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literaryavenger · 2 months

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Captain America: Civil War - 5

Summary: Team Cap gets taken to the Raft.

Pairing: Avengers x Reader, Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of injuries. Language. Mentions of Y/N. A little angst if you squint. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 1.8K

A/N: Thank god it took me very little to finish this one! Hope you like it!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

The Raft.

That’s where they sent you after they arrested you in Germany. The fucking Raft.

You haven’t even seen Wanda since you were handed your very unstylish new clothes and they made you change.

You got separated from her when they took you to your cell between Scott's and Sam's. You dread what they're going to do to her, but you're powerless to stop them.

You sit on the ground of your cell and don’t move from there, barely registering what happens around you until the sound of clapping snaps you out of your trance.

“The Futurist, gentlemen!” Clint shouts but you still don’t move, just listening to the scene. “The Futurist is here! He sees all! He knows what's best for you, whether you like it or not.”

“Give me a break, Barton.” You hear Tony say and almost show some emotion, but stop yourself. “I had no idea they'd put you here. Come on.”

You hear Clint spit and then say “Yeah, well, you knew they'd put us somewhere, Tony.”

“Yeah, but not some super-max floating ocean pokey. You know, this place is for maniacs. This is a place for…”

“Criminals?” Clint interrupts him. “Criminals, Tony. Think that's the word you're looking for. Right? That didn't used to mean me. Or Sam, or Y/N, or Wanda. But here we are.”

“Because you broke the law.” Tony says.

“Yeah.” Clint says back and starts chanting “La la la la la” while Tony talks, making you grin slightly.

“I didn't make you. You read it, you broke it.” Tony keeps talking. “Alright, you're all grown up, you got a wife and kids. I don't understand, why didn't you think about them before you chose the wrong side.” he says and your face falls again immediately, knowing Tony went too far.

“You gotta watch your back with this guy.” Clint says before slamming his hands on the bars angrily. “There's a chance he's gonna break it!”

“Hank Pym always said, you never can trust a Stark.” You hear Scott say from the cell on your right.

“Who are you?” Tony says, his voice closer to you than before, and you can hear Scott mumbling “Come on, man.”

Tony gets to your cell and sees you sitting on the ground, hugging your knees tight to your chest, your head resting back on the wall while you look straight ahead.

Tony is nothing short of shocked when he sees your face all beat up and bruised, your arm bandaged with blood seeping through it showing just how big and deep the cut is, all courtesy of Ayo.

“I never wanted to see you like this...” Tony says softly but you don’t even react to his words.

He’s standing in front of you but it’s like he’s not even there, like you’re looking right through him to something more interesting behind him.

Tony sighs and shakes his head before moving to Sam’s cell.

“How's Rhodes?” Sam asks right away.

“They're flying him to Columbia Medical tomorrow. So… fingers cross.” Tony answers and you close your eyes, grateful that he’s still alive at least. “What do you need? They feed you yet?”

“You're the good cop now?” Sam asks almost in disbelief.

“I'm just the guy who needs to know where Steve went.” Tony answers calmly.

“Well, you better go get a bad cop, because you're gonna have to go Mark Fuhrman on my ass to get information out of me.”

“Oh, I just knocked the 'A' out of their 'AV'.” Tony says, much too playfully for your taste. “We got about 30 seconds before they realize it's not their equipment.”

You furrow your eyebrows at his next sentence. “Just look. Because that is the fellow who was supposed to interrogate Barnes. Clearly, I made a mistake. Sam, I was wrong.”

Your eyes snap open at his apology and, even though you can’t see either of them, you know Sam’s feeling the same way as you, which is confirmed by his next sentence. “That's a first.”

“Cap is definitely off the reservation but he's about to need all the help he can get. We don't know each other very well. You don't have to-”

“Hey, it's alright.” Sam interrupts him, then you hear him sigh and after a little pause he says “Look, I'll tell you… but you have to go alone and as a friend.”

“Easy.” Tony says and Sam proceeds to tell him all about the Hydra base in Siberia and the other supersoldiers.

When Tony leaves, Sam once again tries to make sure you’re okay even if he hasn’t had luck at getting an answer out of you since you got here.

He knocks twice on the wall between you two then pauses and then knocks three more times fast before talking, a thing you two started doing since you both moved into the Avengers Compound so you would know it was the other knocking right away. “Are you okay?”

You don’t answer him and can hear him sighing before continuing talking.

“Look, I’m sorry you got caught up in this and-”

“I don’t regret the choice I made, Sam.” You interrupt him before he can finish his sentence, speaking up for the first time since you got arrested at the airport. “As much as this sucks, it was the right thing to do. I know it was.”

You don’t say anything else. Sam can tell you mean it and he knows better than to push you.

“They’ll be okay.” He says after a moment of silence and then lets you be.

You know he means Steve, Bucky and Tony but you can’t help but think he’s trying to reassure you that Bucky’s gonna be fine.

And you can only hope that he’s right.

A couple of weeks after Tony’s visit there’s a commotion in the prison.

You haven’t so much as made a sound since that day, aside from your daily knock on the wall between you and Sam so he can make sure you’re okay, knowing you well enough to know you don’t want to talk but still wanting to check in.

But you can’t help but let out a loud gasp when you see Steve just standing in front of your cells.

You look around when the cell doors open and you hesitantly get up from the floor and walk towards Steve. He hugs Sam, then you, then Clint and then pats Scott on the back, but doesn’t linger long before he’s guiding you towards another level where Wanda is.

You get to her just as the door to her cell opens and you rush inside with Clint to take off her collar while he takes off her straightjacket. You hug her tightly and wrap your arm around her with Clint to help her move you since she looks a little worse for wear.

You manage to move through the prison without problems. You have to hand it to Steve, he’s a hell of a criminal.

When you get to the landing pad you see the Quinjet ready for take off and you all rush inside just to see Bucky at the commands and you smile brightly at the sight.

You have no time to comment, though, as Sam shouts “What are you waiting for?! Go!”

Bucky rolls his eyes but calmly says “We have one more coming.”

You frown. One more? You turn to Steve confusedly but before you can ask anything you can see blond hair darting into the Quinjet and then Natasha’s there.

Bucky instantly takes off and you all take seats and buckle up.

There’s a moment of silence while everyone processes what just happened, but you break it while looking at Natasha that’s sitting directly in front of you.

“Are we gonna talk about the hair?” You ask arching your eyebrow with a smirk.

She groans in annoyance and you can hear the others chuckling while she says “We are not.”

After a few hours you all get to a safehouse and Steve ushers you in before showing you around.

It’s not bad: a secluded cabin with three bedrooms, not too big but Steve assured you you wouldn’t be staying there long anyway. Which makes sense, you're on the run now so this is just temporary.

After the tour Bucky approaches you in the living room and only then you notice he’s missing his metal arm.

“You flew the jet with only one arm? That’s impressive…” You can’t help yourself as you reach to touch his left shoulder, your eyes fixated on it. But stop on your tracks when you feel his right hand carefully cupping your cheek.

Your eyes snap up to his and you can see him thoroughly inspecting the wounds in your face that are still healing a little. He grimaces when he looks down at your bandaged arm and whispers “I’m sorry…”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle, Sergeant.” You smile softly at him and put your hand over his still on your cheek, trying to reassure him that you’re fine.

“I bet you can, doll.” He chuckles.

You’re too busy staring at each other to notice everyone’s attention is on you until Steve clears his throat with an apologetic look on his face.

“We need to go, Buck.” He says and you look confusedly between the two men.

“I’m going back into cryo.” Bucky clarifies for you.

“Oh.” Is all you can say and your eyes widen for a second before you force yourself to put on a more neutral face.

“It’s okay.” He smiles at you, but you feel like he’s trying to convince himself as much as you. “It’s nothing I can’t handle, doll.”

You try your best to smile and not look too bummed out. “I bet you can, Sergeant.”

You hesitate for a moment before surprising him, the others and even yourself by giving him a hug. He hesitates too before delicately hugging you back and, after a moment, you pull away.

He smiles at you with a faint blush and you smile back, watching him walk to the door.

Steve passes you on his way to the door and kisses your forehead, whispering “He’ll be okay” before saying goodbye to the rest of the team, assuring you that he’ll be back soon. Then he also goes through the door and soon both the supersoldiers are gone.

You turn around with a sigh and see Sam, Natasha and Clint standing there, grinning at you, Wanda and Scott looking more compassionate than teasing.

You narrow your eyes at the first three and say sternly “Not. A. Word.” punctuating every word by pointing threateningly at each of them.

They raise their hands in mock surrender while snickering but thankfully don’t say anything and everyone just scatters around the safehouse.

You see the Quinjet depart from the window and try your best to look at the bright side: This isn’t forever, you’ll see him again.

Right?

Requested taglist: @sapphirebarnes @aki-ham @mary-jinx @abbyyourlocalmilf @selcouthial @esposadomd @americaarse

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1americanconservative · 8 months

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@ScottFishman

Tucker is Outing Obama as Gay. But Everyone is Missing the Big Story. I’m Obama’s College Classmate. I’ve Been Trying to Warn America for 15 years! By Wayne Allyn Root I’m Barak Obama’s college classmate at Columbia University, Class of ’83. I’m also the author of the #1 bestselling hardcover book in America in 2012, “The Ultimate Obama Survival Guide.” I’ve always had Obama’s number. I understand what makes him tick. I understand his goals. First let’s get the “gay issue” out of the way. I’ve reported on both my radio and TV shows for 15 years that my wealthy, connected friends in Chicago have always said, “Obama frequented gay bath houses and gay clubs. Everyone in the know, knows Obama is gay.” Now that we’ve heard from Obama’s biographer that Obama wrote about his daily gay fantasies, I think it’s pretty clear my Chicago pals were right. Tucker Carlson is onto something! But gay is not the issue. The issue here is fraud. If Obama is in fact gay, then he was lying to the American people from day one. He portrayed himself as a happily married family man with a wife and two beautiful young daughters. That’s called fraud.

If America had known the truth in 2008, does anyone honestly think Obama would have been elected president? But all of this is small potatoes. This is not the big story. Why does any of this matter now? Because Joe Biden is a brain-dead puppet. This is the third term of Obama. The proof is we are all reliving the nightmare Obama economy. Great for Wall Street and billion-dollar multi-national corporations. But a disaster for the American middle class and Main Street. Second, Biden is fading fast – and everyone can see it. At the same time Biden’s cognitive health is in freefall, all of his corruption from the past is pouring out of the closet. Biden is finished. He is toast. He will never make it to 2024. Sometime this fall Biden will have a very public “episode” and be hospitalized. Soon thereafter he (or Jill) will announce he is stepping down for “health reasons.” Who will replace him? Either Michelle Obama or Gavin Newsom. But whoever it is, Obama will be calling the shots from his nearby Washington DC mansion. That’s why this story matters. I’ve had Obama pegged from the first day. Obama is the ultimate “Manchurian Candidate.” Gay is unimportant. What matters is he was groomed to be president by the Deep State and communist, fascist, globalist enemies of the United States. What matters is Obama is a radical Marxist tyrant carrying out the destruction of America.

Obama was tame in his first two terms. He was “boiling the frog slowly.” But Trump ruined his plan. Now Obama is trying to destroy this country as fast as he can before Trump has a second chance to undo the damage. And at the same time, Obama is coordinating the attacks on Trump to either imprison him, kill him, or disqualify him. My guest on my show, “America’s Top Ten Countdown” on Real America’s Voice TV last week was former Illinois Governor Rod “Blago” Blagojevich. Blago’s Governor’s mansion was raided by an early morning FBI Swat team. Sound familiar? I pointed out to “Blago” that Obama’s fingerprints were all over his frame job… and FBI SWAT raid… and long prison sentence. Obama set him up. Obama took away his freedom. I asked him to comment. Blago reported, “Obama set up the meeting that led to my arrest.” Do you get it now? It’s the exact same M.O. as what’s happening to President Trump. The same FBI raids, persecution, frame job. The same weaponization of government to destroy Obama’s political adversaries. I’ve always said the key to understanding Obama was his time at Columbia University.

First, there is the “Ghost of Columbia” mystery. I was a Pre Law, Political Science major. So was Obama. He had to be in all the same classes as me. But he was never in one class. I never met Obama, never saw him, never heard of him, never met anyone at Columbia who has. Obama got in, so why didn’t anyone ever see him? My educated guess is Obama was in the Soviet Union studying communism. Columbia had a “sister school” in Moscow. That would be the only real answer as to why Obama was rarely if ever seen at Columbia. He was being groomed way back then by the enemies of America. Secondly, at Columbia we learned a plan to destroy America called “Cloward Piven.” I’ll bet Obama spent two years in the Soviet Union at our “sister school” becoming the world’s expert. Look around. Everything happening in America today is Cloward Piven… The open borders bringing millions of foreigners into our country, changing our demographics forever. The explosion of welfare and bailouts. The Green New Deal. The destruction of our military. The end of the dollar as world reserve currency. The plans for pandemic lockdowns, climate change lockdowns and Central Bank Digital Currency.

The censorship, banning of dissent, and weaponization of government against conservatives and Christians. Defund the police. The vicious criminals let out without bail. Critical Race Theory and Transgender brainwashing. Persecution of PTA parents. Conservatives and Christians classified as “domestic terrorists.” The arrest of political opponents. 87,000 new IRS agents. It’s all about Cloward Piven and communist-level control. Sound familiar? It’s what Obama the “Manchurian Candidate” learned in the Soviet Union from the best. This man was groomed from day one by the communist and globalist enemies of America. He was sent to destroy us. Now he’s working behind the scenes to finish the job. He is the man who ordered the spying on Trump. The framing of Trump. Now he’s the man directing the nonstop government attacks against Trump. Just as he did to Blago. So, Obama being gay is the least of it. America is being destroyed. Obama is at the root of every evil thing happening.

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woso-lover · 9 months

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My heart is numb, has no feelings | Sydney Lohmann

Sydney Lohmann x reader

Summary: Comforming Sydney after she put soul and heart into the game, but it wasn't enough.

English is not my first language

Masterlist

A/n: Is a bit rushed, 'cause I'm still heartbroken

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You couldn't believe it. No one could. Germany is out of the World Cup. A dream of yours destroyed. How you wished you hadn't injured yourself against Columbia. If you didn't, you would be on have been on the pitch, maybe making a difference. But this was not case. It was a historical moment and maybe the fall of Germany.

The game started without the luck for Germany. In the 6th minute South Korea score the leading goal. A shock to everyone. The whome time you had Waru by your side as you sat next to your girlfriend, Sydney, on the bench. You hoped he would give you luck abd dammn it did. The 42th minute Alex Popp shot a header. 1:1 Germanys is in. The bench jumped up. You quickly glanced to the big screen in the stadium, but the camera wasn't on you. So you kissed your girlfriend, before she could jump up to Laura.

Everthing was fine until you went to the changing rooms. The smile quickly turned away, when everyone git told that Marroco was leading 1:0. Now Germany needs a win. And the tension was there again. The pressure of winning. To not let history repeat itself from 2018 with men team. To not also fall down like them, in a big hole. To not be a part of the big tragedy of german football.

When you returned on the pitch and were about to sit down you looked at your teammates. Fear, nervousness, tension were the things you could see in their faces. And with that Germany went trought the game playing poorly. After a few minutes into the second half your coach came up to Sydney and told to warm-up.

The 57th minute, Popp put the ball in the net with her head but laid down injured. In the end it was offside. So still out of the World Cup.

The moment Sydney stood besides the coach with Lena Lattwein you could see the feeling from the pitch went now also to her. You just watched her waiting to get subbed in. The moment you found the right words, she ran off to the pitch.

The time was ticking and ran against Germany. And you watched with horror as there seemed no chance for Germany to score a second goal. South Korea defened very well. No chance to break trought. It started to feel like Germany lost hope. But not your girlfriend Sydney. She tried over and over again. She didn't want it to end.

Then 9 minutes of stoppage time. But the South Korean played on time. Their goalkeeeper stayed on the ground for a long time. The player got injured. They did everything to let it be a draw. But as soon as Germany had the ball they shoot and shoot and shoot at the goal. Hegering and Sydney win the ball by duels. But the last action didn't work out. A few times even Sydney tried it by herself. But the ball wouldn't go in. After an offensive foul from Lea Schüller to win the ball back. The ref whistle her whistle.

For a moment you couldn't move. It still felt so unreal. You looked to your right seeing Laura on verge of crying. The next you looked to your front, meeting the eyes of your bestfriend, Lena Oberdorf, who tried to cry. Then you were searching for yor girlfriend. You stood up, trying to hide your tears, looking for Sydney. After a few seconds you found her perched and hiding under her jacket.

"Syd..." You whispered while carefully tuching her shoulder. She looked up at you. And you swore you would have break down. The way she looked at you. Tears streaming down her face, checks red and sobbing. You helped her to get up and to put her jacket on. Then you put her into a hug. With that Sydney fully broke down and sobbed into your shoulder and neck. You were also about to break down, but you knew you needed to be strong for her.

"I-I..." You hushed her down and put your hands on her checks.

"You did everything you could, Schatz. In the end you were the only one who tried and was brave, Syd. I'm proud of you because you played incredible. You gave your heart and soul into the game." You gave her a kiss on the forehead. "But sometimes it's not enough." You stopped speaking. Tears running down your own face.

"Thank you" Sydney whispered before hiding her face in your neck.

After while Martina, your coach, gathered everyone in a circle and spoke a speech. To be honest you don't even know now anymore what she told you. You were more busy holding your girlfriend, trying not to break down yourself and looking at everyones sad faces.

And this wasn't even the hardest part yet. You also needed to go trought the reporter. You were happy nobody sent Sydney in there. But they were meaner then this and put the two youngest up to the Interviews.

Everyone was a bit happy when they arrived at the hotel. It seemed like they all came down a bit. And everyone went to their rooms in silent. When you arrived your room next to Sydneys you quickly grabbed a short and shirt to wear for bed and change into it. You knocked on Sydneys door to let her know someones about to enter. When you opened the door you saw her laying in her bed, already changed. She didn't look up to the door. You stayed silent and made your way to the bed, laying next to her. Her eyes were closed but you knew she didn't sleep. You lead her head to your chest and running a hand through her hair. You know doing this will alsways help.

"I love you" She whispered and you smiled. "And it's not your fault that you didn't play today. The columbians played very dirty. I'm just happy you're okay and it's nothing serious" She added her eyes still closed enjoying the moment.

You opened your mout to say anything but Sydney already talked again knowing what you were about to say. "Don't. Do not find the guilt now by yourself, Liebling" Sydney said leaving no room for an argument. You just sighed and closed your eyes too. Trying to find some sleep.

"And by the way you didn't say 'I love you too'" Sydney mumbled into your neck.

A chuckle left your lips. "I love you too"

With that both of you trying to find some sleep in each others arms.

#woso x reader #sydney lohmann x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso #dfb frauen #dfb team #sydney lohmann #fcb frauen #fc bayern frauen

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meyhew · 8 days

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just. you know. neil and jean 😵‍💫 as funny and jaw dropping as it is for the reader, i can’t imagine how satisfying it must be for neil to call a hit on grayson. first he was just too late to protect andrew from drake in columbia and then he tried so so so hard to keep andrew safe at easthaven, suffered so much abuse for it, and still it wasn’t enough. then he finds out about jean, about the sexual violence this boy has been subject to, and doesn’t waste a second wondering whether he should or shouldn’t, can or can’t, do something to stop it. he just does. i wonder how often he thinks about what else he could have done to shield andrew in a similar way, had he not been paranoid about being found out. i wonder if jean will think about this at all, if he’ll agonize over his role in neil’s abuse at the nest or if he’s still too fucked in the head to realize that sincere apologies do go a long way (not that neil is looking for one, in the same way jean isn’t looking for an apology from kevin or lucas). just…. the intertwining of neil and jean and kevin and andrew’s trauma, and the role they all play in making it worse And helping to break the cycle. smth smth giving ppl one more chance than everyone else has given them

#smth smth perfect court blah blah im SICK!!!!!#jean moreau #neil josten #the sunshine court #all for the game #tsc #aftg #this isn’t like. coherent. but u get it i know u get it we all read the same books #seedpost

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peterman-spideyparker · 10 months

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Horses and Zebras (College!Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: I wrote this a bit ago with the intention of having this be smutty, but what I was coming up with just didn’t feel right, so I pivoted and turned it into this. I wanted to use a gif of college Matt but this one popped up, and I will never not use a gif of Tristan Thorn if given the chance and I’m also sorry for the sucky title. It might have a second part, but that’s TBD. Enjoy! :)

Summary: You’re in the medical program at Columbia, but you have some space in your schedule to take an elective, so you opt for a health policy and law class. What you don’t expect is meeting a handsome, blind law student.

Warnings: Fluff, flirting, medical jargon, angst (mentions of death, medical diseases), swearing

Other Characters: Foggy Nelson

Word Count: 2,184

“Is this seat taken?” you hear a smooth, deep voice ask to your right as you take out your notebook and pencil case.

“It’s up for grabs,” you say with a smile as you turn to look at the asker. You feel your cheeks burn hot when you see the handsome man with brown hair, navy sweater, and sunglasses standing with a soft smile. He shifts the cane in his hands as he puts his bag down and begins unpacking his things. “I’m (Y/N), by the way.”

“Matt,” he returns as he settles. “Are you a 2L or a 3L?”

“I’m actually a med student—year and a half left.”

His thick eyebrows scrunch and his lips turn into a confused frown. “They’re letting a med student take a law class?”

“Well, it’s a health law and policy class. I’ve taken some summer courses to get ahead, and my advisor vouched for me. I figured if I’m going to be a doctor, I should try to help them and advocate for them as much as I can. Even if I know a little of it, I hope it would be a big help for some patients.”

“Wow,” he says softly. “You don’t really meet people that think like that.”

“Tell me about it. There’s this guy in my class, right? Stephen. He’s thinks he’s a real hot-shot surgical godsend, when really he’s just an egomaniac that always has to be the one holding the knife.”

“Sounds like a real dick,” he says with a sympathetic pout.

“There’s always people like that in any profession, I guess. Any people like that come to mind in the law program? Or am I talking to one?”

“I guess it depends on who you ask.”

“Mm,” you hum with a little smirk. “Sounds like a yes for the second to me.”

Matt smiles and licks his lips. It looks like he is just about to say something else when the professor walks in with her briefcase.

“Good morning and welcome to Intro to Health Law Advocacy. Now, we will be starting with medical ethics, and from there, segue into medical malpractice—which is slightly askew from the way it’s organized in the book. If you’ll open your textbooks to chapter eight . . .”

“How are you not worried about this exam?” Matt asks, flipping through his notes on his bed, taking off his glasses and putting them to the side, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Well, so far, I’m already familiar with these things,” you sigh as you turn on the chair at his desk. “We covered them the first or second year of the med program. I really haven’t learned anything new that will help me as a doctor. This class isn’t what I thought it would be, and I’m starting to think that’s why they let a med student take a law class.”

“So, what exactly are you studying right now, then?”

“Advanced abdominal and reproductive anatomy and diseases.”

“Ew,” he grimaces.

“Eh, it’s not bad. Some of my friends and I have done the ‘What’s my disease?’ game with all the symptoms and stuff, it’s just making sure I get these muscles right.”

“How can I help?”

You lightly scoff. “Matthew, are you trying to get out of studying?”

“I would never,” he says in mock offense, a wry smirk almost immediately pulling at his lips.

“It’s good you’re practicing your lying now,” you laugh as you move to make a highlight in your notes. “You really wouldn’t want something that bad presented in court.”

“Seriously, though,” he offers after he stops laughing. “I need a bit of a study break, honestly. How can I help you?”

“You could always just sit there and tell me how pretty I am.”

“(Y/N).”

“Matt, I appreciate it, but I don’t know if you can. Unless you want to be a live model, that is.”

“How so?”

You sigh, regretting even having brought it up. “It’s one thing to read it and look at diagrams, but it’s another thing to actually do it on a person.”

“Okay. So,” Matt draws out, putting a tab in his book. “I could lie down, and you’d poke and prod and tell me what you’d feel if I was a patient with one of the things in your book?”

“Yeah, I guess. Would you be comfortable with that?”

Matt nods. “I need a break from these laws—my fingers can’t take it anymore.”

“Alright, then.”

You know to do this, Matt would have to take his shirt off, but you’re not quite prepared for when he does. You can tell that Matt is in shape just by looking at him, but seeing how sculpted he is, the defined dips and curves of his muscles on his taut and smooth skin, you’re not prepared for how your mouth waters. Laying down on the twin bed, he lifts his arms, folding his hands behind his head, resting all nonchalantly with a cocky smirk on his lips.

“You alright there, doctor?” he asks, shifting ever so slightly and making his muscles flex.

“I’m not a doctor yet, Matty,” you tell him, grabbing your notes before you get up.

“You don’t need those.”

“How do you expect me to tell you which uncommon disease that you fictionally have when I poke you in certain places? It’s not like you know the symptoms.”

“You use your memory, sweetheart, that’s how.”

Your cheeks burn hot at the nickname, but it’s enough to convince you to put down your notes.

“Okay,” you start, moving forward as you retie your ponytail. “Let me start with something easy just to get going. Appendicitis. Appendix becomes inflamed from infection and fills with pus. Pain is caused in the lower right abdomen, usually starting right around here.” You apply light pressure near his belly button on his rock hard abs. How does he have abs this great? “Pain will lessen the pressure is applied, but will get worse when my fingers get removed.” I mimic my motion with my words.

“Ow, it hurts really bad,” Matt adds for effect with a pout, making you giggle. “Doc, you gotta help me.”

“Well, you don’t have a fever,” you play along, feeling his forehead with the back of your hand. “Not nauseous, either. Could just be gas. But, if you do later on, it hurts when you cough, walk, or laugh, and the pain shifts here and your abdomen becomes rigid—,” you continue, moving your fingers lower, “—that’s then we have an issue. An ultrasound will confirm it’s an appendicitis.”

“Easy enough.” Matt’s tone is cool, but the blush on his chest, neck, and cheeks say otherwise. “What’s one of the rarer ones?”

“Well, that’d be something like Hirschsprung’s disease. It’s when there’s a lack of nerve cell bodies in part of the bowel. People are born with it, but it might not develop until later in life. Pain can present anywhere.”

“Well, that doesn’t make diagnosis sound easy.”

“It’s not as common. One of the first things you’re told is to look for horses not zebras; what someone might thinks is uncommon is actually something common presenting differently.”

“Then what happens when it’s actually uncommon?”

“People end up going to multiple doctors,” you sigh. “Or, they realize it’s uncommon when it’s too late. And the sad thing is, it happens—it happens a lot more to female patients than male patients because . . . fuck, I don’t know, people think women are weak.”

“You sound like you’re talking from experience.”

“Cuz I am.” You sit down on the edge of the mattress, your shoulders slumping forward as you hang your head. “One of my closest friends in high school, she was so incredibly fit and healthy, but she hadn’t been feeling right. One doctor said it was the flu, a physician’s assistant said it was PMS, another said it might be something carcinogenic. Then one day our senior year when she was at home, she just collapsed. After a week, they figured out it was a neurological disease. It ran in her family, but it hadn’t manifested in anyone. And by the end of that week, she was gone.”

“(Y/N), I’m so sorry,” Matt says softly, sitting up and putting his hand on yours.

“I’m so afraid of turning into one of those doctors,” you breathe quietly. “I don’t want to worry anyone for no reason, to put them through unnecessary tests that insurance might not cover and they might not be able to afford. But I’m so worried that one day, I’m just going to convince myself that one of those zebras is a horse, and then someone else will lose their best friend.”

“We haven’t known each other for long, but I like to think that in the semester I’ve known you, I’ve gotten to know you well. So I know that when you become a doctor, you will treat every one of your patients with respect, kindness, and compassion. You’ll listen to them and their concerns, and do the absolute best to give them the care they need. If you think there’s a zebra in the room, I know you’ll trust your gut and approach it in the right way. It’s not gonna be easy, and it won’t be without its difficult times, but I have every last faith in you and your abilities.”

“I don’t think you know how much that means to me to hear,” you admit, your voice thick with emotion. “You really are going to be a great lawyer, Matt. And I’m not just saying that. A lot of the same nice things you just said about me apply to you, though. You’re kind, compassionate, and you just want to help. There’s nothing more admirable than that.”

You feel electricity move across your skin when he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. Your noses touch before you tilt your heads to the side so they slot better together, your lips millimeters apart before the door to his dorm opens.

“Guess who just got a date with Marci!” Foggy cheers triumphantly as he comes into the room, stuttering to a halt when he registers how you and Matt slide away from one another. “Sorry, I di—.”

“No—,” you start.

“Fog, we—,” Matt says over you.

“I should get going, anyways,” you say as you stand to gather your things. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow, Matt.”

“I’ll see you,” he says softly. “Text me when you get back to your dorm safe.”

“Will do. Night.”

As soon as you close the door to their room, you can immediately hear Foggy start profusely apologizing.

“Dude, I didn’t know! I’m so sorry—,” he starts.

“Fog, keep your voice down!” Matt hushes him urgently. “She can hear you!”

“She’s probably all the way down the hall at this point. Is that the hot med student you’ve been telling me about?”

“Fog—!”

“Don’t pull that ‘How would I know they’re hot’ shit—you always find the prettiest girls and ensnare them in your Murdock charm.”

You can’t help but giggle as you walk down the hall and start back to your place. So . . . Matt has talked about you to Foggy. You guess you can tick that off of your curiosity list. You wonder what exactly he’s told his best friend about. You’re so lost in thought and reliant on muscle memory that you don’t realize you’re back in your place until you slump your bag off your shoulders and it hits the floor. Pulling out your phone, you lean against the door and begin to text Matt.

“Your hot med student friend is safe in her dorm,” you type, grinning like an idiot as you bite your lip.

It takes him a little bit to respond.

“I’m glad,” he says with a little smiley face emoji. Another text bubbles before it disappears, reappears, and I have a new text on my screen. “I’m sorry for what Foggy said.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“So you did hear it. Eavesdropper ;).”

“I heard enough of it.”

You grow nervous when he doesn’t text back right away. In an effort to shake off the discomfort at the potential crater you might just have carved into your friendship, you change into your pajamas and grab what you need to start studying for you other classes. Just as you get in the right study spot, your phone buzzes to life with a text.

“You’re not mad?” it reads.

“At you? Impossible.” Your finger hovers over the send button, wondering if it would push the envelope too much for the night, but then you remember the initial text you sent over, getting enough courage to click down on the blue circle with the arrow. “If you need me for anything, I’m just a text away.”

“Good to know. There’s no way I’m making it through this without you.”

Does . . . Does he mean the test? The class? He is too flirty for his own good. But you know one thing for sure: you have a big, fat, undeniable crush on Matt Murdock.

Permanent Taglist: @majesticavenger @steampowerednightvaler @themusingsofmany @just-the-hiddles @toozmanykids @dangertoozmanykids101 @clints-worldavengers @theburningbookshop @itwasthereaminuteago @peter1ismybrother@hellskitchens-whore @dpaccione @catnip987

#matt mrudock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #college!matt murdock #college!matt murdock x reader #college!matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x reader fluff #college!matt murdock x fem!reader fluff #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock fanfiction #daredevil #daredevil x reader #daredevil fluff #daredevil x fem!reader #daredevil disney+#daredevil netflix

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pedroshotwifey · 4 months

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Pickled Peña Challenge 2023

Good Impression

Pairing: Husband!Javier P. x GN!reader

Word count: 1.2k

Tags/Warnings: Nothing really, fluff, lil bit of angst (silly angst tho), reader and Javi have a dog, Chucho being hella cool, kissing, cussing, vivid descriptions of fried pickles, wifey being actually stupid

Summary: You really wanted to bring something for Chucho's new year's party...

A/N: Hey, y'all! This is my contribution to @goodwithcheese's Pickled Peña Resolutions Writing Challenge! It's kind of stupid but it's what I've got lmao. I can't wait to read everyone else's Peña stories (please feel free to tag me in them)! Unfamiliar with this challenge? Read more about it here! @pickled-pena

*****

“Shit!”

You curse as you watch a pickle slice splat wetly onto the kitchen floor, jumping back to avoid it landing on your bare foot. Max, your golden lab (who was oh-so-creatively named by your husband) is quick to clean it up not a second after it falls.

“Goddammit, Max,” you scold as you watch him scarf it down without shame. “That’s your fifth pickle today.”

Hell, it might be the sixth. You usually aren’t a super messy cook, but it’s a different story when you’re in a time crunch. You need to leave the house in about an hour, and the fried pickles you promised to bring for Chucho’s new year’s party are only half done.

Javier walks in then, chuckling slightly at the interaction he just witnessed. You give him a pointed look before getting back to the task at hand, smothering pickle slices in the flour mixture you had made up.

“Oh, come on now, sweetheart,” Javi says as he walks up behind you to glide his arms around your waist. “Don’t be like that, we have plenty of time.”

You roll your eyes and half-heartedly shove him off of you as you dip the first batch into the oil on the stove.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Javi, I still have to fry every single one of these slices, and then let them dry and cool before we can leave. Plus, I still need to change my clothes, and we have to pick up a gift for Chucho on our way there.”

Javi presses a kiss to the top of your head, humming in response to your explanation.

“I think we’ll be okay. Chucho isn’t going to mind if we’re a little late.”

“I know,” you whine. “But I still hate not being–”

“I promise you, baby. As long as I show up with ‘that pretty partner of mine’, there’s not going to be an issue.” He pinches your hip lightly as he quotes his father’s words from a few days earlier.

You can’t help the faint smile that crawls across your face at that reminder. You had been so worried about Javier’s family not liking you, but it turns out that they adore you just as much as he does, just from what he’s said about you. It’s nice to know you’ll be welcomed so warmly even though they had never met you previously.

The two of you had met in columbia by chance, hooked up, and things spiraled from there. As much as he tried, Javi just couldn’t tear himself away from you. A year later, the two of you were married, and a year after that, you both moved back to Javi’s hometown in Texas, where you’re now, finally, about to meet everyone you had heard so much about.

You had told Javi that it’s your new year’s resolution to make a good impression, but you doubt that’s going to be very hard. You’ve already made a good impression in their book just by marrying the man.

“How about you go ahead and get changed, and I’ll do what I can here?” Javi suggests.

You scoop out your pickles and lay them on a rack to dry before turning around and planting a kiss on Javi’s cheek.

“Thank you, baby. That would help a lot.”

“No problema, mi vida.”

He grabs your wrist to pull you in to press his lips against yours. You smile against him before pulling back and planting a final, light kiss on his lips.

“Okay, I’ll be right back,” you tell him as you back out of the doorway.

***

It doesn’t take too long for you to get dressed. Javi is just finishing the pickles as you walk back into the kitchen.

“Should be all set,” he says as he wipes his hands down with a paper towel. You lean on your toes to kiss him again.

The two of you have everything cleaned and packed up within another few minutes. You glance at the clock, which tells you that you should be right on time by the time you’re walking out the door. You grab the container of pickles to take with you to the hall table by the front door.

Javi mumbles something from behind you and then walks into your room, patting his pockets as he goes. You almost laugh under your breath at his forgetfulness until you realize you left your keys in the bathroom.

You place the container down and walk down the hall, not noticing how precariously balanced the tub is left. You snatch your keys up at the same time you hear a crash. You gasp at the sound of what can only be a plastic lid breaking off to spill your hard work all over the floor.

Your fears are confirmed as you quickly make your way back to where you left them, only to find Javi hovering over the mess. When looks up and immediately catches your stunned expression, his entire body freezing as he does so.

“Baby,” he starts slowly. I swear it wasn’t–”

“Javier. F. Peña,” you seethe, each name spat out as its own individual sentence. “You did not just knock that down,” you almost dare him to contradict you. There’s absolutely no way for you to make another batch right now. You don’t have the time nor the ingredients.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Javi retorts defensively, holding up his hands as he takes a step toward you. “What makes you so sure that it was me? I thought it was you until I got out here!”

“Me?” you gawk at him, offended. “Unlike some other people I know, I’m not that fucking clumsy!”

“Woah, you stand there and accuse me, but where were you at the time?”

Just then, Max slinks into the hall, drawing both of your attention to his guilty movements. His tail wags hesitantly behind him, his head ducked. The fact that he’s not all over those damn pickles tells you all that you need to know. You sigh in frustration, pinching the bridge of your nose.

You look back up at Javi, and you can’t miss the glint of amusement in his eye. A smile peaks out as you lean down to Max’s level. You don’t scold him, instead gently grabbing his collar to lead him to your room before shutting the door so you can clean the mess without interruption.

Javi’s already on it, sweeping everything into a dustpan. You lean against the wall as he finishes up.

“Guess we’re going to have to stop by that burger joint in town,” you say, sighing again. Javi watches you, sending you a sympathetic smile. He knows how much you wanted to bring something homemade, how much it meant to have something to offer, no matter how small.

“I’m sorry sweetheart. Maybe next time we can invite Chucho over for dinner next week, make up a big meal for him.”

You smile back at him. He always knows what to say. He walks into the kitchen to dispose of the contents in the dustpan, and you to your room to release Max before rejoining each other in the hall.

“Ready to go, my little chef?”

You roll your eyes at him with feigned annoyance as you take his hand.

“Let’s go, Peña.”

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otdiaftg · 4 months

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The King's Men - Chapter Three

Day: Thursday, January 4th Time: 7:40 PM EST

Wymack pounded on the wall, calling a pause to the scrimmage, as Neil headed for the door. Neil let himself onto the court and headed for the goal. Andrew slung his racquet across his shoulders at Neil's approach. Neil knew better than to call Andrew out with an audience, so he stopped as close to Andrew as he could and kept his voice down. "Coach wants to know what you have against the offense line." Andrew slid a look past Neil to the court wall. "He can ask me himself." "Or you can answer me since I'm already here," Neil said. "There are only nine of us left. If we lose anyone else we're out of spring championships. You know that." Neil waited a beat, but of course that wasn't enough to get a reaction. Andrew looked bored of this conversation already. Neil put a hand up in front of Andrew's face, neatly blocking his view of Wymack, and waited until Andrew looked at him again. "I want us to get to finals. I want us to be the ones who finally bring the Ravens down. After everything Riko's done to us, don't you want that, too?" "You say 'want' so freely," Andrew said, "when I have told you a thousand times before I want nothing." "Probably because you're spending all your energy on not wanting anything," Neil shot back. "But if you can't grasp that simple concept, I'll put this in terms you do understand: this is a game we can't afford to lose. This is how we get to Riko. This is the only thing we can take from him that will actually hurt. Let's rip his rank out of his fingers and show him he had a reason to fear us all along." "Do your teammates still think you're the quiet one?" Andrew asked. "Our teammates," Neil said, with emphasis, "want this as much as I do. Stop cutting them off at the knees before they have the chance to try." "I don't believe in giving people chances." "I didn't until I came here," Neil said. "I took a chance on you when I decided to stay. You took a chance on me when you trusted me with Kevin. Is it really that hard to support them when they've been with you every step of the way?" "What will you give me in exchange for my cooperation?" Andrew asked. "Because revenge isn't good enough?" Neil asked. "What would it take?" Andrew didn't have to think about it. "Show me your scars." It was not what Neil was expecting, which was probably why Andrew asked for it. Neil opened his mouth to protest, but the words died in his throat. Wymack and Abby had already seen them, and the Foxes knew they were there. He'd put Andrew's hand to his ruined skin back in November to earn Andrew's trust. Neil had promised Andrew the missing parts of his truth if they survived the year. He hadn't thought Andrew would settle for a visual. "When?" he said at last. "We are going to Columbia tomorrow," Andrew said. "Now walk away and tell Coach to mind his pay grade. I will not let him get away with this a second time." Neil didn't understand, but he nodded and left.

Art used with permission by llstarvasterll. Thank you @llstarcasterll !

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jeremy-knoxs-on-wood · 3 months

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A short study on Aaron Minyard.

(Bless you @eeriethacus for the ideas and encouragement)

He could have blamed Andrew for everything.

For what had happened to him. For Tilda. For how he felt after all these years.

After seeing how the other Foxes got on with their lives. How they formed relationships, hell even Dan found a father in Wymack.

But Aaron, oh Aaron.

Aaron begged and pleaded with himself to find normalcy, to be good. To be wanted by someone and not be discarded by morning, either by the girl he shared a bed with that night or by himself as disgust and a need to wash it all away came over him.

He blamed it on his classes, on being too stressed and needing to seek out a new stress reliever now that Andrew had forced his hand cleaned.

He couldn't help the sick that came over him, remembering his pitiful form on the bathroom floor, begging, pleading, wanting to be let out and held. Crying out for Andrew to forgive him and for Tilda, despite never having received warmth from her to begin with.

It was a funny thing, Aaron wanting a mother's love when he didn't know what it felt like in the first place. Wanting a woman's love. Wanting the warmth he saw other's received. Watching and living vicariously through the couples that roamed Palmetto campus, or how the danced together in the clubs. How someone, anyone, everyone went home with someone. Everyone but him.

He had tried, bless him he did. He had tried with the flirting, the flowers, the small gifts, the dates. Asking even Matt for advice one time, turning to Allison to find out what women liked and why it wasn't him.

His problem spiraled soon enough, from his first year to his second. He had gone from seeking out someone to date, to hold, to love. To fill whatever he was missing. He had turned to hookups, one night stands.

The touch soothed his aches, lost between the legs of faces that blurred together over the months, searching and craving to be satisfied, but it was more than that. There was something wrong with him.

At least thats what he told himself, and tried to ignore. Ignore how Tilda had pushed boundaries that weren't sexual, but made him throw any care of himself out of the window, unable to say no to a pretty face that spille silky words from their mouth's, Eve drawing Adam to the apple.

Unable to tell them no when he found himself in a new bed and slowly Andrew's warning were being headed and understood.

He couldn't help it, not until red hair came flashing across his vision. She was sweet. A cheerleader transfer. She didn't seem all too interested in him though, as the other had been, but he knew that when he was told no to an offer, to back off.

He watched from afar as she mingled with the right crowd, one Aaron couldn't think to ever find himself in. Watched as she was pined and sought after. As if she was a prize, or a piece of meat laid at the feet of baying dogs. Most men were if given the chance.

Aaron didn't think himself much different, even if his motives were kinder, even though he kept to himself after she said no and sought after what he knew in ofher places, was he not still like those men whistling and calling her name as she walked past?

It wasn't until he was in the library, studying for exams before Columbia when she approached, sitting across from him and asking for help with her studies. That she heard he was great in the curriculum, one of the bests. He hadn't known what to do then other than dumbly nod his head and do as she asked.

Soon the study sessions turned into hangouts, always at hers never at his. And the hangouts turned into dates. He was waiting for the shoe to drop, for her to lash out or get bored of this game that he so eagerly wanted to play a part of.

She didn't though. She stayed. She stayed after Andrew confronted her, after he told her he wasn't what she truly wanted. A part of him hoped that if he scared her off enough, the brutality of another gap would sting a little less. It only confused him more when she stayed.

#aaron minyard #all for the game #aftg #andrew minyard #twinyards

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mccn-bcys · 6 months

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First Date - Javier Peña

pairing: javier peña x fem!reader summary: connie has a new friend in Columbia and she sets her and javi up on blind date. javi gets nervous, but over dinner he finds that he really likes her and wants to see her again. warning: nervous javi, this is my first fic since my break so please go easy on me. author's note: I know this fic was supposed to go out in february but I've been in a bit of a rut for a while but I've missed writing so I wanted to start trying to get these feb stories out. I really hope you all enjoy it!

To say that Javier Pena was nervous was an understatement. He was many things right now.

“A fuckin’ mess is what I am,” he bitterly says as he looks over his outfit in the mirror. It’s the fifth outfit he has tried on and he still doesn’t think it looks good. Why did his clothes suddenly not look good on him? He practically rips his clothes off himself as he heads back to the closet to find something else.

How did he even get here in the first place?

Oh, that’s right. Steve fucking Murphy. Well, his wife, really, but still. Connie had decided to try and play matchmaker with Javier and her friend that was new in town. And before Javier could say “no”, Connie had already set up the blind date.

He didn’t really want to do this. It’d been a long time since he’d been on a date. But he couldn’t help but feel nervous, a bit excited. For some reason, he wanted to make a good first impression, even if it never went past this first date.

Connie had said that the girl was nice, sweet. Why the hell Connie thought that a girl like that would be good for Javier, he had no idea. His life was too dark, dangerous, unexpecting. A girl as sweet, as kind, as good as you didn’t really seem to fit into his life. But a strange, demented part of him wanted to give it a shot. To see if there really was a chance for him to love again.

After what happened with Lorraine, he didn’t think he deserved love, not real love. The last time he had a chance for love, for happiness and sharing it with another person, he had fucked it up. He had left a woman at the altar. What kind of man does that? He doesn’t deserve another chance at love.

But here he was, trying anyways. He shrugs on this new shirt he’s pulled from the closet, deciding that it will just have to do as he finishes getting ready quickly. He grabs stuff and hops in his car and drives to the restaurant that Steve told him to meet at. Javi sits in his car for a moment, just calming himself. This is fine, he tells himself. It’s just a first date, nothing serious has to come from it. He’s gone on plenty of dates before. He can do this. Taking a final deep breath, he climbs out of his car and makes his way inside.

When he gets inside, he expects to learn that he is the first to arrive, but as he’s escorted to the table, he learns that you had beaten him there. He stops a few feet away, taking a second to look at you as you sit, fiddling with your napkin.

You’re beautiful, he thinks. You dressed up a lot nicer than he had, not that that mattered; he was sure you looked just as beautiful in a T-shirt and sweats. Fuck, now he just has to not make a fool of himself. Should be easy, right?

“Javier?” Nope, this would not be easy. Not if you kept saying his name like that.

“Yeah, hey,” he says, approaching the table cautiously. You smile, standing up and reaching out your hand to him. He looks at it for a moment before realizing you mean to shake his. Jesus Christ, Pena, at least try to act like you’ve interacted with people before. He meets your hand with his and gives it a small shake. God, your hand was so small in his.

“Hey,” you say softly, introducing yourself, keeping your hand in his for a moment, perhaps a moment longer than necessary. He repeats your name quietly, testing how it sounds rolling off his tongue. Obviously, you like how it sounds because your smile grows. “I went ahead and ordered some wine, I hope you don’t mind,” you say shyly as you take your hand back and sit down.

“Not at all. I hope you haven’t been waiting long.” He’d kick himself if you’d been here awhile by yourself.

“Oh, I only got here a few minutes ago. They just asked if I wanted anything and I was scared if I said I was waiting for someone, they’d assume I was going to get stood up or something,” you chuckle nervously, brushing your hair behind your ear. For a brief moment, he wonders if your hair feels as soft as it looks.

“If I’m honest, I almost did. Stand you up, I mean,” he admits almost shamefully.

“If I’m honest, I almost did, too,” you say in return shyly. His eyebrows furrow a little. He hadn’t been expecting that.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I was so close to turning my car around on my way here a couple of times.”

“Why?” he asks, as if he hadn’t almost done the same.

“I don’t really do blind dates. They freak me out,” you say, laughing a little. Javi can’t help but laugh too as the sound of yours is melodic and contagious.

“They freak you out?”

“Mhm. I could be set up with a murder or something. The person could be a psycho and I’d have no idea because I wouldn’t know who it is before I got here,” you explain. “Also, if you don’t know who you’re meeting, how’re you supposed to know if the other person got there or not. If Connie hadn’t put the reservation under Steve’s name, I probably wouldn’t have known if you’d gotten here or not,” you add on, before flushing as you realize you’re rambling a bit.

“Sorry, I tend to ramble when I get nervous,” you say softly, fiddling with your napkin again.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s cute,” Javi smiles at you, making your cheeks hot. “But you’re right. I don’t think I would’ve known I was supposed to meet you if they hadn’t made the reservation.”

“Well, I suppose we have at least that to thank them for,” you shrug with a soft chuckle. “Perhaps if this goes well, we’ll have more to thank them for.”

After that, the date flies by. You two laugh, talk, laugh some more and just get to know one another. Javi realizes he opened up to you more than he usually does with dates. You’re just so easy to talk to. And before he wants to, he finds himself walking you back to your car.

His hands are stuffed in his pockets as you stand in front of him, softly biting you lip – which drives him crazy – trying to find anything else to talk about to extend this date as much as you can. And when you do run out of ways to stall, you both just stare at each other before Javier finds himself asking: “Can I kiss you?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” you smile, a gesture that returns, relieved to hear your answer in the positive.

Stepping in, he softly cups your cheek, looking down at you for a moment before he finally leans in, his lips meeting yours. You both swear the world stops spinning as your lips seem to fit together so perfectly. He can taste the wine on your lips, getting intoxicated by the taste of you mixed with the drink. He could kiss you all night. But you both need air and eventually have to pull away to breathe, foreheads pressing together as you catch your breath.

“Can I see you again?” Javi asks quietly, surprising himself.

“Absolutely,” you answer, making him smile wide, leaning in to kiss you again. When you pull away, the two of you exchange phone numbers, promising to call when you’ve made it home to talk about setting up another date, hopefully soon.

He sees you into your car, making sure you drive off safely before going back to his car, a goofy little grin on his lips as he sits behind the wheel. He hasn’t felt these butterflies in his belly since … ever. Maybe Connie knew what she was doing after all.

The whole drive home, Javi can only find himself thinking about you and your date and your future dates. And when he gets inside, he heads straight to the phone, catching the voicemail that you’d made it home. He’ll call you back in just a moment, knowing there’s another phone call he needs to make first. He dials the number, waiting as it rings until he hears the “Peña?”

“Tell your wife I said thanks.”

______________________________________________________________

taglist: @gardenof-venus @fandomtrash465 @ichigodjarin @bladeshades @pinkpenwuin @sm3rqld-o @simplecol18 @sleepyamaya @wordacadabra @sm8th0p @firesidefandoms @missmarmaladeth @stevenandmarcslove @avengersinitiative2012 @cleothegoldfish @lunaleah @winxschester @shadowmoonnight @undermoonlightwalk @ahookedheroespureheart @phan3145 @local-mr-frog @theconsultingdoctor10 @luvpedropascal @violet-19999 @an0th3rsss @iamcoolguy @disregardedplant @fruitymoonbeams-blog @xcraftystormx @marisferasiop @bensolosbluesaber @rellasnowheenim @quethekillerqueen @jake-g-lockley @whydidigetalibralartsdegree @moonknightwifey @spacecowboyhotch @howaboutcastiel @princessloveweird @minigirl87 @midgardian-witch @aleat0ri0 @leahnicole1219 @acciocriativity @missxlause @yeah3459 @groovycass @kotonei-molyneux @marc-spectorr @toracainz

#javier pena fic #javier pena narcos #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal #javi pena #javi p x reader

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onmysluttyknees · 9 days

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Can’t Get Over You

Pairing: Peña x reader.

Rating: E 18+ (minors dni). This is for mature audience only! By continuing reading you agree that you are over 18.

Words: about 7k.

—

“Can we please not do this now? I need to go,” he says, looking at me. The mask of indifference is back in place as he pulls his jeans back on. I thought we had moved past this. But apparently not. What I want and what he expects are not the same.

”I just want to know what I am to you!” I raise my voice louder than I intend to, but it’s so damn frustrating. He wants me, but he doesn’t want to commit to me.

“Don’t do this now; I’m running late.” He huffs, and he pulls his clothes back on. I feel so used. He wants a warm body to fuck when he feels like it. And I want more. I can’t do this anymore.

“You know what, PeÃ±a? Let’s not do this ever again. I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.” I sigh, get out of bed, and start pulling my clothes on. I keep my body away from him as I do so. If I look at him, I’ll give in, like I always do.

“I thought we were on the same page about what this was, were we not?” He asks, and I hear him moving closer to me, but I don’t turn around.

“And I thought that I meant more to you than just a good fuck whenever you’re in the mood. But I suppose we both were wrong.” I walk into the bathroom and slam the door behind me, locking it to keep him out. I want so much more than what he’s willing to give me. I get that he has a lot on his plate. After coming back from Columbia and taking on the job as the sheriff in Laredo, a lot of people expect him to clean up the town and get the drugs out of here. But when he came back alive, all I could think was that maybe this was our chance at a second chance together.

We had been together when we were younger, before he left for Colombia, and I understood that when he left, what we had was over. I wasn’t going to sit around and wait for him while he went down there, since neither of us knew when he would be back.

But that didn’t stop me from hoping and wishing that he would come back one day, and maybe we could pick up where we left off. How silly of me to think that what we once had meant more to him than what it does now. I was still just a warm body for him to sink his cock into whenever he needed to blow off some steam. And frankly, I’m over it.

A soft knock on the door pulls me from my thoughts.

“Nenita, please don’t be like this. What we have is good, right? Why do we need to make it into something it isn’t?” His voice is like butter on toast. It’s hard to resist him when he’s like that, but I deserve more. I want more from him, but if he isn't willing to give it to me, then I can’t give him more from me. I need to protect myself before I give him more than I already have.

“Just go, Peña; I can’t do this anymore. Please just go.” My voice breaks at the end. I try my best to keep myself together. He can’t see me when he’s on the other side of the door, but I know he can hear me.

“I’m sorry, nenita." That’s the last thing I hear from him before I hear the front door open and then close. He’s gone. Again. Only this time, I will still see him around town. Fuck!

4 months later.

With a glass of rosé wine in my left hand and the music playing loudly, I’m looking through my closet, trying to decide what to wear for my date tonight.

I’m not even sure I should go. I’m still not over Javier, but they say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. And since nothing else seems to have worked in the past 4 months, why not try going on a date?

Nick is cute; he’s kind, and he’s been asking me out for a date several times over the years. So here I am, getting ready for a date. With Nick.

My hand drifts over a white sundress with sunflowers on it. I used to wear this dress all the time. It was one of my favourites, and sadly, one of Javier’s too.

“I love the way this dress hugs you, ass, and your titts,” he whispered into my ear, his lips gently grazing down my neck.

“Stop it, Javi; we need to go or we’re going to be late for our reservation at ‘Hal’s’.” I tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but not much effort was put into it since I didn’t really want to step away from his warm body. He pressed his front against my back with more force, making it very clear exactly how much he liked the dress. I could feel him through his jeans as his cock pressed against my ass. A soft moan escaped my lips as he pressed himself into me again, harder this time.

“Are you sure you want me to stop querida?” His teeth scraped gently along the shell of my ear, and his hands gripped my hips tighter as he let out a low groan of pleasure as I rubbed my ass against his growing erection once again. “I say we skip dinner and go straight to dessert instead.”

We never made it to the restaurant that night. Now that I think of it, we hardly ever went anywhere; we were always at his place or mine. I didn't mind because I got to have him all to myself without the other women of the town ogling him, but now, in hindsight, it feels like he didn’t want to be seen with me. Not that that mattered; in a small town like Laredo, everybody knows everything anyway. And people knew, just like they knew the moment we stopped seeing each other. In the first month or two, people would stare, and I would hear them whisper about me when they didn’t know I was in the next aisle, or perhaps they knew and wanted me to hear?

It was always the same comment: “Perhaps he got bored of her." “A man like that can’t be tied down; why did she think she would be able to get him to settle down?”. And it hurts. Far more than I care to admit. Because it was all true. In the end, I wasn’t enough for him.

I shake my head as if to try and clear the memory from it. But I’m not an etch-a-sketch, so the image of us in bed that night and all the other times stays burned into my brain as I try my best to get ready for my date with Nick. I down the rest of my wine, and out of spite or defiance, I don’t know, I grab the dress with the sunflowers. It’s just a dress, one of my favorites, so I pull it on. It still fits nicely, though it’s a little looser around my midriff now than it was before, but that is to be expected. I have been exercising more lately and eating better, so I have lost some weight.

Not that I did it because anyone told me that I needed to, but what else was I supposed to do with all my free time when Javier stopped coming around? Correction: When I told him to leave, he actually, for once, listened to me. I had to find something to put all my time and energy into. So I started running. It’s a good distraction. I keep pushing myself further and harder. The burn from running makes the hurt from not being with him a little bit easier to handle. And it usually tires me out pretty good. It keeps me from making dumb decisions like texting him late at night when I’m lonely.

A loud knock on my door startles me just as I put the last touch of lipstick on. I put the cork back on and set down the lipstick, walking over to open the door, putting on a bright smile as I do so.

“Wow, you look beautiful.” Nick looks me up and down before he settles on my face, a big smile on his lips as he hands me a bouquet of flowers. “These are for you.” He says.

“These are beautiful, Nick. Thank you. Let me just put these in water, and then I’m ready to go.” I take the flowers, and he follows me as I walk into the kitchen to find a vase.

After I’ve put the flowers in the water, I look over at Nick to see where he’s standing in the doorway to my kitchen. He cleaned up nice, in a pair of slacks and a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. And he trimmed his beard too; usually it’s a bit more wild, but tonight he has it neatly trimmed short. It suits him better. But for some reason, I can’t help but think about how I prefer a defined moustache over a full beard.

“Are you ready to go?” Nick asks, bringing me back to my kitchen and the man standing in front of me. The man that is not him. But that’s the point; Javier didn’t want more, and I do. So I give Nick a soft smile and nod.

The restaurant is nice, although I wish he hadn’t taken me to Hal’s. But the odds of him coming in here tonight are hopefully low.

We order food and drinks, and we talk about everything and nothing. And just as I am starting to relax and enjoy the date, I feel him. I can tell that he is there before I even see him. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot him over at the bar. He just walked in and is ordering a beer. I know he’s already seen me. The way he looks over at us tells me everything I need to know. And he looks pissed.

I try to concentrate on what Nick is telling me, something that happened this week at his work, but honestly, all I can think of is him. Javier is standing less than 10 feet from me over by the bar, but he might as well be standing next to me. The air in the room is electrified, and with every breath I take, I find it more and more difficult to breathe.

“Will you excuse me for just a second?” I get up from my chair and all but run towards the ladies room, not even bothering to think about the fact that I left Nick hanging in the middle of a sentence about whatever he was talking about. I need to get out of the room and away from Javier.

I lock myself into one of the ladies rooms and grip the sink with both hands so tightly that my knuckles turn white with the effort. My breathing is ragged, and I try my best to slow my racing heart. This is not what I had envisioned for my first night out after Javier and I broke up. Well, to be broken up, one would have to have actually been a couple in the first place, which we never were. He didn’t want anything serious, and I was dumb enough to think that if I stayed around long enough, he would change his mind. That he would want me just the same way I wanted him. Sadly, that never happened.

After several minutes of hiding in the bathroom, I pull myself together enough to stand up straight, run my hands down my dress, and look at myself in the mirror.

“You can do this. He is just a man you once knew. You can do this.” I tell myself the same thing over and over as my breathing evens out and my heart slows back down to somewhat normal. With a final, steadfast breath, I unlock the door and walk out, and straight into someone.

“What the...” I stop myself the moment I look up and my eyes meet his. Dark brown eyes I could drown in, if only he’d let me.

“Querida.” His voice is low and strained. He looks me up and down, widening a little when he sees the dress I have on, before he looks me in the eyes.

“You lost the right to call me that, Peña.” I try to sound strong, but my voice is wavering, and I have to look away from his piercing gaze before I do something stupid. Pushing past him to get away from him, just as I’m almost past him, he grabs a hold of my wrist, stopping me in my tracks.

“Please, don’t walk away,” he pleads, his hand still in a firm grip on my wrist.

“I’m not the one who walked away, remember?” I turn around and yank my hand from his. When my eyes meet his, he looks lost, even sad. But I can’t break. Not here, not now. “You’re the one who didn’t want what I had to offer.” The rage bubbles up; after being pushed down for months, it’s finally breaking free. I’m done blaming myself for what happened. He made me believe we could be more. He’s the one who made me feel like what we had was more than just sex, with his sweet touch, filthy words, and the way he would look at me. He’s the one who would hold me tight, night after night, as we fell asleep next to one another after we had our way with each other in bed.

“I...” He takes a step closer, but I back up. I can’t. I won’t survive him one more time.

“You what, Pña? You don’t want me. Not really—not all of me, at least. You only want me when you can’t have me. Or am I wrong? You haven’t called me in months. But tonight, the first night, I’m actually out with someone else. Now you care? Just leave me alone; I can’t do this again with you. I won’t survive it a third time.” It’s like my words burned him. He backs up a few steps. His eyes meet mine. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but then he closes it again. Just like I thought, nothing has changed. He doesn’t want more, or maybe he isn’t capable of more. It’s only sad that it took me so long to figure it out. Having the man I love break my heart not only once, way back when we were kids, but again four months ago. And in a way, now, all over again, tonight hurts more than I care to admit. But I won’t let him do it again. I can't, and I won’t survive it one more time.

Without saying anything else, I turn and walk away. There is nothing more to say. He doesn’t stop me, either. So if that doesn’t tell me exactly everything I need to know, then I don’t know what will.

I walk back to the table where Nick is still sitting. He looks uncomfortable, shifting slightly in his seat, but doesn’t say anything about how long I was gone or that Javier was gone for a part of that time too. He really is a good guy. And for the rest of the date, I try my best to pay attention to what he says and not look over to my left, where I know Javier is sitting still at the bar, nursing beer after beer. I smile and laugh, and I can almost fool myself into believing that this night isn’t that bad.

The date actually turned out pretty well. When we finished eating, Nick drove me back to my apartment, but I didn't invite him in. I need to do this right this time. So instead, I let him kiss me goodnight. I thanked him for a lovely evening, and when he asked me if I would like to go out with him again, I said yes. And I meant it. I did have a good time.

But the moment I’m alone in my apartment, my mind drifts back to the way he looked at me. Javier, not Nick. Not that the way Nick looked at me was bad. Just the way Javier always looks at me is like a sizzling fire that burns underneath my skin. And the only way to quench the flames is when he has his way with me and pulls orgasm after orgasm from me.

But tonight he looked at me like I was something he had lost, and he wanted it, me, back. But he didn’t do anything or say anything. At least nothing that changes what happened between us or how it ended.

That night, I got little to no sleep. I tossed and turned for half of the night, and the other half I dreamed about the one man I can’t have.

3 months later

I keep running into Javier. Almost on a daily basis, I see him across the street or run into him. I can’t get away from him. I can be in the supermarket, and I turn around, and there he is. Or at the gas station, filling up my car, and there he is. Even when Nick and I go out on dates, he is there. Everywhere I turn, he is always there. Not in a stalker way, though. Not like it's that strange; we live in the same town, but still. It’s unnerving. I’m trying to move on from him, but all I see is him everywhere I go.

It’s late, and I’m getting ready for bed when my phone pings with an incoming text message. So I walk out of my bathroom, one towel wrapped around my body and one towel still in my hand as I’m drying my hair after the shower, when I flip my phone on my bed with the other hand, and I freeze mid-motion.

It’s a text from Javier. I sit down on my bed before I open the text and read it.

I stare at the text. Not knowing what to reply or if I even should reply. I’m with Nick now, right?

Just when I’ve almost convinced myself to not reply and ignore the text altogether, the bubble with the three dots appears, and with anxious breath, I wait for his next text. But nothing appears. No more texts come through. And as I stand there with my hair dripping down onto my bed, my phone dies.

Fuck! I was supposed to have plugged it into the charger when I came home from work, but work had been hectic today, so I forgot. I scramble off my bed as quickly as I can, grab my charger from on top of my dresser, plug it into the socket, and then plug the other end into my phone. It feels like it takes forever for my phone to light up. And who knows how long it takes for it to power back on? Without my damn phone, which is also my clock in my bedroom, I don’t know how many minutes tick by before it actually lights up again.

I open up my phone to see if he has sent any more texts, but no. Only the one from before my phone died. What am I supposed to answer? He misses me? Should I even answer? Before I have any time to think more about it, a loud knock startles me. Looking down at my phone to check the time, 11:43, I highly doubt that it is Nick. We didn’t have plans tonight, and he wouldn’t just stop by unannounced like this, at least not this late. Which meansâ€¦

“Querida, please open the door.” He’s speaking louder than normal, but not quite shouting yet. But I still don’t want my neighbors to get mad. Having someone half-yell in your stairwell isn’t most people's idea of fun at almost midnight on a fucking Thursday night. So I stumble my way to the door and yank it open.

Javier is leaning against the doorframe, looking worse for wear but still hot as fuck. No one should be allowed to look that good when he looks so disheveled and his hair is a mess. Like he has been dragging his fingers through it over and over for hours. His shirt is wrinkled, and his jeans are dirty.

“Javi, you can’t come here like this anymore.” I don’t even realize I used his nickname until he looks up at me with those big brown, sad eyes.

“You called me Javi.” A soft smile spreads across his lips, and that damn dimple appears on his left cheek. He knows how much I love that damn dimple.

“Slip of the tongue, what are you doing here?” I try to redirect the conversation, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to know what he’s doing here. He texted me not that long ago, and now he’s here, at my door, in the middle of the night.

“I’d like to give you my slip of the tongue.” He says it under his breath, with a smirk playing on his lips. He knows I heard him. It’s too quiet around us for me not to have heard him. And his words do things to me. I press my legs together in an attempt to ease the throbbing that's begun to grow. He always had a way with words. He could probably get me off with his words alone. But I can’t let my mind wander too far down the rabbit hole. I need to know why he is here. I don’t say anything about his comment.

I don’t know if I should invite him in or ask him to leave. But I do know that I don’t want to have this conversation in my doorway for any of my neighbours to hear or walk into. So I open the door a little bit more and let him in. He walks past me and straight into my kitchen, where he comes to a stop and casually leans against the kitchen island.

“It’s late; what are you doing here?” I ask again, trying to put some power behind my words.

“Nick isn’t here, I suppose, since you let me in.” He drawls, still with that dimple on his cheek, begging me to touch it, kiss it, and lick it.

“Is that what you came here to talk about, my boyfriend?” I ask, letting a strained laugh out. This is so surreal. My somewhat ex and I are talking about the man I’m currently dating.

“Does he make you happy?”

“What?” I stare at him. I'm wondering where he’s going with this.

“Does. He. Make. You. Happy?” He punctuates each word while simultaneously taking a step towards me with each word. I look around my kitchen, trying to find the words, and maybe even something to look at other than him. His eyes are on fire, and they are burning me with every lingering look. With every caress as he sweeps his eyes over my body, I just realize I’m still in nothing but my towel, and my hair is still damp as water trickles down my back.

“I...he...” I can’t get the words or sentences to form in my mind, let alone get them out of my mouth, when he’s looking at me like that. I am his prey, and he is the hunter. With a final step towards me, he has me between him and the kitchen counter. His hands land on either side of me, effectively caging me in. All I can see is him. All I can smell is him. All I can feel is the heat coming off his body, but that doesn’t stop my skin from breaking out in goosebumps all over. But I doubt it’s because I’m cold. Quite the opposite. I’m burning up, and all I want to do is lean a little bit, close the distance between us, and lock my lips around his.

“I know I said I couldn't give you more. But the thought of not having you at all is killing me. I can’t think, I can’t sleep, and I can’t breathe when I’m not with you. And every time I see you around town, all I want is to walk up to you and kiss you. I feel like you are the reason I made it back from Colombia in one piece, and I will die unless I get to spend the rest of my life with you. I want you. Please tell me it’s not too late.”

“Javi...” I’m stunned. I never expected to get as much from him in words as I just did. I try to think of that to answer him, but no words will come out.

"Words, querida, use your words. I asked you a question.”

“What...what question?” I ask, shaking my head. My mind is a mess from what he just said. He wants me? Why now? What changed?

“Does he make you happy?” His hand softly pushes my damp locks back behind my ear; his fingers move to gently caress my cheek; and I instinctively lean into his touch.

“Not like you do. No one can compare to you.” I confess. There’s no point in lying anymore, to myself or to him. He’s here for a reason. He’s told me as much. He wants me back.

“Please give me one more chance. I'm yours; say you’ll be mine.” His eyes search mine as his hand travels from my cheek down my neck. He can feel my pulse beat rapidly beneath his thumb, where his hand is now on my neck.

Without thinking, I reach up on my tippy toes and kiss him. I shouldn’t be doing this. I know I shouldn't. It’s wrong for so many reasons, but I can’t seem to stop myself. My hands move on their own accord and drape around his neck, pulling him closer to me.

His hands find their way around my waist and pull me in closer. The kiss grows heated, and he drags his tongue along the seam of my lips, asking for entry. I grant it, opening up and letting my tongue slide along his in a battle for dominance. His hands drift lower until they reach the bottom of the towel and slide in under it. Grazing the back of my thighs and up my bare ass.

“Mierda, you’re fucking naked under here?” He asks, his voice strained, before he grabs a firm hold of my ass. He lifts me up and sets me down on the kitchen counter, and in doing so, the towel comes loose, falls down, and pools around my waist. Leaving my breasts on full display. He breaks the kiss to look down at my exposed body. “Fuck querida, you’ll be the death of me.” He growls, unable to stop himself. He leans down and takes one perked nipple into his mouth and sucks on it. Dragging his teeth over it, one hand finds the other and plays with it between his forefinger and thumb, pulling a breathy moan from my lips.

My own moan startles me from what we're doing, and I put my hands up against his chest and push him away. Even though all I want is to pull him closer.

“We can’t, not like this.” I quickly grip the towel and pull it up over my body again as I jump down from the counter.

“You’re right.” He takes a step back but then changes his mind and grabs the back of my head as he pulls me in for another soul-searing kiss. When he finally breaks the kiss, he looks at me dead in the eye with his hand still on the back of my head, not allowing me to look away. “Tell me you’re mine. Tell me you’re mine, and I’ll wait. I’ll give you anything you want; be anything you want; just tell me you’ll be mine.” His chest heaves, and he breathes heavily.

I stare back at him. He’s finally saying all the right things. The only problem is that I have a boyfriend.

“I need to talk to Nick first.” I answer. “But, yes, Javi, I’m yours. I’ve always been yours. Give me a few days to sort through this, and I’ll call you, okay?” I don’t even know how to sort through this mess without someone getting hurt. Sadly, that seems to be Nick in this equation. But I can’t do anything more with Javi until I’ve ended things with Nick; I shouldn’t even have kissed him. We can’t start this time around with something like that. We need to make this right.

“I get it, but can I come over once it’s over with you and Nick?” He looks hopeful; his hand finds mine, and he interlocks our fingers and lifts my hand up to his mouth, where he lays featherlight kisses on each and every knuckle on my hand.

“I’ll call you. But I need you to go now before we do something really stupid. Like let you bend me over the couch and rail me while I still have a boyfriend.” I give him a soft smile while I gently push him towards the door.

He reaches for the door but turns around at the last second, grabs me by the waist, and pins me to the door. “I do, however, want to do that at a later time. But promise me you’ll call me after.” He leans in and plants soft kisses along the colom of my throat. My knees feel like jelly, and if he hadn’t been holding me up, I would have fallen to the floor.

“Yes, I promise.” I let out a breathy moan. “Now, go, baby; for mine and your sanity, go.” I beg.

“Good night, querida.” He gives me one of his devilish, lopsided smiles.

He moves me to the side, then steps away from me so he can open the door and let himself out. But before he’s out of sight, I notice his hand reaching down to readjust himself in those sexy, tight jeans of his. I can’t help but let the smirk on my lips grow as I think that he is as fucked for me as I am for him. Now I just have to break someone's heart before we can be together for real. And that’s not really something I’m looking forward to. But before I go to bed, I take another shower to cool off.

The next day I call Nick after work; I want to get this over with as soon as possible. There is no need to drag out the inevitable. I asked him to come meet me at a café near North Central Park. He had first asked me to come over to his place, but I thought it would be best to do this in public. If he got upset and wanted to leave, he could.

With my tea in my hand, I sit at the table, waiting anxiously for Nick to arrive. I have no idea how I’m going to break it to him, so I suppose I’ll just rip the bandage off the moment he sits down.

I see him coming down the sidewalk; he looks anxious too. He probably heard it in my voice when I called earlier. Nothing good ever comes after the dreaded line “can we talk” which is exactly the one I used earlier when I called him.

“Hey.” He leans in to kiss me, but at the last moment, I turn my head, and his kiss lads on my cheek. My pulse is racing, and my hands are clammy. I grip my mug tighter in an attempt to ground myself. “Everything okay?” He asks.

“I...” I begin, but I can’t seem to get the words out. Fuck, this is so hard! So I just open my mouth and hope I find the right words. “It was never my intention to hurt you, Nick. Please, you have to understand, and to be honest, I never expected Javi to...well, change.” I’m rambling, and when I look at Nick, he looks almost happy? Is he smiling at me?

“I understand. I mean, how can I compete with that guy? You love him.” I’m at a loss for words. Did he just tell me he understands?

“Say what now?” I ask. I must have misheard him. I stare at him with a dumbfounded look on my face, trying to figure out what’s happening.

“Everyone here in Laredo knows about your story. Kind of like star-crossed lovers, always out of reach of one another. And to be frank, I think the whole town has been waiting and hoping for him to get his shit together and realise it's you that he wants. That it’s you he needs. And judging from the conversation you wanted to have with me today, I can assume that he finally came to his senses?”

“He...yeah, you could say that.” I let out a small laugh. The absurdity of how quickly this conversation unfolded is beyond me. I don’t know if I should laugh or cry.

“And you want him.” He asks. It’s not really a question, more of a statement.

“Yes, I’m so sorry, Nick. This is not what I had planned at all. You have to believe me that I never thought that he would change. It’s not like we haven’t tried before. But I don’t know; something is different this time. He’s different.” I reach out across the table and grab his hand in mine. “Please forgive me.”

“I know you didn’t mean for it to happen this way. And honestly, I’m happy for you. If you’re happy, then that’s all I want for you.” He says and squeezes my hand once before letting my hand go.

I don’t know how he’s taking this so calmly, but I appreciate it nonetheless. “Just promise me one thing.”

“What?” I ask.

“Don’t let him take you for granted this time. You deserve the best, and I hope he realises that.”

“I won’t, and thank you, Nick, truly. I hope you find someone who will care for you the way you deserve.”

He stands up and gives me a gentle smile.

“Thanks; I guess I’ll see you around town then.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you around.” I reply. And with that, he walks away. I let out a breath I didn’t know I had been holding in. This went way better than I expected.

After Nick leaves, I jump into an Uber and tell him where to drive. I have someone I need to go see. My whole body is buzzing with excitement as the car takes me across town and out to the countryside. When the car stops in front of the house, I get out on shaky legs. What if last night was just a dream, and this is all in my head? Or what if he changed his mind? Maybe he just wanted me when I wasn’t his to have? I don’t have to think about it long, though. The door swings open, and out steps Javi. My Javi, or at least, I hope he’ll be mine.

“You’re here. Does that mean...?" He doesn’t finish his question. Instead, he looks at me intensely, his eyes roaming all over my body before landing on my face. Like he’s searching for something and hopes he’ll find the answer in my eyes.

“I’m yours.” That is all I say. And before I know it, he closes the distance between us and pulls me into his arms.

“Mine.” He breathes as he squeezes me tighter to him. Hands drift down my back and land on my ass, lifting me up. I wrap my legs around his waist, and he all but runs back into the house with me in his arms. Pushing the door open and then kicking it closed behind us, his lips find mine, and he claims my mouth with his. Never once does he let go of our connection as he walks me into his bedroom with me still in his arms. Walking up to the bed, he stops by and lowers me down on top of it softly.

He climbs into bed on top of me. I scoot back further into the middle of the bed, and he follows. Deft fingers start to unbutton my jeans and then pull down the zipper. Leading in, he lifts my shirt up and kisses my exposed skin before he grabs the hem of my top and pulls it up and over my head, discarding it somewhere behind him on the floor. Sneaking one hand around my back, he unclasps my bra and flings it over his shoulder. Next, he grips my jeans and panties off in one swift movement and tosses them to the floor as well.

A deep goran vibrates from his chest as his eyes drink me in; now I’m naked in front of him, in his bed.

“Fuck baby, I can’t believe I almost lost you. I’m never letting you go again.” He says it so low, I almost don’t hear him. But I do, and my throat feels thick with emotions. He never used to be like this before.

“Say it,” I plead. I know he feels it; I need him to say it. “Say it, and I’ll be yours forever.” He knows what I mean. The thing I so desperately wanted him to say 7 months ago. But something I think maybe he didn’t know he truly felt until after he saw me moving on. Or attempting to move on. How can one truly move on if one never lets go of the one they really want?

His hands roam all over my body, moulding me like clay. Claiming me as his. He bends down, locks his lips around mine, and kisses me like his life depends on it. Like only my breath can save him from certain death. Tongues, teeth, and breath mix, and when his hand slips in between my thighs, I can’t help but arch into his touch, and the moan that tears itself from my throat sounds borderline feral when one finger slides in between my slit.

“I love you.” He kisses me again, stealing my breath, when he eases one finger into me. “Fuck querida, you’re so wet. Is this all for me?” He asks as he slowly pumps his finger in and out of me at a leisurely pace.

“Oh God! Yes!” I pant. His movements stop.

"No, my love, not God, Javi, I want you to scream my name. I’m the one who makes you feel this good. It should be my name that comes from your lips when you cum. Now, be a good girl and cum for me.” He picks up his pace, adding another finger. My mouth falls open, and moan after moan pours out of me as he keeps hitting that spot inside that I can’t seem to reach myself most of the time unless I use a toy. And even then, it’s not as good as when he pushes his thick fingers inside me.

The waves of pleasure build quickly, and I can feel it coming. I won’t be able to keep it down for long. He knows my body better than I do. Angling his hand just a little and pushing deep inside again and again when his other hand reaches up to punch my nipple sends me over the edge, and I crash into the waves of the oncoming orgasm.

I scream out his name as my walls pulsate around him, but he doesn’t let up. He lets me ride out my orgasm, still pumping his big fingers in and out of me just so until I finally come down from the high.

I open my eyes to find him looking right at me with the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on his lips.

“I love it when you scream for me, baby. Now, let’s see how many times we can make you cum before you beg me to stop. I have some time to make up for, don’t I?” He bends down before I even have a chance to respond. He licks me from the top of the slit all the way down to my entrance. Making me arch my back off the bed.

“Oh, fuck. Javi.” I breathe out. His tongue circles back up and flicks my clit, making me jerk in reaction.

“Say it.” He demands. Before he seals his lips around my clit and sucks. Stealing the breath from my lungs. My hands find their way into his hair, a firm grasp on his locks. I grind myself into his mouth as his fingers pick up speed again. Lifting his head back up, his fingers pull out.

I whine in protest. “What are you doing?” I question.

“Say it, say it, and I’m yours. I’ll give you anything you want.” He begs. Javi is not a man who begs. But he’s begging me. I know what he wants. He said it, and now he wants me to say it. How can I resist this man? All I’ve ever wanted was him, so I give him what he wants.

“I love you.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing you say that, querida. I love you so fucking much.” He replies, then bends his head back down, circling and licking at my clit while he pushes his fingers back inside.

He quickly works me up to another orgasm, and when I come back down again, he moves up on top of me, his moustache glistening with my arousal.

He moves to get up and stands next to the bed as he quickly sheds his cloths, dropping them on the floor where he stands. Before he crawls on top of me again, this time completely naked, his cock nudges against my hip.

“Kiss me, then fuck me, Javi.” My arms wrap around his neck, my legs wrap around his waist, and the heels of my feet push him closer to me.

“For you, my love, I’ll do anything.” And he does. He kisses hard and fast, then slow and soft. Then he lines himself up with my entrance and pushes inside, and I’ve never felt so goddamn good as I do in that moment. I’m right where I’m meant to be. With him.

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marvelwitchergilmore · 1 year

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Durazno

Summary: Javier Pena x Fe!OC/Reader (Last Name: Becker) -> When you get a call at work, you try your best to hide your emotions but in the end, Javier is there for you.

Warning: Doesn't exactly follow the plot of Narcos, swearing, narcos-level violence mentioned, fluff, angst, Durazno is Peach in Spanish (according to Google Translate)

Every day was a new case, or, at least, that was what it felt like.

Someone would call with a tip on someone and someone would go and investigate it - see if it was worth while and what they would want in exchange. Usually, it was cash. Sometimes it would be a visa and on the rare occasion, it would be nothing. They’d either just want to be kept secret or have the cops do their job and promise they’ll put whoever behind bars when the time came.

But the call you received today was not one of those calls.

Peña was out on a break whilst Murphy was sat at his desk, smoking, waiting for Peña to get back with their food.

Your desk was just across from where Peña and Murphy’s was. Only, while they sat face to face, you sat on your own with clear view of Peña.

You had just come back from the copy room, dropping off the extra case paperwork by the boys’ desk, when your phone rang.

At first you looked around confused until you realised it was your phone and with stratigic moves, your crossed the room wordlessly before picking it up.

“Becker,” you answered.

Murphy watched you for a second before looking back to his files. In all honesty, he did try and listen to what was being said but you spoke so quietly that it would take a genius at lip reading to know what you said.

Something you had learnt quickly after joining the DEA was that nothing was secret. Nobody could afford it to be. So, you had learnt to speak quietly, quickly and clearly enough to know no one in the office could hear you and it swiftly became a private conversation between just you and the caller.

But it wasn’t until Peña came in that Murphy looked up. His partner tossed him his sandwich before making his way to his desk, only, once he reached the bottom of the stairs, Peña stalled in his tracks.

The conversation came to a quick end and you slammed the receiver down harsher than you had meant.

Within seconds you had opened your desk draw, placed your firearm by your side and strides towards your jacket that hung on the hook.

“Where are you going?” Peña asked.

You didn’t even look in his direction of Murphy’s. Your eyes were fixed on the doors ahead.

Part of you knew if you even thought about looking at Peña, he’d know more than what you wished even yourself to know.

“Out.”

Within seconds, you were out of the door and slipping into your car before tearing down the road.

Peña and Murphy had been having a slow day, mostly filled with typing and filing paperwork. You had been gone for hours, more than you had ever been gone and Peña hated that it worried him.

Those worries were not eased, either, when two high ranking military officers walked into the office looking for you.

Both Peña and Murphy had tried their best to find out the reason why they were looking for you - they could only both hope you hadn’t done something reckless or stupid. But no one was saying anything. Not even anyone in the office knew. And sometimes it felt like they knew anything and everything.

Peña had tried calling you but there had been no answer. He even called round your usual places looking for you - your apartment, the market stalls, the small cafe that him and yourself had found a while back when trying to avoid the hot sun of Columbia.

But you were nowhere to be found.

Until, nearly 12 hours after leaving, you turned up.

Your jacket was now draped over your arm, the baby hairs by your neck had curled due to the sweat from the heat outside.

Both Peña and Murphy had been glad they’d been stuck inside. There was less chance of dying from heat stroke. Even if they were bored out of their minds.

You had pulled your hair back into a messy ponytail but it didn’t stop the shorter hairs from framing your face.

You removed the sunglasses as you came down the step, watching as the two officers stood.

“Agent Becker?”

“That’s me.”

“We need to talk.”

You shared a look with the two men - maybe they already knew that you knew. After all, this was mandatory, coming to tell the family, wasn’t it?

You showed no other emotion on your face before you directed the two men into an empty office where they sat and you opted to stand. If you turned around, you’d face them and anyone would could see in through the windows. So, you kept your back to the two men and the window, whilst looking out the window in front of you and onto the streets below.

It was like you could feel Peña’s eyes on you the whole time. You didn’t even have to look back.

The only reason why you didn’t shut the shutters fully was because one; they were broken anyway, and two; it would only raise more suspicion. You didn’t need the office gossiping about your life. You were already one of the only females in the office who was an actual agent. You didn’t want more judgement or gossip.

You listened to the officers words as they told you the news you had already found out.

Of course, no official higher than a CSI or Coroner would know that you already knew. The call had come from a friend who wasn’t too far from the place. They thought it was better you found out of your own, rather than through some military official.

By the time they finished speaking, you turned back to them and thanked them for coming to you, to which they nodded with solem looks before replacing their hats and making their way out of the office.

They bid good evening to Peña and Murphy who only looked back to where you stood in the office, your attention fixed on the people outside.

You and Peña, from first meeting, had a connection. It was what made you great partners when working. You knew what the other was think or doing before it was said aloud.

Which was why you knew he was stood by the office door before he even opened his mouth.

“I’m good, Peña. Everything’s good.”

“Are you sure?”

You turned around once you knew that any tears that wished to make their way out were fully gone.

“I’m sure.”

Quickly, you made your way out of the door causing Peña to move back, but as you grabbed your jacket, Peña was by your side again.

“Becker-“ You moved away quickly.

“Tell Messina I’ll be back in tomorrow.”

Standing with his hands on his hips and a worried expression on his face, he called out to you again, but this time, with one foot on the step, you turned around.

“Durazno,” Peña hadn’t meant to say it too loud. After all, the story behind it was one just between the two of you. Maybe if others paid attention, they’d realise why, but it was something only he called you.

He didn’t have to say anything else. Just the look on his face was enough.

“Honestly, Javi.” You said in a slightly softer tone than before. “I’m good. Everything’s fine.”

All he could do is watch you walk away. By the time he returned to his desk, Steve’s eyes hadn’t left him once.

He’d heard Peña call you by that name a few times over the last year or so. Often it was only said late at night when no one was really in the office, or when Peña wanted information that you wouldn’t share with him - even when you wanted to. But whenever he said it, it was always affectionate.

“Do you think she’ll tell us?”

Peña pulled his chair in and folded his hands, scratching his brow, “I don’t know.”

You could be stubborn at times, Peña knew that. Whenever it came to something personal that you shouldn’t be dealing with alone, you were even more so. Peña knew that, too.

But it wouldn’t be too long until he found out the truth.

It took around a week before the papers would publish the names of those who had died in a shoot out.

There was always plenty of crime in Columbia so when Murphy was flicking through the paper, he didn’t take much heed to the crimes that had happened or else he’d never be calm.

After 20 minutes of reading, he threw the paper down.

“Fucking assholes. Three military boys dead in a stone cold shoot out about 2 hours out. Fuck.”

Pena, holding his cigarette between his lips, picked up the paper and fanned it out.

“Page 5.” Steve told him.

Flicking through, Peña eventually found it and when he did, it felt like the world finally levelled out.

Steve looked over after a few minutes of silence. Peña’s eyes were fixed on one name in particular.

“What? What is it?” Murphy asked.

That was when Peña looked up since you had hopped down the steps of the office and towards your desk.

You were busy with work so hadn’t spotted Peña’s eyes fixed on you as you moved about.

“Nothing.” Peña answered, tossing the paper back down. “Nothing.”

Thankfully, Peña’s phone rang with a tip on someone.

You still hadn’t mentioned anything. Maybe you would now that the article was out. But in all honesty, you were praying that Peña didn’t see the article. He was the only one who knew to link your name to one of the officers in the article.

And your chances were good since it wasn’t often he bought a paper.

But when you saw the paper on Murphy’s desk, you could only pray he hadn’t see in - or had forgotten.

But this was Peña.

When it came to you, he forgot nothing.

You thought you had gotten away with it, for a while at least.

When it came to personal things, you didn’t like talking about them much. You believed you’d be better at your job if you just ignored the feelings. Yeah, maybe feel sad once in a while, or angry. But you didn’t have that luxury of knowing that your anger would be accepted…by anyone.

You lose track of a CI, having no idea if they’re dead or not? Keep your emotions buried. You lose a partner on the job even though you had told your boss it wasn’t safe to split up? You bottle up any anger you have and take it out on the gun range.

By the time night fell, you found yourself swamped in work. It was only when Messina came out from her office and told you to go home that you realised how late it was.

“You are allowed to grieve, Becker.” She told you. “We all know what it’s like to lose someone. Nobody would judge you for taking a few days.”

Your voice was quiet when you spoke. You’d barely said anything all day, it was like you had only just woke up when you talked aloud.

“Thank you, Boss. But…”

You didn’t quite know what to say. Any family you had talked to was angry. Angry that he had died. Angry that he had joined the military in the first place. Angry that you hadn’t looked after him better.

Messina nodded. “Talk to Peña.”

Messina knew you two were close. Sometimes it felt like the two of you were more attached by the hip than Murphy and Peña were.

“I-,” you paused and looked down to your papers for a moment. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Talk to Peña.” She repeated. “You should at least tell someone about him. Have a drink, share a couple of memories. Grieve.”

You could do nothing but nod.

“Go home, Becker. Get some rest.”

“Yes, Boss.”

“Goodnight.”

“Night.”

It took a little longer than 10 minutes but eventually you made your way outside and to your car.

His funeral would be back in the states in a couple of days. Maybe you’d grieve then.

Your drive home was silent. Usually, you’d play some kind of music to bide your time. But not tonight. Tonight the drive was completely silent. There was no noise apart from the rumbling of your car engine.

But the moment you pulled up outside your apartment block, you took a few minutes.

You couldn’t get out just yet. You needed to breath.

Slowly, you rested your head on your steering wheel and it’s listened to the noise outside. Someone was having a party a couple blocks away. You wondered what they were celebrating. Life? A wedding? An engagement? Promotion? Just because?

Soon, you found your body switching to auto pilot.

You climbed out of your car, shutting the door behind you. You reached into the back and grabbed your bag before shutting the door again and locking your car.

That was when you looked up to the steps of your building.

Peña slowly stood when he knew you’d spotted him.

How long had he been there?

“A short while.”

So you had said the question aloud.

You walked around your car and towards the steps and door of your apartment.

“How precise.” You mocked.

“Well, I am known for my transparency.”

That made you smile a little as you slipped your key into the lock.

Peña followed you inside, you locking the door behind him.

“What are you doing here, Peña?”

“I got worried.”

“Like I told you last week, everything is good.” You breezed past him and into your sitting room/kitchen, dropping your bag by the sofa.

“I know about the shootings.”

Well, there went your chance of hope that he didn’t know.

“I’m fine, Javi.”

“But you’re not.”

“How would you know what I’m feeling? You’re not me.”

“You’re right,” Javier said, defeatedly. “But I know you, maybe better than you think. Durazno, por favor.”

You couldn’t look at him. Not yet, anyway. You just rested your hands on your kitchen counter where the bottle of fresh orange juice you’d just grabbed from your fridge was dripping condensation.

“I can’t, Javi. Not right now.”

“Okay.” He agreed.

Removing his hands from his hips, he paced on the spot for a moment. Part of him wanted to hug you. The other wanted to leave you alone knowing you’d come and find him when you were ready to talk.

“Do you want— do you want me to-“

Neither of you really knew what the end of the sentence was going to be. Stay? Hold you? Leave? Make food? He knew you’d probably not eaten in a while since you’d been swimming in paper work all day.

“I’ll be okay, Javi.” You looked at him over your shoulder now. He could see where the tears in your eyes wanted to show but you were still fighting them off. “I promise.”

Javi looked at you and his heart broke.

For as long as he’d known you, you’d been tough. Tougher than any agent he’d ever known. Even in cases where he could no longer look, you went in for him. You dealt with the tough cases, you kept your emotions at bay as best you could.

He’d known you so long, he knew by the amount of holes in your targets how much you were really feeling.

But no one else did.

Peña was always there for you, even during the times you didn’t want him to be.

He knew you.

And you knew him.

That was how you knew from just the look in his eyes and the slight shift in his body language when he was looking at you that his heart was breaking, and watching yours break, broke his all the more.

You managed to pull yourself together for a few minutes, turning around and folding your arms across your body with a small, forced smile.

“Go home, Javi. It’s late.”

“Alright.” Javi moved after a couple of seconds, rubbing his mustashe and looking around him. “I’ll be seeing you.”

“Bye.” You’re voice came out faint as you watched him walk away.

The next few days were filled with longing and worried looks from Peña. He was watching your every move.

And in all honesty, was so Messina.

That was why she pulled Javier into her office when you had taken your lunch break.

“I need you to go with her back to the states.”

“Boss?”

Claudia intertwined her fingers and layer them on the desk.

“You and Becker are attached by the hip and since I’m the only one who can see the worry in your eyes every time you look in her general direction, I take it you know.”

Peña nodded.

“We both know that people grieve in their own ways but we also know Becker is one of the best agents on this team. I need to know that she’ll be fit to come back to work here with at least a little emotion attached.”

“What about my cases?”

“Murphy has agreed to take them on.” she stated. “I’m risking letting two agents leave to ensure both come back, not just one. Do you understand, Agent Peña?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.”

Peña caught the next flight out from yours, but you wouldn’t know this until a few days later when he, like both an angel and devil, appeared by your side at the funeral.

Everyone else had began walking back to your childhood home where they would have the final drinks that would probably disappear into the late night as they remembered him.

But you had stayed.

Your dress covered your knees and the heels your aunt had chosen were beginning to hurt your feet. God, why did shoes have to hurt so much? Weren’t they made to protect your feet? Not kill them slowly in blinding pain?

But you didn’t have much time to think because you heard someone steadily approaching from behind. At first, you thought it was the minister. Isn’t this the part where he tells you some shit about life and it’s wonders and how death just continues that? Life and death, no matter what, it’s just one big journey?

God, you hoped not.

And your prayers were answered because the person who stood beside you was not a minister but it was someone who you trusted with your life completely.

But he wasn’t meant to be here.

“Javier.” You’re voice came out shocked and you began to look around you. “Is-“

“Relax,” he told you. “It’s just me. Thought you might like a friendly face.”

Once you recovered from the initial shock that he was in the states, stood beside you and not sat across from Murphy in Columbia where you thought he was, you gave a soft nod and smile before turning back to the dirt covered hole in the ground.

“For what it’s worth,” you said after a long time of silence, “I’m kinda glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad I’m here, too.”

That was when he took your hand in his. He watched your hand intertwined with his for a moment but when he looked up, your gaze was fixed straight ahead.

“When we were kids…we’d play by the park, just down the street.”

Javi knew which one she meant. He’d passed it on the walk down to the church.

“A couple years ago, we came back here for my cousin’s wedding. It had gotten too loud for my liking so, I took a walk and about 30 minutes later, there he was, walking up the park path with two beer bottles in his hands. We just…we stayed out there until dad came looking for us. Mom was driving him so mad,” you laughed a little as you pictured it in your head. “Just…everything about the night reminded me of when we were teenagers and just…he was there for me, you know.” You couldn’t stop the small tears that began to fall. “I should have been there for him.”

“Hey, no. Don’t think like that.” Javier squires your hand and pulled you closer until you were facing him. With his other hand, he wiped away the escaped tears from your face.

“I don’t know what I’m meant to do. He was my brother, Javi. He was the only one who-” you said trying your hardest not to cry.

“You grieve,” Javier told you. Swiftly, he pulled you in for a hug, his hand resting in your hair at the back of your head. “You grieve him.” Peña repeated. “And you remember him.”

After that, you gripped onto him a little tighter.

Neither of you cared how long you stood there. You grieved for your brother and all the memories you shared. And Peña would have stood all day and night if he had to.

You deserved to grieve. You deserved to cry. You deserved to be able to remember your brother without any judgment from anyone.

Eventually, you pulled away from Javier and he wiped the last few tears away. You both gathered there would be more later, but in that moment you were exhausted.

“Come on,” Peña’s voice was soft and calm. Slowly, he peeled himself from you for a moment to remove his blazer before putting it over your shoulders, securing his arm in the same place as you both began to make your way back to your childhood home.

Everyone was either falling asleep on the sofa watching old reruns or they were outside, talking and laughing through the tears of old memories.

“Come on,” Peña spoke softly again.

On the way down to the house, he’d gotten you talking about family and about other things to help distract you.

Taking your hand, he led you upstairs. Your other hand remained attached to the bottom of his shirt as he climbed the stairs.

“Which way?”

You pointed down the hall and he continued into the bedroom, peeling back the covers and finding you some pajamas that you had packed.

“Can you stay with me?” You asked as he places the clothes on your lap.

He was crouched down now, his hands still on the clothing. Your body was on auto pilot once again. Your fingers tracing his, tears in your eyes once more. “Please.”

After a moment, Javier nodded.

10 minutes later, he climbed into bed with you and lay by your side.

You didn’t quite know why, but he calmed you. Everything about him calmed you. Even in the most stressful situations at work, he calmed you.

His hand was tracing your hair absentmindedly, and once he knew you had fallen asleep, he placed a soft kiss to your head.

A few hours passed and neither you or Peña had moved from the position you’d both fallen asleep in.

It had been your dad, Frank, to open the door. He’d been woken by his wife, telling him to go to be before he got a bad back again for falling asleep on the recliner. He’d asked for you and she told him that she hadn’t see you in hours. Last she knew, some guy was approaching you as the service was wrapping up.

He was careful when opening the door and when he saw you covered and wrapped securely in the arms of the stranger, he then realised who the stranger was.

He’d heard the stories of a certain Co-worker. The same man you’d met years ago on a work trip.

In most recent months, he’d come to know one Javier Peña even if Peña didn’t have a clue who Frank was. Although, Frank could guess since he seemed to know about his son and your brother, he had a pretty good idea that Peña knew who the main people in the family were.

Softly, he shut the door behind him.

Tomorrow could wait for questions. Tonight, everyone needed rest.

When tomorrow finally came, you woke before Javi which was something. Sometimes it felt like he was up at the crack of dawn to beat the roosters.

But not this morning.

Carefully, you removed yourself from his grip, slipped out of bed, and headed into the en-suit bathroom. You didn’t fully close the door knowing the sound of a lock would wake Peña in an instant.

For a few moments, you stared at your reflection in the mirror.

Your eyes were less puffy, but sleep still remained in the corners. Your hair floated around your face and with the t-shirt you wore, your skin seemed like it was fading.

So, running the tap, you quickly splashed your face with water before turning the tap off and drying your skin.

By the time you finished, you just stood there for a few moments. It felt like everything was on a slant whilst also being grounded.

You’d lost people before, like this. But it…it never felt this way.

The moment you heard Isabella’s voice on the other end of the phone and what she was saying, it felt like your world was spinning g and you was doing everything you could just to keep it still and let you move.

Your eyes had been fixed on the office door and by the time you arrived, there were soldiers everywhere and CSI cleaning up the bodies.

People were yelling and taking statements about what had happened. Meanwhile, you could see the outline of three bodies in body bags on top of gurneys. And your eyes focused in on one.

In all honesty, the looked the same. But, for some reason, you focused on the second one. You just knew.

You quickly flashed your badge to get past the guards and flashed it to the CSI that was taking pictures.

If Javi or anyone else had been there, they probably would have told you not to look. You didn’t need to see your brother in that state.

But you needed to know.

The words came out of you quietly as you signaled to the bag. The Coroner opened it up and…you didn’t know where to put yourself.

There he was, three bullet hole in his chest.

“Do they know if it was a targeted attack?” You asked before repeating it in Spanish.

The consensus was no. In fact, your brother has been trying to save a baby from getting caught in the cross fire. Some kind of family feud in the middle of the street and a baby in its carrier had been pushed into the road.

Your brother had died to save a child.

He would forever be known as a hero.

Always.

You found yourself slipping from the memory as you felt a hand touch the top of your arm. That was when you saw Javi.

“Hey, you-“

You nodded quickly. “I’m okay.”

“Hey, wait.”

“What?” You quickly turned back, Javi taking your hand in his.

You both stood close to one another, your eyes searching his wondering what he wanted to say whilst his just stayed fixed on you. There was still that look of longing in his eyes.

He wanted to ask you a million questions and in his head, he was. But out loud, he spoke softly and said one thing with a smile.

“Good morning,”

You couldn’t help but smile back. “Good morning.”

Sentences were spoken wordlessly between you until finally you could hear clattering downstairs from your mom being up and making breakfast.

“We’d better-“

“Yep.”

Neither of you got dressed too much. Peña had changed into a pair of jeans and a flannel whilst you remained in your pjs top, just shoving on a pair of shorts in place of your joggers.

“Have you seen-“

You didn’t have to finish your sentence as Peña was already passing you a bobble as you scooped your hair up.

“Thanks.”

By the time you both made it downstairs, you took the pans from your mother. She wasn’t in any state to be doing anything, never mind cooking breakfast.

“No, I have to- I have to do this.”

You stood your ground. “Mom. Go and sit down. Dad’s in the living room. Go.”

Eventually, your mom gave in.

Usually, you were both as stubborn as one another and it would have been your brother who would have become the mediator between you both. A single word from him and your mom would melt. She’d go and sit down and be singing his praises.

In the kitchen, Javi helped you cook breakfast for your family.

One day, it would get easier. It would be something you’d always hold in your heart but not so much in your head.

But having Peña by your side, it was less tense. Less like a weight on your shoulders that you couldn’t show anyone because your knew it was safe. You knew it was safe to fall if you couldn’t take it anymore because Peña would be there to catch you.

225 notes · View notes

latoyalestrange · 8 months

Text

THE FOOL

p. pascal x f!oc

Masterlist | Playlist

Summary: Naela wonders if her dream is worth her efforts. She's 25 now, and she's seen dozens of people's careers take off years before hers. Why can't she catch a break?

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: A lil childhood trauma thrown in there, loneliness, a quarter-life crisis. I'll make up for it, dw. Not edited bc I do what I want lol.

Taglist: @marvel-sw-lover , @lokislittle , @red-red-rogue

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CHAPTER ONE -- HALF TRUTH

The beautiful in-between, the calm before the storm, or as Naela liked to call it, pure hell. The days, weeks, sometimes months she waited for her manager to call her with a verdict. She busied herself with her second job (the only one making her money) and other auditions in this period, but there was always a sense of existential-level dread that hung over her like a dark cloud everywhere she went. She could zone out for as long as her environment would let her, either daydreaming about getting the role or reminding herself of what she could've done better.

She was doing just that when she felt her phone buzzing on the leather booth next to her. She knew it could only be two people, her boyfriend or her manager. She recalled her last audition, a nameless Netflix show where, if she were to miraculously get the part, she would be a key character to the story. Tons of lines, a romance sub-plot, and even some character development. She also hated to admit it, but she really hoped it wasn’t her boyfriend.

It’s not that she didn’t love him, she did, but she loved acting so much more. They’d been together for close to three years. She had met him in her senior year at UCLA and they were a match ever since.

Sure enough, it was her manager, Mike's, name on her screen. Every single time he called, it left her breathless for a second. A familiar tightness in her chest and empty expression returned. She answered and hesitantly put the phone to her ear.

"Hello--"

"Naela!" She pulled her phone away, letting her eardrums recover. "Naela! Naela Rivera!"

"What? Why are you yelling?" She questioned him in a hushed tone, not wanting to attract attention on her break.

"You got the part! You're gonna be on a Netflix show!"

She was silent for a moment, then laughed, "What?" He must be joking.

"I'm serious! The Casting Director just called, the show is called Narcos, and you fly out to Columbia in two weeks." Silence again.

"I have work--"

"Hello?? So quit! You'll be shooting for six months anyway. Listen, I'll let you process this but I already told them yes. I'll send everything over." She blinked away the surprise on her face and nodded.

"O-okay, yeah, thanks..." She heard the line disconnect, but she held her phone up to her ear, still stunned, frozen.

God...this was everything she's ever wanted. She instantly thought of her fourteen-year-old self walking dogs, running lemonade stands, and babysitting every chance she got to save up. Then her at fifteen, getting her first job under the table and putting every bill they gave her in a jar. Then her at eighteen, spending so much of it to move to Los Angeles. Lastly, her now, at twenty-five...working forty-hour weeks, auditions on her days off and sometimes having to choose between an audition fee or food. On top of that, fighting with her boyfriend when she told him about her breakout role. Apparently she chose the job to spite him, knowing she’d be able to cheat on him with the illusion of it being part of her job. Eventually she convinced him that it was just a job and that she loved him, but all she kept thinking was how he should be happy for her. She wondered what her future self looked like.

The next two weeks were a blur of signing contracts, packing, setting up a direct deposit with her landlord, calling her family to tell them the news and mentally preparing herself when the madness ceased just a few days before her flight.

Even then it still didn't feel real when she got to the airport, stepped on the plane, or when she finally landed in Columbia. If the temperature change wasn't enough, the live tropical plants that decorated the airport definitely made her realize she was far from home. To Naela's surprise, and her dread, Mike was waiting for her outside of the terminal. Glasses, linen button up, slacks and all. He jogged over to her, his arms open for a hug. she reluctantly reciprocated, side-hugging him back.

"Oh, Naela, so glad to be here for you. This place is paradise! Have you seen the lounge yet?"

She gave him a tired smile, "No, I just got off the plane--"

"Right, right, getting ahead of myself. Go get yourself a juice or something, I'll go get your bags." He jogged off to baggage claim, that same chipper smile on his face. Naela stood there for a moment, confused. He wasn't normally so excited or helpful. She shook her head and turned to start towards the lounge, which looked a little crowded with chatting patrons. She weaved through the couches and tables to get to the juice bar with an array of selections and fresh fruit toppings. Naela, taking advantage of all the options, made a cocktail of pinapple juice, frozen mango, lemon, and orange. Taking one sip lifted a small weight off of her shoulders. Her first taste of paradise and fucking making it after all those years. A proud smile shown lightly through her jet-lag RBF.

The moment was short-lived, however, when Mike found her, her two large suitcases rolling behind him and her heavy duffle slung over his shoulder. He instantly dropped the patterned bag at her feet, his chest heaving a bit.

"Had no idea your bags were this heavy..." Naela repressed a chuckle as she saw her manager struggle and humble himself.

"I got it, thanks," she replied cheekily, taking both suitcases in her hands and carrying her duffle with ease. He looked shocked for a moment, then led her towards the exit. She smiled to herself as his back was turned.

Once they were outside, it was still just as crowded, but much, much, hotter. The humidity alone was bad enough but the early afternoon sun was brutal. She was sweating already, even under the shade of the building. She reluctantly took off her hoodie, which she was sure left her hair frizzy, just adding to the look. She wiped away the beads of moisture forming on her face, making her realize her deodorant was packed away in her suitcase. Luckily, she didn't have to suffer for long, the shuttle with the film company text on the side pulled into the drive after just a few minutes. Mike instantly opened the door and sat himself down in the farthest seat.

The driver, however, got out to help Naela put her bags in the trunk, at which point, four other men gathered around the shuttle to do the same. She didn't even notice them waiting with her, but she did now. Two of them were dressed more comfortably, like her, and the other two looked more polished, and professional. She immediately made the connection, more actors and their mangers.

Once her luggage was tucked away, she joined Mike in the air-conditioned van, not saying a word. The inside of the car was incredibly clean, it looked brand new and smelled that way too.

The next passenger to climb inside was older than Naela for sure. Some scruffy stubble shaped his cheekbones and sharp jaw perfectly, and he had the same curly, frizzy hair Naela had. He wasted no time sitting himself right next to her and giving her a polite smile.

"Hey, I'm Pedro," he introduced himself, a little breathless from the heat. He extended his muscular hand for her to take. She instantly look it and smiled brightly back at him.

"Naela." She added, feeling his hand totally engulf hers.

"You have a beautiful name, Naela. Nice to meet you." Other people were still getting into the car, and she could hardly focus, due in part to his confidence.

"Thank you--" Another man reached over from the row of seats in front of them and offered his hand as well.

"Boyd Holbrook. I've already met Pedro, but not you." Wow. Was every actor going to be this attractive? She already felt out of place by the second one.

"Naela. Nice to meet you." She shook his hand just as she did Pedro's. Boyd's were a bit softer, but hers were still small in comparison. He nodded, smiling and turned around to face the driver again, who was just starting the van.

The drive to the studio was mostly silent, very bumpy, but luckily not very long. When she saw all the trailed lined up outside of the warehouse, it finally sunk in. The biggest set she'd ever been on, and she was one of the stars. Everyone went their separate ways after getting out of the shuttle, and Mike led her to her trailer. Her very own trailer. It even had her name on the door. Once she got inside, she set her luggage down and looked around in awe.

"Okay, Naela! This is your home for the next six months." She didn't respond as she spotted the back bedroom, instantly going in to check it out.

"Don't forget the cast dinner at six, okay?" He called to her once she disappeared behind the curtain partition.

"Okay!" She answered. At times like these, she wondered if she really needed a manager that badly. She looked around a bit more, unpacked some things, then started getting ready. Only after she turned on the AC, though.

By five-thirty, she was ready. She put on a red two-piece sundress with sleeves that hung off her shoulders. That particular shade of red she loved; she was always told it complimented her tan skin. She refreshed her dry curls and put on some comfortable nude heels. She couldn't bare putting makeup on with the heat, so she just brushed through her brows and put a light layer of mascara on her lashes.

She knew she was early, but she also knew it couldn't hurt to get to know some of her castmates beforehand. She told herself she didn't have anyone specific in mind. To her surprise, however, she found mostly every seat filled when she arrived at the patio.

Most people didn't look up when she rounded the corner, but as soon as Pedro saw her, he started waving her over.

"Naela! Your seat is here." She was sure everyone could see her blush, everyone's eyes on her as she joined them at the table.

"Ah, there's my Lucia! The Golden Trio is all here." The director added. Wait. The Golden Trio?

He sat at the very end of the table, Boyd on one side and her and Pedro on the other. He outstretched his hand. No...that means Pedro is...Javi? She recalled the scenes she performed at the casting call with a character named Javi. From what she gathered, their characters were friends with benefits.

Out of politeness, she obliged and met his hand with hers. "Thank you, sir," was all she could think to say. Once she sat next to Pedro, she finally allowed herself to take in the scenery. Lush fruit trees grew over the courtyard and a grand fountain stood tall in the center.

"Exhausted yet?" Pedro muttered, leaning toward her.

She chuckled, "I don't think I've ever been so tired. I slept on the plane, too."

"I know, somehow sleeping made me more tired," He laughed in response, then continued, "Do you like your trailer? Definitely not what I'm used to."

She shook her head, "No, me neither. It's making my apartment look bad." They laughed again in unison. Unnoticed by Naela, Boyd was smirking over at Pedro, shaking his head too.

The extra twenty minutes they had before the dinner went by fast along with the flow of their conversation, which never stopped, aside from some interjections by Boyd and Joanna. It was honestly refreshing for her. Before they knew it, the table was being set with colorful fruits and vegetables, arepas and other appetizers, an entire roast pig for the main course, and cholado for dessert. Normally Naela would be put off by the entire pig in front of her, but she hadn't eaten a full meal in the 36 hours it took to get there.

After giving each other a few quiet moments to eat, Pedro was the first to start up the conversation again with "So Naela," he washed down his last bite with a fruity cabernet, "Tell me about your family."

She took a deep breath, "I grew up in San Antonio. It's just me, my mom and my brother, Sebastian. He helps my mom run her restaurant.”

"You guys must be close. No boyfriend, then?" he mused.

"Yes, actually. He’s Josh." she laughed. "What about you?"

"It's just me and my siblings now." His response wasn't wounded, it was more accepting than anything.

"I'm sorry," she replied instinctively. "I don't know if I could recover from that. You were right about my family being close." She chuckled painfully.

"Thank you. They make it better...they really do." He took another greedy sip from his wine glass. "I had a feeling you were Lucia," he added.

"Is that so?" she replied sheepishly, trying to hide the blush creeping onto her cheeks again by looking down at the table.

"Mhm," he hummed confidently. "Listen, if at any point theres something that makes you uncomfortable, please tell me." He leaned in closer, making sure to look her in the eye as he said this.

She nodded, "Thank you, Pedro. I appreciate that." She wasn't sure if it was the wine or the company, but she could tell by the flushed feeling she had that her entire face was red. If Pedro noticed, he didn't say anything.

They continued talking as they waited for everyone to finish. Once conversation lulled and everyone was feeling even more tired from such a filling meal, the director stood at the end of the table to announce, “Alright, everyone...go get some sleep. Table reading is inside, tomorrow at 7 AM. It's gonna be a long day of reading but you'll live." A few actors chuckled but most did not. Naela stretched as she stood, she felt like she'd been sitting forever.

"Goodnight, Naela." Pedro stood too, and Naela had to fallow his eyes upward to maintain eye contact. She could feel a pit in her stomach form. Hm, didn't realize he was that tall.

"Night, Pedro..." She hesitated, smiled tiredly up at him, then finally turned to go back to her trailer. His eyes lingered for just a bit too long as she walked away, but eventually Boyd snapped him out of it by patting his back and saying his goodbyes as well.

It felt so fucking good to get ready for bed that night. She was in her comfortable clothes again at last and she was clean. She dimmed the lights and decided to scroll on social media for a bit. She came across an ad for Game of Thrones, and remembered Pedro had mentioned being in the previous seasons.

Needless to say, her curiosity got the best of her and she looked up "got pedro pascal scenes".

Holy shit.

This job just keeps getting harder and harder.

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