#Narco Terror

[brexiiton]

Ecuador 'in state of war' against drug cartels' terror campaign

Schools and stores are shuttered, people are staying home as soldiers roam the streets of Ecuador's biggest cities.

Members of Ecuador's armed forces patrol a street during a security operation in the capital, Quito. [AFP]

With city streets largely deserted apart from a massive military deployment, Ecuador found itself in a "state of war" as drug cartels waged a brutal campaign of kidnappings and attacks in response to a government crackdown.

Hundreds of soldiers patrolled the capital, Quito, where residents were gripped by fear over a surge in violence that has also prompted alarm abroad.

The small South American country has been plunged into crisis after years of increasing control by transnational cartels that use its ports to ship cocaine to the United States and Europe.

The latest outburst of violence was sparked by the discovery on sunday of the prison escape of one of the country's most powerful narco bosses, Jose Adolfo Macias, known by the alias "Fito".

On Monday, President Daniel Noboa imposed a state of emergency and nighttime curfew, but the gangs hit back with declaration of "war" - threatening to execute civilians and security forces.

They also instigated numerous prison riots, set off explosions in public places and waged attacks in which at least 14 people have been killed.

More than 100 prison guards and administrative staff have been taken hostage, the prisons authority said.

In the port city of Guayaquil, attackers wearing balaclavas stormed a state-owned TV station on Tuesday, briefly taking several journalists and staff members hostage and firing shots in dramatic scenes broadcast live before police arrived.

Local media reported some of the attackers were as young as 16.

This attack, in particular, spread panic among the general population, many of whom left work and closed shops to return to the safety of their homes.

"Today we are not safe, anything can happen," said Luis Chiligano, a 53-year-old security guard in Quito who explained he was opting to hide rather than confront "the criminals, who are better armed".

Noboa said on Wednesday that the country was now in a "state of war," as he promised not to yield to the gangs.

Ecuador's President Daniel Noboa gave orders on Tuesday to 'neutralise' the criminal gangs after gunmen stormed and opened fire in a TV studio, as bandits threatened random executions. [AFP]

Gangs declared war on the government after Noboa announced a state of emergency following the prison escape pm January 7 of one of Ecuador's most powerful narco bosses. [AFP]

United Nations Secretary-General Antonio Guterres was 'very much alarmed by the deteriorating situation in the country as well as its disruptive impact on the lives of Ecuadorans,' according to his spokesperson Stephane Dujarric. [AFP]

Peru declared a state of emergency on its border with Ecuador, sending an additional 500 police and soldiers to secure the frontier. [AFP]

China's embassy and consulates in Ecuador suspended services to the public, while France and Russia advised citizens against travel to the country. [AFP]

Brian Nichols, the top US diplomat for Latin America, said Washington was 'extremely concerned,' pledging to provide assistance and 'remain in close contact' with Noboa's team [AFP]

Colombia's army also announced it was bolstering border security. [AFP]

Ecuador's murder rate quadrupled from 2018 to 2022 and last year was the worst yet, with 7,800 murders in a population of about 17 million, and a record 220 tonnes of drugs seized. [AFP]

[theorganasolo]

oh gosh this was painful but thankfully just dream! I'm glad javi had his family to comfort him

thank you for writing and sharing with us!

Terror

A/N: By popular demand! This turned awful in my brain very quickly. I know instantly that this won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, so please read the tags before jumping into this. Not everything is fun and games for hubby. 

Summary: Javier doesn’t think that he has nightmares about Colombia anymore until he suddenly does. The difference is that he also has you and the family that you have given him.

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18, graphic description of gun violence, some gore, PTSD night terrors, major character death (but not really), panic attacks, domestic, cuddles, hurt/comfort, family time, love confessions, pregnant reader dies in this dream

Word count: 2.6k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54592621

Terror

Javier searches and searches to no avail. He walks with frantic determination between burning cars and bullet shells, occasionally hitting the latter with the tips of his shoes so they go cascading down the asphalt with a clinking sound. He doesn’t trip on them though, as his steps are sure, moving around the chaotic scene of the aftermath of an ambush by grabbing at whatever he can to push himself forward. 

He knows where he is but he doesn’t remember getting here, and he has no clue if he was involved in the shooting that has evidently occurred here. However, when he looks down at himself, he finds no bullet wounds and no tactical gear either. So why does he think that you are here? He yelps as he accidentally grabs the hood of a car that seems to have been burning for a while, the metal so hot that it scorches his skin. The heat radiating from the vehicle makes his body prickle with sweat, his shirt clinging uncomfortably to his skin that is riddled with damp sweat from anxiety. He clutches his burnt hand and continues down the never-ending street. 

Where are you? Where are they? He searches through several empty cars, nearly ripping the doors off of their hinges to get to you quicker. Perhaps you know where they are but he doesn’t even know where you are. 

When he gets to what feels like the hundredth car, finally reaching the end of the road that somehow resembles a labyrinth despite only moving forward, panic has started to rise in his throat. He calls for you but you don’t answer, and then he calls for Lucas in case he has managed to hide himself and his sibling somewhere. 

“Lucas! It’s alright, it’s just me!” He yells out but it’s just the echo of his own voice that answers him, “You can come out now, it’s over, te prome— (I promi—).”

Javier has turned the corner. It is the sight of Horatio Carrillo’s face that makes him realize that this isn’t real. Carrillo is dead, and he has been for nearly twenty years. Javier will never forgive himself for not having been there. He should have been there with everyone. It should have been him; he had had nothing waiting for him back in Laredo. 

In front of him, a row of children and teenagers are kneeling but he doesn’t recognize any of their faces. He has seen this scene before. He remembers doing nothing back then, and the thought is enough to make his gut twist with guilt and nausea even if nothing could have been done to change Carrillo’s attitude towards the kids. He hears a gunshot and a young child falls to the ground, head split open from the way the bullet has torn through soft, young flesh. He flinches in a way that he didn’t back then, in a way that only a man who is a father can. 

Carrillo’s blank and indifferent stare terrifies him to the point where he wishes that he could wake up. It is clear that this is a nightmare, so why hasn’t he woken up yet? Aren’t you supposed to wake up when you have figured it all out? He tries pinching his arm but nothing happens, and the claustrophobia of being stuck in his own head makes his chest constrict and his heart, too big for his rib cage by now, hammer with the speed of a hummingbird’s wings. 

The stare he is watching is not one of being rid of emotion but rather the look that washes over a face when the person it belongs to is dead. His old colleague is standing in front of him in a zombie-like state and Javier cannot shake the feeling that Carrillo looks less like a person and more like a thing. 

“Carrillo,” he says sternly. On the ground, the blood oozes towards his feet and he shifts to avoid it soaking through his shoes. 

His colleague turns to him but doesn’t say anything. He still has the weapon in his hand, arm stretched out, and pointing the gun at the row of innocent children. Javier speaks quietly despite his anxiety, “C’mon, they’re just kids. Look at them; they’re just ki—“

He turns to look at the kneeling figures but the faces aren’t unknown to him anymore. His blood runs cold at the sight of his eldest son who has his arms stretched out to hold Inés close to his body, effectively shielding her from any shot that may be coming at her at any moment. 

“Lucas,” he croaks, “¿Dónde está tu madre (Where is your mother)?”

“I don’t know, Dad,” his son replies, “I’m scared.” 

“I know, don’t worry, I— I’m gonna take care of it,” he replies with a dizzying heartbeat followed by the urge to throw up. 

It’s then that you appear too. His heart skips a beat as you materialize right behind your kids, pregnant with his child and vulnerable as tears stream down your cheeks. Your arms are in front of you, wrapped around your children as you try to protect them while whimpering in a way that makes Javier more than desperate. He tries to sound more assertive than anxious but listening to his own voice, he doesn’t feel very successful. He turns back to Carrillo who hasn’t moved the firearm even an inch, “For fuck’s sake, get that gun away from my family!”

“Están trabajando para Escobar, Peña. Si quieres justicia, entonces esta es la única manera (They are working for Escobar, Peña. If you want justice, this is the only way),” is the only reply he gets. Carrillo spits at the ground.

Javier takes a step forward but suddenly, a shot is fired at his feet and he is forced to jump back with his hands in the air. His eyes are pleading, his voice wavering, “Jesus Christ, Carrillo, they’re not working for him. Put the damn gun down! They’re mine. They are my kids. You’re pointing a gun at my wife!”

Lucas shifts on his spot on the ground. His knees can barely hold himself up anymore, gravel gnawing at his kneecaps but Javier holds out a hand to stop him, “Don’t move, mijo (my son). I know you’re scared but—“

But Lucas’ eyes are wet with terrified tears. He panics, throws himself to the side to crawl away and the ghost of Javier’s previous colleague seems to come to the conclusion that it is too risky to attempt a shot in the boy’s direction in case he misses, so instead—

Javier flinches at the loud sound of the gun going off. You lie on the ground in the next moment. He lets out a cry of anguish, crawling across the gravel road to get to you until his hands are scraped and his knees are dirty. The love of his life and his unborn child.  

“No,” he yells as tears spring from his eyes. He clutches at you whilst you breathe rapidly and try to hold onto him as well but your grip is slowly loosening on him with every beat of your heart. He can see the way your pulse slows in how your clothes soak slower and slower, knows where it is going. You try to say something but he cannot understand it, your voice having been replaced by gurgles of blood, “No don’t try to talk, baby. Shit, I— look, it’s not even that bad. Shh, it’s okay, baby. It’s not even that bad, it’s fine, you’re gonna be fine, mi vida (my life). You and the baby. I promise.” 

The same blank stare as the one that Carrillo sports washes over your face. He says your name over and over, “Mi amor (my love), no, no, look at me. No, no, no no no.”

Inés has started screaming in panic. She’s crying for you in the most heart-wrenching manner, terrified when you don’t react to her words like you always do. Her pitch climbs with each passing second but Javier has no strength to soothe his daughter because he yells your name until it feels like he cannot breathe. 

Lucas yells for his mother in the background. The agony of hearing his children cry mixed with hearing you say nothing is too much for him. He panics, shakes you violently— 

He jolts awake in the next moment to the sound of your voice. Fear still has him in its grip and leaves him disoriented, ready to fight whatever comes his way. He hyperventilates until he feels lightheaded and tries to figure out where he is, beads of cold sweat having collected on his forehead during his restless sleep.

“Javi,” you say with a hand on his shoulder and he whips his head around to face you. A moment ago, your eyes had been glazed over by death.

Immediately, he grabs your wrist in an iron grip. You place your other hand on top of his, speaking softly, “Javier. Let go.”

“Are you alright?” He chokes out and grips you harder, eyes wild in the dimly lit bedroom. He wants to run a million miles, “Are you alright?” 

“I am okay, baby. We’re both safe,” you reassure him with a hand on your pregnant belly. Tears start to roll down his cheeks. He is unable to shake the image of you lying dead on the ground, “Shh…”

“Are you sure?” He whimpers, eyes flickering from your face to your stomach and back to your face again. 

“Yes. It was just a bad dream. It was just a nightmare,” your voice is still ever so gentle and nowhere near the way it had been in his state of terror. He releases the clutch on your arm and you carefully run a hand over his forehead, “Breathe. Hold my hand. Tell me you love me.”

You offer your free hand to him and he carefully takes it, trying to convince himself that you won’t slip away from him in the dark bedroom. You squeeze his hand slightly. It’s a silly thing you came up with years ago. 

“I love you,” he says quietly, already feeling a little better but when you say it back ever so gently, he finds himself bursting into tears. He cries and it is the kind that comes from the very bottom of one’s lungs; frantic and breathy sobs that sound almost painful.

He thought that the nightmares had stopped. They had been bad when he first met you, and he connected it to his decreasing alcohol consumption because back in Colombia, he was sometimes too boozed up to even dream. However, meeting you - marrying you - had been a glimpse into a future where he could get better because you were together. So why does his brain still do this once in a while? 

“Pensé que te había perdido para siempre (I thought I had lost you forever),” he sobs when you engulf him in your arms. He rests his head against your soft chest, grabbing onto whatever he can of you to make sure you are real. It’s only times like these when his strong, broad hands feel unsure on your skin. 

“Oh, baby. I’m right here,” you rock him carefully in a way that a mother does, “I’m not going anywhere, te prometo (I promise you).” 

“No puedo vivir sin ti (I can’t live without you),” he continues. You reassure him that he won’t have to, that by then, someone will have discovered eternal life or made all of you into kind-hearted robots. Despite the chuckle he lets out, you also let him cry for as long as he needs to. 

It takes you a while to calm him down again, resting your chin on top of his head as he lets himself fall into you instead of going out of his mind. He mumbles, “Where are the kids? Where’s Inés?”

“They’re in bed,” you promise him, arms cradling him and rubbing his back until his breathing starts to slow again, “They’re okay. They’re just asleep.”

Except they are not asleep. Your hand stops moving on his back, and he looks up at you to find your eyes on the door. 

“Inés. Lucas. Stop standing at the door,” you say gently. 

“Sorry,” they say in unison.

Relief floods Javier’s system at the sound of his children’s voices. His chest expands as he breathes in deeply for what feels like the first time since he woke up. He watches their little faces, hears the click of the lamp on your nightstand as you turn on the light. 

“Is Daddy okay?” Inés asks carefully. Her eyes tell Javier that he has noticed the tears on her father’s face.

“We heard you yelling,” Lucas elaborates to his father, “Inés didn’t want to go in here alone. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, sweetie,” your voice is sweet and calm. It is in these moments that he loves you the most; when you prove to be the anchor in any storm, knows that the only times he might actually get a good night's rest is when you are right here beside him. 

“Come here, mis amores (my loves),” he scoots a little away from you to open his arms. His children look uncertain for a moment but then Inés rushes forward to climb into bed and into his embrace. Lucas follows a moment after, the both of them earning a kiss on top of their heads. 

Inés’ eyes are wide as she stares up at him, “Papá, you scared me.”

“I had a bad dream,” he explains to both of them and attempts to smile, pulling them closer to his chest. They make faces as they are squished but he doesn’t let go, “but I’m okay now. I’m sorry for waking you.”

“Then why are you crying?” Lucas gets out of the embrace to study his face, shocked to see the tears running down until they drip down from his chin. 

“Daddy! You are crying!” Inés parrots her older brother as she notices too. She kneels in front of her father and tilts her head. 

“I am?” He asks, pretending not to know. Inés’ tiny hand reaches to wipe a few tears away without much success and his heart clenches in his chest with how lucky he feels to have such a beautiful family. 

“It’s okay to cry,” Lucas explains softly, “That’s what Mom says.”

“Alright, let’s give your father some space,” you lock eyes with your husband, cup his cheek for a moment before brushing away the last traces of tears from his face with the back of your hand. He smiles at you and it is completely genuine for the first time. 

“I don’t want to sleep,” Inés protests loudly.

“What if you both sleep in here for the rest of the night?” You bargain whilst still smiling at Javier, however a little more goofily now, “Just for tonight.”

Lucas is already crawling under the covers to cuddle up next to you, and Inés lays down next to her father. It takes a moment of quiet chatter and soothing caresses to make them both fall asleep again, their bodies exhausted from being awake in the middle of the early hours of the morning. 

Javier can’t fall back asleep but from the way you breathe, he can tell that sleep hasn’t found you either.

Outside, the first light of dawn has begun to filter through the curtains. There’s a warmer glow in the room now, and he peeks at you from where he lies, looking like someone catching a glimpse of their crush. 

"I love you," he whispers, his voice barely audible. 

You turn your head to face him and smile tenderly, the morning glow illuminating you from behind. You are so beautiful, he thinks, beautiful and pregnant, and he is so lucky. 

Your voice is filled with genuine happiness, warm and loving. You look down at your sleeping children, place a hand on your bump, and then look back up at him, "We love you too.”

.

.

.

FOLLOW @notjustjavierpena-fics AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS 💖❤️💖❤️

[nissmat-forum-123]

Coming Soon! I Narco Terrorism in India Part- 2 I Teaser Out I NISSMAT I...

[rightnewshindi]

एनआईए ने पंजाब नार्को-आतंकवाद मामले में दो आरोपियों की अचल संपत्ति कुर्क, जानें पूरा मामला

एनआईए ने पंजाब नार्को-आतंकवाद मामले में दो आरोपियों की अचल संपत्ति कुर्क, जानें पूरा मामला

Delhi News: राष्ट्रीय जांच एजेंसी (एनआईए) ने पंजाब नार्को-आतंकवाद मामले में दो आरोपितों की कई अचल संपत्तियों को कुर्क कर लिया है। इसमें कथित तौर पर प्रतिबंधित खालिस्तान लिबरेशन फोर्स (केएलएफ) के एजेंटों द्वारा शौर्य चक्र पुरस्कार विजेता कॉमरेड बलविंदर सिंह संधू की हत्या की गई थी। एनआईए की ओर से बुधवार काे जारी बयान में कहा गया है कि कुर्की की यह कार्रवाई मंगलवार को की गई। जांच एजेंसी के मुताबिक…

[teachanarchy]

Watch "How the U.S. Failed to Take Down Narco-Terrorism" on YouTube

[stylesispunk]

Nothing's gonna hurt you baby | prologue

Detective! Javier peña x f! reader

summary: You were kidnapped one winter night, but you have no memories of the incident or the person who took you. A year later, a homicide leads Javier Peña to your door, seeking help. He soon learns that he must protect the woman he loves.

chapter warnings: mentions of kidnapping, death, angst. The story doesn't follow the plot from narcos, but the use of Javier as the main lead in this story.

w.c: 1,7k

a/n: So lately I've been reading a little bit of this kind of genre and I wanted to give it a try, I got inspired by some readings and movies, and I know that this kind of topic may be triggering for a lot of people, but I'll try not to describe anything hard to read. Thank you in advance for allowing me to keep practicing with my writing, I hope I get better at this someday and I would love to know what you think!

masterlist

dividers by @/saradika

NEXT CHAPTER

There was a pain in your head when you woke up. The different voices in your surroundings were pounding against your skull, and terror creeped in.

You slowly opened your eyes, adjusting to the bright light piercing through your headache, intensifying the pain. You tried to recognize the people’s voices around you echoing in your ears, jumbling together into an unrecognizable symphony.

You attempted to move, but a sharp ache shot through your body. You winced. Panic crept in as you struggled to put the pieces together. Tiny fragments of broken memories flashed through your mind, but nothing seemed to explain why you were here.

As you blinked away the haze of confusion, you noticed a figure standing by your bedside—perhaps a nurse—with a gentle expression and a comforting presence. Their voice cut through the chaos, speaking softly to you, trying to reassure you. But the fear remained, gnawing at the edges of your consciousness like a relentless predator.

Questions flooded your mind, demanding answers that seemed just out of reach. What had happened to you? Why were you in the hospital?

“I was coming home from the restaurant; I had this fight with Tom,” you struggled to answer.

“Who is Tom?” the officer asked, walking towards your bed.

“My boyfriend,” you replied.

“That’s the last thing you remember?”

“That’s the last thing that happened yesterday.” You were completely confused, not understanding what was going on.

“Miss,” the officer began, carefully with the next words he was about to say: “That happened a year ago; you had been missing for a year.”

Your hands were shaking; you were completely lost, and the officer tried to comfort you. Your breaths came in short, shallow gasps, each one feeling like a struggle against an invisible weight pressing down on your chest. Panic clenched at your throat, making it difficult to swallow, as the reality of your situation crashed over you like a tidal wave.

The officer, sensing your distress, motioned urgently to the nurse, who hurried to your bedside with a concerned expression etched on her features. "We need something to help her calm down," the officer instructed, his voice laced with urgency.

You had woken up and come back from hell.

You had survived from a nightmare, your captor.

ONE YEAR LATER

Javier parked his car at the curb. The chaos of curious people had already gathered outside the house. Surely, for people to witness a homicide was not an everyday occurrence, and what had happened at this place woke great concern among the neighbors.

He had been working on the Violent Crimes Division for years. However, despite facing things that people wouldn’t normally endure, he had never fully gotten used to them. He had to face death almost on a daily basis, and yet it hurt to see a human become a lifeless frame on the ground because another person took their life away.

Yet he made his way through the crowd, avoiding the concerned people around him. He passed by reporters who asked such morbid questions he couldn’t even believe. The withering look he gave them was enough to make them feel angry, so he kept walking towards the cordoned house, with some officers making sure no one got too close.

“Good morning, people." He greeted her, crouching down under the police tape.

“Good morning, Peña." Steve was welcomed, joined by their other partner, Lauren.

Javier’s gaze traveled down and up his female partner, mesmerized not only by her blonde hair but also her hips. She was a doll, and he considered himself a lucky guy to witness her presence not only here but inside the four walls of his department almost every night.

“How are you, Javier?” She greeted her, placing and swagging her hair.

“Blessed by your presence here,” he answered, smirking.

Not long after, Lauren furrowed her eyebrows, signaling for their partners to follow her to the crime scene.

“What do we have here?” Javier asked, analyzing the horrid image in front of him.

“Naomi Warren. She was found dead this morning at eight thirty by her roommate. She told us Naomi always ran in the morning; it seemed like some crazy bastard followed her here,” Lauren explained, and they kept studying the situation.

They walked closer, and the girl laying there, lifeless, broke Javier’s heart; she didn’t seem older than twenty-five with a life ahead that stopped so suddenly. She was lying there in a white gown with her hands placed over her chest, holding a bouquet of daisies in between. 

“Guys, how are you?” the forensic greeted

“What do you think?” Steven replied, walking around, being careful not to step on the evidence around the girl.

“Do you have the cause of death?” Javier wanted to know, although he could imagine it already.

“It seems like she was strangled, but I’ll be able to tell you more after the autopsy,” she said.

The forensic officer motioned for them to crouch down. But he would initially assume that it was very likely that she had been strangled. The three detectives observed traces of blood in the victim's eyes, and the answer was almost clear.

“There was a note, though,” she clarified.

“A note?” Javier asked, taking a pair of latex gloves from the forensics’ briefcase and kneeling down.

With a gentle hand, he reached out to retrieve the note, his fingers trembling slightly as he unfolded the paper, his eyes scanning the words written in hurried script, and his brow furrowing in concentration.

The note was brief, yet its message was chilling in its simplicity. "You can't hide forever," it read, the words scrawled in dark ink that seemed to seep into Javier's consciousness like poison.

There was a name next to it: yours.

Javier's heart skipped a beat as he read the name next to the ominous message. It felt like a punch to the gut, the familiarity of the name sending a jolt of recognition coursing through his veins.

As the weight of realization settled upon him, Javier's mind raced with questions. What connection did this person have to the victim? And why had they left such a chilling message behind?

“Who kind of bastard could have done something like this?” Lauren asked as she gazed at Javier’s hands.

"Wait,” Steven said. “Do you remember that case from that girl in Boston?”

“Which one?” Javier asked,

“The girl who went missing for a year?” Lauren questioned.

Javier's mind flashed back to the haunting memories of the Boston case—the details of the missing girl, who had disappeared for a year before her tragic fate was discovered. The parallels between that case and the current one sent a shiver down his spine, the pieces of the puzzle slotting into place with eerie precision.

"The Boston case," Javier muttered, his voice tinged with a mix of dread and determination. "It's all coming back to me now."

Lauren's eyes widened with understanding as she connected the dots, realizing the significance of Steven's mention. "You think there's a connection between that case and this one?" She asked, her voice hushed with apprehension.

“There is a way to find out.” Javier's gaze hardened with determination as he contemplated Steven's suggestion. He knew they had to pursue every lead and exhaust every avenue of investigation to uncover the truth behind the chilling message and its connection to his own name.

"What do you have in mind?" Lauren asked, her voice betraying a hint of urgency.

Javier took a moment to collect his thoughts before responding. "We need to revisit the Boston case," he declared, his tone resolute. "We need to dig deeper, reexamine the evidence, and see if there are any overlooked connections between that case and this one."

Steven nodded in agreement, his expression mirroring Javier's determination. "I'll reach out to the authorities in Boston," he said, his voice steady. "We'll request access to the case files, interview witnesses, and do whatever it takes to uncover the truth."

"I know someone from there," Javier said, his voice resolute as he recalled a contact he had in Boston. The mention of this connection sparked a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty that hung over them like a shroud.

Javier had found that you and the victim were, in fact, similar. The eerie similarities between yourself and the victim painted a picture of connection that couldn't be ignored. His heart clenched with empathy as he imagined the fear and uncertainty you must have faced, knowing that the same darkness that had claimed the victim now threatened you.

You had moved from Boston and changed your last name. It was clear that you had been running from the ghosts, seeking refuge from the nightmares that haunted your past. But now, those same nightmares seem to have caught up with you, threatening to consume you once more.

With each passing moment, Javier felt the weight of responsibility pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket. He knew that time was running out and that he had to act swiftly to ensure your safety.

Armed with newfound resolve, Javier spared no effort in his quest to track you down.

As the first light of dawn broke through the darkness, Javier stood before your door. He knew that this moment would be pivotal and that the truth awaited him on the other side of that threshold.

With a steadying breath, he reached out and knocked, the sound echoing through the silent morning air. Seconds stretched into eternity as he waited, his anticipation growing with each passing moment.

And then the door opened, revealing you standing before him, bathed in the soft glow of morning light. Javier's breath caught in his throat as he took in your appearance, your eyes meeting his with a mixture of surprise and curiosity.

In that moment, time seemed to stand still as Javier drank in the sight of you, his heart swelling with a mixture of awe and protectiveness. There was something about you—something that stirred a deep instinct within him. The need to protect, to shield you from all the dangers of the world.

For a moment, he found himself lost in the depths of your gaze, the weight of his responsibility pressing down on him like a heavy burden. But then, with a shake of his head, he pushed aside his doubts and fears, focusing instead on the task at hand.

"I'm Detective Javier Peña," he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging within him. "I need to talk to you.”

[wanderinginksplot]

What to watch during the writer's strike:

Don't pay attention to companies who blame writers for delayed movies and television shows! The WGA strike comes from people who are trying to make things better - not only for themselves and other writers, but the films and tv shows we all love.

While we wait for a resolution, I thought I would share some existing television shows that I enjoy. I didn't bother with too much well-known stuff. Instead, I focused on shows I feel many people missed because of the glut of content that all premiered at once over the last few years. (I may make another one of these for movies later on, but this one is about tv.)

[Update: Movie version here]

Feel free to add on! Just try to give a quick, spoiler-free synopsis for the show and the streaming service where it can be found.

List under the cut!

Netflix:

The Good Place (2016-2020) - A 'bad' woman is accidentally sent to heaven. She and her moral philosophy professor of a soulmate try to save her soul by making her a better person. Genre: Comedy with deeper implications and one of the best endings in television history.

Russian Doll (2019-2022) - When Nadia dies at her birthday party, she's more than a little confused to come back. Especially when it keeps happening. Genre: Time loop drama with a wicked sense of humor and a dash of theoretical physics. Potentially not ended?

Narcos (2015-2017) - The fight of the American DEA and the Colombian army against cocaine kingpin Pablo Escobar and his reign of terror. Genre: Drama with thrilling elements. Lots of violence, some sex and language. Lots of subtitles. Features Pedro Pascal and Boyd Holbrook, if you need some extra incentive.

Derry Girls (2018-2022) - Five teens grow up in Derry, Ireland in the 1990s, amid the final years of the Troubles, a low-level war that lasted roughly 30 years. Genre: Comedy. Some sexual content, some religious content, less violence than you would expect, and the best nun ever to appear on film.

Arcane (2021-?) - Two sisters are alienated when one accidentally kills their adoptive father. Their different paths threaten the fragile peace of a city already on the breaking point. Genre: Drama with elements of action-adventure. Though it's animated, Arcane's animation is beautifully done with tantalizing steampunk elements that will keep you invested.

Disney+:

Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008-2020) - If you haven't seen any of the Star Wars animated series, this is a good place to start. Set in the time gap between Episode II and Episode III, this series helps flesh out Anakin Skywalker and the Jedi. It is also a great introduction to some of the characters and plots of The Mandalorian. (Star Wars: Rebels is another good choice.) Genre: Adventure with some drama. Violence and death are a large part of The Clone Wars, but it's usually appropriate for children. The clone troopers will steal your heart!

Gravity Falls (2012-2016) - Dipper Pines and his sister Mabel are sent to Gravity Falls, Oregon to live with their great-uncle for their summer break. But when Dipper finds a mysterious book in the woods, the pair find that Gravity Falls is far more mysterious than it seems... Genre: Adventure with a lot of comedy. Though it's billed as a children's cartoon, Gravity Falls is an intriguing watch with mystery subplots that will keep anyone guessing. It also features a famously strong and cohesive series ending. I was in my late 20s when I first watched this and I was still invested!

Daredevil (2015-2018) - After being blinded as a young boy, Matthew Murdock trained his other senses to replace the sight that he lost. He uses his skills to protect the helpless in the New York City neighborhood of Hell's Kitchen. Genre: Action and superhero. Features a lot of incredibly choreographed violence. (Jessica Jones is also an excellent show to watch, especially if you think of David Tennant as the consummate 'good guy'. He's got range!)

HBO Max (Just 'Max' now, I guess):

Ghosts (2019-2023) - Petty roommate squabbles don't stop just because you're dead! Alison and her husband Mike inherit a house, then a near-death experience allows Alison to see its ghostly inhabitants. Chaos and humor ensue as the ghosts try to adjust to the house's new owners. Genre: Humor. Ghosts is a British sitcom, but since the writers are comedians (writing and performing in Horrible Histories), the show is done in a style that feels more natural to American viewers. Hint: watch the BBC version, not the American one. They're fairly similar, but definitely not the same!

Pushing Daisies (2007-2009) - A pie-maker with the ability to bring back the dead helps to solve murders. He's helped by his once-dead childhood sweetheart. Genre: Comedy with some dramatic elements. Some of the CGI-heavy moments haven't aged particularly well, but the show has a unique premise and an incredibly talented cast!

Hulu:

Abbott Elementary (2021-?) - This mockumentary series showcases an inner-city elementary school in Philadelphia. The teachers and administration do their best for the kids, but they're constrained by budgets and the limitations of the educational system itself. Genre: Comedy mockumentary. Though Abbott Elementary is fictional, some of the issues brought up are all too real. This is a funny and incisive look at the American public school system.

Amazon Prime:

Fleabag (2016-2019) - The unnamed protagonist of the show struggles through life on her own with limited support from her alienated family and the memories of her recently deceased best friend. Genre: Comedy with lots of dramatic elements. Lots of sexual content and references, some language, breaking the fourth-wall, and several characters you just long to hit. I watched the second season in a single day, that's how good this was.

Unknown Streaming Service:

Black Sails (2014-2017) - This prequel to Treasure Island features elements from the book, original characters, and real pirates from history in a setting that emphasizes realism. Captain Flint and his crew search for a legendary prize... one that might allow them to claim Nassau for their own. Genre: Action and adventure. Think Game of Thrones, but with pirates. Incredibly well-written and well-acted with gorgeous scenery, LGBTQ representation, and just enough historical accuracy to keep things grounded. Black Sails also boasts one of the best endings ever given for a television show.

Like I said, please feel free to reblog and add your own television show recommendations onto this list! There are plenty of things to watch and plenty of ways to support the WGA strike that don't involve giving in to big studios.

[hotgirlbedtimescenarios]

The Story of Us

Haunted (pt. 2)

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: Then and Now. How Javi and reader have dealt with the fallout.

Words: 1.7k +

Warnings: sad and angsty; mentions of alcohol

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

THEN

The day Javier severed you from his life was permanently burned into his mind. The pain of that moment echoed through every waking hour, but it was in the sleepless nights that the agony truly engulfed him.

Each time he closed his eyes, your devastated expression flashed before him—betrayal etched deep into your features as he uttered those words that shattered your world.

In the lonely darkness, he saw how effortlessly you believed him capable of such cruelty, how your trust crumbled like fragile glass.

He wanted to reach out, to explain the unexplainable, to beg for forgiveness that he knew deep down he didn’t deserve. But he couldn’t. The danger that shadowed his life had cast a dark cloud over any chance of happiness with you.

Months passed by in a blur as Javier fought battles in the shadows. Sometimes, he allowed himself to drive through your neighborhood under the pretense of checking up on you. He drove past your home in the dead of night, long past when he knew you’d be asleep. His eyes swept the perimeter, always searching for something out of place, but he never found it.

What he did find was that every time he drove by, every fiber of his being pulled him toward you. He longed to pull into your driveway and walk up the steps into the home he’d grown to love. Yet, bound by the painful truth that he could never truly be with you, he never gave in to his desires.

At this point, he was sure you'd forgotten him, probably even hated him, but he always wondered.

---

Tonight, Javier finally got his answer.

Javi’s nighttime drives through your neighborhood came less frequently now that over a year had passed. But today, after a particularly tragic and violent day of work, he had to check on you. His fear for you never left him, always eating away at him in the back of his mind.

Tonight, he catches a glimpse of you, his beautiful girl.

Not his anymore, not really, because beside you is another man.

With a heavy heart, Javier watches as the man kisses you goodnight under the faint glow of your floodlights. You wave goodbye to him and close the door behind you as the man walks to his car and drives away into the night.

What Javier saw tonight confirmed it. You’d forgotten about him, probably hated him, and the last crumb of hope within him shattered.

 He didn’t even realize he still had it until it was gone.

But it's probably for the best.

---

NOW

The sight of you with another man that fateful night shattered the last flicker of hope within him. You had moved on, your heart now in someone else's arms, while Javier remains trapped in a cycle of regret and self-destruction.

He keeps a hidden polaroid, a relic of happier times when laughter and love still graced his life. But even that became a torment—a reminder of what he had lost and could never reclaim.

He swiped it from your bedroom the day he packed up his belongings and left.

The tiny square holds a perfect memory, the two of you barely in the frame. You were laughing, eyes sparkling, and smiling wide. Only a sliver of himself had made it into the picture, his side profile capturing the way his eyes locked onto the beautiful girl beside him, much like how he stares at you on the rare days he allows himself to unbury the picture.

After what he saw that night, he vowed never to look at it again. Once, that picture helped him remember who he was fighting this battle for, for the young woman he had come to know and love, wanting to give her a safe world free from Narcos terror. He’d already lost his mother; he couldn’t lose another precious soul.

Now, years later, the battle against Escobar ended, but Javier’s personal war rages on. The weight of his choices bare down on him, driving him deeper into a world of numbness and fleeting pleasures, seeking solace in whiskey and women.

The others think him a manwhore, but it’s the only thing that keeps him from completely caving in on himself. Only Javier knows it's an attempt to numb the pain. Trying to trick his body into thinking that intimacy with other women can make up for the loss of your touch.

And so, Javier Pena, once driven by a noble cause, now walks a path of self-destruction, willingly consumed by the vices that numb his pain but never erase it. The love he had known, the hope he had cherished, were buried beneath layers of regret and remorse, forever out of reach.

In the quiet depths of his heart, he knows that he has lost not only you but also himself. And as the years pass, his memory of you fades into the back of his mind where it can no longer haunt him.

But it's too late. The damage has been done

His last shred of hope for a happy life had been destroyed years ago, so he gladly transforms into a man you could never love; he barely even recognizes himself.

---

THEN

You hated Javier Pena.

It's a sentiment you clung to fiercely, wrapping yourself in it like armor against the memories of a love that once consumed you.

Replacing your grief with anger was the only way to move on.

The stages of grief came in waves. Early on was denial; it took days for the shock to wear off and the numbness to dissipate. Soon after came bargaining and depression; that was the worst. Constantly analyzing the relationship and desperately searching for a way you could fix it, to reclaim what you held so dear. It was in a loop in your mind, a constant merry-go-round of self-doubt and confusion.

Then came anger, the longest stage. For months, you beat yourself up over the situation, but you never could figure out what caused the abrupt desertion.

Unconsciously, you had begun to plan a lot of things, imagining the possibilities of a life together. You didn’t realize it until that future had been snatched away from you.

You never imagined he’d change his mind, not like that.

It carved out a part of you that never regrew. Scar tissue covered the wound he’d dealt, but the scar would forever remain. You had been blissfully happy, and he ripped it all away without explanation.

Your ability to trust was shattered, and tall, impenetrable walls were erected in its place, and you stopped dreaming of the type of love found in novels and poetry.

His betrayal left scars, ones that never quite faded despite the years that passed.

---

NOW

In the aftermath of Javier, you've found solace in Ben.

He is everything Javier wasn't—reliable and unwavering in his commitment. It took time to let Ben in, to mend the shattered fragments of your heart, but gradually, his patient affection stitched you back together.

Years melt into a tranquil routine with Ben by your side, a life built on stability and quiet happiness. The ache Javier left behind becomes a distant throb, an old injury you've learned to live with.

Until today.

At the corner cafe, amidst the serenity of your Sunday morning brunch ritual, Ben's voice breaks the peace, announcing the capture of Pablo Escobar.

The news, significant for its impact on Colombia, stirs no more than a passing interest in you. But then Ben slides the newspaper across the table, and there he is—Javier Pena.

His presence on the front page dredges up emotions you thought buried. You study the image, his familiar stance with his leg cocked to the side with hands on his hips. A satisfied smile pulls at the corners of his lips, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

Javier Pena looks older now. Time has weathered him, but you also have a sneaking suspicion it was the weight of the world on his shoulders that took the ultimate toll.

 Despite your resolve to move on, a wave of longing crashes over you.

Ben misinterprets your silence for admiration of the heroic figures on the page being praised for defeating the drug lord, unaware of the turmoil within you. You feel a pang of guilt for betraying Ben's unwavering support with a rush of nostalgia for someone who once set your soul ablaze.

The cafe buzzes around you, oblivious to the feelings raging inside. You return to the book in your lap, seeking refuge in its pages, but your thoughts drift to Javier—his laughter, his touch, the intensity that once drew you in.

You steal a glance at Ben, who smiles at you with genuine affection, oblivious to the ghosts of your past that have come back to haunt the present.

You take a deep breath, pushing back the memories that threaten to overwhelm you. The ache subsides, retreating to its usual corner of your heart. Javier remains a ghost from a chapter you've closed, yet his presence lingers like a phantom limb.

As you sit at the café table under the shade of an old tree, savoring the sweetness of the moment with Ben, you realize that while Javier may have ignited a fire within you, it is Ben who has nurtured a steady flame—a love built not on passion, but on trust, companionship, and a quiet understanding.

You close your eyes briefly, letting go of the past once more. The breeze whispers through the leaves, carrying with it a sense of peace.

Ben reaches for your hand, and you try grounding yourself in the warmth of his touch, grateful for the love that has healed you, even as echoes of Javier's memory linger in the corners of your heart.

You hate Javier Pena for how you made you feel, but despite it, at this moment, you miss him.

[womanfredvonkarma]

what's happening in argentina?

I don't fault you for the broad question because I'd ask too, but I need you to know that as a non-smoker I've never felt so strongly the need for a cigarette as I did just now thinking about answering this question. But I'll do my best.

In November of last year, the country elected Javier Milei as president. He would swear into office the next month. Javier Milei is a self-identified anarcho-capitalist and libertarian, although he states he is a minarchist in the short term (meaning he thinks the only functions the State should serve are those of law enforcement: no public education, social development, market regulations, etc etc). Some of his most controversial campaign statements included projects to legalise the free and unregulated sale of organs, and, along with his vice-president Victoria Villarruel (who in her youth organised visits to Jorge Rafael Videla in prison), apologia for the 1976 military dictatorship by revindicating the theory of the two demons (fair warning that from what I skimmed that article is biased in favour of the theory) and casting into doubt the estimated 30.000 victims of state terrorism (torture, disappearance followed by death) (also warning that that article uses the name the military junta gave this process) during its duration.

Since he took over six months ago, the population's purchasing power has dropped by 38%, plunging millions of people below the line of poverty. In stark contrast to this, Milei has been travelling around the world using public funds to visit his ultraright idols; most notably, Trump, who is not the political leader of any country at the moment (making his trip to see him a personal visit and not a diplomatic one, thus invalidating his arguments for using our money to go there).

On the subject of diplomacy, his government has been swinging quite a lot of bats at hornets' nests, accusing China and Brazil of communism and insulting the wife of the president of Spain. All of this is an international relations nightmare that will take endless apologies to undo.

Another interesting resolution deregulates the operations of foreign companies, SPVs, and offshore companies (article in Spanish), with the stated goal of attracting investments. Those types of companies have historically been used to conceal illicit activity, so resolutions in that vein pave the way to effectively turn Argentina into a fiscal paradise. This isn't the only problem they pose (offshore companies don't pay taxes, so there'd be a loss in the public sector, for example), but it is the most worrying to me because they also eliminated restrictions for Sociedades de Acciones Simplificadas (simplified stock companies), most of which have historically been used to commit crimes among which is the drug trade. Once you have narcos in your country, there's no taking it back--Argentina would be at real risk of ceasing to exist as we know it.

This administration is also slashing public spending, resulting in some universities suspending their activities temporarily. They also failed to deliver oncological medicine, depriving cancer patients of assistance the state is obligated to provide. As a result of this, several people have died already. In this climate of extreme poverty, soup kitchens have been shutting down en masse due to the withdrawal of state funding, and laws that protected tenants' rights and regulated rent prices have been severely modified to the detriment of the tenants.

The violent decrease in public spending also resulted in thousands of state workers being fired overnight. The attack is especially centred on state organisations that promote the arts or whose purpose is to fight discrimination. On this subject, 10% of the transgender and travesti workers who had their positions guaranteed by the law were fired illegally, and government members are outspoken about their opposition to this law--which isn't surprising. Diana Mondino, the current chancellor, has compared same-sex marriage to "the right to having lice" while she held a position in Congress. Ricardo Bussi, a current legislator, compared homosexuality to disability in October 2023. Coming to this year, Francisco Sánchez, the Secretary of Religion, said that the laws protecting the right to abortions, divorce, and same-sex marriage "seek to pervert our children and damage society". Milei is also on record describing abortion as "homicide aggravated by the bond".

Also recently, Milei's biographer, Nicolás Márquez, gave a one-hour interview in which he characterised homosexuality as a disease, claiming that when the State "promotes homosexuality" (as it allegedly did before Milei came to power), it is aiding a "self-destructive" conduct, supporting these claims with unfounded statistics about the correlation between STIs and homosexuality; he also denied the existence of homophobia and described lesbians and gays as being "against nature". For the sake of full disclosure, I will say he explicitly freed Milei and his government of responsibility for his declarations--but I think it's really important to point out the kind of people and rhetorics this government is giving a platform to; after all, nobody knew Nicolás Márquez before he started writing for Milei. In approximately the same time frame, and in response to a horrific hate crime that resulted in the death of three lesbians, Manuel Adorni, the presidential spokesman, said that he "doesn't like" to talk about a hate crime because men suffer violence too--and he said this in a press conference.

I'm probably forgetting something important--so much has happened in the past months--but I hope this is enough to give you an impression of the changes our society is undergoing. Please let me know if you have follow-up questions. <3

[bumblesimagines]

Imagine:

Being frenemies with Javier Peña

Request: Yes or No

Making up for my absence with the king himself

Pronouns for Y/N: technically gender neutral although it was written with a male y/n in mind

~~~

Steve never fully understood what started the feud between you and his partner, Javier Peña. He'd been occupied on his first couple of days on the job, but he certainly hadn't missed the passive-aggressive remarks you tossed at Javier or how Javier would scowl whenever you entered his vicinity. He learned quickly that Javier had a way of getting under people's nerves and assumed he'd done or said something to you that set off the rivalry. But you weren't exactly a saint either. With an ever-persistent smug smirk and a sly way with words, Steve understood why Javier disliked you, although not to the extent he did. Nobody bothered explaining it to him either. Javier liked shrugging his shoulders whenever Steve asked and you would ignore his existence until you needed him for one reason or the other.

Sure, he should've been spending his time trying to bring down the Narcos terrorizing the country, but he needed a break every now and again. And office drama was exactly the type of distraction he needed to keep himself sane and remind himself he was still human. It was why, whenever he had spare time, he found himself watching the way you and Javier interacted in the office. Javier complained and groaned whenever you got involved in something, but then he'd spend the whole day attached to your hip with his ear hanging on every word that drifted past your lips. Steve chalked it up as Javier taking his job seriously while out on the field but then he noticed he'd do it in the office as well. Javier watched you speak, listening intently as if you were preaching to him. The more time he spent around you and his partner, the more the dots connected.

"And what about you, viejito?" Your typical smirk sat prettily on your face, a finger running around the rim of your cup. Javier rolled his eyes and brought the glass of whiskey to his lips, dark eyes piercing into yours. Steve could never fully read Javier whenever you were around. It was as if a totally different man took over him. He leaned back into his seat and folded his arms over his chest, resuming his job of observing.

"What about me?" Javier swiped his tongue over his top lip and set his cup back down on the table. 

"You gonna spend the rest of your life chasing after 'informants'?" You tutted softly and shook your head. Steve knew what would come next. "I guess I can't blame you, Peña. If I couldn't keep a woman satisfied for more than a night, I'd stay single too." The blonde snickered quietly under his breath, covering the sound up with a cough when Javier glanced in his direction. 

"It's a choice, (L/N)."

"Sure it is." 

"You're single too, you know." Javier braced his arms against the table and leaned forward, gulping down the rest of his whiskey and setting the empty cup aside. You lifted your own cup and tilted it, pouring the remaining whiskey into Javier's glass. The movement was fluid, no split-second hesitation or any thought put into it. Steve wondered how many times you'd done it before. Surely, you'd gone out to a bar with other agents alongside Javier. But had you ever gone out with just him?

"How do you know I'm not seeing someone right now?" You shot back and raised a brow at him. Steve swore Javier's eyes narrowed for a moment, and from the way you grinned, you'd seen it too. You mimicked Javier's position and leaned forward as well, eyes darting between his dark honey-colored ones. "¿Te molesta? Que vas hacer si tengo novia o novio, Javi?"

Despite having been working at the agency for a while now, Steve remained rather clueless about Spanish. He spoke very little of it and mainly relied on Javier for translations. But he knew at least half of the words you'd said and translated them in his head to create a sentence that made sense in English. And boy was he glad he'd been paying attention. His gaze immediately turned to Javier, studying the way his jaw clenched briefly. His leg lightly bounced under the table and he looked away, looking over the others eating and drinking in the establishment. 

"Why would I give a shit about that?" Javier's voice held an edge to it.

"You look like you give a shit."

"I just feel for whatever sorry soul ends up with you." His reply sounded less hardened and bitter, taking on a more playful tone that still had you rolling your eyes. Javier took his glass into his hand again and Steve shifted in his seat. Your attention jumped to the American and you regarded him with little care. 

However, despite your indifference toward him, he enjoyed prodding Javier just as much as you did. "Is it that pretty girl you were talkin' to the other day? The tall brunette with the cheetah print dress, right? What was her name again? Maria? Mary?" There'd been no tall brunette with a cheetah print dress, but he didn't need Javier to know that. Especially from the way he frowned and leaned back in his seat. You stared at Steve, face unreadable, and for a moment he wondered if he'd crossed a line. Then, you grinned.

"Miranda." You 'corrected', looking back at Javier. His leg bounced a little faster. "She's from Medellín and came here for business."

"A hooker, then?"

"You sound relieved, Peña," Steve noted teasingly and Javier's head snapped in his direction, brows knitting and forming wrinkles between them. He scowled suddenly and stood up from the table, his chair loudly scraping against the tiled ground.

You laughed and stood as well, fishing your wallet out of your pocket and tossing some money down on the table before giddily following the sulking detective. Steve took one last swing of his whiskey and followed, tugging his jacket closer to his body when he stepped out into the cool night air. Javier offered him the keys to the car, lifting the cigarette between his fingers when Steve looked at him questioningly. You winked at Steve with that familiar smirk and Steve smiled, unlocking the car parked at the curb and getting inside. He felt it rumble to life beneath him and he subtly rolled down the window an inch to eavesdrop. 

"Miranda no existe, pendejo." You giggled, tucking a cigarette between your lips and cupping your hands around the lighter when Javier flicked it on. The detective grunted at your words and stuffed the lighter back into the cigarette pack.

"You're a real asshole, you know that?" Javier muttered and exhaled a puff of smoke into the air, notably more relaxed than when he'd left. You inhaled and pulled the cigarette from your mouth, releasing the smoke and bumping your shoulder against his. Javier dipped his head but Steve caught sight of the small smile that appeared on his face.

"You said it was never going to get serious, and yet here you are." You purred softly and Javier looked back at you. "You're lucky. Eres lindo cuando te pones celoso."

"We'll see what you think after we drop Murphy off."

Oh, yeah. The dots had thoroughly connected.

~~~

Translations:

Viejito = Old man

¿Te molesta? Que vas hacer si tengo novia o novio = Does it bother you? What are you gonna do if I have a girlfriend or boyfriend?

Miranda no existe, pendejo = Miranda doesn't exist, idiot/dumbass

Eres lindo cuando te pones celoso = You're cute when you get jealous

Gifs aren't mine.

[lunarw0rks]

Through The Ashes | Chapter Five

Summary: You've been given an offer to join the 141 Task Force. Upon taking it, you find yourself ensnared with the mysterious masked man who won't take his eyes off you.

Warning(s): my attempt at slow-burn, canon-typical violence, mild language, mentions of violence, injuries, blood, hurt/comfort kinda??

A/N: I've been using dialogue from the campaign for these chapters, so hopefully it translates well enough. Thank you for all the support :) | Word Count: 3.5k

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ prev. chapter | next chapter // requests | ao3 | playlist

Kiss Of Judas

Valeria remained completely silent during the entire helicopter ride, refusing to look anyone around her in the eyes. She never expected to be caught, at least not by foreign forces. She was a complicated woman in your eyes, always nearly impossible to read.

You still felt jumpy and wired from the whole operation as the adrenaline began to dwindle, which was not helping your impatience. Valeria was the reason for your condition, but also the reason you didn’t get the life squeezed out of you. And yet, here she was, not giving your Task Force any reach on where to find the missiles.

You opened the door with your keycard and stepped inside, seeing her sitting in the middle of the room—surrounded by your team and the allies.

Her eyes flicked up at you when she heard the motion, mirroring the look she had in her eyes when you were the one in the interrogation chair. You ran your tongue over the cut on your lip, keeping a blank expression.

“Las Almas needs me,” she purrs, giving Alejandro and you a glance. She was searching for any sign of emotion in your eyes as if testing you. You weren’t going to give it to her, or anyone else in this room who tried the same.

Alejandro bends down closer to her, hovering his face in front of hers. “Las Almas needs soldiers, not sicarios… And you,” he begins, looking back at you before he speaks, as if referencing what she let happen to you. “You disgrace the Army, Valeria.”

She wasn’t like Hassan.

He was too emotional when backed into a corner—he was cruel. She always kept a cool attitude about her, always steps ahead of her enemies. And she harbored one skill you hadn’t mastered yet—keeping your enemies close.

Ghost remains posed against the wall, only keeping his eyes trained on the target. “You’re a narco harboring a terrorist.”

Valeria maintains a grimace, carelessly leaning against the back of her chair. “Terrorism is good for business, it’s insurance.”

“Innocent civilians turned to ash, all to protect your drug game?” You finally spoke up, crossing your arms to your chest. When law enforcement is more focused on maimed civilians, they turn a blind eye to the war on drugs.

She ignores what you’re implying, too intelligent to admit that out loud. “To find your terrorist and your missiles, you need me.” Valeria tilts her head, observing the tightness you were carrying in your posture.

Graves approaches her from behind, gripping one of her shoulders with a gloved hand. “I want the missiles, I want the targets, and I want Hassan. You’ve got ten seconds or I’m gonna show you the difference between the military and me.” For once, his combativeness might get you the answers you needed.

To get to Valeria, you needed to mirror her. Ladylike interrogation was not the way she did things, so the opposite was all she knew.

“I can tell you where to find the missiles. When you return, I’ll tell you where Hassan is.” She never meets Graves’ eyes. “In exchange, you will let me go. And get the fuck out of Las Almas.”

“Deal.” Graves loosens his grip and nods his head to the rest of you.

Making a deal with her was not in the team’s best interest, not in the slightest.

Graves only saw the big picture ahead of him, and he didn’t pay any mind to the people he would trample to get to that goal.

—

The intel Valeria grave led your team to an oil rig miles out on the Gulf Of Mexico. Considering how horribly wrong your last mission involving water went, you were hesitant to see the team going along with it, even if it did lead to the missiles.

How could you be sure Valeria was being honest? She had no reason to. She had the entirety of your unit wrapped around her fingers, and that’s exactly how she wanted it.

Perhaps you were lucky you nearly died the previous night because you were going to sit the mission out.

You’re sat on your bunk, cleaning your pistol with a rag, being the only person left in the quarters. Your eyes flick up toward Ghost as he approaches. Usually you would ignore him, or have some snarky remark, but there were bigger problems everyone was facing.

“Do you think the missiles will be where she said they would?” You questioned, setting the rag on the mattress beside you.

“She knows if she gives us this, we’ll have no choice but to set her free.” He keeps his eyes on the ground, still refusing to look you in the eyes. “We’ve been through situations like this before. Terrorists are all the same—only out for themselves.”

You nodded and dropped down from the top bunk to face him. He turned around hesitantly, his face contorting in confusion.

You looked around the room, making sure it was clear before you spoke. “What about Graves? Is he only out for himself?” You muttered, leaning close to him.

“He’s an ally of ours, until we know otherwise, you need to act like it, Sergeant.” He grumbled while reaching for his pack. The truth was, Ghost didn’t trust any of them either. The way Graves forced you into the operation yesterday made him seethe.

Ghost blinked away the emotions that filled him. The flashbacks he had, hearing you struggle for yourself in his ear, the gunshot that followed with silence—all while all he could do was stay put on the hillside.

He grabbed his bag and looped it around his shoulder. “Just say put here, and don’t make any more enemies while you’re at it. Think you can handle that?” He added, looking down at you as if you were dirt on his shoes.

You knew you were right. The most spiteful people have their weaknesses, and Graves had one for sure. Even if no one believed you now, they would soon. You just hoped no one had to die for it to become clear.

—

You’re awoken by what sounds like a disturbance outside, and the voices are familiar. The team must be back from disarming the missiles. You look at the clock, seeing it’s early in the morning.

You sit up straight and gather your composure, curious about what’s going on. Whatever it was didn’t sound good at all.

“This is my base.” You press your ear to the wall, hearing Alejandro’s voice first.

“It’s not a base. This is a sizable covert facility, and I admire it.” Graves speaks next. “So, I’m taking it.”

You feel like your jaw dropped to the floor. You were right all along, and things were about to go very bad very fast. You climb off your bunk and put on your backpack, grabbing all of your gear. 

“Nobody needs to get hurt here.”

“Are you threatening us?” Ghost asks. You can practically feel the tension building, even if all you’re hearing is bits and pieces.

You peer out the window, seeing them standing at the gate. Alejandro is inches from Graves’ face; Soap is in the middle of it; and Ghost preemptively has a hand on his knife, searching for any excuse to use it.

Where are the rest of Los Vaqueros? The realization came that you hadn’t seen any of them since the team left.

A burst of gunfire filled your ears, making you jump. You didn’t have time to sit around and watch, and you weren’t going to be the next person sent home in a box. You grab your pistol and make sure it’s loaded and ready.

The compound will be swarmed with Shadows any minute now—and there was no time to regroup with your team.

You hear Graves’ voice again, but this time through a nearby radio, followed by the stomping of boots. “2-0, cordon the compound. If you find Ghost and Soap, keep them contained. Find the other one, she won't get far.”

You kneel behind the large structural pillar, watching as one of the Shadows patrols the sleeping quarters. He turns his back to respond, “Sleeping quarters are clear, Sir. No sign of her.” You crept behind him, jamming your knife into his jugular.

He goes down quietly, only suffering for a matter of seconds. The Shadow didn’t deserve your brutality. He couldn’t have known what hand Graves was going to play up until now. Still, it was better for them to be dead than you. And there was no time for a moral dilemma.

You jog to the armory, finding it cleared out. Graves was thinking way ahead of just taking the building, he was taking the inventory too, leaving your team with nothing. “Goddammit,” you muttered to yourself, before dashing back to the Shadow’s body. You winced as you ripped the rifle from the corpse’s stiff fingers.

You need to keep moving.

You advance to the upper level, wagering that it would be less noticeable to take one of the side exits up top. You do just that, finding a window in one of the offices to squeeze yourself through. Your feet prowl down the metal steps, keeping your eyes peeled for any hostiles. Lucky for you, the backend of the base isn’t well protected.

Your boots crunch the gravel below you, even when acting at your stealthiest. You reach one of the tall chainlinks bordering the perimeter, and loop one foot through it, taking each ascendant one foot at a time.

You reach the top, using the fabric of your shirt to protect your hands from the barbed wire. You carefully swing your leg over, and follow with the other, now descending down the other side. You drop down once the distance is close enough, taking only a second to catch your breath.

The easy part's over—now you needed to find an area that wasn’t crawling with Shadows on the lookout for your face.

The previous night's injuries didn’t make the ordeal any easier. You found yourself having to rest quicker than usual, almost letting out pained grunts when you extended your limbs. You needed to push through it, just like you did when you survived the tunnels.

You removed one of the backpack straps off your shoulders, leaving it to rest on one side, while the weapon rested on the other. You need to get out of here before another Shadow patrol rotates your way again.

The only sound in the distance was chirping insects, and faint traffic pollution from the city and the base behind you. Things were too quiet.

“Commander, possible sighting by the North Tower, engaging now.” You heard faintly, making your eyes bulge. Your feet carried you before your mind could decide to, making some distance between yourself and the noise.

You felt the rush of the bullets whizzing around you as you bolted until eventually you were knocked down by a lucky one. Your body tumbled down, rolling into one of the ditches. You felt a fiery sting on the fatty part of your hip, flinching as you pulled down the part of your waistband atop the wound. It was a deep slice, bloody and jagged torn skin.

Mercifully, the backpack slowed down the force of the bullet when it zipped through. It grazed your skin instead of being buried inside it.

“Approaching to confirm the hit, Sir.” The voice from before carries, as it echoes through the vastness of the humid air.

“Don’t confirm it—Finish it.” Graves chirps through, sending a rush through your veins. Once the Shadow finds you, it wouldn’t be a graze. If there was any chance of making it out of here, you needed to either choose fight or flight.

You muffled the sounds of agony escaping through your lips, biting into them instead. You scrambled to your feet, reaching for your pistol.

The soldier’s radio static grew louder as he examined the ditch, expecting you to still be laying there. In reality, you were behind one of the concrete dividers lining the path. Before he noticed you, you fired off one shot, dropping the Shadow. You followed the lights of the city in the distance, getting yourself as far away from where you fired as possible.

When you made it several yards away from the compound, finding yourself on a sidestreet, you finally utilized the radio clipped to your collar.

You turned the knob, finding the correct channel so it would go straight to anyone in 141 and not the Shadows. “This is 7-1, how copy? Anyone?” You grew frustrated at the lack of answer. “I repeat, this is 7-1. Anyone copy?”

The voice glitched at first, before it finally came through. He says your name, his tone filled with defeat and worry.

“How copy, Sergeant? You injured?” The reception finally cleared, allowing you to hear it clearly.

You sighed and cleared your throat. “I’m hit, but solid. I got a dozen Shadows chasing my tail. What the hell happened?”

Ghost doesn’t answer your question, but deflects. You sense it has to do with what he spat your way before they left. He knew you were right about Graves, and he wasn’t, and he couldn’t handle admitting that right now.

“There’s a church near the plaza. I’m heading there now. Any sign of Johnny?”

“No. You’re the first I’ve come in contact with. Was he hit? I heard shots before I got out of there.” You continue down the backroad, approaching the main district of Las Almas.

“Affirmative. Keep your eyes peeled for him. And watch your back, Sergeant.” The line cuts after he finishes his sentence, leaving you to stay alive on your own. Soap must be somewhere in the shops in the same prickly situation you are.

There was no time to search for Soap, especially if he’s left a trail of Shadow bodies through the city. You’re of no use out here when you’re bleeding all over yourself.

You needed to find Ghost.

—

Each time a gun fired in the distance, you had to double check you weren’t hit again, even though it felt foolish.

You finally reached the outskirts of the plaza, where the Church was sitting on the top of a hill. It looked almost ancient, tilting to one side. You hovered your finger over the pistol trigger as you crept to the door. You pushed it open, hearing it creak loudly as you did so. There was no light inside, except for where the night sky peaked through the holes in the walls, and one large gap in the roof.

Finally, you spotted his figure near the altar, knelt beside it. You limped up to it, meeting his eyes, which were all you could see given the dark clothing he was wearing.

You slowly dropped to your knees next to him, placing your pistol in the holster. “No sign of Soap while I was out there. Goddamn city is infested with Shadows.”

He nodded at your update, grabbing one of the stray candles off the altar. He fishes out his lighter and puts it to the wick, illuminating your battered appearance, while allowing you to view him.

You stare at him blankly for a few seconds, studying him as he takes the backpack off your shoulders, and begins to dig through it.

“I didn’t have time to pack supplies. There’s nothing whole in there.” You comment, watching as his brow tightens in concentration.

He still hasn’t uttered a word this entire time, simply returning deep glances through the warm candle fire. You flinch when he reaches toward you, but his hands are gentle and slow. He pulls up the fabric of your shirt only slightly, and pulls down the side of your waistband now turned a deep maroon.

You keep still as he examines the graze. He grips the sleeve of his jacket, and rips off a square of fabric with ease, beginning to pack the wound. You snuff out your struggles when he touches the tender parts, clenching your jaw instead.

For the first time, it wasn’t him saving you because he had to; he was because wanted to. He was showing an inkling of the tenderness buried deep within him.

He finished packing the wound with the tear of fabric, before carefully covering your bare hip with your waistband again.

You rise to your feet again, making sure not to put pressure on that side of you. You’re expecting hours of silence between you and him—hours of agonizing silence.

He finally speaks once his back is turned to you, as if he can’t look you in the eye. “You were right about Graves.” He sounded apologetic, like if he had just believed you before, none of this would’ve happened to you.

You tilted your head delicately, stepping closer to him. “Ghost… This isn’t on you. You couldn’t have known Graves would flip.”

He was looking down at the wood floor below him in disappointment, looking as if he wanted to curse himself. You reached out your hand, placing your fingertips on his forearm.

“Ghost,” you whispered. He shook his head and gathered himself before facing you, flinching away from your hand. His eyes had gone glossy, filled with angst.

“If this is about what I said, Ghost—It’s not a concern of mine anymore… We clearly have bigger problems.” You finished your sentence with a light smile, trying your best to lighten the mood. Your attempt to add comedy did nothing to ease him tearing himself apart inside.

“Did you hear me, Simon?” The first time you’ve said his name. He casted a look you’d never seen before. Not hardness, not anger, just torment.

“People like me don’t belong with people like you, Sergeant.” His exterior ran cold again, and he straightened his posture. “Everything that we did, everything you went through because of it, that was all me. Got it?”

You were stunned, completely stunned. You spent so long being angry at him, that you were blind to the truth of it. It wasn’t arrogance he used as a shield, it was his scars.

“Simon-” You repeat, feeling like you have been sucker-punched in the gut.

“Don’t say my name like it means something to you. None of it meant anything to me.” He snaps, stepping closer to you, using his frame to tower over you. The vulnerability he showed only last seconds before it quickly became a thorn in your side.

He lowered his voice to give his last blow. “I break everything I touch… I’ll break your heart, Love.”

You felt tears sting at the corner of your eyes. You tried to be stronger than this, but paired with everything you’d been through to get you to this spot, it was too much.

You quickly wiped them away and ripped your backpack from his grasp, slinging it back on your shoulder. You hurried toward the church doors, painting your face void of the emotions you were feeling.

Once you were outside, you radioed the frequency again. “Soap, how copy?”

He replied almost instantly. “Copy. I’m by the shopping district.”

Instead of following behind Ghost like usual, you led him. You ducked through alleyways, avoiding the Shadows rather than taking them out. There were still too many left to count. When you reached the shopping district, you and Ghost split off to take out each hostile one by one. With each kill, you followed the bloody trail that would lead you to Soap.

When you laid eyes on him, you let out a breath of relief. He was only hit on his arm, and it went through.

“Forgive me, Lass.” He was slumped against a brick wall, holding his injury. “But you look horrible.” At least you knew there wasn’t anything seriously wrong with him now. Focusing on him made you forget about your troubles with Ghost, even for just a minute.

“Well, it’s clear there’s no brain damage.” You said backhandedly, reaching out your hand to him.

You helped him to his feet and found an empty vehicle that was left behind, allowing him to climb inside. Ghost took the driver’s seat, you in the passenger seat. You kept your eyes trained on the passing views as Ghost sped out of the city, showing no signs of slowing down for anything.

Las Almas was soon to be a distant memory—a memory that lingered within you nonetheless.

—

You craned your neck up at the aquamarine sky, your attention locked to it. You had to find the beauty of this place somewhere, even if the experience was only filled with violence and heartache.

The rest of your team was finishing up business with Valeria. You decided to sit it out. The closer you stood to the plane, the faster you would be climbing inside of it when they finished their business here.

Price and the rest of the Task Force approached the cargo plane you were standing by, making you break your gaze with the sky.

“Good work here, Private.” He patted your back and then returned his hands to the collar of his tactical vest.

“It’s not over yet. Valeria was privy to a third missile, somewhere in Chicago. Might be another long flight.” You acknowledged the update, following him onto the plane. It never truly ends, does it?

There are only moves and countermoves until there’s no one left standing to shoot at or bomb.

TAGLIST: @neoarchipelago @ghostlythots @gothgirl6-6-6 @cloudyyjanee @ladyelissarose @almightywdm @glitterypirateduck

[ltash]

Her greatest fear..

Warnings: 18+, Implied Smut, Dark! Modern Warfare, Horny! Modern Warfare, Possessive Behaviour, Territorial Behaviour, Entitled Behaviour, Threatening Behaviour, Incel-Coded! Modern Warfare, Dub-Con Themes, Forced Sex, Physical Restraining, Kidnapping, Breaking and Entering, Reader Being Held Hostage, Abuse of Physical Power, Slut Shaming, Pet Names, Profanity, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except You.

Valeria Garza The El Sin Nombre was unbreakable but Ghost had other plans on his mind.

"Tell the truth or I'll fuck the words out of your mouth."

The container door groaned open, revealing the dimly lit interior where Valeria was brought inside for interrogation. Graves and Alejandro were basically fighting with her, their voices a chaotic clash against her stoic silence.

Despite their relentless badgering, she wouldn’t budge, her eyes cold and unyielding.In the shadows, Ghost watched her, blending into the darkness like a phantom. His gaze was fixated on her, studying her every move.

Valeria, known in the underworld as El Sin Nombre, was a vicious killer who never hesitated to pull the trigger. Breaking her would be a challenge, and everyone in the room knew it.Five men surrounded her, but she stood alone, defiant and untouchable.

She was the kind who came, conquered, and left no trace of vulnerability.

Ghost admired her ferocity; he had a twisted fascination with breaking the spirits of those women who seemed unbreakable. Injecting them with theirvenom, sowing doubt – these were his games.

But this woman was unlike any he had encountered before.

She sat there like a Queen but he had decided then and there to bring her down to her knees, break her until her foundation starts to ramshackle.

Valeria was muttering in Spanish, a steady stream of words that Ghost couldn't understand. Frustration gnawed at him, but he remained silent, his eyes never leaving her. He could feel the tension in the room rising, the frustration of the men around her growing with each unanswered question.

Finally, Ghost couldn't hold back any longer. He stepped forward, his voice cutting through the din. "You are a narco harboring terrorists," he accused, his tone cold and precise.

Valeria's reply was immediate, and it caught him off guard. "Terrorism is good for business," she spat, her eyes flashing with a dangerous glint.

Alejandro had warned everyone: making a deal with Valeria would never end well. Yet here they were, trying to break her, to extract the information they needed. Despite their relentless pressure, Valeria didn't crack. She didn't reveal where the missiles were hidden, nor did she disclose the location of Hassan.

The room grew heavier with each passing second, the weight of their failure pressing down on them. Ghost felt a flicker of doubt. This woman, this fierce, unyielding force, was not going to be easy to break. But he knew he couldn't give up. Not yet. The game had only just begun, and he was determined to see it through to the bitter end.

Ghost sat on his bed that night, his leg continuously fidgeting. He was a ruthless and merciless killer, dispatching enemies without a second thought. A dark side lurked beneath the skull mask he wore, a side he rarely let anyone see. But that woman, Valeria, had awakened the beast inside him.

Ever since she had stepped foot in that container, he couldn't get her curvy body out of his mind. The swell of her ass, her snatched waist—every detail was etched into his thoughts, taunting him. He had seen many women, but none had ever affected him like this. She was more than a challenge; she was an obsession.

He would love to devour her, to break her spirit and body alike. The thought of her defiance crumbling beneath his touch sent a thrill through him. But he knew he needed to be patient. Valeria was not a woman to be underestimated. He would wait for the perfect moment, the perfect crack in her armor, and then he would strike.

He made up his mind and got up, determination fueling his every move. Grabbing a roll of duct tape and a handful of zip ties, he slipped silently out of his quarters, making his way to Valeria's container in the darkness of the base.

The night was still, the only sounds the distant hum of machinery and the occasional murmur of guards on patrol. He knew everyone was likely asleep, leaving only the gate guards as potential obstacles. But for Ghost, even they posed no significant challenge. He moved like a shadow, unseen and unheard, his dark intentions driving him forward.

As he approached the container, his pulse quickened. This was the moment he'd been waiting for. He would break her, strip away her defiance, and make her submit. The thought alone sent a shiver of anticipation through him.

Ghost reached the container, his senses heightened, every nerve on edge. The guards were just a few meters away, but he knew how to avoid their notice. He crouched low, moving swiftly and silently, until he was right beside the container.

With a final, deep breath, he opened the door and slipped inside, the darkness enveloping him. Valeria was there, as defiant as ever, but tonight, Ghost was determined to change that.

He closed the container door behind him slowly, the metallic click echoing in the confined space. Valeria was lying on the floor with her arm under her head, her eyes narrowing as she saw him approach.

"What are you doing here?" she spat in her thick Spanish accent, defiance clear in her voice.

"I am here to teach you a lesson," Ghost replied, his deep, husky voice filling the room. As he stepped closer, Valeria instinctively took a step back, her eyes flashing with anger and fear.

"Don't you dare come near me," she warned, her voice shaking slightly.

Ghost moved swiftly, pulling her close and wrapping a strong arm around her. His hand clamped over her mouth, muffling her protests. He peeled a piece of duct tape and pressed it firmly over her lips, silencing her. She struggled, but her jabs were useless against his brute strength.

He took out a zip tie and secured her wrists tightly, her struggles only tightening the plastic restraint. With effortless ease, he lifted her onto his shoulder, her body writhing in a futile attempt to escape. The truck he had prepared was parked nearby, its engine still warm from earlier use.

Ghost carried her to the truck, the cool night air brushing against his skin as he moved. He opened the trunk and unceremoniously tossed her inside, her body landing with a soft thud. Without a second glance, he closed the lid, the sound of the lock clicking shut echoing in the stillness.

Ghost turned the key, and the engine rumbled to life. He drove the truck to the gate, where the guards recognized him and opened it without question.

"Going for a drive," Ghost said casually before accelerating through the open gate.

He navigated through the thick trees, the darkened path familiar to him. It wasn't long before he reached Alejandro's secluded safehouse, hidden away from prying eyes. Ghost parked the truck and climbed out, moving swiftly to ensure the place was deserted. Satisfied that no one else was there, he returned to the truck and opened the trunk.

Valeria's death stare greeted him, her eyes burning with fury and defiance. He could see the fire in her eyes, a fire that only made him more determined.

"Welcome home," he said in his thick British accent, a smirk playing on his lips.

She wanted to scream, but the duct tape over her mouth muffled her cries, turning them into frustrated, muted sounds. Ghost reached in and grabbed her, pulling her out of the trunk. Her body was tense, every muscle straining against him, but she was no match for his brute strength.

He carried her inside the safehouse, the door closing behind them with a finality that sent a shiver down her spine. This was his domain now, and she was at his mercy. The game was on, and Ghost was ready to play.

He pushed her down onto the ground, straw scattered everywhere. With a rough tug, he ripped the duct tape off her mouth, making her scream in pain.

"On your knees!" he growled, his voice filled with menace.

He stood before her, looming over her with his towering 6'4" frame. His broad shoulders cast a shadow that made her gulp in fear. His piercing brown eyes glared down at her from behind the shining skull mask, a sinister symbol of the darkness within him.

"What do you want?" she yelled, defiance still flickering in her voice.

"Keep your fucking voice low," he roared, the power in his voice silencing her instantly.

The room seemed to shrink around them, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Valeria's heart pounded in her chest as she knelt before him, trying to steel herself against the fear and anger that threatened to consume her.

"Where are the missiles?" he demanded, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "And where is Hassan?"

"Fuck you!" she roared back, her defiance unwavering.

In an instant, Ghost stepped closer, his hand shooting out to grab her thin, fragile neck. He pulled her up, forcing her to stand on her tiptoes, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

"Control your pretty little mouth, or I will fuck the truth out of it," he spat, his grip tightening just enough to emphasize his threat.

Valeria's eyes widened, a mix of fear and fury flashing in them. She could feel his power, his control, and she knew he was not one to make empty threats. Yet, even as her body trembled, her resolve remained strong. She would not break. Not yet.

He threw her back on the floor, her back hitting the ground with a painful thud. She whimpered in pain, but her eyes still burned with defiance.

"What do you think, that I'll tell you?" she spat. "I'll tell Alejandro what you did to me."

Ghost's expression darkened. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, dragging her across the rough floor. She screamed in agony, the pain shooting through her scalp.

He threw her onto a stack of hay, her body landing awkwardly. Before she could react, he was on top of her, trapping her between his thick thighs. He held her wrists so tightly that bruises began to form, his grip unyielding.

"You're not going to tell anyone anything," he growled, his face inches from hers. "Now, where are the missiles, and where is Hassan?"

Valeria's eyes met his, her hatred palpable. Despite the pain and fear, she still managed to hold on to her defiance. Ghost could see it, feel it. He knew breaking her wouldn't be easy, but he was prepared to do whatever it took.

Valeria remained silent, her defiance unyielding even in the face of Ghost's rage.

"I won't ask again," he roared, his patience wearing thin.

"Kill me, but I won't tell you," she spat back, her voice trembling with defiance.

Ghost's eyes narrowed, a flicker of anger flashing across his face. Without a word, he stood up and unbuckled his belt, taking it in his hand. He threw her onto the haystacks with force, her body landing with a painful thud.

"I would fuck that pretty mouth of yours, but that's a nice ass you got there, doll," he taunted, his voice dripping with malice. "Care to get it spanked?"

"You won't do anything like that, I'm telling you," she protested, desperation creeping into her voice.

"I will now," he growled.

He grabbed her pants and unbuttoned them, ignoring her feeble attempts to resist. With a rough tug, he pulled down her pants, leaving her only in her thong.

"Such a juicy ass you got there," he remarked, his tone mocking.

His belt made a sharp impression on the soft skin of her ass, eliciting cries of pain from her lips. But there was no one to hear her, no one to come to her rescue. She was at Ghost's mercy, and he showed her none.

"I would love to fuck you right here, right now, you whore!" Ghost spat, his grip on her hair tightening as she whimpered in pain.

"But before that, let's paint this ass of yours red," he growled, the belt striking her tender skin once more. Each hit sent waves of agony through her body, and she couldn't suppress the cries that escaped her lips.

Tears streamed down her face, mingling with the sweat and dirt that clung to her skin. She felt helpless, trapped beneath Ghost's relentless assault.

He struck her again and again, each blow leaving her trembling with pain. Her cries turned to sobs, echoing in the empty room as Ghost continued his merciless onslaught.

"I think you're having fun right here," Ghost mocked, his voice dripping with malice.

"Let me go, please," Valeria begged, her voice trembling with fear and desperation.

"The fun has just begun. Why so early?" he laughed cruelly. "I won't waste that pretty cunt of yours."

He whispered in her ear, his words sending shivers down her spine. She heard the rustling of clothes before he unzipped his jeans.

"No, please don't," she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper.

"The time is over," he yelled, his grip on her neck tightening as he pushed his entire length inside her. She choked under his hold, feeling him thrust deep inside her, his full tactical gear pressing against her skin.

Her cries filled the safehouse as she begged him for mercy, but he showed none. He pinned her into the haystack, his relentless thrusts destroying her with every movement.

"You feel me, slut. Just right down there," he growled, his hand pressing against her lower belly where he had invaded her.

"Si! Papi." She whispered breathlessly..

Valeria's world spun with pain and humiliation, each thrust pushing her closer to the edge of sanity.

"So, are you gonna tell me now, or should I keep fucking the hell out of you?" Ghost demanded, his thrusts deep and relentless. With each movement, he pushed her closer to the edge of pain and pleasure.

His cock hit her cervix, making her whimper in pain, her body tensing under his weight.

"I-I will tell you," she started breathlessly between moans, the words forced out of her lips by the overwhelming sensation of him inside her.

"That's like a good girl," he whispered, his voice a dangerous purr.

"Please, slow down," she begged, her voice pleading for mercy.

"Not before I finish," he declared, his thrusts becoming faster and deeper with each passing moment.

She tried to grab onto the haystack for support, but he pushed her aside, his hands gripping the ground for leverage as he approached his release. With a final, primal grunt, he emptied himself, his juices covering the ground beneath them.

He was panting, his breath slow and shallow as sat on his knees glaring right back her.

Valeria lay still on the ground, her body trembling with desire and frustration. He hadn't allowed her to finish, but he had left her wet and aching, her head spinning with conflicting emotions.

He pushed his dick back inside, zipping his pants up with a satisfied smirk.

"That was awesome. Your are so tight," he winked at her before standing up, his demeanor casual as if nothing had happened.

He pulled her pants up and zipped them for her. "Now, tell me," he demanded, lifting her up by her arm.

She looked down in embarrassment, her resolve crumbling under his intimidating gaze.

"Chi-cago! Missiles are in Chicago. Hassan is still in Las Almas," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

"That's like a good girl," he praised, a smirk playing on his lips as he put the duct tape back over her mouth.

"Wait!" she tried to protest, but he covered her mouth with tape once more, silencing her effortlessly.

He carried her back to the truck, his movements swift and confident as he drove back to the base. Pulling over near the container, he took her out and led her inside.

"I'm going to pull off the tape. Don't make a sound, or you know I know how to shut you up while I'm still here," he threatened, his voice low and menacing.

She nodded, fear evident in her teary eyes as he gently removed the tape and cut her zip ties.

"Nice talking with you. You are such a good fuck," he smiled under his mask before closing the door behind him, leaving her alone in the darkness once more.

[still-searching-for-something]

HTS may be Islamists, and could introduce a host of different issues to Syria, but one thing is certain and undeniable: the fall of Assad is a very good thing that has left the world a better, safer place. The dismantling of his regime and its worst excesses, such as the end of Sednaya and their Shabiha death squads, for example. But Syria Ba'athist regime had another, lesser known role that has thankfully come to an end: it was the biggest drug dealer in the Middle East.

Maher Al-Assad, Bashar's brother and infamous for his cruelty and thuggishness, ran the largest narco state in the world, producing and trafficking the drug Captagon. Captagon is a highly addictive, hallucinogenic drug popular in the Middle East. It's also known as fenethylline, and it's noted for being used by ISIS and Hamas during terror attacks for the sense of calm and invulnerability it causes--including October 7th, the concert attack in Russia, and ISIS's 2015 Paris attacks.

This industry was worth tens of billions of dollars, and at its peak produced 80% of the world's captagon, which ruined lives in Saudi Arabia, Syria, Jordan, Egypt, Oman, Iraq, and Palestine. The majority of Captagon users were aged 12-22. Minors were being addicted to the stuff, and captagon production, export, and trafficking served as one of the main sources of income for the Assadist regime during the civil war, and one of the main ways it propped up its economy. In fact, the export of illegal drugs constituted 90% of the revenue of Assad's regime in the early 2020s.

A lot of people seem to implicitly believe that criminality, including the drug industry, assassinations, armed robbery, and so on are all inherently apolitical acts. But this is just not true--a lot of the world's most infamous dictators like Josef Stalin, Nicolae Ceaușescu, Jean-Claude Duvalier, and indeed, Bashar Al-Assad were simultaneously prolific gangsters, thieves, murderers, and embezzlers. Syria manufactured and exported drugs to fund the continued repression and murder of its people and sustain Assad's political power. What is authoritarianism, if not rule by gangsters and criminals?

All this is to point out that HTS has, at least for now, ordered a cessation of the production and export of captagon, and that the flow of Syria's captagon out of the country has fallen by 90%.

So, when tankies try to defend Assad as having 'fought against Western imperialism' or 'stood for Palestinians,' remember that Assad was a butcher who murdered over 600,000 of his own people, and ruined the lives of millions of people outside of Syria, including children, including Palestinians and Saudis and Iraqis and Jordanians and so on, by addicting them to a dangerous drug used by Jihadist terrorists.

The world is unambiguously a better, safer place without Assad in power, and as time goes on, I suspect more of Bashar al-Assad's heinous crimes against humanity will come to light. But at least this one, which was still going strong just a few months ago, is done.

[annaphoenix1994]

Devil's Deal

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»»-------¤-------««

The following morning, each of the soldiers running on fumes and no rest, entered the shipping container used as a makeshift interrogation room behind Graves, who had been gripping Valeria along with him before forcing her into the chair. Ghost stood in the shadows, hidden away like he always liked, watching the interrogation before him. Kiera stood alongside Alejandro while Soap and Rudolfo leant against the wall on either side, Soap's arms crossed over his chest as he watched. 

Valeria chuckled, "Ah, señora, nice fight back there." She taunted at Kiera, looking at her face in the natural sunlight coming from the window. 

"Yeah? Well, I can't say the same about you." She retorted. 

"Alright, how do you two know each other?" Graves asked Alejandro, pointing.

"Know is a strong word." 

"Las palabras fuertes son importantes. Nuestra palabra es nuestro valor, verdad? (Strong words are important. Our word is our worth, right?)" Valeria taunted at him.

"Vete al infierno, hijo de puta! Te mataré! (Go to hell, you son of a bitch. I'll fucking kill you!)" Alejandro shouted, raging toward her, both Soap and Rodolfo were quick to stop the man in his fit of rage. 

"Alejandro!" 

"Cálmese, comandante. (Calm down, Commander.)" 

"Yeah? Yeah?!" He scoffed, walking away briefly before turning around to face Valeria. "Vamos, tell them." 

"I don't take orders anymore. Even the dogs in Las Almas know not to bark at me." 

"She's ex-military. We served together."

"Different squads, same unit," Valeria stated, leaning back in her chair and draping her arm over the back of it. "You were the wild ones, huh? Los Vaqueros." 

Alejandro smiled. 

"My squad was clean cut señores y señoras." 

"Until the raid on the son of La Araña. Te acuerdas? (Do you remember?)"

"Recuerdo perfecto. (I remember perfect)."

"Her team was told to cordon off the city to keep out La Araña's enforcers and prevent the bloodshed." 

"That's exactly what we did."

"Well, you kept out his enforcers, because you were his enforcers, huh?"

"He was escorted to the mountains without incident. Also to prevent bloodshed." She smirked, mocking Alejandro.

"He was supposed to go to prison." Rodolfo commented. 

"So, you killed him, and you took over," Graves said, putting his hand on her shoulder to put her back into her chair. "Why?" 

"I created a power vacuum and filled it. Las Almas needs me." 

"Las Almas needs soldiers, not sicarios. And you - you disgrace the Army. Y tus hermanos, no? (And your brothers, no?)" 

"Why're you doin' this?" Graves asked. 

"You tell me. You're the contractor, no? What you don't do, your competitors will." 

"You're a Narco harboring a terrorist." Ghost chimed in. 

"Terrorism is good for business. It's insurance."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Alejandro scoffed. 

"Puedes sacar tu maldita caeza de tu trasero por un segundo? Joder, Alejandro! (Can you get your fucking head out of your ass for a second? For fuck's sake, Alejandro!)" Valeria shouted. "As long as there is a war on terror, there will be no real war on drugs. To find your so-called terrorist and your missiles, you need me. To prevent bloodshed." 

"No, I'm not doing this." Alejandro sighed. 

"Doesn't change anything--"

"It changes everything! Fuck! Don't make a deal with her. It won't end well." Alejandro warned, nodding for Kiera to follow him out, only to be stopped in her tracks by Valeria's next words, which now turned the conversation into something of personal grit. 

"All the pussy and all the power, huh?" 

Ghost looked at Kiera, watching the gears in her head start to turn as she turned around to look at her. God, she's intimidating. "You can't use the advice I gave you in the past to use against me in your fucked-up little world you're living in." She retorted, pointing her finger at her. 

All of the men, including Alejandro, looked at her in confusion. Now, how does she know her?

"So how do you two know each other?" Graves questioned. 

"I know of her, but not personally," Kiera replied, glaring at Valeria. "Do you want to tell them? Or should I?" 

Valeria smirked, "Vamos." 

Kiera breathed a scoff, the tension between the two so thick you could slice it with a knife, "When I was assigned to Las Almas the first time, I was doing recon. Actually, the same bar I went to the other night to get an invite to your precious little party," She mocked at her. "Oh, by the way, you should get more men that aren't so eager to get their dicks wet to work for you. All I had to do was say I would fuck him before he's throwing an invitation at me." 

Valeria went to stand to her feet but was forced back down by Graves. 

"If I remember right, you were a prostitute. You and one of the many men you brought in that night were at the bar and he made you order his drink, so I gave you advice on how to be a woman - you had the two things that man wanted that night: all the pussy and all the power. I guess you turned it into malicious intent," Kiera recalled. 

»»-------¤-------««

The bar reeked of beer and tequila as Kiera took another drag from a cigarette, thinking about her next plan for her mission. As she scribbled on her napkin of pointless lines to a stranger, a woman and man stumbled their way to the bar, the woman was smiling and babbling on about how amazing their night was going to be, but the man didn't seem so eager. With a rough Spanish accent, he said, "Tráeme un tequila con hielo. Dos aceitunas. (Get me a tequila on the rocks. Two olives.)" before walking towards the restroom, leaving Valeria standing in shock, a frown plastered on her face. 

"Mujer. (Women.)" Kiera scoffed, taking another sip from the whiskey she had ordered. 

"Lo lamento? (I'm sorry?)" Valeria replied. 

"La vida se trata de perspectiva y tú no tienes ninguna. (Life is all about perspective and you don't have any.)" 

"Todavía no entiendo. (I still don't understand.)" She said, knitting her brows as she wondered how a white woman with striking blonde hair spoke Spanish so well that she would pass for a local and not a tourist. 

"I just sat and listened to that man talk to you like a damn dog and order his drink for him while he went to go and fix his hair," She scoffed in English, offering Valeria a cigarette. "When you learn to use the two things you were blessed to have, you'll have all these men bowing at your feet." 

"Yeah? And what's that?" 

"You have the two things every man wants: all the power and all the pussy. When you make them work for it, they'll either stay or they'll go. But either way, they'll be to your every whim." 

"I never thought of it like that." 

"Now you do. Keep it that way. It'll keep you out of trouble." 

Taking another drag from her cigarette, she tensed as she couldn't wait to see the situation unfold before her. The man had returned with stark anger and irritation. "Dónde está mi bebida? (Where's my drink?)" 

The women shared a glance, Kiera nodding in approval for Valeria's needed response. "Consigue tu propia puta bebida. (Get your own fucking drink.)" 

Kiera chuckled, taking the last sip from her whiskey, "Man, that cheered me up." 

»»-------¤-------««

"How's that working out for you now?" 

"You tell me." Valeria shrugged. 

"Since you say that, it looks like you're sitting here being interrogated because you're housing a terrorist when it's an eighth wonder of the world that you're not in prison by now." 

"Alright, knock it off, you two," Graves sighed. "Officer, step out and cool off." 

Kiera nodded, following her orders before Valeria spoke again as Kiera got to the door, "You should read the fine print, señora. When it comes to me and the cartel, you shouldn't poke a bear." 

"Yeah? Well, there's one thing you're forgetting about me," Kiera replied, standing to face her, and locking eyes with Valeria. "I'm the bigger bear. Even you know not to bark at me." She mocked. 

Valeria scoffed, "I did last night, didn't I? Roughed up that pretty little face of yours, no?" 

"Do we need a repeat of last night?" She replied, recalling the damage to Valeria's face that was significantly more damaged than Kiera's. "Because I'll do it." 

"Doubtful." 

"We'll see about that. And I suggest you tell us everything we need to know," Kiera warned with a sly smirk as she opened the door, turning back to Valeria to say one last thing. "To prevent bloodshed." 

Bloody fucking hell, Ghost thought at the altercation, recalling brief moments of the women's fight from the night before. If it wasn't for a life-or-death scenario, he'd want to see it again. Mainly because both Kiera and Valeria didn't fight like a typical brawl you'd see in high school - this was a hand-to-hand, bare-knuckle fight that was entertaining to watch. As much as Ghost hated to admit it, he had to give Valeria respect for charging at Kiera first. Even he wouldn't do that. He briefly recalled getting curious about Kiera's background while talking to Alejandro a day or two after their arrival, Alejandro confirming that she was extremely skilled in hand-to-hand combat, weapon control, reconnaissance, mounted shooting, and intelligence. After all, she had to be when being trusted by the C.I.A when it came to locating a target. 

After the door had shut, Soap then spoke up to Valeria, "Looks like it's your turn to tell the truth."

"I want the missiles. I want the target, and I want Hassan. And you've got ten seconds or I'm gonna show you the difference between the military and me." Graves warned, a new tension filling the room. 

"I don't know the targets. I'm a courier, I move things. I can tell you where to find the missiles and when you return, I'll tell you where Hassan is. In exchange, you will let me go and get the fuck out of Las Almas."

"Deal. Until then, you're staying right here." 

[lavoixhumaine]

Diaz cheating on a nun with a cylon. The Wilsons being terrorized by a knock off Bond villain. The Nashes are in fucking Narcos. No one is crying in the Buckley-Han family.

Are we seeing how fucking wild this is?