Narcos - Blog Posts

PEDRO PASCAL… MY LITTLE GAY HEART IS POUNDING

i am NOT off my pedro pascal insanity yet. any time i watch anything he's in i feel like winona ryder when she's all "here he is telling me about his poor dead mother and all i can think about is his hands unbuttoning my dress." joel miller im sorry i was looking at your biceps when your daughter died. maybe you could call me 'baby' too... also sorry about gnawing on my knuckles and screeching in deranged hunger when you were torturing a guy. oberyn martell is talking about the tragic death of his sister and i am NOT listening. let's make out.

as someone who was weirdly and staunchly set against pedro pascal for like, five years, (for no reason either) and declared firmly that i did not find him attractive, this whole new thing where i actually like him a lot and he makes me giggle like an idiot is throwing me off badly. i feel like i'm going insane. i like him so much now. i got furious over a youtube comment section saying he was a weak, overused actor, all fired up like someone kicked my DOG. i'm out here poring over movies and skits and clips like it's religious text. i would ask to be saved but i am resigned to my fate and also i like it here.

Ok but Pedro Pascal-

*internally screaming* according to my friends, *externally swinging my legs whenever I see a pic of him and smiling like a little kid.*

I’m really bored, so I’m going to write a crappy fanfic of Joel at some point soon. Dunno if itll have a title until I finish it but yeah.

Szn 3 Javi was something else truly…the open neck shirts, the tight jeans, his glistening neck, his forearms, the authority he had & how he would take charge in the high intensity situations?….need I say more? specially that green military uniform he had on 🥵😩 😫🥴

JAVIER PEÑA OUTFITS — SEASON 3 Costume design by Mariestela Fernandez, assisted by Eileen Kennedy and Mayra Juarez.

*sigh*

you can’t blame me they are both fucking gorgeous.

I’m sorry for not posting for 3 weeks here’s javier in a pink shirt

𝙥𝙚𝙙𝙧𝙤 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙖𝙨 𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙡𝙮𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙨 :)

din: “𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘷𝘢𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥.” - mirrors by justin timberlake

javier: “𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵.” - getaway car by taylor swift

joel: “𝘙𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱. 𝘎𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘩, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯. 𝘐 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦.” - right where you left me by taylor swift

javi: “𝘐 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩 𝘧𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴, 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦.” - miss americana and the heartbreak prince by taylor swift

whiskey: “𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘐’𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶.” - if this was a movie by taylor swift

he is so getaway car and don’t blame me coded

desperately in need of a brown eyed mustached agent named javier

En México tenemos una cultura rica en referencias a la muerte a menudo caricaturizada, calaquitas sonrientes nos recuerdan a quienes han partido como un acto de amor, conciliando así en ciclo de la vida. Sin embargo la muerte cada vez está más presente en su forma cruel, violenta y despiadada: la narcocultura. Una doctrina donde el miedo es el tipo de cambio y las balas su moneda. Muchas personas desde infantes son absorbides en la idiosincrasia de la decapitación y la violación. Nuestro número ha devaluado la vida. El sadismo es nuestra realidad, mujeres son tiradas a diario en avenidas, zanjas o baldíos muchas incluso hasta destazadas. Somos carne de cañón. Cuerpos cuelgan en todo el país adornando el paisaje macabro, vivimos la muerte inminente burlándonos de la vida. . . . "México picado" Acuarela sobre papel de algodón. 56 x 76 cm. . . . . . #contemporarywatercolour #papelpicado #feminicide #violence #narcos #Acuarela #acuarelacontemporanea #newnarrative #mosaic #amapolas #field #art_spotlight #landscape #artwork #figurative #corpse #guns #bullets #aquarelle #isaacCM (en Tepito) https://www.instagram.com/p/BppLB9aAEdj/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=nurl3lpyzkyd

Faz icon do Wagner Moura aí nmrl kkamsmsm

Poxa eu fiz aí ó nmrl

Pedro Pascal in Narcos.

Daily dose of Javier Peña for you (via Pinterest)

unbelievable how fuckin hot this man is, no wonder he's every girls daddy

Paper, Scissors, Rank (Ch: 8)

CHARACTER/PAIRING:  modern!Carrillo x Army!OC (eventually) 

WARNINGS: maybe some swearing, military slang, more military talk,  spelling and grammatical errors. Flippy floppy points of view and tenses. Could be very OOC/AU for some. Carrillo may not be narcos accurate as this is an AU. Some OC x OC. awkwardly and/or poorly written moments

AUTHORS NOTE: hope yall enjoy this, i was in fact a lil tipsy while writing this so if there is some spelling errors or something akin to that, that could be why.  @1zashreena1 i thank you so much for letting me bounce my ideas off you for most of this content, you are forever a legend. 

WORD COUNT: 4.1k

CHAPTER:  8 OF ?

TAG LIST (OPEN): @girlpornparadise @1zashreena1 @xxidontwikeitxx @nicke0115 @allalngthewtchtower @lettherebrelight

The first few days of their second week together were surprisingly more interactive than the previous week. Carrillo had been spending less time in his office and more time in the living room putting up with whatever terrible show Ash had decided to watch that day. Arguably though, not that he would admit it out loud, he was rather enjoying the quiet company and shitty tv, an incredibly different routine than what he was used to but a welcome one at that.

It was on Tuesday night that the Colonel finished any important and pressing paperwork for his team, with it all being completed by the early hours of twenty three hundred, or at least early for him, he decided that he would turn in early for the night. Before that though, he would do his usual security checks of the house, first starting with the living room. To his surprise the room was not empty, instead he found himself smiling softly at the picture before him. Greyson was slumped upright on the couch, head leaving on the palm of her left arm, and shoulders rising and falling in measured deep breaths. She was yet again asleep on the couch, an increasingly common occurrence over the last few nights.

It was as if his feet had a mind of his own as the Colonel soon found himself standing before the sleeping junior officer. He debated whether or not it would be wise to wake her up, her position did not look comfortable in the slightest, but if her soft snores were anything to go by, she was in a deep sleep, something he felt she didn't get often. The last few nights he'd woken to anguished screams coming from Ash's room, before hearing her door open and her footsteps as she began to pace the length of the living room before exhausting herself and collapsing onto the couch. He would usually lay awake for a good ten or so minutes after her pacing had stopped before he would check on her, normally finding her drenched in sweat but shivering on the couch as she had not had the forethought to grab a blanket in her exhausted and frazzled state.

A small part of him felt sorry for the fresh officer, whatever was haunting her was obviously taking a toll on her and there was another part of him that wanted to slowly crack through her defences and find out what it was so he could help her, or at least comfort her,  in some way.  These kinds of thoughts were becoming more and more common and were beginning to somewhat startle him and set him off kilter around Greyson. He usually had a good grip on his emotions and was able to push feelings away and stay strictly professional around any female colleagues, but with this officer he found himself wanting to cross that line. He barely knew the young soldier  but she had set a lasting impression on him that he had tried to shake with all his might. So for now he would indulge himself in caring for her in subtle ways that could be seen as a superior caring for his injured member of his team and wait to get a positive or negative reaction from Greyson. Either way, this former cadet was going to be around for a while, so he needed to restrain his growing feelings as best as he could, he would not want a repeat of the Sinclair situation. 

Huffing quietly in frustration he hastily snatched up a blanket that resided on the back of one of the neighboring couches before, as gently as possible, draping it over the sleeping soldier. He watched as she began to stretch out on the couch, grasping the blanket closer to her chest and snuggling down into the warmth. A strange tightness developed in his chest at that, one he hadn't felt in many many years. Whatever feelings he had for this soldier needed to be pushed aside, he couldn't afford for a margin of error in his team or a potential weakness to be exploited against either of them. With measured steps he conducted his nightly checks of the house, ensuring the locks on the front and back doors were engaged, the window locks were secure, and the security cameras that were hidden around the outside of the house we recording as usual. 

Checks completed he all but marched his way back to his room, silently closing his door, before ripping his shirt over his head, shucking off his boots and pants, and climbing into bed in naught but his boxers. Double checking that his alarm was set he decided that an early morning run would be a good way to clear his head, and he could scope out areas of the property that would make for good exercise scenarios training spots.

His sleep was fitful. Full of moments already shared between himself and the younger officer who constantly occupied his every waking thoughts and potential moments that he silently hoped would come to fruition as their time together continued to build a bond between them. Whether that be strictly professional or borderline inappropriate he wasn't sure if his resolve was strong enough to keep his feelings at bay long enough for them to fizzle out into nothing but a thought he could look back on and scoff at. 

                                                         -------

Ash groaned the moment she woke, she stretched out her legs, laughing lightly at the way her joints all seemed to pop and her muscles became taught. She missed the daily ache that accompanied the constant tiredness of her cadets course. Instead now she was stuck on prescribed bed rest, unless she saw fit to disobey a direct order from the Colonel. Just a thought of his rank sent an oddly delighted shiver down her spine. Reaching over to grab her phone to check the time had her eyes bugging out of her head, she had woken il two hours later than normal, and frankly, while she knew she needed the rest, she had wished she had had the forethought to set an alarm rather than relying on her messed up body clock.

Her injuries were beginning to heal quite well now, the stitches in her head and her side were itchy and ready to be taken out but the concussion was having more of a lasting effect than she would have hoped. While she no longer woke up feeling sick or dizzy she would now have random bouts of dizziness during the day instead, which was usually succeeded by a varying degree of nausea. This morning however, she felt great. Climbing from her bed and pulling on a normal length military t-shirt and a pair of military issue shorts, that even she deemed to be a tad on the shorter side, she quickly pulled on a pair of running shoes. Today she was determined to walk around the edge of the property and see if anything other than the house had changed since she had attended this particular training ground all those years ago.

She left her room functioning on autopilot, intending to head in the direction of the kitchen to have a quick coffee before venturing outside. Her plan, however, was foiled when she suddenly collided with a solid mass after taking no more than four steps out of her room. The momentum of the crash had her hands flying out to grasp onto whatever she had bashed into in an attempt to steady herself. It took her a moment to gather her senses, but when she did, a blush settled across her face and down her neck.

Her hands had landed on a warm, slightly damp, very shirtless and muscular chest that could only belong to one person, the one person who she had began developing feelings for since she met them, Colonel Carrillo. A small yelp left her mouth at the realisation of what was happening, he was shirtless, for some reason, and she was just standing there with her palms on his chest, not so subtly feeling him up. Time seemed to have frozen, neither person was moving except for Ash’s eyes, which were drinking in the sight that was oh so wonderfully close to her. Making the first move she began to pull away from the man before her, running her hands featherlight over his pecs in a self indulgent moment, a smile growing on her face as she felt, rather than saw, the small shiver that wracked his body. 

She took a small step backwards, intending to put enough space between them to be professional, only to be stopped by his hands coming up and grasping onto her elbows in a tentative grip. Ash let her eyes trail languidly over his body as she made her way up to his face, his stomach was well toned, the deep ‘V’ of his hips was prominent and his abs were defined but not chiseled , he was bulky in a way that screamed alpha male. It was inherently obvious he worked out alongside his already physically demanding  job. Her eyes continued their upwards, her breath  hitching while taking in the broad beautifully tanned expanse of skin that was his chest, his pecs where the most defined part about him, a key feature one might say, along with those arms of his. Ash took note of the way his breath had sped up over the course of her gaping , thankfully it seemed she was not the only one affected by the others presence. 

She yearned to reach out and run her hands along the taught muscles of his forearms and up along his biceps, feeling the strength that he held within the muscles, muscles that she more often than not dreamed about. Her eyes finally came to settle on his face. He looked pained, brow drawn downwards in feigned confusion and his lips pressed tightly together as if to stop himself from speaking, his eyes were what betrayed him. His pupils were blown so wide that the delicious brown was now but a small ring around them. Ash could only imagine her face mirrored his own, the lust was palpable, this was dangerous territory. 

His eyes were fixed intently on her and Ash had to gulp as his lips parted and his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip. Her thoughts were getting more and more muddled being this close to him in this situation. Ash took yet another small step backwards as to put enough distance between them for them both to clear their thoughts, failing to do so when she tripped on the edge of the rug that covered the majority of the living room. Her eyes widened in shock when she felt her back hit the ground and felt the breath of the Colonel on her face as he fell with her, landing in the perfect pushup position above her. If Ash thought their previous position was dangerous territory she didn’t have words to describe their current predicament, though she would be lying if she said she hadn’t imagined this situation before but with her in significantly less clothing. It took her till this moment to realise that Carrillo was in fact, only in a towel, that was now, hanging on by only a small margin and stretched tight and low along his hips. 

The position was compromising at best, her hands had one again found themselves attached to his glorious body, this time settling on his biceps just like she had wanted, the sheer mass of muscle contained beneath both her hands had her stomach in knots and a fire flowing through her veins. She watched, mesmerized, as a droplet of water made its descent from behind his ear, along the tight muscles of his neck and down into the dip of his collar bone, stopping for a moment before continuing down his chest. Ash involuntarily licked her lips, wanting nothing more to lean forward and run her tongue along the path the droplet was taking before sucking a mark wherever the droplet stilled. A movement to her right drew her attention away from gawking at his chest and up towards his face yet again. He had shifted himself onto one arm and was peering down at her with an unreadable expression on his face, but there was clearly some kind of intent swirling in the depth of his eyes.

Ash jumped momentarily when his hand settled heavily on her now exposed midriff, a hair's breadth away from the stitches that decorated her side. The smirk that graced his face when he felt her jump sent a bolt of pure unadulterated desire right to her core, the look on his face was lustful and hungry. Her breathing was beyond erratic now, there was a pent up tension in her body longing to be released but at this moment she was going to leave the fate of the situation in her commanding officers’ hands, since he so clearly fed off being in control. It was as if she forgot how to breathe as she felt his hand began to trail upwards, lifting her shirt in the process and exposing more of her toned stomach to the man before her, his hand moved inwards trailing the tip of his forefinger along the etched grove of her stomach and up towards her breasts in a teasing manner, but before he could reach the destination she so desperately hoped for he stilled, pondering for a moment as he searched her face for any kind of hesitation, finding none he continued his journey north between the valley of her breasts and along the hollow of her throat before settling his hand there with barely any pressure. 

 Ash let out a barely there moan, the action was much more comfortable and thrilling to her than she would care to admit out loud. She watched as his face went through varying emotions before settling on determination, and with measured movements the Colonel shifted his large hand slightly to guide her chin upwards slightly to be in the optimum position to finally plant a kiss that the both wanted so badly onto her lips. Ash watched with bated breath as his face oh so slowly made his way closer to her own, eyes searching for any hesitation that would have his moments ceasing in an instant, to his surprise, she began moving slightly off the floor to meet his advances and finally seal the deal and cross the line between professional and personal. 

They were a mere centimeters apart, breath mixing and both breathing unsteadily, when a shrill ringing pierced through the silence of their moment, ruining the potential moment of bliss for the Officers. It was like a bucket of cold water had been poured over the both of them, shocking enough to have Carrillo rolling to the left as fast as someone could yell ‘gun’ and Ash rolling the opposite direction and jumping to her feet. The tension in the room was thick enough to be cut with a knife but as the Colonel looked at her with something akin to regret crossing his face Ash knew she couldn’t stand to be in the same room as him for a moment longer, so she scampered away and into the comfort of her room, slamming the door on her way in before collapsing on her bed and trying to wrap her head around what had just happened. Had the Colonel really had the intention to kiss her? 

                                                           -------

To say little interaction happened between the two officers after the incident was not far from the truth. Despite her desires for the Colonel , Ash had been all but avoiding him since that fateful morning, hoping that by avoiding any contact possible with the man in question that her feelings would also be avoided, a plan that was full of holes considering it was only the two of them on the property and a good three hours of driving between them and the rest of civilisation. She knew her behaviour towards the man in question could be seen in multiple different ways but she was stubborn through and through, if she didn’t need to be near the man then she was never found near him.

Their late night tv watches, breakfast together with interesting little chats, dinner shared together when Carrillo wasn’t doing paperwork had all been scraped at Ash’s behest. She would wake up before him and quickly make some food and disappear either back to her room or go for a brisk walk around the tree lined property. She would force herself to stay in her room even after the multiple nightmares would have her jolting awake with a scream leaving her throat, while she had once sought comfort in pacing the living room she could now only reflect on the incident  that had occurred there and the look of regret that had graced the Colonels face. As for dinner time, the Colonel still cooked for the both of them, even if she was avoiding him, something she was highly grateful for, except now instead of sitting on the couch watching any number of things in quiet company, they now went their separate ways. Carrillo to his office and Greyson usually went outside to sit in nature and calm her frazzled nerves from being around her commanding officer. 

Her plan was going extremely well for a few days until she got a call from the medics back at base confirming that it was time for her to come and get her stitches removed as it had been a good few weeks now. This put a kink in her plans, she was still getting far too many dizzy spells randomly throughout the day which meant she wouldn’t be able to drive herself to the hospital so she would be forced to man up and ask the Colonel to drive her. Three hours in a car with the man who by all means she was trying to push down her feelings for was going to be a world of hell, infinitely more awkward than the current household situation. 

She got up off the couch and began moving in the direction of the room that was set up as the teams workspace only to stop dead in her track as the Colonel exited the room and stared directly at her before pointing at the phone current held in his left hand, “I just got a call from the medics, you're needed at the hospital to get those stitches taken out”  he pointed at her head and then gestured in the general direction of her stab wound, “ Doctors protocol call for me to drive you there, they want your concussion to be cleared before you’re allowed to drive” 

Ash began to open her mouth to voice her protest but was cut short when the Colonel levelled with a look that said ‘don't try me’ and the words, “That's an order soldier! Now let's go”.  Ash wanted to protest and kick up a fuss but she knew it was no use, he was probably pissed that she’d been ignoring him for the past three or four days, and rightfully so, she’d acted much like a petulant child rather than the strong young soldier he had recruited her for. Ash knew that the only way she would be able to survive the awkwardness of the car ride was to sleep, something she hadn’t got much of for the last few nights because she had been tossing and turning trying to figure out if what she had encountered with the Colonel had been a slip in his defenses or a trick to see if she was loyal to his cause. But as she glanced over to take in the disheveled appearance and tired eyes of the Colonel beside her, she knew he had been feeling the same or at the very least, not been sleeping like he used to, he looked far too tired. 

Ash dropped her seat backward in the SUV they were travelling in, a bulletproof rig the army had provided to keep the team safe whenever they did live fire practice or did a real raid, leaning her head against the cool window of the car brought a small moment of clarity for the young soldier, it might have been easier to apologize for her actions and try and smooth things over but that was not how Greyson worked. She would apologise when things got so bad that she had no other choice. The sense of peace the came from being around her commanding officer soon had her falling into a deep sleep, hopefully one that was peaceful and refreshing for once.

They were nearly two hours into the three hour drive to the base hospital when Carrillo heard a whimper come from the young officer in the seat beside him, at first he thought she had just bumped her head on the window as the road was rough in some areas, but when he heard another whimper and a quietly whispered “no” come from the sleeping female he had no choice but to look over at her and when he did he slowed the car down and threw it into park. The junior officer was sweating profusely, shaking violent and pale as a sheet, quietly mumbled words were tumbling from her lips as her brows were drawn together in a look of muted horror.  Carrillo didn’t know what to think but he knew he couldn’t let her suffer so he reached across the car and gently shook Greyson by her shoulder, increasing in intensity when she didn’t wake up the first time, it was on his forth more violent shake of her shoulder that she finally woke, glancing around with tears brimming in her eyes and a startled expression on her face.

Ash had to take long measured breaths to calm her frantically beating heart, that nightmare had been one of the worse yet and she was silently grateful that the man before her had woken her before it had got any worse, reliving the death of a family member was not something that Ash wanted to repeat, but it seemed her brain wanted to taunt her constantly. She had to hold back a muted sob as emotion overtook her body and the tears began to flow freely from her eyes, she hated look weak in front of people especially someone who she’d be working beneath for god knows how long. The blood was rushing in her ears cause her to zone out and try and focus on bringing herself back to a calm state, it wasn’t until she saw Carrillo’s fingers snapping in front of her face that she finally snapped out of it and turned her tear stained face to meet his own pained expression. 

“Care to tell me what has got you so upset Greyson? Is it the same thing that has had you waking up screaming in the middle of the night? I want to help you Ash” 

Hearing her first name leave the mouth of the man before her was like a shock to the system, but it had the desired effect, she felt the need to confess what was happening to her and why she was indeed having horrible nightmares almost every night since she woke up in the hospital bed nearly three weeks ago. Gulping down her pride and realising that out of anyone the Colonel was probably the best person to tell her troubles too incase her past came back to haunt her, she turned to him, a sad smile on her face and uttered, “It's a long story, Sir, but if you want to know I’m willing to share” 

Carrillo smiled softly at the young officer before him, reaching out to grasp her hand tightly in his own to instill a small sense of comfort, he nodded slowly, he had finally managed to crack into her defences but what he didn’t know is he was about to find out how truly broken the soldier before him really was. 

Paper, Scissors, Rank (Ch: 6)

CHARACTER/PAIRING: Modern!Carrillo x Army!OC (eventually) 

WARNINGS: maybe some swearing, military slang, more military talk,  spelling and grammatical errors. Flippy floppy points of view and tenses. Could be very OOC/AU for some. Carrillo may not be narcos accurate as this is an AU. Some OC x OC 

AUTHORS NOTE: not too much happening this chapter, again a big thank you to @1zashreena1 for helping me with my ideas for this chapter. finally a first name for the OC, and Sinclair being a dick. hope yall enjoy

WORD COUNT: 3.1K

CHAPTER: 6 OF ?

TAG LIST(OPEN): @girlpornparadise @1zashreena1 @xxidontwikeitxx @nicke0115 @allalngthewtchtower @lettherebrelight

Greyson woke with a gasp, her head was pounding like she’d been on a week long bender, and her jaw ached beyond measure. She went to sit up only to fall back clutching her side in pain, Ugh what the fuck.  Shaking away the blurry vision that came with waking up, she allowed her eyes to adjust to her surroundings. She took in the clinically white walls and curtains, the bed that looked too medical to be her own and finally her eyes landed on the tubes in her arms. Why the fuck am I in the hospital!. A fresh wave of panic shot through the cadet as she went to climb out of the bed and find someone to explain to her what the hell she was doing here. But as she went to sit up again a pair of large, strong hands softly pinned her back in place. She swung to her right ready to give the person a piece of her mind, only to make eye contact with a pair of tired looking deep brown eyes. What’s Colonel Carrillo doing here?

“Don’t move Second Lt Greyson, you’re not in good shape” He offered softly. “I’ll go grab the medic in charge. Stay put” the last bit was said as more of a light order. He knew from her grimace when she woke that she was in more pain than she let on. He’d seen a similar look on his own face one to many times. He patted her gently on the shoulder, as to not aggravate her injuries any further, and turned to walk out the door and alert the medics, only to be stopped by a smaller, softer hand grabbing his own.

“Sir, what do you mean Second Lieutenant? I haven’t graduated yet!” Anger, always her go to emotion, bled through the initial confusion in her tone. There was no way she had graduated, she would remember that surely. She dared a glance at his face but first noted the way she was gripping his hand with such force she was probably hurting him. She dropped his hand like he was made of fire. Eyes dragged over his torso slowly, his shoulders were slumped, his posture nothing like the Colonel she was used to seeing, if only briefly. What the fuck has gotten into him?. “Sir, is something wrong?” her tone was soft enough to shock herself, was she subconsciously trying to comfort him, she shook that thought off, now is not the time for that you idiot.

Carrillo sighed, running a hand over his face like he was trying to wash away the hours a day he had spent reading over files while keeping a watch over her. He knew that when she came to, she would waffle off questions a mile a minute, without much of a care from her injuries. He had read over any report that contained highly detailed information about her. He had sat down with each cadet and discussed what she was like in training before he arrived. Most of the cadets enjoyed her company, looked up to her and envied her unparalleled skills. Yes some of the females were jealous of how she seemed to fit in with some of the boys and how many of the male instructors paid attention to her, but none displayed the attitude or mental instability  to want to physically hurt the cadet who laid awake in the hospital bed before him.

One way or another he knew the truth would come out, he could only hope that she would not try and seek vengeance when they finally found the culprit, or maybe it would help her , he mused.  “You’ve been laid up in bed for just over a week Greyson, whoever did this to you knew what they were doing and hit you hard. I’ll let the medics cover most of it but, you're a permanent member of my team now, your position in the army is safe. Congratulations for graduating” The last bit was added as a kind of after statement and accompanied with a shrug. He didn't really know what to say to the young officer before him. The attack on her had put the base, and his team who were currently scattered on deployments, into high alert. He didn’t know how to explain it but the sinking feeling at losing a team member, one as talented as she was, so soon had cut him deeper than he’d ever admit. Strange for only having known Greyson for no longer than a few weeks.

Greyson lay there stunned while watching him leave the room. Out for over a week, everyone has graduated, and she’s a permanent member of his team?. Who knew so much could happen while being unconscious for a week. Her side was itchy, too itchy. Lifting the blankets that covered her body and taking in a relatively large white bandage on her side has her eyes growing wide. The fuck happened to me.  Obviously her injuries were worse than the Colonel let on. He had said she’d been targeted, so whoever had done this had motive. The only motive against her she could think of was her tarnished last name because of her father. Of course that prick's mistakes would come round to bite me in the ass. Greyson laughed and regretted it instantly. The pain that radiated from her left side was some of the worst she’d felt since breaking three of her ribs in a kickboxing tournament, actually, now that she thought about it, the pain was the same. It wouldn’t surprise her if she had broken those same ribs again.

Turns out, she was, in fact, correct. The medics had entered the room a short while after the Colonel had left and detailed her injuries. Four broken ribs, a split eyebrow, forehead split from the opposite eyebrow to the scalp, a concussion that she would be nursing for another week or so, a broken nose that would soon be healed and last but not least, an inch deep stab wound to her left side that went from just above her hip to just below her ribs. Whoever had done this really did a number on her, that was for sure. The list of injuries sure came as a shock to the soldier, it was clear that the person who committed this crime was out for blood, and it was almost as though they had sought to kill her but had been spooked by someone entering the gym. She definitely had to see Calliope and thank him for saving her life, and thank Carrillo for saving her damn career.

It was around an hour or so later that her door opened again, presuming it was just the Colonel coming to check to make sure she hadn’t carked it since he last left the room, she didn’t bother to open her eyes or lift her head from the position of comfortable rest she was in. A mistake on her behalf, she tensed when a hand grabbed her own and began rubbing small circles on her palm. There was no way this was the Colonel. The hands were arguably smaller and not as calloused as the aforementioned mans were. Not that I paid attention to that, she told herself. Or more accurately, lied to herself. It was practically the only thing she had focused on when she had reached out to grab a hold of him. She could not shake the feeling of those strong, calloused and oh so large and warm hands travelling across other parts of her body. Ok seriously, not the way to think of him, even if he is a god of a man.  

Daring to open an eye just enough to get a glimpse of the person in her room, she nearly clambered from the bed in shock, although it really should not have come as a surprise to her that the Lt. Colonel had found his way into her room. She observed the fact that he looked shattered. Big dark circles under his eyes, slumped posture, and eyes that made him look less like the jovial forever joking around man and more like the man who carried the rank of Lt. Colonel. She heard what sounded like a sniffle come from the man, is he really crying right now?

Sinclair was indeed crying. He felt partially responsible for what had happened to the young officer in the bed before him. Maybe if he hadn’t have pushed her then she would have graduated with her pairs and be running round learning the ways of her new team. But no, here she was lying in a bed she had no place being, with an amount of stitches he didn’t even want to think about and probably hating his guts. Which he felt was probably the most accurate response she could have to this situation. Still, he had to try his luck. She had, after all, graduated and was now a serving officer.

“I’m fucking sorry, Ash. I should’ve gone after you and talked it out. I didn't want you to think badly about me because of it” He sniffed, voice cracked, but he continued on, “It's all my fault, i should never have put you in the position, I’m sorry” his voice tapered off at the end, broken slightly by his now croaky voice as the tears began to come full force, emotion over taking him more than he thought possible. He genuinely liked this girl, despite going about it the wrong way, he felt deeply for her and would continue to even if she rejected him, although this time he would cut his losses and attempt to move on. He jumped briefly when he felt her hand close in around his, he didn’t know she was awake. Now he felt stupid for crying.

“Sir, it’s not your fault, I don’t blame you for what happened. If anything, it’s my own fault for continuing to feel something for you even when I knew nothing could ever come of it. And for that I’m sorry” she stopped to gather herself, taking a deep breath before continuing, “But I do think it’s best that we stop whatever this could have been before it even begins. It will not look good for either of us, no matter how much we both might want it, I’m sorry Sir”  Ash cleared her throat before looking up at the man who was still rubbing soothing circles on her hand, his grip had tightened slightly when she said they shouldn’t continue, but he looked somewhat, relieved? And then he was laughing, a full bellied laugh that confused Ash to no end. She tilted her head at him, one eyebrow raised, and an expression that said Care to share what's so funny

“I knew it! I bloody knew it. Of course it wasn’t one sided, I knew you felt something for me” His tone was joyous, his smile was one akin to that of a cat that caught the canary. “Why didn’t you tell me, all this confusion could have been fixed, we could be together, right now, happy. You could’ve been mine already”

A shudder of disgust ran through the young officer, one strong enough for her to yank her hand out of his and bring it closer to her chest, safely away from his grasp. If Ash wasn’t already denying the man before her an attempt at a relationship, then his final sentence would have thrown her over the line. She wasn’t anyone's to keep. Let alone this deranged Lt. Colonels. If anything there was only one person, or team rather, she belonged to. And that was not Sinclair, no matter how bad he wanted that. His expression turned from one of joy to anger in a very short minute, one that scared Ash, not that she let that emotion cross her face, lest he think he’s won.

Ash gulped, gathered some courage and was about to give the LT. Colonel a piece of her mind when the door to her room opened suddenly to reveal Colonel Carrillo. It took Ash a moment to register the look of controlled anger on the Colonels face before she realized it wasn’t directed at her, but the man to her right. He took a calculated step into the room, before closing the door with a deliberate force. There was no denying who was in charge right now, the raw power the colonel was displaying sent a pang of heat straight to Greyson’s gut. Fuck why is he so undeniably hot right now, common Sir, hit him . Ash snorted at her internal thoughts. God, she was a mess sometimes.

The glare Colonel Carrillo leveled Sinclair with would make any sane man start begging for forgiveness on the spot. Sinclair had proven one two many times his intentions with Greyson, and now, having heard from standing outside the room, that he was trying to claim her as his own and convince her that they should be together, it made him irate. Obviously his previous warning was not taken on board by the lieutenant. Worse still, he had felt an unusual pang in his chest when he had heard the second lieutenant confess that she felt something for the dishonorable man standing before him now. “If you don’t get the fuck out of this room within the next ten seconds I’ll put a bullet in your thick skull. Obviously threatening your rank wasn’t enough, so don’t fucking try me this time Sinclair, that's an order!”

Ash gulped at the tension forming between both men. Sinclair had stood from the chair he had resided in and was nearly toe to toe with the superior officer. There was anger rolling off him in waves, his shoulders were pulled back and he was puffing out his chest. Fucking typical males, Ash scoffed.  But from her vantage point she could see that Carrillo was entirely too calm about squaring off with the man before him. He stood just an inch shorter than Sinclair but was broader by far, and carried a strength that surpassed any the lieutenant could ever dream to possess. He was staring down his nose at him, smirking to egg the man on to make the first move. And in the moment Greyson had never seen a more attractive sight. It was thrilling to be this close to such a raw display of power and such a far less man thinking he had a chance to beat the formidable Colonel Carrillo.

If Ash was to recall the day further on in her career she would say it was Sinclair who threw the first punch and started the fight, despite clearly seeing Carrillo mutter something low enough for only the men to hear. Whatever it was had its desired effect. The right hook that was thrown clipped the edge of the Colonel’s jaw but barely phased him, one minute he was registering a small inkling of pain, the next he had the slightly younger officer pinned to the wall, forearm across his throat, and hand grasping his pistol, ready to pull it from its holster and follow through with his current threat. He began to pull said gun from its holster, only to be stopped by a smaller hand covering his own and a quiet but firm voice whispering against the shell of his ear, “Don’t Carrillo, he’s not worth the paperwork”.

It was like a bucket of cold water had been poured over him, what was he even doing?. Greyson was right, the useless excuse of an officer before him really wasn’t worth the paper work. He secured his pistol before ripping his arm off the man's throat, smirking at the way he was gasping for breath and beyond pale. Good  he thought, maybe this time the message has really been cemented in this idiots’ brain . He didn’t need to tell the man to leave, once he had gathered enough breath to move he was all but sprinting from the room, not even daring to glance back at the youngest officer in the room. Carrillo was startled from his thoughts when Ash punched him in the arm, before wincing and pulling her hand back. He glanced at her, a shocked expression on his face, awaiting her next move.

“What the fuck was that!?” she hissed out at him before taking in a deep breath to center herself, her vision was a little blurry but she attributed that to the fact she had practically leapt from the bed to stop the Colonel committing blue force murder. Even if she despised Sinclair and his actions, she honestly couldn’t believe she actually had feelings for a man like that, the idea sent a cold shiver down her back. Ash swayed on her feet, she was getting increasingly unsteady. Warm hands grabbed her by the elbows and guided her back to the bed, she was thankful for that, even if she was partially angry at the Colonel before her.

“Stop being difficult and stay in the damn bed soldier” His gruff voice made her shiver but she obeyed him nonetheless, likely due to the underlying order in his tone.  He seemed to think for a moment, contemplating the right words to say, before he shrugged and announced “The medics decided it would be best for you to be monitored for the next few weeks until you’re given a clean bill of health. So I offered my place, or rather the team's new headquarters. The rest of the team will arrive in a month or so off deployment, it's gonna be just us in the meantime” He ceased speaking for a moment as he made his way to the door, “I’ll go sign your discharge papers, we depart in twenty, chop chop Lieutenant” and without so much as another word, he disappeared out the door.  Ash was stunned, a seemingly normal occurrence while in his presence. A month in a house, alone with Colonel Carrillo, this could be both the best and worst thing to happen to her lately, but she couldn’t wait, this could be a wild ride, or a terrible nightmare.  Greyson hoped it was the former rather than the later.

Paper, Scissors, Rank (Ch: 5)

CHARACTER/PAIRING: Modern!Carrillo x Army!OC (eventually) 

WARNINGS: maybe some swearing, military slang, more military talk,  spelling and grammatical errors. Flippy floppy points of view and tenses. Could be very OOC/AU for some. Carrillo may not be narcos accurate as this is an AU. Some OC x OC 

AUTHORS NOTE: bit of backstory in this chapter, warning if you don't like blood, theres some but its not overly descriptive. Other than that, bit of Carrillo, bit of OC. bit of everything really. shorter chapter

WORD COUNT: 2.4k 

CHAPTER:   5 OF ?

TAG LIST(OPEN): @girlpornparadise @1zashreena1 @xxidontwikeitxx @nicke0115 @allalngthewtchtower @lettherebrelight

Greyson stayed slumped against the wall longer than necessary, hopelessly trying to bring her heart rate back to normal after the frankly, overwhelmingly hot, interaction with the Colonel. Yes she was ecstatic that she had been chosen for his team, but she wasn’t really able to process that information after the mess he had left her in. She was panting like a dog in heat, unbearably turned on, and sticky in places she hadn’t been in a very long time. Whatever he had just done to her, she wanted more of it. Lots more of it. He had opened a gateway into all things filthy and it frustrated her to no end.

Pushing herself into the upright position was no easy feat, but she knew she needed to work out her frustration even more after that interaction with the Colonel.  No, she thought, maybe from now on I should call him Carrillo, since he is now my boss and all. The thrill of that settled low in her stomach and had her heart jumping at the thought. Grunting she pushed herself towards the gym with haste, before she could follow the mounting temptation to follow the Colo--- Carrillo, down the hallway to finish what he started. 

Glancing around the gym she made note of the equipment. A few boxing bags, a couple of dumb bells, a bench press and other various things she could not name. Not the best of gyms but it would do. Stripping out of her long sleeve camo shirt she was left in her army issue green t-shirt, a shirt that was usually reserved for occasions such as this. She made the hasty decision to shuck off her boots and socks leaving her barefoot, before rolling her pants legs up a few inches to rest a rough inch below her knee. A much more practical workout attire. 

Forgoing the weights as they weren’t her style, Greyson focused on the bags hanging in the middle of the room. Now this is where she would have fun. Coming from a generational military family had meant that her father had wanted her ‘fighting fit’ as soon as she was able to walk. By the time she was five years old she had been enrolled in martial arts and kids cadets. By age twelve she had won three championships in the sport and taken home the drill trophy at the cadet school. She couldn’t have made her father prouder, until the moment she won nationals for kickboxing, taking home the trophy and quite substantial prize money. That was the moment she knew she wanted to fight for a living, not as a pro kickboxer but as a soldier like her father was, she was only fifteen at the time. 

At age seventeen she enlisted in the army, only to be denied on medical grounds and put on a two year stand down. From then on out, her father didn’t pay her any notice, always stealing himself away from the ‘disappointment’ of the family and being deployed for months at a time on purpose. Being the only child, and being denied access into the only service her family thought fit to serve in, made her feel like a useless waste of space. 

Even while feeling like the worlds biggest disappointment she still pushed herself to her limits, training seven days a week for up to four hours a day, trying oh so desperately to make her father proud of her. At nineteen she didn’t want to become a regular soldier, she wanted to become an officer, but that would require her to wait another two years to be the minimum age to enlist. So she waited, kept training hard. She took shooting lessons at the local range, would do weighted pack runs three times a week and spend hours out in the bush at night teaching herself survival techniques. All the things she could hope would help her when she finally made the cut. 

When she enlisted again at twenty-one, they denied her on the grounds that ‘she didn’t have enough life experience’, so this time, instead of letting it get to her, she doubled down on the training. And finally, when she reapplied again at twenty two years of age, she was accepted and began her first day of training a mere week after her twenty third birthday. Yet, she was still one of the youngest of the cadets she enlisted with, the eldest, Cadet Monroe, being thirty two years of age. It baffled her why someone would join as a cadet at that age when she knew the LT. Colonel, and possibly the Colonel himself, was younger than the cadet. 

Pushing those thought from her mind Greyson began her workout, spending a small amount of time to warm up, before jumping straight into combination drills on the bag that she had learnt many years ago. She was able to switch off at this point, the years of doing the same routines over and over had drilled this into her muscle memory. She was all fluid motion and hard calculated strikes at her age. Briefly her thoughts return to the situation that had occurred mere minutes ago in the hallway. The way the Colonel’s body had been so tightly pushed against her had her breathing increasing, far from being exhausted  she threw more weight into her strikes. 

Damn that handsome bastard of an officer for working me up like this. This is the kind of shit that shouldn’t be getting to me anymore! , and with one last frustrated huff Greyson threw her hardest punch yet, yelping from the force of landing on the bag. She pulled her hand towards her chest to examine it. From the look of it, there was no damage done other than a few bruises covering her knuckles, not an unusual feeling for the cadet. She just wish she had been quick enough to land a hit of that smug face that was now haunting her thoughts more so than ever. 

                                                       -------

Carrillo had finally made it to his intended destination, Lt. Colonel Sinclair's’ office. There was small doubt in his mind that the man residing within the office had been playing upon His cadets’ emotions during the course of her training. He wasn’t a stupid man by any means, he had put two and two together after witnessing the moment that occurred between himself and Greyson at the training yards. The smug smirk the Lt. had sported while walking past him that   day had planted a seed of disrespect towards the man. 

Carrillo didn't bother to knock on the man's door before barging in, he was in fact the senior officer in this situation so the LT. could suck it up. 

Sinclair stood up in a hell of a rush, not really sure as to who would be bursting into his office at this time of day, he had half expected to see Cadet Greyson standing there waiting to apologize and finally accept his attention, instead he was greeted with the stone faced Colonel from Columbia.  “Ah Sir, good to see you again, I gather that your time on the base has been productive, congrats on forming your team. Now, what can I help you with, Sir ?”

“It has been brought to my attention that you were not forthcoming about the information regarding the cadet that I have selected, rather you lied to the cadets while claiming you had not yet been informed yourself, is this true Lieutenant?”  

“I... uh... what Sir. I don’t know where you got that bullshit from but that is not the case, I held Greyson behind to give her the good news but she stormed off before I could tell her” The lieutenant cleared his throat to cover his mounting embarrassment at the situation before him. He definitely wasn’t above lying to cover his tracks and throw the Colonel in front of him off the scent of his essentially illegal advances at the cadet mentioned. He was greeted with a raised eyebrow and a knowing look on the Columbians face.

“I think it's safe to say you can cut the shit, Sinclair. I know all about your advances toward Cadet Greyson. I fail to see why you would lie about it considering the rumors' brewing in the Cadets barracks tonight. That and might I mention the encounter I witnessed between you and Greyson just a few days ago. There was nothing professional about that!” 

“Look, Sir” The Lt. Colonel spat, making his way around his desk to make himself look bigger, “Frankly it's none of your damn business which cadets I chose to associate with or not. Greyson can make up her own mind about what and WHO, she wants. And let's face it, they graduate in a little over a week now. The cadets are fair game to the rest of the corps now” The borderline insubordination coupled with the hungry grin cemented exactly what the Lt. Colonel was trying to obtain. The realization had Colonel Carrillo’s stomach turning at the thought. If he was this open and honest about his intentions then HIS cadet was in a very rocky situation. 

Clearing his throat and taking a rather large step toward the lower ranked officer before him, the Colonel fought off the need to punch the smug man in the face. But there was no point in doing that, lest he chase off the Cadet from his team, he still was unsure of her exact feelings for the man currently before him. He tilted his head back to stare down his nose at the perverse man before him.  Crowding just ever so close to the man to make him uncomfortable.

“I suggest you stay the fuck away from that recruit, Lieutenant. She is part of MY  team which now makes her, MY  responsibility and henceforth, MY cadet. Keep your filthy hands off her or I'll have you charged for unwanted advances, then it will be goodbye senior rank and back to junior officer you go. Understood?” The Colonel declared, fully expecting the man before him to back down, except defeat and allow him to carry on with his evening. The exact opposite occurred.

“I think there is something you just don’t quite get, Sir” the Lt. Colonel scoffed, “That girl out there, that stupid young cadet, will believe anything that is fed to her. How do you think I got her wrapped around my finger in the first place” He laughed off the end of his sentence, pushing at the Colonels’ shoulders in order to get past him to sit back down behind his desk.  “As far as I'm concerned, you don’t have a single claim on that cadet until she accepts your proposal to join your team..” he trailed off before delivering the most sarcastic “SIR!” he could muster. Shoulder shaking as he chuckled away to himself. 

                                                        -------

Greyson had pushed herself to the point of over exertion. Working out at a hundred percent capacity would do that to a person, even if she was used to endurance training. Combining the work out with her mental and previous physical exertion had been enough for her to drop to the mats after a solid hour of hammering the training bag. Her knuckles of her left hand were thoroughly bruised but the knuckles of her right hand were a bit more worse for wear. A deep gash had formed over the knuckle of her index finger, the bloody pouring steadily from the gash, the rest of her knuckles on that hand were marked with much smaller gashes, a minimal amount of blood coming from the cuts. It looked like she’d killed someone. 

Cradling her hand to her chest she made her way to the bathroom adjacent to the gym. She turned the tap on, waiting for the water to run clear before thrusting her hands under it to clean off the blood, barely flinching at the sting that came from cleaning out the gash. The sink turned a faded crimson from the amount of blood being washed from her hands. She felt numb, unbearingly so, it seemed the week had finally caught up with her, she felt as though she could curl up in a ball right now  and wake up a week later. So lost in her own thoughts and mesmerized by the blood flowing from her hands and into the sink, she failed to notice the presence behind her until it was too late.  One minute the cadet is watching her blood flow down the sink, the next her vision is fading to black. 

                                                      -------

Carrillo was fuming, muscles taught, hands curled tight  and ready to release upon the man before him. His jaw was clenched so tight he could hear his teeth grinding together. He took a step towards the man with the full intent of knocking his flat onto the floor, black out cold. And he would have too, if it wasn’t for the frantic knocking followed closely by Cadet Calliope all but throwing himself into the room. 

“Sir, come quick, it's Greyson” Calliope exclaimed. There was a frantic tone in his voice that snapped both men out of their grudge match. 

Carrillo spun to give the young man his full attention, before nodding at the recruit, “Lead the way Cadet” . They followed the cadet through the twists and turns of the hallways leading towards the medics bay. Upon seeing both officers the nurses rushed them through to her room. And there, laying almost deathly still, was Cadet Greyson. Gash above her eyebrow being stitched together as Carrillo watched on from the door. She looked nothing like the strong cadet he had seen perform all week. She looked fragile, too fragile. Not wanting to watch any further he pushed past Sinclair who was standing directly behind him, mouth agape, hands shaking and look like he might collapse himself.

Carrillo grabbed Calliope by the arm, pulling him down the hallway and into a spare room. He rounded on the cadet, finger pointed and eyes ablaze, as he hissed,  “Explain to me exactly what you know Cadet, and don’t you dare leave anything out” 

Cadet Calliope gulped, mouth suddenly dry. Well here goes nothing,  he thought

"What Happened to Belen?"

Thank you to @auteurdelabre for our beautiful coloring book! Pedge and I have had a few ups and downs over here, but are managing okay! A couple WIP's, currently re-reading the Women's Rights book, "What Happened to Belen?" as recommended by Papi Pascal. Pedge's Bookshop has decided to tackle the important literature with Javier Pena at our side. Seems like he has plenty to say about it...

“Maybe…” you whispered, his face softening ever so slightly in response. The shift was incremental, but noted nonetheless. “You can’t always judge a book by its cover”, the words fell out of your mouth sloppily, but with sincerity nonetheless. He stood up slightly taller, considering your words and looking at the magazine centerfold once again. “Too true, hermosa, too true” he seemed to acquiesce. closing the magazine definitively and looking at you with a new appraisal. “What are YOU reading?” he pointedly asked, allowing his eyes to meander over the totality of your body, as though still looking at the magazine contents. You shifted with an annoying arousal that you couldn’t quite shake, noticing the buttons of his shirt dangling precariously open revealing a sun-kissed, tanned torso. Stupid PMS. “Uh…” your brain stalled like a sputtering car as he smiled sweetly at your unravelling manner. “Pena” he held his hand out, wiping it deftly across the backside of his jeans and extending it forwards into your halting grasp. “Javier Pena” he matter-a-factly stated, his Adam’s apple bobbing strongly in his throat as a small trickle of sweat cascaded down his sternum. Holy hell. It must be hotter in here than you realized.

Pena's Playlist Spotify

I love combining reality with fantasy, and while I'm sure this isn't a new Tumblr concept, I'm going to be cataloguing our Pedro Boys as per Pedge's suggestions! All playlists will attempt to utilize music or groups that Pedro Pascal has referenced at some point. Get your headphones and enjoy!

Triggers: music may involve profanity and adult topics, short description of character's interactions with music, smut

Pedge's Jukebox

Pena's Playlist (Spotify)

*Pena who listens to music on the way to stressful DEA ops to distract himself *Rolls his eyes every time “La Bamba” comes on the radio, but mindlessly taps his foot regardless *Sits in the corner at the annual family potluck, listening to music and wishing he had someone to dance with *Endlessly annoyed with the elevator music playing at the DEA offices *Three whiskeys in at the bar, deluged with cigarette smoke and already horny *Favorite playlist for making love so he can sync his rhythm with song of choice *Blares the music loudly to cover sexy time sounds; NOT SUCCESSFUL *Can’t hold a melody to save his life, but can occasionally be found post coital in the shower, humming to himself in the steam *Loves hearing you sing under your breath in the kitchen as you prepare Ajaco. Secretly reminds him of his mother, but he will never say so

*thanks @strangergraphics-archive for the cool dividers!

Afterglow Series Workplace Benefits

*thank you @almostfoxglove for the sexy moodboard, I'm inspired!

The Afterglow Series is more focused on intimacy and unexpected situations, so please imbibe accordingly. Javier Pena is so voracious, I wanted to explore what would happen if he met his match.

Triggers: Prostitute POV, empowered woman in a safe transactional relationship w/ Javier Pena that evolves into more vulnerability, a little physical aggression, profanity, alcohol use, aftercare, crying (there's always crying), P in V, a little more smutty than most of my stuff, more valiant attempts at Spanish however inaccurate...

Series Masterlist

You loved your job. It wasn’t the type of thing you could easily discuss with your sister and the futbol moms. But you felt empowered as fuck, and prostitutes were more protected than ever. To be honest, you didn’t really think of yourself in those terms. What you thought of was the money and the sense of power you felt, holding important men, quite literally by the balls. And Javier Pena was one of them.

You’re not sure when, but at some point, things had begun to shift. At first, he came over for a quick whiskey and a fuck. And then one time, he arrived on your doorstep, already drunk and cuddly as a teddy bear. You don’t think he even remembered, leaving $100 bucks on your nightstand and thanking you for a “good time”. There was a routine of sorts, and sometimes he was flat out aggressive, but you never had a problem with that. As long as he paid, you were happy to incur a few bumps and bruises, and knowing he left happy, your income was relatively secure. But last week, he came by, perfectly sober and ready…to talk? It wasn’t a DTR, that would be ludicrous. He just wanted to talk. You kept trying to lure him to bed, but he endlessly deflected, making you laugh till you nearly snorted iced tea out of your nose, ordering  tacos from the seedy joint downstairs, and still leaving $100 bucks on the nightstand after you fell asleep watching tv. What the non-fuck was going on?

Today seemed like the routine as per usual. He’d shown up on your doorstep, raring to go, whiskey in hand and lust pouring from his steely gaze. Several breaks in, he’d enjoyed himself profusely and you found yourself being pounded from the back, as his sweaty hips thrashed against you loudly. Until….you had a problem. You were cumming.

The day had been fine, you’d already had several clients and were looking forward to seeing Javier in the evening. Feeling relaxed and unfocused you hadn’t realized your body was careening out of your control until this very moment. A quick surprising breath caught in your throat as you attempted to stifle a low moan…

“Que?” Javier questioned, as though telepathically linked to every nerve in your body.

You tried to play it off as one of your many performances, “Oh Javi more! So wet, so wet…” until you realized those statements weren’t a fabrication. Your legs were already trembling and the room was starting to spin around you.

“You like that, pobrecita?” he kept a relentless pace, jack hammering into you from behind. “You never tell me what you like…” he grunted appraisingly.

Your eyelids fluttered shut of their own volition as the silvery thread of arousal coursed through your veins fluidly. This can’t be happening, your mind stuttered, attempting to divorce yourself from the powerful sensations ebbing through your body. You prided yourself on your professionalism, but quite honestly, you didn’t get into this career for…sex. Most of the men that came to you were escaping a disappointing home life or were otherwise sexually unsuccessful, so their last concern was your pleasure, and that was fine for you. No reason you needed to be vulnerable in the workplace. The money was compensation enough and you could pleasure yourself on your own time. But Javier Pena wasn’t a regular guy, and when it came to sex, he was actually good at it. He came for his own pleasure, but that included yours, and he was down to try anything. Honestly, it was just a matter of time, but you had remained irresolute and focused up until now. And now, you were cumming.

The harder you tried to swat the idea away, the stronger the impulse grew. Small tendrils of pleasure that pulsed at your core, stuttered breaths that caught in your throat, whimpers of ecstasy that escaped from your mouth; Javier was devouring it like a man starved.

“There she is…” he drawled, grabbing you by the throat and hoisting you backwards until your back was pressed against his sweat glistened chest. “Are you going to cum for me, hermosa?” he panted into your ear, as you shook your head slowly.

“No, no, no” you had dropped all pretense of performance, realizing your body seemed to be acting of its own accord. You dropped your hands to your clit, rubbing in quick circles now desperate to get off.

“Mine” Javier growled into your ear, grabbing your wrists and yanking them around his neck as he angled up into you, harder still. You cried out in anguished ecstasy, confused at the unbidden sensations tingling throughout your being.

“M-m-more…” you began to mumble incoherently, no longer concerned with the loss of control, and only focused on your pleasure and nothing else.

Javi tipped you forward violently, re-situating himself in a seated position, and then abruptly pulled you back onto his lap, pistoning up into you at the most  delectable angle. Your entire body seized up in a pre-orgasmic throb. He gripped you tightly, calloused fingers palming your breasts, kneading and pinching as all thought left your mind completely. You were a ray of light, pleasure itself, his heat sheathed inside you, piercing the darkness and eradicating everything else. You’re not even sure if you spoke out loud, but the primal awareness that you were cumming, clouded time itself, until there was no denying it anymore. You threw your head back against his shoulder and cried in a silent scream, softening into a guttural moan of euphoria. Your body was fluid, liquid gold, dripping and melting over his hard figure. He worked you through your release until you pulled at the nape of his neck, weak with overstimulation. He drew his palm down the front of your salt soaked body and then flipped you around in a tangle of arms and legs, nearly collapsing on top of you, lowering you to the bed.

In the dull recesses of your mind you felt the throb of embarrassment, but not yet cognizant enough to grasp it with any enthusiasm. Holding onto your cloud of your contentment, you were vaguely aware of Javi’s absence, assuming he had left the appropriate amount of money on the bed stand and made a quick exit. You felt your heat twitching and throbbing with the loss of his presence, but thankful he had left you to your own mortification. It had been so long since you felt comfortable enough to enjoy yourself with someone else, you were nearly shocked it was still possible. You swallowed dryly, blinking away the tears. Damn endorphins, you sniffled, freezing as a figure appeared in the doorway with a washcloth and water.

“Drink, hermosa” he commanded as your eyes widened to saucer shape. He was still here. Was he angry? Did you just lose your best customer, and this was the swan song? Appraising your silence he brought the glass of water up to your parched lips tentatively, eyeing you with slight concern. You started shivering slightly as your body attempted to regulate itself into normalcy. “Are you hurt?” he demanded, sitting on the edge of the bed and lifting you to a seated position so you could drink.

You shook your head slowly, devoid of intelligence as the tears began to dry on your cheeks stickily. You flinched with surprise as he began rubbing down your legs and mid-section with the washcloth. “Shh, shh…” he shushed, as though coddling a small child as your body relaxed with relief and exhaustion.

“You don’t have to do that, Javi” you muttered softly, grabbing his wrist gently, but as yet unable to meet his eyes.

“Porque, eso cuesta mas?” he pondered, a small smirk shadowing his countenance.

“I’m not charging you for tonight” you murmured, turning your head away from him in defeat, until you felt him reach around and draw your chin back towards him.

He drew his thumb across your lower lip, not saying a word, a pained expression pinching at his eyebrows unexpectedly. “Inestimable” he whispered, almost to himself, kissing you lightly on the lips and withdrawing to the bathroom. You sunk down on the bed, unsure of what might happen next. Your ears were still ringing from the high, and your body felt like a heavy weight drawing you further into the mattress. You heard the soft click as Javier shut off the lights and crawled into bed with you tentatively.

“Puedo quedarme un poco mas?” he paused, his body hovering above yours.

You bit your lower lip in the dark, pondering the uncharted territory. No one ever asked to stay. Should you charge for that? Your thoughts were becoming more muddled and your eyelids heavier still, as you wordlessly tucked your body into the crook of his side, huffing a small sigh of defeat. No more thinking. Just sleeping. Javi wrapped his arms around you, breathing deeply at the crown of your forehead. 

“Smell good” he mumbled into your hair, as you started to drift into darkened oblivion. He was rocking you ever so slightly, and you didn’t have the energy to make any arguments whatsoever. You hadn’t felt this content in a very long time.

Swallowing dryly, your eyes blinked into the sunlight, hearing the motorcycles putter to life in the streets, and the vendors selling Cafe Caribe for the morning commuters. You sat up abruptly, reaching sideways to feel the cool sheets under your fingertips, noticing the hundred dollar bill grinning at you from the bed side table. Next to it, you saw the small cardboard cup, steaming with the chocolate aroma of your morning cafecito, note scribbled hastily across it…

“Thanks for the f@ck, hermosa. See you next week”. The small heart drawn in the corner winked at you as you smiled to yourself.

You loved your job.

*thanks @samspenandsword for the dividers!

Purple Rain (New York, New York Series)

You and Pedge go to the Brooklyn Museum of Art and Botanical Gardens. It's mostly a love letter to NYC and all us artists living the dream.

Triggers: profanity, discussion of orientation, reference to 9/11, lite smut, friends with benefits, RPF...

Series Masterlist

You were approaching your final week in the Big Apple and things were starting to come together. The show had finally progressed to a designer run, which happened to coincide with Pedro’s callback. You stood in the corner, fidgeting as family and friends cascaded into the small studio room and a table of creatives cast an intimidating presence over the entire proceeding. It was time. You were ready, but all the more nervous wondering what everyone would think. But honestly, there was only one opinion you truly cared about. You heaved a heavy sigh of disappointment, realizing THAT someone was missing, but desperately wanted to connect with your cast-mates before this final run. The cast gathered together for a quick circle-up, as the room began to silence in focus and artistry. Heading to your opening marks, you took a deep breath, closed your eyes, and gazing forward, happily saw a familiar figure sneak in through the closing door, quickly giving you a thumb’s up.

Pedge.

Merde.

Here we go…

The room had turned into a bit of a sauna, but the audience was gracious in their applause and congratulations as you hit your final bows. You made quick eye contact with Pedge, who gave you a wink and a nod, biting his lower lip with approval. Pausing before notes and feedback the room started to dissipate as cast members breathed a sigh of relief, ready to head into the out of town tech and eventual opening night. Pedge slung his backpack over his shoulder, shuffling towards you through a sea of excited individuals and laughing audience members. He approached with silent applause, mouth agape…

“Oh my gosh, you didn’t suck!!!” he joked, before crumpling under your playful barrage of punches and tickles. Gathering you up in an embrace and picking you up slightly he whispered in your ear. 

“That was fucking amazing. Way to go J” and your heart grew about three sizes. You breathed heavily in his arms, relieved that the most challenging aspect of the day was done. As he set you down, your eyebrows shot up to your forehead.

“Soooo…how’d it go? Am I watching you on Netflix AND HBO soon?” you clandestinely inquired, pulling Pedge over to a corner.

“Come on, this moment is about you” he deflected, but under your watchful gaze could see that you weren’t easily detoured.

“There were executives there” he chuckled.

“Really???” you squealed as he shushed you cautiously.

“Yeah, I must have missed that in translation. I thought I was just gonna be a place holder, but I was there for like an hour plus.”

“Geeeeeez” you intoned, nodding your head. “I’m already imagining the Narcos merch with your face plastered all over it”.

He rubbed his shoulder awkwardly, blushing slightly. “That doesn’t hardly seem likely” he rolled his eyes. “But it was nice to be taken seriously!” he leaned forward grasping you around the waist, “I think our scene work last night really made a difference”. You felt your heat twitch unexpectedly with the close proximity of his facial hair to your ear, and if the room hadn’t been so oppressively hot, you probably would have burst into goose bumps on the spot. You felt your face flush with arousal, hoping no one in the room would notice.

“I guess I have a job as an intimacy coach if this whole acting thing doesn’t work out” you smiled, locking eyes with him pointedly.

“Yeah, I might just have to utilize your personal expertise” he returned the smile as the production manager attempted to get control of the room.

“Okay, we are celebrating tonight, text me when you finish up. I’m taking you to the Brooklyn Museum of Art, and we can enjoy your last night in New York!”. Your heart dropped into your stomach, realizing the duality of the moment. You were excited to begin your big adventure but sad at the ever-changing landscape of the performance industry.

“Deal” you swallowed, thankful for the camaraderie and support, hoping he didn’t catch your eyes misting over with emotion. He kissed you on the cheek and made his way through the congratulatory sea of humanity. 

Your cast-mate immediately joined you in curiosity. “Ummm, who’s that cutie patootie?” he asked. “Bi, straight, boyfriend, husband, poly, trans, ace cookie?” he rattled off eliciting a small chuckle from you. You hadn’t really stopped to think about it during your quick friendship, and the theater crowd was a pretty…fluid…bunch. But catching Pedge’s eye before exiting the studio, he blew you a small kiss, as you and your cast mate both sighed reflexively.

“Who carezzzz?” you giggled simultaneously.

The day couldn’t have gone better, as far as you were concerned, but you found your mind wandering during notes and feedback. Final night in New York. Your heart lurched slightly at the realization that this magical leg of the journey was coming to a close. This wasn’t really a DTR moment, but how were you going to say goodbye? This entire trip had been bookended by an incredible friendship, and you couldn’t have been more grateful. You hoped Pedge was aware of that. Grabbing your script and notes you hurried out the door, heading back to your Airbnb to freshen up. You pulled a little purple sundress out of your suitcase, opting for boots over heels, having learned a painful lesson in the first week of slogging it through the Concrete Jungle. How were you going to say goodbye? It’s not like either of you had expected something different. Right? You tied your hair up with a colorful bow, texting Pedge to meet you at the Brooklyn Museum of Art in about an hour, and bounced out the door gleefully. 

You weren’t sure what constituted a New York state of mind, but this had to be close. The city had been nothing but welcoming to you, and after 9/11 it was so heartening to see the city back to its original fervor. You might have fallen in love in more ways than one, you beamed, heading down the stairwell to catch the train to the Brooklyn Museum of Art, wondering what expectations Pedge had, if any. This friendship had unlocked something inside of you that was exciting and new, but was it just another interaction in a city of strangers? You found yourself exiting the train station without entirely realizing how you had arrived at your location, besieged by thoughts and ruminations about what lay in store. Maybe you built up an entire New York fantasy in your own mind. Laughing in incredulity you exited the train station to find Pedge waiting at the entrance, hiding a bouquet of flowers and conspicuous balloon peaking out from behind his back. His beaming smile oscillated somewhere between boastful and shy as you took in his coifed appearance.

Lavender button down shirt, dark jeans, brown shoes, and a smile that would light up all of Time Square and beyond. You bit your lower lip in anticipation. Maybe you hadn’t misread the signals. Maybe this WAS something special. You swallowed dryly, nearly skipping up to him with excitement.

“It’s too much, right?” he blushed, outstretching his arms in supplication and shrugging placatingly.

“I think it’s just right” you hugged him around the waist, surprising him with your fervor. Looking up into his eyes, you held one another’s gaze for what felt like an eternity, moving closer and closer, like two small magnets. Just as his eyes fluttered shut, poised before your lips, a gust of wind blew the small balloon out of his hand and up into the stormy skies. He chuckled with surprise, grasping after it to no avail. Watching the little balloon drift higher and higher you questioned its surprising message dotting the horizon.

“Hope you feel better soon?” you giggled. “Is that all they had at Duane Reade?”.

“I meannnn….a designer run is a lot of work, I can only assume…we all want to feel better…all the time?” he laughed, tugging you around the waist and leading you into the Brooklyn Museum of Art. Handing off the flowers to an elderly couple on their way out you took Pedge’s hand, happy for these last moments in the city that had quite easily stolen your heart. This had truly been an amazing adventure, and Pedge had opened your heart to the wonders that could await someone living a life of freedom and creativity. The moment seemed to crackle with electricity, as you both spent the first thirty minutes, not saying very much. Stolen glances. Fingertips brushing. Blushing cheeks. It was all so delightful in its simplicity. Just two people. In a museum. Enjoying the moment.

Pausing in front of the Egyptian Collection you regarded his manicured appearance.

“You look real good, Pedge” you smiled. “Is there a special occasion?” you inquired.

He reddened slightly, tucking his hands in his back pockets. “Maybe. Wanted to celebrate your tour.” He rocked back and forth on his heels expectantly. “You did great today!” he smiled, deflecting the attention back on to you.

“Oh my gosh, you haven’t even told me about your callback!” your mouth dropped open with embarrassment, as a security guard shushed you. “And I didn’t even ask! I’m so sorry!” you whispered, “I want to hear everything!”

“Eh, not much to tell” he replied dolefully. “There WERE a number of executives there, which threw me off for a second. I don’t know why the agency didn’t mention that. Or maybe they did, and I was so nervous I forgot. We ran the scene, and it was fine, I guess. They only had a monitor, can you believe it? It was a good thing you and I rehearsed beforehand, it was like acting with a piece of cardboard this morning…” he rolled his eyes in frustration. “I don’t know how they expect us to elicit the kind of intimacy needed if I’m gonna be reading with an automaton!” he exclaimed, receiving a high spirited shushing from the same security guard.

You both started laughing profusely as you moved on to the American Art Display. Stopping in front of the “Unknown Woman” you gazed up at her enigmatic countenance and back at Pedge. “What do you think?” you asked light-heartedly, ready for another quick retort, but Pedge just kept staring and breathing deeply.

“I think…she knows something we don’t” he surmised, licking his lips tentatively.

“Really?” you questioned with curiosity, squinting into her unreadable facial expression, grasping at what little art knowledge you possessed.

“Yeah, she seems like…even though she’s mysterious, or translucent…or disappearing or something…there’s a contentment in that. She’s okay with it. She’s happy to just…be. Happy to be in the moment she’s in. Happy to be alive”.

“Yeah” you nodded, sighing deeply, and then, surprised to discover that Pedge was no longer looking at the artwork but gazing intently at you.

“Remind you of anyone?” you joked, dipping a finger into his front jean pocket and pulling slightly.

He took a jerky step towards you, nearly bumping into your chest. “Not off the top of my head” he teased quizzically, eyebrows arching up the ceiling.

You smiled with self-deprecation, feeling a shift in your tonality. “I’m sad to be leaving tomorrow” looking around the relatively empty room with a little melancholy and fidgeting with discomfort. “I’m not sure I could have done this without you, Pedge. Just a California girl, I guess”.

He brought his hand up, tilting your chin towards his, “My pleasure” he tutted “You just needed a little push. And a subway map! Geez woman, you DO get lost everywhere, don’t you?” he laughed, tucking that pesky lock of hair behind your ear once again. You smiled broadly without argument. It was true. Perhaps geographically challenged, but intuitively able to find exactly where you needed to be, and who you wanted to be with. Enjoying the journey just as much as the destination. You took his hand tenderly, bringing it up to your heart. “Well, not all who wander are lost. I just want you to know, I really appreciate it”. Momentarily dumbfounded, he smiled simply, bringing your hand up to his mouth for a quick kiss. 

Heading out of the museum, Pedge looked up into the stormy skies. “Geez, looks like New York isn’t entirely happy about your leaving” he pondered, biting his lower lip in confusion. “I’d thought we could go to the Botanical Gardens, but now I’m not sure!”. The sky rumbled with a bit of foreboding.

“Let’s go!” you exclaimed, pulling him forward amidst the steadily growing winds and darkening skies. “I’m not leaving without one more adventure!” He laughed appraisingly as you skipped down the street with abandon. Pedge had unlocked your heart in a way nobody else had. Who knows, maybe New York had something to do with that too. All you knew was that you were happy, you were grateful and you were ready. Ready for what, you weren’t entirely sure, but enjoying the journey as much as the destination. You headed into the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens feeling a few fat droplets of rain punctuate the ground rhythmically.

“So far so good?” Pedge questioned, breathing in the saturated grass and darkening sidewalks. You began strolling through the Fragrance Garden, Celebrity Path, Daffodil Hilll…

Pedge paused in his steps to cast his arms out to the side in frivolity. “We’ve got the whole gardens to ourselves!” he shouted, cringing upon hearing a booming, thunderous clap above him.

You brought a hand to your mouth in playful chagrin, wondering at heaven’s response. “We might be running out of time Pedge!” you shouted, walking backwards towards the Japanese Hill and Pond Garden. Pedro’s eyes widened to saucer size, running towards you and grabbing you around the waist before you nearly fell over backwards into the Koi Pond. You both started laughing hysterically as another thunderous BOOM! led to an immediate downpour. Giggling with surprise you grasped hands, slipping and sliding to the nearest botanical hot house and flinging the door open to humid, fragrant heat. Your laughter slowed to a halt as Pedge found both arms wrapped around your waist in dripping anticipation. The heavy patter of rain rhythmically lulled you both into a hypnotic silence as Pedge began swaying from side to side.

“What are you doing?” you whispered, unwilling to break the magnetic connection between you.

“Just wanted a dance” he whispered back, pulling you in closer and taking a deep breath at the crook of your neck.

“Pedge….” you allowed yourself a moment of enjoyment, listening to the rain pitter patter above you as heaven roared dully in protestation. “I’m leaving tomorrow….what does this even mean?”

He pulled back for a second taking your chin lightly between his thumb and forefinger. “It doesn’t HAVE to mean anything” he pondered, plastering a dopey smile across his face. “It’s just a moment, and we can decide whatever we want.” You smiled in recognition, giving in to any last minute hesitations and melding your body against his. Swaying back and forth you caught a quick refrain of his humming.

“Is that Prince?” you muttered into his shoulder, smelling his deodorant and cologne in a heady, rain soaked musk. Pedge suddenly pulled back abruptly, shaking you gently by the shoulders and shouting for high heaven, “ONLY WANT TO SEE YOU DANCING IN THE PURPLE RAIN!!!!”

Purple Rain

Your mouth dropped open in surprise before joining him, “PURPLE RAIN! PURPLE RAIN! PURPLE RAIN, PURPLE RAIN!”. You chuckled, lightly fingering the buttons at his lavender shirt, becoming slightly intoxicated on the seductive mist of rain, flowers and dirt. And then it was happening. You weren’t thinking. You were being drawn towards one another, without time, space or intentionality. You were kissing. You were breathing each other in and out. Lips locked in the wet ambition of desire, you drew your arms around him, tucking your hands into the back pockets of his jeans and grasping lightly. Pedge’s hips jerked forward in surprise as he grinned into your mouth with delight.

“What does THAT mean?” he joked softly, as a blush began creeping up your cheeks with embarrassment, noticing the stiffening length outlined against his pants.

“I think our intimacy exercises are paying off?” you tittered back at him, pressing in for another kiss before jolting with surprise. “Is that your phone vibrating, or are you just happy to see me?” you taunted, gripping his lower lip between your teeth gently.

“Soooooo not important” Pedge growled, dipping his tongue tentatively into your mouth, and then with more fervor.

“Pedggggge” you moaned, sighing contentedly and then pulling back. “It could be important…”.

He paused, with eyes closed, breathing deeply until you both met each others’ intense gaze.

“NARCOS!” you both exclaimed. Pedge fumbled for the phone, attempting to wrestle it out of his front pocket which was irritatingly rain soaked. You both clawed at the space, laughing nervously as the phone nearly slipped from his desperate grasp. You began jumping up and down, clapping your hands quickly in anticipation.

“This is Pedro Pascal, how may I direct your call?” he intoned with a devious smirk.

You stilled completely, trying to read every micro-expression. He turned his back quietly to you responding in almost conspiratorial undertones, “Really? Yes. Okay. Got it. Alright. I think I understand. Thank you”. And then the call was done.

He stood with his back to you, completely still as you swallowed loudly, frozen smile stuck to your face. “WELL???” you finally shouted, matched only by the corresponding BOOM that thudded heavily in the distance. You fixed yourself to rush into his arms in congratulatory embrace, until he turned with an unreadable expression save for the swimming pools of emotion in his chocolate-colored eyes.

“It’s a no” he said, a bit numbly, and in apparent defeat. “I didn’t get it”.

*Spoiler Alert: I feel like things might improve for our hero, but you don't have to take MY word for it.

Javier Peña + anger