back to the case at hand.

“Yes, I did, though his Spanish was atrocious. When he did finally figure out how to speak it.” Trujillo said cracking a smile at the memory of the blonde agent stumbling over his words even after ten years in the country.

“I see Javi didn’t exaggerate that.”

“No, he didn’t. Now have a seat.” He said pulling a few filed from a locked drawer, “I’ll show you what we’re looking at.”

Laredo, Texas. 2017

Frankie, a quiet man by nature, had come to love the early morning at the Ranch. He rose, even before Chucho, who had since appointed himself the roll of breakfast man, all too happy to pass the torch of the early morning feed to a man with much younger joints. Even the animals were quiet at 430 am, before the feed hit their bowls of the sun cracked the sky.

Which was why, when Frankie walked into the barn that morning, he was more than just surprised to see the man there, with his dark assessing eyes, clearly waiting for him. “Good morning.” Javier said, in a tone that was perhaps more surprising than his very presence there, it was almost … pleasant? “Do you put a bunch garbage in your coffee, syrup and all that shit to hide the flavour.”

Frankie was not yet awake enough for whatever the hell this was, stumbled to find a suitable answer, “Umm no.” Sometimes, when he was in town with Esie he’d get one of the fancier things she sometimes liked to order, but Frankie would keel over right then and there before tell that to her strange coffee obsessed old man.

“So you take it black?”

“Yes,”

“Good,” He held out the coffee mug in his hand to Frankie. “This is for you, it’s medium roast, I picked the one with the broadest range of appeal, we can narrow down you r roast preferers later.”

“Okay.” Frankie said cautiously,  as he took the mug from the man. Javier stared at him until he took a sip, “It’s good?” Frankie told him, it actually was, he assumed it came from the machine in Javier’s suite. The ranch kitchen still had drip coffee in it, since Chucho didn’t, “like to fuck around with all that fancy shit.” with his morning cup of joe.

“Follow me.” Javier led him into the barn office. He pulled out then flipped over his cork board, revealing the other side had a bunch of things tacked to it. Frankie said a slightest prayer of gratitude that the older man hadn’t taken down all of his schedules and notes on the other side for whatever the fuck this was.

“Since it seem you’ll be sticking around.” Javier said as though he’d just discovered this fact the day before. “And Chucho mentioned you have some ideas about the cattle; I figured I’d brief you on the big picture of the future of this place. Which, since we’re a cow to calf operation, has less to do with cattle and more to do with horses.” Frankie winced at what he was sure was a back handed criticism.

“We can’t get rid of the long horns for some fucking reason and the wagyu are still a profitable niche. But if you haven’t noticed, these days, when people talk about this place they talk about the horses. And ours are some of the best. But if you want to expand this place, we’re going to need another barn, more pens, and more hands, ones who know how to fucking ride preferably. The good news is we got more fucking 20-year-old Peñas then we know what to do with. The bad news is most of ‘em fuck off after college.”

“You want to hire more staff?”

“Not yet,” he said pinning a blueprint and an areal photo of the main barn area of the ranch. “We gotta put the infrastructure in place first.” He tapped the map of the ranch. “If you were going to put a 40-stall barn here, an indoor and outdoor area and three more turn out paddocks, where would you put them?”

“I…you want my opinion?”

“You’re the fucking ranch manager, aren’t you? You’re a little slow in the morning huh? You have that in common with your girlfriend, though she’s grouchy and she makes up for it the rest of that day.” If he wasn’t so shocked he would have realized that was the first time Javier had ever blatantly acknowledge his relationship with Esie. Before that morning, Javier had always approached Frankie like staff, or a guest who had appeared without any forewarning. Frankie wondered briefly if Esie had said anything to the man, though he supposed, that Esie was probably preoccupied with going to Columbia. He knew his lady, well, but he didn’t understand her relationship with the man who stood in as her father. Frankie figured it was more likely that the man was actually looking for his insight. A surprising show of respect from the grumpy old man, but Frankie was going to take what he could get. So he walked up to the map and explained what he thought might work.

That same morning, though slightly later in the day, Trujillo sat with Esie in his office looking over a case file with her, “Five years ago, a drug lord by the name of Gabriel Martin Lorea was raided robbed and burned. It was a professional job, we assume by one of the other cartels in the region.” Trujillo told her as he handed her a file. When she opened it there were pictures of half burnt corpses, cash and furnishings. “No one but a rival gang would have the balls, weaponry and skill level to pull something like this off. For a while we even considered it could have even been hired mercenaries. We got lucky, it rained heavily after they set fire to the compound, even for the rainforest and the walls were packed so tight with cash, it didn’t burn. When paper is stacked so thick and tightly it actually needs a lot of heat to burn.”

“Like books.”

“Exactly. What was interesting was the night before, intelligence suggested that Lorea held a meeting with a few of the other Don’s in the region. Not entirely strange, we believe he was their bank of sorts, a lot more than his own funds were stored in that house. We think one of them cased the joint during the meeting and sent some men the next day, while Lorea’s guards and family were at church.”

“And judging by Vega - the alias I believe your would-be relative now goes by - was the one to do it. That’s just a theory since he seems to have risen to a Don of Don’s status in the region. There are only a few cartel operations out of the jungle that don’t seem to have affiliation to him now.”

“Well, at least he is good at something.” Esie joked, which pulled an amused look from Trujillo before he handed her a few surveillance footage pictures.

“We also pulled what we could from the camera’s. we didn’t get much from the robbers, they shot out the security footage. But, we got some arriving the night before. Most didn’t have their faces to the camera, and there was nothing in the room that they met in but we were able to lift prints from there. That’s where you come in…”

Esie focused in on the gun the robber held, in the photo you could only see the gun and his hand and the edge of a night vison goggle, an imagine likely taken moments before the camera was shot out. “Not to tell you how to do your job but can I ask; did you try to trace these weapons or the gear they had in the photos?”

“I don’t mind, but they took the weapons with them, and they are common enough here, it would be nearly impossible to trace something like that.”

“Nearly impossible, yes. And depending on when they were acquired perhaps entirely impossible. But they were raiding this place with precision, right? They must have gone in with serious skill and firepower to do that. If it was mercenaries, they’d need to acquire all that in country. Or at least at a boarder crossing location.”

“Senorita Peña, I admire your eye, but we don’t really have the resources to spend on something like that, a drug lord taking out another drug lord deep in the amazon isn’t really a crime we get a lot of interest in solving here.”

“No, I imagine so, but I did a story about five years ago in Peru… I worked with some local guys, they helped me track every single weapon coming and going out of Peru, Argentina, Columbia, and Brazil. It was right around the time this happened. Funnily enough. I know it’s a long shot, but I imagine you took ballistics on the bullets. Plus, anything else you have on the attackers. We could draw on those old resources.”

“I see that you are as good as they say. I remember  the article you wrote, about CIA involvement in smuggling weapons to drug dealer and militias alike.”

“My adopted country does seem to love destabilizing this area, fuck I wouldn’t be surprised if this thing was a covert operation buy was too.” Esie said with a sigh od disapproval.

“You took down their CIA head here, Javier called me to brag that a Peña finally got rid of the Schechner asshole, a thorn in all our sides. And you won your Pulitzer for it too. He was very proud that day for your old man.”

“One of my Pulitzers. I promise if you let me pull this thread, if there’s anything to be found I’ll find it.”

Trujillo debated for a moment, “These sources, they are dangerous?”

“Not to me.”

“You can be covert about this, I imagine?”

“Sir I never give up my sources, I have a code when it comes to that sort of thing.”

Amusement danced in the general’s eyes at that, but they seemed to land on a decision nonetheless, “Okay, I’ll get you a list of what they believed they had, don’t do anything stupid, just inquires. Bring what you find back to me directly, Do Not mention the names Vega and Lorea to anyone. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Esie said standing up to shake the man’s hand, now that she had the answer she wanted, she was eager to leave before he thought better of it.  “Thank-you general.”

She was back at her hotel room when she did her required calls that evening.

“Hey pops, Trujillo says hi. He seems nice. And  you’ll be happy to hear he even gave me a bodyguard while I’m in Bogotá. You’ll be less happy to hear that I think I can help him with his case.”

“What?” Javier said, as though he was actually surprised. He wasn’t, he knew his daughter too well for that.

“Just information, some of my old contacts from the Peru story might be useful.”

“Alright kid, so long as it stays just information. I’m glad Trujillo’s keeping up his end of the bargain.”

“Bargain? Never mind I don’t want to know. Anyway, I gotta get going…”

“Wait, one more thing, did you call me or your boyfriend first?”

Esie rolled her eyes, “Careful or I’ll tell mama you’re projecting your competitive feelings about me discovering my birth father onto my boyfriend.”

“I’m just kidding, mija. I was nice to him today. I even made him one of my Americanos. And he actually had some worthwhile suggestions about the new barn plans. So at least he isn’t an idiot.”

“High praise.” Esie said dryly, but she was smiling imagining Frankie’s face trying to comprehend the grumpy mustached man shoving a diligently made americano into his hand before dawn.

“I’m joking, no one has a sense of humour these days… anyway I’ll let you go, I’m sure that boy is just sitting there in that cabin staring at his phone screen waiting for you to call, like a lovesick puppy.”

“You didn’t even wait the standard 48 hours the first time you called mama from the ranch, remember, I had to play it cool for you both.”     She said, as though she’d ever played anything cool successfully in her entire life.

“You didn’t play it cool, you forgot to pass on my message!”

“Same thing, okay love you, bye!”

Next, she called Frankie, filling him in on her meeting with Trujillo and some details she’d left out of Javier’s summary, she recounted everything that had happened since her arrival in Bogotá, speaking even faster than normal in her excitement from the day, “…and I saw a picture of my bio father, they think he goes by the name Vega now, he was tall, it was black and white, an old mugshot… no freckles though, which was weirdly a relief. I like my freckles and I don’t want to have to share that with that asshole. I know that sounds silly…”

“It doesn’t,” Frankie understood that all too well, “I hate that I share my dad’s name.” And a few other things he didn’t feel like bringing up at that moment.  “At least all you seem to have in common so far is ‘tall’.”

“Well, you improved greatly on the name honey. Trust me…” She said supportively before launching back into her monolog about the day, “He sounds like he might actually be smart too. You know, in an evil way so maybe my deviousness come from him.”

“No, you get your brains from your mother, I think maybe your sense of humour too, though she is a little more…ah, subtle.”

“Wow Frankie are you into my mama?” She teased, “That’s not going to help your relationship with Javi.”

“No, though I am hoping you age like her.”

“I’m going to tell her you said that.”

“Please don’t.”

“I’m just kidding. I heard you just made it into the coffee club, wouldn’t want to ruin that for you… by the way how’s that going?”

“No, you need to finish telling me everything about the visit.”

“I can’t tell you everything, its confidential.”

“Well, tell me everything you can then.”  So, she told him about Trujillo and the photo and Javier being obsessed with her mother even back then.

“That doesn’t surprise me.” Frankie said.

 Her next question hit him out of nowhere, though he supposed it should have been expected, “Frankie have you ever been to Columbia?”

“Uhh, only passed through it.” He said not wanting to lie to her completely. That was close enough to the truth.

“We’ll have to come back together, you’ll love it. The food is insane. Its beautiful here, like Peru but also so different. Its nice, not too hot, actually its kinda chilly here in the mountains, even though it’s the start of their summer.  Oh, and the flowers are beautiful, there’s a big flower market I’m going to tomorrow.”

“I wish I could be there with you.” He told her a slight longing tinged his voice,

“Me too, I’ll make you a deal I’ll scope out all the best spots then we can come back together! Oh, we could go to Cali too, show off some of those salsa moves I taught you.”

Frankie chuckled leaning back against the couch in their cozy cabin living room. “That sounds perfect. I miss you.”

“I miss you too. Say, how do you feel about revisiting the phone sex thing? Could be hot and I’m all alone in this big empty hotel room.”

“Mhmm, did you realize you didn’t pack a vibrator?”

“What?” She shot up then rifled through her bag. When she realized she had in fact forgotten to pack one she said. “Wait how did you know?’

Frankie might have been shy admitting this at some point in their relationship, but now, he’d been looking forward too it. Especially since he’d concocted his scheme as soon as he’d realized she forgot to pack one. “I got curios last night, I wanted to see what what toy you packed, then I realized there were none missing”

“And you just have categorical knowledge every single one of my sex toys?” Esie smirked, “What am I saying of course you do. Freak.”

“Now, you’re stuck all alone in a hotel room with no toys.” He said with mock sympathy.

“I am…fuck… so… what are you wearing?”

“No, no I think I have a better idea…”

“Oh?” Esie said intrigued.

“I think we should play a game this week, while you’re away.”

“I’m listening.” Just as much as she loved the physical aspect, Frankie also knew she loved the mental aspect to sex.

“You have to play by my rules. And you can only cum when I say.”

“Oh, well … that does sound like it could be hot.” If poorly enforceable. But they both knew that wasn’t the point.

“Do we have a deal?” Frankie said trying to hide his excitement.

“Deal.”

“I want you to touch yourself, slow circles on your clit, for now.”

“Okay.” She said ridding herself of her clothing and sliding a little lower into bed.

“How does that feel?” She wondered how he did that, made his voice both soothing and sexy all at once.

“Good Frankie, I miss your cock, I want it inside me.” She said always the impatient one.

“Yeah, trouble, I do too. Move quicker now,” He commanded.

He told her the things he’d like to do to her is he was there with her. He was surprisingly creative. “Okay, I’m getting closer. Are you going to cum with me?” Esie moaned in her sultriest voice, trying to drive him crazy too, she was certain by now he was stroking himself along with her.

“No,” She could hear the smile in his voice, that should have been her first warning. “I think I’m going make you wait, for now, for your orgasm.”

“Mmm, till when?” She thought maybe he would want to come first for once, she didn’t mind, she liked hearing him fall apart.

“Until you come back, and I can do it for you. It’ll give you nice incentive to come back soon.”

She sat straight up. “What?!”

“You heard me.”

“That’s bullshit!”

“Well, a deal’s a deal. Anyway, I should go, I’ve got a hand and some of these sex toys look like they could be fun…”

“Fuck you!”

“I love you too, baby.” He tease.

“You’re such an asshole. I’m both annoyed and impressed.” She said with a laugh in disbelief. She knew she could disregard their ‘deal’ but, well, she was too intrigued by the idea. And a little surprised her sweet Frankie had come up with something so creatively diabolical. “I love, you, but you’ll pay for this.” Frankie was still laughing as she hung up. Had she created a devious sex monster? If so, that wasn’t a bad thing by her estimation

Esie stayed true to their deal, but that didn’t mean she didn’t pout about it to him at each check in call. The first time she didn’t was also the first time she didn’t was also the first time she didn’t call on time, but she figured that still counted because she was calling early. Just so they wouldn’t worry.

“Hey honey, I know I’m calling a little early for check in, spread the word to the other warden, I imagine you two are still out working the ranch together, adorable. Anyway, I’m headed to Florencia, I have a lead. I’m going to extend the trip a tiny bit… I’m sorry. But I have an old contact who found something interesting about my father’s case. Anyway, I’m grabbing a flight to Florencia now, so I won’t be able to call you right on time. And yes, before you ask, I gave Santiago the details of my rental place. You’ll be happy to know he’s only an hour away from there. So it should be, even safer than Bogotá. And yes. I’ll text you once I get to my rental place, so you don’t worry all night too.  Love you, give Lilly a kiss for me!”

Esie, landed, took a rental car to her place. Met the host who let her in. She sent both Frankie and Javier a text message saying she’d arrived. Then she headed to a little cantina to grab some food for the fridge. She picked up a bouquet of flowers, lilies to remind her of her mother and little Lilly while she worked. She would meet her source the following afternoon. Apparently, he had some interesting information about the robbery of Lorea’s compound. But he wasn’t willing to share it over the phone. Esie didn’t mind, she like that she got to see another part of the country. Florencia wasn’t as flashy as the capital city, which had its grand colonial architecture and was very much a modern bustling metropolis.

Florencia by contrast, was the was settled for the rubber trade in the early 1900s. It was nestled in the amazon region of Columbia.  It sat along the Hacha River, with a population of less than 200,000 people. The last vestige of civilization before the unfathomable expanse of the untamed amazon rainforest and the Andes is nestled up against. It was remote, not set up for tourists like Bogotá, which was a plus by Esie’s estimation. The streets were surprisingly flat given the evaluation of the region. The most ornate build was, predicably was a grand Neo Colonial style church. The other attraction, the one that interested Esie a little more, were the El Encanto Petroglyphs, they were just a kilometre down the river, and Esie had every intention of setting eyes on those too. She wondered if that was something Frankie would like to do, she thought, if was possible for him to be there with her. He’d probably be a big old nerd about it too. She liked that, idea. Though they’d probably have to wait until Lilly was a bit older for that kind of vacation.

She sighed and adjusted the bag of groceries as she rounded the narrow street corner to her little place for the next few days. It had been a long day, the kind of day, she thought ruefully, that would have Frankie hovering around her a little nervously. Trying not to ask how she was feeling, and not so subtly suggesting that she relax while he made dinner. She missed him already. That crazy odd, sweet man. She was almost at her rental door when she started to feel it, that awful woozy lightheaded feeling. Not dissimilar to how she felt that day on the cabin porch. As if reality was quickly slipping through her grasp. Then, darkness.

Next Chapter

AN: I always hate the part of fic where the romantic leads separate... oh well...

Taglist: @bardot49 , @midnights-temptation, @bergamote-catsandbooks, @awkwardpaws, @petalsinblood

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Cool western divider by @olenvasynyt

[midnights-temptation]

Oh, don’t mind me. Just sitting around waiting for Frankie Morales to show up at my door, you know how it is.

[cupofzo]

Being fed.

[midnights-temptation]

Send help.