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[antifainternational]

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[the-hinky-panda]

Mariposa: Part III

Pairing: Horacio Carrillo x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: This is a four-part prequel to “Dustland Fairytale.” There is no Javier Pena x Reader in this fic; it is strictly a Carrillo x Reader fic. You’re a CIA informant that is trying to build the trust between the newly formed Search Bloc and the CIA/DEA. You just never imagined that falling in love with Colonel Horacio Carrillo was going to be part of the deal.

Warnings: Oh boy, lots of warnings. First 18+ only, DNI. If it was in Narcos, it will most likely be mentioned in here: gun violence, mentions of rape (what happened to Helena), characters dying, grief. Also, Carrillo is married so the relationship between him and the reader is an extramarital affair.

Tag List: @the-ginger-hedge-witch @vanemando15 @1950schick @bellestalesoffiction @frannyzooey @littleone65 @harriedandharassed

“These violent delights have violent ends. And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, which as they kiss consume.”

“Profe, ¿qué significa eso?” (Teacher, what does that even mean?)

You sigh. “Significa que las emociones extremas, particularmente las que causan un comportamiento precipitado, pueden arruinar tu vida. Que esas decisiones son combustibles y destructivas.” (It means that extreme emotion, particularly ones that cause rash behavior, can ruin your life. That those decisions are combustible and destructive.)

“¿Como una cerilla y pólvora?” (Like a match and gunpowder?)

“Precisamente.” (Precisely.)

The bell rings and the students pack up their bags, stack the worn copies of Romeo and Juliet on the back shelf before leaving the room to start their weekend. You sit down at your desk and grab your coffee. It’s cold by now but the caffeine is needed. You’ve been up most nights this week listening to wiretaps and reviewing reports. Escobar is on the run. Police officers are being killed daily. It’s been absolute fucking chaos.

Damn Shakespeare. Whenever a student asks why they need to study Shakespeare, in Colombia nonetheless, you always have an answer ready for them: Shakespeare is known worldwide. His plays are timeless because the themes still apply to today. We can learn from the mistakes of his characters. And as you stare down at those words, you feel like Shakespeare is laughing at you from beyond the grave.

Violent delights do indeed have violent ends.

This is the lesson you have learned the hard way in the last eight months. The CIA transferred you from Bogotá to Medellín. The timing is more than suspicious. Horacio gets reassigned to Madrid and two weeks later, you’re moving into a  Medellín barrio. You quickly come to find out, it’s not the worst move. Trujillo lives a few blocks away and frequently checks on you, to the point that his mother has taken pity on you and your kitchen skills. She makes extra food for dinner and passes it off to you but you must attend cooking classes with her on Sunday. Your empanadas are coming along nicely though.

Horacio’s successor, Colonel Augusto Pinzon, is a stubborn, arrogant man with a strong distaste for Americans. You’ve tried setting up a couple meetings with him to pass along intel and you have yet to officially meet him. He either doesn’t show or sends someone else to pick up the intel. This isn’t working and when you report that to Stechner, he tells you that Pinzon is freezing out the DEA as well and not to take it personally. But how can you not when more and more police are killed daily and your intel could save some of them? So after dinner one Sunday, you offer to clean up dishes and enlist Trujillo’s help so you can talk business without the family overhearing. He catches on immediately to the purpose for both of you to be in the narrow kitchen.

“Speak in English,” he tells you. “They won’t be able to keep up if they’re eavesdropping.”

You fill up the sink with soapy water and grab a dishrag. “Pinzon won’t work with me, at all.”

He frowns. “I know. He won’t work with Peña or Murphy either. At least, he’s not being helpful. They keep asking for men to help with raids and he won’t let us go.”

“He has to know we’re all working towards the same goal? The sooner we get Escobar behind bars, the sooner the massacres will stop.” You rinse a couple plates and hand them to him to dry. “How many friends have you lost?”

“Too many.”

“What if I gave you the intel and you gave it to Pinzon? Don’t tell him it came from me.”

“And if he asks where I got it from?”

“Will he ask that?”

Trujillo stacks the plates in the cupboard. “He may. He’s under the idea that the Americans are going to take all the credit for Escobar’s capture. Anything that might be helpful, he wants to make sure it’s the Colombian army that gets the credit.”

“My God, that is not how you win a war.” It’s how you lose one but you don’t want to voice that thought aloud. “Well, tell him a local gave you the intel. Tell him a horse gave it to you, I don’t care what you tell him, just get him the information. We have to stop the bleeding somehow.”

“I’ll pass along anything and everything you give me.” He sighs. “That’s all we can do right now.”

You wash a few more dishes before asking another question that has been weighing on your mind. “Have you heard from him at all?”

Trujillo shakes his head. “No, not at all. They’re probably monitoring his calls from Spain. Making sure he stays out of what’s happening here.”

“This is all my fault.” You grind your teeth together to keep from saying anything else. You hadn’t meant to say that but Trujillo’s hand comes down on your shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze.

“You were the best thing to happen for him. For all of us.”

“But they sent him away because-”

“Because he was being effective. Your intel, his methods, the DEA’s investigations, and the army’s force scared all the right people. Unfortunately, those people were in positions to separate everyone that could bring down the Medellín cartel. They’re more scared of them than us.”

“‘“When you fear a foe, fear crushes your strength; and this weakness gives strength to your opponents.’”

“Is that from one of your books?”

“Shakespeare, yeah.” You finish the last of the dishes and drain the water out of the sink. “We’re going to have to work around Pinzon. Will the DEA agents work with you?”

“They will. They’re just as frustrated as we are.”

“Then let’s use that frustration to our advantage. Pinzon won’t be able to withstand the pressures, especially if he keeps shutting everyone out. It’s going to cause division in the Search Bloc though.”

Trujillo leans back on the counter. “Will it get him out of the position?”

“His men divided, choosing to follow the gringos over him, to catch Escobar? Oh, it shouldn’t take long for the pressure to get to him. His ego is too fragile.”

“Okay, that’s what we’ll do.” He nods, and looks out the window. “If Carrillo were still here, Escobar would leave Columbia. He wouldn’t risk being found by Search Bloc. He knows what we did to Gustavo was just a promise of what we would do to him. We need Carrillo back.”

You agree, whole-heartedly. It’s not just the physical interactions you miss, although you would do just about anything to feel his hands on you again, but it’s the partnership you both had. You spent hours listening to wiretaps, taking notes, playing chess during the quieter places in the tapes. His mind was constantly planning, scrutinizing, picking information apart and choosing which parts were useful and then plugging them into his strategy. It was no wonder the generals were afraid of him and sent him out of the country.

“I agree,” you say quietly. “But it’s going to take something large scale to scare President Gaviria into bringing him back.” And you certainly didn’t want to bear witness to whatever travesty that was going to be.

***

It didn’t take long for Pinzon to realize some of the intel that was being handed to him was coming from a CIA informant. It caused a greater rift between his officers, like Trujillo, and the DEA. More officers were being killed on the streets of Medellín and you are almost at your breaking point. Last night, you had been drunk, missing Horacio, livid at Pinzon’s incompetence, and ended up calling Stechner.

“I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.”

He sighed, like he was dealing with a five year old having a tantrum. “Suck it up, sweetheart. This is part of the job.”

“I’m useless here. Pinzon won’t-”

“You don’t worry about Pinzon. Pinzon’s going to wear himself out. You keep passing intel.”

“To who? No one that can do a fucking thing is getting it!”

“That’s not your job. Keep the intel flowing.”

“Even if it’s going nowhere?”

“Now you’re getting it. Look, your job is simple: teach, listen, and report. That’s it. Carrillo somehow convinced you that you were a soldier in this war and that’s not true. You are a civilian with sharp ears. That’s it. You’re sad? Frustrated? Sick of the violence? Do what we all do, get drunk, get fucked and get over it. Find yourself another officer and get under him. And if that doesn’t work, I don’t know. Change your fucking hairstyle.”

You hung up on him. But he didn’t call you back so you assume since he didn’t get your resignation by the next morning, you decided to keep going. And you had. Despite the raging hangover, you go into the classroom and continue to teach the tragedy of two teenagers who thought they were invincible only to be faced with the crashing reality that they were just as insignificant as everyone else. Death came for them, as it does for everyone. That’s why, when you drag yourself home and see Trujillo sitting on the stairs leading up to your apartment, your stomach drops. Who is dead now? And how many of them this time?

“Hola, Profesora.” (Hello, Teacher.)

“Hola, oficial. ¿A qué debo esta visita?” (Hello, Officer. To what do I owe this visit?)

“Tengo una sorpresa para ti.” (I have a surprise for you.)

You stop a couple stairs away from where he’s standing. This is new. “¿Qué?” (What?)

The briefest of smiles tugs at the corner of his mouth before he climbs the few stairs up to your door. You watch as he pulls out a key and unlocks the door.

“Uh, why do you have a key to my apartment?”

He shrugs. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh, I’m going to worry about this.”

He grins over his shoulder at you. “Not for long, you won’t,” he says as he opens the door and steps inside.

You follow him over the threshold and into your living room, convinced you’re dreaming. There is no way, no reason, for Horacio Carrillo to be standing in the middle of the room. Trujillo hands him the key and turns to leave, pinching your arm as he passes by you.

“Di algo, hermana.” (Say something, sister.)

You try, you really do, but your mind is still trying to process how he is real and standing before you. You hear the door close as Trujillo leaves and it startles you out of your shock. “You’re really here?”

“I am,” he smiles at you but doesn’t move any closer. “¿Estás bien?” (Are you well?)

“Yes. I, uh, I am. And you?”

“Soy bueno.” (I’m good.)

You’re afraid to move, fearing that if you do, he’ll disappear. But standing still is starting to get awkward. Not to mention the shock of seeing him is starting to wear off and the pounding behind your eyeballs from your hangover is starting to come back. “Do you want a drink?”

He nods. “Sure.”

You force your feet to move and go into the kitchen. You still have a bottle of aguardiente in your cabinet and pour two tumblers of it. He follows you into the narrow space and he’s so close to you now that it makes it hard to breathe. “How’s, uh, how’s your wife and kids?”

“Good,” he answers, taking a sip of the drink. “They’re still in Madrid.”

And he’s wearing his wedding ring which means they’ll be coming back to Colombia. “For how long?”

“Until we catch Escobar.”

You almost choke on your drink. “That could take months.”

“It could.” He leans against the refrigerator. “So you live in Medellín now.”

“Yeah, they moved me here shortly after…” You can’t bring yourself to finish the question. After you left.

He hums in acknowledgement and knocks back the alcohol in one go. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“No, I’m not.”

His mouth is on yours before you realize he’s moved. His hands pull you tight against him, still solid muscle from head to toe, and hold you against his chest. His tongue invades your mouth and you welcome it as your hands relearn the feel of his hair against your fingers. Having him against you after months of being apart is like the moment when a thunderstorm finally breaks and the heavy humidity dissipates, leaving the air cool and fresh. The sadness at his departure has broken and the relief of his presence brings fresh hope.

You know you’ve missed him, but the sharp sting of tears behind your eyes tells you the emotion went deeper than that. You grieved him, the loss of the relationship. Somewhere between you throwing up in a dumpster to saying goodbye to him when he left for Madrid, you had grown from partners, to friends, to lovers. The progress had been so incredibly smooth, he had just become an extension of you. His absence had been that of a missing limb, at times you could still feel him there only to realize he was gone. But he has returned and you wonder now how long it will take for you two to regain that lost ground of your relationship.  

He  backs you up to the small kitchen table and lifts you up onto it like you weigh nothing. Your legs automatically wrap around his waist and pull him closer to you. This is familiar. The tang of cologne and cigarettes, the feel of his muscles under your hands. His mouth slides from yours and ascends up your neck with a mixture of licks and nips. He reaches your ear and gently closes his teeth around the cartilage as he whispers to you.

“Te he extrañado mucho, mi amor.” (I’ve missed you so much, my love.)

“Yo también te he extrañado. Sueño contigo a menudo.” (I’ve missed you too. I dream of you often.)

His hands are everywhere, trying to get under the neckline of your dress or under the skirt, desperately seeking out any skin he can find. “¿Y tú con qué sueñas?” (And what do you dream of?)

You tug his shirt loose and slip your hands under the fabric and over the skin of his back with a contented sigh. “Este. Estás volviendo a mí.” (This. You coming back to me.)

“Estoy aquí, Mariposa.” (I’m here, Butterfly.)

You have so many questions for him. How long is he here for? Why is he here? What happened to bring him back? But all those questions can wait. You grab his belt buckle and undo it while his hands slide under your skirt and pull your panties down your legs, dropping them to the floor. Your hand wraps around him and he’s already hard and solid in your palm. His head drops to your shoulder with a groan as two of his fingers slide into you with ease.

“So wet for me, querida.”

You wrap your hand around his length and stroke him a couple times, forcing your mouth to work. “I told you I missed you. Seems like you missed me too.”

He lifts his head and pushes your skirt out of the way as you line him up to your entrance. He takes his time to slowly sink into you and you both breathe sighs of relief when he’s fully inside. His mouth finds yours again and the kisses are sloppy but full of barely contained joy at the reunification. He palms your breasts through your clothes and you grab fistfuls of his cotton dress shirt, looking for something to hold on to as he starts to move.

It doesn’t take long for his thrusts to quicken and have more power behind them. The desperation is evident in every snap of his hips. It gets harder for you to hold on to him, so you lay back on the table, reaching behind you to grab the edge. His hands are on your hips, pulling you towards him as he relentlessly pounds into you. Your thighs are trembling from gripping his waist but you feel that low warmth in your stomach starting to blossom. Your grip on the table allows you to push against him with each thrust. You’re both chasing your ends now and the force he’s using makes you grit your teeth to keep them from gnashing together. “I’m going to-”

“Me too,” he grits out.

He removes one of his hands from your hip, his thumb immediately finding your clit and slowly rubbing it. You back arches off the wooden table as your orgasm rips through your body. Horacio lets loose a string of profanity in Spanish as he comes just as violently. He falls forward, covering your body with his own, panting against your neck.

You wrap your arms around him, holding him close, so when he does straighten up, he takes you with him. You stay tucked under his chin, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne. You’re both damp from both your activity but also the humidity in the air. You don’t care though. His pulse beats against your temple, his heart under your palm. His hand spans the breadth of your ribcage and his other is in your hair, his fingers gently massaging your scalp. It’s as if neither one of you can get close enough to the other.

“I thought about you everyday,” you whisper.

“I did the same.” He presses his lips against your forehead. “Te amo, querida.”

“Te amo, Horacio.” It feels so good to say those words again.

He kisses your cheek before pulling away and you both take a few minutes to clean up and resituate your rumpled clothing. You refill the glasses and sit on the couch. You try to remain professional, or at least adult-like, but he pulls you closer to him until your head is resting on his shoulder and his hand, as always, lays on your side. You enjoy a few moments of quiet, of peace, before asking questions about the war zone outside in the streets.

“So Gaviria brought you back to catch Escobar?” you ask.

“Yes. He had to when Pinzon resigned.”

“Wait, what?!” You sit up straight so you look him in the eye. “Pinzon resigned?!”

“Yesterday morning.” He gives you a shit-eating grin. “What? You didn’t know that?”

“No! How did I…why didn’t…” you’re stunned. “Trujillo…”

“Was told to keep it a secret. I only got wind of it two days ago. Pinzon was showing signs of cracking. He was cleaning out files, stashing evidence, and stopped communicating with the unit. Added to the continued attacks on the police, the body count was getting too high to justify. So Gaviria called me and said he wanted me to replace Pinzon when the official resignation came through. Apparently it did yesterday morning.”

“This is awfully big news to keep quiet.”

“We had to,” he pulls out a cigarette and lights it up. “If Pablo got wind of Search Bloc not having a commander for 36 hours, he would have blown the headquarters to smithereens.”

So that answers another question of yours. “So you report tomorrow morning?”

“I do.”

He’s quiet for a moment, studying your face. You know he’s already strategizing for something. “What are you planning now?”

He sighs, releasing a long stream of smoke. “People know me here, much more than they did in Bogotá.”

You take the cigarette from him and take a drawl before handing it back. “We’re going to have to be more discreet. That’s why Trujillo gave you a key.”

“Yes. So now that you know I can let myself in when it’s safe.” He winks at you. “Don’t confuse me for an intruder and shoot me.”

“Head of the Search Bloc gunned down by teacher in barrio apartment. Not exactly a glorious end to your career.”

“No, not at all.” He leans down and kisses you briefly. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you.”

You smile up at him and return the kiss. “I think I do.”

***

Coronel Carrillo’s return certainly put a buzz around the school. Every corner you turned, students and staff alike were talking about it. The feelings seemed to be pretty fairly split down the middle. Half were happy to see his return, certain that he would bring Pablo Escobar to justice. Half were scared that they or their families were going to get caught in the crossfire during the manhunt.

“¿Profe?” (Teacher?)

“Sí.” (Yes.)

“¿Se enteró de lo que pasó ayer en el Barrio Escobar?” (Did you hear about what happened in Barrio Escobar yesterday?)

You did actually, from Horacio himself and a grinning Trujillo. You had to admit, arriving with a hundred police officers and then urinating on the mural did, in fact, get a very clear message across. But you school your face to remain neutral in light of the question. “Sí, lo hice.” (Yes, I did.)

The teenage boy, Diego, shrugs. “¿Entonces, qué piensas?” (So, what do you think?)

It’s a trap, pure and simple. He’s been one that you’ve had an eye on for the last few weeks. He doesn’t say much, keeps to himself, but you watch his reactions to the students around him. He’s recruiting, shifting through those he can pull into whatever gang he’s creating. And now, he’s testing you as only a sixteen year old can: a public challenge in front of his peers and all eyes are on you. Luckily, this isn’t your first rodeo.

“Creo que el Coronel Carrillo tiene una sólida comprensión del simbolismo. Tal vez debería hacer que viniera y enseñara Romeo y Julieta.” (I think Colonel Carrillo has a solid understanding of symbolism. Maybe I should have him come in and teach Romeo and Juliet.)

Most of the class laughs at your comment but there are a few who don’t. You make a mental note to record those names. “Bien, guarda los eventos actuales para estudios sociales. Volvamos a nuestros adolescentes enamorados.” (Okay, let’s save the current events for social studies. Let’s get back to our love sick teenagers.)

The day carries on as normal after that until the last class of the day. You’re helping a student find a line in the play so they can reference it in the paper they’re writing on the theme when you return to your desk with a small note half-way hidden under your well-worn copy of the play. You lift up the book to read the note.

No bebas tu agua. (Don’t drink your water.)

So you don’t. You carry on with the rest of class and wait till all the students leave. You pick up the bottle, with the note, and carry both down to the office, asking to speak to the principal. Of course, the principal is about as helpful as Pinzon, given that you’re new to the school, an American, and a woman. It is the unholy trifecta. Thankfully, the secretary takes pity on you and calls the police directly. Slipping her five hundred pesos also helps get the call made. You sit in the office and wait for someone to show up, having to hide your relief when Trujillo walks into the office.

The principal of course comes out and tells Trujillo nothing is wrong, just a scared American having a prank pulled on them. However, Trujillo takes the bottle and says that he’s going to check it out just in case the prank happens to be more sinister and asks you to join him outside to fill out a report. You follow him out to the car and see Horacio sitting in the front seat.

“I’m honored you showed up in person,” you say, leaning on the open window.

“A teacher being threatened by students, that’s a big offense.”

“Possible threat,” you correct.  

Trujillo sets the bottle down and opens the lid. Horacio gets out of the car and picks up a water bottle from the car, moving you out of the way. When he spills some water over your bottle, the entire thing fizzes and erupts, all three of you jumping out of the way of the liquid.

“Holy shit,” you mutter.

“Sulfuric acid most likely,” Horacio says. “Probably grabbed it from the chemistry lab.”

“That would have fucking killed me if I drank it!”

Horacio is staring down at the still fizzing acid, his jaw clenched. You know he’s once again trying to figure out the best way to handle this. “¿Como esta el director?” (How’s the principal?)

Trujillo frowns. “No se preocupa. Dijo que solo era una estadounidense asustada.” (Not concerned. Said she was just a scared American.)

“Supongo que le haré saber que tiene motivos para estarlo. Trujillo, ve a buscar sus cosas de su cuarto y luego llévala a mi casa, aunque por la parte de atrás.” (I guess I’ll let him know she has reason to be. Trujillo, go grab her things from her room and then take her to my house, through the back though.)

You tell Trujillo your room number and that you just need your purse. Horacio opens the passenger side door of the police Jeep, which you eye warily. “You sure this is wise?”

“What?”

“Taking me to your house?”

“Think of it as protective custody until we figure out why they targeted you. Is it because you’re their teacher or do they know something more?”

You’re still leaning on the side of the vehicle. “So you would do this for any teacher that receives a threat like this?”

“Any teacher that’s also a CI, yes.”

He means it too. You don’t need to see his eyes, which are hidden behind the reflective aviators at the moment. It’s the muscles around his mouth that betray him and they haven’t so much as twitched. You climb into the car and he shuts the door. “There are a couple students you may want to track down. I have their names in a notebook in my purse.”

“What happened?” He’s now leaning on the open window.

“They asked me if I knew what happened the other day in the barrio. I told them yes and that you seemed to understand the power of symbolism. There were a couple kids who didn’t appreciate the joke.”

“We’ll start with them,” he nods. “Spotters are becoming a big issue right now. A lot of sicarios are using local kids to act as spies for the cartel. They’re using a fairly extensive radio system to report police movement around Medellín. He could be one of them. Name?”

You nod. “Diego Juarez. And that sounds like something he might be involved in. He’s been paying very close attention to his peers and their reactions to news that involves the cartel. He’s the one that asked me today if I knew what happened.”

“I’ll get your rosters from the Principal. You call Stechner from my house, let him know what happened. I’ll see if Peña or Murphy can help with interviewing the kids.”

Trujillo comes out of the school with your bag in his hand and immediately gets into the driver’s seat. You pull out your notebook and tear the page out with the student’s names from earlier in the day and hand it to Horacio. He looks at it and puts it into his pocket. He points to the phone and you hand it to him. He walks away from the car for a couple minutes while he speaks to someone before bringing the phone back.

“Murphy is coming to help go through the rosters. I’ll ride back to Search Bloc with him.”

Trujillo leans forward in his seat. “¿Quieres que vuelva?” (Do you want me to come back?)

Horacio shakes his head. “No. Quédate con ella hasta que yo llegue.” (No. Stay with her until I get there.)

You give him a cheeky grin. “¿Tiene miedo de robar cosas, Coronel?” (Afraid I’m going to steal stuff, Colonel?)

He gives you a pseudo-irritated look. “Bueno, ahora lo soy.” (Well, now I am.)

“Supongo que tendrás que cachearme cuando llegues a casa.” (Guess you’re just going to have to frisk me when you get home.)

Trujillo groans. “Ustedes dos son los peores.” (You two are the worst.)

You watch the slightest of smiles twitch at the corner of Horacio’s mouth. He taps the car twice and Trujillo drives off. The trip to Horacio’s house takes almost fifteen minutes and it’s in a nicer section of Medellín but certainly not fancy. Trujillo parks the car in the alley behind the home and radios to the officer stationed at the front before you get out of the car to alert him that there’s going to be approved movement in the house. You follow Trujillo through the back gate and into a small, well-manicured yard. He takes out a set of keys and unlocks the backdoor.

“You just have a key to all of our homes, don’t you?”

He smiles. “The price of being a secret keeper.”

“Thank you, for that,” you say sincerely.

He nods in acknowledgement and opens the door for you. It leads directly into a well lit kitchen that is gleaming white tile and cabinets. It’s absolutely spotless which doesn’t surprise you in the least but it’s still something to behold.

“¿Alguna vez has estado aquí?” (Have you ever been here?)

“No.”

“Anda, mira a tu alrededor. Voy a ver si tiene comida.” (Go, look around. I’ll see if he has any food.)

You open a swinging door that leads into a dining area and then into a front formal living room. The curtains are all pulled tight so no one can see into the house. You wander past the front door and into a more casual living area with a den connected to it. The den looks more like Horacio: leather bound books, maps laid out on the desk, and a tape player with headphones.

Trujillo comes to stand next to you and hands you a beer. “¿Ver? No eres el único que trae obras a casa.” (See? You’re not the only one who brings work home.)

You take the beer. “Is this why you have our keys? You break in and drink our booze?”

He smiles at you. “It’s not breaking in if you have a key.”

***

It’s almost midnight by the time Horacio arrives home. He and Murphy had spent most of the evening talking to students and their families. You were right to be suspicious of Diego; he threw off all kinds of warning signs, as did his parents. But by the time he finishes the interviews, compares notes with Murphy, files reports, and picks up some of your belongings from your apartment, it’s much later than he thought. When he walks through the door, Trujillo is watching the news on the television from one of the armchairs while you are sound asleep on the couch.

He nods to Trujillo as he drops your bag at the foot of the stairs and goes into the kitchen, Trujillo following him.

“¿Como es ella?” Horacio asks, pouring a hefty amount of aguardiente into a glass. (How is she?)

“Asustado. Más de lo que deja ver.” (Scared. More than she lets on.)

“Ella tiene una buena razón. Diego Juárez es uno de nuestros observadores, si no uno de los líderes. Estoy seguro de ello.” (She has good reason. Diego Juárez is one of our spotters, if not one of the leaders. I’m certain of it.)

Trujillo nods. “¿Tenemos un plan para comenzar a rastrear a los observadores?” (Do we have a plan to start tracking the spotters?)

Horacio yawns and rubs a hand over his face. “Estoy trabajando en uno. Peña y Murphy van a estar mañana en Search Bloc. Lo discutiremos juntos.” (I’m working on one. Pena and Murphy are going to be at Search Bloc tomorrow. We’ll discuss it together.)

“Bueno. Duerma un poco, Coronel.” (Okay. Get some sleep, Colonel.)

“Tú también, hermano.” (You too, brother.)

Trujillo leaves out the back door and Horacio locks it behind him. He pours another glass of alcohol before going back to the living room. You’re still sound asleep on the couch, covered with a cotton blanket, the tv the only light in the room. He decides to leave you there for now, grabs your bag and heads upstairs. He goes into his bedroom and sees your clothes from the day neatly folded and stacked on the chair in the corner so he sets your bag down there. When he grabs clean clothes to change into, he notices one of his t-shirts and a pair of sweatpants are missing.

His shower is quick and he tries to solidify the plan for later on today. They’ll send out a few cars at night. It’ll be Saturday night and most of the spotters will be out on the streets with their friends. They’ll use unmarked cars, four men in each. They’ll hit the areas on the map where Jacoby, the intel specialist assigned to Search Bloc, had marked off where the transmissions appeared to be coming when they did the run to Barrio Escobar. They’ll gather as many of them up as possible, put the fear of God in them, and send them back home to tell their friends to stay out of the drug war for as long as they can. He towels off and pulls on a clean t-shirt and a pair of boxers before going back downstairs.

You’re still sound asleep, curled on your side, hands tucked under your cheek. He turns the hallway light on so there’s some light after he turns off the television. He’s not that stupid to wake you up in a pitch black room, just his form looming over you. So he bends down and runs his fingers across your check, brushing back strands of hair that have fallen across your face.

“Mariposita?”

You huff indignantly and furrows appear in your forehead. Have you always looked this young? Or is he just getting too old to be fighting this war? He gently pulls back the blanket and folds it. Sure enough, your frame is swimming in one of his shirts and sweatpants. He takes both of your arms, sitting you upright, so he can scoop you up bridal style and carry you to bed. By the time he’s made it to the foot of the stairs, you’re starting to come out of your sleep.

“‘Ratio?”

“Yes?”

That must have been enough of an answer as you lay your head against his collarbone and drape your arms over his shoulders. He lays you down on the bed and pulls the sheet and blankets over you. Your eyes open, blinking slowly as a smile creeps across your face. He sits down on the side of the bed and holds the side of your face in his hand.

“Am I dreaming?” you ask so sweetly.

“No.” But he wonders if he is at the moment. Seeing you in his clothes, laying in his bed makes him dizzy and he doesn’t know why. Maybe it has something to do with this being the only time you have ever truly looked like you belonged to him, that you fit into his life. Whenever you had taken up the same space in public, you had to act like you didn’t know each other. The only time you could indulge in your relationship was behind closed doors: your apartment in Bogotá and now here in Medellín, his temporary office in Bogotá, the backseat of the Jeep, and that one time in your classroom. You were always something to keep hidden, tucked away and discreet.

Then Trujillo had figured out what was going on between the two of you. It had been shortly after Diana Turbay’s death, another late night in the office filing reports when Trujillo came in and shut the door. The conversation had been short and straight to the point as it typically is between the two of them.

“Have you heard from Mariposa?” Trujillo had asked, speaking in English to help cut down on the eavesdropping if there happened to be any.

He kept his eyes on the file in front of him. “No.”

“You should see her.”

“Why is that?” He did look up at that point to Trujillo shift ever so slightly on his feet.

“Because…”

He leans back in the leather chair and folds his hands. “Because?”

“You’re calmer after you see her.”

“What does that mean exactly?”

“She brings you peace. And quite frankly, we could all use some of that right now.”

He considered that for a moment and decided there was some truth to it. You do bring him a peace that no one else seemed to be able to provide. “How many people know?”

Trujillo’s head tilts slightly to the side. “That you have a CI or that you’re having an affair with her?”

“The affair.”

“No one, just rumor and not well grounded at that.”

He believes the gringos call it “locker room talk.” That’s fine. “And I trust you will keep this a secret?”

Trujillo actually looked slightly offended. “Of course, Colonel.”

“If anything happens to me, you look out for her.”

The indignation was gone, replaced by solemness. “Of course, Colonel.”

And Trujillo continues to be the only one of his men he trusts implicitly with this beautiful secret.

Peace. You certainly brought him solace that night and many more to come. God, how he had missed you in Madrid though. Nightmares still plagued his dreams and dried up the words on his tongue when he tried to talk about them with Juliana. So he started writing letters to you, saying the things he couldn’t to his wife. He poured out his guilt, grief, and desire on those pages. He brought the letters with him to Colombia and they’re now sitting in a wooden box on the top of the bookcase in the den. He’ll need to burn them before his family returns to Colombia.

“Horacio.”

“Sí, mi amor?”

You wind your arms around his neck and pull him down towards you, pressing your lips to his. Your hands slid through his hair, fingernails scraping at his scalp. When he emits a startled gasp, you take advantage and slip your tongue between his lips. Sleep is now the farthest thing from his mind and judging by the strength of your grip, it’s the farthest thing from your mind too. He slips out of your embrace and pulls his shirt over his head, letting it land somewhere by the dresser. His boxers are the next thing to go as you sit up and disrobe yourself. As soon as you kick off the borrowed sweatpants, you open the sheets for him to join you.

He feels the cool cotton of sheets land on his lower back as he braces himself over you. Your hair is spread out on the pillow like a halo, your cheeks tinged with the heat of arousal, your eyes taking in every little detail of his face. He is still left wondering if this is a dream given how many times he had desperately wished for you to fill this side of the bed. For him, in the comfort and familiarity of his own home, being able to turn over and see you asleep beside him is a fantasy fulfilled. Or, like now, awake and under him.

His mouth descends to the spot where your shoulder meets your neck, his teeth scraping against the muscle. Your back arches, pressing your breasts against his chest and lowers himself down on top of you. Your legs part to make room for him and he easily slides into you, swallowing the moan you make with a kiss. Despite the raging emotion that he’s feeling, he takes his time, trying to draw out the lovemaking since he doesn’t know when he can get you in his bed again. That’s when he realizes three things in very short succession.

One, this is not fucking, this is not sex. This is making love in the purest form. The slow but steady push and pull of your bodies, his intrusion and your willing acceptance, the shared air as you both pant against each other’s face. This union feels more sacred than a marriage vow, which reminds him of the second realization.

Two, before his shower he removed his wedding ring and he never put it back on. This is not a new occurrence, as he often forgets to put it back on. Usually Julianna finds it as she prepares for bed and hands it to him with a mild scolding look. But when his left hand skims down your side, the smooth gold circle doesn’t catch in your ribs. It doesn’t trace over your skin like a constant reminder that you don’t belong to him. He’s able to lay his left hand completely flush with whatever plane of your body he chooses to touch. And he’s not that inclined to put it back on even after the act is completed.

Three, you truly are his now and he is yours. Your legs wrap around his waist, trying to pull him deeper. Your mouth seeks out his in an effort to keep your sighs, pleas, and curses from being heard by the neighbors. When you come, you bite down on the sinew on his shoulder to keep from screaming out and he has to bury his face into the pillow as the sting from your teeth push him over the edge and he comes hard and hot inside of you. Still trying to catch his breath, he starts to pull away from you but you hold him tight against you.

“Not yet,” you whisper.

“I’m not crushing you.”

You hum. “It feels good.”

He turns his head and kisses your flushed cheek. “You feel good.”

Your hands trace unseen patterns on his back. “That was…”

He props himself up on an elbow to stare down at you. “Fantastic?”

“Yes, fantastic,” you laugh. “But, it was also different.”

You were always astute. In the classroom, on the job, and even in bed. You had noticed the shift between the two of you and he wonders if you’ve had a realization of your own: that this is where you belong. By his side, on the field and at home. Partners in every sense of the word. You had asked him that rainy afternoon in the police Jeep if he was looking for a new wife and he had said no and he meant it. At that time. Now, knowing what it’s like to have someone who understands every part of you, even the darker parts, how could he not wish to carry out the rest of his career and life with you? He kisses the tip of your nose before throwing the sheets back so he can get up and get a washcloth to clean you both.

“Must just be the mattress,” he comments with a wink.

You hum your amusement and draw your knees up to your chin and hug your legs closer to you in a half attempt to be modest despite the sheen of perspiration clinging to your skin and the soiled sheets beneath you. You’re the picture of perfection to him and he swears that he will do whatever it takes to keep you safe.

#colonel horacio carrillo #horacio carrillo #horacio carrillo x reader #horacio carrillo x you #horacio carrillo fic #narcos fic #Mariposa Series #hinky writes

[leylinefiction]

Mariposa: Part III

Pairing: Horacio Carrillo x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: This is a four-part prequel to "Dustland Fairytale." There is no Javier Pena x Reader in this fic; it is strictly a Carrillo x Reader fic. You're a CIA informant that is trying to build the trust between the newly formed Search Bloc and the CIA/DEA. You just never imagined that falling in love with Colonel Horacio Carrillo was going to be part of the deal.

Warnings: Oh boy, lots of warnings. First 18+ only, DNI. If it was in Narcos, it will most likely be mentioned in here: gun violence, mentions of rape (what happened to Helena), characters dying, grief. Also, Carrillo is married so the relationship between him and the reader is an extramarital affair.

Tag List: @the-ginger-hedge-witch @vanemando15 @1950schick @bellestalesoffiction @frannyzooey @littleone65 @harriedandharassed

“These violent delights have violent ends. And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, which as they kiss consume.” 

“Profe, ¿qué significa eso?” (Teacher, what does that even mean?)

You sigh. “Significa que las emociones extremas, particularmente las que causan un comportamiento precipitado, pueden arruinar tu vida. Que esas decisiones son combustibles y destructivas.” (It means that extreme emotion, particularly ones that cause rash behavior, can ruin your life. That those decisions are combustible and destructive.)

“¿Como una cerilla y pólvora?” (Like a match and gunpowder?) 

“Precisamente.” (Precisely.) 

The bell rings and the students pack up their bags, stack the worn copies of Romeo and Juliet on the back shelf before leaving the room to start their weekend. You sit down at your desk and grab your coffee. It’s cold by now but the caffeine is needed. You’ve been up most nights this week listening to wiretaps and reviewing reports. Escobar is on the run. Police officers are being killed daily. It’s been absolute fucking chaos. 

Damn Shakespeare. Whenever a student asks why they need to study Shakespeare, in Colombia nonetheless, you always have an answer ready for them: Shakespeare is known worldwide. His plays are timeless because the themes still apply to today. We can learn from the mistakes of his characters. And as you stare down at those words, you feel like Shakespeare is laughing at you from beyond the grave. 

Violent delights do indeed have violent ends. 

This is the lesson you have learned the hard way in the last eight months. The CIA transferred you from Bogotá to Medellín. The timing is more than suspicious. Horacio gets reassigned to Madrid and two weeks later, you’re moving into a  Medellín barrio. You quickly come to find out, it’s not the worst move. Trujillo lives a few blocks away and frequently checks on you, to the point that his mother has taken pity on you and your kitchen skills. She makes extra food for dinner and passes it off to you but you must attend cooking classes with her on Sunday. Your empanadas are coming along nicely though. 

Horacio’s successor, Colonel Augusto Pinzon, is a stubborn, arrogant man with a strong distaste for Americans. You’ve tried setting up a couple meetings with him to pass along intel and you have yet to officially meet him. He either doesn’t show or sends someone else to pick up the intel. This isn’t working and when you report that to Stechner, he tells you that Pinzon is freezing out the DEA as well and not to take it personally. But how can you not when more and more police are killed daily and your intel could save some of them? So after dinner one Sunday, you offer to clean up dishes and enlist Trujillo’s help so you can talk business without the family overhearing. He catches on immediately to the purpose for both of you to be in the narrow kitchen. 

“Speak in English,” he tells you. “They won’t be able to keep up if they’re eavesdropping.” 

You fill up the sink with soapy water and grab a dishrag. “Pinzon won’t work with me, at all.” 

He frowns. “I know. He won’t work with Peña or Murphy either. At least, he’s not being helpful. They keep asking for men to help with raids and he won’t let us go.” 

“He has to know we’re all working towards the same goal? The sooner we get Escobar behind bars, the sooner the massacres will stop.” You rinse a couple plates and hand them to him to dry. “How many friends have you lost?” 

“Too many.” 

“What if I gave you the intel and you gave it to Pinzon? Don’t tell him it came from me.” 

“And if he asks where I got it from?” 

“Will he ask that?” 

Trujillo stacks the plates in the cupboard. “He may. He’s under the idea that the Americans are going to take all the credit for Escobar’s capture. Anything that might be helpful, he wants to make sure it’s the Colombian army that gets the credit.” 

“My God, that is not how you win a war.” It’s how you lose one but you don’t want to voice that thought aloud. “Well, tell him a local gave you the intel. Tell him a horse gave it to you, I don’t care what you tell him, just get him the information. We have to stop the bleeding somehow.” 

“I’ll pass along anything and everything you give me.” He sighs. “That’s all we can do right now.” 

You wash a few more dishes before asking another question that has been weighing on your mind. “Have you heard from him at all?” 

Trujillo shakes his head. “No, not at all. They’re probably monitoring his calls from Spain. Making sure he stays out of what’s happening here.” 

“This is all my fault.” You grind your teeth together to keep from saying anything else. You hadn’t meant to say that but Trujillo’s hand comes down on your shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. 

“You were the best thing to happen for him. For all of us.” 

“But they sent him away because-”

“Because he was being effective. Your intel, his methods, the DEA’s investigations, and the army’s force scared all the right people. Unfortunately, those people were in positions to separate everyone that could bring down the Medellín cartel. They’re more scared of them than us.” 

“‘“When you fear a foe, fear crushes your strength; and this weakness gives strength to your opponents.’” 

“Is that from one of your books?” 

“Shakespeare, yeah.” You finish the last of the dishes and drain the water out of the sink. “We’re going to have to work around Pinzon. Will the DEA agents work with you?” 

“They will. They’re just as frustrated as we are.” 

“Then let's use that frustration to our advantage. Pinzon won’t be able to withstand the pressures, especially if he keeps shutting everyone out. It’s going to cause division in the Search Bloc though.” 

Trujillo leans back on the counter. “Will it get him out of the position?” 

“His men divided, choosing to follow the gringos over him, to catch Escobar? Oh, it shouldn’t take long for the pressure to get to him. His ego is too fragile.” 

“Okay, that’s what we’ll do.” He nods, and looks out the window. “If Carrillo were still here, Escobar would leave Columbia. He wouldn’t risk being found by Search Bloc. He knows what we did to Gustavo was just a promise of what we would do to him. We need Carrillo back.” 

You agree, whole-heartedly. It’s not just the physical interactions you miss, although you would do just about anything to feel his hands on you again, but it’s the partnership you both had. You spent hours listening to wiretaps, taking notes, playing chess during the quieter places in the tapes. His mind was constantly planning, scrutinizing, picking information apart and choosing which parts were useful and then plugging them into his strategy. It was no wonder the generals were afraid of him and sent him out of the country. 

“I agree,” you say quietly. “But it’s going to take something large scale to scare President Gaviria into bringing him back.” And you certainly didn’t want to bear witness to whatever travesty that was going to be. 

***

It didn’t take long for Pinzon to realize some of the intel that was being handed to him was coming from a CIA informant. It caused a greater rift between his officers, like Trujillo, and the DEA. More officers were being killed on the streets of Medellín and you are almost at your breaking point. Last night, you had been drunk, missing Horacio, livid at Pinzon’s incompetence, and ended up calling Stechner. 

“I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.” 

He sighed, like he was dealing with a five year old having a tantrum. “Suck it up, sweetheart. This is part of the job.” 

“I’m useless here. Pinzon won’t-” 

“You don’t worry about Pinzon. Pinzon’s going to wear himself out. You keep passing intel.” 

“To who? No one that can do a fucking thing is getting it!” 

“That’s not your job. Keep the intel flowing.” 

“Even if it’s going nowhere?” 

“Now you’re getting it. Look, your job is simple: teach, listen, and report. That’s it. Carrillo somehow convinced you that you were a soldier in this war and that’s not true. You are a civilian with sharp ears. That’s it. You’re sad? Frustrated? Sick of the violence? Do what we all do, get drunk, get fucked and get over it. Find yourself another officer and get under him. And if that doesn’t work, I don’t know. Change your fucking hairstyle.” 

You hung up on him. But he didn’t call you back so you assume since he didn’t get your resignation by the next morning, you decided to keep going. And you had. Despite the raging hangover, you go into the classroom and continue to teach the tragedy of two teenagers who thought they were invincible only to be faced with the crashing reality that they were just as insignificant as everyone else. Death came for them, as it does for everyone. That’s why, when you drag yourself home and see Trujillo sitting on the stairs leading up to your apartment, your stomach drops. Who is dead now? And how many of them this time?

“Hola, Profesora.” (Hello, Teacher.)

“Hola, oficial. ¿A qué debo esta visita?” (Hello, Officer. To what do I owe this visit?)

“Tengo una sorpresa para ti.” (I have a surprise for you.)

You stop a couple stairs away from where he’s standing. This is new. “¿Qué?” (What?)

The briefest of smiles tugs at the corner of his mouth before he climbs the few stairs up to your door. You watch as he pulls out a key and unlocks the door. 

“Uh, why do you have a key to my apartment?” 

He shrugs. “Don’t worry about it.” 

“Oh, I’m going to worry about this.” 

He grins over his shoulder at you. “Not for long, you won’t,” he says as he opens the door and steps inside. 

You follow him over the threshold and into your living room, convinced you're dreaming. There is no way, no reason, for Horacio Carrillo to be standing in the middle of the room. Trujillo hands him the key and turns to leave, pinching your arm as he passes by you. 

“Di algo, hermana.” (Say something, sister.) 

You try, you really do, but your mind is still trying to process how he is real and standing before you. You hear the door close as Trujillo leaves and it startles you out of your shock. “You’re really here?” 

“I am,” he smiles at you but doesn’t move any closer. “¿Estás bien?” (Are you well?)

“Yes. I, uh, I am. And you?” 

“Soy bueno.” (I’m good.) 

You’re afraid to move, fearing that if you do, he’ll disappear. But standing still is starting to get awkward. Not to mention the shock of seeing him is starting to wear off and the pounding behind your eyeballs from your hangover is starting to come back. “Do you want a drink?” 

He nods. “Sure.” 

You force your feet to move and go into the kitchen. You still have a bottle of aguardiente in your cabinet and pour two tumblers of it. He follows you into the narrow space and he’s so close to you now that it makes it hard to breathe. “How’s, uh, how’s your wife and kids?” 

“Good,” he answers, taking a sip of the drink. “They’re still in Madrid.” 

And he’s wearing his wedding ring which means they’ll be coming back to Colombia. “For how long?” 

“Until we catch Escobar.” 

You almost choke on your drink. “That could take months.” 

“It could.” He leans against the refrigerator. “So you live in Medellín now.” 

“Yeah, they moved me here shortly after…” You can’t bring yourself to finish the question. After you left. 

He hums in acknowledgement and knocks back the alcohol in one go. “Are you seeing anyone?” 

“No, I’m not.” 

His mouth is on yours before you realize he’s moved. His hands pull you tight against him, still solid muscle from head to toe, and hold you against his chest. His tongue invades your mouth and you welcome it as your hands relearn the feel of his hair against your fingers. Having him against you after months of being apart is like the moment when a thunderstorm finally breaks and the heavy humidity dissipates, leaving the air cool and fresh. The sadness at his departure has broken and the relief of his presence brings fresh hope. 

You know you’ve missed him, but the sharp sting of tears behind your eyes tells you the emotion went deeper than that. You grieved him, the loss of the relationship. Somewhere between you throwing up in a dumpster to saying goodbye to him when he left for Madrid, you had grown from partners, to friends, to lovers. The progress had been so incredibly smooth, he had just become an extension of you. His absence had been that of a missing limb, at times you could still feel him there only to realize he was gone. But he has returned and you wonder now how long it will take for you two to regain that lost ground of your relationship.  

He  backs you up to the small kitchen table and lifts you up onto it like you weigh nothing. Your legs automatically wrap around his waist and pull him closer to you. This is familiar. The tang of cologne and cigarettes, the feel of his muscles under your hands. His mouth slides from yours and ascends up your neck with a mixture of licks and nips. He reaches your ear and gently closes his teeth around the cartilage as he whispers to you. 

“Te he extrañado mucho, mi amor.” (I’ve missed you so much, my love.) 

“Yo también te he extrañado. Sueño contigo a menudo.” (I’ve missed you too. I dream of you often.) 

His hands are everywhere, trying to get under the neckline of your dress or under the skirt, desperately seeking out any skin he can find. “¿Y tú con qué sueñas?” (And what do you dream of?)

You tug his shirt loose and slip your hands under the fabric and over the skin of his back with a contented sigh. “Este. Estás volviendo a mí.” (This. You coming back to me.) 

“Estoy aquí, Mariposa.” (I’m here, Butterfly.)

You have so many questions for him. How long is he here for? Why is he here? What happened to bring him back? But all those questions can wait. You grab his belt buckle and undo it while his hands slide under your skirt and pull your panties down your legs, dropping them to the floor. Your hand wraps around him and he’s already hard and solid in your palm. His head drops to your shoulder with a groan as two of his fingers slide into you with ease. 

“So wet for me, querida.” 

You wrap your hand around his length and stroke him a couple times, forcing your mouth to work. “I told you I missed you. Seems like you missed me too.” 

He lifts his head and pushes your skirt out of the way as you line him up to your entrance. He takes his time to slowly sink into you and you both breathe sighs of relief when he’s fully inside. His mouth finds yours again and the kisses are sloppy but full of barely contained joy at the reunification. He palms your breasts through your clothes and you grab fistfuls of his cotton dress shirt, looking for something to hold on to as he starts to move. 

It doesn’t take long for his thrusts to quicken and have more power behind them. The desperation is evident in every snap of his hips. It gets harder for you to hold on to him, so you lay back on the table, reaching behind you to grab the edge. His hands are on your hips, pulling you towards him as he relentlessly pounds into you. Your thighs are trembling from gripping his waist but you feel that low warmth in your stomach starting to blossom. Your grip on the table allows you to push against him with each thrust. You’re both chasing your ends now and the force he’s using makes you grit your teeth to keep them from gnashing together. “I’m going to-” 

“Me too,” he grits out. 

He removes one of his hands from your hip, his thumb immediately finding your clit and slowly rubbing it. You back arches off the wooden table as your orgasm rips through your body. Horacio lets loose a string of profanity in Spanish as he comes just as violently. He falls forward, covering your body with his own, panting against your neck. 

You wrap your arms around him, holding him close, so when he does straighten up, he takes you with him. You stay tucked under his chin, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne. You’re both damp from both your activity but also the humidity in the air. You don’t care though. His pulse beats against your temple, his heart under your palm. His hand spans the breadth of your ribcage and his other is in your hair, his fingers gently massaging your scalp. It’s as if neither one of you can get close enough to the other. 

“I thought about you everyday,” you whisper. 

“I did the same.” He presses his lips against your forehead. “Te amo, querida.” 

“Te amo, Horacio.” It feels so good to say those words again. 

He kisses your cheek before pulling away and you both take a few minutes to clean up and resituate your rumpled clothing. You refill the glasses and sit on the couch. You try to remain professional, or at least adult-like, but he pulls you closer to him until your head is resting on his shoulder and his hand, as always, lays on your side. You enjoy a few moments of quiet, of peace, before asking questions about the war zone outside in the streets. 

“So Gaviria brought you back to catch Escobar?” you ask. 

“Yes. He had to when Pinzon resigned.” 

“Wait, what?!” You sit up straight so you look him in the eye. “Pinzon resigned?!” 

“Yesterday morning.” He gives you a shit-eating grin. “What? You didn’t know that?” 

“No! How did I…why didn’t…” you’re stunned. “Trujillo…” 

“Was told to keep it a secret. I only got wind of it two days ago. Pinzon was showing signs of cracking. He was cleaning out files, stashing evidence, and stopped communicating with the unit. Added to the continued attacks on the police, the body count was getting too high to justify. So Gaviria called me and said he wanted me to replace Pinzon when the official resignation came through. Apparently it did yesterday morning.” 

“This is awfully big news to keep quiet.” 

“We had to,” he pulls out a cigarette and lights it up. “If Pablo got wind of Search Bloc not having a commander for 36 hours, he would have blown the headquarters to smithereens.” 

So that answers another question of yours. “So you report tomorrow morning?” 

“I do.”

He’s quiet for a moment, studying your face. You know he’s already strategizing for something. “What are you planning now?” 

He sighs, releasing a long stream of smoke. “People know me here, much more than they did in Bogotá.” 

You take the cigarette from him and take a drawl before handing it back. “We’re going to have to be more discreet. That’s why Trujillo gave you a key.” 

“Yes. So now that you know I can let myself in when it’s safe.” He winks at you. “Don’t confuse me for an intruder and shoot me.” 

“Head of the Search Bloc gunned down by teacher in barrio apartment. Not exactly a glorious end to your career.” 

“No, not at all.” He leans down and kisses you briefly. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you.” 

You smile up at him and return the kiss. “I think I do.” 

***

Coronel Carrillo’s return certainly put a buzz around the school. Every corner you turned, students and staff alike were talking about it. The feelings seemed to be pretty fairly split down the middle. Half were happy to see his return, certain that he would bring Pablo Escobar to justice. Half were scared that they or their families were going to get caught in the crossfire during the manhunt. 

“¿Profe?” (Teacher?)

“Sí.” (Yes.) 

“¿Se enteró de lo que pasó ayer en el Barrio Escobar?” (Did you hear about what happened in Barrio Escobar yesterday?)

You did actually, from Horacio himself and a grinning Trujillo. You had to admit, arriving with a hundred police officers and then urinating on the mural did, in fact, get a very clear message across. But you school your face to remain neutral in light of the question. “Sí, lo hice.” (Yes, I did.) 

The teenage boy, Diego, shrugs. “¿Entonces, qué piensas?” (So, what do you think?) 

It’s a trap, pure and simple. He’s been one that you’ve had an eye on for the last few weeks. He doesn’t say much, keeps to himself, but you watch his reactions to the students around him. He’s recruiting, shifting through those he can pull into whatever gang he’s creating. And now, he’s testing you as only a sixteen year old can: a public challenge in front of his peers and all eyes are on you. Luckily, this isn’t your first rodeo. 

“Creo que el Coronel Carrillo tiene una sólida comprensión del simbolismo. Tal vez debería hacer que viniera y enseñara Romeo y Julieta.” (I think Colonel Carrillo has a solid understanding of symbolism. Maybe I should have him come in and teach Romeo and Juliet.) 

Most of the class laughs at your comment but there are a few who don’t. You make a mental note to record those names. “Bien, guarda los eventos actuales para estudios sociales. Volvamos a nuestros adolescentes enamorados.” (Okay, let’s save the current events for social studies. Let’s get back to our love sick teenagers.)

The day carries on as normal after that until the last class of the day. You’re helping a student find a line in the play so they can reference it in the paper they’re writing on the theme when you return to your desk with a small note half-way hidden under your well-worn copy of the play. You lift up the book to read the note. 

No bebas tu agua. (Don’t drink your water.)

So you don’t. You carry on with the rest of class and wait till all the students leave. You pick up the bottle, with the note, and carry both down to the office, asking to speak to the principal. Of course, the principal is about as helpful as Pinzon, given that you’re new to the school, an American, and a woman. It is the unholy trifecta. Thankfully, the secretary takes pity on you and calls the police directly. Slipping her five hundred pesos also helps get the call made. You sit in the office and wait for someone to show up, having to hide your relief when Trujillo walks into the office. 

The principal of course comes out and tells Trujillo nothing is wrong, just a scared American having a prank pulled on them. However, Trujillo takes the bottle and says that he’s going to check it out just in case the prank happens to be more sinister and asks you to join him outside to fill out a report. You follow him out to the car and see Horacio sitting in the front seat. 

“I’m honored you showed up in person,” you say, leaning on the open window. 

“A teacher being threatened by students, that’s a big offense.” 

“Possible threat,” you correct.  

Trujillo sets the bottle down and opens the lid. Horacio gets out of the car and picks up a water bottle from the car, moving you out of the way. When he spills some water over your bottle, the entire thing fizzes and erupts, all three of you jumping out of the way of the liquid. 

“Holy shit,” you mutter. 

“Sulfuric acid most likely,” Horacio says. “Probably grabbed it from the chemistry lab.” 

“That would have fucking killed me if I drank it!” 

Horacio is staring down at the still fizzing acid, his jaw clenched. You know he’s once again trying to figure out the best way to handle this. “¿Como esta el director?” (How’s the principal?) 

Trujillo frowns. “No se preocupa. Dijo que solo era una estadounidense asustada.” (Not concerned. Said she was just a scared American.)

“Supongo que le haré saber que tiene motivos para estarlo. Trujillo, ve a buscar sus cosas de su cuarto y luego llévala a mi casa, aunque por la parte de atrás.” (I guess I'll let him know she has reason to be. Trujillo, go grab her things from her room and then take her to my house, through the back though.)

You tell Trujillo your room number and that you just need your purse. Horacio opens the passenger side door of the police Jeep, which you eye warily. “You sure this is wise?” 

“What?” 

“Taking me to your house?” 

“Think of it as protective custody until we figure out why they targeted you. Is it because you’re their teacher or do they know something more?” 

You’re still leaning on the side of the vehicle. “So you would do this for any teacher that receives a threat like this?” 

“Any teacher that’s also a CI, yes.”

He means it too. You don’t need to see his eyes, which are hidden behind the reflective aviators at the moment. It’s the muscles around his mouth that betray him and they haven’t so much as twitched. You climb into the car and he shuts the door. “There are a couple students you may want to track down. I have their names in a notebook in my purse.” 

“What happened?” He’s now leaning on the open window. 

“They asked me if I knew what happened the other day in the barrio. I told them yes and that you seemed to understand the power of symbolism. There were a couple kids who didn't appreciate the joke.” 

“We’ll start with them,” he nods. “Spotters are becoming a big issue right now. A lot of sicarios are using local kids to act as spies for the cartel. They’re using a fairly extensive radio system to report police movement around Medellín. He could be one of them. Name?” 

You nod. “Diego Juarez. And that sounds like something he might be involved in. He’s been paying very close attention to his peers and their reactions to news that involves the cartel. He’s the one that asked me today if I knew what happened.” 

“I’ll get your rosters from the Principal. You call Stechner from my house, let him know what happened. I’ll see if Peña or Murphy can help with interviewing the kids.” 

Trujillo comes out of the school with your bag in his hand and immediately gets into the driver’s seat. You pull out your notebook and tear the page out with the student’s names from earlier in the day and hand it to Horacio. He looks at it and puts it into his pocket. He points to the phone and you hand it to him. He walks away from the car for a couple minutes while he speaks to someone before bringing the phone back. 

“Murphy is coming to help go through the rosters. I’ll ride back to Search Bloc with him.” 

Trujillo leans forward in his seat. “¿Quieres que vuelva?” (Do you want me to come back?)

Horacio shakes his head. “No. Quédate con ella hasta que yo llegue.” (No. Stay with her until I get there.) 

You give him a cheeky grin. “¿Tiene miedo de robar cosas, Coronel?” (Afraid I'm going to steal stuff, Colonel?)

He gives you a pseudo-irritated look. “Bueno, ahora lo soy.” (Well, now I am.) 

“Supongo que tendrás que cachearme cuando llegues a casa.” (Guess you're just going to have to frisk me when you get home.)

Trujillo groans. “Ustedes dos son los peores.” (You two are the worst.) 

You watch the slightest of smiles twitch at the corner of Horacio’s mouth. He taps the car twice and Trujillo drives off. The trip to Horacio’s house takes almost fifteen minutes and it’s in a nicer section of Medellín but certainly not fancy. Trujillo parks the car in the alley behind the home and radios to the officer stationed at the front before you get out of the car to alert him that there’s going to be approved movement in the house. You follow Trujillo through the back gate and into a small, well-manicured yard. He takes out a set of keys and unlocks the backdoor. 

“You just have a key to all of our homes, don’t you?” 

He smiles. “The price of being a secret keeper.” 

“Thank you, for that,” you say sincerely. 

He nods in acknowledgement and opens the door for you. It leads directly into a well lit kitchen that is gleaming white tile and cabinets. It’s absolutely spotless which doesn’t surprise you in the least but it’s still something to behold. 

“¿Alguna vez has estado aquí?” (Have you ever been here?) 

“No.” 

“Anda, mira a tu alrededor. Voy a ver si tiene comida.” (Go, look around. I’ll see if he has any food.) 

You open a swinging door that leads into a dining area and then into a front formal living room. The curtains are all pulled tight so no one can see into the house. You wander past the front door and into a more casual living area with a den connected to it. The den looks more like Horacio: leather bound books, maps laid out on the desk, and a tape player with headphones.

Trujillo comes to stand next to you and hands you a beer. “¿Ver? No eres el único que trae obras a casa.” (See? You’re not the only one who brings work home.)

You take the beer. “Is this why you have our keys? You break in and drink our booze?” 

He smiles at you. “It’s not breaking in if you have a key.” 

***

It’s almost midnight by the time Horacio arrives home. He and Murphy had spent most of the evening talking to students and their families. You were right to be suspicious of Diego; he threw off all kinds of warning signs, as did his parents. But by the time he finishes the interviews, compares notes with Murphy, files reports, and picks up some of your belongings from your apartment, it’s much later than he thought. When he walks through the door, Trujillo is watching the news on the television from one of the armchairs while you are sound asleep on the couch.

He nods to Trujillo as he drops your bag at the foot of the stairs and goes into the kitchen, Trujillo following him. 

“¿Como es ella?” Horacio asks, pouring a hefty amount of aguardiente into a glass. (How is she?)

“Asustado. Más de lo que deja ver.” (Scared. More than she lets on.)

“Ella tiene una buena razón. Diego Juárez es uno de nuestros observadores, si no uno de los líderes. Estoy seguro de ello.” (She has good reason. Diego Juárez is one of our spotters, if not one of the leaders. I'm certain of it.)

Trujillo nods. “¿Tenemos un plan para comenzar a rastrear a los observadores?” (Do we have a plan to start tracking the spotters?)

Horacio yawns and rubs a hand over his face. “Estoy trabajando en uno. Peña y Murphy van a estar mañana en Search Bloc. Lo discutiremos juntos.” (I'm working on one. Pena and Murphy are going to be at Search Bloc tomorrow. We'll discuss it together.)

“Bueno. Duerma un poco, Coronel.” (Okay. Get some sleep, Colonel.)

“Tú también, hermano.” (You too, brother.) 

Trujillo leaves out the back door and Horacio locks it behind him. He pours another glass of alcohol before going back to the living room. You’re still sound asleep on the couch, covered with a cotton blanket, the tv the only light in the room. He decides to leave you there for now, grabs your bag and heads upstairs. He goes into his bedroom and sees your clothes from the day neatly folded and stacked on the chair in the corner so he sets your bag down there. When he grabs clean clothes to change into, he notices one of his t-shirts and a pair of sweatpants are missing. 

His shower is quick and he tries to solidify the plan for later on today. They’ll send out a few cars at night. It’ll be Saturday night and most of the spotters will be out on the streets with their friends. They’ll use unmarked cars, four men in each. They’ll hit the areas on the map where Jacoby, the intel specialist assigned to Search Bloc, had marked off where the transmissions appeared to be coming when they did the run to Barrio Escobar. They’ll gather as many of them up as possible, put the fear of God in them, and send them back home to tell their friends to stay out of the drug war for as long as they can. He towels off and pulls on a clean t-shirt and a pair of boxers before going back downstairs. 

You’re still sound asleep, curled on your side, hands tucked under your cheek. He turns the hallway light on so there’s some light after he turns off the television. He’s not that stupid to wake you up in a pitch black room, just his form looming over you. So he bends down and runs his fingers across your check, brushing back strands of hair that have fallen across your face. 

“Mariposita?” 

You huff indignantly and furrows appear in your forehead. Have you always looked this young? Or is he just getting too old to be fighting this war? He gently pulls back the blanket and folds it. Sure enough, your frame is swimming in one of his shirts and sweatpants. He takes both of your arms, sitting you upright, so he can scoop you up bridal style and carry you to bed. By the time he’s made it to the foot of the stairs, you’re starting to come out of your sleep. 

“‘Ratio?” 

“Yes?” 

That must have been enough of an answer as you lay your head against his collarbone and drape your arms over his shoulders. He lays you down on the bed and pulls the sheet and blankets over you. Your eyes open, blinking slowly as a smile creeps across your face. He sits down on the side of the bed and holds the side of your face in his hand. 

“Am I dreaming?” you ask so sweetly. 

“No.” But he wonders if he is at the moment. Seeing you in his clothes, laying in his bed makes him dizzy and he doesn’t know why. Maybe it has something to do with this being the only time you have ever truly looked like you belonged to him, that you fit into his life. Whenever you had taken up the same space in public, you had to act like you didn’t know each other. The only time you could indulge in your relationship was behind closed doors: your apartment in Bogotá and now here in Medellín, his temporary office in Bogotá, the backseat of the Jeep, and that one time in your classroom. You were always something to keep hidden, tucked away and discreet. 

Then Trujillo had figured out what was going on between the two of you. It had been shortly after Diana Turbay’s death, another late night in the office filing reports when Trujillo came in and shut the door. The conversation had been short and straight to the point as it typically is between the two of them. 

“Have you heard from Mariposa?” Trujillo had asked, speaking in English to help cut down on the eavesdropping if there happened to be any. 

He kept his eyes on the file in front of him. “No.” 

“You should see her.” 

“Why is that?” He did look up at that point to Trujillo shift ever so slightly on his feet. 

“Because…” 

He leans back in the leather chair and folds his hands. “Because?” 

“You’re calmer after you see her.” 

“What does that mean exactly?” 

“She brings you peace. And quite frankly, we could all use some of that right now.” 

He considered that for a moment and decided there was some truth to it. You do bring him a peace that no one else seemed to be able to provide. “How many people know?” 

Trujillo’s head tilts slightly to the side. “That you have a CI or that you’re having an affair with her?” 

“The affair.” 

“No one, just rumor and not well grounded at that.” 

He believes the gringos call it “locker room talk.” That’s fine. “And I trust you will keep this a secret?” 

Trujillo actually looked slightly offended. “Of course, Colonel.” 

“If anything happens to me, you look out for her.” 

The indignation was gone, replaced by solemness. “Of course, Colonel.” 

And Trujillo continues to be the only one of his men he trusts implicitly with this beautiful secret. 

Peace. You certainly brought him solace that night and many more to come. God, how he had missed you in Madrid though. Nightmares still plagued his dreams and dried up the words on his tongue when he tried to talk about them with Juliana. So he started writing letters to you, saying the things he couldn’t to his wife. He poured out his guilt, grief, and desire on those pages. He brought the letters with him to Colombia and they’re now sitting in a wooden box on the top of the bookcase in the den. He’ll need to burn them before his family returns to Colombia. 

“Horacio.” 

“Sí, mi amor?” 

You wind your arms around his neck and pull him down towards you, pressing your lips to his. Your hands slid through his hair, fingernails scraping at his scalp. When he emits a startled gasp, you take advantage and slip your tongue between his lips. Sleep is now the farthest thing from his mind and judging by the strength of your grip, it’s the farthest thing from your mind too. He slips out of your embrace and pulls his shirt over his head, letting it land somewhere by the dresser. His boxers are the next thing to go as you sit up and disrobe yourself. As soon as you kick off the borrowed sweatpants, you open the sheets for him to join you. 

He feels the cool cotton of sheets land on his lower back as he braces himself over you. Your hair is spread out on the pillow like a halo, your cheeks tinged with the heat of arousal, your eyes taking in every little detail of his face. He is still left wondering if this is a dream given how many times he had desperately wished for you to fill this side of the bed. For him, in the comfort and familiarity of his own home, being able to turn over and see you asleep beside him is a fantasy fulfilled. Or, like now, awake and under him. 

His mouth descends to the spot where your shoulder meets your neck, his teeth scraping against the muscle. Your back arches, pressing your breasts against his chest and lowers himself down on top of you. Your legs part to make room for him and he easily slides into you, swallowing the moan you make with a kiss. Despite the raging emotion that he’s feeling, he takes his time, trying to draw out the lovemaking since he doesn’t know when he can get you in his bed again. That’s when he realizes three things in very short succession. 

One, this is not fucking, this is not sex. This is making love in the purest form. The slow but steady push and pull of your bodies, his intrusion and your willing acceptance, the shared air as you both pant against each other’s face. This union feels more sacred than a marriage vow, which reminds him of the second realization. 

Two, before his shower he removed his wedding ring and he never put it back on. This is not a new occurrence, as he often forgets to put it back on. Usually Julianna finds it as she prepares for bed and hands it to him with a mild scolding look. But when his left hand skims down your side, the smooth gold circle doesn’t catch in your ribs. It doesn’t trace over your skin like a constant reminder that you don’t belong to him. He’s able to lay his left hand completely flush with whatever plane of your body he chooses to touch. And he’s not that inclined to put it back on even after the act is completed. 

Three, you truly are his now and he is yours. Your legs wrap around his waist, trying to pull him deeper. Your mouth seeks out his in an effort to keep your sighs, pleas, and curses from being heard by the neighbors. When you come, you bite down on the sinew on his shoulder to keep from screaming out and he has to bury his face into the pillow as the sting from your teeth push him over the edge and he comes hard and hot inside of you. Still trying to catch his breath, he starts to pull away from you but you hold him tight against you. 

“Not yet,” you whisper. 

“I’m not crushing you.” 

You hum. “It feels good.” 

He turns his head and kisses your flushed cheek. “You feel good.” 

Your hands trace unseen patterns on his back. “That was…” 

He props himself up on an elbow to stare down at you. “Fantastic?” 

“Yes, fantastic,” you laugh. “But, it was also different.” 

You were always astute. In the classroom, on the job, and even in bed. You had noticed the shift between the two of you and he wonders if you’ve had a realization of your own: that this is where you belong. By his side, on the field and at home. Partners in every sense of the word. You had asked him that rainy afternoon in the police Jeep if he was looking for a new wife and he had said no and he meant it. At that time. Now, knowing what it’s like to have someone who understands every part of you, even the darker parts, how could he not wish to carry out the rest of his career and life with you? He kisses the tip of your nose before throwing the sheets back so he can get up and get a washcloth to clean you both. 

“Must just be the mattress,” he comments with a wink. 

You hum your amusement and draw your knees up to your chin and hug your legs closer to you in a half attempt to be modest despite the sheen of perspiration clinging to your skin and the soiled sheets beneath you. You’re the picture of perfection to him and he swears that he will do whatever it takes to keep you safe. 

#colonel horacio carrillo #horacio carrillo #horacio carrillo x reader #horacio carrillo x you #horacio carrillo fic #narcos fic #mariposa

[organisationskoval]

114) Tercera Fuerza (Trzecia Siła, Third Force) - aby należeć do Trzeciej Siły, najpopularniejszej grupy narodowo-socjalistycznej w Kolumbii, trzeba być, zgodnie z jej założeniami, „człowiekiem poprawnym, dalekim od wad, wzorowym życiem — musi przynajmniej pracować lub studiować — i nie mającym rejestrów karnych lub spowodowali publiczne skandale”. Jednak kiedy spotykają się w barach takich jak Spoldin w centrum Bogoty, na niektórych Avenida Primero de Mayo, w dzielnicy Santa Isabel lub w mieście Kennedy, pogo uwolnione przez następne zespoły RAC (Rock Against Communism) stają się problemem porządku publicznego. Oprócz Trzeciej Siły w Kolumbii istnieje dziewięć ugrupowań narodowo-socjalistycznych: Está la Alianza Social Patriotas, el Comando Radical Nacionalista, Comando Unión Nacional Socialista de Colombia (UNSC), Hermandad Nacionalista, Trinchera Nacionalista, Escuadrón Nacionalista 88, Sol Negro, Alternativa Falangista de Colombia i Lobos Blancos. Wszyscy oni znajdują się pod wpływem ultranacjonalistycznych organizacji religijnych, takich jak Sociedad Colombiana en Defensa de la Tradición, Familia y Propiedad (Kolumbijskie Towarzystwo Obrony Tradycji, Rodziny i Własności), największy na świecie inspirowany przez katolicyzm antykomunistyczny ruch obywatelsko-kulturalny. Nawet jeśli ich imprezy są szalone, sprzeciwiają się aborcji, małżeństwom homoseksualnym, alkoholizmowi i zażywaniu substancji psychoaktywnych. Istnieją dwie grupy, które wyrwane są z kontekstu ze względu na swój radykalizm, dwie grupy, których nie dało się kontrolować i które powodują najwięcej ekscesów na każdym ze swoich spotkań: Juventudes Hitlerianas (Hitlerjugend) i Hammerskins. Dwóch członków tej grupy zaatakowało w niedzielę, 20 sierpnia, dwoje młodych ludzi należących do Coordinadora Antifascista de Bogotá w dzielnicy Suba La Toscana. Teraz walczą o życie z powodu ran kłutych, które otrzymali. W zeszłym tygodniu na Majorce, Hammerskins ogłosili wyspę nazistowskim protektoratem. Ekstremiści rozpoczynają globalną ofensywę, podobnie jak inne nowo powstałe grupy, takie jak Blood and Honor, które prowadzą mikro-handel w miastach takich jak Pereira. Tam poległ Alex Castillo, alias Nítido, który również należał do Trzeciej Siły. Ideały kolumbijskich nazistów są rozproszone i prawie zawsze graniczyły z nielegalnością. W latach osiemdziesiątych Movimiento de Reconstrucción Nacional (Ruch Odbudowy Narodowej - MORENA) został utworzony przez trzech mężczyzn, jednym z nich był Armando Valenzuela Ruiz, który po latach miał stworzyć Tercera Fuerza; drugim założycielem był Iván Roberto Duque, znany w latach 90. pod pseudonimem Ernesto Baez, budzący grozę przywódca paramilitarny, który wywołał przerażenie w kraju, kiedy kierował Bloque Central Bolívar de las Autodefensas Unidas de Colombia (Centralnym Blokiem Boliwarjańskimskim Zjednoczonych Sił Samoobrony Kolumbii). Podjęli oni idee grupy Dios y Patria, utworzonej w czasie dyktatury Gustavo Rojasa Pinilli w 1956 roku w Pereirze, wiernego obrońcy religii i sił zbrojnych. Według śledztwa przeprowadzonego przez dziennikarza Gustavo Rugelesa, były dyrektor policji, generał Rodolfo Palomino, którego Alfredo Devia, jeden z przywódców organizacji, był jego przyjacielem, był bardzo blisko tej grupy. Chwalił się nawet, że był zwalniany za każdym razem, gdy trafiał do więzienia za bliski związek z Palomino. Byłoby tak blisko, że Trzecia Siła trenowała w zbiornikach ciszy, miejscu tuż obok szkoły Carabineros, podczas gdy Palomino dowodził Policją. Third Force szczyci się posiadaniem 8000 członków. Nigdy nie było ich tak wielu, ale było ich wystarczająco dużo, by zasiać postrach na ulicach Bogoty, gdzie nasyceni alkoholem, kokainą i pigułkami robią obchód, gdzie w swoich czarnych butach, z których wiele jest drogich Dr. Martens, kopią bezdomnych, członków stowarzyszeń LGTBI i przeplatają się w zaciekłych bojach na kamienie i kije z Rash (komunistycznymi skinheadami). Co roku 20 kwietnia wynajmują pokoje w stołecznych hotelach, by uczcić urodziny Adolfa Hitlera. W miarę postępu ceremonii atmosfera staje się coraz bardziej rzadka, a słodkie wino rozlewa się po stołach. Śpiewają faszystowskie hymny, takie jak hiszpańska Cara al sol i nucący Al viento las banderas, nazistowski hymn, który znają tylko nieliczni. Stwierdzają na tych spotkaniach, że Hitler jest najważniejszą istotą, jaka przeszła przez ziemię i tęsknią za momentem, kiedy świat będzie całkowicie nazistowski. Dzieci w wieku 5 lat chodzą na te coroczne imprezy do mężczyzn w wieku powyżej 80 lat, takich jak dziennikarz Fabio Roca Vidales, brat komunistycznego poety Juana Manuela Roca, który jest entuzjastycznym faszystą od ponad 40 lat. Innym byłym dowódcą 3. Siły, który miał kontakty z władzą, jest Eduardo Romano. W lipcu 2012 roku były adwokat uczestniczył w hołdzie w hotelu Casa Medina, promowanym przez ruch Restauración Nacional (Odrodzenia Narodowego), spadkobiercę MORENY. Tego dnia dzielił główny stół z Romano, który uczestniczył w spotkaniu jako członek Fundación Colombia Herida (Kolumbijskiej Fundacji Herida), której przewodniczy aktor Rodrigo Obregón, syn mitycznego malarza Alejandro Obregóna, który był blisko związany z ruchem nazistowskim. Chociaż jej członków nie przybywa zbyt wiele, Tercera Fuerza nadal demonstruje za każdym razem, gdy osoby LGBTI wychodzą na ulice, aby świętować dumę gejowską, protestować przeciwko aborcji, małżeństwom osób tej samej płci lub wspierać demonstracje promowane przez Uribismo, takie jak marsz antykorupcyjny 2 kwietnia tego roku. 

[ohmoguer]

Estreno de la temporada completa Miércoles 10 de agosto, exclusivamente en Star+ Protagonizada por las actrices y los actores colombianos Marcela Mar, Martina García y Rashed Estefenn, filmada en la ciudad de Bogotá y realizada por Vista Productions, “No fue mi culpa. Colombia” presenta una colección de historias unitarias basadas en casos reales de violencia de género, entrelazadas a lo largo de la serie por un intrigante relato. En una era marcada por el empoderamiento femenino, y a través de una temática real y relevante abordada en tono de denuncia social, narra un caso distinto en cada episodio unitario, al tiempo que presenta una historia central que actúa como hilo conductor y gira en torno a Ángela Iregui (Mar), una abogada determinada y audaz que se ve involucrada de distintas maneras en los casos. La serie está escrita por Ana María Parra Vázquez y dirigida por Felipe Cano y Cecilia Vásquez. https://www.instagram.com/p/CgnFBDNuvX0/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[supernaturalgirl20]

La Secretaria

Pairings: Javier Pena x reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, explicit, angst, fluff, men being sexist, mutual pining.

Summary: being Javier’s secretary isn’t easy. He’s hot headed, stubborn and aggressive, but so are you. What happens when he finally meets his match.

A/N: I wanted to writ pure smut for Javier, been in my feels today so I needed this.

{Comments and reblogs really appreciated}

You’d heard the rumours, of course you had. There wasn’t one person in the DEA that didn’t know about thee Javier Pena. Hot headed, stubborn, flirt with anything in a skirt and his number one MO, visiting the local brothel. Stechner hired you to keep a close eye on Javier, or as he put it ‘tame the beast’. He’d gone through at least six secretaries since he arrived in Bogotá, which didn’t give you great odds but you were nothing if not a trier.

You arrived at the office early wanting to have everything set up before he came. At nine on the dot Javier arrived and when he opened the door to his office he was shocked to see you standing there, coffee in hand. He narrows his eyes at you before you feel his gaze roam over you. He runs a hand over his face before placing his hands on his hips.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Y/N, your new secretary Mr. Pena. I brought you you’re coffee and the file on the Rodriguez brothers. If you need anything else, I’ll be at my desk.”

He stares at you, if he was impressed, it didn’t show on his face. You walk towards the door, the one he’s standing in front of. You stop before him and look him in the eyes.

“Do you mind moving!”

His eyes lock with yours before glancing at your lips and then back to your eyes. He doesn’t say anything, just walks past you to his desk. Leaving the office you sit at your own desk and begin typing up some of his reports. The day passes quickly and as you get ready to go home, Javier pops his head out. “Where are you going? I haven’t finished for the day yet.”

“I can see that, Mr. Pena, but my schedule is 9-5, so seen as it’s 5:10 I’M finished for the day.”

You can tell he’s angry, see the thick in his jaw. “I have reports for you to type up, your schedule is whatever mine is, and I’m not done. So sit tight and type these up.”

“I will, in the morning. Goodnight Mr. Pena.”

“If you leave, your fired.” He has a sly smirk on his face, he’s waiting for you to put your things down and start working. He doesn’t know it yet, but your just as stubborn as him, so you call his bluff and leave. He quirks his eyebrow, he hadn’t expected you to disobey him.

***

The following morning Javier arrives to find you in his office again, files in one hand, coffee in the other.

“I fired you.”

“And yet here I am.” You hand him the file and coffee and walk out of his office. He’s speechless, and just stares after you. Continuing your work from the day before, your interrupted when an agent walks toward Javier’s door. Standing, blocking his way you put your hand out to stop him.

“He’s busy.”

“Who are you?”

“Mr. Pena’s secretary, and you are?”

“Agent Feistl, has he fucked you yet?”

“Excuse me?”

“That’s a no then. Early days I suppose, or,” he looks you up and down, “hmm not really his type are you. He likes them skinny and pretty..”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You think I haven’t heard all this shit before, you don’t intimidate me what was it Fritsle?”

“It’s Feis..”

“I don’t care, your not getting in. You want to see him, make an appointment.”

Feistl grumbles under his breath.

“What was that?”

Before he can say it again, Javier opens his office door and stands beside you. He places a hand on your lower back, “ why don’t you head out for lunch?”

“That’s it princess, run along.”

You stare daggers at him grabbing your bag and leaving. Feistl turns to Javier who has a stern look on his face.

“What did you want, I’m busy.”

“I want to go to Cali boss.”

“No.”

“What, why not?”

“We’re not placing any agents there, not yet at least.”

“Right well if they do I’d like to go sir.”

“Mmm”

“Gotta say boss, that’s one fine piece of ass you got out there.You mind if I have a go?”

Javier can feel his blood boil, how dare he talk about you like that. Sure he has a reputation but he treated women with respect. He didn’t really know you that well but you could stand your own which he respected. Your different from the others, your intelligent, stubborn and your absolutely beautiful.

“Don’t talk about Y/N like that, if you harass her again I’ll have you on the next flight home.”

“Ok, you got it boss.”

***

It’s been two months since you became his secretary and he has fired you at least fifty times. You know it’s a challenge, that he is testing you, but you don’t give up easy. He’s started being kinder with you, offering to buy lunch on occasion. Your currently sat with him in the meeting room taking notes as the ambassador rambles on. He’s berating Javier for sending Feistl and VanNess to Cali and you can tell from his shoulders that he’s angry. When the meetings over he stands abruptly and leaves. You follow behind him, staying silent, knowing he likes it like this when he’s mad. He gets into the elevator and holds it open for you before pressing the correct button for your floor.

“He’s a dick.”

Javier wasn’t expecting you to say anything, certainly not that. You think you see a hint of a smile on his face.

“I think you did the right thing sending them, fucking bullshit deal, it’s a cop out..”

You don’t get to finish what you we’re saying as Javier pushes you back against the metal wall. He’s on you like a rash. He’s kissing you passionately and you can feel the heat coming off of him. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you flush against him. You can feel his growing erection straining against his trousers. You run your fingers through his hair pulling a low moan from him, one that shoots right to your core. You can feel the elevator come to a stop, Javier does too as he slowly pulls away from you. He whispers in your ear, “come find me later when everyone else is gone.” Then your alone.

***

Finishing up some paperwork, making sure no one is left in the office, you slowly approach Javier’s door. You raise your hand to knock when the door suddenly opens and he’s standing there looking at you with hooded eyes. He pulls you into him and once he closes the door, your back is pressed against it. His kiss is rough, hungry, like a man dying of thirst and your his only source of water.

“Wanted this for so long.”

“Really? How long?”

“Since that first day.”

He makes quick work of taking off both your clothes before moving you to the couch. He sits and pats his thighs, “come here baby, want you to ride me.” You walk towards him with sway of your hips. He grabs you by the hips, helping you straddle him. You sink down onto him slowly, savouring the feel of him stretching you. He groans at the feel of you hot and tight around him.

“So….damn tight baby.”

You start moving your hips slowly against him as he grips your hips tighter. He sucks on your hardened bud earning a moan from you.

“Javi….oh god….I’m going to…come.”

“That’s it baby come all over my cock. Wanna feel you grip me tight.”

Your body tingles all over as it erupts in ecstasy. You come hard with his name rolling off your tongue. He begins you thrust up meeting your movements as he grows impatient. Suddenly he flips you over, your back hitting the leather on the couch. He grabs one of your legs and holds it against his hip as he thrusts into you without abandon. You can feel the beginning of another orgasm,

“I’m close baby, want to feel you come on my cock one more time before I come.” He can feel you clamp down on him as your orgasm washes over you.

“So beautiful baby, who do you belong to?”

“Yours , all yours Javi.”

That’s all he needed as he releases into you. He slumps on top of you, careful as to not crush you. You run your fingers through his hair and he sighs at the feeling. He pulls out of you slowly and grabs a cigarette. You sit up and fiddle with your fingers unsure of what to do now. Do you stay or get dressed and leave? You know his reputation with women, he doesn’t do relationships. Deciding it’s best to leave you get up and start dressing. He sits there watching you as he smokes his cigarette.

“If you wait we can go get something to eat?”

“I…I actually just want to go home, I’m exhausted.” You gather your things, not noticing the hurt flash in Javier’s eyes.

“Yeah, I might hit the bar.”

You say nothing else as you leave for the night.

***

Your relationship with Javi is complicated, you work together and most nights you end up fucking in one apartment or the other. You love him, you know you do, you have for a while. You also know that Javi doesn’t do commitment, honestly your afraid to even tell him how you feel. In work things remain professional, he’s your boss and no one suspects a thing. Feistl might have a hunch but that’s it. The only time he claims you in work is after a bad meeting with the ambassador or Stechner. Which brings you to your current situation, bent over his desk, him pounding into you from behind. He’s rough today, not that you mind, he pulls you towards him by the hair until your back hits his chest. He grabs your breast and gives it a tight squeeze. It’s slightly painful but it still elicits a moan from you.

“Shh baby, gotta be quiet. Don’t want the whole office to know how well you take my cock.”

“It’s….just so….good.”

You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve come and you can feel another one hitting you. Javi is close too, you can tell from his sloppy thrusts.

“Can I…come inside you baby?”

“Yes….yes claim me, I’m yours.”

He’s quick to pull out of you and tuck himself back into his trousers. You pull down your skirt and put on your underwear. You both didn’t notice that Feistl had entered the room, catching you both fix yourselves up.

“I fucking knew it. You too have been fucking each other. VanNess you owe me 50 bucks.”

“Jesus will you keep it down.”

“How long has this been a thing?”

You don’t know what to say. It’s not really a thing you both just fuck each other nothing else, much as you would like. Javi comes up beside you placing his hand on your lower back. He pulls you into his side wrapping an arm around your waist. You look up at him stunned by his actions, only to find him already looking at you with adoration in his eyes.

“Not that’s it’s any of your business, but it’s been almost a year now, right baby?”

“Eh…”

“Screwing the boss is the only way you’ll get anywhere darlin.”

You feel Javier’s grip on you tighten and you know he is going to blow.

“I wouldn’t get to comfortable either, he’ll kick you to curb as soon as he gets bored.”

“You need to shut the fuck up, or you’ll be out of here by the end of the day. While we’re at it, don’t ever speak about Y/N like that, she’s better than half of you idiots. Now get out of my sight.”

When’s he’s gone Javier turns you in his arms so your facing him.

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah, did that just happen?”

“Don’t worry about him. I’m not good with this stuff, but I… I eh…look Y/N I want to be with you. Not just for a night or her in the office, like actually be with you.” He’s fidgety and you can tell he’s not used to talking about how he feels.

“Is thee Javier Pena asking me to be his girlfriend?” Your teasing him but there’s a part of you that hopes that’s what he wants.

“Well I wouldn’t say…”

How could you have been so stupid, of course he wouldn’t want that. You pull away from him and make your way to the door. He grabs your wrist and pulls you to him.

“Where are you going?”

“Look Javi, it’s fine, we’re fine, I know what we have isn’t anything special.”

“Hey hold on, did you not hear me when I said I wanted to be with you?”

“Yeah I did, but I am with you, we fuck..”

“You didn’t let me finish. What I was trying to say is that we don’t have to use those titles, I mean we’re not teenagers.”

“What. I….we….”

He’s getting annoyed now and runs his hand over his face, “ ok if it’s not what you want that’s fine.”

“No hey I want you Javi, I want to be your girlfriend. I just didn’t think you’d want that, I mean you don’t exactly scream commitment.”

He kisses you and it’s one of those kisses that leaves you breathless. Pulling away he rests his head against yours.

“I love you. This is all new to me, I’ve never felt this way about anyone, not even Lorraine. I’m all in, for as long as you’ll have me.”

“I love you too Javi.”

Tagging:

@lunaserenade @anaaaispunk @librariantothejedi @day-off-inkyoto @asta-lily @maievdenoir @elinedjarin @dindjarinneedsahug @pascal-rascal424 @pintsizemama @seasonschange-butpeopledont @janelongxox @stevie75 @thorins-queen-of-erebor @dihra-vesa @loserrlauraa @kirsteng42 @ikinmahlen @almaeunice @jediknight122 @colorlesswhispersunknown @rosie-posie08 @alberta-sunrise @javierpinme @pascalisthepunkest

#pedro pascal x reader #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal #javier pena x female reader #pedro pascal x female reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal smut

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Better Love Notes

If you’re confused about location, timing, or characters in my Narcos AU series Better Love, this is the post for you.

Better Love is an AU reader insert series that begins midway through Narcos season two. Because it is AU, and because Narcos is complicated af anyway, I wanted to take some time to clarify what things in Better Love will be different than what you're used to seeing in the show.

Hannah “Ears” Aarons

First, I think it’s important to clarify that Ears is more of an OC written in second person than she is a generic reader insert. I might refer to her as “you,” but Ears has a name, a face claim, a backstory, and a huge personality. If that bothers you loads, I totally understand and you’re free to duck out at any point, but don’t come at me. If you have specific questions regarding Ears’ background, personality, physical appearance, family history, or whatever else, get with me privately. I would love to introduce you to my chaotic sunshine child.

Official Job Title: Ears is officially an employee of the CIA, but she is not an agent (read: spy). She was brought to Colombia to be a liaison between Centra Spike, the DEA, and the CIA. She introduces herself to Search Bloc by saying, "I'll be your ears," but in reality, she was put in place to be Bill Strechner’s ears. More on that later. She has a background with the US Army that's basically useless (desk job), a ton of training and zero practical experience with flyover recon and radiofrequency tracking, and she's itching to do something real with her life.

Timing

Ears arrives in Bogotá around August of 1992 and falls in bed with Peña pretty much immediately. Horacio Carillo did die recently, but Javi did not start working with Los Pepes and Don Berna until November of 1992. Assume all of the drama with Martinez Jr. and Los Pepes took place around the time that he and Ears were on the outs - that's just another factor that led Javi to make the emotional, rash decision to work with the cartels that he winds up regretting.

There is actually a one year span of time between season two, episode six and the end of the show. Pretty much the entirety of Better Love (for now) takes place during this year, so if it seems like I’m really stretching things out, that’s actually because the show mushed it all together. I promise, guys, I have done my research here.

Locations

The majority of scenes in Better Love will take place in Bogotá, the capital city of Colombia. It’s important to keep Bogotá separate from Medellín, which is where the nit and grit of the hunt for Escobar takes place. 

Getting to Medellín from Bogotá requires a one hour flight or an eight hour drive (Colombia is roughly twice the size of Texas, fyi). For a gringo, driving around the cities was dangerous, but driving outside the cities was suicide. Javi and Steve might take planes, or they might take an armored chopper, depends on my mood when I'm writing. Assume there's a landing strip nearby the embassy, because I'm lazy like that.

The U.S. Embass(ies): Centra Spike, Search Bloc, and the DEA office are all housed in the old embassy building that's basically right across from the new one (the super upscale nice one that actually functions as an embassy). 

There's a lot of confusion and shuffling around in the show, so I wanted to clarify what goes where (also, the real Murphy and Peña had offices in the old, unused embassy, so this is sort of legit). For simplicity's sake, I am assuming that CNP (Colombian National Police) headquarters are also in or nearby this building. Ears might refer to "headquarters," "the office," or "the embassy," and it's all the same place. Basically, everything is centrally located in Bogotá, and when I refer to “the DEA office,” or “Javi’s office,” picture it from season one - two desks that are not shoved on top of each other, with glass windows and real filing cabinets. The CIA is also located here, as is Strechner's office and the fabled White Room.

These buildings are in Bogotá, nearby Peña’s and Murphy's apartments. I will differentiate between the New, Swanky, Functional U.S. Embassy by capitalizing it and giving it its full title. If I say “embassy,” assume I’m talking about the older one where Javi and Ears are based.

The Carlos Holguin School: This is the base of Search Bloc operations in Medellín, and the primary location that we see in season two of the show. Think of it almost as a military base - training grounds, barracks, bare-bones, no a/c, shitty food. Javi and Steve often stay at "the school" overnight while conducting operations in Medellín. They might also refer to this as “camping” or “the camp,” or “base.” It sucks balls. This is where Javi and Steve have their messy, shoved on top of each other desks that we tend to associate with the show. Javi and Steve still work from here just as often as we see in canon, there just won’t be as many scenes in this location because Ears is never there. 

Javi’s apartment: Javi and Steve primarily live in Bogotá. This is the same apartment building that you see in season one, with the big steps in front of the building and then an even larger set of stairs inside. There is also a big set of stairs on the back end of the building that leads to an underground parking garage (we see this in the season one finale, where Steve gets snatched by Navegante). This building is a five minute walk to the U.S. Embassy, but Javi and Steve mostly chose to drive for safety and convenience. It’s in a pretty decent part of Bogotá. There is one small canon deviation in regards to the apartments: in Better Love, Javi lives upstairs, across from Steve’s front door instead of below him like we see in the show. They share a large front landing. I just really liked the idea of Javi having a view of the city from his bedroom window.

Ears’ apartment: Ears lives in a tiny little flat on top of a drug store, a place that she found on her own through the friend of a work friend. It’s also in a decent part of Bogotá, but not quite as safe or upscale as Javi’s. It’s about a ten minute hike from the embassy and fifteen minutes from Javi’s place.

Miscellaneous 

CIA/DEA Collaboration: The relationship between the CIA and the DEA in Colombia was not pretty. The show makes it look like a personal conflict between Strechner and Peña, but in reality, it was so much deeper than that. These two organizations have opposing goals, and communication and sharing of information was a real problem. Basically, they squabble more than they collaborate, and there was a lot of backstabbing, underhanded fuckery, and generally getting in each other's way. Naturally, this is going to create tension between Ears and Javi.

Bill Stechner: The show makes it clear that Bill doesn’t give a shit about Escobar or the cartels except in regards to the power dynamics they create, but let me reiterate here - his primary goal in Colombia is to keep it from becoming a communist state. That’s all he wants.

OC Sicarios: Don't get Velasco (canon sicario) mixed up with Verdugo (my OC sicario). They are different characters. Verdugo is the guy who features in The Rules of Engagement. 

Feo is another sicario who is an OC. More updates on him later.

Canon Deviations in Better Love

Series spoilers from this point on. I’m going to take it fic by fic, so if you haven’t read something and don’t want to be spoiled, stop at the bold print. Again, Better Love is super fucking plotty, so I thought it was only fair to give you guys a reference sheet. Lord knows I need one, too.

The Rules of Engagement: Introduces Ears. Horacio Carillo did die recently, but Javi’s role in his death is undetermined/not mentioned. Javi does start working with Los Pepes during Rules, but only after he and Ears have their fallout. All of the bullshit with Martinez Jr. and the Castaño brothers takes place during the time that Javi and Ears aren’t speaking.

Aftershocks: Establishes with certainty that Javi is working with the cartels. His primary contact with Los Pepes is Don Berna. This is going to be critical later. Also establishes that Don Berna has more connection to the Cali cartel than he does in canon. 

Yours: Establishes that Connie Murphy is a badass biker bitch with a heart of gold, because I think the show did her dirty. She loves Steve and Steve loves her. Ears and Stechner get to know each other a little better, and Javi doesn’t like this one bit. Ears starts thinking about a leak in Search Bloc, and how dangerous that might be for Javi.

Bang: Javier Peña gives Ears a shady ass, probably trafficked gun for her protection. We don’t know details of where he got it. Solidifies the bro/sis relationship between Steve and Ears. Implies heavily that Javi is doing some shady things with some shady folks. A light introduction to the theme of weapons trafficking in Colombia, which was a massive problem that is barely even mentioned in the show. It will feature heavily in Better Love.

The Shoebox: Introduces the character of Arturo, Ana Delgado’s shady older brother. Ears starts wondering if Ana knows more than she should. Confirms that the Fernando Duque arc does take place in Better Love, and that Javi is genuinely torn up by it like he is in canon. This leads Ears to start thinking more deeply about that leak in Search Bloc, and she begins to actively collect evidence with the intention of sniffing out the rat and keeping Javi safe. Mentions sex trafficking, a major problem in Colombia at the time, and also a minor theme later on in Better Love.

Shit Hits the Fan: Establishes that Arturo Delgado is actually a hitman working with Los Pepes, and that he and Javi have gone on some raids together. Javi is desperate to keep this a secret from Ears, who is friends with Ana, both for her protection and because he’s kind of ashamed of how deep he’s in with Los Pepes. Establishes that in the wake of the Ferando Duque debacle, the Castaño brothers did not reach out to Stechner for help, but instead decided to put a hit out on Javi to either kill or scare him off. Javi is no longer working with Los Pepes, but he never did find out that Stechner was the one who set him up in the first place.

The White Room: Bill Stechner reveals to Ears that her purpose in Colombia is to be his own personal spy on the DEA. He is investigating a mysterious sicario named Feo in relation to a massive russian weapons ring. Bill wants Ears to report everything that the DEA learns about Feo because he suspects that Feo might have connections with FARC, a communist guerrilla group that is Stechner’s public enemy number one. Ears realizes that she’s in deep shit, and also realizes the depth of the resentment between the DEA and the CIA, and how much their goals in Colombia actually oppose. Stechner is revealed to be a real bag of dicks here.

Closing notes

Whew, okay. I will update this post periodically if more information becomes necessary or if you guys have questions, and I’ll reblog it if I do. I’m going to go ahead and tag my taglist folks in this, just because it’s a huge information dump. Of course, you probably don't need to know these things to get the gist of what’s going on in Better Love, but if you’re a chronic overanalyzer like me, it might be helpful. 

Also, let me know if you guys want a list of the characters who are major players in the series. I know I had to make one for myself but I wasn’t sure if posting it would be overkill (this is probably already overkill, tbh).

Tags: @jedi-mando, @aerolanya, @pikemoreno, @bitchin-beskar, @mostly-megan, @huliabitch, @starsandmando, @starlight-starwrites​, @thirstworldproblemss, @knittingqueen13, @yespolkadotkitty

Javier Peña tags: @magpie-to-the-morning, @tiffdawg, @danniburgh, @1800-fight-me

Mad love to you guys if you’ve stuck around for this long.

#Javier Peña #Javier Peña x reader #Narcos #pedro pascal #Narcos fanfiction #Javier Peña x you #Javier Peña fanfiction #Better Love #the rules of engagement #better love notes

[nineteenninety-six]

Meet me back in Texas

Not sure if I completely like this one as it’s a bit messy and all over the place but I’ve been dying to do some Pedro/Javier content

Javier Peña x Reader

Summary: Reader is no longer sure if she can continue living in Colombia with Javi

[PART TWO]

WORD COUNT: 2266

(Y/N) dejectedly stared at the plate opposite her, it was stone cold, just like the one in front of her. She pushed herself away from the table with a disappointed sigh, it was nearing one am and she had to admit to herself that Javier wasn’t coming home anytime soon.

Shimmying out of the dress she wore for the occasion, (Y/N) let the tears she had been holding in for the past hour fall. She wasn't all that surprised but Javier had repeatedly promised that he'd be back home earlier so that they could have dinner together but once again, Escobar had taken priority and Javier was most likely off somewhere in Colombia trying to chase him. After switching off all the lights and placing the food into containers and into the fridge, (Y/N) slipped into bed and cried herself to sleep.

As she woke up and got herself ready for the day ahead of her, (Y/N) realised that Javier didn’t end up coming home at all. She didn't want to be reactionary but she was wondering if this was the life for her; late and lonely nights, staying up late wondering if Javier was okay, wondering if every person she encounters works for Escobar and if they were going kill her. It was times like this where she admired Connie greatly.

Deciding to head to work early so she could distract herself, (Y/N) quickly locked up the house and started the twenty-minute walk it took to the local hospital, Javier usually dropped her off on his way to work but since he wasn’t here, she had to go by herself. 

(Y/N) walked briskly to the hospital, her hand tightly clenched around the pocketknife Javier had begged for her to carry around, he initially wanted her to carry a gun but she refused to so they settled on a knife. 

Breathing a sigh of relief as she approached the hospital, (Y/N) hurriedly skipped up the stairs and slipped into the building, thankful that nothing had happened on her journey over. The hospital was still quiet, most of the patients were still asleep and the doctors and nurses were making their rounds, (Y/N) quietly made her way to the floor she was supposed to be on and got stuck in with work, losing track of time.

"(Y/N)!" Connie's call of her name broke her focus from the papers she was looking over.

A glance to her watch told her it was 10 am, the actual time her shift should have started if she hadn't decided to go in early. Her and Connie often shared shifts and that along with being the partners of DEA agents allowed them to become really close friends. They didn't even know they were connected through Javier and Steve until a group dinner but after that, they became even closer, glad at finding someone who was going through the exact same thing they were.

"Connie" (Y/N) smiled at her friend.

"Dr Garcia said you came in early" Connie went straight to the point.

"I woke up early so I decided to come in early" (Y/N) explained before focusing back on the paperwork 

"Did Javi drop you off? I knocked earlier as I was leaving but no-one answered" 

(Y/N) shook her head, "Javi didn't come home last night so I'm assuming him and Steve had to stay late for a lead or something." 

When Connie didn't immediately respond, (Y/N) turned to face her and frowned, Connie was biting her lip, a look of pity on her face. 

"Steve came home last night" It wasn't really a question but Connie nodded anyway.

(Y/N) squeezed her eyes shut, unable to believe that Javier had ditched her.

"Do-do you think he's cheating on me?" (Y/N) whispered.

Connie quickly pulled her up and dragged them into a supply closet, the only place where they'd get any sort of privacy.

"Don't be ridiculous, Javi loves you" Connie scolds her.

“He promised me last week that he would come home earlier than usual so we can have a dinner date together. I spent all day yesterday preparing the food he likes the most and he doesn’t even appear, I didn’t even get a telephone call saying that he can’t come. I sat at that table until one in the morning, Connie and he didn’t even come home at all.” (Y/N) sobbed.

“Oh, sweetheart” Connie brought (Y/N) into a hug, shushing her.

“I don’t know if I can do this anymore.”

“You want to break up with Javi?” Connie couldn’t believe what she was hearing

“I-I don’t know. I love him with all my heart but living in Colombia and worrying if I’m going to get attacked by one of Escobar’s men because I’m connected to Javi, weighs so much on me.”

“Talk to him. Talk to Javi before you do anything rash.” Connie convinced her

“You’re right, yeah. I’ll talk to him.” (Y/N) wiped her tears and gave Connie a hug, thankful for the woman’s advice and friendship.

Neither of them brought up Javier for the rest of the day, focusing on their work instead. As their shift was winding to a close, they prepared for the walk home something they did often as they lived in the same building. Steve was waiting for Connie in his car outside of the hospital but he stepped out once he noticed them walking down the steps,

“I’d thought I leave early and take you ladies home” Steve explained to them before they could even ask, flashing a grin to his wive.

(Y/N) was grateful, she hated walking back to the apartment when it was late and dark. Initially, Steve and Javier would alternate taking the women home from the hospital, taking a brief break to drive over before heading back to work but as they grew closer to catching Escobar it meant that her and Connie had to make their own way home.

“I knew there was a reason I married you.” Connie quipped, giving Steve a hug and a kiss.

“Is Javi still at the station?” (Y/N) asked

“Uh yeah he should be”

“Would it be too much to ask if you are able to take me there?”

“Of course not. We’ll drop Connie off first and then I’ll take you.” Steve could tell something was up but decided not to ask knowing Connie would probably tell him that evening.

“Thank you.” (Y/N) gave him a grateful smile before she slipped into the back seat.

(Y/N) sat in silence as they drove to the apartment building, listening to Connie and Steve tell each other about their day. (Y/N) waved Connie goodbye and told her that she’ll see her tomorrow as they pulled up outside of the apartment and Connie excited the car, Steve waited until Connie got in safely and (Y/N) had moved into the front seat before leaving.

“Thanks again for taking me, Steve.” (Y/N) watched as the streets sped by as they drove through the streets of Bogotá.

“No problem.” Steve glanced at her, “Do you wanna tell me what’s up? You don’t have to but Connie will probably tell me anyway”

(Y/N) sighed, “I don’t know if I can stay here in Colombia with Javi anymore. I don’t think I can take it anymore.”

“I thought you guys were fine, what spurred this on?” 

“Last night, I made dinner for the two of us after he promised me he would come home early last week. I stayed up to one am waiting for him and he didn’t come home at all. At first, I thought the two of you had to go somewhere but then Connie told me that you came home last night.”

“Jesus fuckin’ christ Javi” Steve muttered under his breath, “Have you spoken to him?”

“That’s why I asked you to take me to the office, I’m not sure the next time he’d be at home so that I can speak to him.” (Y/N) explained

“You do whatever you think is right but remember Javi loves you more than anything. The late nights are him wanting to catch Escobar as soon as possible so that he can move back to the states with you.” 

“I know Javi loves me and I love him too. Me leaving wouldn’t be me breaking up with him but rather just a small break. I still want to get married to him and spend the rest of my life with him but the longer I stay in Colombia, the worst I feel.”

“I’m glad you still want to be Javi because he said I could be the best man at his wedding and I expect him to keep his promise.” Steve grinned at her causing her to laugh.

The fact that Javi wanted to get married to her wasn’t news to her, they had been speaking about it for a while and both of them knew that it was going to happen at one point.

“If you’re the best man, does that mean Connie is the maid of honour?” 

“I doubt she’ll have it any other way” Steve said making both of them laugh again.

Steve pulled up outside of the station but stopped her before she could leave the car, “Hey, do whatever is best for you. Javi will understand and support you.”

“Thank you, Steve.”

“You want me to wait?”

“Nah, go back home to Connie, I’m sure Javi will take me home.”

Steve nodded and (Y/N) stepped out of the car, waving as Steve drove away.

(Y/N) walked through the station, knowing the route to Javier’s and Steve office like the back of her hand. When she arrived she peered through the open door and saw Javier bent over the desk with a cigarette in his hand.

“Hey..” (Y/N) knocked on the door to announce her presence before she stepped in. 

Javier looked up and expression turned into surprise when he saw (Y/N) standing in front of him.

“(Y/N)? What are you doing here darlin’?” Javier stood up and made his way over to her, sweeping her up into a crushing hug.

“I missed you. You didn’t come home last night.” (Y/N) hugged him back, just as tightly.

“I know honey, I’m so sorry. I got some intel and got carried away.” Javier pressed a kiss to her forehead.

Javier dragged Steve’s chair over to his desk and placed it next to his and guided (Y/N) to sit on it before he sat in his.

“I know I promised I’d be home for dinner but the quicker we catch Escobar the quicker we can go back home to Texas.”

“You didn’t even call Javi.” 

“Lo siento mi amor” Javier took (Y/N)’s hands into his and pressed a gentle kiss to them.

“Javi...we need to talk.” (Y/N) was slightly scared but she knew she had to do this.

Javier could hear the seriousness in her voice and squeezed her hands encouragingly and kept silent so she didn’t feel pressured.

“I love you Javi, with all my heart and I want to spend the rest of my life with you but I don’t think I can stay here with you in Colombia anymore. I feel like I’m suffocating living here, worrying that every person that I come across might be working for Escobar or staying up all night wishing and praying that you haven’t been murdered is too much for me Javi.” (Y/N) began to sob as she was speaking.

Javier pulled her into a hug and pressed multiple soft kisses to her head, shushing her and slowly rocking from side to side,

“Don’t cry. Don’t cry, sweetheart.”

“Oh Javi, I’m so sorry.” (Y/N) wrapped her arms around him, not wanting to let go.

“Listen to me, don’t apologize.” Javier pulled back so that he could look into (Y/N)’s eyes, “If you don’t feel safe or comfortable here then you should go home.”

“Aren’t you upset?”

“I’m devastated but I love you more than anything. I haven’t treated you fairly since we’ve come down but you alive, well and happy in Texas is better than you upset and uncomfortable in Bogotá,”

“I love you.” (Y/N) pressed a kiss to Javier’s lips 

“I love you too, mi vida.”

One week later

(Y/N) and Javier stood in the airport wrapped in a hug as they waited for the call for (Y/N)’s plane to San Antonio.

“Make sure papá stays out of trouble whilst you’re there.”

(Y/N) snorted into his shoulder, “I don’t think anyone can keep your father out of trouble Javi.”

“Hmm, that’s true.”

“Sounds like someone I know.” Javier pinched her bum at her jab causing her to laugh.

“Attention passengers. We will now start boarding flight 849 to San Antonio, Texas at gate seven”

The couple sighed as they pulled away from each other,

“That’s me.” 

“Call me when you get home, no matter what time.” Javier reminded her

“Of course.”

The couple shared goodbye a kiss that contained a lot of emotions and unspoken words.

“You kill that bastard Escobar and you come back to me okay?” (Y/N) peered up at Javier.

“I’ll come back to you no matter what.”

They shared one more kiss before (Y/N) shouldered her purse and walked away to her gate, glancing one more time at Javier before she disappeared behind the crowd.

#narcos #narcos imagine #javier pena #javier pena x reader #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal imagine #x reader #imagines #angst #javier peña #javier peña x reader #fanfic #narcos fanfic #javier pena imagines

[iamdatfilmbitch]

La Casa de Papel, Part Three

When I realized my favorite gang of thieves would be doing another robbery, I assumed Part Three would be repetitive and unnecessary. But I was quickly proven wrong. First off, the location of the robbery was different of course. The gang couldn’t return to the same goal of printing their own money in the Royal Mint of Spain. Instead, they planned to melt and steal gold from the Bank of Spain. The gang itself wasn’t the same either. We lost Berlin and Moscow, but gained Stockholm & Lisbon from prior seasons, as well as some brand new members like Palermo, Marseille and Bogotá. Lastly, and probably most importantly, the police in charge of the case were different. Colonel Tamayo and Inspector Sierra replaced Colonel Prieto and Inspector Murrillo (aka Lisbon). This new team of police is much smarter, more unpredictable, and therefore a bigger threat than the Professor is used to.

The plan for this robbery (originally formulated by Berlin and Palermo which we see via flashbacks) was set into motion after Rio was arrested in Panama. Tokyo sought the Professor’s help, and he reunited the gang from all corners of the world to do what they do best. Initially, I didn’t understand how a robbery would get Rio back. But it began to make sense as the season progressed. The Professor would negotiate the release of a few hostages in exchange for Rio. I was extremely nervous when the police just let Rio waltz into the Bank to rejoin the gang. It can’t be that easy, I kept thinking, please don’t kill him! But the exchange was successful. The cops did plant a mic and GPS tracker inside Rio’s body, but of course the Professor had a solution for that. Nothing to worry about right?

WRONG! The last two episodes were so intense and ended with me bawling my eyes out. Rio breaks up with Tokyo, which is basically like setting off a ticking time bomb! My heart raced with fear that she would cause someone to get hurt again. Inspector Sierra uses Nairobi’s son against her, and Nairobi gets shot in the process (I’m praying my fav will still be alive in Part Four). And the Professor falls for Sierra’s trap as he listens while Lisbon is captured and the cops pretend to execute her. “This isn’t a robbery, or a challenge to the system,” he later tells Palermo, “This is war!” The gang destroys an armored police tank outside the bank, and the war begins.

Numerous times throughout the series, the Professor stresses rule #1: no romantic relationships. But even he couldn’t help but break that rule. We’ve seen the rash decisions made by people in love, such as Tokyo with Rio or Nairobi with her son or Arturo with Monica (really how dumb was Arturo to go back into the robbery a second time). Now we see it with the the Professor and Lisbon, which may be the most dangerous love story of them all. The gang has so much support from the public because they’re seen as Robin Hoods; taking from the corrupt system and giving back to the people without really harming anyone. Will they still be treated with such praise after setting a police tank on fire? I’m still rooting for my gang but the police are definitely winning this time around. I just can’t believe I have to wait until January to see what happens next...

Part One

Part Two

#la casa de papel #money heist #royal mint #the professor #sergio marquina #raquel murillo #monica gaztambide #arturo roman #bank of spain #colonel prieto #colonel tamayo #alicia sierra #salvador dali #nairobi #alvaro morte #berlin #tokyo #denver #rio #palermo #helsinki #suarez #netflix

[pepepateanazis]

Al fascismo no se le discute, se le destruye

(///)

Frente Antifa de Engativa

Rash Bogotá

[whereintheworldisaca]

October 17 & 18

A long awaited update with a quick summary to fast forward to /today/

The 17th, a sunday, We woke up early in the morning to go to the town of Purificacion for a youth soccer match. The ones playing were family friends of Javier and Yaneth. They had rented out a small bus to take all of us to the match. Initially it was me, yaneth, Javier, Sofi, Laurita, Tia Anita, Alfonso, and his wife Esperanza. We piled in and headed to another house where we needed to pick up more people. At this point in time I did not realize just how many more people we needed to pick up. As some kids form the team and their parents started to pile in ( keep in mind the bus was not very big so it involved putting the kids on everyones laps. At this point, Alonso started panicking and saying he was going to stay instead, and that he would walk back to the house. It was kinda funny, but also at the same time interesting to see someone who was claustrophobic react to that kind of situation. So the driver drove us back to the house and dropped off everyone else besides me, sofi, and yaneth so that Javier would be able to drive the rest of our group in his car to spare Alonso from his panic attack. We managed to pack the car with people and drove to Purificacion to make it 30 minutes before the match started. Sofi and I slept on the way there so I cant say much for the view. When we arrived we walked the town a little bit and found a place to eat. It was SO HOT and the air felt really humid. I ended up getting a heat rash on the inside of my writst that itched sooooo bad. Once the rain came through and cooled everything down it eventually went away. After the game we went to a tour on a Lancha (a small flat boat with some seats and hood) to see the lake nearby that took us to a swimming spot. Although I was not prepared to swim, I didn’t mind jumping in and enjoying the warm water. We started the tour a little late so by the time we got back it was already dark. The parking lot was full so the driver parked at the bottom of the mountain, which means we had to walk down in the dark. With everyone it was actually pretty funny despite that it was drizzling a little bit. 

We were all pretty exhausted from the long day and ready to head back. Not even 20 minutes into the drive we got a flat tire in the town of purificacion. Which was fine, took a few minutes to replace the tire and then we were on the move again. 15 minutes outside of the town they started to smell something burning and pulled the car over. Because the car  would not turn on, and the lights weren’t working we (me, another kid i forget his name, sofi and yaneth) had to stand with our flashlights alerting cars that we were broken down so that they would see us. It took one hour for them to fix the problem and we were back on the road again. I stood off the back of the bus on the way back, which was really cool but also a little tiring having to use all that arm strength to hold on LOL. 

We were all pretty excited the closer we got to town, but the night was not over for us yet. 30 minutes before getting to Ortega the car starts making a loud scraping noise (?) and the pull over again to find something wrong for the third time that evening. This time it took us about 30 minutes to get things figured out before we were back on the road and in town. Everyone was VERY relieved to have finally made it. I think we managed to get back at 11pm. As it was our last day there we said our goodbyes, and went to sleep. 

The following morning was another early day of packing and heading back to Bogotá. the 5 hour drive turned into another longer day because we had pico y placa which means we couldn’t use the highways in the city. So we took the back roads and stopped at Tia Anitas house first and visited a little with Fani and Tia Anita while Javier went to take pictures of a nearby building for his work. 

After an hour we went back home and CRASHED hard. 

It was such a fun weekend and they definitely made me practice my spanish. Also, it had been a long time since I had heard the word “jeta” 

some mom kept telling her kid to put on her “tapa-jeta” which made me laugh really hard. 

More to come... See you somewhere!

[antifainternational]

May 13, Hamburg

#germany #deutschland #antifa #antifascism #antifascist action #antifaschismus #antifaschistische aktion #rash bogotá #colombia

[cbwalive]

SUPER ESTRELLA EP. 5

We welcome you to Super Estrella in The Bogotá Arena in beautiful downtown Bogotá Colombia 

Tonight we will see in action, The CBWA Intercontinental Champion @HotstuffINT007 plus City Council, Bubba and Z-Man in tag action 

Tonight we also see the in ring return of @HippieFH and @IAPT38, but let’s not forget perhaps the biggest contract signing that I can think of in pro wrestling history -- The CBWA World Heavyweight Title @TheEyeOfGibson and @GOLDBERGEN1 will be in the ring to make it official at The Great Bogotá Bash.

First, let’s take it to the ring and our ring.

HARRY BOROWITZ vs HOT STUFF EDDIE GILBERT

Here comes the CBWA Intercontinental Champion, Hot Stuff Eddie Gilbert.

  “Ladies and the gentlemen the following contest set for one fall with a 15 min time limit, introducing first currently in the ring from Santa Marta, Colombia. weighing in at 213LBS -- Harry Borwitz.”

Don’t forget last week where we saw the biggest upset in CBWA history, Harry Borwitz pinned @FootVonErich. 

As we take it back to the “Fink”...and his opponent from Medellín, Colombia by way of  Lexington, Tennessee, he is The CBWA Intercontinental Champion Hot Stuff Eddie Gilbert.” 

The crowd is loving @HotstuffINT007 - an all time favorite here in Bogota.

The bell rings and both men shake hands as a show of respect.

Collar and elbow tie up and Hot Stuff takes control with a headlock. 

Borwitz reverses and takes Hot Stuff down with a surprising leg sweep. Hot Stuff looks up with a smirk, just then @FootVonErich comes out and starts scouting.

@HotstuffINT007 sees Foot and starts laughing and counts 1-2-3 and tells Foot to watch. 

Another collar and elbow tie up, again Gilbert with a headlock and Borwitz moves them to the ropes and whips Gilbert to the other side  -- @FootVonErich trips Hot Stuff and Gilbert is pissed.

Eddie grabs Foot and they start fighting back and forth. Foot throws Gilbert into the ring steps and Gilbert just went down hard, he’s holding onto his leg.

Back in the ring the referee, Nicholas Patrick is counting and Gilbert is hurt.

The ref calls 10 and rings the bell and Foot walks to the back laughing.

WINNER: by count out HARRY BOROWITZ

Gilbert holding his knee in pain as we go to the “Fink.” 

“The winner of the match via count out, Harry Borwitz.” 

Borwitz is on a win streak now and we will be right back as the medics tend to Gilbert.

We are back ladies and gentlemen and the medics are still tending to @HotstuffINT007 and carefully helping him to the back with what looks like an apparent knee injury.

Wait just a minute, @FootVonErich is back out and chop blocks Hot Stuff.

Gilbert is screaming in pain as Foot is yelling, “laugh now baby.” 

Foot heads towards the interview table and grabs the mic, “Hey look at your CBWA Intercontinental Champion now baby, this is supposed to be one of the greatest?  Well get a good look cause your looking at greatness baby and at The Great Bogotá Bash, you are looking at the next CBWA Intercontinental Champion.” 

Foot walks off to a course of boos.

As we go back to the ring to the “Fink. Our next match is a tag team match scheduled for one fall with a 15 minute time limit.

Introducing first currently in the ring from parts unknown with a total combined weight of 457LBS, here are Masked Assassin 1 and Masked Assassin 2, The Masked Assassins.” 

Here comes @BigBubbaBogo and @bogota_Zman. 

“Their opponents, from The Mayor’s Mansion in beautiful Bogotá, Colombia. At a total combined weight of 558LBS,  City Council.

City Council get off to a quick start by jumping Demolition.

Bubba takes Max and whips him into the ropes and nails him with the Bubba Slam.

Zenk drop kicks Rash and this thing is over like that 1-2-3.

WINNERS: CITY COUNCIL, BUBBA & ZMAN

Very impressive win for City Council as we take you to Kenny Resnick  at the interview table.

“Thank you guys, City Council come on in here --  a very impressive win for you guys as you get ready for your big title match against @TheEyeOfGibson and @gator_zz at the Great Bogotá Bash. Your thoughts gentlemen.” 

Zenk takes the mic. “Kenny, City Council have been waiting for months, hell years for an opportunity like this but we always got looked over because @TheEyeOfGibson always had a say, well now that Mr. John Schneider has taken over, things are finally, rightfully coming our way.

At The Great Bogotá Bash, Gibson and his little Stone Cold wannabe partner will be serving hard time, tell them big man. 

Bubba now has the mic. “Gibson for a very long time now, you’ve been making fun of me. Trying to get under my skin and you got  away with it because you had some power around here. Well just like your hair that’s all gone, I’m gonna give you the beating of your life at The Great Bogotá Bash. Those Tag Titles will come home to the City Council chambers.” 

Kenny then says, “What about what you said last week Bubba, that you will present the Mayor @fakestanlane at The Great Bogotá Bash. We still haven’t heard from him since he helped you at our last PPV, what is going on with the Mayor?” 

Bubba says, “Kenny like I said before it’s none of your business, but I will say this, Mayor Lane has been getting ready for his campaign and our new associates have donated a really nice donation to get the campaign rolling.” 

Kenny interrupts, “who are these associates you keep talking about?” 

Bubba tells Kenny that their interview is over.

We’ll have to wait and see what exactly The Mayor and his Associates have in store at The Great Bogotá Bash, we’ll be right back.

Welcome back to Super Estrella.

Let’s take you back to last week and the on going feud between @TheEyeOfGibson and the CBWA Head of Creative, Mr. John Schneider.

After Mr. Schneider received a gift from the BS Service, a framed picture of him cutting off the hair of @TheEyeOfGibson -- Gibson showed up to Bogotá Arena in a Monster Truck and proceeded to run over The General Lee.

He then jumped in the ring and smashed the framed picture over the head of Mr. Schneider, busting him wide open.

As we went off the air, we saw John Schneider smiling, full of blood. 

Now we hear that Mr. Schneider did receive quite a few stitches but will be here tonight to address The Eye of Gibson.  

Let’s go to the ring. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall with a 15 minute time limit. 

Currently in the ring from Ocaña, Colombia, weighing in 179 LBS -- Principal Dick Pound.”

“And his opponent,  from Santiago de Cali Colombia, weighing in at 224LBS -- he is The Phenomenal A J Styles.” 

A huge pop for AJ.

The bell rings and Dick Pound goes for a mafia kick but AJ ducks and nails Pound with a Pele kick. 

AJ goes for a flying forearm nails it. Cover, 1-2-3!

WINNER: AJ STYLES 

What a phenomenal win for @IAPT38 as we take it to Kenny Resnick at the interview table.

 “Thank you guys, AJ, great win for you tonight but what can we expect for the Phenomenal one in 2021?” 

AJ now has the mic. “Kenny, what I just did was a lesson. That lesson is don’t bet against AJ Styles in 2021. I promise you, I will have gold around my waist and it starts at The Great Bogotá Bash because I am going to be the first person to officially announce that I’m entering the Battle Royal and I will go on to headline Drug Wars 5 and claim my name in CBWA history.” 

“Well, there you hear it folks. The first entrant in the Great Bogota Bash Battle Royal, The phenomenal Colombian, AJ Styles.

And welcome back folks to Super Estrella.

“Thanks guys please welcome to the Bogotá Arena the former CBWA World Heavyweight Champion @FrankConverseMO.” 

Frank comes out to a nice pop.

“Frank, welcome back to the Bogotá Arena as you can see you have been missed. How was your holiday big man?”

 “Well Kenny, first off it’s good to be back in front of these great fans in the Bogotá Arena. As you all know 2020 was a great year. I was on top of the world, a huge action star and then the CBWA World Heavyweight Champion, but the one thing that was missing while I was getting all these accomplishments was my son. 

I didn’t have @BoltsyAmsterdam by my side. Now, we are slowly on the path to rebuilding that trust that every dad and son need. Like the relationship I had with my old man. 

Now a certain somebody by the name of @OxBogota decided to get in my son’s business and cost him a match. Well Ox, I want you to listen to this very closely, what comes around goes around and when that day comes, I will not hold my son back.” 

@OxBogota comes out to a course of boo’s grabs the mic.

“Well Frank, it seems you have lost a lot here lately but the most important thing that you lost is your mind if you think your so called “son” is going to put his hands on me, like he did last week. I have no beef with you big fella but do me a favor, tell your “boy” that next time he gets in my face, I will slap him down like the good little bitch he is.” 

Wait, here comes @BoltsyAmsterdam storming after Ox and it is on.

CBWA officials are again trying to separate these two men.

Ox is heading out of here and Boltsy grabs the mic. 

“Ox, if you are any kind of a man then at The Great Bogotá Bash, you face me one on one.......in a Bogotá Death Match!!!!!” 

Frank grabs the mic, “Son have you lost your mind?” 

Boltsy replies, “stay out of my life old man and leave me alone for god sakes.” 

Boltsy storms off and Frank looks distraught as we take you to the ring.

Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is set for one fall with a 15 minute time limit. Currently in the ring from Sogamoso Colombia, weighing in at 237LBS --  here is Corporal Kirchner.”

Here comes The Dragon.

“His opponent from Tierralta, Colombia, weighing in at 234LBS -- he is the Colombian Dragon” 

The bell rings and we are under way.

@HippieFH is in great shape and leg sweeps poor Corporal Kirchner, followed by a arm drag take down into a drop kick to the face.

The Dragon is going to the top for his signature flying head butt and nails it and now he is calling for the Dragon Sleeper. 

He puts it on Corporal Kirchner who passes out and the bell rings. 

WINNER: by submission The Colombian Dragon.” 

Dragon grabs the mic from The Fink.

Styles, sorry to crush your dreams pal because I’m officially entering myself in the Great Bogota Bash Battle Royal. That means your big dream you just laid out, is going to become a nightmare and I’m your Freddy Kruger.” 

The Dragon and the CBWA crowd starts chanting Si and we will be right back folks.

DON’T MISS THE GREAT BOGOTA BASH  SUNDAY, JANUARY 24, 2021 ONLY ON PAY-PER-VIEW!

And welcome back to an already exciting episode of Super Estrella.

As we head to the back, we see 2 limousines pull up.

Out comes Mr. John Schneider and the BS Service.

Mr. Schneider and the BS Service come out to an echo of boos.

The ring is set up for the contract signing for @TheEyeOfGibson and @GOLDBURGEN.

The King of Bogota is strutting around the ring with his BS Services. 

@bogota_mizanin takes the mic.

“Hey ZZ, how’s the food in jail ha ha. You are where you belong you bum and I can’t wait to beat your ass at The Great Bogotá Bash and have you kiss my ass! I’m not afraid of you ZZ, you are looking at the greatest CBWA South American Champion and the Colombian A-lister. The Miz is now posing with his South American Title.

CBWA Head of Creative John Schneider takes the mic, “Well doesn’t this look nice, we have a nice table set up here, office chairs, contracts, all we are missing are the participants.

So I know you two goofs are back there, @TheEyeOfGibson come on down pal.” 

Gibson makes his way down the aisle and stands in front of the ring, Mr. Schneider says “what’s wrong Bob? Huh? You don’t wanna come in the ring? Oh it’s because my guys are in here. Well no worries, boys go ahead and step out the ring.” 

The BS Service exits the ring but are still hanging out of the outside. “Go ahead Bob take a seat, now let’s bring your opponent out.

Ladies and gentlemen the CBWA World Heavyweight Champion @GOLDBERGEN1” 

Goldberg music hits and he makes his way down the aisle but it looks like @parody_reigns is standing in his way and we have another stare down between Goldberg and Reigns.

John Schneider says, “Hey @parody_reigns it’s all good let the champ pass, come on in champ have a seat.

Now ladies and gentlemen, this is the contract signing for the main event of The Great Bogotá Bash for the CBWA World Heavyweight Championship. I take it both of you guys have read through the contract?

Mr. Gibson we all know you can’t read so hopefully you had one of your drunk bums read it to you. Don’t forget Mr. Gibson, as it is in this contract -- when you lose to Mr. Goldberg, you will become a servant to me and the BS Service for the next 30 days.

If you do not comply, then I will fire your ass on the spot and you will be no more, I guarantee it!

Now with that said before both of you sign this, I will give both of you gentlemen the opportunity to speak. 

Mr. Gibson, your eye can go first. 

The Gibson’s rats start screaming for him as he takes the mic.

 “First off, what’s with the band aid on your head, did you get a boo boo there Johnny? 

Look I know where this is heading. You’re setting me up for failure because you have me and my tag partner in a match right before this one so I won’t be 100%. 

I’m going to tell you something and especially you champ, don’t take me lightly because I will not give up and I’ll be damned that I will be a servant to these ass clowns. 

Bring your A game champ because I’m coming for that right there and I will be the CBWA World Heavyweight Champion again, whether you or him or anybody else that’s outside this ring likes it or not.

Gibson signs the contract.

Goldberg takes the mic. “I understand what is going on Bob and it kills me to say this but I’m going to spear the crap out of you and beat you at The Great Bogota Bash.

I’ve worked too hard to get this belt only to lose it a month later, that ain’t going happen and don’t worry I’ll bring my A game because my friend you are next.” 

Goldberg signs the contract.

John Schneider says, “There you go it’s official. 

Now boys, get them!” 

All of the BS members gets up on the ring and @gator_zz music hits and everybody is looking towards the entrance.

Wait ZZ jumps over the barricade and has a chair -- he’s standing right behind the Miz.

Miz turns around and ZZ nails him and BAM -- ZZ hits a gator stunner on The Miz!

The brawl is on.

Gibson, Goldberg and ZZ are fighting off the BS Service. The trio is taking out a BS Service member one by one. Goldberg spears Reigns and Gibson close lines him over the top.

ZZ stuns @JannettyThe over the top.

John Schneider is irate as the three are in the ring standing off the BS Service.

Gibson and Goldberg bump into each other and turn around almost deck one another.

Goldberg starts laughing at Gibson as the two are jawing at each other.

WAIT -- Reigns comes back in....

Reigns, super kicked by Gibson and speared by Goldberg again! 

Folks we are out of time, we will see you next Thursday on CBWA Super Estrella!!!!!!

[ohmoguer]

Estreno de la temporada completa Miércoles 10 de agosto, exclusivamente en Star+ Protagonizada por las actrices y los actores colombianos Marcela Mar, Martina García y Rashed Estefenn, filmada en la ciudad de Bogotá y realizada por Vista Productions, “No fue mi culpa. Colombia” presenta una colección de historias unitarias basadas en casos reales de violencia de género, entrelazadas a lo largo de la serie por un intrigante relato. En una era marcada por el empoderamiento femenino, y a través de una temática real y relevante abordada en tono de denuncia social, narra un caso distinto en cada episodio unitario, al tiempo que presenta una historia central que actúa como hilo conductor y gira en torno a Ángela Iregui (Mar), una abogada determinada y audaz que se ve involucrada de distintas maneras en los casos. La serie está escrita por Ana María Parra Vázquez y dirigida por Felipe Cano y Cecilia Vásquez. https://www.instagram.com/p/CgnFAB1Oqvb/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[antifainternational]

December 2, Bogotá - Fuck the RAC Festival

#antifa #antifascism #antifascist action #acción antifascista #antifascismo #bogotá #colombia #festival #antifascist music #RASH

[antifainternational]

October 21, Bogotá - Lo Nuestro Fest

#antifa #antifascism #antifascist action #acción antifascista #antifascismo #bogotá #rash #colombia