lazybutsmexy

[lazybutsmexy]

you finally confess your attraction to the hot priest and he's like "oh darling, I thought you'd never ask" and proceeds to bite your neck and turn you into another catholic priest

[lazybutsmexy]

you've got diamonds for teeth, my love 💎

[lazybutsmexy]

Squidward clocking out of the Krusty Krab and heading to the nearest gay after hours event 

[lazybutsmexy]

peeing after robot sex so i dont get an hdmi

[lazybutsmexy]

guys idek what to say i'm speechless,,, only thing i can say right now is that i'm so glad that i'm caught up with the manga because it's only going to get crazier from here on out and i'm all for it

i'm also going to drop this here very casually...

[lazybutsmexy]

𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗌, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 i 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗁𝗎𝗌𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽!𝗃𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝖼𝖾, (𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗃𝗈𝗁𝗇 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾𝗌𝗍) 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗐 i 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗂’𝖽 𝗅𝖾𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗎𝗒𝗌 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐.

[lazybutsmexy]

Morning After: Bonus Chapter

Alejandro Vargas x Female Reader

I know there was a request for this. It was sitting in my inbox for ages. But somewhere along the way, the physical ask disappeared when I went to make the draft. Thanks a lot, Tumblr. But this user knows who they are! (They saw it on Ao3 first).

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Morning After - 141 Imagines Link

Content & Warnings: brief alcohol mention, one night stand, brief cock warming, unprotected piv

Word Count: 944

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist

The hint of stale cigarettes lingers on your tongue. Outside, you hear the lull of traffic, of people, of horns, of noise. It drills into your skull, leaving behind a throbbing sensation that might have been there upon waking. Thin rays of morning sunshine peek through the shut blinds, providing just enough light to see by.

Rubbing at your eyes, you stretch, the soft sheets twisting around your body further. A silent yawn follows, the joints in your knees and shoulders popping, muscles gently resisting. Within all of that is soreness, not only in your limbs but…between your legs. Shifting, the tenderness spikes, and you wince slightly.

Last night starts to come back in fragments—pieces.

A smokey bar. Music. A man kissing your neck as the two of you swayed to the beat.

For a moment, you smile, and then reality comes crashing down like a boulder. There was a bar, music, and plenty of liquor, but you went home with someone.

Slowly, you turn your neck, finding that someone.

Alejandro.

That’s his name. The one he gave you, the one you moaned while he was balls deep and licking stray droplets of tequila off your nipples.

He’s asleep and on his stomach, one large, muscled arm bent under the pillow to support his head. The bedsheet pools at his hips, revealing his bare back and portions of his legs.

More memories follow.

You straddling his lap, lips connecting, grinding on his thigh as he told you how pretty you looked. There was tequila—a river of it. A walk back to his place. There was no pause. No space for breath. When he had slammed the door shut, you were already reaching for him, the two of you shedding clothes quickly, fucking on the floor before eventually making it to the bed.

The soreness between your legs makes itself known again. As you adjust, a sticky residue rubs at your inner thighs. Reaching under the sheet, you examine the area, only for your fingers to come back with a substance you know all too well.

Alejandro groans, and then the bed beneath you dips slightly as he rolls onto his side, stretching. Those dark eyes open, and immediately find you.

“Good morning,” he purrs, a husky quality to his voice.

Your pussy immediately clenches in anticipation. The two of you might have fucked like animals trying to reproduce last night, but what’s a morning of doing the same? Even though it’s returning in fragments, you did enjoy yourself.

“Morning,” you reply softly.

“You moved away in your sleep,” he says, and it sounds like a complaint.

You open your mouth to reply but Alejandro is already reaching out for you, using that brute strength to roll you onto your side and pull you against him. His warmth instantly greets you, wrapping you up, muscles relaxing into that comfort.

He sighs, nuzzling your neck. Lips brush just behind the shell of your ear, making you shiver. One large hand slides to your front, lowering until it almost grasps your sex. His other arm curves just under your neck, that hand lightly resting at your throat.

Like this, your body responds, wanting closeness. And it’s clear that his body wants you too. His dick rests against the curve of your ass, all hardness.

Alejandro’s mouth shifts, his lips pressing kisses to the exposed portions of your neck between his fingers. “Let me in,” he murmurs. “Warm me up.”

His hand against your pelvis shifts to your thigh, and you lift in invitation. Hooking your foot at his calf, you create enough of an opening for Alejandro to shift his hips. The head of his cock drags over your skin and then settles at your entrance. Alejandro’s breath is warm against your skin.

He gently rocks forward. Though the tenderness flares slightly, your pussy eagerly accepts him, adjusting like it’s remembering the memory of him inside you. The moan you let out is more a whimper as he sheaths himself entirely.

Alejandro holds there, not thrusting, not moving, only kissing your neck and shoulder. His fingers gently clasp your chin, shifting your face enough that he can find your lips. You melt under that connection, accepting it like a refreshing glass of cold water.

As your hips press back involuntarily, Alejandro squeezes your thigh, keeping you still as he holds himself inside you.

“Not yet, mi vida,” he croons.

The hand upon your thigh relaxes, shifting lower until he finds his prize. You gasp against his mouth, pussy clenching around his cock as Alejandro’s index finger circles your clit.

He hums with contentment. “That’s what I want.”

A few more strokes and your thighs quiver.

“Almost,” he whispers.

The slick sound of his fingers sliding over and around your clit overshadow everything else. An orgasm builds—sharp and ready to strike. It doesn’t take much until your breath hitches and your cunt clamps down on him.

Alejandro begins to move, hips rocking back and forth in a steady motion. But he never ceases touching you—never stops teasing your clit with his fingers. Every moan and gasp you give him is greedily consumed, his tongue delving into your mouth for a taste.

It is intimate. Passionate. And you hardly notice when his pace increases.

Not until he gently shifts you onto your stomach, his cock never slipping out once as he adjusts.

The pillow is cool against your cheek.

Your arms are pinned above your head by the wrists.

Alejandro pumps savagely, murmuring in Spanish like he’s sending a prayer to the heavens.

You lift your hips, spread your legs a little wider, and smile.

taglist:

@glitterypirateduck @km-ffluv @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

@beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx @chaostwinsofdestruction @weasleytwins-41

@saoirse06 @unhinged-reader-36 @ravenpoe67 @sageyxbabey @mudisgranapat

@lulurubberduckie @leed-bbg @yawning-grave81 @azkza @nishim

@voids-universe @iloveslasher @talooolaaloolla @sadlonelybagel @haven-1307

@itsberrydreemurstuff @cod-z @keiva1000 @littlemisscriesherselftosleep @blackhawkfanatic

@sammysinger04 @kylies-love-letter @dakotakazansky @suhmie @kadeeesworld

@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[lazybutsmexy]

Simon you big dummy I feared the worst-

Her hand subconsciously feels to the left side of the bed, reaching out for his hip, but when her hand feels cold sheets, she sits up, eyes bleary with sleep as she looks around. He’s gone, his clothes gone from the floor, and for a moment, she feels a blistering sting in her chest when she looks at her dead husband’s photo sitting on her bedside table. What a fool, she thinks as she throws her legs over the side of the bed and grabs the robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door. Slipping it on, she walks into her daughter’s room and leans over the crib, ready to pick her up when her eyes widen as she stares at an empty bed. Panic floods her and she tries to calm down, thinks that JJ maybe got his sister out and put her in his bed.

She hurries to his room and opens the door, eyes bulging out of her head at this point. His Spider-Man bed is empty. Her feet carry her downstairs and in a flurry of worry, she runs around, checking the den, the dining room, the kitchen, the shed outside, there’s no sign of him or her children. Tears flood her vision as she grabs her phone inside on the bar and tries to fumble it open, only for the front door to crack open and someone start to yell, “Mummy!” Before a stern voice hushes them.

She runs to the front door and sees Simon cradling Morrigan in one arm, his other on the back of JJ’s shoulders, pushing him in the door with a quiet but firm, “Don’ wake y’er mum up.”

Her phone falls to the floor, and she runs to her children, yanking the baby from him, jostling her into a crying fit, as she wraps the other hand around JJ’s head and pulls them in for a tight grip.

“Mummy?” JJ asks, concern flooding his voice as Morrigan cries harder. “What’s wrong, mummy? Why are you crying?”

“Mummy’s not crying,” she says and shushes Morrigan until the baby is in hiccups and hands her to him. “Take Morrigan upstairs to her crib. I need to have a word with Simon.”

JJ takes the hiccuping child from her and he can’t help but say, “Mummy, Simon took us for ice cream!” She finally notices the brown stain on JJ’s pristine white shirt and the remains of chocolate around his mouth. “But Morrigan didn’t eat any. Uncle Simon gave her a bottle.”

“That’s good, baby,” she responds with a tight smile. “Take Morrigan upstairs, okay? She needs a nap.”

“Yes, mummy.”

He leaves and she stands, whirling on him, and he can tell he just lit a Roman candle the size of a mortar. “Love,” he starts, and she cuts him off with a swift and crisp slap that sends his face snapping to the side.

“You cannot just take my children without telling me!” She all but yells. “Letting you in my home is one thing but my children! Don’t you ever take my children out without waking me ever again!”

“Love,” he calms, not bothering to massage the stinging in his face. “I ‘ad everythin’ under control.”

She feels the storm brew in her throat, the tears in her eyes. “My children. My babies. His—our children.”

Simon reaches up, takes her face in his hands. “Look at me,” he says. “You were asleep. Peacefully. You were tired. You ‘ave been so tired. So exhausted from everything. I didn’ want to wake you.” He looks at her. “I took them out for some ice-cream so you could ‘ave a restful sleep with no one to bother you.”

Tears spill over and she manages to muster, “No one is going to hurt my children.”

He stares at her, copper eyes boring in hers as he promises, “Love, I would never hurt your children. I would never let anyone hurt your children.” He holds her firm in his hands, eyes ever-strong. “I would never let anyone hurt them. Or you.”

“They’re all I have left,” she cries. “My babies.”

“I know,” he says softly, brushing a hand over her cheek. “And I would die a thousand times before I ever let anyone hurt them.” He leans down and presses his forehead to hers. “Love, I would never hurt them.”

She feels the tears drip down her face as the pain in her chest begins to subside. “I woke up and you were gone. They were gone. I…I feared the worst. That he’d gotten them. That they’d taken you all.”

“No one is going to take us,” he murmurs, shutting his eyes. “I swear to you. No one is going to take us.”

Her hands clench in his hoodie. “You were gone.”

“I know,” he says. “I’m sorry, I shoulda left a note. I jus’ didn’ think you’d wake up ‘fore we got back.” He pulls away and cups her cheek again. “Love, you’ve been so tired. I jus’ wanted you to rest.”

“I know,” she agrees, even as he wipes her tears with his thumbs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I slapped you, I’m so sorry,” she cries again.

He snorts and kisses her cheek. “Soap teach you to ‘it that ‘ard?” A surprised laugh bubbles out of her, and she can’t help but smile as the tears fall. “There’s tha’ smile,” he cooes and kisses her forehead. “God, I love tha’ smile.”

Her cheeks get hot and she reaches up, wiping her face. “I’m sorry.”

“Nah, love,” he shakes off. “Don’t be. I’d react the same if I were you.” He takes her hand and kisses it. “Go check on them, yeah? I’ll make you something to eat.”

She nods and turns, pausing at the staircase and looks at him. “I thought you left me this morning,” her voice is soft, just short of broken.

He looks back at her, takes off the face mask he always wears in public and affirms, “Never.”

[lazybutsmexy]

Hello??? This is such a great Usopp bday present omg. Jacob is literally the perfect Usopp. Give this man a raise.

my Usopp tiktok star theory is alive & thriving!!

[lazybutsmexy]

what if we had Viking Soap ..?

[lazybutsmexy]

if this is something you’re interested in, I’d love to see Simon accidentally losing his temper and making it up to you <333 he’s just a big guy and doesn’t really realise how intimidating he can appear! he’s the sweetest though :(

Taking some artistic liberties with this because I refuse to give men the right to yell as the president/princess of this here blog!!

All day you've felt the distance between you and Simon. A gaping, empty hole in your normally cozy, quiet home. Of course, you'll give him the patience he always affords you, you'll give him time and space if that's what he wants. But you can't exactly work out what he needs when he'll barely speak to you.

His silence doesn't soothe the anxiety in your gut telling you that you're the source of the problem.

Eventually, you find yourself breaking, sitting on the couch responding to an email, going through the motions with robotic thoughtlessness. You're so strung out by your own anxiety, yiu find yourself crying, little pathetic sniffles as you try to convince yourself to grow up and push your feelings aside.

"Bird?" Snaps you from your self pity. Sends your hands flying up to wipe at your eyes. Fruitless, seeing as he's already noticed your tears, a concerned look furrowing his brows. Before you can protest, tell him you're fine, he's kneeling before you on the rug, still at your eye level, despite the fact you're sat on the couch.

All coldness is gone as he takes in your ruddy cheeks and watering eyes, pulling you into his chest the minute he realises why you're crying, why you're hiding from him.

"Are you mad at me?" You hiccup, wiping your runny nose absently on the back of your sleeve as you wait for an answer, only to see Simon look so utterly broken at your question.

"Wha-Why would I be angry at you, hm?" He soothes, thumbs brushing gently across your tear streaked cheeks. "Haven't done anything wrong." Simon murmurs into the hair at the crown of your head, a large hand rubbing soothing circles into your back.

You feel like an idiot, so worked up by your own thoughts, your imagination. "Barely talked to me all day."

"Oh baby." You're soothed with such gentleness you can't help but to cry more, sniffling fat tears into the fabric of Simon's shirt.

Jostling slightly, Simon keeps you pressed into his chest as he joins you up on the couch, his free hand cradling the nape of your neck, keeping you close.

"M'sorry, baby. Let me make it up to you, yeah?"

[lazybutsmexy]

Cirice

[lazybutsmexy]

Infused Masterlist

Alejandro Vargas x f!Reader (callsign Avispa)

Mate is a traditional South-American, caffeine-rich, infused herbal drink. Argentinian costumes dictate that, depending on the additives or the way in which it’s served, one can send secret messages using mate.

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence, dr!g use, minor character death.

Prologue: Heat the water to 90°C

Chapter 1: Mate with tea: Disgust

Chapter 2: Mate amargo: Indiference

Chapter 3: soon

Taglist

Ko-fi

[lazybutsmexy]

Infused

Alejandro Vargas x f!reader (Avispa)

Masterlist Prologue Ch.1

Chapter 2: Mate amargo: Indiference

Warnings: none

A/N: another update so soon?! Don't get used to that.

Sargento Mayor Rodolfo Parra watched pensively at Alejandro as he recounted his meeting with Avispa. The Colonel was incensed, gesturing wildly with his hands as he paced around the barrack they shared when they had no time to go home and rest.

Alejandro had very strong opinions about the woman, although he kept himself from calling her vile names. Even in his fury, he had his limits. Besides, his catholic mother would never forgive him for talking ill of a woman, no matter how frustrating she was.

Rodolfo noted that and kept it at the back of his head, while he listened to his childhood friend turned superior vent about Avispa. He kept quiet for most of the interaction, besides humming and assenting to show Alejandro he was paying attention as he unfastened his boots.

Alejandro had a lot to say, even after they were both laying down on their cots, looking at the ceiling. Whenever Rodolfo thought he was done, Alejandro would break the silence with another remark.

“As if I'd let a fucking killer for hire use the Fuerzas Especiales as a crutch to complete her assassination job,” Alejandro grumbled mostly to himself, but loud enough for Rodolfo to hear.

“So, you wouldn't even consider it?” Rodolfo sighed, the only sentence he uttered since they entered the barrack.

Alejandro sat up on his cot, glaring at his friend in disbelief, “would you, pendejo?!”

Rodolfo simply snorted a laugh, having expected that reaction from him. “It wouldn't be the first time we've worked with PMC’s or contractors from other countries. It's kind of part of the job, Ale.” He stretched over his cot, groaning softly as he relaxed. “You mentioned she had a Southern Latin American accent, didn’t you? She’s probably a part of that group…” He trailed off, remembering an old report on the Amazonas.

“It's not the same thing, those collaborations were approved by legal organizations, like the CIA,” Alejandro sighed, rolling his eyes, “she's not. What if she makes shit hit the fan, eh? Who could we report that to?”

“I hear you on that, hermano,” Rodolfo sighed, turning to his side to look at Alejandro sleepily, “on the fact that no legal responsibility will tie her or restrain her actions. However, since she’s trying to collaborate with us, it means she also won't have anyone come help her if shit hits the fan. If she fucks up, we could just drop her to the wolves, pretend we never worked together, and fix it.”

Alejandro stared at his friend, his frown softening just a fraction as his words echoed in his head. He watched Rudy yawn and fix a blanket over himself, and laid himself back down. He stared at the ceiling in silence, reflecting on his options.

Rodolfo was right. Los Vaqueros were the only insurance that Avispa would even survive squaring up to el Sin Nombre, and they could deny her support if he so wanted it. He spent another half an hour weighing on the pros and cons of allowing her in their circle, and the thought of having the choice of backing out made him think more about the positive outcome it could bring.

“... Maybe.” He spoke in the quietness, Rodolfo’s soft snores the only reply he got.

Bar Marcela was once again the chosen venue for the meeting, but this time Alejandro got there first. He had sent Ricardo a coded message to set up another meeting with Avispa, and now he only had to wait. He nibbled on his nachos without hurry, making sure he tasted them thoroughly to compensate for the last time. He could practically feel Marcela’s eyes on him, even though she was in the backroom at the moment.

Avispa met his eyes the moment she walked in, and her quiet steps led her straight to his table. She sat down wearing a knowing smile on her face, and it ticked Alejandro to see it.

“I knew you would reconsider it, Coronel,” was her greeting, helping herself to one of his nachos. She ate it and hummed at the taste, while Alejandro’s glare was fixed on her. “What are your conditions?”

“You turn in every information you gather to us, no matter how small it may be, before you act out on it,” he began, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ll facilitate a quarter at my base so you can lay down and lick your wounds if needed, but I won’t insure your safety out of it.”

Avispa watched him thoughtfully. Of course, she always knew she wouldn’t depend on him or the Special Forces to keep her safe from the cartel. There was no way in hell a legal, government-backed military would publicly endorse her.

However, she was a big girl, and this wasn’t su primer jineteada. She was confident she could take care of herself.

“Muy bien,” Avispa agreed with a small grin, offering him her hand to shake it off.

Alejandro didn’t take it. Instead, he stood from his seat, staring down at her as he handed her a scribbled piece of paper. “Go to this address tomorrow, be ready to move into my base.”

He wasn’t particularly happy to take her in, and his face showed it. Despite this, he had preemptively chosen a private room in a corner of the barracks. Long ago, it was used by drill sergeants to watch over the recruits. But after the transformation into the base of operations of the Special Forces, it had been modified to house soldiers with disciplinary issues, and hidden cameras had been installed. It would be perfect to keep an eye on her movements in and out of the barracks. Of course, that information wouldn't be passed down to her.

At 0900 hours sharp, Avispa walked into the Vaqueros’ base of operations. Her eyes darted around as a guard led her to the women's barracks, partially to create a mental map of the installations, but also to admire the sheer size of them.

She could spot a few soldiers looking at her through the windows and she wondered how many others were not in her line of sight. She knew it was a tactical decision, to make her know she would be constantly under surveillance. That thought followed her as she entered her private quarters.

Her eyes studied her provisional accommodation, moreso trying to locate hidden cameras than checking out the bland bedding and the too-small window that looked out into the internal patio. Resigned to not being able to pinpoint the surveillance, she put down her duffel bag on the bed and opened it, pulling out a change of clothes and a smaller backpack.

As she's about to take her t-shirt off, she looked over her back, raising an eyebrow at the guard whose eyes were still fixed on her. “...May a señorita have some privacy?” She questioned, her voice almost sickly sweet.

The guard stared at her for just a moment longer before stepping back, although Avispa predicted he would only be one or two feet away from the door. She rolled her eyes, changing into a pair of jeans and a breezy top.

It was only moments later that Alejandro walked in, knocking twice on the door frame to announce himself. “How's your suite, princesa?” He greeted her in a teasing tone.

“Like a dream, Coronel,” Avispa matched his tone, flipping down on the cot and taking her tablet, scrolling through it, “good job hiding the cameras, I couldn't find them.”

Alejandro snorted, a sneer stretching his lips. Of course she would be smarter than to assume he wouldn't have an eye on her at all times. “Breakfast is at 0630, lunch is at 1400, dinner at 2100.”

She nodded at the information, glancing at her watch before sitting up and tilting her head a little. “I suppose I can get hot water at the kitchen any time of the day, right?”

Alejandro blinked at her and nodded slowly, slightly intrigued at her reason to require it. “Fancy a coffee, then?”

Avispa grinned and shook her head, swinging her legs over the edge of her bed and sliding her chanclas on, before pulling out a thermos from her duffel bag. “No, mate.”

The bitter taste of the yerba was thoroughly enjoyed as she slipped on the metallic straw. It had been a few days since she had been able to lower her guard enough to give herself time to enjoy a good mate. The beverage woke her up more effectively than a cup of coffee, and she took her sweet time browsing through her tablet as she drank it.

She scribbled down some words on a notepad, and later laid down on the cot, staring at the ceiling. That's all they could see in the footage. They saw no signs of her trying to install boobytraps, or hiding weapons, or anything else. Just a woman by herself, watching the time pass.

It all changed about an hour before dinner, when she took her backpack and slung it over her shoulder. She followed her mental map of the base expertly, tracing her steps back to the entrance and walking out, not a word heard from her lips to the guards who questioned her where she was going, or when she would return.

A/N: the worst crime commited by the COD fandom was to forget how unhinged Rudy can be.

Taglist

@warenai @queen-of-hearts-lemon-tarts @embers-of-alluring @wolfyland07

[lazybutsmexy]

Thinking of Ghost carting around a tiny notebook, it’s basically a keychain that hangs from his belt loop. The kicker? It’s cute. Like, uncharacteristically so, for a man like Ghost that is.

It’s fucking pink. With goddamn glitter and a cat on it. With a small, pink pen to match!

Everyone who’s seen the keychain all think they’re having a damn stroke seeing the stupid thing for the first time. It’s so small, like if was meant for a kid, so what the hell is a Lieutenant doing with a fucking keychain notebook?

The purpose is debated to this day. To keep track of all he kills in the field? Marking losses? Reminders for the future? Fucking journaling his feelings?? No one even know if Ghost ever uses it, but are well aware that the man is strangely protective of his notebook, like some sort of rabid dog. snapping at anyone who tries to take it, and god forbid someone touches it. At least they know he’s aware of the pink notebook.

But the real reason Ghost even has it? Why would he even carry such a dainty, childish thing like that? How could he even manage to write so small with such large, almost clumsy fingers?

It’s where he writes his jokes.

It’s his fucking personal joke book.

[lazybutsmexy]

Infused

Alejandro Vargas x f!reader (Avispa)

Masterlist Prologue

Chapter 1: Mate with tea: Disgust

Warnings: alcohol consumption

“Coronel, Ricardo is here.” 

Alejandro looked up from his files to see Rodriguez standing by the door to his office. Both men looked equally puzzled at each other, since it was uncommon for his informant to come directly into the base. It couldn’t mean anything good. 

“Send him in,” he ordered, and Rodriguez nodded and walked out. Alejandro rubbed his temple with his index finger, his concern growing the more he tried to think. When Ricardo walked in, Alejandro looked at him with a frown. “Was your cover blown?”

“Uh, no, at least I don’t think so, Coronel,” Ricardo was quick to answer, his expression just as confused as his superior, “but someone found me, and has a message for you. She knows I work for you, and wants to collaborate… I think.”

That made Alejandro’s eyebrows shoot up, “we don’t take any outside informants, it’s too risky for them.” 

“I told her that, but she said you need her more than you think,” Ricardo sat down with a low grunt, resting his head on his hand. The man was visibly tired, a shell of the man he used to be just a year ago. Also, his wedding ring was missing. Undercover work wasn’t easy for anyone or their families, and Alejandro respected his sacrifice like few would. 

Alejandro frowned a little, thinking about this strange woman’s proposition. Another informant wouldn’t really hurt them, but the risk was too great, and even more for women. Las Almas cartel was known for their violence, and they took no consessions - no matter their age or gender, a person was just a body to use until it broke.

Still, Alejandro was partially curious about whoever was this woman who was willing to put her life on the line for the cause. she could be the family member of a member of the cartel, desperate to get them out. Perhaps, with the right incentive, he may be able to talk her out of it. 

“...Alright,” he finally said after thinking in silence for a few minutes, “set up a meeting at the Marcela bar, I’ll listen to her at least.”

“Bien, Coronel,” Ricardo stood up, sighing softly. Before he walked out, he stopped, and slowly turned around to face his superior again. “One more thing,” he added, his voice showing enough hesitancy to catch Alejandro’s attention, “I may be seeing things, but this is no ordinary woman… I think she’s military.”

Bar Marcela was a cozy little hole-in-the wall, but its cute appeal was deceiving. Owned and served by Marcela Romero Marín, the bar was akin to a pirate ship, ran by a captain as vicious as the big names in the business. Marcela was one of the few who hadn’t given in to the cartel’s threats, and stayed loyal to the people of Las Almas. She had more than once fostered orphans victims of the war on drugs, and put more than a dozen lost teenagers back on track before they even joined the cartel out of desperation. 

Bar Marcela was a safe place - or as safe as could be - for Alejandro’s meeting with the mystery woman who wished to be an informant. He had given Marcela a heads-up about the meeting, and by the time he arrived, her dark eyes met him immediately. The moment he approached the bar, she leaned in, her voice sweet and welcoming. 

“Coronel, it’s always a pleasure to see you by,” Marcela smiled and offered him her hand, her gold tooth glinting in the neon lights. The wrinkles in her cheek were the only clue to her real age, which she adamantly denied to reveal. 

“Marcela,” Alejandro greeted her, taking her offered hand and kissing the back of it. A proper señora of Las Almas shouldn’t be greeted in any lesser form. “Get me a beer and some nachos, please.”

“Sure thing, amor,” she winked, turning around and flagging one of her employees to get the food ready. She opened a beer, handing it to him with two glasses. When Alejandro looked at the second glass, she nodded in the direction of a table tucked in at the corner, where a lone woman with curly hair sat. “Your mystery woman is over there, may appreciate a cold beer.” 

Alejandro thanks her with a smile, taking the beer and glasses and walking across the bar to the table. The moment he laid eyes on her, he was studying her. She was sitting with her back to the corner, giving her ample view of her surroundings. their eyes met, and he could see the recognition. 

He sat down, pouring both glasses, letting her choose one. When she did, he took the other one and took a long swig. “I’m Coronel Alejandro Vargas. I’ve been told you want to work as an informant for the Special Forces,” he began, looking into her eyes as he spoke, “are you sure you know what it entails?” His voice was soft, but carried a no-nonsense tone. He wanted to make sure such an offering entailed a serious conversation. 

“I’m sure,” she spoke, matching his tone and taking a slow sip of the cold beer. “I have ways of getting whatever information you want, and particular reasons to help you.” 

Alejandro’s brow tensed, and he let out a soft sigh, shaking his head. “Look, preciosa, being an informant, especially as a woman, carries a special kind of danger, entiendes?”

Avispa would swoon at Alejandro’s concern over her well-being, but she was a big girl. 

Alejandro continued with his speech, his tone growing in desperate concern as he realized the woman in front of him wasn’t backing down, her expression as decided as the beginning. “What is that particular reason you want to be an informant for us, anyway?” He sighed, pouring himself another glass. 

Avispa smirked a little, and decided to show him her cards. “Because I want to kill el Sin Nombre, Coronel.” She took a slow sip of her beer, watching his reaction. 

Alejandro stopped mid-sip, staring at her. The wheels started turning in his head, his eyes darkening at her words. He leaned in, his voice lost its concerned hue and turned low and warning. “El Sin Nombre is to be brought to justice, not assassinated.”

“What justice, Coronel?” Avispa leaned in as well, her eyes glinting in the shadow of her fringe. “You know better than me how corrupt the justice system is in Las Almas, and I don’t need to tell you how someone like el Sin Nombre doesn’t deserve to exist.”

“Even if that’s true, I won’t let you play vigilante in Las Almas,” he said, “I won’t let a stranger like you taint the Special Forces and all the good work we’ve done.”

Avispa began to understand how important it was to Alejandro and those under his command to be the ones ending the cartel’s operations. He was a local, he had witnessed first-hand how his hometown fell to drugs and violence. His determination to clean the bad weed from the root awoke respect for him. 

“I don’t pretend to become a local hero, Vargas,” Avispa sighed, taking a sip of her beer, “from the beginning, I was planning on using my tactical skills to help you, and making it look like it was done by the Special Forces,” she explained, shrugging a little, “I only need a photograph of Sin Nombre dead, and I’ll be out of your hair.”

That comment caught Alejandro’s attention, and he practically growled, his fingers gripping the glass so hard it was a miracle it didn’t break. He remembered Ricardo’s words - “I think she’s military” - and put it together with her desire to kill el Sin Nombre. “You’re a contractor,” he stated, “you were hired to kill him.”

“I can offer you assistance in ways you can’t get it legally,” Avispa retorted, narrowing her eyes, “I know you need that, we both know you need that. There’s only so many things Los Vaqueros can do to get under el Sin Nombre’s skin.”

Alejandro said nothing, just put some bills on the table and stood up. “I’m done with this conversation,” his statement was final, but he pointed a finger at her to drive it home. “Don’t get in my way. I won’t hesitate to get rid of you, or anyone who interferes with my job.”

Avispa watched him with a serious expression, and as he turned away from him, she called out. “Time is running out, Coronel, and I can help.”

The door of the bar shut loudly behind him, and Avispa stayed to finish her beer. It was a good enough beer. 

Taglist

@warenai @queen-of-hearts-lemon-tarts @embers-of-alluring @wolfyland07

[lazybutsmexy]

Sexual Harassment Training

Captain Price has a permanent scowl on his face today, it seems. You see him stomping around like a toddler on a rampage at lunch.

"What's got the Captain all bollocksed up? Did I say that, right?" Soap grins, then grimaces as he thinks about it. Standing together, you dump your trays before Soap leads you to the team meeting.

"Ya, doll, that's how you say it. He's like this every year. Mandatory sexual harassment training for everyone this afternoon." You ponder it for a minute.

"Why? Like, it's just something to sit through, right? It isn't like anyone is harassing our team."

He chuckles quietly and answers, "they aren't worried about the likes of me getting harassed, but that we will harass you, Princess." You elbow him and sit next to Ghost, who has saved you as seat per usual.

"Hey Luv, ready to be bored and insulted for a few hours?"

"Are these really that bad, Bruv?"

"They are, Crumpet. They really are."

"Hey! You need to address your coworkers with respect! Nicknames have no place in this organization, Mr..."

"Riley, Lieutenant Riley." Ghost stiffens up in his seat, restrained irritation pouring off of him. The woman from human resources turns toward you.

"Ma'am I have the form here to file a complaint when you feel up to it. No rush."

"Uhh... a complaint?" You stare at her in complete confusion as she brandishes a form at your face.

"Yes, no one should be treated with such disrespect. Talking down to coworkers is frowned upon." Her voice is condescendingly sweet, grating on your last nerve already. You stare at her for a moment before nodding, and Ghost tries to catch your eye, looking shocked.

"Pet... I mean, Sergeant. Do my nicknames make you feel uncomfortable? I will stop if they do. You never said anything, or I wouldn't have..."

"Hmm...? Oh no, but I will be filing a complaint." Turning toward the smirking woman, you ask, "what was your name again? Brenda McMasters? Perfect." You quickly fill out the paperwork before handing it over. She skims it with a smile, then freezes in place as she reads it more closely, her smile falling. She looks up at you, then back at the paper, reading it again and again as the words sink in.

"You- you can't file a complaint on me! I'm the one teaching you about sexual harassment! I'm here to make sure these brutes don't attack you!"

You shrug before responding, "I feel singled out by you due to my gender and your policing of the camaraderie between myself and my teammates. It is making me feel very uncomfortable, Ma'am." Her jaw is hanging open in complete shock.

You stand and turn to the Captain, watching you with a grin on his face at the front of the room. "I don't know if I feel comfortable being taught by someone who is sexist and clearly violating policy, Captain Price. May we request a different lecturer? I know it will mean rescheduling, but I don't think we should be learning about harassment from someone who has a complaint on file."

Captain Price has to smother his grin and bite back laughter at your innocent expression when Brenda turns toward him. "You are right, Sergeant. Ma'am, I will take that complaint and file it. It wouldn't be proper for you to file one on yourself, or it might go missing in transit." He gleefully plucks the paper from her hands and walks out. She follows, looking ill. You can hear her trying to get the Captain to stop and discuss the matter..

You lean on the table with a pleased look. "So, free afternoon, now. Any plans?" The team just stares at you, still processing what happened. You see Ghost staring down at the table and tap his hand. "You alright, Tiger?" He looks up, visibly distressed.

"The nicknames, do they bother you, Sergeant?" He needs to know now. The last thing anyone here wants is to disrespect you.

"Course not. Makes my day. The only things better are cuddling after a long day while we watch movies in the rec room or killing fucks on the field together. HR doesn't know what the fuck they're talking about, Bruv." Turning back to the rest of the team with a grin you say, "How about we sun up on Captain's grass? He won't be back for a bit anyway."

"You're playing with fire, Lamb. We're in."