#javier peña oneshot | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thelastofhyde · 5 months

Text

you cut your hair, and take some space.

pairing. narcos!javier peña x fem!reader

synopsis. an anthology of events that precede and procede the termination of you and your father's best friend's sexual relationship. this is part 1 of 2 !

warnings. no use of y/n, age gap , student!reader, dbf!javi, post-s3!javi, officer!javi bc i said so, break up au, mutual pining, forbidden lovers kind of vibes, reader has a healthy relationship with her parents, so much crying ( reader spends half her time crying over javi p which is honestly a mood ), violence, undetailed depictions of sa ( not javi ), smut ( creampie, breeding kink through the roof, domesticity kink?? javi just wants to love and be loved and start a family, dacryphilia, indecent use of a credit card, spanking, dirty talk, prostitution kink?? i feel like i'm making these up at this point, + a hell of a lot more ) this fic is based on bsc by maisie peters except this has a happy ending bc im a sucker for mr. peña :( not all warnings listed here appear in this part, these are warnings for the fic as a whole !

word count. 15k

hyde’s input. this was written over the course of four months and could easily be used in court to prove i am, in fact, unequivocally in love with one mr. javier peña. if you take the time to read it, just know i appreciate it so much. i really poured my heart and soul into this and, as someone who's been writing for years, it's been so long since i've written something so self-indulgent that's brought me nothing but joy to write. as the fic has surpassed 30k words, meaning it would likely crash the tumblr site for anyone trying to read it, i've decided to post it in two parts. part two will be posted within the following weeks.

(it'a nearly 4 am as i post this, please look the other way at any typos or editing errors.)

“i told you, corazón mia (my heart),” he can't meet your eyes. “made it clear from the start i wasn't looking for anything serious.” “i know,” you heave in a breath, hold back a sob. “but if it wasn't serious, why'd you treat me like it was?”

I cut my nose to save some face You cut your hair and take some space.

The mirror is not clean enough to see yourself.

Where there are usually your eyes, there’s a discoloured splotch of brown. A crack runs down the left of what should be your face. Someone’s taken it upon themselves to draw a cartoon penis just where your mouth is. But in your drunken haze and laser focus, you don’t care enough to notice. All you see is the spot where your nose is, a tiny ball of silver nestled just above your right nostril.

It’s something new to fidget with.

On the flip side, it stings like a bitch. Or, more appropriately, like the tequila shots that led you to this run-down tattoo parlour.

You wonder if, come the morning and mental clarity, you’ll regret it.

If you do, you’ll blame him.

Your night was going fine. Good, even. And, with a lack of good nights in the recent week, that was an accomplishment.

You’d dressed up, let loose, had fun. A friend on either arm and a drink close at hand, you’d giggled and gossiped your way through this impromptu girls’ night.

They’d ambushed you, in a way, forced their way through the barricade of tissues and take-out boxes into your apartment. A skimpy dress tossed at your head and four hands dragging you, limb by limb, into the shower.

Get some dinner, hit the town, get fucked up. That was the plan they set out for you.

You skipped dinner, dove head-first into the town.

You were careful all night to never speak of him.

One part fearful it would summon him, another part embarrassed to admit just who you’d gotten tangled up in. A third part, tucked away in a locked closet, ready to do it all over again.

And then it happened.

You didn’t say his name, no.

Not aloud.

You thought it, for just a second, hearing the person beside you at the bar order the same drink you’d watched him nurse time after time. It wasn’t him but, instead, a man far too short and a clean-cut kind of handsome to even begin to compare to the ex-agent.

But it was enough to make you want to leave.

Giving up your space, you’d made your way back to your girls and made up some little white lie, surprised neither of them called you out on it- what kind of bar doesn’t have white wine?

They left to find someplace with wine, you left to find some peace of mind.

The bar they dragged you into was familiar, the setting of many of your father’s stories. It only took you walking through the door, tugging down the dress-too-short, to hear your name called across the floor.

“Hey kiddo!” Your dad’s a tell-tale kind of drunk, his eyes giving away even the smallest sip of alcohol he has. He was just tipsy, scooting his way out of a tattered booth to wrap you up in his arms. It felt as nice as it did guilt-inducing, knowing you’d been avoiding his calls all week since The Incident. A punishment to yourself more than one aimed at him. “You here yourself? Could join us for the night, if you like. Ain’t that right, boys?”

It was only then that you’d realised two men were sat within the booth, collars undone and ties loosened after a week’s work.

There were usually three of them.

"We’re just waiting on Peña." Oh god, it makes you feel sick. Heart in your throat, stomach at your feet. His name no longer feels real, not when spoken by anyone but you.

“And raising bets on his tardiness,” one of your father’s friends said. You recognised him from a few of the barbecues and Christmas parties your dad's thrown. He's nice, responsible. Married, to a woman his own age. “I’m saying he’s chasing some tail. God knows he could use some stress relief. Boy’s been wound up all week, nearly bit my head off for asking him about some files."

It’s a wonder none of the three men- one a retired lawyer, the other two members of the force- noticed the blood drain from your face.

“My guess is he’s pulled some muscle in his back and can’t get himself out of bed,” a nudge from your father’s elbow, delivered straight to your ribs. “Whatcha think, kiddo?”

You didn’t have an answer.

You didn’t get to give an answer.

“You need to quit speaking ‘bout me like you’re not a whole decade my senior, viejo (old man),” it came from behind you and threatened you to look. Like the foolish final-girl in a slasher, you ignored your basic instincts and glanced over your shoulder.

You’re not sure what you were expecting, but you know what you were hoping for.

Tired eyes, chewed lips, unkempt facial hair. A twitch of sadness drawn between his brows and the stains of cigarette ash on a worn-out suit.

Javier Peña was none of that.

The suit, grey. One that fit him all too well and had you wishing you could stain it with your drink.

The signature moustache, perfectly groomed, sitting perched above the bow of his pouty lips, rosy-red and fresh for picking.

His eyes have always given him away but, staring down at you in that moment, they read only as passive, unaffected.

It was like, nothing.

And, yes, that’s what you’d asked for- from now on, whenever you see me, can you at least pretend that none of this happened?

But he's smart enough to know you didn't mean it, right?

“Hey officers, sorry to interrupt but,” a hand curled around your arm. It tugged and you let yourself be inched away from heavy brown eyes and your father’s smile. “She’s ours for the night. We’re going clubbing!”

That was never part of the plan.

Neither was skipping dinner, though.

You caught the back of him as you were dragged away, some pleading from your father to take it easy and call me in the morning, and noticed it only then.

His hair, freshly cut.

“‘S getting too long,” a mumbled sort of thing, hidden in your neck, spoken against your pulse. A kiss placed upon it, and then another for extra measure. Fingers dragging through his hair, ridding him of the knots your very same hands had worked into them an hour of passionate touching ago. “Lo sé (I know).”

A pause of silence. The blissful moan birthed from nails on his scalp. And, then, “no. It’s nice, I like it.”

That puppy-dog stare, so particular to the cool-down moments between you, meets your own, chin propped up on your sternum. He’s sweet like this, honeyed skin and pleasant smiles.

“Yeah?” He asks, like he even needs to. “You like it, corazón (sweetheart)?” You opt for a hummed confirmation, finger tracing over the arch of his nose. “Guess I better keep it this way, then.”

Now he’s gone and chopped the overgrown curls off.

In a way, it feels like he’s cut you off with them.

We don’t speak cause it’s too tricky But if I’m tricky, why’d you kiss me?

The next time you see him, a wedding is taking place.

He sits on the groom’s side, you sit on the bride’s.

It feels unreasonable to be surprised by his presence. Why wouldn’t he be here, sitting four rows from the back, at his cousin’s brother-in-law’s wedding?

The bride is gorgeous, the groom is in tears. The priest drones on a little too long.

Somewhere between the exchanging of vows, and the ceremonial kissing, and the cheering of guests, your instincts get the better of you and you glance back at him.

He’s already staring right back, eyes ignited with something that weakens your knees and shakes your confidence. The newlyweds walk down the aisle, cut through your line of sight. He’s still staring at you when they’ve passed.

The reception takes place in the events room of some glammed-up hotel, the kind you can barely afford the one night you’re booked in for.

An open bar, a local band. The catering is tasteful, handpicked by the couple, and the table you feast at is so far away from his that you don’t get that chance to see if he chose the chicken or the beef.

You find a friend behind the bar, in the shape of a bottle and toothpick-impaled olives.

You dance till your feet hurt, slip away to your table, take off your heels. You’re back on the dance floor in time to catch the bouquet, too busy basking in the envy of the other women to notice his eyes burning a hole in the back of your head.

If it weren’t for the dent in your bank account made by the room you booked, you’d gladly dance away the whole night. But if a bed with a view costs double your rent, you’ll be damned if you don’t get to sleep in it.

So you stumble to the elevator.

Clutch your heels and flowers to your chest, struggle to remember your floor number. The fifth floor seems to ring a bell, but it might’ve been the eighth floor. Your room key! Maybe, you hope, that’ll have your floor number on it. You struggle with your purse’s zipper, trying your best to pry it open.

You succeed, but at what cost? Heels and bouquet tumble to the floor, thumping and clunking as they knock against it, flower petals falling loose.

You try to bend down, stretch your fingers out to grasp the clasps, seize the stems. A wave of exhaustion mixed with too much alcohol washes over you and you stand up straight again. Take a calming breath, do a little song and dance before reaching down again.

“Déjame. (Let me.)”

Scuffed shoes come into view as you’re halfway down, bent at the waist and holding your balance with one arm against a wall. You stand up straight, too fast, lose your balance and stumble forward.

He catches you.

For a moment, it feels like you’ve never left his arms.

“C’mon, let’s get you to your room.” You hate the way he ends his sentence, no term of endearment and no impure intentions.

He asks for your floor, you give him your key. He punches the number into the elevator and it shakes to life.

Neither one of you makes an attempt to part. There’s a chance he pulls you closer to him. You let yourself melt, regardless, muscles relaxing and sinking into his arms.

He’s still warm. He’s still steady. but his cologne’s different and it makes your eyes sting.

You’d warned him he was about to run out of his signature bottle, made a note to buy him another one for his birthday or Christmas, whichever came first.

“You look like you had fun,” he rasps out, eventually, as the elevator slips past the fifth floor.

“I did,” you tell a partial truth. You would have had more fun, if he’d stood at your side, ate at your table, danced in your arms. But you can’t say that, because he doesn’t want that.

“I’m glad.”

It turns out your floor is the ninth. He’s careful to guide you out the mobile-box, hand on your hip, pressing you to his side. Your heels dangling from one of his fingers and the bouquet gripped in his palm, smacking against his thigh every other step. A little down the hall and there you find it, your precious and expensive home for the night.

It’s easier to let him open the door, he tells you.

It’s easier to let him guide you to bed, you tell yourself.

Dropping the heels on the floor, he disappears out of your line of sight and you stare motionless at the ceiling above, buzzing in your brain and pain in your heart.

You’ve never shared a space like this with him, one that’s hollow and decayed. The shell of a creature that’s long abandoned it, grown too big for its home.

Your eyes sting all over again, this time enough to brim with unfallen tears.

A thud against the nightstand.

You roll onto your side and find he’s still here, a glass of water and some painkillers lay to rest at your bedside. The first tear gives way, running down your cheek and dropping to the crisp white sheets below. Even more fall as he raises a damp cloth to your face, wiping away smudged mascara and bringing your lips back to their natural colour.

The undressing is gentle and so unlike his usual impatience.

Fingertips drag down each inch of skin released as he unzips the back of your dress, tugging it down and folding it by your heels. The weight off your chest helps you breathe as he unhooks your bra. Left only in your underwear, the sheets ruffle as he drags them up your tired limbs and tucks them under your chin.

“Get in bed, please,” you plead like you have any right to ask that of him. “Javi.”

It’s the first time you’ve said his name since that night in May. His shoulders tense and release, his fingers smooth down his moustache. He looks like he’s going to fulfil your request, slip in behind you and wrap you up in his soft but steady embrace.

He looks like he wants to.

His back cracks as he bends down and presses a kiss.

Against your forehead, lips that linger.

Then, he stands up straight and walks out the door.

On the forehead, way up north Pressed the scar and found the source

Vermont, ‘98.

That’s where it all began.

Your dad, turning fifty.

Javi just hit forty.

It was someone in the station who had the wild idea they celebrate it together. The sheriff and the station’s rookie- really, a hardened, inching-out-of-a-fresh-retirement former DEA agent your father manipulated back into the force, some promise of a light workload and a hefty pension. With no need for money, you wonder why he ever accepted the offer.

Plans were set, money was put in a pot, and a wheel of fortune was spun. It landed on the northern state, a downpayment to rent a ski lodge placed within a matter of twenty-four hours.

Somewhere along the way, you’d been roped into joining this boys-only trip. Your dad argued you needed a break from studying. Your mother argued there needed to be a responsible adult to supervise your dad. and, well, a free holiday never hurt nobody, right?

Wrong.

The final evening, with a constant pounding of a hangover never-quite-nursed, a litter of bruises down your back from falling and a firmly closed chapter on any possible career as a ski prodigy you may have had, you trailed your way down to the only bar in the tiny ski town.

Textbooks on the table, glasses on your face.

A half-drank glass of cabernet, an empty plate.

Peaceful and quaint, until it wasn’t.

The cheer of a frat-boy out in the wild warrants the same response as hearing a lion’s roar in the dark of the Saharan night.

The kind you hear them before you see them, spilling through the door in their obnoxious jerseys and their face-painted cheeks. one wore the badge of honour, a giant Soon To Be shackled Married printed poorly onto the back of his jersey.

You put your head down, breathed more subtly.

The pride stormed their way over to the bar, pounding their fists onto the surface and gnashing their teeth, spit spilling down their mouth as they brutally tore into the bartender, demanding pints of beer and rounds of shots.

The key was to avoid eye contact, keep low and out of sight.

They dispersed through the area, sniffing out free booths and the occasional local to irritate out of their seats.

One of them found the jukebox and wasted his coin on blasting Pour Some Sugar On Me. The group of older women playing bingo scowled and made their way out of the joint, calling it for the night.

You got up to follow suit, hands slowly packing up your belongings and slinging your bag over your back.

Inching towards the exit, footsteps light as a feather.

“Woo! Look at you,” just as you were close to slipping out the door, a single member of the pack spotted you, prowling his way over. He already had his chest puffed out by the time you turned around. “Ain’t seen an ass like that since we left the city!”

Hardly charming. Tame, compared to other things frat boys have said to you.

“Why don’cha come join me and my buddies over there?” He nodded back at them, like they weren’t the obnoxious centres of everyone’s attention.

You were not scared of him, exactly. But you’ve seen where things can go. Heard about it, countless times, from your own father.

So you spoke with caution, gripping your bag a little tighter, “thanks, but I’ve got an early flight. Have a nice night-” He told you his name, like you cared. “Yeah, thanks, bye.”

And then you were stepping out into the quiet of the night.

Fresh air, cold enough to sting your lungs. You breathed it in like it was going out of fashion.

You barely got a moment to compose yourself before that grating voice was back in your ears.

“Oh don’t be a buzzkill!” He whined, you cringed. Took a step back, watched him move an inch. “It’s early, stay. Have a drink.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

“To have fun?! C’mon, it’s too cold to be out here by yourself.”

“I have an early flight.”

“It’s just one drink, sweetheart. I ain’t asking you to sign your life away.”

A couple bumped past you both, weaved their way between you. His eyes trailed after them, your feet twisted around, carrying you away from him slowly, carefully. Best not to make yourself look like prey, not to this predator.

“Hey!” He called after you. Your steps sped up. “Where you going, sweetheart?”

It didn’t even matter that you were walking in the opposite direction of the ski lodge. You told yourself you would find your way back, once this lion was off your back.

“I ain’t done talkin’ to you!”

The lion pounced, sank his claws into your back and ripped through you.

Your hand flew out to break your fall, the contents of your bag spilling out onto the sidewalk.

Pain, the kind that stings. It nipped at your knees, and your hands, and your eyes. Pushed it down, pulled yourself up.

He froze, maybe surprised at his own actions, maybe waiting on the chance to pounce once more, this time with his fangs instead of his claws.

You wouldn’t give him the chance. Filled your bag, collected your senses and ran.

It was tricky on frozen ground, trying so hard to not look back.

He followed and you knew it, heard it. Roaring and growling, chasing you down streets you’d never walked.

You slipped, momentarily, slammed into a wall. A crossroads, go right or go left.

You don’t remember which direction you turned.

“Quit running, you bitch!”

He was still following, how was he still following?

Caving in, you glanced over your shoulder and saw the blurry figure of him running after you.

He was getting faster. Maybe you were getting slower.

You came to a screeching halt, body smacking into something solid. Eyes shut, mind alive. You feared the worst, hoped for the best, expected to open your eyes and find yourself trapped in a dead-end, nowhere to run from this predator.

Instead, you heard your name. Called softly, at first. Gentle, coaxing you to pay attention. The second time it was more urgent, worried and aggressive. You sank deeper into the wall, felt your feet shuffle on the gravel below.

“...Gotta let me know, nena,” the wall pulled you back from it, a firm grasp on your forearms. Your eyes opened and met his. “Fucking Christ, look at the state of you.”

You’d not known much about Javier Peña at the start of the trip.

Your dad had mentioned something about a family ranch. Your mom let it slip that he’d enjoyed the pumpkin pie she’d brought to the station’s Thanksgiving feast.

There’d been one time you’d caught the end of a conversation between him and your dad. Nothing concrete, just some shameful mutterings about Colombia and Los Pepes. You’d left once you heard your dad start to comfort the man, deciding your intruding on the moment had already gone too far.

You now knew he liked his whiskey, no ice. His coffee, no milk. His bread, no butter.

He didn’t like the mess of mixing things, and you had to wonder if it had always been this way. Or had he learned his lesson, the hard way? Mixed the wrong things, burnt his own blessings?

“You’re bleeding,” he announced it, fresh news for you.

A pleasant warmth thrummed through your veins as he took hold of your hand, inspecting it under his scrutiny.

His thumb swiped over your palm.

Your mouth winced, your arm pulled back.

He held you in place.

Something visceral shifted in him, enough to coax you to glance at him.

He was looking past you, eyes a deadly killer stalking their prey. You followed their line of sight and found the lion at the end of the street. Standing still, arms at his side, eyes a little wider than you remembered them. You’d not really been looking, in the first place.

The former agent twisted you behind him, an effortless shield. Took an urgent step toward the frat boy, and then another three.

You grasped at his sleeve and tugged him back, didn’t let him stray too far.

“I’m fine,” you lied. He didn’t believe you, furrowing his brow. “I’m just cold.”

He seemed to hesitate, softened by a tremble in your voice.

He glanced back to see the lion was retreating, staggering his way back to the pride of frat boys. A perfect opportunity for him to attack, from behind and unexpectedly.

“Leave it, he’s not-” The sting in your eye got the best of you and a tear tracked itself down your cheek. You wiped it away with your scraped hand, leaving behind a smear of gravel and blood. “It’s not worth it.”

You said it not for the agent’s sake, but the boy’s.

The agent puffed out a breath of frustration, then followed your plea. Turned back to you, licked his thumb and swiped off the dirt on your cheek. Pulled you in, against him once more, and pressed a deliberate kiss against your forehead.

It was instinctual, no thought placed behind his action.

He did it because that seemed to be in his nature: to nurture.

“C’mon, the lodge is this way,” he pointed in some direction.

You didn’t bother paying attention, more than willing to follow wherever he led.

“Put this on.” It was not posed as an option, not when the agent tugged off his coat and draped it over your shoulders.

Somewhere along the path, you realised you’d lost your key to your cabin. Your dad carried the other.

Officer Peña offered to take you to him, drinking down in the ski lodge’s bar with the rest of the men.

You shook your head, told him your dad couldn’t see you in that state.

He took you back to his own cabin instead.

Cleaned up your hands, put on the fire, poured you a drink.

Then fucked you into his bed, till you clawed and sobbed around him.

If you don’t love me, Why’d you act it?

Late june brings nothing but gloom.

You get bored quick, no college to fill your days. Pick up extra shifts, hope to combat the empty feeling in your chest with the rush hour traffic that torpedoes it’s way through the cafe.

Friends invite you out, you rarely go. They tease you’re becoming a recluse, and that just makes you want to shut yourself in even more.

Tonight, you’re appeasing them.

Some line dance event, downtown in a bar that’s only gimmick seems to be a worn-down mechanical bull. It’s missing a horn and no one seems to know why.

Truth be told, you don’t want to go.

You want to stuff your face with take-out while you melt into your couch, watching reruns of the first season of Friends and drooling over Joey till you forget about another smooth-talking, raven haired man.

Here you are instead, fighting against the cheesy cowgirl hat till it sits on your head correctly.

In the mirror, it’s still lopsided.

The clock sits at eight forty-seven.

They’re 2 minutes late.

You give up, decide to pretend you want the hat this way. Slip on your jacket, do a sweep around your apartment: windows locked, flat iron off, fridge closed. Grabbing your purse, you unzip it and wrestle around in it’s contents, searching for your keys.

You pull on something and- it’s a pack a gum.

Dive back in, search again.

An empty tube of lipbalm.

Third time’s a charm, you think, and try once more. Something scratches your fingers, coaxes you to tug it out and inspect it.

A broken earring.

A familiar car honk’s outside, you stay frozen in place, staring at the broken hoop and counting one, two, three.

Bile burns the back of your throat.

He opens on the fifth knock.

Any other night, he practically rips the door off it’s hinges and tugs you in, before you can so much as raise your fist for a second knock.

Maybe he was busy, on the toilet or on the phone. You don’t think too much into it.

He steps aside, lets you in. Stands so far away, it’s hard to read his eyes.

The air’s uncomfortably quiet.

You think’s it’s all in your head, self-doubt at an all time high after a bad day.

“My earring snapped today,” there’s a growing pit in your stomach, just from staring at him. He looks so distant, not present. Mind a galaxy away. "Your favourite ones, too. You know, the little hoops with-”

“The hearts dangling from them.” He finishes, on your behalf, and it’s the first green flag you see. Green enough to lull yourself into a faux calm.

The silence returns.

You rock backwards on your heels, glance around the apartment. Try to find what has changed, because this no longer feels like the place you’ve grown so familiar with. And neither does the man observing you from a distance, hands glued to his sides.

He should be touching you by now, in any way he could: his foot bumping against yours under his dining table, his hand trailing patterns over your shoulders as you settle into his side on the couch, his tongue delving between your folds as you lay splayed out on his sheets.

You notice his bedroom door is shut.

It’s never been shut before.

“Is- Am I-” You don’t have to find the words, but the courage to speak them. “Do you have someone over?”

He blinks, slowly.

It’s hard to tell if it’s from guilt.

“Because if you do, that’s fine!” It’s not. “I understand,” You don’t.

He doesn’t answer.

You keep talking.

“Totally chill, I’ll comeback some other night. Or, you can just come by mine! Yeah, actually, that sounds better. Won’t risk interrupting again-”

“This needs to stop.”

You don’t have to question it.

You do, anyway.

“What?”

“Us. This-” He’s pointing between you both, a little haphazardly. It’s like he’s rushing to get the words out, get it over with. Get you out his apartment. “Thing we’re doing. It’s done.”

“I don’t underst-”

He cuts you off with your name. “Why’d you come here tonight?”

He’s stern.

Not in the way that makes you want to bend to his will and indulge in all his sins. But in a way that makes you feel dirty, wrong. A child scorned for touching fire and getting themselves burnt.

“I,” you’re beginning to wish there was someone else in his bed, so she could stroll out of his room in one of his stupidly soft shirts and interrupt this conversation. “Uh, I had a bad day.”

“Okay,” he nods. Smooths a hands over his chin, pops out his hip. “What’s that got anything to do with me?”

Everything, you want to tell him.

For every single thing that went wrong throughout your day, seeing Javi gave you something to look forward to.

“I just thought-”

“You thought, what?” His face twists up, just like your insides. He’s angry and you’re the one to blame. “This isn’t a- I’m not your boyfriend.”

I know, you mouth.

Because you do know. Repeat it to yourself all the time.

When he calls to make sure you got home safe.

When you sneak off to pee in the middle of the night and are welcomed back to bed with a forceful tug into his chest, a sleepy, gruffed out ‘where’d you go?’ whispered into your neck.

When he picks up on the things you say, remembers silly things like your favourite toilet paper brand and the exact milk to cereal ratio you enjoy.

Javier Peña is not your boyfriend.

So why does he act like it?

“Look, kid, you’re young, and I know-”

Kid.

That makes you angry.

He wasn’t calling you kid when he bent you over your parents’ bathroom counter.

“Don’t call me kid.”

“And I know,” he pushes through your protest, keeps up the distance. “This can be a lot at your age. Don’t blame you for getting caught up. But whatever you think you’re feeling for me, it’s not-”

“Is this about the p-” The word won’t come out of you, so your change the verbiage. “The hospital? Because I told you, Javi. We’ve been safe. Safer than a pair of purity-ring wearing teenagers-”

“No, this is about me needing to do the right-”

At this point, you’re just interrupting one another.

Fighting to get in the next word, frowning at what you do hear.

He tilts his head back and pinches the bridge of his nose, a groan leaving his cracked lips. You’d imagined him doing that tonight, but not like this.

Eventually, the back-and-forth stops.

Silence.

You take the lead.

“So, what? That’s it just... over?”

“I told you, corazón mía (my heart),” he can’t meet your eyes. “Made it clear from the start I wasn’t looking for anything serious.”

“I know,” you heave in a breath, hold back a sob. “But if it wasn’t serious, why’d you treat me like it was?”

It takes him a few minutes to answer. There’s a twitch, in his hand, reaching up only to drop back down at his side.

Usually, he wipes your tears before they get chance to fall.

The rug at your feet turns darker with each wet spot that drops.

“I got caught up,” his eyes seem so sad, so lost. Staring across the ocean of his living room, searching for a lighthouse to pull him safe to shore. But he won’t let you be that. “In the way you deserve to be treated, instead of some sleazy secret.”

He breathes out your name, the most painful melody you’ve ever heard.

“This has to end,” you’re unsure if it’s only you he’s attempting to convince. “Before someone gets hurt.”

Too late, you want to say.

You’re already being torn apart by his hands, and he’s standing ten feet away.

“Corazón, I’m so sor-”

The car honks, again.

You breathe in, and find it’s hard, snot piling up in your nose and tears splashing down your cheers.

Another honk.

You never make it to the line dance.

You curl in on yourself, instead, and fall asleep to the sound of Joey and Chandler’s bickering.

Love’s a verb And not a bandage

In retrospect, it’s hard to tell where the lines begin to blur.

A promise of casual, turned into something fragile.

Whenever you think about it, for too long, your mind carries you back to the same night. A few months after Vermont, you don’t recall the exact date.

All you remember is a pounding at your front door.

1 am. Too late to be causing ruckus.

You nearly trip over discarded shoes, curse earlier-you for assuming you would remember their existence. Undo the bolt, grab the key and then-

Pause.

This could be anyone, anything.

You check the peephole, find exactly who you were hoping for.

He’s on you like a moth to a flame, pressing you flush against him the instant he can fit through the crack in your doorway. Mouth on mouth, hands on waist. The door thuds as he closes it behind you both, you’re too distracted to notice.

You let him invade your senses.

Smell his aged leather and nicotine thrill. Feel his strong arms and bulging crotch. Hear his laboured breaths and muttered pleasantries. Taste his whiskey tongue and metallic lips-

You pull back. He follows.

It’s flattering, his inability to get enough of you, but you halt him nonetheless.

Cup his cheeks, pull down his face, and stare.

“My dad finally figure out who those panties in your glove-box belong to, Peña?” It’s meant to be a joke.

There’s nothing funny about his bleeding lip and split eyebrow.

He graces no response, dives back into you and submerses himself in your touch. Kisses you slow, with deliverance, his final mission to arrest all your sense of self till you turn yourself in to his embrace.

Only as you pass by those discarded shoes do you realise he’s inching you both deeper into the dark of your apartment.

This time, you do trip over them.

It’s okay though, Javi’s there to catch you.

He finds refuge in your neck, burrowing in deep, mouthing at the skin like a dog does a wound. Your arm shoots out to find a light-switch. A warm glow fills the apartment, bathing you both in an orange hue.

The gold of his skin shines brighter.

The red on his skin appears darker.

“What happened to you?” You don’t need to worry about him. And, yet, doing so comes naturally.

“S’not important,” it’s spoken against your skin, as if he intends to seep his gravelled tone into your pores and have it grow a new life for itself within you. A gentle scraping of his teeth sends a shiver down your spine. “I’ll tell you later.”

Later with Javi never seems to come.

‘If you’re not busy, I’ll make you dinner later.’

‘Keep it up and I’ll be fucking that attitude out of you later.’

‘I’ll get these back to you later.’

He’d never made you that dinner.

He’d dragged you into the station’s bathrooms and fucked the attitude out of you only seconds after.

You’d never gotten those panties back.

You decide to grant him no time for later. Shove him down into a seat at your dining table-for-two. Roll your eyes as he asks if you’re “gonna put on a show for me, corazón?”

The makeshift first-aid kit put together by your mother resides at the back of a cupboard, hidden by mugs and cups. It takes several minutes and a smashed glass to manoeuvre it out. You step over the pieces of glass and head straight back to the table, dumping out the contents.

You click your tongue, point your finger. He scoots the chair back from the table and you slip between the space. Press back against the surface, stand between his parted knees and do your best to not look down at the jeans that grant him no modesty.

Distractions are not welcomed, your patient needs tending to.

He’s insisting he’s okay, yet he’s hissing when you dab at the tears in his flesh with betadine. His hands find a place upon your hips and give a tight squeeze as you press butterfly stitches to his no-longer bleeding brow.

“I,” he starts up, an indefinite time of silence passing between you both. He shakes his head.“It’s stupid.”

“Javi,” you stroke your finger over his jaw, tilt his head back to meet your eyes. “The less you tell me, the more I’ll worry.”

It does the trick, unlocks his tongue.

“I was just wanting one drink, was gonna head home... Or to you, after. I had a shitty day at work and... You probably don’t care about that,” he has no idea you’ll hang onto those words for the weeks to come, wondering how to lighten his workload, ease his tension. “Heard some loud-mouth kid beside me at the bar, he was talking to this girl. She gets up to leave, he follows. I was just gonna go back to nursing my drink but-”

He hisses.

You’re pressing too hard on his fragile lip.

There’s no malice in his eyes as you pull your hand back, only soft and tender. He must sense your remorse for hurting him, chasing after your fingers and grazing a gentle kiss upon them.

A splotch of red stains your skin.

“Corazón,” he croons, shifts himself closer to you. His hands grip the backs of your exposed thighs, his chin presses into your lower stomach. A few movie-strand hairs cover the molten brown eyes that stare up at you. “You’re exhausted. Vamos, basta de preocuparte (C'mon, stop worrying), I’m fine. I just wanna crawl into your tiny bed so I can wake up to your bedhead and more back pains.”

It’s a tempting offer, and one you’ve given into far too many times acceptable for the casual agreement you both share.

A deep breath. Your hand lands on his cheek, his eyes flutter shut.

There’s bags under them. Heavy, dark. Bearing the exhaustion he hides behind charming winks and dashing smiles. Your thumb grazes over one and you ache to give him the rest he deserves, the rest his body craves.

“But, what?” You persist, pleading for him to continue his story.

Javi sighs, gives in.

He always gives in, to you, eventually.

“I just- I don’t know, it’s crazy, but I kept thinking of you,” his eyes reopen, sorrow buried deep in his soul and a worry-line etched into his brow. “In that bar. Alone, in Vermont, when you...”

He doesn’t finish his sentence.

He doesn’t need to.

“So what did you do?” It’s best to keep him talking, drag his mind away from whatever dark thoughts those memories bring up.

“I followed them outside,” he admits with a tinge of shame. “Tried to be subtle about it. Lit a cigarette, took a few drags, scoped out the street. Neither of them were around,” you’ve long abandoned the first aid kit, transfixed by the tight grip he holds you in, his hands smoothing up and down the backs of your thighs in an attempt to soothe himself. “I thought I’d maybe read into it wrong. Maybe she was into him, and they’d got a cab back to her place. Or his.”

He’s rambling.

Stumbling through words he deems unimportant, rushing to push out the thoughts that clog up his brain pipes.

You listen closely, swallow up every morsel he offers.

“It was just as I turned to go back inside that I heard something,” his hands no longer dance over your skin. They sit stagnant, halfway up your thigh, fingers flexed and nails digging into flesh. He’s burying himself into any part of you he can, rooting himself in your solid figure. “Rustling, or something. Coming from the alley. And I just... I felt my stomach drop. Followed after it. Found them, him-”

He chokes.

On his words, on his breath, on his failure.

You run a hand through his curls, soothe the lines off his face.

Bend down, drag him up, press your lips to the arc of his nose.

“Didn’t think, I just dragged him off. Punched him, a few times. Felt his nose crack under my fist.” He’s still pushing through, his earlier unwillingness to talk now a streaming fountain you can’t switch off. “I must’ve tripped on some glass, lost my balance. Gave him the space to get a few hits in, and-”

“Did you arrest him?” You cut him off.

He nods.

“Did you help her?”

Another nod.

“Did you get her someplace safe?”

This time, a reply.

“An officer checked her in at the hospital, stayed till her friend arrived.”

“Then Javi,” you make a point of saying his name, remind him of who he is when he’s not on duty. Not parading around with a badge and a gun, and answering to Officer Peña. The shift in his stare tells you it helps. “You did enough.”

A weight slips off his shoulders and he slumps further into you, eyes squeezing shut.

“I didn’t,” frustration steals the show, coursing through his voice.

“What more could you have done?”

“I don’t know... I could’ve-” He groans, like something pains him, and purses his lips. “I should’ve helped her sooner. Followed them, the minute they left. Shouldn’t have let...” A whiff of whiskey reaches your nostrils. Javi pulls you in tighter, breathes in the mixture of sleep-sweat and lingering cologne on the shirt you wear- Pink, the top buttons undone, left behind by him. “Shouldn’t have let you go out alone.”

You whine out his name.

The air is miserable, dragging through your lungs and staining them.

The chair creeks at the loss of his weight, knees straightening him up to his full height. Instinctually, you lean back into the table, head tilting to meet his broken eyes.

He’s searching for comfort, in the only way he knows how.

Slap a bandage over a bullet-hole, place a kiss upon his gaping-heart.

“Not everything about that night was so bad,” you play into his game, splay a hand upon his shirt. Trace a finger over a stained blood spot. “If I hadn’t gone out, then maybe we wouldn’t be...”

The words catch in your throat.

Partially because you don’t know what you are anymore. Boundaries crossed, lines blurring. Hands that hold and eyes that linger. Too close to be nothing, too reckless to be something.

But mostly because he kisses you.

Desperate, hungry. Groaning into your willing mouth.

He’s a man on a mission, to consume your soul right out your willing body. Unravelling you where you stand, he takes pleasure in peeling his shirt off you.

Hot mouth to hot skin, the tip of his tongue meeting the peak of your breasts. Your hands pull at his hair and he grips at your waist.

The descent into madness is quick, bodies melting together in a dance that’s unique, improvised, and yet always in sync.

He tugs at your panties and you undo his belt. He hooks your thigh over his hip and you anchor yourself to his chest. He teases you with a pinch to your clit and you torture him as you cup his heavy balls.

When Javi fucks you, he fucks with purpose.

The table thuds and scrapes along the floor with each punctuated thrust he gives, driving his cock deeper and deeper into your welcoming cunt, the coarse hairs at its base gifting you the occasional thrill of friction on your aching clit.

He’s slurring out curses and pet-names, lavishing you with delightful proclaims of what a pretty girl you are when you 'shut up and take my cock'.

When he does manage a full sentence of logical wording, his forehead’s pressed to your shoulder, his cum coats your thighs and the sweat between your frantic bodies holds you both together.

“There’s not a universe where this doesn’t happen, corazón,” you feel him softening against your thigh, yet you still delight as he drags a finger coated in his own spend up your folds. “Want you too damn much to miss out on you.”

Curling up into your bed that feels too big these days, you grip at the pink shirt and wonder when that changed.

When did Javier Peña stop wanting you?

And I’m spiritual cleansing (but the truth) Is I’m good at pretending (oh and you)

By July, things change.

The stud in your nose is traded out for a silver ring.

The lonely nights in your apartment turn into stumbling back home from some nameless club in the early hours.

Boredom leads to hobbies.

At first, you try pottery.

Four plates broken and a crumbled mug later, you put on your dance shoes.

Slip. Almost break your arm. Wrestle with the doom placed on your budding dance career. Throw out the dancing shoes, bring home running shoes.

You hate it, running.

You sweat, you ache, you exhaust.

But when you’re gasping for a breath and your feet pound into concrete ground, you don’t think about it.

The heartache.

The headache.

The agent.

You drop a few pounds, tone up your muscles. Watch your body’s shape outgrow your wardrobe, investing in a new one while clinging onto the items you love too much to lose.

Like the dress that now rests just below your ass, instead of it’s usual place mid-thigh. Or the sweater that once hung loose, that now hugs new curves and creases. The jeans that were tight now sliding off your hips.

The pink shirt still lives on one of your hangers.

But you’re not thinking about it, or it’s previous owner.

Not right now.

Now, you’re balling your fists and counting your breaths. Music blasting through your headphones, sweat dancing on your forehead.

The sun is warm on your back, even as it makes way for night to begin. This is the best time to run, dusk, you’ve discovered.

No kids loitering on park grounds, no threat brought on by the dark, no slow-walking pedestrians crossing your path.

You run your self-made circuit with freedom, switching off all your senses and emptying your mind.

Today, however, it’s more challenging.

The thought of him creeps through, no matter the effort you put in to fight it. Your father’s the one to blame.

You have to come, kiddo.

The phone-call still echos through your thoughts.

Because it wouldn’t be the same without you there.

You’d wanted a better explanation than that.

Then, you tried some lame excuse of already having plans.

You had no plans.

Bring your friends then! The more the merrier!

You nearly groaned out loud at his enthusiasm, but held back. Your father’s light didn’t deserve to be dampened by your shadow.

C’mon, kiddo! I’ve not hosted the annual barbecue since you were still wearing your braces!

You bit your tongue. Fought against telling him that, back then, there were no pretty-eyed, heart-breaking agents for you to worry about.

The whole station’s gonna be there, you have to come!

He said it, like that would persuade you.

Keep asking about ya, the whole lot of them.

The more he spoke, the less you wanted to go.

Just last night Javi was asking how you’re doing!

You’d hung up.

Immediately.

Called back, 3 minutes later. Mumbled an apology and an excuse- I lost signal!- and ultimately agreed to going to the damn barbecue.

Now, you run from the phone call, from the impending doom it brings.

All this heartache and pain, it’s not good for the soul.

Of course, being dumped is a lot easier when the person isn’t your dad’s closest confidant.

It gets hard to breath. Each pound against concrete shakes the cassette player glued to your hip. There’s a sting of tears in your eyes.

Until you come to a screeching halt.

Double over.

Place your hands on your knees.

Dry heave.

You pay no mind to the figure sitting a few feet away on a bench.

Nor to the dog that’s chasing it’s ball back forth between it’s owner’s throws.

You let the sadness flood your soul, deflate you like some discarded party-balloon.

You’ll have to see him.

Spend time near him.

Watch him laugh, and smile, and share beers with your father.

It’s unfair, and you hate him for putting you through this.

For not quitting the force.

For being your dad’s friend.

For not wanting you the same you wanted him.

Want him.

You wipe your face with the back of your hand. Try to stand up straight, get lost in the knots you’d tied into your laces. Sloppy and uneven.

You’re usually more careful.

You catch, in your peripheral, the figure on the bench move. Take it as your sign to compose yourself, get over yourself.

You pick your pace back up.

Manage only a handful-or-two steps.

Your feet fly out in front of you.

Land ass-first on the gravel below.

Beneath the sounds of Olivia Newton-John demanding you get physical, you hear a muffled sorry! yelled out. Spot as the dog rushes to grab it’s ball, halfway down the path thanks to your kick.

You groan and prepare to get back on your feet.

You’re met with a hand in your face, palm open and waiting for you to accept the open offer. You take it, no hesitation.

Big mistake.

The hand tugs you.

You glance up.

And meet the eyes of Javier Peña.

“Easy, tiger,” he coughs up a laugh, like you don’t wind him as you slam into him, full-body force, nerves on fire and all systems shutting down. “You trying to break my ribs?”

It’s no less than you deserves, you think.

And instantly regret it, heart turning blue at the thought of him hurt at your hand.

You take a few steps back, create a safe distance where you can’t smell the remnants of his last cigarette or count the eyelashes that line his eyes.

He asks you how you’ve been, and tries his best to smile.

It comes off as awkward. A crooked line across his lips.

You try to remember the last time he smiled at you and meant it.

You come up empty handed.

Maybe it was back in April. A hospital hallway, one hand clasping yours, the other peeling through the leafs of some medical pamphlet.

Or, was it after, on the drive home, back to his apartment, hand still holding yours while the other spun the wheel?

There’s a vague memory that toils in the depth of your mind.

Sharing an elevator, your heels in his hand, his lips on your forehead.

Wedding attire, a post-party glow.

It’s toyed with you since you woke up in that hotel room, driven half-mad by an image you can’t quite form of him tucking you into bed.

Had he smiled, then?

Had he even been there?

Or was he merely a product of martinis and negronnis-

His fingers grasp your chin, no warning, and tilt your face.

His eyes don’t greet your own. Instead, they’re focused on the centre of your face, inspecting you like a piece of evidence.

“Hmm,” he’s so close, you smell the mint of freshly bitten gum on his breath. Dart your eyes down, catch the glint of his badge poking out his pocket.

He’s still on duty, a tailored uniform contrasting the hair roused by stress. Maybe at his desk, in the office next to your father’s, hands running through his tresses to express frustrations, tensions.

Were they his own hands, or someone with longer, brightly painted nails? Your stomach turns at the thought, your loins warm at the memory of writhing in his desk chair, legs thrown over his shoulders whilst his own dug into the ground below, eager to please mouth and a happy to taste tongue working you to a orgasm muffled by your own hand.

He’d slapped your ass, kissed your cheek and sent you out his office door, wiping your own wetness off your cheek just in time to greet your father.

“You suit the ring,” his voice and a gentle breeze bring you back to the present. To the park. To the heavy feeling that hangs between you both. “I prefer it to that stud.”

“I- What?” Confussion.

You furrow your brow, wipe your sweaty palms over your thighs.

He just smiles, still crookedly, and brings his hand up to your nose.

Adjusts your piercing, swipes his thumb over your cheek.

It’s hard to breath, but you do it anyway.

Thank him, in a struggle to find your voice, with a whisper.

His eyes bore into your own, chase them as you look off to the side, watch the dog still chasing it’s ball and failing to catch it.

You wonder if it’s a cruel metaphor sent by the universe, a symbol of you and Javi.

And then you wonder if you’re the dog or the ball.

Or both.

“You never answered me,” his voice, honey, sweet on your ears. It melts away your other senses, turns you blind to anything other than him. “I want to hear how you’ve be-”

“Peña, if you don’t report your skinny ass to my office in 5 minutes and share a celebratory drink with me, I’m putting you on cleaning duties at our next poker night.”

A static-filled voice blares out his walkie-talkie.

Your father’s voice.

It’s enough to set things right, force your body to retreat from his.

He’s not your Javi anymore, desperate to hear about your day and kiss any aches away.

He’s Peña, your dad’s best friend, meant for nothing more than to be a passing figure in your life.

His eyes are heavy with emotion as he fishes out the device.

Maybe it’s sadness you see.

There’s definitely remorse.

Guilt, too.

“We... Your dad caught the guy that’s been breaking into college girls’ apartments.” He tells you, shares information that should help you sleep better at night. You’ve not done that since the last time he lay next to you. You watch him press down on the call button, hold the speaker up to his mouth. “Do that and I’ll shit in your shower, pendejo (asshole).”

It wouldn’t be the first time he’d commit an indecency within your parent’s bathroom.

But none of that matter, anymore.

You’re already walking away.

Wringing your hands and hoping the tension in your limbs falls out.

He calls out your name, loudly.

Attracts the nosy eyes of people around.

People who know fine well who your father is, who Javier is.

You turn in time to see him half-jog, half-pace his way over to you.

He reaches out for your hand.

And quickly gives up on the thought of holding it.

“I’ll, um,” his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, grinds his teeth in an attempt to say something. “I’ll see you at the barbecue, right?”

He knows the answer.

You still give him it, “yes.”

Smile, uncomfortably brightly, before you turn and walk away once more.

You feel his eyes on you.

And pray he takes no notice of the sob that shakes your shoulders.

Broke me big time It’s funny and I’m laughing baby You think I’m alright

You’re laughing but it’s mostly fake.

A courtesy, a polite gesture. A signal that you’re still listening, despite tuning out her voice five minutes ago.

She’s a nice lady, someone who works alongside your father. Specialised in forensics, she balances the darkness of her job with the brightness of her wardrobe.

Today, she’s paired a lemon-yellow skirt with a vibrantly orange camisole. She looks like a walking cheese cube.

You’ve known her since you were a kid, even if you can’t remember. She claims you used to stand on her desk, make a big spectacle out of nearly matching your dad’s height.

You’d got to talking to her after she helped you wipe ketchup off your chin.

That was half an hour ago, and the discomfort of wanting to be anywhere but here is finally settling in.

It’s not her fault. You know.

She’s not the one who roped you into going to this barbecue.

Your dad is.

And right now he’s stood on the other side of his backyard, half-drunken beer bottle in one hand and Javier Peña’s shoulder clapped under the other.

Even from here, you can hear him bragging.

So then Peña’s on his ass.

Chases this guy, whilst he’s driving down the street!

Catches him at an intersection, physically rips him out the car.

All while the man in question shrugs, sheepish. Dismisses your father’s praising.

He’s exaggerating.

The guy was barely going 5 miles an hour!

He stepped out the vehicle at his own will.

Sweat lines his forehead, shirt-sleeves hug his biceps, joy wrinkles his eyes.

He’s happy, at ease. Enjoying himself, in a way he was always meant to.

Something about him fits so perfectly in this picture: laughing with your father, complimenting your mother, playing fetch with your dog.

If you step inside the frame, it cracks.

Shatters.

And maybe he knows that.

Knew it all along.

Broke things off before you could try find a frame large enough to fit you all in.

And, though it hurts, you see why things had to end between you and feel relieved it happened before it was too late.

The feeling lasts all but four seconds.

“Kiddo!”

Your father’s voice is obnoxiously loud. Several of the party-goers turn their heads, follow his line of sight. Spot you, frozen in place, glass full of watered down lemonade and a belly full of dread.

It takes a moment, but you wave.

“Come over ‘ere!”

Not the response you were hoping for.

Still, you do as he asks. Smile at your mother, shuffle your feet, make your way across the yard. Do everything in your power to not look at Javi.

Even if the weight of his stare threatens to crumble you.

“You having a good time?” Your dad’s got this smile, big and dopy and oh so caring, that you can’t bring yourself to ruin with the truth.

“I’m having a great time,” you barely manage out before he’s squeezing you into his side.

The condensation on his bottle of beer seeps through the shoulder of your top, his arm secured safely around you.

He must be tipsy already, a buzz in his veins making him more affectionate than normal.

“I can’t believe it,” he laments, speaking to no one in particular.

In your peripheral, you fail to ignore tight jeans and a loose-fitting shirt.

It’s hardly buttoned, the top three undone and leaving a golden plain on display.

Perhaps you’re going crazy but he seems thinner, skin drawn a little tighter against his ribcage.

It’s not a sight you want to see.

It fills you with dread.

Pulling you out of your own head, you father continues to drone on.

“My little girl’s spreading her wings soon, going on her first adult holiday to-”

“London.”

Javi’s voice, interrupting your father, finishing his sentence.

All eyes snap to him.

Your own, wide and panicked. Scared. Trying so hard to dismiss how intensely he’s staring back you.

Your mother’s, amused and curious. Flicking back and forth between his face and her husband’s.

Your father, confused and perplexed, “I- Yeah...” He speaks slow and the arm on your shoulder slips down. “How’d you know?”

“I’ve been, you know?” Two hands dance in front of you, somewhere in the dark, intwining and unwinding. It’s a nervous habit, of Javi’s. You welcome the contact of soothing touches. “To London.”

That peaks your interest.

Enough to shift positions. Rip your hand out his own, roll onto your side and rest a hand under your propped up head. Your other, inevitably, finds its way upon his warm chest, rests over his no-longer-racing heartbeat.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’ve been a few times, actually. I’ve got some friends out there.”

With Javi, friends could mean anything.

A fellow agent, a government official, a moonlight lover.

For all you know, this friend could be the Queen of England.

So it’s best you don’t inquire on it.

“Where do you recommend I visit then, Mr. Bond?”

“Mr... Bond?”

The room is dark, but you still notice the furrow in his brow.

You can practically hear it, in his voice.

“You know, like James Bond.” That’s the thing about jokes, explaining them makes you realise how dumb they are. “‘Cause you were an agent and you like London, and he’s an agent in Lon-”

He cuts you off in the way you like best: his mouth against yours.

The kiss is brief, and leads no place further than the simple act of wanting to silence you.

And, though it goes unaddressed, because it’s been too long since he’d last done it.

Even if he’d done so less than an hour ago, naked bodies intertwined on ruffled bedsheets.

“That was the worst pun I’ve ever heard, corazón,” somehow, the words don’t bruise your ego.

Instead, they make you giggle and burrow your heated face into the crook of his neck.

His lips press against your hairline before speaking again.

“I’d need to write you a list of places to go, too many for me to pick one.”

“Maybe I need a tour guide,” a hand of his greets your back, strokes soothing motions back and forth. It’s lulling you to sleep, at last. “Y’know, show me all the places a real Londoner goes.”

“I could,” he pauses. Clears his throat. Pulls you a little tighter against him, till your limbs are tangled and it’s hard to tell where he stops and you start. “I could check my calendar. See how many holiday days I’ve got left. Could come with you, to London, if you want me there.”

It’s too late though.

You’re already snoring against his skin.

“How does he know?” Your mother shatters the silence, tone incredulous. “I mean, seriously, are you blind!?”

For a minute, it feels like she knows.

She knows why Javi knows.

You should be panicking.

Both of you should.

Should look away from one another, should wipe the guilt off your faces, should already be working on some excuse for when your mother exposes what once was between you.

But you aren’t. Neither of you are.

You’re just staring at each other, as if you’re working to commit each other’s face to memory.

“He knows because you won’t shut up about it!”

Your dad gives an unceremonious oh.

Your mom rolls her eyes.

Javi takes a sip of beer and looks off to the side, eyes breaking contact from your own at last.

“Ok but,” your father’s back to talking before you can fully work up the courage to leave. At least that’s the excuse you try give yourself, anything to distract from Javi. “I bet I’ve not told you what she’s decided to do on her travels!”

“You have,” your mother’s tone is pointed.

Javi laughs, sputters up a little beer back into the bottle. Tilts his head back, accepts his own backwash.

There’s a worn-out cigarette box squeezed tight inside the front pocket of his jeans.

You try ignore the fact he’d promised you he was working on quitting.

“Shh,” your father waves a hand in your mother’s face, dismisses her teasing with a playful wink.

Pulls her close, kisses her shoulder.

Gives both you and Javi a display of what a relationship is.

Open, celebrated, acknowledged.

Not secretive, dirty, scandalous.

Javi cuts the tension with a chuckle and a gentle shove to your father’s arm.

As his hand retreats back to his side, his knuckles brush your skin.

“She’s gonna get herself a christmas-tree decoration every holiday,” your father reveals. You’re frozen at the fact he even remembers you mentioning it. “What was it you said again, kiddo? So in the future, when you’re decorating the tree with your kids, you’ll think of the places you’ve been and tell them all about it?”

Your heart drops.

Javi’s seems to do the same.

For a moment, you worry he’s stopped breathing.

Till his chest rises and falls, no thanks to your father’s stupid rambling about you, and the future, and kids.

“Uh, yeah,” the ground can’t swallow you sooner. You’re already planning your exit, from this conversation and, hopefully, this party as a whole. Your dad’ll understand. You just need to tell him something came up. Or came out. Tell him you’ve got food poison. Blame it on some dodgy take-out the night before. “Something like that.”

But I’m actually bloody Motherfucking batshit crazy

There are moments in one’s life where they must question their own sanity.

You’ve lived plenty of such moments.

But none quite like right now, half-crouched in the middle of a grocery store aisle, peeping into the next one through a gap between two cereal boxes on the shelf.

And all because you heard his voice.

“This is what you’re craving?” Through the crack, you see him wave about something in his hand. It’s hard to see what exactly he’s holding, though.

He’s facing a woman.

She’s pretty.

With dirty blonde hair, piercing blue eyes that not even the shelves and produce between you both can block the shine of.

And a well-rounded belly.

“No, Javi, this,” she doesn’t say his name the same way you do- did. There’s a jovial tone, but there’s no awe, no seduction. Maybe that’s just what your bias hears. “Is what the baby is craving.”

You’ve never seen her before.

Not on the mantel of photos that line Javier’s television. Not at any of the station thrown parties. Not in his wallet, tucked behind the picture of his mom.

She’s a total stranger, to you.

But that doesn’t mean she’s a stranger to him.

A very pregnant, non-stranger.

“We gotta get this kid some better taste.”

His hand rests on her bump.

She welcomes it, placing her own against it to hold him in place.

The image of the American dream, a beautiful woman and a handsome man. The promise of a child, soon, half her and half him.

The blood drains from your face. There’s a lump in your throat and a sting in your eyes.

You won’t let it fester.

Take deep breaths, pretend there’s no shake in your exhales.

It’s not enough to stop the vicious thoughts that sink their jagged ends into the soft tissues of your brain.

Was she the reason things between you and him ended?

Had he got her pregnant, decided to stand by her, and found love along the way?

Was he with her, all along, while he was with...

Surely, he couldn’t have.

But, then, why couldn’t he have?

You were never exclusive.

You were never anything.

“Did-” Somewhere, between the aisles, Javi speaks in amazement. The smile is practically dripping off his words. “Did it just kick?”

Your heart’s palpitating.

Your hands are sweating so badly, they threaten to drop the box of Cap'n Crunch in their grasp.

Jealousy turns to misplaced anger, irrational in every form but impossible to conform.

Because, how could he do this to you?

Make a mockery of you, turn you into the other woman?

Love you so deeply and leave you so easily?

Settle down with this woman and her baby, yet run from you at the first scare of a-

“He’s a real kicker, ain’t he?”

At first, you think it’s spoken to you.

But, no, it’s too distant. Too far.

A third person enters your view through the window in the shelf.

He’s handsome, in the typical sense.

Blonde haired, a nice smile.

There’s a little girl in his arms, resting on his hip, half asleep and clinging to a worn-out giraffe doll.

“He?” It’s Javi who echoes.

“Don’t get him started,” the woman seems to beg, rolling her eyes.

The man nods, pride on his face, “I’m telling ya, Peña, it’s gonna be a boy. It needs to be a boy, ‘else I’m gonna be overrun by little girls.”

The woman must give him a pointed look, or a gentle nudge, for not two seconds later he’s following his words up with a tickle to the sleepy girl’s side and “little girls who I love very much.” Pause. He leans closer to Javier, hand covering one side of his mouth as if to block the woman and the child from hearing him. “I still want a son, though.”

“Olivia,” the pregnant woman strokes a hand over the little girl's head, coxing her to keep her eyes open. It’s hard to tell if there’s a drool mark on the man’s shoulder. “Why don’t you show uncle Javi your favourite toy?”

The bile in your throat burns more than ever before.

The misplaced anger bleeds into sadness, shame, embarrassment.

Here you are, going stir-crazy over a man who never wanted much of you in the first place, raising your heart-rate at the thought of him moving on from something that never even existed.

And there he is, fine as can be- in every sense of the word-, sharing laughs and exchanging smiles with old friends in the grocery store.

Friends his own age.

Worlds apart, yet nothing but a shelf between you.

Through the gap, you watch him lean down to the little girl’s eye-level. A twinkle in his eye, he happily tugs at the stuffed giraffe’s tail.

“Glad you liked it, Olive,” curse him, and his soft voice, and his gentle touch and his everything, for still forcing you to swoon over him, knees weak and ovaries treacherously screaming. “I had to go all the way to Africa to find him.”

The little girl perks right up at that.

Eyes widened, head off her father’s shoulder.

“Really?!” She’s amazed, and how could she not be? Javier Peña is beaming at her, ear to ear.

“Mhmm,” he nods, feeds into his own lie, ignoring the disapproving looks from the other man. “If you’re lucky, maybe I’ll go back next year and get you a zebra.”

“Quit lying to my kid, Peña.”

Javi, undeterred from keeping the little girl’s smile, rolls his eyes and pokes his tongue out at her father, huffing under his breath “Your dad’s a right grump, Olive.”

You begin to wonder how long Javi’s known this couple, how he knows this couple.

“Just wait till you’ve got your own kid and I’m feeding it lies.” The man punctuates his empty threat with a dull punch to Javi’s forearm. Javi barely flinches, unfazed. “Speaking of, when are you making me uncle Steve?”

In sync and apart, you and him both physically freeze.

Your breathing stops.

Javier stands up straight. Rolls his shoulders, scratches at the back of his neck, clears his throat and, “not any time soon.”

“Really? What about that girl you’ve been seeing, the-”

“That- We- It didn’t work out, we wanted,” you begin to see cracks in his facade. Fake laugh, solemn eyes. “Different things... I want, wanted to settle down but, yeah, no it was for her best that we-”

“Sorry, can I just,” your heart jumps in your chest, flying back so quickly from your peep-hole that you nearly knock over the person behind you. “Grab one of those?”

You nod, gain composure, watch the stranger pick up a box of cereal off the shelf.

They walk away and you’re left alone, again.

Your eyes flicker up to the shelf and-

He’s no longer standing on the other side.

You turn on your heel, ignoring your half-filled cart and book it out of the store before you fall apart.

Try as you might, you can’t shake off the weight of his stare as you pass by the check-out.

I kept it in, but it wrecked my organs So pour the gin and call Graham Norton

You wake up early.

You tell yourself it’s because you’re seizing the day.

Making the most out of your time upon foreign land.

The early bird gets the worm, and all that proverbial bullshit.

The truth lies in that you can not sleep.

Jetlag. Your body clock is at odds with the timezone.

Which lands you here: strolling upon the cobbled streets of Notting Hill.

A quarter past six.

Its barely light out, the sun still fighting to rise over the horizon and the streetlights still shadow your every step.

Colourful houses, cosy shops, a melodic thud each time your feet meet the ground.

It’s picturesque, straight out of a romantic comedy.

Yet, somehow, you’ve never felt more gloom.

In the silent bustle of a city awakening to a new day, you’re startled.

Trip over a cobble, nearly meet the floor, and just about save yourself from rolling your ankle.

Your ringtone is the culprit.

Loud, imposing. It scares a flock of birds off a wire and gains you a stare from a man stepping out his home.

Scrambling to get the clunky cellphone out your bag, you spare the screen a fleeting glance.

You question if it’s one of your friends, awakened back in your shared hotel room to find you’re not there, and press the green button.

“Corazón.”

It’s funny how one word can drain the blood from your face.

You swallow the lump in your throat, made of equal parts anger and sadness.

Anger that this is the first time you’ve heard Javier Peña’s voice in nearly two months.

Sadness that it sounds so broken down the line.

“I- Shit, I can’t tell if I’ve even dialled the right number...” He’s muttering in your ear, confused and at odds with himself, mouth a fountain his thoughts pour out of. “... Probably changed it or- Can she even receive calls all the way in-”

“I’m here,” it’s only a whisper.

It’s enough to shut him up.

Silence rings down the line, a static buzz that reminds you of the distance between you.

“You’re in London,” he states.

“I am,” you affirm.

He hums, sips something.

Ice clinks against glass, and you feel a little sick.

“How have-” His voice sounds strange. Muffled. Different. Maybe it’s the poor connection. “Was your flight okay?”

“Yeah,” you spare him the details.

The truth.

The boredom, the turbulence. The fact you’re dreading the flight home.

“I’m glad,” he sighs the words out, worry going with them. “Know you’re not the biggest fan of planes, kept thinking of you alone and afraid on it.”

“I wasn’t alone,” it’s defensive, and ironic.

You sure felt alone.

“That’s right, corazón, you weren’t,” something slips, rolls, smashes. Glass shatters and is met with cursing anger, an oh, shit! followed up by hollow laughter. “You’re never alone.”

“Are you...” The street’s a little brighter, a few cars have begun to back out of driveways and you’re still there, frozen in the middle of the street, phone pressed to your ear. “Drunk?”

“No, I’m javi.” If his laughter is anything to go by, he thinks himself the comic of the century. “Had a few drinks with your dad, sweetheart, that’s all.”

For a moment, it feels like you shouldn’t be here, in London.

You should be home, in Laredo, dragging a drunken Javi to bed.

Stripping him of his clothes, kissing his rosied cheeks, urging him to go to sleep. Leaving him a pair of painkillers and a glass of water for his breakfast before curling yourself into his soft arms.

You blink, and feel the familiar weight of a tear on your lashes.

“Why’d you call me, Javi?” It’s a desperate plea.

For answers, for clarity, for closure

“I wanted to hear your voice,” that’s too vague of an answer, too unfair of an answer. Your heart swells nonetheless. “Wanted to go to London, with you. I should be there.”

“It’s your fault,” that’s as cruel as you can bring yourself to be towards him.

Even then, it kills you to do so.

“’S half my fault. Joder (fuck),” you can picture him, leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. You wonder how much he’s drank, and if he spoke to any women. Maybe he took one home, fucked her nice and good before dialling your number. “Wanted to give you my answer, too.”

Someone bumps your shoulder on the street, walking past you.

You pay them no mind, vision blurred to the world around you.

“What answer?”

“Where you should visit, Mrs. Bond,” he says it, like it doesn’t send you into cardiac arrest.

You miss the nights like that one, tangled in your bed, smelling him on your sheets and feeling him against your skin.

He’d woken up first the next day, coaxed you out of bed with the promise of homemade pancakes and his head between your legs.

“There’s this little bar in Inslington, called the Distillery Club. The owner, he makes his own gin. You like gin, don’t you, corazón?” You nod, and it’s almost like he feels it. “It doesn’t look like much from the outside. Or the inside, either. But it’s some of the best gin I’ve ever had, in the greatest company.”

You try to picture him, sat amongst friends you’ve never met. Friends who don’t know your dad.

You try to picture yourself, next to him, scooting your bar stool closer to his.

The image doesn’t quite form.

“Want you to go there, get yourself a drink. Tell him Javier Peña sent you, and that you’ve not to pay.”

It’s like he’s given you a piece of his soul. A piece of his history, someplace he’s sought out refuge in his lowest moments.

Refuge he’s willing to share with you.

That tear finally gives way, dropping off your lash and rolling down your cheek.

You wipe it off with the sleeve of your sweater, before anyone can see.

“Promise me you’ll go, corazón.”

Your reply is instant, “I promise.”

“Ok, I’ll let you go,” it’s solemn, regretful, devoid of truth. You almost beg him not to, but that didn’t work last time. “Enjoy yourself, okay? Come home, safe.”

“Javi, I-” the line cuts off, disconnecting before you even finish. “Miss you.”

I’m gonna throw you down the river Your mum can watch it over dinner

“How you feeling, kiddo?”

You startle awake at your father’s voice, eyes heavy with exhaustion.

Before you can give him an answer, you erupt into a fit of coughs.

“Not good,” he grimaces and slowly steps into your room. “Got it.”

Stepping off the plane, you’d managed only one night back in your own bed before the fever had taken over.

All it took was hearing your nasally voice over the phone for your mother to demand you come stay with them.

Just till you’re back on your feet, she’d said, like she ever needed an excuse to have you over.

She’s not quite adjusted to being an empty-nester.

Neither of them have, really.

“Actually,” your tone is matter-of-factly. “I almost smelt something earlier.”

“That’s great, kid!” And he means it, you know he does. Even if his shoulders slump at any sign of you feeling better and returning to your apartment. “Now we just gotta figure out if it’s your sinuses unclogging or your stench just growing more rancid.”

Try as you might to aim the pillow right at his head, he still manages to catch it inches from his face.

“Hey, I’m just saying! You’ve got the flu, you ain’t dying! Could be a little courteous to those who’ve gotta be around you and take a shower.”

“You’re literally in my room!”

“Which is literally in my house!”

Downstairs, your mother yells something unintelligible.

Likely, she’s telling you both to shut up and to quit behaving like children.

Making eye contact, you both can’t help the roll of laughter that comes out.

He steps a little closer, and that’s when you spot it.

Tupperware, clasped in his hand.

The contents are hard to decipher.

Luckily, your father spots you eyeing it.

“Your mom said ya wouldn’t be up for eating much but, if you’re hungry,” he pauses, at the foot of your bed. Tugs a little on the homemade-blanket you’ve had since you were in grade school. You wonder if he remembers making it with you. “One of the guys down at the station made you some stew.”

Your stomach growls, hungry and unfed.

The prospect of a hot, boiling bowl of brothy stew suddenly peaks your interest.

In fact, you can’t think of anything better.

“It’s a family recipe, he said it would cure ya right up.”

He’s popping the lid open, presenting the delicacy before your eyes.

Immediately, you spot chicken.

Some corn cob, a couple lumps of potato, flakes of chilli.

You wish you could smell it, ingest it through your nasal canal and get a taste of it before you even put it in your mouth.

Your father continues, practically talking to himself.

“What’d he say it was called again, ga-sue-lay day ah-vay?”

“Cazuela de ave.”

A change into warmer, drier clothes.

Your hair still sits wet upon your head, but it no longer drips puddles onto his floor.

Thirty minutes it took him to drive from where he’d spotted you, walking soaked upon the sidewalk.

It would’ve only taken him seventeen minutes if he’d dropped you at your apartment.

And that fact is partly what warms your insides.

You watch him, tie discarded and the top buttons of his shirt undone, strutting around his kitchen.

Objectively, you think, he’s gorgeous.

Yet the word somehow doesn’t seem like it’s enough to summarise him, when he’s making his way round to you, two ceramic bowls in his hands and a look of pride in his eyes.

He put his own bowl down first. Sloppy, uncaring, spilling a little of it’s contents over it’s edge.

And then yours. More careful, slowly, both hands guiding it down.

The scent alone is enough to have you salivating.

Warmth and care, all encased in a bowl of brothy goodness.

“It smells delicious,” you inhale deeply, for dramatic effect.

And to get more of that meaty, comfort-food goodness.

Javi sits on the opposite side of the dining table, and you try hard to stop your mind from wandering off to visions of you both sat like this, out in public, in a restaurant.

A real date.

Only, this isn’t even a fake date.

You guys don’t do that.

“It’s- It was my mom’s recipe.”

Frozen in place, you wonder if the shock spills over your face.

He’s never mentioned his mother.

Or much about his family, really.

There’s the occasional comment about projects he takes on at his dad’s ranch, and tid-bits of information you hear across a dinner table that's set by your mother and seated by your father.

But you’re no fool blind enough to not realise the obvious.

A worn-out polaroid in his wallet, his mother smiles brightly in permanent ink each time he opens it. It contrasts her impermanence in the real world, dead and gone long before you became so much as a ripple in the lake of Javier’s existence.

Across the table, he’s relaxed. At ease.

Open.

His eyes, his mind, his heart.

And so you try venturing inwards, test his waters with a dip of your toe.

“Was she a good cook?”

Lukewarm, they appear, when he favours you with a tiny smile, his eyes staring somewhere off in the distance.

“No,” and he laughs at his own admission.

Not just a scoffed out chuckle, or a gesture meant to feign joy.

A full, hearty laugh, that shakes his shoulders and splits his cheeks.

It’s disturbingly beautiful.

You wonder if there’s a life where it could be like this, always.

Javier laughing at his own jokes, you smiling at his visceral joy, plates of homemade food filling the space between you.

“No, she, uh,” he restarts, relaxing a little bit. He wipes under one of his eyes with the back of his palm, a rogue tear breaching his waterline. “She was awful. She burnt every slice of toast she made, and even served an unbaked cake at one of my birthday parties. This dish is actually one of the few she knew how to nail.”

You can picture it, a young Javi, party hat on his head and a cheesy grin topped by rosy cheeks, eating away at gooey batter mix sprinkled in icing.

It’s hard to imagine him complaining, or getting angry at her.

In spite of his reputation, and the career he’s undertaken, Javier Peña is a gentle soul, who nurtures and protects anyone he can.

A modern-day hero, a knight who’s exchanged his shinny armour for form fitting jeans and unbuttened shirts.

“Tell me more about her,” the words are out before you can reel them back in.

Because you like this feeling, and you like this Javi, reminiscing on his late-mother.

“She not only was awful at cooking, but she had the worst coordination too.” It’s like he’s been waiting to tell you this, with how easy he slips into doing so. “She was forever falling and tripping over herself. And her driving, god! Pops used to dig out his rosary each time she’d be out on the field, driving the tractor.”

There’s something intimate about him recalling details so many would see as flaws, whilst he sports the most earnest, heart-wrenching smile.

Like nothing about her was wrong, all of her perfect and angelic.

“She was brave, too. I’d like to think I’m just like her in that respect. She didn’t let anything stop her from doing things she set her heart on, and she never let her inabilities hinder her,” he’s getting a little emotional now, you can hear it in his voice, see it in the lump he swallows back. You stretch a hand across the table and watch as he leans on you for support, fingers interlocking with your own. “There was this one time when I was a kid, I was swimming in a river and got stuck in a current. She dived right in to save me... She didn’t even know how to swim!”

You don’t know what to say.

You opt for saying nothing, silence speaking more than a thousand words.

Give his hand a reassuring squeeze, feel him squeeze back harder.

Your stomach rumbles, but it doesn’t ruin the moment in the way you feared it would.

“Listen to me being a sap and starving my poor lady to death,” still, he tugs your hand closer and plants a kiss on your knuckles. You’re still trying to process the possessive adjective he’d used to address you. My. His. “Eat up.”

Both of you settle back in your seats.

You pick up your spoon, scoop up a piece of chicken out the steaming bowl and-

“Asi no, corazón (not like that, sweetheart),” he spews out, panicking to pry the cutlery out your hand. He ignores the questioning looks you give him. “You drink the soup first, eat the filling after. Like this.”

Leaning over the table, he scoops your bowl up in his careful hands and guides it up to your lips.

When your lips part and rest against the bowl’s edge, he tilts it and you feel it’s warmth invade your mouth.

And then your chest, branching out over your heart, your lungs, your stomach.

Horned-up bias you so often show towards Javier aside, it’s one of the best things you’ve ever tasted.

Like a hug on a gloomy, wet day, all wrapped up inside a ceramic bowl.

You hum, hands taking over his own to allow him back into his own seat, focusing his attention on drinking his own soup.

“Javi, this is...” You trail off, eyeing the small ring of liquid pooling at the bottom of the bowl. One more mouthful and you’ll get your taste of the stew’s fillings. “Amazing. Your mum would be proud.”

Instead of modesty, instead of 'thank yous', instead of bashfulness, Javier smiles, takes another sip from his bowl.

“She would have liked you.”

You stare across at him and find no jest in his eyes.

They’re as open as before.

“Really?”

“Mhmm. She always liked pretty girls smart enough to put me in my place.”

“Kiddo?”

You’re ripped out your own head by your father’s voice and his hand, waved repeatedly in front of your face.

“Hmm?”

“You okay there? I was talkin’ to you but you seemed lost in thought.” There’s a little excitement in you father’s voice as he presses his cold hand to your sweated forehead, the prospect of you still being ill, still needing taking care of, filling him with the relief of keeping you in your parents' home a little longer.

“I’m- Yeah, just tired, s’all.”

“Ok, let me know when you’ve finished your food,” he presses a kiss atop the crown of your head, and you hold back the pointless comment of not risking getting himself or your mother sick. “Need to get the tupperware clean ‘fore I give it back to Javi.”

Your stomach twists and longs for the meal before you, while your heart shatters into pieces you doubt will ever be repaired.

#javier peña smut #pedro pascal smut #javier peña x reader #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña oneshot

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pascalscoffin · 3 months

Text

Curvilínea

- Curvaceous - Requested by this lovely, lovely person

Full Pedro Masterlist

Warning: Minors Go Away I Will Kick You In The Forehead. Smut(it’s not crazy descriptive): oral (f receiving); protected p in v (do whatever you want); vaginal fingering; Javi talks about your pussy in the third person (shut up). Curvy/Plus size!reader. Reader uses she/her pronouns, she and Javi are the same age. Reader understands and speaks Spanish a couple times (probably like once). Reader co-owns a bar rather than just being a bartender. Body Shaming warning!! (Please it’s so mean. I had to look it up I couldn’t even fathom something to say. I FEEL DIRTY) I’ll have them in italics or something. Javi being a gentleman. Violence (a couple punches). Mentions of past drug use/abuse. Mentions of ODing. Alcohol mentioned briefly. Physical description of after an OD.

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Co-owning a bar with your best friend wasn’t exactly your lifelong dream, though if you thought about it hard enough you didn’t ever have a “lifelong dream”. Sure when you were young you wanted to be a singer, an actor, a doctor, the president, a race car driver, a scientist, and a slew of other professions but the fascination with them never lasted long and you were hopping to the next ideal job faster than your parents could keep up.

But in college you met Lucy and Eloise, who would become two of your best friends. In your junior year, the three of discovered cocaine at a party, you and Eloise were more weekend or bi-weekend doers. Lucy, though, who’d grown up troubled and surrounded by the stuff, fell in head first. Lucy was always talking about the three of you opening up a bar together, naming it The Lucky Horseshoe, and living together in an apartment nearby.

And then that was the dream, you and Eloise stopped doing coke and fought to get and keep Lucy clean, which got more difficult with each relapse, until eventually Lucy went in over her head and you and Eloise found her face down in her own throw up.

After that, you and Eloise stuck true to your promise, saving up money and moving to Lucy’s hometown of Laredo, Texas to open the bar. She always talked about missing Laredo, so with her ashes, given as she didn’t have any family left besides the two of you, you went to Laredo and bought a small bar. Originally you were going to call it Lucy’s Horseshoe. But when you got the sign it had said Lucky Horseshoe, and considering that was what Lucy had wanted to name it, it stuck.

You and Eloise often worked together on Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays since they were your busiest days of the week, one of you typically able to handle it during the week. Of course, it wasn’t perfect, drunk assholes were drunk assholes whether you owned the bar or not, they tended not to care if they were shitfaced enough. Which is why you were trying to politely tell this guy you weren’t interested, but he wasn’t getting the hint.

“Cmon, doll. When you gonna let me take you out, huh?” Don was a regular, every Friday at 8pm he came in and sat in the same stool until close, desperately trying to hit on you. “I don’t date patrons, Don. Besides, you’re drunk.” Don waved his hand at you with a grunt. “‘M tipsy. There’s a difference.” You made a face while you had your back turned, pouring him a glass of water and sitting it down. “Why don’t you drink some water and I’ll call you a cab.”

“Or c’n jus’ take me to your place. Show you a real good time.” You sighed heavily. “What’s the matter? You got a boyfriend or somethin’?” He scoffed, apparently finally agitated with your constant ‘no’s. “No- I don’t have a boyfriend-“ “girlfriend?” “No.” “Husband? Fiancé? Situationship? Anythin’ holdin’ ya down?”

“No, Don, I don’t.” “Then what’s the fuckin’ problem?” Don scoffed and you rubbed your hand against your leg. “… I’m just not interested, Don? Okay? I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, you’re a nice guy.. you’re just not my type.” Don leaned back and looked absolutely scandalized by the idea that you couldn’t possibly be interested in him.

“Seriously?” You opened your mouth but he stood up and cut you off. “I come here every god damn Friday, talk to you, try to be a nice fucking guy and take you out for a good time and I’m not your type?” His jaw clenched. “Y’know- I wouldn’t be so god damn picky if I couldn’t see my whole body when I looked in a fucking mirror. Fat bitch.” He ripped his jacket off his chair and turned around, immediately being cracked in the face, stumbling back and then getting hit again, actually falling out this time as OH’s echoed around.

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Javier had decided, since he’s been back home for about a year and he’s now settled back in, that tonight he’d go out and try to dip his toes back into the dating pool. There were no high hopes, really, tonight was mostly just to go out and get a feel for what the pool actually looked like. When Chucho suggested a new bar called Lucky Horseshoe, Javier had been skeptical, thinking maybe it was one of his dad’s old guy bars.

He was surprised to see a nicely decorated bar with great music and even better alcohol lined up behind the bar. He’d looked around, contemplating sitting at a table before deciding he’d sit at the bar, and then there was the choice of sitting on the right of the bar or the left. After two minutes of staring at the bar he decided to sit on your side.

After he sat he took that time to look around and really get a feel for his surroundings, the place was nicely decorated and a look above the alcohol showed him different photos of you, the other bartender, and a third girl, the name Lucy was written in the middle of all the pictures and he imagined the other side of the bar looked the same, a closer look at the backsplash for the alcohol would show the same type of deal, photos of a pretty blonde girl, some photos had you and in the other bartender but most were different photos of just the girl, Lucy he guessed.

He hadn't been sitting there long when you'd strolled up to him, probably about a minute, he ordered a whiskey dry and then you were being called over by a guy who was definitely wasted and probably shouldn't have anymore drinks.

He was having a decent time, chatting up different women or talking about sports he couldn't care much for with guys that sat around him, just getting to know people rather than trying to get to know them. He’d picked up on the conversation a bit, keeping himself tuned in when he picked up on the guy’s persistence.

The guy barely had his insult out before Javier was standing up and walking over. He waited for him to turn around and immediately grabbed his collar with one hand, and hit him square in the nose with the other. He let go of his shirt and watched him stumble before hitting him again, watching him fall to the ground. “Fuck! Dude! I think you broke my fucking nose!” He yelled, blood pouring onto his shirt as he held his face.

“Someone should teach you how to speak to women.” Javier grabbed his collar and yanked him up. “What kind of idle-minded, pathetic Hijo de puta son of a bitch do you have to be to hit on a woman, and then talk shit about her body when she says no?” He growled, turning him and shoving him to the door, taking a step towards him as the kid, Javier could tell now he really was just some kid, probably just turned old enough to drink, way too boyish to go after a woman like you. He stumbled back a bit, holding his nose. “Now get the fuck out of here before I break more than your god damn nose.” He grabbed the guys blazer-gross-off the back of the chair he’d been sitting at and threw it in his face.

His friends, who were smart enough to stay out of the fight, helped their friend out of the bar, yelling that they’d just lost their business, though he figured it wouldn’t be missed very much. Javier found himself following behind them, standing just outside the door as he watched them get into their car and peel away.

He was just about to go back in, make sure you were alright, when he quite literally slammed into you just as you were stumbling out of the bar, holding in your own tears. "Shit- I'm sorry." You stepped away from him and he shook his head. "My fault, I wasn't paying much attention." He looked down at you and cleared his throat. "Are you alright?"

You nodded quickly, npt looking him in the eye as you felt the tears start to well up. You always put. on a brave face when people talked about your body, pretended like it didn't bother you, you'd grown up with the comments so at this point you should be desensitized to them. Yet, still, the comments always bothered you, the backhanded compliments about your clothing from skinny female patrons who had frat boys hanging off their shoulders, "innocently" agreeing with their weekly snatch.

"I'm fine." He didn't seem to believe you, though, his brows furrowing before he gently grabbed your hand. "Come on." He guided you over to pnce of the benches outside the bar and pulled his cigarettes from his pocket. You watched him curiously, waiting for him to say something as he put a cigarette between his lips and extended the pack for you to take one, you hesitantly took one and mumbled a soft thank you.

He didn't say anything, though, just put his pack away and lit the cigarette dangling between his lips before reaching his lighter out to light yours. Now that you were actually near him, silent, with no patrons keeping you from admiring him- he really was handsome. A prominent nose with laugh lines crinkling around his dark brown eyes as the flame of the lighter flickered in front of his face.

You looked away from him, though. Just because he punched a guy for body-shaming you, doesn't mean he's interested, he likely doesn't want you ogling him while he's just trying to smoke his cigarette. "Um... why did I have to... sit here?" You asked after a moment. He looked at you and shrugged. "Figured eventually you'd give up the lie and admit that you're not okay."

You blinked rapidly and looked over at him. "Excuse me?" He sighed and leaned forward a bit. "You're not okay." He shrugged a little. "You don't have to be, but... That guys a prick, alright? Shouldn't listen to him." You frowned a little as you pulled your cigarette from your lips, slowly exhaling the smoke from your lungs before letting out a soft laugh. "I don't even know your name and you expect me to just pour my heart out to you?"

You had to admit it seemed inticing, telling him everything that bothered you, because it felt like he wanted to listen, like he wanted you to tell him every little thing that entered your mind. "Javier Peña." You looked down at the hand thrusted towards you and looked back up at him before slowly taking it and telling him your name. He repeated it a time or two and the way it sounded on his tongue made the bottom of your stomach burn.

Peña... that name sounded familiar... "Is your dad Chucho?" You asked curiously, brows furrowed as he widened his eyes. ".. yes. Chucho is my dad." He chuckled. "Didn't realize he was on a first name basis." "Oh, yeah. Chucho's an angel." You laughed softly and sniffled. "So- you're the famous Javi he goes on and on about."

"God- he doesn't." "He does. You should meet mi hijo Javier, he always says." You laughed softly. "He's very proud of you, he loves you a lot." "Uh-huh. What else does he say about me?" You hummed softly. "Sorry, I've been sworn to secrecy." "Oh, have you?" "Oh, yeah. It was a whole thing." Javier snorted a little and shook his head. "Right. So.. he comes here a lot, then?" You nodded. "Definitely. i mean, you don't have to worry about him he really doesn't drink much, I think he just likes the company."

He nodded and took a drag from his cigarette, choking on it with your next sentence. "i also think he really likes talking you up." He coughed violently and looked at you with furrowed brows. "What?" You nodded. "Mhm. Always talking about what a good man you are, how him and your mama taught you how to properly treat a lady. He's had to tell Don off a time or two before." Huh... well played, Chucho.

The old man sure knew how to formulate a plan- and kill two birds with one stone. He knew Don would be there, knew he would bother you, and of course he knew his son would step in and save the day, and if you and Javier just so happened to hit off, then he could stop worrying so much about him.

"Mm I see." Javier nodded. "Well- thanks for letting him hang around." You shook your head with a laugh. "He's sweet, I was more than happy to keep him around." You said happily. Javier chuckled softly and nodded. "Still. Thank you."

You were quiet for a while, the two of you smoking your cigarettes as you glanced at Javier from the corner of your eye. "... thank you for what you did." Javier looked at you and shook his head. "Don't thank me. No one should be spoken to that way." You chewed on your lip. "I should be used to it now, really. I've heard shit like that so much..." "But it hurts anyway." He said softly, making you nod as you reached up to wipe your eye as tears started to slip again.

"Don't cry, mi diosa curvilínea." my curvaceous goddess. He whispered softly, reaching up to swipe under the opposite eye slowly. You laughed lightly and sniffled as you looked up at him. "Well Chucho was right about you being a real flatterer." Javier chuckled softly and tossed his cigarette to the side before taking yours and tossing it in the same direction. "I'm serious."

His other hand came up to cup both of your cheeks. "You shouldn't let a Pendejo like that make you upset. He's not worth it." He rubbed his thumbs along your cheeks. "A silly little boy who resorts to tantrums when he doesn't get what he wants. You're too much woman for him, anyway, he wouldn't know what to do with una diosa like yourself." You felt your cheeks warm up under his hands, a slow grin stretched across his face. "Now- do you think your friend would let you go for the night?"

"W-what?" Javier chuckled. "Would she let you leave? There's nto very many places open at this time of night but a woman such as yourself should be wined and dined- or at least dined." You laughed lightly. "Who says i wanna be 'wined and dined' by you?" You asked curiously.

Obviously you did, you really did, watching Javier knock out Don had started a stur in your belly and the longer you sat there with him the warmer it got, the tighter it pulled. But still, you couldn't just fall right in line, you didn't want him to think you were some kinda whore, especially not after Chucho's told you all kinds of admirable things about him.

Javier tilted his head a bit, his finger running down your cheek and along your bottom lip. "Do you?" He asked softly, his eyes searching over your face before settling on yours. You swallowed thickly and slowly started to nod. "I-I'll be right back." You stood up quickly and stumbled back towards the door, your cheeks burning as you spun around and went inside quickly, over to Eloise.

"Eloise. You know i love you and I would do the same thing for you in a heartbeat- can i please leave with that beautiful, beautiful man outside." Eloise looked up from the glass she was cleaning and widened her eyes. "You whore!" She gasped before looking around at the nearly empty bar. "I can totally handle this. Go, go, go. You deserve it- and I expect all the details tomorrow morning." You nodded rapidly. "Yes, obviously. Okay i have to go now thank you so much and wish me luck with Chucho's son."

As you were grabbing your coat and practically sprinting from the bar, you heard her screech. THAT'S CHUCHO'S SON?! When you stepped out you saw Javier looking at you with raised brows, chuckling softly. "So.. I'm famous around the bar?" You laughed and shrugged. "I told you, Chucho is very, very proud to have you as a son... as he should be."

Javier chuckled and shook his head a little as he started guiding you to his truck. "Whatever you say, Diosa." He looked at you curiously when you stopped. "What about my car?" You looked over towards the run down beamer and he chuckled. "It'll be fine here, I'll bring you back for it in the morning."

You were a little hesitant, your brain momentarily making you consider the fact that this man was very obviously capable, and that going off alone in a car with a man you didn't know was a very bad decision. But something about his eyes, his pouty lips, made you nod your head and smile at him. "Yeah I-I can just come back for it tomorrow." He nodded and guided you towards his truck, opening the passemger door for you to get in.

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The diner was small, warm enough you had to take off your jacket, but not so warm that you were sweating. Javi was sitting in front of you, his elbows pressed against the table. "So I know you're not from Laredo." You laughed and nodded.

"No. No I'm not." "So, where are you from, then?" He asked, you were waiting on your food so you didn't have to worry about a waiter coming over to take your orders. "Las Vegas." Javier's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "Vegas? Really?" "Oh, yeah." “How was that?” “Not that exciting, honestly.” You laughed softly and he chuckled.

“Yeah I guess all the drunk gamblers get annoying.” “God and it’s worse if you’re a woman with tits.” You rolled your eyes. “I swear, men get drunk and they think every woman with a pulse wants-“ you blinked rapidly as if realizing you were shit talking men- to a man. “Sorry.”

Javier shook his head. “Don’t be. I’m guilty of the same- except usually the women I come onto actually are into me.” He chuckled softly. “Pretty easy to tell when a woman’s not interested- if you have a couple brain cells to rub together.”

You laughed and shook your head. “Think Laredo might be missing a few.” “Probably.” Javier laughed and nodded.

“So- Chucho suggested the bar but… didn’t say anything about it?” He shook his head. “Nope.” He chuckled. “Said it’d be a good scene for me to go to.” You hummed and nodded slowly. “Guess he was right.” He added. You felt your cheeks warm up as you looked up at him, chewing on your lip lightly. “Huh?”

“Good scene.” Javier chuckled and shrugged a little. “Minus the whole having to punch a guy.” He hummed. You opened your mouth and tilted your head. “I’m sorry I’m-I’m a little lost now.”

Javier laughed softly. “I went out because I’ve been back for almost a year and I still haven’t talked to anyone- female or otherwise.” “He thinks you’re lonely.” Javier shrugged. “He’s not wrong.” He sighed. “I have been a little lonely.”

You raised a brow. “Really?” He nodded. “Yeah.” He sighed heavily. “My partner at work is… my only friend. As depressing as that sounds.” You blinked rapidly. “Oh… well I know how you feel. I don’t have many friends. Eloise and Chucho, really.” He nodded. “How come?”

You hummed and shrugged a little. “I guess I don’t… like most people honestly.” You laughed softly. “I can be around other people but eventually my social battery just runs out.” “But you’re a bartender.” You nodded. “You’d be surprised how little people actually pay attention to their bartender.” He hummed and nodded like he understood.

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You sat and talked with him for what must’ve been two hours, not leaving until the waitress came around to give you your bill and send you on your way so she could close up and go home. You’d gotten closer in the time you were there, Javier eventually moving to sit next to you on your side of the booth, playing with the ends of your hair or the collar of your shirt as you talked quietly with eachother.

And now, you and Javier were back at your apartment, both agreeing you’d rather finish your night somewhere his dad wouldn’t hear. Eloise had even texted you to say she’d stay the night with her girlfriend Cheyenne rather than going home when the bar closed.

You knew Javier was attracted to you at this point, hell you were just as attracted to him. But that didn’t stop the anxiety you felt building in your stomach as you sat on your couch, gripping a beer bottle tightly in your hands as Javier looked at you, leaned back against your couch. You weren’t ever really insecure about your size, but every once in a while the harsh words would get to you and you’d be left floundering for the confidence that once radiated.

“Come here, Diosa.” He said softly, holding his hand out to you. “You’re so far away. Me siento solo aquí.” I’m lonely over here. You felt your cheeks warm up and hesitated before grabbing his hand and sliding closer to him on the couch. “Are you… sure you-” “don’t be silly.” Javier chuckled softly and leaned forward to set his beer down before grabbing yours and sitting it down also.

“I’m not a little boy, Hermosa.” He turned to you and brought his knee up onto the couch so he could look at you head on. “You’re all woman.” He hummed happily and licked his lips slowly. “And I don’t shy away from a woman like you.” He kissed your cheek lightly, and then your neck. “Just more to love, hold, kiss.” He mumbled softly before bumping his nose against yours. “But if you’re not up to it we don’t have to do anything. Just sit here and talk.”

You looked up into his eyes and blinked rapidly, chewing on your bottom lip before you leaned in and kissed him quickly. He hummed, happily kissing you back as one hand cupped your cheek and the other curled around your back and pulled you closer to him.

It wasn’t long before you were laid back on your bed, looking up at Javier in nothing but your bra and panties as he ran his eyes over you. You felt yourself getting shy again, shifting and moving your hands to cover your stomach. Javier was quick to grab your wrists, though, gently tugging your hands above your head. “Don’t.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your neck before making his way down, stopping briefly to press kisses and slide his tongue along your stretch marks, making you shift and your face and neck heat up.

“Eres hermosa, Diosa, no necesitas cubrirte. Demasiado hermosa para eso.” You are beautiful, Diosa, you don't need to cover yourself. Too beautiful for that. He whispered as he got between your legs, looking up towards you as he slid your panties off. You swallowed thickly and mumbled a shy thank you as he tugged your panties off and tossed them to the side, groaning at the sight of you, wet and pretty and waiting. “Been wondering all night what she looked like- tasted like. Gonna let me taste, Diosa?” He looked up at you again, brown eyes big and pleading and how could you say no to that?

You gave him a rapid nod, shifting as you spread your legs further. “Please.” You whimpered softly, chewing on your lip as he grinned before he was diving down. He started with gentle kisses pressed to your labia before spreading them and pressing a kiss to your clit. Your eyelids fluttered and your head fell back as you moaned softly.

You’d been with quite a few men, but it had been a while so you were feeling a little desperate. When his tongue reached out and slid through you, you gasped and moaned a little louder, tangling your fingers in his hair as he started massaging your clit with his tongue, moaning against you as his eyes closed.

He let go of your labia so they closed around his mouth as he sucked on your clit, one of his hands traveling down to prod lightly at your hole before guiding two of his fingers into you slowly. Your back arched and your grip on his hair tightened as you shuddered and moaned, pressing down on his fingers. “Javi..” you chewed on your lip as he started fucking you steadily with his fingers, his other hand coming up to play with your breast and twist your nipple.

He hummed against you, massaging your clit as he sucked on it, his hips pressing into the mattress as he started moaning. “Joder, qué bien sabes, Diosa. Tomando mis dedos tan bien, también.” Fuck, you taste so good, Diosa. Taking my fingers so well, too. He pulled away to speak, panting heavily as he pushed a third finger into you, licking his lips. You opened your mouth to speak but were cut off with a loud moan when he dove back in, curling his fingers directly into your gspot this time, massaging the bundle of nerves as he continued licking and sucking on your clit.

“Fuck- Javi- Javi please.” You whimpered, tugging on his hair as you looked down at him, lip trembling. Javi hummed against you and pulled away again. “Please what, sweetheart? Hm?” He asked softly, pressing a kiss to your thigh as he continued fucking you with his fingers.

“Necesito que me folles, Javi. Quiero tanto que me folles...” I need you to fuck me, Javi. I want you to fuck me so bad... you begged him, whimpering softly. “Please.”

Javi hummed softly and kissed your cheek gently. “You’re so pretty when you’re begging.” He teased, sliding up to kiss you softly, slipping his tongue into your mouth and letting you taste yourself, which wasn’t something you cared much for in the past, but when it mixed with Javi’s saliva it had you trembling.

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You weren’t sure how long you’d been going at this point, but the sun was coming up and you’d only stopped once for about ten minutes to get water and catch your breath. You didn’t think it was possible for you to cum anymore at this point but you could feel that familiar coil building up again. You’d lost count of how many times you’d cum.

“J-Javi-“ your voice was hoarse, wrecked and scratchy from screaming his name for so long. Now, though, he was pushing into you ever so gently, grinding his hips at the end of every thrust. “What, Diosa? Gonna cum again? Hm?” He purred softly, pressing harder into you. “Can feel it. She’s squeezing me so hard, baby. Just begging me to stay right here so she can drench me so good again.” He nuzzled your neck, his own voice gruff and raw as he moaned.

You were even more surprised with Javier’s ability to cum so much, not nearly as much as you but definitely more than you’d expect a man to be able to do in a matter of hours. As soon as his hand reached down, pressing just enough into your overly sensitive clit to have you screaming his name and cumming hard around him, your legs shaking and tightening around him as your nails dug into his sweaty back.

Javier groaned and started fucking into you more frantically, hands gripping your hips tightly as he groaned and huffed into your neck, offering a few more sloppy thrusts before spilling into the third condom he’s worn since you started, groaning weakly into your neck as his muscles trembled, breathing heavily.

You laid there for a moment, catching your breath before Javier slowly slid out and fell next to you. He panted heavily and slid the condom off, tossing it into your trashcan with the others. “… holy shit.” You whispered softly, swallowing thickly as Javier chuckled and pulled you close.

“We’ll get up soon to clean up and shower. Pretty sure neither of us can walk right now.” “I’d fucking say. How the hell did you do that?” You looked at him wide eyed as he furrowed his brows curiously. “What do you mean?” “Javi- you came like four times- we used three condoms.” Javier shrugged a little. “Happens when you have a sexy ass girl underneath you.”

Your cheeks warmed up and you shook your head shyly as he gripped your ass and kissed your neck. “Take a little nap. I’ll wake you up soon.” He promised. “This is my house.” “Yeah, well, I’m a cop and I’ll arrest you.” “You can’t arrest me for not taking a nap.” “Failure to cooperate with law enforcement is against the law.” You huffed and pushed his face away before laying your head on his chest. “I should thank Chucho when I get home later.” You heard him mumble before the sleep took over your mind, leaving you unable to respond.

You’d have to thank him yourself, maybe bake him some of those cookies he liked so much. And then you’ll shame him for not warning you that his son was that damn charismatic. Or telling you how to contact him sooner.

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I hope you enjoyed this! Been working a lot lately but I was finally able to finish it!

#pedro pascal #narcos #javier peña asks #javier peña x reader smut #javier peña smut #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña narcos #javier peña x reader #javier peña #Javier Peña oneshot

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angelofsmalldeath-codeine · 7 months

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Hemmy's Recommendation List | Javier Peña - Part 2

Javier Peña - Part 2

Hi! I am Hemmy and live in a delusional world where I am the female companion to Frankie Morales, Joel Miller and Javier Peña. The amazing banner by the incredible @proxima-writes @pr0ximamidnight; mid-banners and dividers by @cafekitsune

This is my first-ever recommendation list and I am trying to figure out the best format.

These are fics that I have read and enjoyed. I am sure there are many more out there that I have yet to discover. If you have any suggestions, please comment so we can all add them to our 'to be read' lists.

Link to Masterlist

Self-plug: if you need a beta reader or want help with Spanish for the ones who write Javi P and Frankie, hit me up!

Disclaimer:

These creators are putting out content for free and do not have to cater to your personal preferences or expectations of how this or that character should be written.

You are not forced to read through it. Feel free to abandon a series or one-shot halfway through if it is not working for you.

If a creator has not explicitly asked for feedback for their work, keep your opinion to yourself.

Heed warnings and tags, if you don't like soft!Javi, don't read anything with that tag. It is THAT simple. Apply that logic to everything else that is not to your taste.

Warnings and tags on each fic. Read at your discretion. You are responsible for the content you choose to consume.

Javier Peña - Part 2

GIF by spookycora

Series - cont.

Love, Javier @itsjustsemantics Married Javier Peña Masterlist @lokischocolatefountain Mi Cielo @venusandromedadjarin Mi Luz @pedrostylez Monday Morning @joels-darlin More Than Just Friends @darkroastjoel Not Qualified For This @blueeyesatnight Nowhere To Run @mvrdvckmvtthew @metalnecklace Nowhere To Run @undercoverpena-fics Paperwork @blueeyesatnight Paranoid Heart @goodwithcheese Perfectly Intoxicating @gracieispunk Ring @notjustjavierpena-fics Running Like Water @freshlyrage Salvatore @devilmademewriteit Saturdays With Javier @wildemaven Scathed Series @dancingtotuyo Scenes From A Marriage @pennyserenade Secret Smile @thelightsandtheroses-fics She's Got The Tickets @vanemando15 Somewhere To Start @chloeangelic There Was Heavens In Your Eyes @metalnecklace When Javi Met @jedifarmer Worth The Wait @kteague You Are My Best Friend @autumnleaves1991-blog

One Shots

A Whole New Man @jawabear Again @javierpena-inatacvest Arde Tu Piel @fhatbhabie Arepas @undercoverpena-fics Back to December @nonexistent-introvert Comatose @absurdthirst Coming Home @undercoverpena-fics Cookies & Whiskey @jake-g-lockley Dance With Me? @beecastle Every Inch @javierpena-inatacvest Family Recipe @beecastle I Can See You @proxima-writes I Got You @yeollie-plz I'd Love To See Me From Your POV @tightjeansjavi Just Keep Breathing @swiftispunk Let Me Be Your Anchor @beecastle Meant to Be @wildemaven Mi Cielo @pedrostylez Missed You @pedrostylez Over & Done With @loquaciousferret Phone Sex… Amrite? @tightjeansjavi Picture Perfect @absurdthirst Pool Sex With Javi P @tightjeansjavi Rendezvous @frannyzooey Say No To Me @lokischocolatefountain Stubborn When It Comes To This @metalnecklace Sunburn @metalnecklace Sweet Dreams @javiscigarette Swipe His Nose Like A Credit Card @tightjeansjavi Take Me Where Your Heart Is @pennyserenade Tanlines @metalnecklace The Third Date @lowlights Tie Me Up Like I'm Surprised @tightjeansjavi You Are My Home @javierpena-inatacvest You'll Always Have Me @eideticallys

Link to Masterlist

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mlmxreader · 2 years

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Such Long Nights | Javier Peña x gn!reader

Anonymous asked: "Do you ever think about if birds have feelings?" "It's four in the morning. Shut up."

for a Javier Peña x gn!reader fic? 🥺

Reader asks a lot of silly questions and he acts like he gets annoyed but secretly he hopes they never stop because adores it.

summary: it’s so late at night, Javier’s exhausted and can hardly stay awake, but when you ask him a certain question, he can’t stop from breaking.

tws: swearing, smoking

word count: 1067

It was four in the morning, the clock not long struck the hour as you crept downstairs for a quick cigarette, groggy and a little irritated because you couldn’t find any answers to the question you so desperately wanted to find out; when you saw your boyfriend, Javier, stood against the counter and smoking a cigarette, you smiled. He worked so hard and his shifts were getting longer, Steve would call you and ask you to pick your boyfriend up from time to time when he was about to pass out at his desk, and you couldn’t help but to feel bad for him. He deserved to rest, he deserved a break but the bosses were on his ass about this whole Escobar thing and he hardly had time to steal away for more than a few minutes; you frowned as you looked at him, brows knitting together when you took note of how fucking tired he was. The bags under his eyes and the yawns he tried to hold down so harshly; you thought about using your usual trick to make him smile, asking dumb questions that you already knew the answer to, questions he always said he was annoyed with but could never hide the smile behind his eyes. The amusement within the brown. You figured you could at least try, so you shoved the other question from your mind and, upon lighting up a cigarette, dared to ask:

“Do you ever think about if birds have feelings?”

“It’s four in the morning. Shut up.” Javier growled, but as always, the amusement in his brown eyes was more than evident, and thankfully, he was too tired to fight back the smile this time. “Thank you.”

You shrugged, sitting up on the counter and patting the cold surface gently, daring to smile when he sat up on it, his shoulder pressed into yours. “You’re fucking exhausted, why don’t you ask for a couple days off?”

Javier shook his head, hanging it for a moment as he took a long drag from his cigarette; his skin was so warm, no shirt and just his boxers as he leaned into you, daring to relax when he knew that you were there. When he knew that he was home. “I can’t, the boss said I can take a break when this is over with - said I can take as much time off as I need.”

“I’m not fucking having that,” you growled softly, shaking your head as you clenched your jaw. “I’ll go down to your fucking boss’s office tomorrow and I’ll fucking make them give you a day off and I’ll-”

“Please don’t,” he dared to laugh softly as he ran a hand through his hair. “Just… ask me another stupid question, please?”

“Alright,” you nodded. “Do you ever wonder if weed makes us sober but oxygen makes us high?”

He couldn’t hold back the laugh that escaped him as he fondly shook his head; some of the questions you asked were really dumb, really downright stupid, but… he knew that you did it for him. He knew that you only asked him those questions because you knew that they would make him smile, and if he was honest, he really needed that right now; he might have usually acted like he was annoyed, might have acted like he wouldn’t give you the time of day for such idiotic nonsense, but… but he loved it when it was your idiotic nonsense, and he really did appreciate it more than he let on. Truly. Javier really, really needed that laughter, after the shift he had had, he really needed it.

“You’re an idiot, (y/n). There’s… chemicals and shit in weed that make you high.”

“How do you know there’s not chemicals in oxygen?” You asked, daring to raise your brow as you did your best not to break and start laughing; you could see Javier start to shake a little as he tried to hold his own laughter back.

The snort that came from the back of his throat was what made you break though, and as you tried to laugh quietly, a low-pitched and almost inhuman sounding noise left you, and caused you laugh even more while Javier sat back for a moment, just to look at you; to get a good look at you and think of how many times you had done this. How many times you had made him smile and laugh with your stupid questions, even if he knew that they weren’t really ones that were on your mind. He should have told you more often ,he should have been more obvious about it, about the fact that he really did appreciate it when he had had such long nights and even longer days; he should have been more appreciative of you. He should have made it known.

The best he could do was to put his hand on your shoulder and pull you back when you looked like you were about to fall off of the counter, a soft look in his eyes and a smile upon his lips. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out, nodding. “My ribs hurt, though.”

Scoffing, Javier leaned against you again, a soft hum escaping the back of his throat as he nodded. “Wanna go back to bed?”

“Yeah,” you gestured for the ashtray, and when he gave it to you, you quickly stubbed your cigarette out. “Javi?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re a great guy,” you told him softly, getting off of the counter and taking his hand so that you could pull him down. Your hand didn’t drop his until you got to the bedroom.

You let him get into the bed first, before you dared to get in and cuddle into his side, pulling the duvet up around your shoulders as you sighed heavily and grumbled; the feeling of Javier’s hand drifting up and down your skin gently as he stared up at the ceiling for a moment.

“I wanted to ask earlier,” you started, “and I know it’s gonna sound stupid, but I really, really, need you to answer so… please don’t laugh?”

“I won’t.”

“Can we get a dog?” You asked softly. “There’s a rescue place down the road, they take in all the old sniffer dogs and I was just thinking, y’know, since we’d talked about it here and there before… maybe it’s time?”

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; if you don't wanna reblog, then you'll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM. don't just "like", REBLOG

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thatredheadwriter · 2 years

Text

Ruin

javier peña x reader

Alright, this one was sitting in my drafts for a while, missing like a paragraph and a half right in the middle. It got tucked away and I completely forgot about it, but I found it when I was doing a little digital cleanup and I finished it. So here’s some dom!Javi, courtesy of me actually trying to get my shit together.

This is an NSFW oneshot for female reader with Javier Peña of Narcos. This work contains smut and mature language and should not be read by those under 18. As a writer, I will attempt to make accurate warnings for each of my fics, however, I cannot guarantee that I will identify each and every sensitive topic. My works regularly contain swearing, allusions to/mentions of sex, and canon-level violence.

Warnings Include (but are not limited to):

friends/coworkers with benefits

Mentions of alcohol and tobacco

My attempts at Spanish (translations at the end)

swearing

Oral (male receiving)

Oral (female receiving)

Dirty talk

dom!Javier

inexperienced!reader

Pet names

Praise

Slight degradation

training/corruption kink

Unprotected P in V penetrative sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy)

Kinda belt kink (Javi just does something to me man)

Sir kink

Hair pulling

Slight choking

creampie

posessive!Javi

Javi being the KING of aftercare

Please read at your own discretion and consume your fanfiction responsibly.

You ran your sweaty palms down the denim on your thighs. You were unprepared, nervous. It wasn’t that you hadn’t tried to do some research, but all you could find on ‘how to give your partner a blowjob’ were magazine articles filled with thinly-veiled innuendos and vague tips. But you were determined to follow through with this.

Javi hadn’t asked, never even brought it up. But the DEA’s resident asshole was a surprisingly attentive lover, and he’d eaten you out more times than you could count. In fact, you could count the times he’d fucked you without making you cum before he even entered you on one hand.

On your side, however, you’d hardly returned the favor. Aside from some heavy petting when the two of you would make out, and the one handjob you’d given him on your couch, fuelled by a lot of tequila and sexual tension, all the pleasure Javi got from you was the old-fashioned way. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to perform oral sex on him, more like you weren’t quite sure how. Not sure how to initiate it, and sure as hell not sure how to actually carry through with the act.

But last night, after Javi gave you so many earth-shattering orgasms you’d forgotten everything but his name, you were more determined than ever to repay the favor. So now you were committed. Which is why you sat on your couch, looking nervous as a hooker in church, waiting for Javi to sneak over from his place next door.

You were purposefully wearing your favorite jeans, appreciating the confidence boost that came from having your ass look perfect. Your breasts were bare under your thin tank top, nipples pebbling through the fabric despite the sticky hot air of Medellín in the summer.

When you heard the telltale knock at your door, you jumped up from your seat far too quickly and all but ran to open it. As soon as you did, Javi sucked in a breath through his teeth. A light sheen of sweat covered your cleavage and he couldn’t help the way his eyes raked across your exposed neck and shoulders. A blank canvas perfect for the bite of his teeth and the burn of his stubble as he worked his way over you.

You didn’t have time to lock the door before you were pinned up against it, one of his knees slotted between your thighs, his thick arms caging you in so there was no escape from the reality of Javier Peña. Once he finally came up for air, your head falling back against the door as he began a planned assault against your neck, you were already drunk on him.

“Muñeca, always so perfect for me,” he growls into your ear as one of his large hands comes up to palm your breast through the thin fabric of your shirt. His lips swallow the whine from yours as he rolls a nipple between two fingers, pinching lightly.

It takes all your training and experience as an agent to pull your brain from the haze of bliss that Javi induces in you so easily. You have a purpose this evening, and you’re not chickening out. You manage to plant both hands on his broad chest, covered by his red button-down, a known favorite of yours, and push slightly to get his attention.

“Hey,” you panted out, your forehead resting on his. “I, uh, I…”

Javi stopped everything he was doing instantly, moving his hands to rest respectfully at your waist as he pulled away a bit to look at you properly.

“What is it, muñeca?” his thumbs rubbed soothing circles over your stomach, brow furrowed deep with concern.

You swallowed hard, steeling your nerves before meeting his eyes again. “I want to try something.”

“For you, I’ll try almost anything,” he chuckles, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

Now it was your turn to chuckle. “Well, actually, I guess you would say it’s more for you,” you finished your sentence with a smirk. As Javi tried to decipher what in the hell that could mean, you turned and locked the door properly, including the deadbolt and security chain, before taking his hand and tugging him over to your couch.

“Ok, so, I guess I’ve been wanting to do this for a while, I’m just not really sure how,” you sat next to him, your knee pressed up against his.

“Just tell me already, princesa,” he laughed, “You’re making me nervous.”

As long and hard as you’d tried to piece the words together, you couldn’t find a way to say them that didn’t make you want to dive under the floorboards and hide until doomsday. So if words were going to fail you, maybe you could tell him some other way.

So instead of answering him, you put one hand on his knee and used it as a grip to lower yourself onto the rug below, shuffling to kneel between his spread thighs. You ran your hands up and down the denim of his jeans, focusing on his inner thighs and hopefully getting the message across.

It wasn’t until you looked up into his eyes, your lashes fluttering innocently as you got him all worked up that he realized what you wanted.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his eyes blowing wide with lust. Encouraged by his reaction, your hands finally made it to the buckle of his belt. The one you’d stared at for months before that first night in the stakeout car. The same one that’d he’d used to restrain you as he gave you the fucking of a lifetime, more than once.

But as you went to undo it, one of Javi’s hands came to rest over your own, effectively stopping you in your tracks. You were instantly afraid you’d done something wrong, or that he wasn’t in the mood for this right now, but when you looked up at him, he wore a devilish grin.

“My girl’s a little eager, isn’t she?” he asked, cocking his head to look at you like a naughty pet or an irksome child.

You nodded solemnly, biting down on your lower lip and trying to contain the whimper that threatened to slip out.

He smiled then, and the hand that covered your own moved to card through your hair, before harshly tugging it back, making you gasp.

“I like words, remember,” he raised a brow at your parted lips. He knew how much you loved having your hair pulled, and he knew just the right ways to pull to get you riled. “Don’t make me remind you again.”

You nodded hastily when he released you, swallowing the excess saliva that had pooled in your mouth at his actions before managing out a meek, “Yes, sir.”

His smile was back, like sunshine after a beautiful rainstorm. “Good girl. Now, do you want my cock in your mouth, princesa?”

Another nod, another “yes sir.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

Your cheeks flamed and you took a shaky breath. “I-I want your cock i-in my mouth, sir.”

Above you, Javi beamed with pride. Despite all your confidence in your career as an agent, you often lacked it in your personal life. When the two of you first started fucking, you were nervous about letting him see you with the lights on. Now you were dressing up for him and wanting to give him a blow job.

“Good girl, I’m so proud of you,” he ran a thumb along your bottom lip, tilting your chin up to look at him. “Never be afraid to tell me what you want.”

This time you only nodded in response, but he let it slide.

“Have you ever had a cock in your mouth before, muñeca?” he asked, still playing with your bottom lip.

“No,” you shook your head, before remembering to add the ‘sir’ that he loved to hear so much.

His head fell back on the couch cushions and the low groan that slipped from his lips reverberated all the way down to your core, making you leak into your panties.

“Jesus, querida,” he swore, “You’re going to be the death of me. So you want me to teach you how to suck cock?”

“I want you to teach me how to suck your cock, sir,” you corrected him innocently.

He murmured some things low and fast under his breath that you couldn’t quite catch. “Gonna turn you into my little cocksucking whore. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” you said too quickly, making his eyes crinkle as he smiled at you. “I wanna make you feel good like you make me feel good.”

“Come here,” he opened his arms for you to crawl up into him, and he placed you to sit firmly on his thigh. He repeated his earlier action of moving that same strand of hair back behind your ear.

“You know you don’t have to do this, not if you don’t want to,” his eyes leveled with yours, searching for any apprehension on your face.

“I want to, Javi.” The use of his name let him know you were still all there, not floating on a cloud of sexed-out bliss. You really did want this.

“Ok, I’ll teach you then, but you’ve gotta know a few things,” his hand came to grip your hip, a favorite spot of his. Under your clothes were still tiny bruises from the last time he’d fucked you.

“First of all, you’re not going to get it right away. It’ll take practice. I don’t want you to hurt yourself, querida, so don’t try to do too much for your first time.”

“Got it, take it slow, don’t get ahead of myself,” you repeated back to him, earning a nod.

“The most important thing is to relax, and breathe through your nose. If you need to take a break or something’s wrong, you just tap my leg twice, ok?”

“Tap twice if I need a break,” you nodded along. You were practically vibrating in excitement now, and Javi could definitely sense it.

“You ready, princesa?” he placed a light kiss at the edge of your collarbone before lightly nipping at the spot, making you shiver.

“Yes, sir,” you all but purred, waiting for him to release his grip on you so that you could finally.

“Why don’t you strip for me, querida,” he let go of your hips and leaned back against the couch, watching smugly as you stood and pulled the tank top over your head. Your jeans were next, popping the button and shimmying out of them. It wasn’t as sexy as it could have been, but you were excited.

As your fingers hooked in the waistband of your panties–a gray cotton pair with lace trim, nothing spectacular–Javi stopped you.

“Leave them on,” he said with a wink, “I want to run a little experiment.”

The way he said the word ‘experiment’ sent a chill down your spine, so you happily obliged and dropped to your knees on the patterned rug of your living room, hands once more settling on Javi’s muscular thighs as he watched you with hooded eyes.

“Can I see you?” you looked up at him with big doe eyes, and he knew exactly what you wanted. As much as you loved his ass in his jeans or the way his eyes popped in that shirt, you loved seeing him bare even more, feeling the heat of him all around you.

“When you look so pretty on your knees for me, how can I say no?” he grinned as he began undoing the buttons of his shirt, quickly stripping it off and tossing it to the side. Next came his belt, and you couldn’t miss the way your cunt throbbed as he slid it from his belt loops, the brown leather flashing before your eyes.

Finally, he undid the top button of his jeans and slid the zipper down. You didn’t have to see to know Javi was going commando. He usually did, especially when he was coming over from his place down the hall to yours for just this kind of recreational activity.

The muscles of his stomach flexed as he lifted his ass off the couch and slid his jeans down. You couldn’t help the way you bit your lip when his cock finally sprang free, already hard and dripping precum. You had to help him get his jeans the rest of the way off, and soon they joined his shirt and belt on the other end of the couch.

With him bare before you, you could feel the nerves creeping up the back of your throat, but you let the feeling of Javi’s warm thighs under your hands ground you in the moment and focused on your breathing.

Leaning forward carefully, you started by placing a kiss to his weeping tip, earning you a shaky sigh from the man above you. Tentatively, you offered a kitten lick. The taste of him was salty but not unpleasant. Encouraged by the way his fingers dug into the couch cushions, you began working your way down towards his balls. Knowing you wouldn’t be able to fit all of him in your mouth, at least not this first time, you knew you’d need plenty of spit for your hand to work the base of him.

Once his length was sufficiently slick from your spit, you added a hand to the equation, working him up and down and relishing the way his breath hitched as you found the right mix of pressure and speed. You knew you could make Javi cum just like this, and he would be just as grateful as if you had deepthroated him, but this was something you wanted to do. So pumping him a few more times with your hand, you decided to try and take him in your mouth for the first time.

You didn’t expect the weight of him on your tongue, or the way you were enveloped in a cloud of his scent. It was something musky and smoky and undeniably him. The pleased hum that slipped out of you surprised you both, but any worry that it was the wrong thing to do was gone the second a deep groan echoed from deep within his chest.

“Fuck, baby,” his eyes were already squeezed shut, hands balled into fists by his thighs, “Keep doing that and I’m not gonna last.”

You just hummed again, and tentatively bobbed your head up and down a couple of times, staying shallow and letting your hands cover most of his length. Curses and praises spilled from his lips as he fought to keep his composure. The sight of you, innocent and curious on your knees before him was nearly enough to take him over.

When you tried to go deeper, you got just over halfway when your gag reflex kicked in, and you pulled back abruptly, panting and spluttering for breath. A long line of saliva connected your lips and the tip of Javi’s dick, a sight you never expected to be so erotic, but it had you rubbing your thighs together.

“Easy, muñeca, breathe,” he panted, still staying in control for you.

You nodded, taking a deep breath before licking another stripe up the underside of him and taking him in your mouth once more. This time, you knew where you could get to before it would trigger that pesky gag reflex, and you took him as deep as you could and held him there. In the meantime, you worked your hands and tongue. This combination seemed to really get under his skin, soon Javi was gripping the cushions of the couch so hard you were afraid he’d rip them.

“Fuck, you’re good at this. Feel so good around me, querida,” he moaned. His hips jumped forward and suddenly he was in your throat again. You gagged a little, but it wasn’t quite as bad as the first time. The burn was already becoming familiar, and you were quickly associating it with the growing ache in your lower belly.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” Javi sat up all the way as you coughed a little, hot tears streaking down your cheeks. His thumbs brushed them away as he cradled your face in his large hands, searching for any sign that he’d hurt you.

“It’s ok, Javi,” you reassured him, though your voice was a little raspy, “I-I liked it.”

Another wave of dampness flooded your core as he groaned.

“My innocent little princess…not so innocent,” he hummed, smiling slightly as he leaned forward to pull you into one of his all-consuming kisses. A whimper slipped from your lips to his as he reached down to knead your exposed breast. Then he was pulling you again, lifting you up onto the couch.

“But, I wanna finish,” you pouted, pulling away from him. Javi just laughed, biting on your bottom lip.

“Trust me, baby, there’ll be other times for that,” he growled, slipping his hand between your bodies and to the obvious damp spot on your panties.

When his fingers tapped at your clothed entrance, you jumped in his embrace. It wasn’t enough, you needed so much more, and you knew exactly what he had to give.

“Dripping for me, yeah?” he teased, making you gasp into his shoulder. “Just a needy little thing, gettin’ all wet from sucking me off.”

“Please,” you begged, fingers curling into the flesh of his shoulders.

“Please what?” he mocked your tone of voice.

“Fuck, Javi,” you whined, “Please fuck me. Need you.”

“Now, you know usually I’d make you ask nicely, but since you sucked my cock so good, I think you’re due for a reward,” his hands grabbed your ass harshly and you tried your hardest to stay still. “Bend over the couch for me baby,” he ordered, with a playful swat to your ass.

You practically scrambled to comply, not even stopping to take off your panties. The first time Javi had undressed you–in the bedroom, not just with his eyes–he’d explained that sometimes he liked unwrapping his own presents. The possessiveness of his statement sent a chill down your spine even as you watched him stand from the couch and stalk around towards you.

The rough pads of his fingers ghosted along the flesh of your hips and hooked into the waistband of your panties. He was slower than you thought possible, and you could practically hear him smile when you gasped as the air hit your slick for the first time.

Suddenly his tongue was probing at your folds from behind, his large hands splayed across your ass to give him room to work. Your hips bucked into the frame of the couch and you resisted the urge to reach back and tug at his hair. One finger and then another slipped inside you, but only for a moment.

You whined at the loss of contact, but you could still hear the sound of Javi sucking his fingers clean.

“Lo siento, soy adicto a este coño,” he crooned in your ear as the tip of his cock dragged against your slit languidly. All the breath left your body when he filled you, bottoming out in one unfaltering thrust.

He didn’t stay there for long, he pulled nearly all the way out before slamming back in, quickly setting a brutal pace that had your toes curling and your fingers fisting the cushions underneath you.

His name fell from your lips like a blasphemous prayer, but the only one meant to hear it was him. When his hand tangled in your hair for the second time that night, you wondered to you yourself if he was some kind of mind reader.

As he pulled you to his chest, the new angle allowed him to hit that spot that made you see stars and you couldn’t help but cry out.

“¿Quién te folla tan bien?” he growled. His hand moving from your hair to wrap around your throat, not yet applying pressure, told you it was not a hypothetical.

“You!” you cried, “It’s you, Javi.”

“Say my name,” he hissed.

“Javier!” you practically screamed.

His lips on your neck were a soft contrast to his hips that were stuttering in and out of you at an unbelievable pace. Javi’s hot mouth on your skin helped to ground you as the coil tightened low in your belly.

The hand on your hip slipped between your thighs and found the little bundle of nerves where he rubbed fast and hard, your slick easily coating his fingers.

“I’m gonna cum,” you warned, clenching around him.

“Cum,” he ordered. The hand around your throat applied the slightest pressure at your pulse points just as his fingers seemed to have unlocked the perfect rhythm. As you came, you were vaguely aware of him whispering in your ear, “Te voy a arruinar por cualquier otro hombre.”

When the last waves of pleasure rolled through your body, Javi released you gently to lay against the couch as he chased his own high, his hips faltering as he got close, before finally spilling into you with a final thrust.

He didn’t move for a minute, his weight still comfortably present against your back. When he was ready to get up, he did so slowly. The space in between your shoulder blades was peppered with kisses as gentle hands ran over your skin, bringing you back to the real world.

“You with me, querida?” he finally asked as he pulled out, and you winced at the feeling against your sensitive flesh.

You nodded tiredly, squirming underneath him so you could face him, hold him like he held you. No, the two of you weren’t romantically involved, but Javi knew how important aftercare was, and even though he’d never admit it, he was even more touch starved than you.

The two of you ended up on the couch, a tangled mess of limbs as the sun sank below the horizon outside. A stray hand played with your hair as one of yours traced the scars of his chest. There were no words to fill the silence, but none were needed. A small part of your heart was already broken. It fell in love with Javier Peña long before you ever slept with him, and it was the same part of you that constantly reminded you that this would only end badly.

But maybe it wouldn’t. And so what if it did. Whoever said the best things in life are free was an idiot. The best things in life break your heart, shatter your soul, and leave you behind to pick up the pieces. You pay for the best things in blood and sweat and tears. The best things in life are the best because they hurt, they make your heart ache, and they make you long to be a better person, a different person. And as far as you were concerned, Javier Peña was the best thing you’d ever met.

As he drifted off underneath you, you were thinking about what he said as you came, and you couldn’t help but whisper, “Ya los has hecho.”

Muñeca = doll

Princesa = princess

Querida = dear

Lo siento, soy adicto a este coño. = Sorry, I’m addicted to this pussy.

¿Quién te folla tan bien? = Who fucks you so good?

Te voy a arruinar por cualquier otro hombre. = I’m going to ruin you for any other man.

Ya los has hecho. = You’ve already done it.

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pedro-pedrito-pascalito · 1 year

Text

Do you ever look at someone and wonder, What is going on inside their head?

Javi eyeing you up and down, thinking about what he'd do with you, knowing full well that you are off limits.

#javi #please someone write a oneshot or smth??#i am your cool slutty queue #smug mf here #narcos #javi pena #javier pena #narcos edit #myedit #pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #javi x reader #javier peña #javier pena x reader

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postmortemnivis · 2 months

Text

"why're you here?"

you never knew much about javier peña.

his voice was always sharp anytime you tried to ask for something about him, and you felt so pathetic each time he’d snap at you after your sweet toned questions. you’d tried to tell yourself that maybe he was just shy or reserved, but you knew too well he wasn’t either of the two.

what you did know for a fact was that he would never call before 11, he’d never talk much about himself—whether it was his personal life or his family—and he didn’t care how long he’d been ignoring you; he’d still call without shame, and then he knew how to hit all your right spots.

“hello?”

it had been almost three weeks since you had last seen javier. at first you felt bad, mostly about yourself, you knew the way you were letting him treat you was shit, but then you started missing him. how pathetic of you, you repeated to yourself any time your mind would linger on him for too long. he could sweet talk you into murder.

“¿cariño?” a husky voice asked.

you checked the time on your watch, but you knew who it could be. it was twelve minutes before midnight, right on the spot.

“yes?” you sighed into the phone, holding it tighter, scared you would break it.

“why’re you still up?” javier asked, and you could hear him inhale from his cigarette. that you knew, that he would always be seen with a cigarette between his lips. maybe that’s what you missed about him: the smell of smoke, whiskey and something woody that you couldn't get your head around.

you were pretty sure that your craving, your depency, your addiction-like to him was caused by all the cigarettes he’d smoke around you, you’d grown addicted to them too, therefore, to him. knowing the man as much as you did, he could’ve done that on purpose.

“what if you woke me up?” you asked back. was being smart a good idea? with peña, probably not.

not as if you had been waiting days for this call.

he coldly chuckled. “i saw a light in your apartment still on about ten minutes ago.”

“you were under my apartment ten minutes ago?”

“ajá,” he said, exhaling now, “drove past it and stopped for a while.”

“for a while?” you sporadically would glance at the street outside during the dark hours: when living in medellín, it was best to keep your mouth shut and eyes closed, better not to see anything that could cause you troubles.

“more or less forty minutes.”

“what’d you do for forty minutes under my apartment?” you walked to the big windows in your living room, which overlooked the street. moving the curtain with your fingers, you checked the silent and empty street. nobody to be seen.

“lookin’,” javier inhaled again, “at you. what i could see, your silhouette from the curtains. always told you that place didn’t give you any privacy.”

“why didn’t you come up and say hi?” you asked.

were you… teasing him? how pathetic of you, you thought.

the man sighed. “want me to come up and say hi?”

“well,” you sat on the couch, “you haven’t talked to me in three weeks, that would be nice.”

“three weeks, already?”

“time flies when you’re having fun.” you almost snapped. that would make him win the little stupid game he was playing. you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. you brought both of your knees under your chin as you leaned on the backrest. deep breaths.

“i’ll come over now then.” he said.

“i’m going to bed now,” you tried to stop him, playing disinterested, but you could hear the hesitation in your voice yourself, “maybe another time?”

“i’m already dressed, nena.” he said and before you could complain again, he hung up.

it was after ten minutes, the time that took from his place to yours, that you heard a knock on the front door .

“cariño.” javier peña greeted as you opened the door. he was leaning his shoulder on the doorframe, arms crossed. how cliché of him.

“javier.” you crossed your arms over your chest, imitating him.

he stared down at you for a brief second before you realized, the worn out dark grey shirt you were wearing was his. it was too big on you, reached almost halfway through your thighs, just below your ass so the curve was still visible, and he wondered if you were wearing anything underneath. he hoped for those cute light pink panties, the ones with a hole on the side from him pulling the lace down too harshly once, the last time you two saw each other.

“you left it here, after a week of no reclaiming it becomes mine.” you said, trying to defend yourself as he stepped into your apartment, and you closed the door, locking it.

“i don’t care, quédatelo.” he breathed, sinking into your couch, not even bothering to remove his shoes or his jeans jacket.

you stared at him as he took his gun out of the back of his jeans and placed it on your coffee table along with his badge.

“what, aren’t you gonna ask me if i want anything to drink?” javier smirked.

you rolled your eyes before making your way into the kitchen. “want something to drink?”

“no,” he said from the living room, but you could hear his grin “i wouldn’t want you to feel constrained.”

you walked back to the living room, rolling your eyes once more.

“javier, listen-”

“javi,” he interrupted you, his dark brown eyes not leaving yours, “not javier. go on, nena.”

you looked at him, he was waiting for you to keep talking as he got himself comfortable, spreading his legs open like the whore he was. he knew your eyes would linger on the bulge in his jeans for one second too long.

“javi,” you sighed, and the texan nodded. it wasn’t like you never called him javi, but now he was on your nerves, or at least you had to pretend he was, “you can’t keep doing this…”

“what?” he asked, his arms on the headrest of the couch, finally comfortable.

“this.” you waved your hands in the air. “you’ve been ignoring me for weeks, almost a full month.”

“i’ve been busy.” he said, before adding, “with work.”

you rolled your eyes. you’ve known him for months and he always used that excuse. sure, trying to catch the most dangerous narcoterrorist drug lord in the world did take away a lot of his time, but one call?

“you know it keeps me busy, cariño.” he sighed, and you thought he was trying to convince himself more than you.

“i don’t believe it.”

he raised both his eyebrows, tilting his head slightly lower. “no?”

“no.” you spat, crossing your arms in front of him. “i don’t believe you’ve been busy for three whole weeks, day and night.”

“i was away too,” he said, getting up from the couch and walking closer to you, “they sent me to chile for a while.”

“and they don’t have phones there?” you asked as he softly took you by your elbows and drew you closer.

he didn’t reply.

“bizarre, i thought you remembered my number since you’ve called me multiple times from pay phones.”

he sighed again, his face closer to yours. “i’m sorry nena, i really am.”

“for…? disappearing from my life every two months?”

he shook his head. “no… actually yes.”

his big hands grazed your hips, slowly sliding on your soft skin, underneath the hem of the shirt.

“either yes or no, peña.”

he nodded. “yes, i’m sorry. perdóname.”

you shook your head. “not so easily.”

he tilted his head to the side, like an animal seeing something unfamiliar for the first time.

“it’s honestly… exhausting having to put up with you, you know?”

he nodded, chuckling as you put little force into trying to push his chest away.

“exhausting…” he repeated on your lips and you nodded, your arms wrapping around his neck instinctively, “now, now.”

“extremely.” you nodded, biting back a smirk.

“i can imagine…” his lips brushed over your jaw, his tone still teasing and unserious. he never took his actions seriously, at least not with you. he was a beast outside your apartment, one of the most dreaded dea agents there were, but with you—it was different, he’d return to his almost boyish personality. he needed someone he could be himself with, his old calm and immature self.

“i’m so serious this once, peña.” you muttered, your eyes looking at the ceiling as he started kissing your neck, your fingers resting on the base of the back of his neck, twirling the ends of his hair.

“oh, i know you are, cariño, i know how serious you are.” javier breathed on your neck as he lazily kissed it up and down.

you sighed again. you knew how serious you were.

“javi…” you sighed.

“mhm?”

“why're you here?” you asked, looking anywhere but into his eyes

he stopped and took your chin in his hand. “mírame.”

in the months you had spent together–and not–you had learned to recognize and understand most of the phrases of spanish he usually muttered to himself, picking them up. pride and joy were displayed on his face anytime you’d tried to repeat something yourself, even if you got some pronunciations or verbs wrong, he'd praise you as if you had just given a speech on micromedicine or astrophysics.

that was what fucked your mind, he made you feel so special.

“why are you here, javi?” you asked again.

“can’t i see my favorite girl anymore?”

you rolled your eyes. what about the other girls? you bit your tongue from asking.

“you don’t bother to call but now you want to see me?” your eyes looked up into his, looking for some answer behind them.

he shrugged. “i know you think i’m an asshole.”

“oh, i know you are, believe me, i know.”

he rolled his eyes.

“cmon i wanna make it up to you cariño.” javier’s voice was as confident as always, he knew he had you in the palm of his hand, you’d do anything, you’d listen.

“mh, how?”

“i’ve got a few ideas in mind…” he grinned.

you shook you head. “nah-uh.”

“nah-uh?” he asked, tilting his head to the side once again as his brows furrowed.

“no.” you remarked, “i’m not one of your prostitutes, javi. you can’t just… fuck me and leave me like a doll, y’know?”

“you sure do look like one-”

one of his whores or a doll? you’d ask that later.

“save it.” you bit back a grin.

“can’t compliment you anymore?” he raised an eyebrow, a smirk crawling upon his face.

you shook your head, placing your hands on his broad chest. “i’m not something you can use and toss, you know? it hurts me. you hurt me.”

his cold heart, that usually barely cared about himself, let alone other people, seemed to miss a beat.

javier knew he hurt you, how he was hurting you and how’d he hurt you. he knew he was a selfish person, so selfish he didn’t even care about himself. was it fear of commitment? his incapability to love? he could fool you and everyone else but he could not fool himself. he just didn’t care enough.

“i’m sorry nena.”

“are you?” you placed your hands on your hips, “are you, really?”

“you know i am.”

bullshit. deep down you both knew it was bullshit.

“mhm…” you hummed. “i just feel-”

“im sorry.” javi repeated, “you know it hurts me too to stay away from you.”

“does it, now?”

he sighed. “it… does.”

“doesn’t look like it.” you comment.

“well, im sorry i don’t cry if you don’t call me every other hour.”

“hypocrite.” you spit.

javier peña was a man of patience, he liked to think of himself as one, but really his temper and anger often took over him. with you, it was different, you rarely poked a reaction out of him. you knew javi as a calm and charming man, not the irascible, short tempered boy he was still inside.

“what?”

“you heard me.” you look up at him as you finally distance your bodies. “a goddamn hypocrite, that’s what you are, javier. you can’t treat me like this!”

“i’m not treating you-” he attempted to defend himself before one of your neighbours yelled something through the walls.

cállense todos!

it was after midnight, and you couldn’t blame them.

“you treat me like one of the whores you can call up anytime you feel like fucking.”

“i don’t do that.”

“last time i saw you, and the one before that and the one before that too.”

“don’t talk like i'm holding you prisoner.” javier remarked, trying to keep his voice down this time. “you can ignore my calls if you feel that way.”

“oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?” you took a step closer to him, an accusatory finger pointing at him, “so i’m out of your hair for good.”

“yeah, do that, one problem less.” he rolled his eyes.

he pinched the bridge of his nose as his other hand went to rest on his as your eyes started watering.

“you know- you know i care about you.”

you shook your head, walking to your bedroom.

he sighed, following you. “nena, you know i care about you. deeply.”

“why’d you never say that before then?” your red eyes studied his.

“i did.” javier replied, “i’ve told you. i’ve told you i love you, for christ’s sake.”

“grunting you love me when you’re balls deep inside of me doesn’t count as a love confession, javier.” you pointed out as you sat on your bed, sinking in the comfort of his scent mixed to your perfume that lingered everywhere in the apartment.

“i’ve…” the mexican seemed at loss of words, his usually know-it-all demeanour falling down, “doesn’t that count as love?”

you didn’t laugh at his attempt to lighten the mood. “no.”

“i’ve showed you i love you-”

“we talked about it, everytime i try to talk to you about this, us, you brush me off.”

“no need to label-”

“bullshit!” you cried out, more tears pouring down your cheeks like a mountain stream, warmer and saltier. “fuckin’ bullshit, javi… you break my heart every fucking time you walk out of that goddamn door, and i’m left in the puddle of confused emotions you leave me in. sometimes i feel like i'm drowning in it, and i feel so damn pathetic every time you call me up, saying you missed me and all that shit, so pathetic because every time i let you back in my life.”

“done crying?” if looks could kill, he’d be long dead, but luckily for him your eyes alone can’t cause a satellite to crash him.

“when you stop being an asshole, yeah.” you sniffle.

“again,” he murmurs, caressing your cheek, “i’m sorry cariño. really sorry.”

he knew you wouldn’t believe him, sorrys weren’t what you wanted. you knew it better than him.

you also knew that arguing was pointless, you had just said it yourself, no matter what you’d let him slip away and right back into your life.

you sighed as he rested his arms at your sides and kneeled in front of you. “i do love you.”

“god,” you sniffled, dramatically rolling your eyes, “didn’t mean to cry.”

he wiped your tears away with his thumbs as his hands cupped your cheeks.

“shit.” you hissed, wiping the mascara off your cheeks, hoping the stains wouldn’t make you look like a raccoon.

but javi didn't seem to care, ever the gentleman.

“lay down with me, nena, mh?” his voice, now soft, asked, and you reluctantly let your shoulders fall onto the mattress.

“you should’ve listened to me,” you croaked as he lay down on his side next to you, “shouldn’t have come here.”

“i should listen to you more, eh?” javier tried to cheer up.

“why are you like this?” thousands of doubts flooded your mind. were you not lovable, not pretty or funny enough? was it because your laugh was always a little too loud and your crying face not as cinematographic as other girls? maybe it was the way you never seemed to quite catch the right note of your favourite song or that you’d lose all your femininity when you watched fútbol games with him? perhaps your scranky spanish? no, it wasn’t you. javier perfectly knew it wasn’t you.

“i often ask myself that question, nena.”

“mhm, me too.” you rolled your eyes as he caressed your cheek.

“let’s just sleep it off, ¿vale?” javi whispered, brushing a lock of hair out of your eyes.

you sighed, opening your mouth and immediately deciding it’d be better not to ask.

“what is it?”

defeated, you regained some hope. “will you be better in the morning?”

a childish, foolish, naïve and unnecessary question. you both knew he wouldn't.

“of course.” he answered anyway, that liar.

he kissed your head and engulfed you in his big and strong arms as you two laid down on your bed, your back pressed into his chest.how pathetic of you.

#javier peña #javier being the situationship king he is #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #oneshot #javier pena narcos #javier pena angst #javi baby

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pedroscurls · 10 months

Text

Innocent Eyes

Character(s): Javier Peña and Reader (female, second person POV) Summary: Javier and his partner, Steve Murphy, finally have one night off. So, when they go to a local bar to unwind, Javier certainly wasn’t expecting you to walk through the doors. Word Count: 5,251 Author's Note: So, this one-shot originated from a dream I had last night lol and it was all I could think of all day. I hope you all enjoy this! Happy reading🫶 Warning: smut!!! (idk if this needs to go into detail, but javi gets it innnn🥵)

Javier was exhausted, tired from working around the clock just to get an inch closer to catching Pablo Escobar, but every time they got close enough to even reach him, he was gone before they could even act. So tonight, instead of choosing to stay in and get rest, Steve managed to convince Javier to just have a couple of beers with him at the local bar near their apartment.

If anything Javier knew to do, it was to distract himself of the reality of his life. He already had his mind set that he would take a woman home to help him further distract himself from how helpless he felt whenever he went to work. No matter how much effort he put in, how much intel he received, it just was never enough.

And as he was sitting in a small booth across from Steve, his eyes wandered. There had already been plenty of women that came up to their table, trying to get the two men to buy them drinks, but Javier didn’t find any of the women appealing enough to bring them back home. Steve was off-limits, married, so it wasn’t like he could even take any of them home either; he had always been so faithful to his wife, Connie.

“So, plan for tomorrow is–”

Javier shook his head. He was leaning back against his seat, giving him a clear view of the entire bar. Bringing the cigarette back to his lips, Javier just glanced over at Steve.

“I really don’t want to talk about work.”

“Right, right,” Steve said. “You’re right. We’re supposed to unwind, relax…”

“Whatever the hell that means,” he shrugged. “How’s Connie?”

Steve shrugged his shoulders, looking over at his partner. “Fine.”

Javier chuckled, letting out a puff of smoke. “Can’t imagine that this is what she expected.”

“It isn’t,” Steve replied. “But she’s stuck by my side through everything. This is just another thing we gotta get through.”

“You’re a lucky man, Steve.” Javier said.

“And you? Never had a woman you ever thought of settling down with?”

For a brief moment, Javier’s mind drifted to Lorraine. He had been so close to getting married, but even now, he couldn’t imagine being a married man while having to deal with Pablo Escobar and the demons that only seemed to come out at night. He was envious of Steve, having Connie who was a strong enough woman to stick by him, no matter how difficult it would be.

All the women Javier had been with never had gotten close as Lorraine did and even then, he wasn’t sure that Lorraine was the woman he was meant to be with (hence leaving her at the altar). Besides, Javier didn’t think he could even go through the stages of being in a relationship anymore. The talking, the getting to know each other, the sharing of secrets… the women that Javier encountered didn’t want that either, so it just worked out. It was always just a few nights shared, not bothering to talk about each other; it was just another distraction.

“Not the settling down type,” Javier replied, letting out a quiet laugh. “I’m fine with the way things are.”

“Ah, you mean the women at the brothels?” Steve chuckled. “You know what you’re doing, man. As long as you’re clean, guess that’s all that matters.”

“I’m not stupid. I get tested regularly. Besides,” Javier said, downing his drink. “Why in the hell are we talking about my sex life?”

Steven laughed, raising a hand in the air to get the waitress to come by to the table so that they could order another round. “Fair enough.”

A group of women came by to the table, giggling and trying to entice both Javier and Steve by leaning over the table, pushing their breasts together and towards their direction. Javier couldn’t help but look, his eyes obviously raking over their frames. They were beautiful, there was no doubt about that, but the fact that they were exuding desperation was a complete turn-off for him. Usually, Javier didn’t mind, especially if he needed to distract himself, but for some reason, tonight, it wasn’t working for him.

But, as the doors swung open to the bar, Javier turned his attention towards the door. Then, when you entered the bar, he felt himself become immediately intrigued. You looked to be lost, looking around the bar like you had no idea where you had just stumbled in. You definitely didn’t look like the rest of the women that were in the bar either. The dress you were wearing was black compared to the other colorful dresses that the other women were wearing, but it was still skintight, though reaching just above your knees. It looked as if you had barely worn any makeup, except for the dark red lipstick that Javier found inviting, practically begging for him to nip and bite as he pleased.

As you skimmed the room to find the people you were supposed to meet, you noticed him. He was leaning back against his seat, white button shirt underneath a dark denim jacket. The cigarette hung between his lips and his arm draped over the back of the seat. He didn’t look at all the least bit interested about the women who were at his table and when you noticed that he was looking back at you, a blush immediately appeared on your cheeks. You gave him a smile and brought your hand up to tuck the hair away from your face.

When the women at Javier and Steve’s table realized they weren’t interested, they scoffed and decided to walk away, blocking Javier’s view of you after he had locked eyes with you. When he saw you smile and noticed that you were looking at him too, he felt an unusual feeling that settled in the pit of his stomach.

“Javi,” Steve said, gently reaching over to nudge at his arm. “Hello?”

“What?” Javier replied, pulling his eyes away from searching the room for you and looking back at Steve. “Sorry. My mind was–”

“Occupied by the woman who entered the bar. You never quit, do you?” Steve chuckled.

Javier rolled his eyes. “Are you getting the next round or what?”

“Yeah, I got it.”

When the waitress came by the table, Steve ordered them another round of beers. Javier, on the other hand, kept looking around the room and when he finally found you with your back facing him, he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander your frame. The dress clung to your curves in all the right places, but the length was still modest enough that you weren’t showing too much, unlike the other women and especially unlike the group of friends you were with.

“I’m gonna head to the bathroom. I’ll be back,” Javier said. He stood from the booth and finished his cigarette before he decided to walk in your direction. He knew he had the confidence to be able to come up to any woman and start a conversation, but he wasn’t sure why he was now feeling nervous.

As he inched closer to you, Javier could hear the voices and laughter amongst your group. But when you turned around, Javier felt like his breath was taken from him. Your group of friends dispersed onto the dance floor and you remained, probably because he was looking at you without saying a word.

“Um, hi?” you finally said, breaking him out of his trance.

“Hi,” Javier replied, clearing his throat. “Hey.”

You looked up at him and tilted your head. Your eyes were luring him in, so innocent and pure like you hadn’t yet been corrupted by the world. He had to wonder why you were here in Colombia, what your name was, what you did for a living, the things you liked and disliked… It certainly went against everything he had known. Women served as a distraction for Javier and he never thought that learning about the women he slept with was worth his time, but here he was, wanting to learn every little thing about you.

“You okay?” You asked. He was quiet, which was surprising to you, especially since he had seemed to exude so much confidence and charm.

“Sorry,” Javier chuckled nervously. “I’m Javier. You can call me Javi, or Javier, or whatever you’d like.”

You smiled and Javier bit at his lower lip at the sight. “Javier,” you repeated. “That’s a very nice name.”

“And yours?”

You told him your name and Javier smiled. He found himself being unable to look away, despite the loud music and chatter that filtered the entire bar.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Javier asked.

You looked over his shoulder at your friends who looked to be unbothered by your lack of presence on the dancefloor and you glanced at the booth that you had noticed Javier was sitting in when you walked in and noticed the man he was with was sipping his beer.

“What about your friend?”

Javier looked over his shoulder at Steve and shrugged. “He’s fine. He’s a big boy who can handle being alone for a few.”

“Well, in that case, I’d love a drink.”

—

An hour later, Steve had decided to call it a night, raising a hand to wave at Javier who was deep in conversation with you. Your friends had also decided to go to another bar, making sure that you were okay before they left. And now, you and Javier were sitting next to each other at the bar, inches separating your bodies.

“So, you’re visiting,” Javier repeated. “Why Colombia?”

“One of my friends is getting married and this is her bachelorette party. She wanted to go to Colombia, so… Here I am,” you replied, sipping your drink. “What about you? You don’t have an accent, so I’m assuming you aren’t from here.”

“I’m actually from Texas. I’m here for work,” he replied. Javier found himself captivated by your presence, by the innocent look in your eyes, by the way your smile managed to give him butterflies. Javier Peña had to wonder if this was love at first sight… How cliche. He made sure to make a mental note not to tell Steve, or else he’d probably never hear the end of it.

“Oh?” You asked, intrigued. “Can I ask what you do?”

Javier bit the inside of his cheek. He looked down at you and tilted his head. He knew that he had to be careful with telling people what he did for a living, especially since he was going after the most wanted man who had so many people supporting him. If he wasn’t careful, Javier knew he would be the next person on Pablo Escobar’s hit list.

“Can I trust you?” he asked quietly. Javier leaned forward, his body facing you. His legs were spread apart to give some space for your seat. You, however, were facing forward and you looked over at him, biting your lower lip as he inched closer to you.

“Is your job top secret, Javi?” you whispered.

Javi. The way you said his name sent the blood rushing straight down towards the center of his pants. In fact, he wanted to hear more of it, wanted to hear you moan and scream his name in pleasure.

“Ay, bonita,” Javier whispered, lips hovering near your ear. “No tienes idea.” You have no idea.

You cleared your throat and turned your head to face him, seeing him up close in your personal space. He was searching your facial expressions, seeing if this was something you didn’t want, but when he saw you lean closer to him, Javier didn’t move, didn’t falter. He noticed the pink hue in your cheeks, the anxious biting of your lower lip, and he certainly noticed the way your legs squeezed together.

“Y–You speak Spanish,” you whispered lowly.

“Sí, bonita.”

“I really want to kiss you,” you admitted. “But I want you to know that I don’t always do this and I’m not that type of girl and–”

Javier chuckled quietly. “We don’t have to do anything, bonita. I’m fine with just talking.”

“Really? Even if I want to kiss you and possibly invite you back to my hotel room?”

Javier cleared his throat. He wanted that so badly, but the innocence in your eyes, the purity that you exuded made Javier want to take his time with you. He wanted you to be comfortable, safe, and absolutely certain of what you wanted before he took you to his bed.

“Something tells me, bonita, that you aren’t completely sure and I’m okay with that.”

You sighed in relief. You were telling the truth. This wasn’t what you were used to. Even back home, you had been the only one in your friend group that didn’t partake in one night stands, but this was different. Colombia wasn’t home and you probably wouldn’t ever see Javier again after tonight, so you figured that you should try something different. You were sure that Javier was going to agree without question and take you back to your hotel room, but when he sensed your hesitation that this wasn’t something that you were absolutely sure you wanted, it only made you want him more.

“But I still do want to kiss you. Can we do that?”

Javier grinned. He nodded and cupped your cheek, running his thumb along your jawline. “Me encantaría, bonita.” Then, he leaned forward and pressed his lips softly against yours, letting his eyes fall shut. Javier felt you kiss back immediately, almost leaning forward out of your seat to move your lips against his with fervor. His other hand moved to your seat, bringing you and it closer to him. As a result, you let out a gasp which parted your lips for him. He smiled against your lips and darted his tongue out to run along yours, hearing you quietly whimper against him.

Javier felt the center of his pants tighten at the sound and he felt your tongue eagerly run along his as both of your lips moved against one another. The hand on your cheek moved to the nape of your neck, your hair entwining in the spaces between his fingers. With a gentle squeeze, Javier gently pulled away and pulled your head back. Your eyes remained shut and you tilted your head up, feeling his lips move along your jawline. Javier dragged his teeth against you, nipping gently as his lips moved from your jawline to the side of your neck.

This certainly wasn’t just talking.

“Javi,” you whimpered quietly, moving your hands to his thighs.

Javier smiled against you and pulled away, licking his lips as he looked at you. “Sorry, got carried away there.”

“You really know what you’re doing, huh?” you smiled, biting your lower lip.

“I know a few things.”

“I promise that I don’t go around kissing strangers. I’m actually a real good girl.”

Javier cleared his throat at that. He tried to think of something else, to think of anything else, to stop himself from getting an erection right here, right now. He wanted to test that out, to see how truly a good girl you really were.

“I think you know what you’re doing too,” he replied.

You blushed and bit the inside of your cheek. “I know a few things too,” you winked.

Javier chuckled and leaned forward to gently peck your lips. “Wanna grab some food? I know a good spot nearby.”

“I’d love to.”

—

You and Javier were sitting next to each other at a local taco shop. He had paid for your food, which you thanked him by giving him a kiss on his lips. He wanted to kiss you longer, but you had pulled away before he could get too carried away. And now, you were both laughing with each other, taco in hand, and it felt like you had known him forever, like this was normal.

“My dad owns a ranch back home,” Javier smiled. “I used to pretend to sleep in to get out of doing my chores,” he chuckled.

You laughed quietly, looking over at him. “Sounds like a teenager thing to do.”

“Oh, trust me, my dad caught on pretty quick. Didn’t last long.”

“Is he a strict man? Your dad, I mean?”

Javier shrugged. Since coming to Colombia, he hadn’t ever talked about his personal life; it just didn’t seem right to mix work with his life at home, but he found it so easy to talk to you, to talk about his life from before Pablo Escobar, from before Colombia, from before the DEA.

“I wouldn’t say strict,” Javier replied. “He's a man of few words, but he’s taught me everything I know. The man I am today is because of him.”

You smiled. “Sounds like a great man. Do you miss home?”

Javier didn’t know how to answer that. He hadn’t been back home in years, too focused on trying to catch Pablo Escobar and not wanting to go back home without anything to show for it.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “It’s been a long time.” Javier took a bite of his taco, glancing over at you. When he swallowed his food, he decided to change the topic of conversation.

“What about you? Any siblings?”

“Two younger brothers,” you answered. “But my parents were strict,” you laughed. “Being the eldest and the only girl came with a lot of responsibilities and expectations.”

“Ah,” Javier replied. “Sounds about right.”

“Growing up, I always wanted to leave home, get out of that small town, but,” you shrugged. “I always found my way back.”

“Why’s that?”

“Always felt like they needed me in one way or another,” you replied. “Coming here, to Colombia, was definitely out of my comfort zone. I’m used to people relying on me, but I would be lying if I said that this vacation is only because of my friend’s bachelorette party.”

“And what else is this vacation for then, bonita?”

You set your taco down and wiped your hands. You turned to face him, looking up at him with big, soft eyes. Javier bit the inside of his cheek. The way you looked at him made him feel all sorts of things; you were looking at him like he mattered, like the things he had done since coming to Colombia didn’t define him, like he wasn’t a disappointment, and he found himself craving more and more of the feeling you were stirring up inside of him.

“Well, I wanted to have fun,” you replied. “I wanted to do things I don’t normally do, to step out of being that good girl that people expect me to be.”

Javier bit his lower lip. There you go again, saying those words like it wouldn’t cause a reaction out of him, but the way you were looking at him and the way you were inching closer, the more and more he realized that you were becoming increasingly sure that you wanted him as badly as he wanted you.

“Oh, so you want to be bad?” Javier asked, running his fingertips along your back.

“With the help of a certain someone,” you replied.

“And who might that be, bonita?”

You leaned into him, biting your lower lip. “I’m sure you know the answer to that already, Javi.”

He growled lowly and leaned down to capture your lips heatedly. Immediately, you melted into him and moved your hands to his chest as you gently nipped at his lower lip. Javier groaned against you, pulling away as he felt the center of his pants tighten.

“Tell me what you want, bonita…”

You were breathing heavily against him, pulling back enough to look up at him. “You… I want you, Javier.”

—

Javier had been peppering kisses along the back of your neck and shoulders as you tried to unlock your hotel room door. His hands were resting on your hips as he nipped gently at your skin, causing you to push back against him to feel the throbbing bulge beneath his pants. He groaned at the sensation and pulled you flush against him. When he heard a quiet thank god when the door unlocked, he pulled away and walked you both inside.

Javier felt you pull away to turn the lights on as he followed you towards the bed. He watched as you took a seat at the edge of it, immediately reaching down to remove your heels. Once they were off, Javier watched as you kicked them to the side. He had already removed his denim jacket, tossing it somewhere in the room.

He was unbuttoning his shirt when he saw you look up at him, reaching back to pull the zipper down on your dress. Javier grunted to himself at the sight of you looking up at him so innocently and so pure that he wanted your eyes focused on him when he finally got the chance to fuck you.

Javier shrugged the shirt off from his body, reaching down to unbuckle his belt to relieve some pressure in his pants. You stood from the bed and turned around, motioning for Javier to pull the zipper down. It was obvious that you could have done it yourself, but wanting Javier to do it instead made him even more excited.

Javier’s pants were undone and he reached up to drag the zipper slowly down to reveal more of your bare skin. When he realized you hadn’t worn a bra, he used his free hand to squeeze himself in excitement. He leaned forward, peppering kisses along more of your exposed skin. Once the zipper was completely undone, Javier took a step back to watch the dress pool around your ankles to reveal that you were now only just wearing a very skimpy lacey, black thong.

“Fuck me, bonita,” he whispered, watching as you turned around to reveal your exposed front.

“I’m trying,” you smiled, letting out a quiet giggle that made his member throb even further.

Javier pushed his pants down his legs, kicking them to the side. You gasped in surprise when you noticed that he hadn’t been wearing any underwear, his manhood standing erect and leaking at the tip.

“Well, seems like I’m the only one naked.” Javier said, reaching down to tug on his length.

You nodded in agreement, tucking your thumbs into the waistband of your thong and pulling it down your legs. Once it reached your ankles, you pushed it aside and slowly lowered yourself to your knees. You looked up at him, licking your lips as Javier slowly stepped forward.

“Can I?”

Javier growled. “So polite,” he said, stroking his member a few times before he let his tip rest against your lips. “Wow, you really are a good girl, aren’t you?”

You smiled, parting your lips and running your tongue along his tip. The taste of him settled on your tongue and you wrapped your lips around his tip, sucking gently as you brought a hand up to stroke the base of his length. Javier groaned, moving a hand to your hair as he kept his eyes focused on you.

You pulled away, licking your lips as your hand continued to stroke him. Still, you were staring up at him with the same look you had given him the moment you walked through the doors of the bar earlier that night.

“Fuck, bonita,” Javier groaned.

You smiled in accomplishment and wrapped your lips around his length, bobbing your head and hollowing your cheeks as your hand continued to stroke what your mouth couldn’t cover. Javier’s hand tightened its grip around your hair at the sensation and when you pulled your hand from him to try and push yourself further down onto his length, he moaned, hearing you gag quietly as the tip of his length hit the back of your throat.

Javier thought it was too much, but you continued, bobbing your head repeatedly and quickening your pace. He had to pull away from you, to prevent himself from coming too fast before he could even feel your walls wrap around his member.

“You keep that up and this is gonna be over,” he teased, gently taking your hand and pulling you to your feet.

“I’d like to do that again,” you smiled, running your tongue across your lower lip.

“Oh, this good girl thing is just an act, isn’t it?” he grinned, moving his hands to your hips.

You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “What can I say? I guess you bring out the bad in me, Javi.”

Javier groaned and gently laid you back on the bed, crawling above you as he settled himself between your legs. You stared up at him, eyes still so innocent and pure and he felt like he could come right then and there with the way you were looking at him.

“Damn, bonita,” he said, taking the condom you handed him. “You’re driving me crazy the way you look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

Javier slid the condom onto his length and grasped it in his hand, slowly running his tip along your sex. He kept his eyes focused on you, watching as your lips parted for a moan to escape.

“You look at me like I’m the only thing that matters,” he whispered, slowly sliding into you and groaning as he felt your tight walls immediately wrap around his member.

You gasped, keeping your legs parted for him. Javier lowered himself to press his lips along your jawline, wanting to be close to hear your moans against his ear. His hips slowly moved in and out of you, allowing your tight sex to loosen up to his length. He had to wonder if you had done this before or how often you had done this with how tight you were and it was driving him crazy; he didn’t know how he was going to let you go after tonight.

You couldn’t even think, couldn’t even process what his words meant because all you could focus on was the way he felt as he thrusted in and out of you, the weight of his body against yours, providing you a surprising sense of safety and security. Javier’s lips continued to move along your skin as he pulled his hips back and pushed back into you repeatedly, creating a rhythm that elicited quiet whimpers and moans from you.

Javier was always so rough with the women he had been with, so rough and quick, but this time, for some reason, he wanted to take his time. He wanted to revel in the way you felt wrapped around him, the sounds of your moans and the way you said his name, and certainly the way your arms moved to wrap around his shoulders, holding onto him.

“Javi,” you whimpered, feeling him deliver a sharp thrust. He remained still within your depths and you moaned, feeling so full of him that you wanted more. You wrapped your legs around his hips and tightened your hold around his shoulders as you lifted your hips to move against him, moaning loudly as it bounced off the walls.

Javier groaned, pulling back to prop himself up onto his hands as he watched your hips move against him, rolling them up and down. He pushed into you, moving a hand to your hip to stop your movements. Javier pulled out to his tip and slammed back into you; he repeated this for a few thrusts before his pace quickened. The sound of his skin slapping against you mixed in with the sounds of your moans. He gripped your hip, his fingertips digging into your skin as he leaned down to bite at the side of your neck, sucking on it afterwards.

“Fuck, bonita,” Javier groaned.

“Oh god, Javi,” you moaned. “Please, don’t stop.”

Javier grinned, slamming his hips into yours repeatedly. “Tell me how it feels, bonita.”

“Javi,” you muttered, feeling your climax slowly edge its way closer. “Feels so good… Oh my god…”

“I’m gonna want to do this again,” Javier whispered, his hips not faltering as he felt your walls begin to tighten even further around him. “Next time, I’m gonna fuck you from behind and watch your ass bounce against me.”

You would be lying if you said that you had experienced this before, that the men you had been with had given you this much pleasure, but Javier was different. This was different, in all the best ways possible.

“Please,” you whimpered.

“And then,” Javier groaned, slamming into you. “I’m gonna eat this pussy and make you come until the only thing you can think about is me, bonita.”

That was it. Your walls tightened around his length as your body began to shake once you reached your climax. You held onto him and heard Javier’s grunts and groans against you as his hips began to thrust into you erratically. You knew he was close too, so you ran your nails up and down his broad back as you whispered into his ear.

“Come for me, Javi.”

Javier delivered one last thrust and released himself into the condom, groaning against you. He hadn’t ever reached his climax as hard as this and he had to wonder if it was because of you. He was telling the truth that he wanted to do this again and again and again…

But he also wanted to get to know more about you, spend more time with you, show more of himself to you, but he knew that wasn’t possible. Colombia wasn’t home to you and you would be going home in less than a week. This was all it could ever be.

When he pulled out, you whimpered and watched as he removed the condom, tying it shut and tossing it into the nearby trash. He lied back down with you and pulled you into his arms as you tried to catch your breath.

You looked up at him, biting your lower lip as you started to wonder how this could even work when you went back home. Maybe this was why you never did one night stands because while you wanted more sex with Javier, you also wanted to get to know more about him, more about his family, his home, but how could that be possible if you were expected to go home and he was supposed to stay here for work?

“We are doing that again,” Javier said, smiling. “I’m a man of my word, so–”

“So, you’ll eat me out and then fuck me from behind?”

Javier narrowed his eyes, leaning down to peck your lips. “I think I want to keep you, bonita.”

“That’s a great idea,” you smiled. “Can we make that happen?”

You kept staring up at him, which gave Javier that same feeling from earlier this night. He wanted more of you, obviously in more ways than one, but you made him feel good about himself, made him feel like he wasn’t just some disappointment, made him feel human. In fact, you gave him hope that this could be something more. He never did understand the concept of love at first sight, but what he was feeling was something he hadn’t ever felt before.

Maybe it was love. Maybe it was something else, but Javier wanted you.

Needed you.

“I think we can,” he finally replied.

609 notes · View notes

pascalsbby · 10 months

Text

CARNAL / 5: All Is Fair In Love & War

Chapter 4 / Masterlist

Summary: 5.5K/ f!reader, dark!joel, bfd!joel, brat tamer!joel

“You were infiltrating his space, now. You stayed still, and she mumbled something. You pressed, “keep watching” on the screen and let the TV voices drown out your reality- the one in which Joel is awake, unknowing that you’re in his house and in his daughters bed.”

Warnings: 18+ mdni, SMUT, age gap, knife play, lil bit of blood play, breath play, choking, he takes what he wants, dominate & aggressive joel, pet names, praise kink, p in v sex, face fucking, dirty talk <3, he talks you through it, tells you what to do- the usual pure filth + a little more this time.

A/N: SHIT’S HAPPENING! I got a little carried away. Lemme know what you think, please? 🤍

“How do you love?”

“Like a fist. Like a knife.”

- Ada Limón

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *₊.• ♡ °:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *

You had surrendered the recollection of what it felt like to be touched, held, a long time ago. For the person touching you to feel you for themselves, too.

A delicate pass, the very essence of tenderness has materialized into his calloused fingertips. Small hairs from his beard kissing your skin, just as his lips brush up and down your neck. He’s breathing into you, the condensation is warm, making your own sweat drip. Lips whispering, gliding along the delicate curve of your neck, his movement like a goddamn poem.

His fingers dipping into your depth, wet from prodding in your mouth.

Pleasure and pain, almost annoyance at how good it feels. It tickles. It feels wrong, even. Joel dips down and licks your sweat pooling in a tucked-in spot between your collar bones.

It feels heavy with guilt. It feels safe. His thick arms are holding you against his body, he’s making promises in your ear.

It’s not real, though- it’s a dream. A dream you’ve been having for days, over and over. But it never really leaves when you wake, either.

It’s what Joel felt like- will feel like when you meet again. The familiar gnawing in your chest aches. Where does the feeling of him end, and I begin? Am I finally lost within? I’d stay here forever. Maybe that’s what I was meant for… to be lost in the chest of a man in my own brain.

9:45pm, sat on either side of Sarah’s bed in her still-pink room that she’d outgrown years ago.

“Dad says he’ll repaint it once I promise I’ll stay here until I graduate, during the summers at least,” she had said. “I guess that gives me more time to see you since you’ll be here now too.” You corrected her, “Until I can move out of my parent’s house again. Maybe I’ll just live here, it’s better than going back there.” Sarah frowned at the joke, knowing what you had shared about your family to her.

What were you doing? Joking about staying here. This was Joel’s house. He was asleep two doors down. Now wasn’t the best time to be making jokes, but it felt easier than trying to face what was truly happening.

Sarah had promised he was sleeping whenever you snuck through the back door, putting her finger to her lips to quiet you when you were suddenly falling over the molding on the way in the door. You’d never been one for graceful movements.

She held in her giggles all the way until her door was closed, though.

“Were you trying to wake the sleeping bear?”

“Maybe,” you giggled.

And that was the truth. You were terrified, but you wanted him to know you were here.

You were angry at him, but you wanted him. You wanted to see his room, not through a computer screen on a cam website- but in person. You wanted to be near him.

You were infiltrating his space, now.

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡

It had been 6 days since Joel had shown his face. It had also been 6 days and few minutes less whenever he had left the bathroom you two shared. He decided not to share his plan with you, once again. You were a puppet in his game.

‘Break with him? For him?’ You had, momentarily on the bathroom floor. The sobs were clawing their way out unmercifully, but you also didn’t want to stop them. You had believed what he told you. He held you like a little girl, arms wrapped around you in safety. And you had listened and believed. Why? When has a man ever followed through in their promises to you?

He had left you in the bathroom, fending for yourself on how to clean up the mess he made. He had cleaned up the visible mess of your cum, his, sure, but not what he awoke inside of you.

You looked into the mirror and formed a half smile, looking at the faint shadow of where your mascara had been running.

Your neck was red where he’d wrapped his hand around you.

You took a few more deep breaths and then patted down your dress. There, on the inside of your thigh was his fingertips, branded into your body from force.

You wanted to tattoo him on your body, make him permanent. But you also wanted to scream and throw a fit against his chest. You felt like a child.

When you got tired of looking into your own eyes, you went to go face the truth.

Sarah had found you first, immediately boring into you. Her face was disappointed, frowning. You knew in that moment that she was gone, months of friendship thrown away.

She knew, she knew that there was something going on between you and Joel. She knew you fucked him in that bathroom. She knew he’d been paying you to ruin yourself for him.

You waited for a sharp pain, a crying voice, something.

She quickened her pace and ran to you after she could see that physically, you were fine. But she didn’t hit you. She wrapped you in her arms and the breath you had been unknowingly holding, released. She whispered to you, still holding you tight.

Suddenly the world was spinning, for probably the fifth time that night. But when was the last time you felt like you were standing on solid ground, anyways?

“Dad told me, I’m so sorry, I had no idea or I would have beat his ass myself, I swear to God.” She released from the hug and held you at arms length, looking you over.

You’ve never been a good liar, praying that your eyes wouldn’t give it away. ‘I’m fucking your dad.’

She looked like Joel in that moment, sounded like him. Concerned, brow set downward.

Joel was standing a few feet away, facing you while Sarah’s back was to him. He was smiling ever-so-lightly here and there as your family talked at him, his eyes lifted from his dad’s face to you. You imagined your eyes were wide, still red from tears, from being handled by him… fucked into the concrete wall.

Your eyes returned to Sarah as she started again.

“I didn’t know you were seeing anyone! How could you not tell me! I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I know this isn’t the time. I just thought you would have told me that he wasn’t treating you right, that he was supposed to be here on your big day. I’m sorry.” She said again, softer, realizing she was getting worked up about the ‘wrong’ part of the story, and you probably couldn’t handle that energy at the moment.

You dared look at Joel again, the indention between his brows was visible for a few moments, he nodded his head towards you, looking at you through his eyelashes after looking down at his feet. Play along. Stop choking. Stop starin’.

You returned to her gaze, as she waited for your response.

God damnit, answer her…. C’mon Birdie.

You could still feel his fingers in the back of your throat.

“Sarah, I’m so sorry. I just thought it would turn out differently. He seemed so sweet and interested in me and that usually doesn’t happen so I ju-“

She cut you off, shhhh’ing you.

“We don’t have to talk about it right now. This mystery man has spent too much of your time tonight.”

He had told your parents the same story, and they believed him. So much so they didn’t even care to ask you anything, all you got was a “sorry” nod from your mom. Your dad was too busy talking to other family members, probably telling them how hard he worked to get you here.

And yet again, here you were, the victim in a string of lies that weren’t even your own.

The story was simple: you had been seeing some guy for a few months and invited him here to meet your parents on your big night. He didn’t show- and when Sarah came in all excited talking about Chase, it made you upset. Joel followed you because he thought you were upset that he was there without notice, and he didn’t want to worry anyone else in the gallery by bringing your parents into it.

It was good. Why are you surprised? You knew he was a good liar. All your fucking encounters had been premeditated- even today. Maybe even this one, in where he sticks his fingers inside of you and fucks you to tears, then blames it on some other guy.

But it didn’t surprise you how quickly they fell under his spell. You did the same, and all it took was whispered filth in his deep, vibrating voice. All it took was his fist wetly wrapped around his throbbing cock.

Your emotions were never really taken into consideration, and this was another one of those moments- but this time you were grateful. No one asked questions about the mystery asshole again. Except for Sarah.

That’s how you ended up in his house, in her bedroom. You felt like you owed her the ‘truth’ of what happened between you and mystery boy.

You wish the real mystery boy wasn’t her dad. Why couldn’t he have been the neighbor, or some professor from school? You’d never really looked at older men in this manner, before Joel.

Shame was growing deeper amidst the entanglement of lies you felt like you’d eventually get stuck in.

And they were sticking to you, the lies. Thick, heavy. They played themselves over and over in your dreams, dancing in circles and spinning webs.

He whispered to you, “Mine. Mine. Mine, Birdie.” But just in your dreams. You had wings and he washed them gently, petting and taking care of you.

She had texted you at least a hundred times since that night, asking about this guy, wanting to know every detail. So you decided it was best to see her in person, tell her whatever story you could come up with on the spot and then hopefully hear nothing about it again.

“Maybe… maybe I scared him away? I don’t do well with things needing me, or being close to me. Maybe it’s externalized resentment towards the world for having been born as the ‘older sister’ in a broken home, or for having to be the parent of my parents, the house, myself. I don’t like dogs jumping on me and licking me, I don’t like the grabby hands of children, I hate when my mother asks me a question that she could easily figure out herself,” you finish, out of breath from quickly trying to get your thoughts out before they left. Or maybe before you realized who you were telling your secrets to.

And that was the truth. You knew you’d been a shit friend to Sarah. You couldn’t see it getting any better from here, but you also somehow knew what would be worse: losing him even though he wasn’t even yours. He felt lodged in your chest like he was an integral part of your body and its ability to work.

“I think that makes sense,” she nods. “You were in survival mode, you didn’t have enough energy for extra anything- including relationships or extra overstimulation. That’s how dad is, too. I’ve begged him for years to acknowledge the pain, but then put it down for a while. Or let someone hold it with him, at least. He grew up similarly to you, I think.” She pondered on. “I think he would do well with someone caring for him. You too.”

“Uh…” you stuttered, “yeah. He seems like he’s had a rough go at it. From what you’ve told me at least. I remember him being sad that summer he worked on the shed, too, but I guess I just assumed it was cause you weren’t there n’ he missed you. I don’t remember a lot of it though, to be honest.”

“‘Don’t know,” she trails, “he’s always been like that. Even before the divorce. He’s been a hell of a lot happier this six months though. He says he doesn’t know why, just ‘feels lighter.’ I assume he’s seein’ someone, just won’t tell me who. Probably Ms. Tammi down the street… he always eyes her when she’s workin’ in the garden. She’s too young for him though, she’s like 35,” She scoffs.

Damn.

35 is a helluva lot better than 24. But this isn’t the time or place to have that conversation.

Sarah continues on, quickly changing the subject and falling into other conversations as you listen intently, happy to not be at the receiving end of questions at the moment.

You can’t help but wonder what Ms. Tammi looks like. It fades quickly, though.

That’s how the majority of the night went, and you were happily exhausted by it all. The nodding, “yes!”’s and “I agree. I agree”’s, the giggling, the comfort in the face of it all.

Around 3am you both settled down and she gave you a blanket that smelled like their home. It was soft, warm. Sarah put New Girl on and she was out in 5 and a half minutes. You always fell asleep last at sleepovers, unsurprisingly. You didn’t sleep well as it is.

Her room was comfy. Boxes were still littered around from what she brought home for the summer. Her pink walls radiated the soft glow and heat of the lamps. Her TV was dancing across the walls, casting shadows. Her windows were open, welcoming in the cooler, muggy night. Cicadas were still singing their lullabies.

Her walls were adorned with proof that she had been taken care of, loved. Pictures of Joel throughout their life, littered under string lights.

She’d always been a photographer, ever since Joel put her first camera in her hand when she was 5. Sarah had lit up talking about it a few hours earlier. She took the family pictures on their vacations- meaning, she attempted to squeeze her and Joel into the frame, considering how much shorter her arms were than his. He let her, not too worried that half of his face was cut out.

“Always knew you were gonna be somethin’ special, kid.” He had told her.

There were the ones of just him, too. Black and white speckled film. He was turned to the side in one, his profile taking up the whole shot, looking forward. He was younger then, more clean shaven and… just smaller. He looked lighter in a different regard. Happier, maybe.

He looked beautiful, but not the way he does now. The years are present in the fine lines of his face- they are there to tell his story. One you didn’t even know yet but wanted to drown in.

The testament to how much Sarah loved Joel was right here. The proof of how much he loves her, staring back. She had a safe childhood, you think.

And you’re jealous because you can see it; the difference in the two of you. No, you don’t want to be like Joel’s daughter in that way… you just… hate having to admit to yourself that the time for that has passed. Your dad never showed up in that way, and he never would.

He wasn’t the one who covers your cuts and carries you to your bed when you fell asleep watching one of his cowboy shows on Saturday night. He was the type of dad that screamed your weaknesses back at you, stabbing through you- except this time through your back and into your chest; not even looking you in the eyes while hurting the little girl within you, again. And again. And again-

Back to Joel, please. You begged your mind. Your hands were shaking, too. The soft hum of Sarah sleeping next to you brought you back. You hate that it makes your heart swell that much more, the fact he took such good care of her. Such good care that she doesn’t have any inkling of what’s going on between her two favorite people.

She’s sleeping peacefully in a place that’s never been a war zone, and yet here you were. Who would be the first causality?

You drift off eventually, uncomfortable at first because you don’t want to move her bed too much, waking her. Eventually you sleep, and you sleep peacefully despite the elephant on your chest. Despite the war on the horizon.

Perhaps this was the best sleep you’d had in years, even. You felt safe in her safety, in Joel’s.

You dreamt about him again, this time he was bleeding.

And then a crashing in the kitchen followed by a muffled “fuck” caused you to gasp out of your nightmare, and Sarah stirred to your entire body stiffening.

You stayed still, and she mumbled something. You pressed, “keep watching” on the screen and let the TV voices drown out your reality- the one in which Joel is awake, unknowing that you’re in his house and in his daughters bed.

But God, you have to pee. He scared the shit out of you. You raised off the bed slowly, making sure not to wake her. It had been five or so minutes since the sound, and nothing else had happened. He’s probably getting ready for work, you convinced yourself.

On a Saturday?

You check your phone to see if he had texted you. 5:46am. A new habit you’d formed in the past week since your last encounter. Nothing. Still.

So you tiptoed to the door and cracked it, letting the light from the TV guide you. Her bathroom was three doors down, she had told you earlier in the night. There was a nightlight on, too. You could see it pouring out from under the door.

No other lights in the house, or at least upstairs, seemed to be on. Joel had either left for work or went back to bed, whatever he was doing seemed done.

You cursed at yourself for not bringing your phone with you to use as a light, but it was one long hallway… you could do it. Deep breaths.

You made it halfway when you heard something downstairs and practically peed yourself right then, hurrying your footsteps to the nearest door. You opened it and backed in, looking at the stairs and down the hallway for any sign that he might have seen you.

Nothing. And then a breath that wasn’t yours.

“Oh, now you’re breakin’ and enterin’ into my house? Couldn’t stay away, huh? Coulda just called, Birdie.”

There’s no fucking way.

“Came to see Sarah and didn’t even say hi to your daddy? Mmm, what a shame.” You imagined he was shaking his head, but you couldn’t see too much from the fucking wrong night light in the corner of the wrong fucking room.

“Thought you were gonna be a good girl ‘n lay low for a while?”

You turned around, slowly, and there he was. He was in boxers, laying in the bed you’d seen him fuck himself into. It smelled like him in here, too. The sheets were slept in, the same color as the ones he would shoot his spend into, grunting and calling you pretty names.

He was grinning, not even startled by the fact you were somehow standing in his room at 6am.

Lay low? That plan was never shared with you.

Heat washed over you, embarrassment maybe. You wanted to be needed by him, wanted to be grabbed, licked, kissed, handled. You’ve been waiting for him, but he hasn’t reached out. You wanted him to hold you like he held you in that bathroom, except this time you wanted him to push your face into his sheets while he did.

“Answer me,” he growled. He couldn’t have been up for long, his voice still heavy with sleep. It was lower in tone, deeper.

“I’m trying to be a good girl Joel, I-I was just looking for the ba-“

“No. A good girl wouldn’t fuck her best friends dad, n’ call him daddy while doin’ it. She wouldn’t come over and sleep in her bed, just to sneak into her dad’s room, doin’ and lookin’ for god knows what.”

He was enjoying this. He was just as much to blame- no, he was THE person to fucking blame for this.

“That’s fucking unfair, Joel. I came over here to try and put a patch over loose ends that you left whenever you left me in the floor of that bathroom,” you huffed, teary-eyed and still stunned, still sleepy. “I didn’t- I don’t, wanna hurt her.”

He stopped grinning then, sitting up. He didn’t lift his feet off the ground, but you were scared he might.

You felt like that same, scared little girl who was being punished and yelled at for letting a tear slip. But he was fucked just as much as you if this went public, and it emboldened you. You knew he didn’t want to hurt her either.

“You know what’s unfair?” You pointed at him, continuing in his silence.

“You. That I finally made a friend who is so good- so good- and you stalk me? You find me and you use me for some perverted pleasure that your wife didn’t give you, n now I have to pick up the pieces and lie to my best friend?”

He was face-to-face with you, staring down at you, waiting for you to dare open your mouth again. And then, his hand was around your neck and he was forcing you to look into his eyes.

“You don’t know ‘nothin’ ‘bout my ex-wife, don’t ever bring her up again. ‘Specially when you’re standing in my house, in my god damn bedroom. Got it?”

“No.” You gasped out.

His grip tightened.

“No?” He spat in disbelief.

“‘Musta forgot who you answer to. Didn’t know your pussy would forget so fast who she belongs to. Don’t make me put you back in your place, sweetheart.”

His nose meets yours, the hug of your face, faster than his lips. He nudges, wanting more. Sucking, teeth hitting teeth in a want to be as close to each other as possible. He goes for the bottom lip, always, tucking the side of his nose under yours. Gently. Then he returns to your lips and bites down, searching for blood. He get its, and he chuckles.

You gasped into his mouth.

“You need me to ruin you, huh?” He whispered into your hair as he pulled your head to the side, making it easier to suck on your neck. He was nipping at your jaw, licking lines like he had in your dreams. His hands were engulfing you and all you could do was stand there and take it, sucking the pain away from your own lips. Rough palms feeling at you.

You let out a plea for more.

“That’s why you came lookin’ for me? Sweet girl,” he purred, “couldn’t stay away? Want me to take care of you, stretch that tight hole around daddy’s cock, hmm?”

That hit a nerve, deep. You wanted to surrender yourself and hide in his arms. From the world, Sarah, yourself. You wanted to believe what he had whispered to you in the bathroom, you wanted to break against him and rest your bones.

But first, you wanted him to sink his teeth into you. To ruin you. And then maybe he would stick around this time and pick up the pieces.

He was solid, sturdy, safe. You reached up and put your hand on top of his, letting him know this is what you want, giving him the ‘okay’.

He didn’t even need to ask you, you walked closer to his bed and laid yourself over it, ass up, giving yourself to him. He sighed in lust, watching you sink into his sheets, spreading your smell onto them. You turned your head and laid your cheek against the soft, looking up at him.

You spread your legs and struggled out of your shorts, he stepped towards you and ripped them off. You were taking too long. The room was silent, save for both of your breathing.

“This what you needed?” The bed squeaked under you as he pulled you towards the end of and ordered you on your knees. He lined himself up with your core and spit after kissing your cunt with his tip.

The spit hit your pussy, tickling its way down as it dripped. He took his fingers to it, pushing it around and then into your hole. He used it to wet the head of his cock, too.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he coos at you, grabbing for the nape of your neck, pulling your hair and hence your head back towards him. It hurt so good, and your neck was at an angle that made it harder for your chest to rise and fall.

He slid into you at the same instance, and the breath you were halfway through caught in your throat, your whole body reacting to his length. Your eyes were watering from the intrusion, from the pain and simultaneous pleasure. He put his palm against your mouth, muting whatever scream had just come out.

And he fucks you while you grunt out sounds each time he hits that spot inside of you. Your eyes roll back, then focus again. His hand blocking not only your mouth but your nose. Your stomach is tighter, trying to fit his size. He’s breathing heavy above you, sweat dripping and falling onto your back, not realizing that he’s cutting off your air supply.

He’s doing what he said he would all of those times, fulfilling the promises he had made. It’s different now than in the bathroom. He was angry then, but he wasn’t in the comfort of his own home. He could do whatever he pleased, now. Sarah under the cover of the whispering TV in her room.

He throws his hips to yours, each one tearing moans from your throat. “There you go.” And suddenly you were seeing faint white lights in the corner of your vision. But you don’t care, you were just tired, blissed out. You felt comfortable under the weight of him, fucking into you. You relaxed and took what he was giving you. Over and over an-

His voice was muffled. He repeated himself.

“Hey, breathe for me, pretty thing.” And you do, forgetting it for a moment. He reached his wrist in front of you, taking your neck between his thumb and pointer finger. “Lemme feel you breathe baby. Gotta listen t’ me.” You sucked in what you could, and he ‘uh huh’ed you, feeling your neck contract and take in the air. “That’s right, just like that. Can’t have you passin’ out on me baby girl. Not there yet.”

He went slower for a moment, aware that he almost suffocated you. But he didn’t stop, and you were glad. He pulled out and decided he’d choke you with his cock, instead. You whimpered at the loss of him from inside of you, but you knew what he wanted and you wanted to give it to him.

You slipped from the bed to the ground, finding it harder to move and get on your knees than you thought. He’d fucked you silly, shaking, raw.

“Can I feel it? Let me feel it.” Ordering, more than allowing, the tip of his cock passed your lips and went straight for the back of your throat. You coughed him out, just for him to return again, dripping your saliva.

“Shhh, shhh, shhhh,” he whispered, grabbing fistfuls of hair on both sides of your head as he fucked his hips into your mouth, relentlessly. You felt something warm, wet drip from you and hit the ground next to your splayed legs beneath you.

“Cumming with my cock in your mouth? Knew you were a’ bad girl.” He was breathless, shocked at how you were letting him play with you, limp, almost. Fucked out. On the verge of passing out.

You didn’t know how many times your stomach had tightened and then released. How many times you came for him. You stopped counting after two, unable to do much of anything. Not wanting to be anything, then the person under his touch. Full of him.

And then you were wearing him again, bent over the edge of his bed, hips hurting from hitting the edge of the mattress.

“Joel,” you managed, “pl- please.”

“Now you’re talkin’? Couldn’t get any words out before. Poor baby. What do you need from me?”

“Hurts, Joel.”

He liked that.

“Want me to stop, then?”

“No,” your voice was hoarse.

“Then what do you need? Can’t give it to ya if you ain’t able to say it.”

“Inside. Cu- oh fuck- cum inside me. Please. Please, please.”

He liked the sound of you begging for him to fill you up.

“N’ whose cunt is this, baby? Who do you want to cum inside you?” And those filthy words pulled another orgasm from your hips.

“Your-“ you mumbled.

“Louder. Use those pretty words you know from goin’ ta school.”

“Yours Joel. This pussy is yours, s’all yours.”

“What a good girl.”

He halted as deep as he could inside of you with a groan, growl-like, and he filled you with his warmth.

He stayed inside, afterwards. Not wanting any of his spend to go to waste outside of your womb.

You didn’t say anything, fighting the urge to just fall asleep where you were, in the comfort of his bed. But you didn’t cry, either. And that was a first. He completely defiled you, yet you weren’t breaking under his touch. You felt like, even if it was fleeting, he broke you and then put you back together right. The correct way.

He pulled out and grunted, and suddenly you felt a soft cloth wiping at your core. He placed soft kisses up and down your shoulders and back as he cleaned you up, your goosebumps the only reaction you gave as you closed your eyes.

A few minutes passed.

“Do you trust me?” He whispered, running his hands up and down your bare skin.

“Mhmm,” you let out.

“Look at me, Birdie. Need to hear it.”

You rolled over, more awake from the serious tone in his voice.

“Yes, Joel, I trust you.” But he didn’t looked like he believed you.

“Want you to do somethin’ for me.”

“Whatever you want.” Your patience was wearing thin, you just wanted to curl up and sleep, surrounded by him, surrounded by the smell of him, the safety.

You felt heavy.

He lifted himself off of the bed but you didn’t follow where he went, you caught yourself falling asleep again, so you slightly shook your head in an effort not to.

He returned and a hissing sound sprung through the air. Then immediately, something hard, cold, wet maybe? Slid across your skin. His weight was weighing down the bed as he sat back down next to you.

He moved your hair out of your face, rested your cheek against his palm and spoke clearly.

“Want my initials here, baby.” He was holding a switchblade against the inside of your thigh. “Remind you who you belong to while we figure s’all out.”

You were awake now.

He kept the blade there, but his eyes found yours, searching for an answer, praying you wouldn’t get up and run from him.

Instead, you took his wrist and moved it even closer to your core, on the inside of your thigh.

“How ‘bout… here?”

“S’perfect.”

He got off the bed then, sinking to his knees as he settled you comfortably on your back.

The birds were chirping through the window, the orange sun slipping past the blinds and onto his bed, streaking over his face. You welcomed the pain, if it felt anything like his pleasure. You trusted him. And you know you shouldn’t, but who is going to stop you?

He kissed up your legs, starting by leaving wet marks on the back of your knees. He made it to your nude mound and kissed it, too. Gently, soft.

“You sure?” He asked, for once, giving you an out if you wanted it.

“M’ sure, Joel.” He sighed at the sound of his name leaving your lips, sleepily. He reached your thigh and settled the blade comfortably in his hands.

He kissed you one more time in the spot he had chosen, and then he carved his initials into your body, slowly. Painfully. You hissed.

“Want me t’ stop?” He asked.

“No. It feels good.”

It felt like your own version of love, one both of you shared together, secretly.

The warmth spreed as his tongue followed the blood down your thigh, catching it before it fell to his sheets.

Taglist: @strang3lov3 @leeeesahhh @blackvelveteen1339 @huffle-punk @xxmr-potato-headxx @ssssc0m @paleidiot @sarap-77 @marchai @morallyinept @i-love-rafe @silkiers @gracevnn @scarletsloveletter @smol-beb @loriensasylum

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ficjoelispunk · 4 months

Text

Has the cat got your tongue?

Pairing: Javier Peña x fem. Reader.

Wordcount: 5.8k

Warnings: flirting, kissing, smut, unprotected sex, guns, shooting

A/N: Well, I usually translate my fics, so this is a translation, English is not my first language, so I already apologize for mistakes, or confusions in the translation. This is my first Oneshot, I hope you like it. ❤️

As soon as you sucked the last sip of your drink, you looked around the bar looking for your friend, a faithful squire, when your eyes parked on the image of Jessica being cornered by no one else, none other than Javier Peña.

Obviously, at that moment, you were no longer fully aware of reality, as soon as the department ended the work, everyone had the brilliant idea of drowning stress and fatigue in some drinks. You didn't use to drink, so you settled for a single drink. Now holding a delicious non-alcoholic orange drink with tonic.

Jessica was are you roommate, and like always you were together. You decided to go straight to the pub for happy hour, and now it was past 10 p.m., so no doubt Jessica would already have her neurons cushioned.

You watched from afar the most scoundrel man in the department - yes, it is Javier Peña -, flirting with your best friend, and she laughing like a fool falling into his conversation.

Immediately you get away from the group of people you were talking to, walking towards Jessica and Javier.

You reach her arm, entering the middle of her and Javier, noding hard at him, turning to face her.

"Hey, girl! Time to go...”

Javier stands next to Jessica, looking at you. You had to look up to make eye contact with him.

"I can take her home" Javier put his arm over Jessica's shoulders.

“Absolutely not”

"Okay, if you want to join us, the invitation extends to you too, you will be welcome"

You open your mouth, surprised by the audacity of this man. You smiled ironically, shaking your head, while looking down.

“Come on, Jessica, let's go”

You help your friend get off the bank in front of the bar counter. She had definitely managed to send the stress and fatigue far away - after God knows how many - shots of tequila.

"Wait" Javier holds one of your arms "we were having a good conversation here, weren't we beautiful?" He speaks seeking Jessica's approval.

She is soft in your arm, completely drunk, the weight of her whole body under your responsibility.

"She is not in a position to say what it is or is not, a good conversation, if you will excuse me"

"Your jealousy? Calm down, sweetheart, you’ll also have your opportunity."

You hear a choir behind you doing a "wooow" by the agents who were with Javier. Automatically this arouses a ferocity in you, your eyes narrow for Javier. You feel the blood boiling in your body, radiating adrenaline into you.

It was as if he challenged you and you accepted. Put Jessica's arm on your shoulders so that she balances herself on you.

"Oh, honey… Do you think every woman wants to fuck with you, Javier? For God's sake, look in the mirror. You think you're hot, but you're forgetting a small detail, you have a huge list of women for your collection, which you pay for them. They're just doing their job. Has it ever occurred to you that they don't like you, but your money?"

Javier is paralyzed. It was as if the sound of the bar was diminished, and only you spoke inside the environment.

"What is it?" Do you provoke him "Has the cat got your tongue? You are so self-centered that you can't take the blood from your cock, and use your brain to really conquer a woman, you prefer to buy them. But there are some women who are not for sale. Grow up, little boy. Start acting like a real man."

Now the choir was for you. The agents were fervent. Javier was paralyzed. You turned your back and walked with Jessica out of the pub.

The wind outside the bar refreshes the fervent temperature of your face, calming the blush that your little discussion with Agent Peña installed on your cheeks. Your eyes started looking for a taxi but there is no car available in front of the establishment.

"Maybe we need to walk" Jessica said, sounding totally drunk.

You sighed. Jessica leaned against the wall. And he took one last look checking if there was no car arriving, usually they were waiting for the passengers in front of the pub, but today. No.

"I can take you"

The voice behind you, made you jump into a fright.

Javier.

"No, thanks" You talk while you were looking for a card from a taxi you had already taken, to call him.

"Look, you're not going to get a taxi now, and you live upstairs of my apartment. It’s dangerous to stay on the street at this time, and it won’t be a big deal... So..."

"Please, I need to go home... it's no big deal, let's just go home, please," Jessica murmured.

"God!" You close your eyes while throwing your head back.

Sigh.

"All right. But, it's just a ride. Understood?"

Javier arched his eyebrow. And he indicated the Jeep. You helped Jessica get in the car, and Javier opened the front door for you.

You two faced each other for a while. Without knowing, without understanding, if that was a favor, or if it was some provocation, you two were with the guards on alert and would not lower anytime soon.

Despite that, Javier was loving the idea of you being in his car. Breaking all the contempt you insist on showing whenever he is around.

Javier helped you take Jessica to the apartment, you took her to the room, and he stayed outside the apartment.

"Thank you"

He nodded. And turned around.

You were going to close the door but you hesitated.

"And..."

When Javier heard your voice he looked at you over his shoulders.

"I'm sorry if I was very rude to you earlier today... you pissed me off"

He smiles crooked.

"I deserved that"

You nodded. And closed the door.

Had I made too much effort to climb the stairs and there was little oxygen in your brain? Or were I starting to think Javier is handsome?

You chose the first option.

***

A few weeks later.

Your shift had ended earlier, and as today was Jessica's day off and she was the only one who had a license to drive in Colombia, you decided to leave walking, so as not to disturb your friend's rest. The apartment was not far from the base, and you really needed some time alone.

You walked down the street, distracted. Colombia was a colorful country, there were many colors on the streets, in contrasting with the war scenario that the cartels and politics waged at the time. It was hot, it was a hot day in Medellin. But sometimes the breeze hit your face, refreshing your body. You were with your eyes closed feeling the wind messing up your hair.

"Hey"

You opened your eyes. Turning your head towards the sound.

"Hey! Get in the car"

Javier had the car leveled on the sidewalk, driving to follow your step, glass lowered, looking a little nervous, gesturing for you to get into the car.

"Why?" You frowned, confused.

"Get in the fucking car" Javier was screaming, looking away from you to look into the rearview mirror. "Now!"

You held the strap of your bag, stopped walking, looked back.

Javier saw three men walking faster towards you, through the rearview mirror.

"Get in the car! Get in the car right now!" He screamed louder.

You saw the men taking out weapons that were hidden under their shirts.

Your eyes snapped, Javier was already out of the car, slipping through the hood of the Jeep, opening the passenger door, and pushing you into the car.

There was a shot. Your whole body contracted, tripping into the car.

Javier shot in the direction of the men. Running to the driver's side.

You lowered your head in the car.

"What's going on?" You asked with a slightly shrill but trembling voice.

"Where are you coming from?" Javier spoke loudly. While driving.

There were more shots towards the car, one of them hitting the rear window of the car breaking with the impact of the shot.

You screamed putting your hands in your ears.

Javier got his hand on your head, forcing you down, to protect you from the shots.

"Stay down. Where were you?" He was screaming.

"Stop yelling at me, I'm right here, next to you"

"Where were you?" Javier ignored your request.

"I... I... I was at the base"

You felt him making a sharp turn, your body being thrown to the side, he removed his hand from your head, to hold the steering wheel. You raised your head little by little, your hands still around your ears.

"Where are we going?" You asked, feeling the tears that you didn't even notice formed in your eyes, running down your face.

"I'll take you to a safe place"

It took you a moment to process the information.

"Wait, do they know where I live?" You held the sides of the seat, while Javier drove aggressively.

"Probably" Javier was attentive, looking everywhere.

"Jessica is at home, we need to get her out of there," you said a little desperate.

"Your safety first"

"No!" You said louder, "We need to go get her now!" You were holding the dashboard of the car now.

"If you didn't get home they know you won't be there, they were after you, not her, I won't put you at risk! You need a safe place"

You didn't understand what was going on.

"Put on your seat belt" Javier looked at you.

It was difficult to move, your body was rigid, he seemed not to obey your commands. Your hands were shaking, your breathing was completely irregular, only now you were becoming aware of the reactions your body had. An icy tingling ran through your body.

Slowly you managed to lean against the seat, you pulled the seat belt, but couldn't connect to the lock, Javier pulled the beam of your hands and locked the seat belt for you.

"Why were they after you?" Javier asked.

You shook your head.

Javier looked at you, completely overwhelmed by the state of shock.

"Sorry, I yelled at you. Did I hurt you?"

Tears flowed persistently down your face. You tried to contain them with your hand, while shaking your head at him, unable to speak.

"I hurt you when I put you in the car?"

You shook your head for him.

"Look at me" Javier asked, the voice calmer now.

You took a deep breath a few times, but obeyed his request.

Javier was studying your face.

"It's okay. You're safe now. Nothing will happen to Jessica. All right?"

You nodded to him.

Javier takes the satellite phone from the car console, his fingers agile dialing a number.

"Steve, I need you to go to Jessica's house with a patrol, there were three armed men in the region, they fired shots, there may be people hurt, maybe they can invade the apartment"

He made a silence.

"Yeah…” he looked at you “I don't know, but take her to a safe place"

And it hung up.

"Thank you"

He nodded.

"Do you know why they were after you?"

You shook your head.

"I have no idea..." you looked out the window for a moment, then looked at Javier again, "my father, he has political involvement..."

Javier looked at you.

"Political involvement? And why are you working on it?" He arches his eyebrows, his eyes snaps.

You frowned.

“Because I need to work to live?! My father is a politician, not me"

Javier shrugged. He kept thinking about how you could live a luxurious life, without having to work, just enjoying the money. But you decided to work. Worthy or did you just want to prove something to someone?

Peña parked in a motel. You tilted your body over the dashboard of the car to observe the location. Is this the definition of a safe place for Javier Peña?

"Sorry, we don't have any five-star option” Javier said as he got out of the car.

What is the need to be so annoying?

Already out of the car, he gestures for you to get out of the car, while lighting a cigarette. You go down, looking to the sides.

"Why are we here?"

"You need a place to stay," he said under his shoulders.

"I'm not going to stay here alone"

Javier looks back.

"We have no other option, until I can do the legal procedures and can request protection for you, no one will look for you here"

"No, so take me back to the base, I'll stay there, no one will look for me inside"

Javier looks at his feet, and puts his hands on his waist.

"We don't have time for this, come in, before someone sees us"

You sigh. Scared. Looking around.

"I don't want to be alone, I'm scared," you murmur, crossing your arms in front of your body.

Javier runs his hand over his face, scratching his nose.

"Ok. I'll stay with you"

You looked at him. Not that it would comfort you. But with him?

You scratched the back of your neck. Thinking about the alternatives.

"Let's go, come on" Javier pulls your shoulder, directing you through the enter of the door, his hand gently pushing your back. Without giving you many choices.

You continue with your arms around your body. While Javier checks in and picks up the room keys.

Wait. Room. One room?

Javier walks towards the stairs, goes up the first floor, unlocks the door.

"Go inside, lock the door, only open it if you're sure it's me, I'll be right back"

He gives you the key.

"Where are you going?"

He snaps his eyes at you and shakes his head. Ok. He wouldn't tell you where he would go. Because he doesn't owe you satisfaction. Because he's an idiot, insensitive.

"Close the door."

You enter the room, Javier is waiting for you to lock the door. You hear his steps moving away after hearing the second turn you take on the key.

The bedroom has a sofa. And a bed. Only one, with a mirror on the ceiling. But that's okay, because apparently he was going to leave you alone. And fuck if you're shitting yourself with fear. Fuck that there were armed men willing to shoot you, behind you. Fuck you.

Javier was Javier, and he didn't care about anything, just himself.

Never, not even in your worst nightmares, did you think that one day, you would be at the mercy of Javier Peña. There was no way you could get out of there, without him saying it was safe. There was nothing you could do but wait. Wait. For Javier.

The world really turns around.

The TV didn't work. There were no magazines. There were no books. You wouldn't leave the room. That was it. There was no food. There were no clothes if you wanted to take a shower. There was nothing. Nothing, just you. Your concern. Affliction. Nervousness. Anxiety. And fear. Oh, and of course, red and blue neon lights in the room. You rolled your eyes.

Three knocks on the door.

"It's me" the voice was familiar.

But was it correct to believe that it was safe to open even if it was him, and if he was accompanied, being threatened? Would it be prudent to take a test?

"What did I say to you on the last night we met?"

"Well, there were a lot of things, sweetheart." He took a break "but my favorites are that: I think I'm the verraco. That I can't think because my blood is all on my dick. And that I should start acting like a real man"

Ok. If he were being threatened, he wouldn't have been able to think of all this.

You unlocked the door.

Javier was leaning against the door, a cigarette on his lips, with several bags in his free hand.

You made the way for him to come in.

He put the bags on the bed.

"Did you talk to Agent Murphy? Is Jessica okay?"

"Yeah, Jessica is fine"

Javier looked at you, his eyes going down to your feet.

You crossed your arms.

He indicated with his head the bags on the bed.

"I bought clothes if you want to take a shower. There are some snacks if you're hungry. Water, beer and cigarettes"

You walked reluctantly to the bags. You opened some. Really, he had bought you clothes. Pajamas, pants and t-shirt, and... what? It can only be a joke!

You took it out of the bag holding with your fingertips, a black lace panties.

"Seriously?" You asked him.

Javier seemed to have fun, a funny expression on his face.

"I thought it would look good on you" he smiled.

You threw the panties at him.

He held back laughing.

“You pervert!"

You took the bag of clothes, heading to the bathroom, which, ridiculously, there was no door.

You grunted, Javier heard, stretching on the couch. Having fun.

"You stay there, and don't you dare come here until I authorize it"

"Yes, ma'am"

You turned on the shower, and took a quick shower. Javier heard the sound of the water stop, the shower turned off. He stretched out to look at the bathroom. He saw your silhouette wrapped in the towel, your wet hair, your legs, your bare shoulders, it was as if something burned inside him. His cock contracted in your pants. Making him fix it in his underwear. Straighten up on the couch.

Javier remembers perfectly the day he saw you for the first time in the department.

"She is not for your tipe" Steve said, while Javier almost broke his neck looking at you.

"I like to vary" he said.

Steve laughed, pushing his partner's shoulder.

Javier knew he would hardly have a chance with you. First, you hated him without much explanation. Second, you had a negative image of him, with your reasons. Third, you were a beautiful woman. Soot face, with strong and sensual features. Hairy lips, perfect hair. Intelligent, sophisticated, polite. He knew you wouldn't give him a chance. But since you were here, he would not miss the opportunity to do the only thing he could do with you, and successfully provoke you.

You wore the pajamas that Javier brought you - without panties - which had not yet been decided if it was good or bad, the fact that Javier knew that you were not wearing underwear. Or if by chance it was, it was the one he had chosen.

Javier was concentrated reading some papers when you left the bathroom. Shorts and tank top, the thin fabric of the pajamas following the curves of your body. He had never seen so much of your exposed skin as you is now. Your skin looked soft, smooth. He wanted to be able to run his hands through your body. Smell it. Kiss your nervous mouth. Make you feel good. Relaxed. Put you in his arms, make you get to where no other man wanted to have dreamed of. He was capable of that. He knew it. This was one of the qualities he was most proud of.

"What are you looking at?" You made him blink.

"You"

"I know, but why?"

Javier hesitated and turned his attention to the papers, without answering you.

You sat on the bed.

"When will I be able to leave here?"

"As soon as we get adequate protection for you, or we can find out why they were behind you, or when we can catch the men who shot you"

"Ok. And the estimate is of?"

Javier looked at you.

"I don't know, cariño. I'm doing what I can. You should rest"

You nodded.

Dictating yourself in bed, ignoring the mirror above you, pulling the pillow for you to hug and rest your head.

You heard Javier moving some bags, opened a beer. You would certainly take a long time to sleep. He was focused spreading the papers on the coffee table. At one point, you heard the water from the shower. You heard the click of the bathroom light going out.

"If you want, you can lie down on the other side. Just, don't... you know..."

He laughed.

"I'm going to stay on the couch"

"There's enough room for two"

"Do you want me to go to bed with you?"

You sat down, looking at him, furious. Javier smiled, having fun.

"No, I just think it's fair for you to feel comfortable. But now, stay on the couch."

"Believe me sweetheart, I would be more comfortable on the couch than lying next to you"

You frowned.

"What do you mean?"

He laughed, shaking his head. He didn't answer you.

Only then did you realize that he was wearing shorts, and a T-shirt. Stuck to his body, marking the broad shoulders, the muscles of the back.

You closed your eyes, biting your lips, trying to keep any invasive thought out of your head.

You lay down, angry, sinking your head into the pillow wanting to scream. What had you done to deserve to end up in a motel room with Javier Peña?!

You can't tell when you fell asleep.

But at a certain point, you felt someone holding your face. You started screaming for help. Now your arms didn't move. You fought hard to untangle yourself, let go, and push what was holding you.

You heard your name, several times being called as a background.

You recognized that voice. You screamed for help, it was Javier.

"Wake up, cariño, you're dreaming..."

You kept struggling to let go. But the weight of the person's body prevented you from moving.

"Wake up... babe.. wake up"

You opened your eyes, panting.

Javier was on top of you, with his knees around your hip, holding your arms next to your head.

Your chest was looking for oxygen.

"What..."

"You were dreaming, I think… Saying something, asking for help, when I tried to wake you up, you... are you okay?"

You were still trying to breathe. Javier was letting go of your arm.

"I... I... did I hurt you?" Since he held your arms... it was an acceptable assumption.

You started looking at his arms, ran your hand through his skin, felt the marks on your nails.

"I'm sorry, I... I..."

"It’s okay... are you okay?"

Javier was on top of you, his body big, strong and hot, heavy against yours. Looking at you deeply, worried.

You looked into his eyes, scouring his face, and for some reason, your eyes went down to his mouth. Your lips have separated.

Javier tilted his head to the side, a crooked smile.

"Are you going to answer me? Or has the cat got your tongue?"

Now, you no longer knew if your breathing was irregular because of the nightmare. Or for having Javier like that, so close. Touching you. Touching so much of you. Creating a discomfort in your body, a pain forming in the middle of your legs, in need of relief.

Javier smiled, and slowly approached you, still looking into your eyes. Your eyes fixed on his lips. As if begging for him.

"Yes" you murmured.

Javier went down until his lips touched your ear. You closed your eyes.

"Yes, what?" He murmured, with his lips rubbing against your lobe.

Javier felt you squeezing each other's legs under him, desperately looking for relief.

"Yes" you murmur "yes, I'm fine" you opened your eyes, the mirror reflecting the muscles of his back.

Javier comes back to look at you with a malicious smile. You are so close that you can touch your nose against Javier's nose.

"Good. You can use words, that's a good sign"

Your hand involuntarily touches his arms. Rigid, muscular, strong.

Javier closes his eyes with the feeling of your soft fingers tracing irregular paths through his skin. Going up the biceps. Gently. You feel his skin goosebumps.

Javier's head hangs, resting on your shoulder. His warm breath, panting, radiating on the skin of your chest.

You bite your lips, imagining what his mouth would be like on your breasts.

Your lips meet his ear.

"And you? Can you talk?" You murmur.

Feel his mustache pinch the skin of your shoulder, in a smile.

"Sorry cariño, I can't take the blood from my dick, and send it to my brain, so that I can say something coherent now..."

You laugh.

Turn your head a side, Javier's lips meet yours. The soft of his lip in contrast to the mustache that scratches your skin, your lip. You tilt your head so that your noses fit, your mouth opens up to him, and Javier finds your tongue to wander, moaning in you. Knowing your mouth, your taste.

While he kisses you, Javier leans on one arm, his legs release your hip, you can bring your legs out of him, slowly he presses himself against you, pressing your clitoris with his thick length, making you gasp.

His lip separates from yours.

"Is everything okay?" He asks pantingly.

"Yeah, don't stop" you pressed your lips on his again.

Your arms rise to curl around his shoulders, your hands merge with his hair.

Javier begins to move his hip, rubbing his cock, on top of where he knows you are writhing with desire, your body moves with his, at a perfect pace, Javier's free hand slides down your thigh, falling on your hip.

Slowly his fingers meet the hem of your shirt, and he dips his fingers inside it, in contact with the skin of your belly, he feels you tense yourself to his touch. Needy.

You don't stop rubbing yourself against his cock, looking for a friction that releases the growing pain of your pussy squeezing around nothing.

Javier raises his hand until he finds your breast. You moan, while for the kiss, to look at his fingers under your T-shirt massaging your breast.

"Take it off" Javier speaks in a low, serious tone, making you feel your pussy wet, ruining the fabric of your shorts.

You pull the T-shirt by your arms. Getting naked. Your exposed breasts. Your stiff nipples.

"You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen" Javier speaks with both hands on your breasts, squeezing, while the lips pass through their skin, his tongue, until he sucks one of your nipples, his tongue dancing carefully, more exciting the pulsating nerve of your pussy.

Your fingers intertwine his hair. Your body arches for him. While he changes to the other breast. And repeats the same action in it.

You moan. Moving in him, looking for his cock.

"Javi, please, I need to..." you moan.

"What do you need, bebita?"

"Touch me, I need you to touch me"

Javier smiles.

His fingers circle the elastic of your shorts, you join your legs in front of him, he slides the fabric out of you. You open your legs to him.

Javier's hands slide through the skin of your thigh.

"Jesus Christ… You are so beautiful" he says as he looks at your shining pussy “fucking hell”

He takes off his shirt and his shorts. Releasing his dick. You lean on your elbows. You had already heard about Javier Peña's cock, but live, like this, it was something you had never seen before, it was beautiful too, big, the biggest you've ever seen, thick, it’s leaking precum already, the veins really occupying all the blood of his body. You smiled. You wanted to put it in his mouth. Feel how he would look inside your mouth.

You sat down, crawling towards him, as if you were hypnotized. The lips open, the tongue in the middle of the teeth.

"No, no," Javier held your chin.

You almost pouted.

"Another time, now I want to make you cum, so I can sink my cock into you..."

His words were like direct closes to your core. It was as if you were drunk by Javier Peña.

He bent down, fixing himself in the middle of your legs. He put your knees on his broad shoulders. You looked in the mirror, the image of Javier in the middle of your legs.

His fingers went through your greeting, you moaned. He circled your entrance, bringing your wet to your clit and sliding his finger in circles in your bundle of nerves, sending small spasms through your body.

Javier studied you, observing where he touched and how your face expressed itself with the pleasure that his touch provided, it didn't take long for him to understand where he should press, and how he should do it.

He slid two fingers into you, you closed your eyes, the feeling his fingers opening you, your hands went to your breasts, running your fingers through your nipples.

"Beautiful, you're so tight, goddammit..., relax, just relax for me..."

Javier bent his fingers inside you, pressing your inner wall, reaching a delusional point, when you felt his tongue in your clitoris, you moaned loudly. Your hand came down to hold his hair.

He was relentless, moving his tongue on his clitoris while his fingers built your orgasm.

You felt the pressure forming and the more Javier moved in you, his tongue moving in your clit, it was more difficult to hold, until you exploded in spasms of pleasure, came around him with a strangled cry.

Javier waited for you to come down from your orgasm to slide his fingers out of you.

"We don't need to do anything else, if you don't want to," he kissed the inside of your thighs.

You put a hand on his face, wiping with your thumb the stains you left on him. Your thumb slid down his lip.

"I want to" you murmured the voice still recovering from the pleasure of a few seconds ago “I want to tell you”

Javier smiled. How could he deny it?

He settled in the middle of your legs, you felt the weight of his cock on your pussy, and immediately opened your legs more.

Javier lay down on you, leaning an arm next to your head. The other went down in the middle of their bodies, to position his cock, at his entrance.

He kissed her lips. Take it. While rubbing his cock on you, still sensitive to your orgasm, moaning, and moving your hip to find him.

“So eager” Javier murmured.

He puts his cock at your entrance, and starts to sink into you. He is so big, you feel a pleasurable burning as his cock comes in and fills you.

Your lips open, you touch your forehead on his, holding his arms, watching his cock sink into you.

"Hermosa, you are so..." he moans a heavy sound "tight"

“Fuck!” You gasped while he was sinking into you. He could feel every detail of your muscles stretching around him “Fuck you feel... you feel...”

“I know cariño” holding himself inside you as he gave your channel a moment to adjust to the size of him. “Fuck, I know…”

Javier begins to move, before he even reaches the end. You put your hands down to his hip and pull him against you. Getting more into you. You need to feel full of him. You need it all inside you. A sharp and pleasurable pain dominates you, when he is totally inside of you.

Your lips move around his neck, slightly biting his shoulder.

"Javi..."

He was getting used to being inside you. But you were desperate for him.

"Javi, I need you to move, I need to feel you moving inside me..." you murmur panting to him.

He smiles with a sigh.

"I like it when you call me that" he whispers in your ear "ask me for anything like that, and I'll do everything for you"

Sliding his cock on you. Almost leaving completely, and coming back to the end. At first slowly. But when you intertwine your legs around his body, Javier begins to increase the pace. You feel it stronger, sinking into you, your hips meet. The obscene sounds that their bodies make.

Javier kneels, and raises your legs between his shoulders, somehow causing him to get deeper into you. Sliding in faster movements.

The way he left your leg, tightens your clitoris, making you move looking for more friction. He realizes it. Pressing his thumb on your clitoris with your free hand.

"I want to feel your pussy come for me, c’mon Hermosa, doing so good, taking me so well…”

Javier starts to get more desperate with his movements inside you, more irregular. He presses his cock deep on you, making you moan loudly, without you being able to control, you melt again on him, the body shaking while he fucks you through your orgasm, chasing his own release.

He sinks more often, deeper, pressing against you, increasing your orgasm.

“Where? Tell me where...” he asks panting.

“Inside me” you murmur almost tearfully.

"Fuck!" He sighs “take it” with a tortured moan, holding his cock at the bottom of your pussy, you feel his cock pulsating on you, filling you, spilling onto his balls and legs before he was even finished coming.

Javier lowers your legs, and lies on you, kissing your lips. Your hands around your face. The bodies calming down, the breaths organizing, you feeling it soften inside you.

"Do you usually have a lot of nightmares?" He asks, moving your hair away from your sweaty face.

You smile.

He comes out of you, pulling you to lie on his chest. You fall asleep like that, intertwined.

In the morning, Javier fucks you on the bathroom wall, pushing your body over the tile, squeezing your neck with one hand, while the other squeezes his fingers in the flesh of your ass so hard, that they will leave marks. His dick in this position hits places you didn't even know were possible. You moan loudly at the feeling of him inside you. Stretching your tight walls around him.

Javier receives a call informing you that an escort will come to pick you up. You would almost like it to take longer.

When they knock on the door, Javier holds the gun next to his body, slowly opening the door. He frowns.

"Agent Peña" Ambassador Crosby is at the door.

"Ambassador" he nods to the boss.

"Thank you for taking care of my daughter, you saved her life"

You watch all kinds of emotions go through the Agent's face. Fear, surprise, panic, doubt... he looks at you with his eyes half closed.

You smile gently, faking a false innocence.

"Yes, Daddy. This man is my hero" you say, standing on your toes to hug him, "you are running down my legs" you whisper in his ear, move away to give a small kiss on the cheek of Agent Peña who is now petrified. "What is it, Agent? Has the cat got your tongue?"

Ambassador Crosby, gives friendly slaps on the Agent's shoulder, going out the door as his arms pass through your shoulders, you look back and winks at Javier who is now with his mouth open, still paralyzed.

A/N: What would your best friend, Jessica, think about the fact that you stayed with her suitor? 🤭

#pedro pascal #narcos #narcosoneshot #narcos fanfiction #oneshot #javier pena x y/n #javier pena fluff #javier pena x you #javier pena x reader #javier pena smut #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena imagine #javier pena one shot #javier pena narcos #javier pena fic #javier peña #javier pena x ofc #j

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oliviajdjarin · 1 year

Text

Javier Peña: Call Me Javi

Pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader (afab; she/her)

Excerpt: “His hands found their way to your waist as he walked you further and further backward, obviously having your apartment memorized like the back of his hand, and lifted you against the wall. You let a whine escape into his mouth, his facial hair burning so good against you as you did, and he pulled away with a groan that sounded like he was near pain.

“Tell me Y/N,” he whispered, breathing as hard as he did after raids, “tell me if I need to stop, because I won’t be able to stop myself.”

Your brows creased together in slight confusion, but you whispered, “I will.”

He kissed you again, before sinking to his knees.”

Warnings: SMUTTT, slightly insecure reader, mentions of smoking, Javier is cocky (what’s new), oral female receiving, idiots in love.

1.4k

A/N: I needed some Javi in my life. I hope you enjoy :)

If you’d like to leave a like, comment, reblog, or ask, it would be much appreciated <3

Pedro Masterlist

(gif credit to owner I owe you big time this gif absolutely ends me)

The rubber from his tires came into your apartment’s parking lot so hot they ignited not one spark, but a dozen, lighting up the dark Colombian sky. You could feel your legs beginning to quiver and shake, knowing who was behind that wheel.

“Right now?” he had whispered over the phone.

“Right now, Javier” you whispered back, “now or never.”

That wasn’t even ten minutes ago.

Javier Peña had been your acquaintance for two years, your coworker for one, and your friend for six months. The process had been slow, due to both of your unique issues and the fact that you were after the best drug lord that had ever lived, but you had gotten there eventually. He understood your humor--even the pieces of it dripping in a dark ink--and that was where your own spark began. The teasing began, then the bickering, then the long smokes outside after a day with more casualties than fingers on your hands where neither of you had to say anything.

He had always been good at that, saying everything yet nothing at all. It was exactly what you needed in those moment, the silence of the unsaid pact between you: keep each other sane. Keep each other distracted.

There was only one more step you had to take, one more figurative box to check to let Javier truly distract you from the bucket of shit day you had. You could see it in his eyes during those long smoking nights, the proposal for it, but he always read your eyes right back: Not yet.

It didn’t take very long or “not yet” to turn into “right now.”

Your heart crawled further and further up your throat when you heard his boots hit your carpeted floor, moving just fast enough to be subtle but fast enough for you to smirk, and you cracked your door open a sliver.

He looked how he always looked, handsome with a drizzle of rugged. Your kryptonite.

You took a deep breath before opening the door, reminding yourself that this is just Javier. The Javier who drinks black coffee, only black coffee, blushes at compliments, has a soft spot for cats, adores reality tv, and would never, ever hurt you.

You opened the door all the way when he made his way in front of it. His eyes were blown wide, the proposal from all those weeks ago present in his eyes, as well as...apprehension. Like he genuinely thought this would never happen, you would never say yes, and if he traced one valley of your skin, he would wake up.

You smiled, enjoying this look on him, and nodded.

He smiled too, and kissed you dizzy.

He walked you back into the apartment, gently, and helped you close the door. His tongue teased yours as he locked it behind his back, and you both pulled away to smile. It weakened more than just your limbs.

His hands found their way to your waist as he walked you further and further backward, obviously having your apartment memorized like the back of his hand, and lifted you against the wall. You let a whine escape into his mouth, his facial hair burning so good against you as you did, and he pulled away with a groan that sounded like he was near pain.

“Tell me Y/N,” he whispered, breathing as hard as he did after raids, “tell me if I need to stop, because I won’t be able to stop myself.”

Your brows creased together in slight confusion, but you whispered, “I will.”

He kissed you again, before sinking to his knees.

Suddenly, you realized everything he meant, all of it, and an exhale of fear escaped from you before you could stop it.

His honey-dipped vanilla eyes met your own instantly, mouth formed into an o, and his hands removed themselves from your jeans.

“No, it’s okay,” you whispered, bringing his hands back to your thighs. “I--I’ve never had that before, that’s all. Just scared me.”

You had seen Javier angry before, but this wasn’t that. You’d seen him sad before, sad for you even, but this look wasn’t that either. It was...disappointment. That was it. Disappointment. Disappointment and resentment.

“You haven’t?” he whispered, massaging your thighs.

You shook your head. “No. I’ve asked for it, but--”

“And so you will have it,” he said, and practically ripped your jeans in two. Your underwear came down with it, and you were suddenly bare. The A/C hit you, igniting chills down your freshly-shaved legs, as well as the sweat from your kiss freezing its heat against your skin, and you were tempted to cover yourself completely.

But Javier was looking at you in a way you had never seen before.

He was kneeling there, examining your body like an artist to his sculpture, as if he...as if he might...

You wouldn’t go there. Not yet.

“Y/N,” he groaned against the skin of your shin, kissing all the way up to your pulsing core, “I think I’m dreaming.”

And then he dove in.

You had experienced pleasure before--quick fucks, your own hand, maybe even making love--but one lick of Javier’s tongue, one scrape of his moustache against your soft skin, one grip of his hands against your ass, and sparks brighter than the ones from his tire clogged your vision.

You were in heaven, or maybe hell, whichever one had an eternity of this.

“Javi,” you whimpered as he mapped you out like the expert he was. Tunnels of fire shot up your thighs to your lower back causing it to arch, only pressing his mouth against you harder. Your right hand gripped his hair while your left gripped his leather jacket, your mouth could not keep itself shut, and tears burned your eyes as he licked and sucked and kissed right there--

“Javi, don’t you--don’t you dare stop.”

He pulled away from the obscene noises his mouth was making against you and said, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He ate you out for what had to have been hours and seconds. It felt endless yet not enough. Never enough. He finally worked his fingers up to you, entering you like butter, and another pathetic whine came from what had to have been you. You couldn’t even recognize yourself.

“Javi please--” you wheezed, your fire burning you alive, “I’m right there.”

“I feel it baby, I feel you,” he whispered against you, licking his lips. “Just a bit longer.”

He ate and ate and ate. You were there, then you weren’t, you were screaming, then silent, on the brink of release, then almost numb. He was etching his sculpture effortlessly, hitting you exactly where he wanted you to curve.

You never wanted anything else that wasn’t him, that wasn’t this, him on the floor, your spine against the wall, his face between your legs.

Finally, your fire caught enough for you to grip his hair the way you had discovered he liked, and he kept going. You were there, right on the edge, your fire coiling inside you--

“Come on hermosa, come on,” he whispered against you, mouth dripping with you, “let me feel it, give it to me.”

And you did, so good it hurt.

Your back curved against the wall and sweat dripped down your shirt as he wiped you clean, licking from your chins up to your clit, fully wiping you down. With your heartbeat finally slowing you could hear more of the noises he was making.

He was nearly as pathetic as you.

Finally, you pulled his face up from between your legs and pressed his forehead to yours. His breath was a mix of nicotine and you, and his moustache was nearly damp. His cheeks were reddened as well as his neck, and his eyes...

...you had never seen them more black.

You felt your way around his body, the two of you once again falling into the rhythm of saying everything and nothing, and your fingers traced their way to his bulge completely soaked.

He didn’t—

You looked up at him, shock surely present on your face, and he immediately kissed you harder than he had all night. His mouth was wet and tired, but still giving you everything you wanted. Ever the hard worker.

He pulled way to kiss your hairline and whispered, “Call me Javi from now on. I like it.”

And with that, he was backing out of your apartment, away from you, a bead of you still dripping down his chin as he closed the door.

Tag list: (I apologize if your tag is not working/not present. If you’d like to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

@leahkenobi @lovesbiggerthanpride @paintlavillered @xocalliexo @c4psicles-blog @joelsflannel @thesmutslut @untitledarea @aninnai

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña headcanon #javier peña smut #javier peña oneshot #javi #narcos #netflix #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal x reader #tlou #pedro pascal x you

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simp4pedropascal75 · 8 months

Text

Secretary (Javier Peña x Reader)

summary: You graduated from university with dreams of becoming a DEA agent. One year before your graduation, a class trip took you to Colombia, where you met Javier Peña. The two of you quickly bonded over the six months you spent together, but after you left, he grew distant. When you return as a freshly minted DEA agent, you discover that you have not been hired as a DEA agent, but as a secretary.

words: 5.2k

this ff takes place in the late 1980s! (but you still can chat with him? yeah, doesn't make sense)

trigger warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI, age gap(reader in her 20s, Javier in his late 30s), explict language, mentioning of s3x in public, fluff, violence, smoking, being catcalled and harrased by a man, a little bit of angst (?), spoilers of narcos season 1 (?), one mention of y/n

a/n: sorry for taking a while for writing a new ff, but i thank you for over 500 likes on bad guy and also thank you so much for over 108 followers<3 this really keeps me motivated to write.

I also apologize if I mess up the plot of narcos and don't get everything right like it is in the series. English is not my first language and I'm not finished with the series yet. I just finished season 2 episode 3, and lord have mercy with this sex scene of pedro.

But please don't spoiler me in the comments what happens next in the series, thanks<3

And I guess I'll be making a little series out of this, when my creativity is working, what do you think?

i wish you a fun time reading:)

-------------------♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡--------------------

You are finally getting your mark on your uniform from your teacher. You stand there with a proud smile, looking into the crowd and seeing your parents.

You finally graduated from university to be a DEA agent.

Since you were a kid, your dream was always being a DEA agent, just like your dad. Your dad was stationed in Colombia, that’s why you didn’t see him that much, but when you came visiting him or he came home to Miami, he told you about his stories. He told you how he chased drug traffickers, went on missions and all the other stuff. As a kid, it just amazed you.

That’s why you began to train early for being an DEA agent. Since you were 5, you started solving riddles, like: ‘who stole grandma’s cat?’ and so on. When you got older, you loved solving murder, drug cases or already solved cases from your dad, which you had to solve again.

And it was pretty fun… and to be honest, you were god damn good.

That’s why after you finished high school with 19 years, you went to a DEA university. You were lying, if you're saying it wasn’t pretty hard… sometimes, when you were on your lowest, you even thought about quitting. But even if it was difficult, you didn’t want to throw away your dream, so, you kept going.

One year before your graduation, you went to Colombia with your class. You stayed there 6 months and of course your lessons continued there.

You visited the station where your dad was working and that was also the time where the hunt of Pablo Escobar started. And also, the time… well, where you met Javier Peña.

Every Sunday, you and your class were allowed to go to the station and were shown around, got told some stories and some tips how life works as a DEA agent. It was pretty interesting…

and who really made it interesting was Javi.

You and Javier got pretty close for the whole six months. You got friends… well maybe a little more than that…

Of course, you also met his partner Steve Murphy and you got along also, but just as friends.

You didn’t remember exactly how everything with Javier started, but in the first weeks you were going to the station, you and Javi always talked and you two just got along well. Sometimes he would steal you from the rest of the group to show you some more private folders, because he knew how interested you were in all of this… and also, to make out with you.

But expect of how good he kisses… or fucks.

He was there when you needed him.

Unfortunately, in the last month, your dad got injured when he was on a mission with Javier and Steve. Your dad got shot bad in a shooting and when you got the news, Javi was there to comfort you. Luckily, your dad did survive, but he was left incapable of working ever again.

Also, you didn’t ever know, what you and Javier really are. You know, he slept with a lot of women, mostly to gain information for work, but he also stopped sleeping with other women, for the whole six months when he was with you,

well, that’s what Steve told you.

But he never actually asked you if you would be his girlfriend or something… but neither did you.

One time when he showed your class around, the topic was the balance between work and personal life. He told everyone that he personally doesn’t do ‘relationships’ because of work and he isn’t interested in it, he finds it more exciting to get to know many women. And that’s what probably kept you from asking him because you were scared to get rejected.

Of course, you fell in love with him, but you thought he didn’t.

Also, your dad doesn’t know anything about what you and Javier had… and if he would have found out, he would probably fire Javier. Since his incident he was very protective over you and worried about you getting a DEA agent like him.

But nothing got in your way again, even if you were really not feeling great because Javi and you barley had contact after you left.

You kept going.

And now you're finally standing on the stage, proud with your mark on your uniform and even graduated as the class best.

At the evening you begin packing your suitcase for the flight to Colombia. You planned since the beginning of your studies, to go back to Colombia and work at the same station your dad did. You feel excited of the thought that your dream is finally going true. Also… how will it be meeting Javi again?

You sigh at the thought and suddenly your phone vibrates. You grab it and look on the display.

Javi

‘heard you graduated, congratulations, hermosa.

Your heart skips as he writes you that and you don’t notice how red your cheeks get. He didn’t write you often, nearly never, but when he did, he continued calling you hermosa, cariño,… and all the other names he had for you.

you

thanks, agent. maybe I’ll be your boss soon.

Javi

you wish. your dad told me to pick you up at the airport tomorrow.

You start to get a nervous feeling in your chest, but also can’t help to smile.

you

okay, looking forward for tomorrow then, agent.

Javi

see you tomorrow, cariño.

You throw your phone on your bed and lay down next to it. You can’t keep down your butterflies in your stomach. The thought of seeing him again after one year has you smiling, but also getting you even more nervous.

What should I say when he picks me up?

Should you hug him? What if he kisses me?!

God, I really need to know what to talk about, I hate awkward silence.

You think and start panicking. You groan in frustration into your pillow. You grab after your phone and scroll through your chats with Javi.

Your smile fades as you see your calls he didn’t pick up, how he responded to some messages from you after literally one month. Sometimes he didn’t even respond. You know, he has really much work to do and doesn’t have it easy… but seeing how he barley contacted you, makes you feel disappointed… you really thought he would like you back…

Maybe I have to high expectations, you think.

Maybe he doesn’t care so much about that, but you do. You gave him your trust in so many ways…

And with that thought, you get up with a sigh and look frustrated at your closet. You watch at some of your bikinis. “yeah, I think I’m going to take this one”, you mumble to yourself with a smirk, taking the string bikini in his favourite colour.

…

You walk towards the exit with your two suitcases and back bag. As you step out of the airport, you take in the warm, tropical breezes. You feel the air brushing across your skin and hair. The sun’s rays are warm and comforting as they peek through the clouds. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, taking a moment for yourself that you’re finally reaching your dream.

“bienvenido a casa, hermosa.”, you hear a very familiar voice saying and you wince.

“goddammit- you scared the shit out of me”, you say out of breath and then take a moment to look at him. He’s leaned against the car, with a cigarette between his fingers. Your feelings are going insane again. He’s still the same, just like when you left. But… he got a little more muscular.

“really? that’s how you act when we see each other after this long time?”, he chuckles and raises an eyebrow.

“shut up”, you mumble as you roll your eyes and walk towards him. You don’t think about it and just wrap your hands around his neck and pull him into a hug. You hug him tightly and you don’t know why, but your eyes start to get wet. Smelling his scent again of cigarettes, leather and musk… it’s addicting.

As you feel how he pulls you closer by wrapping his hands around your waist, your heart skips.

“missed me?”, he whispers and you sense his smirk. “maybe.”, you answer and even if you don’t want to, you end the hug and go some steps back to take your suitcases.

As you feel a wet drop rolling down your cheek, you immediately wipe the tear away and pull yourself together to give him a happy smile. “would you mind helping me with these?”, you point out your baggage.

Javi chuckles as he takes the last drag out of his cigarette until he throws it away and takes two of your suitcases, putting it into the trunk. “god woman-, how many clothes have you in these?”, he gasps and closes it.

“‘need something to dress, you know”, you chuckle and roll your eyes while going into the car. You expected him to say something like: “around me you won’t have to wear many clothes”, but… obviously he holds himself back.

You take a seat next to him and he starts the engine, drinking away from the parking lot. You roll down the window to let the warm breeze of Colombia fly against you. As you were driving through the city, you couldn’t help but just stare out of the window. “feels good to be here again”, you mumble and notice how much you missed this.

You expected him to say something like: “feels good to have you near me again”, but no… nothing.

After a while you finally hear his voice again. “class’s best huh?”, he chuckles and you roll your eyes. “yeah. my dad told you?, you ask and see him nod. “yeah”

“How’s the situation with Pablo? I watched the news, but they don’t tell much and you never know if they’re telling real shit.”, you ask while looking at all the buildings. You see kids play soccer outside and smile. “He’s a fucking pain in the ass, that’s what I can tell you”, Javier mumbles while concentrating on the road.

“You know, we’ll be working together now, you can tell me?”, you point out and raise your eyebrows.

“Let me say, the situation got worse. It’s true that he killed all these people by blowing up an airplane”, he answers and you gulp when you hear that. “There’s a fuckin’ war right in Colombia.”, he adds.

You see that he’s tense because of this topic. As you take a closer look at his face, you also notice he didn’t get proper sleep for like a whole month. “And… you’re fine?”, you mumble concerned.

“I’m fine, hermosa. Nothing to worry about.”, he answers and drives in the streets of Medellin. You remember now where you are. You see the streets you and your class walked down. You also remember that you will soon drive past an ice cream truck… and memories pop up in your mind.

…

Javier kidnapped you from a trip with your class through the streets of Medellin, again. You were walking down the road, he was right behind you and constantly staring at your ass, because you wore a shorts.

How couldn’t you? It was like 40 degrees in the middle of the day.

A heat wave was surrounding you and the sun was shining right into your face. “you’re not very unobtrusive when it comes to staring, you know.”, you smirk and take a quick look behind you.

“maybe I don’t want to be unobtrusive…”, he says while taking a drag from his cigarette. You roll your eyes at him. You just continue walking and hear a chuckle behind you as you rolled your eyes.

As you keep walking, you spot an ice cream truck. “You know, I really need to cool down now.”, you say and with that you just cross the street, walking towards the ice cream truck. “ice cream, really?”, you hear Javi saying behind you. “You want one too?”, you ask but he shakes his head to no in response.

“Hola señor, me gustaría una cucharada de vainilla y fresa en la oblea, por favor.”, you order in Spanish. You smile proud as the man in the truck understands you and gives you a smile. “Impressing.”, you hear Javier whispering right behind you what makes you laugh. Your Spanish wasn’t actually that bad, when you came to Colombia as a kid to visit your dad, you heard this language all around you. And in school you also had some Spanish lessons.

The man hands you over the ice cream and you hand him the money instead. “Gracias”, you say with a kind smile and then go on the crosswalk again. You and Peña walked to a shady spot, to give you two a break from the burning sun.

You start licking your ice cream from the bottom to the top. And, he was watching you.

He sees how you take long stripes of the ice cream, sometimes licking just the tip. Because of the hot Colombian sun, the ice cream begins to melt quickly.

Drops of ice cream land on your hot, light sweated neck, your thighs and your chin. Then, also on your tank top. “Fuck…,” you mumble and don’t notice how hard you’re making it for Javier. You take your finger, wipe the ice cream away and lick it off your finger.

“goddammit, y/n.”, you hear him cuss quietly, you look at him and notice the bulge on his jeans. “Ops.”, you say innocently and chuckle. You just continue licking your ice cream while looking directly into his eyes. You love teasing him… and always know where it leads you too.

It doesn’t take long to Javier grab your arm and drag you into a small alley. You let your ice cream fall, because of him. “Javi! My ice cream!”, you say literally heart broken like a kid and pout.

Suddenly you feel his tongue licking up the ice cream, which landed on your neck. “Javi, what are you-“, he cuts you off by smashing his lips onto yours. His tongue slips into your mouth, tasting the flavour of your ice cream.

Some minutes later, you find yourself being fucked from behind and pressed against the cold wall.

…

You don’t notice you’re pressing your tights together, but he does. “How about we get some ice cream? I really want to have ice cream now”, you ask with a slight smile on your face. You wanted to see if he remembered, if his body still responses to the memories of you.

And… it does.

He hesitates and wants to disagree. “Please...”, you beg and you know one thing, he can’t resist your begging… well, not for a long time.

You hear him let out a loud sigh, before whispering a quiet: “okay”.

Yup, still works, you think.

He pulls over and parks right next to the ice cream truck. And it’s really the same as one year ago.

You get out of the car and order yourself an ice cream, you feel him looking at you while you’re waiting. After you finally got your ice cream, you come back in the car and buckle up. You took the same flavours as last time. You take a long stripe of the ice cream and let out a soft satisfying moan.

God, how you missed this.

You hear Javier starting the engine quite impulsive and you can’t help but chuckle.

“So, where we’re going?”, you ask while licking your ice cream. “I’ll let you out at your dads old apartment. You can get yourself comfortable there and unpack your suitcases until I pick you up to drive to the station.”, he says tense but focussed on the road. You let out a cute short “okay” and just continued looking out of the window.

After thirty minutes, you arrive at the building where your dad’s old apartment was. You get out of the car and Javier opens the trunk, taking out your suitcases. As you wanted to take the suitcases, Javier has them already in his grip and getting them up the stairs.

“such a gentleman”, you tease and he opens the door of your building. “just get your ass up these stairs”, he says while rolling his eyes and you laugh.

As you two walked up some stairs, you finally arrived at your apartment. He gets out the keys your dad left for you and locks up the door. You walk through the door and immediately look around while Javier is getting your baggage inside. “It’s cute”, you say and walk to the front door, where he’s standing.

“There you go, cariño.”, he hands you over the keys, “‘gonna pick you up at 4, okay?”, you nod in response. “Thanks”, you say to him with a smile before he closes the door and you see him driving away.

You sigh and everything still feels pretty unrealistic. You go on your small balcony, feeling the hot sun burning in your skin. “I’m back, Colombia.”

You started unpacking your suitcase and made yourself comfortable. You took a shower, put a little make up on to cover the rings under your eyes and got yourself a dress. You’re wearing a white tank top with a shorts, since it’s still very hot outside. “I really need to go grocery shopping...”, you mumble when you’re looking in the empty fridge. You grab an apple out your bag pack and take a bite.

You look at the clock and it’s already 4 o’clock. You grab your cardigan, in case it gets colder in the evening and walk down the stairs, going out on the street and looking around for Javier. It doesn’t take long until you see a black Jeep Cherokee driving down the street.

Yeah, that’s him.

He pulls over and is leaned out of the window with a cigarette in his fingers. He’s wearing the same as in the morning, but now with yellow toned sunglasses.

God, he looks fucking hot.

“Ready?”, he asks while taking a drag of his cigarette. “always”, you reply with a smirk and get in the car. As he starts driving, you feel the excitement building up in you. The thought of you finally working and getting your place in a DEA station, makes your heart jump from happinesses. You worked your whole life for this.

You don’t live far away from the station and as Javier was parking, you saw Steve waiting outside. A big smile comes across your face. You two get out of the car and we’re walking towards the entrance.

“Hello, newbie”, Steve chuckles as he pulls you into a hug. “Shut up”, you roll your eyes and hug him back. “good to see you again”, he says as he lets go of you and you give him a smile. “good to see you too”, you reply and suddenly the door opens and Colonel Carrillo comes out.

You’ve seen him not often, just sometimes when your dad talked with him. “Buenos días, señorita Álvarez”, he says and offers his hand for a handshake. You give him a smile. “Colonel Carrillo.”, you nod and shake his hand, as Javi and Steve greet him too. ”also congratulations for graduating”, he says kind but with a stern face. “Follow me”, he says and walks into the station with you three following.

You squeak quietly because of excitement and your heart beats out of your chest. You walk through the hallway, and already seeing the office of the DEA agent, but instead of walking further, Carrillo opens the door to the secretary’s office.

“There you go”, he says and you just stand there confused. But not only you’re confused, you also feel Javier and Steve’s confusing look. “Um… that’s the secretary’s office”, you mumble and Carrillo nods. “Yeah.”, he says confidently. “I’m a DEA agent, sir.”, you point out, still completely confused.

“Oh, your father didn’t told you yet?”, you shake your head to no. “Your dad wanted you to watch first, to get some feeling for the job before working completely as a DEA agent. Also, the case with Pablo Escobar is kind of heavy.”, Carrillo continues explaining and you can’t believe what you’re hearing.

“What.”, you gasp slightly and feeling complete anger flowing through your whole body.

“‘being your boss soon’, huh?”, you hear Javi quoting your message with a chuckle. You find that anything but funny. “Shut the fuck up.”, you growl to him, and then force a smile to Carrillo.

“If you would excuse me for a minute, sir.”, you mumble tensely and get out of the office, walking out of the station and calling your dad. Murphy and Peña follow you outside, watching you walk up and down while holding your cellphone to your ear.

“poor girl.”, Steve sighs while leaning against the wall. “guess daddy is pretty scared for her”, he adds and Javi sighs while lighting up a cigarette, handing the lighter to Steve. “I mean, she isn’t bad… I think she would be a good help for us.”, Javi says while taking a drag of his cigarette while they watch you literally yell into your cellphone.

“Dad what the actual fuck?! You know how hard I worked for becoming an agent, and now you’re hiring me as the fucking secretary?”, you yell upset. “You’re not even working as the Colonel with Carrillo anymore, how can you still decide something like that!?”

“I wouldn’t want to get into an argument with her, that’s clear..”, Steve mumbles as he’s taking a drag of his cigarette too and looks over to Javi, who’s just watching you.

“You’re planning to fuck with her again?”, he asks and laughs slightly. “Shut up, Murphy”, Javi mumbles. “No I mean seriously… I know you like her, man”, Steve says while you’re still yelling into your phone, shortly before throwing it on the street.

“‘dunno… I didn’t reply to her calls, or texts often after she left…”, Javi sighs.

“Wow.”, Steve gasps as he finishes smoking. “You really are an asshole”, Steve points out and claps on his shoulder.

“but seriously, she likes you, Peña. Make it up to her ”, he says seriously while you’re on the edge to destroy your phone. “You really need a woman in your life, man”.

“Dad, I’m fucking 26! I can take care of myself”, they hear and see you scream.

Javi starts thinking about Steve words and finishes his cigarette too.

“she’s not gonna throw her phone, is she?”, Steve asks while raising his eyebrows as he keeps watching you how literally go rage. “If you think that, you don’t know her enough”, Javi just answers and one second later, you hang up and throw your cellphone directly throw it on the ground.

Steve just stays there in shock. “Told you”, Javi chuckles. As Steve sees how you walk towards them, he immediately makes his way into the station again. “‘need to do some paperwork”, he excuses and Javi rolls his eyes at him.

You take a deep breath and walk to Javi. “Well unfortunately my dad thinks I’m incapable of taking care and defending myself, even if I trained my whole fucking life for this.”, you complain and run your hand through your hair.

“'guess being class best and graduating after such a long time, isn’t enough.”, you sigh and try to calm down. Javi just keeps looking at you.

“I’ll talk to him”, he suddenly says and you look at him. “what? with my dad? that won’t help”, you scoff. “No, I mean with Colonel Carrillo. "I have a good rapport with him.”, he tells you and puts his hand into his pockets.

“If it doesn’t help, you can come over to us in secret, going through some folders and stuff”, he suggests and you nod slowly. “yeah…”, you just sigh. “thanks.. “, you add, turn around and take your phone with a pretty broken display from the ground.

“Would you mind driving me to the grocery store? I don’t have my car yet”, you ask after some minutes of silence. He takes a look at his watch. “Well, I have thirty minutes until my shift begins, if you do it quick, then I can drive y-”, he replies while still leaning against the wall. “good, thanks.”, you cut him off and make your way to his car.

…

You're leaned on the card and walk through the market. Your cart is already half full and you’re soon finished. Javi was walking behind you and the whole time his eyes were fixed on your ass, you could feel it.

And that’s why you couldn’t stop smirking. “Stop smirking so much, you’ll get wrinkles”, he chuckles and you make your way towards the checkout. “says the man who’s soon in his 40s”, you tease him back and he laughs.

How much you love his laugh…

When you walk to his car with him carrying your two full grocery bags, he takes a look at his watch again and you hear him cuss in Spanish. “I’m already ten minutes late..”, Javier hisses.

“Oh, I’ll walk the rest. My apartment is not far from here and I have to get my cellphone repaired anyway.”, you say, wanting to take the bags from his hands. “I won’t let you walk home alone on these streets, especially if it’s getting dark.”, he says serious, not handing you over the bags. “I can defend myself, it’s fine. Go to work”, you mumble more seriously and grab your bags, ripping them out of his grip.

“When something happens to you-“, you cut him off. “Go to work”, you shout and make your way on the other side of the street.

You hear him cuss in Spanish behind you and just chuckle. You changed in many ways after one year, but one thing always stayed the same.

Your obstinacy, confidence and trust in your skills.

“maybe if you hadn’t been busy with staring at my ass, you would’ve checked the time earlier.”, you shout with a cheeky smile to him as he goes into his car. You chuckle and hear him drive away.

You know when the whole case about Pablo Escobar wasn’t so serious, you know he would’ve driven you home, but unfortunately it was.

It was getting dark and you made your way to a electronic shop. After you talked with the man behind the counter, he told you, you can pick up your phone tomorrow.

When you got out of the store, it was dark outside and got kinda cold. You wanted to put on your cardigan, but notice that you forgot it in Javier’s car. “fuck..”, you mumble and continue walking with your grocery bags.

A group of men were walking next to you on the other side of the street, beginning to catcall you. You start to feel uncomfortable and walk a little quicker, ignoring them. They were continuing catcalling you, and being a woman, alone on a street while it’s fucking dark, is kind of scary.

But that’s life as a woman, I guess…, you think

But you pull yourself together and remind yourself of your confidence, knowing you would knock the fuck out of them. You were five minutes away from your apartment, but suddenly one of the men decided to switch sidewalks and walk to you.

“Buenas noches, hermosa. ¿Buscas alojamiento?”, he asks while walking next to you.

Someone else calling you hermosa, who’s not Javier, gives you the shivers.

Your Spanish wasn’t perfect, but you think he asked you if you have a place to sleep tonight or something.

You continued ignoring him, and he continues speaking to you, but now you didn’t understand shit… and to be honest, you didn’t want to understand it.

You could sense and smell he’s drunk. “Vete a la mierda”, you tell him to fuck off.

Suddenly he grabs your arm, and that was it. You let fall your grocery bags, grab his hand and kick him right into his balls. He couldn’t react fast enough because of the alcohol, so you also kicked him with your knee right into his face.

You hear a car coming nearer, but ignore it. As the guy lies on the ground, you punch him right in his face. You hear his mates being shocked. “You want too? Come here then!”, you shout challenging, but they didn’t thought twice and ran away.

You just scoff as you see them walking away and bending down to grab to pick up your groceries.

Suddenly, you feel a hand on your back. “Cariño, are you o-“, before your brain can process and recognise that it’s Javier’s voice, you punch him directly into his face. You hear him groan in pain and as you look up, you see his car. “Omg- I’m so sorry-“, you panic and take his hand into your face, looking at his bleeding nose. You take out a tissue of your shorts and hold it against his nose.

“I thought it was someone of these men-“, he cuts you off and takes the tissue himself. “You got a hell of a punch, you know that”, he says while holding the tissue at his nose.

A part of your brain starts thinking, he deserves it. For ignoring you for so long. You start to form s slight smirk on your lips, but then throw the thought away.

“What a secretary I am, huh?”, you chuckle and pick up your groceries. He stuffed the tissue into his nose and then helps you, getting all your groceries together and then lifting up your grocery bags.

“Don’t you have to work?”, you ask him confused because it was just 20 minutes ago when he left. “‘told Carrillo I forgot a folder at home, I can’t let a beautiful woman like you, walk home alone.”, he says while going to his car. “but I have to say, you handled the situation pretty well, he’s completely knocked out.”, he smirks and gets the grocery bags in his car.

As he called you beautiful, you blush slightly and take a seat in his car. “‘didn’t train for nothing, you know”, you giggle while he starts the engine and drives you home.

As you arrive after literally 2 minutes, you take your cardigan and get out of the car. “thank you for still looking for me”, you mumble and put the cardigan on.

“no problem… but I kind of deserved this punch, didn’t I?”, he sighs while you take your grocery bags.

Now you can’t hide your dirty smirk anymore.

“Yeah, you kind of did”, you answer and close his car door.

“‘wish you a good shift then, be careful”, you give him a smile and then walk to the building, getting out your keys. “see you tomorrow, hermosa”, he calls after you and as you walk through the door, you hear him drive off.

...

The next morning you finally got your car and could drive alone. Even if you enjoyed Javier’s as your driver. You get to the DEA station and walk to your office…

You see a sign with your name on your desk, and under it is written: secretary.

Yup, still hate that, you think and let out a loud sigh.

You take a seat on your chair and lean back. After a while some woman comes in and gives you some paperwork, and also a folder that you can catch up with everything. Even if the thought, that you normally could work in the DEA office to take down some of Pablo’s guys, makes you angry, you need to live with it for a while now. And then, you get started…

After some hours you hear a knock on your door. “Come in”, you say loud and as you look up who it is, you roll your eyes. “Agent Peña”, you call him while having the folder in the hand.

“‘The previous secretary was fired because being caught flirting, kissing and sleeping with one of the agents’”, you read out loud and then look up at him. “And who might that be huh?”, you ask serious while raising an eyebrow at him, knowing exactly who it probably was.

“Even if you won’t believe me now, it wasn’t me”, he answers and places a coffee on your desk. You raise your eyebrows at him. And he was right, you didn’t believe him.

But, why should you care? You’re not together or anything… but the thought of him fucking another women, makes you jealous… and kinda sad.

“you’re fucking all your secretaries now, Agent Peña?”, you ask cheeky while being leaned back in your chair. He just chuckles while shaking his head and places his hands on your desk, leaning against it.

“No, just you.”, he answers and you choke on your coffee because you took a sip.

“We’re definitely not fucking and I’m not your secretary.”, you say serious to make a point.

He takes a cigarette from his ear into his fingers and puts it between his lips, while making his way out of your office.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that in some weeks.”

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marvelwitchergilmore · 1 year

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Summary; Javier Peña x Fe!Reader -> You meet Peña at a coffee shop but after time passes, he finds out your secret.

Disclaimer: fluff, angst, mentions of guns, mentions of death, illusions to smut, swearing (I think, I haven't proof read this - probably spelling mistakes), spanish is in italics.

You had met Javi one late night in the coffee shop. You were getting the place cleaned up for the morning. Isabella, a regular customer, was sat in the corner with her nose burried deep in her research. The old man who’d you come to know as Pops - a name he told everyone to call him by - was finishing his book closer to the counter. It had been a promise he made to his wife. To read a little, at least, while she was gone. That way they’d have something else to talk about when they met again. Jośe, the young boy who’d run through the door every couple of hours in need of a coffee for his mama and a small cookie for himself, had just left, rushing out of the door going ten miles an hour.

“Good book, pops?” You asked and he looked up and smiled.

“Excellent.”

“Good.” You smiled.

Just as you placed the empty cups from different tables by the counter, the bell above the door rang out. “You open?”

You looked over your shoulder. “Yeah. For a couple minutes.”

“Great.”

He rushed over, you moving the dirty cups from the counter.

“What can I get for you?” You asked in English.

“Coffee. Decaf.”

“Coming up.”

Then it hit him. “How’d you know I was American?”

“What?” You looked to him as you changed the filter. “Oh, uh, just a guess.”

He nodded and looked around, suddenly being met with Pops.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Sweet.”

You smiled and waved to Pops. “Have a good night.”

“Night.”

“Nice Spanish.”

You smiled. “Thanks. I’ve lived here long enough, I should know.”

“I’m Javier, by the way.”

You smiled back and gave him your name which he repeated. It sounded nice.

“So, how long have you lived in Columbia?”

“A couple years. Yourself?”

“Same.”

The conversation ended soon enough when his coffee was paid for - he had something important to get back to.

But the next night, you were closing up again and he came in. In fact, for the following weeks, he came in around the same time every night; just before closing.

He started conversations with Pops who would tell Javier the meaning behind all his books. He actually started taking a couple of night classes at the local college. His wife always told him he needed to socialise more.

She was a people person.

And Javier would sit there and listen. Pops, clearly, was a man who demanded respect with a single look. Something, over the weeks, you realised Peña had, too.

During the week, you had heard rumours about Javier. About his job.

But it was never something you asked him about. You knew more than to ask an American in Columbia if he was working for the government.

But still, he’d come in every day and order a cup of coffee and smoke his cigarette. You’d both talk and eventually, it got to the point where he’d walk you home.

It wasn’t far; maybe a couple of blocks.

You’d tell him why you came to Columbia - your sister. She travelled after college and invited you to join her. But something made you stay.

He ask where you learnt Spanish. You’d tell him school, mostly, but the practice came in while you worked in the coffee shop.

Some days, he’d come in during the day and just talk to you. He’d order a coffee here and there but it mostly remained untouched which wasn’t like him.

Steve had asked questions at work about who Javi was going seeing every day - at first he expected it was to see one of his ‘informants’ but after he began to smell less perfume and more coffee around Peña, it raises his suspicions.

Peña would give a vague answer but when Steve told Connie, she knew instantly.

It wasn’t that a woman’s intuition was lost of Peña, it was just something about Connie that scared him. She seemed to know what he was thinking about whenever she looked at him.

Little did he know, she’d seen him a couple times walk into the same coffee shop and leave with a smile on his face. One Connie nor Steve ever saw on the man’s face.

But surpringly, it took him a while to ask you on a date.

Javier wasn’t one for dating. After all, his job didn’t exactly allow it - especially in Columbia - but Connie (and Pops) thought he would have at least done it sooner. After all, the man came in every day for weeks just to simply spend time with you. He’d walk you home and always made sure you were safe. And god help any man that approached the counter and started flirting with you.

It was like Javier had a radar for those who were flirting with you because each time, not two seconds later, Javier would stroll into the shop and make his way to the counter. Most times, it was like you had a radar for him, too. His coffee would be ready for him to pick up and if the guy wasn’t scared away by the look Peña gave them, he’d order a couple more cups for Steve and Connie (she’d usually come by in the afternoons to check in on him when she had the day off). He’d stay until the guy left and most people who looked away from their books noticed.

And maybe, in truth, you had noticed a little, too. Most guys tended to scarper when Javi walked in. A few of them would even apologise to him and you for thinking differently.

Eventually, when he asked you on a date, you said yes.

He was so nervous. Imagine; Javier Peña, nervous around a woman. Even the heavens wouldn’t believe it.

But he was.

He’d asked after he dropped you off at your apartment. His palms were sweating, his mind was racing, and you were right in front of him.

But the moment you smiled, his nerves eased.

You smiled at him, nodded and said; “I’d love to.”

He smiled back, a little more confident, and before you opened your door, you kissed his cheek.

“Goodnight, Javi.”

“Night, hermosa.”

As you closed your door, leaning against it, you smiled but you knew.

You were in deep trouble.

It didn’t take too long before you were both…intimate with one another. Four dates, in fact. It was longer than either of you had presumed but it kinda made sense. Mostly, the dates went as follows:

You’d both ask questions which the other would answer, just simply wanting to know more. Then, you’d take turns picking the restaurant or bar. Next, you’d both head back to the coffee shop - the temp waitress had a family to get back to in the late nights - where you’d wrap your apron around your waist and serve the last couple cups of coffee to the night owls. Finally, Javi would either walk or drive you home (usually walk since he could hold your hand or wrap an arm around your waist) and finally would kiss you goodnight.

It felt different.

You’d gone on dates before but…they didn’t feel like this. Like…it was the first time but it was also the millionth.

It felt…natural.

Homely.

A couple more weeks passed and you’d see Javier at least once a day. He always pop into the cafe to either kiss you good morning (when you hadn’t spent the night together - which was a rareity) or to kiss you goodnight which, you weren’t ashamed to admit would always turn into something more.

One morning, as Javi lay back in bed, the cover draped over his lower half, he watched as you got dressed by the end of the bed.

But that was when he noticed them.

How he hadn’t before shocked him. It was like he studied every inch of you - and not only in the night but that morning too - and yet, how did they slip by him.

“Hermosa?”

You smiled at the nickname before turning to look at him over you shoulder. You just wished you both had the day off.

“The marks…”

It took you a moment to realise what he was talking about. But then it hit you.

A memory you wished to forget.

“They’re just from…” you contemplated telling him.

He’d understand, right? He never confirmed it fully but you knew he worked as DEA. He’d understand carry a couple extra physical scars from a job, right?

“They’re nothing, Javi.”

You heard him shuffle around before you finally felt his hand on your back, tracing them before placing a soft kiss onto a couple, brushing your hair from your shoulders.

You felt yourself melt into him, his other hand now reaching around your stomach to capture the other side of your waist.

Slowly, you both lay back but then you remembered.

You had a job.

Unfortunately.

Javi groaned. He had one, too.

You pressed a few kisses to his lips before he moved from on top of you and headed for the bathroom, him leaving you resting on your forearms with a huge blush across your cheeks.

God, you were falling.

Hard.

It would be a while longer until Javier would find out the truth behind those scars; Find out the story that came with them and you.

And it wasn’t in any way either of you thought it would happen.

4 months later…

The sun was still burning hot over Columbia. Thankfully, however, the humidity was becoming less close and claustrophobic.

Yourself and Javi had been going pretty strong. You had met Steve and Connie - albeit a little surprisingly.

One of your waitresses had cut their hand whilst cutting up some of the breads for lunch later that day. Connie had been passing on the street with Olivia when one of the customers ran out asking for a nurse or doctor.

Connie came rushing inside.

After asking for your first aid kit and a space away from the customers, she handed you Olivia who you stood with in the kitchen as Connie cleaned out the wound and did what was necessary.

“You’re lucky. It doesn’t need stitches. Just keep it wrapped and clean.”

Your waitress, Elena, looked to you confused. You translated in Spanish and she nodded before thanking Connie.

You gave Elena the rest of the day and offered Connie a cup of coffee and some food on the house. She thanked you before sitting down at one of the tables and placing Olivia on her lap.

Yet, by the time you finished up, Javi had come strolling in and was a little shocked to find Connie sat inside.

And, as suspected, Connie was shocked to find Javi there, too. But then it began to make sense.

The smell off the coffee shop - it was Javi.

It was you.

Later that night, after Connie had insisted, you sat down and had a double date with Connie and Steve at a local place.

Steve was glad Peña had finally found someone. As much as he himself had enjoyed the single life, there was just something about being married. About having someone to go to when things got too tough.

And, this was something, if Steve ever said it out loud, Jacier would have to agree with.

Sometimes it was like you were the only thing keeping him breathing. Keeping his mind awake when all it wanted to do was drown in the crime and the cases he delt with on a daily basis.

The last six months, from the moment of meeting, it had felt like bliss.

But sometimes it felt like Javi was waiting for the other shoe to drop. And, although you never voiced it, you did, too.

And finally, late one night in the coffee shop, it did.

Javi had worked later than he’d wished to have done. His paperwork had kept him back, making seven typing errors in one sentence.

Most of the time, he wouldn’t bother. But with Messina…everything had to be up to code.

And legible.

But as he walked up the street, he found flashing lights outside your coffee shop, a waitress sat by the ambulance getting patched up and no sign of you.

His heart dropped.

“Peña?”

One of the cops recognised him. “I wasn’t aware we’d called the DEA.”

“You…what happened?”

“Oh, uh, robbery. Or, attempted. Two shooters. One deceased.”

“And the other?”

“Hospital.”

“How?”

“The owner faught. One of them came from the back and sneaked up on her. She said she was fine and needs to go home. We’re gonna bring her in for questioning tomorrow.”

Peña nodded, trying his best to keep a clear mind. So you was okay? Why hadn’t you called him?

As quickly as he could, he ran to his car and sped down the roads towards your apartment. But the closer he seemed to get, the more he began to panic.

You had faught?

It wasn’t that he was surprised but…no, he was surprised. Most people when met with two armed gun men didn’t exactly fight against them. Especially when the only other person in the shop had been knocked clean out and now had a severe concussion.

But you had faught. You had, what? Killed one gun man and injured the other?

This seemed more than just a robbery, to Peña. He didn’t exactly know why. Maybe it was the fact that the toll hadn’t even been touched. Maybe it was the fact that they’d knocked out one of the waitresses. Maybe it was the gun they had been using - Peña saw them as they got taken in for evidence.

This couldn’t have just been a robbery.

Peña didn’t bother knocking. He knew where you kept the spear key and he knew the code.

He shouted your name as he entered, shutting the door behind him. “Honey?!”

Javier had to double back as he passed the enterence to you living room. There you were, sat on the sofa, blood splattered across your body, hair, arms and clothes. You had a first aid kit open in front of you. Javier could see the bloody gauzes in a pile in the table.

“I’m fine-“

He rushed in, pulling you up and hugging you. God, he thought you might have been dead. That the cop had got it wrong and he’d decided to just hear what he wanted to.

But he didn’t.

You were here.

You were alive.

Are.

“Cariño,” Javi’s voice was soft as he took you in. Any anger he had right now could be saved for later. All that mattered was that you was alive.

You pulled back from him to sit back down. You needed to clean the wound.

One of the gun men had got you. Thankfully it wasn’t too bad and since it was night, you got away with telling the cop the stain on your uniform was from the kitchens.

Peña pushed the first aid beside him as he sat on your coffee table, you knees interlocked with his.

“It doesn’t hurt?” He asked you after a couple of minutes. He was shocked. Most men he’d met would be at least grunting in pain by now.

You shook your head.

Something changed in Javi. His back became straighter, his gaze more focused.

“Those scars. How did you get them?”

“Javi.”

“There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“They’re nothing-“

“Bullshit.”

You stared him down. He wouldn’t budge.

“How did you fight? Those men. One is dead and the other will probably do so in hospital. What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Y/N.”

You bursted. You tried your best to look away as Javi questioned you but when he said your name…

“I was a cop, alright!” You hadn’t meant for it to sound so loud.

Javi just looked at you. You hadn’t told him? Was this how you got the scars?

You sighed as you looked down. Well, it was out in the open now.

“I was a cop, back in the states. FBI.” You explained, your voice a little quieter now. “I had a partner, a couple years back. We had been working on a case for months. Turns out, all the information, all the insider stuff he’d found - it had come from him. He wanted into their circle. The people I had seen die, everyone’s families and children and friends had all died because he was the mole. He would tell the group where to find the families, he’d tell us he knew where the groups would be that night. Then he’d go back and inform them that we were on our way. It as fucked up.”

Javi waited for you to continue.

“Look, I felt something was wrong so I tailed him one night. I put a call in and somehow…he found me one night. He caught be by the shipyard. When my agents finally turned up, I was almost dead. When I woke up in hospital, a guy came in. CIA. I had a bag packed, my life covered up and a plane ticket to wherever I wanted to go.”

“So you came to Columbia?”

“My sister stopped over for three days and I stayed. I don’t know what made me but I did. An agent found me a job at a local place since I wasn’t ready to go into the field or anywhere near it. The job stuck and then I decided to buy the place.”

“And the guys?”

“Local gang, I guess. They look into everyone’s background and they must have thought something was up with mine.”

“Did they say anything?”

“Just that I was American and that I had a dirty secret.”

“They know you were a fed?”

You shook your head. “Probably thought I was an informant or some shit.”

Javier nodded. You could see the worry in his eyes.

“I’m fine, Javi.”

“You could have told me, you know.”

You looked at him. Maybe. Maybe you could have told him earlier. Maybe you should have told him earlier. But what would that have done? Make him worry more? Make him panic when you were left alone?

You’d been in Columbia a good few years before you met Javi. You were one of the best agents the FBI had in the field and - if you ever wanted it - there was a job waiting for you at the FBI in the states, the CIA or, probably now, the DEA.

You were protected. By your career, by your knowledge, by your skills and by the fact that you entire past had been burried so deep, not even the Pentagon had access to it.

Your gaze was both soft and serious.

“I’m telling you now.”

Over the next hour, Javi went to your bathroom and grabbed a fresh face cloth before getting a bowl of warm water. Sitting back in his place on the table, he held your chin softly, Turing your face so he could wipe away the splats of dried blood.

Once he finished, he placed the cloth down and turned back when he felt your hand grip his.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

Javi just nodded, interlocking his knees with yours once more. “I get it. I do. I just wish…”

“I know.”

You both shared a look with one another. It didn’t need to be said out loud.

Peña leaned in, and pressed a secure kiss to your lips.

You would be okay.

You are alive.

And, over time, more stories would be revealed. What happened on certain jobs, what scars came from where, what they signified…

But in this moment; it didn’t matter.

All of that could wait until tomorrow.

For tonight, he wanted to show you what you meant to him. He’d say the words soon enough, but right now, he just needed to show you.

And you were okay with that.

After all, you felt the exact same way.

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