#narcos colombia

[hiscyarika]

Landslide: Chapter Six

Word Count: 4.5k

Summary: Reader and Javier contemplate their next steps after they’ve rekindled their love.

Warning(s): None

A/N: Surprise! I’m back with this series. I’m hoping there are still some of you around to read it. No matter what, I’m determined to finish, no longer how long it takes me. But thank you to the people that have and will read this. Your support means more to me than you know! And a special thank you to @bestintheparsec​ for taking a look at this before I published it! You’re the best, Lauren! (Enjoy the things I added and didn’t tell you about :) )❤️

Masterlist

Tag Lists

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five

(Gif by @anakin-skywalker​, originally from this post.) Please let me know if you’d rather me not use the gif. I’ll remove it immediately! No questions asked.

The morning comes easy.

Javier does not wake with the sun. As the sky breaks, golden with the dawn of a new day, he sleeps, and he sleeps peacefully.

When he does wake, it is of his own volition. He doesn’t have to pry his open, doesn’t have to force himself to move and stretch the muscles that have stiffened in his sleep. He gives himself time. He is in no hurry to greet the day when he can spend it right where he is, with you in his arms. Where you belong.

Javier looks down to find that you are still sound asleep. A tender smile graces his lips as he watches the slow rise and fall of your chest. For just a moment, he has to convince himself that this isn’t a dream, that he won’t wake to an empty bed and an empty heart. His bed has been cold for years, or at least it may as well have been. The women he tried to warm it with, while he may have cared for them, they never meant as much to him as you do. They were never able to fill the void of losing you. But now, with your back pressed flush against his chest and his arm draped over your torso, the ache of loneliness has already become a distant, blurred memory. He knows that you won’t let it find him again.

He shifts, reaching out just a bit further to rest his hand on top of yours, carefully threading your fingers together. In the quiet tranquility of the morning, Javier finds himself considering what the future will bring. For the first time since the day he left you, he doesn’t fear what the next day or the rest of his days might entail. In fact, he welcomes this next chapter, this redemption of which you have deemed him worthy. He’s sure that he’ll never comprehend what made you drive to the house last night, to let him love you the same way that he had a decade ago, to love him the same way that you had then. Javier knows full well that this is a second chance, a mercy, that he doesn’t deserve, so he won’t squander it.

No, he’ll spend the rest of his life making up for lost time.

He sighs softly, pressing a feather-light kiss to the curve of your neck. His eyes trail slowly along your body, and he takes care to note the way that every part of you fits so perfectly against him, just like you always have. In his mind, it’s just another testament to the fact that things were always meant to end up like this.

You begin to stir under his arm, squeezing his fingers a bit tighter as you wake. Javier almost feels bad, knowing that if he’d stayed still, you’d likely still be asleep, but then your eyes flutter open, lashes fanning your cheeks as you adjust to the sunlight creeping in through the window. You let out a long exhale, yawning and stretching your legs, and then your lips curve into a gentle smile.

“Good morning, Javi,” you murmur, voice laden with sleep. You turn to look over your shoulder at him as you speak, and he greets you with a tender kiss.

“Buenos días, mi amor,” he whispers, gently pulling you closer to his chest.

“Sleep well?” you ask him, shifting to lie on your back next to him. His hand, still joined with yours, rests on top of your stomach. Javier can’t help but smile at the question, his chest blooming with warmth.

He leans down, close enough that his forehead ghosts against yours. “Better than I have in years, querida,” he says, lips brushing against yours as he speaks. He pauses, then leans in closer, his warmth pressed fully against you now. “Thank you,” he whispers. The words come straight from his mended soul. As if the years in Colombia hadn’t been hard enough, the last few nights had been particularly difficult for him, but that was all worth it if it means that he gets to spend every night this close to you now. Having you this close has already begun to put him back together.

You giggle softly and his chest tightens with affection. “Why are you thanking me?” you ask, bringing your free hand up to cradle his jaw. He closes his eyes for a moment at the contact, but soon meets your gaze again, grinning slightly. He’s quiet for a moment, trying to form a proper answer to your question, but just shakes his head in the end, pressing another kiss to your lips.

“Nevermind, mi amor. Nevermind,” he murmurs, delicately stroking your fingers with the pad of his thumb. He pauses for just a brief moment as he brushes over your bare ring finger. His eyes linger on the empty space where your wedding band should be, though not long enough for you to notice. Before you can follow his gaze, he brings your hand up, brushing his lips over your skin.

You lean up with a grin on your lips and a hint of mischief shining in your eyes, intent on kissing him again. But you stop about an inch from him, halted by the sound of the door opening and then closing just a moment after. “Shit,” you breathe, falling back against the pillow. You free your hands from Javier, both of them covering your face as you sigh and try to hide your embarrassment.

Javier looks down at you quizzically, speaking in a soft huff of laughter. “What?” he asks, lifting a hand from your face and threading his fingers with yours once again. It’s an action that he doesn’t even process, his conscious thought superseded by the need to keep you as near to him as he can. “It’s just my dad. The auction was rained out the other day.”

You part your fingers to reveal your eyes, opening them to stare up at Javier in disbelief. “Exactly.”

Javier stops and turns his head to look at the door. Both of you are deathly silent as you wait to hear Chucho again. Javier just grins when you both hear nothing. “Well, he hasn’t called for either of us yet, which means he knows we’re up here.”

You groan, replacing the hand covering your face with an unused pillow from the other side of the bed.

Javier laughs again. A real, deep laugh from the chest. “Aw, querida, what’s the matter?” he asks, but his tone is playfully mocking you as he tries to pry the pillow from beneath your arm. You’re not holding onto it tightly enough to stop him, and so he exposes you again.

“Javi, we haven’t been caught like this since we were teenagers,” you tell him, and though you’re trying to be serious, the gleeful look on his face is infectious.

“Mi amor,” he starts, trying to reason with you. He leans down and plants a kiss on your forehead, then finally releases you so that he can get out of bed. “We are not teenagers anymore. There’s no reason to hide,” he tells you, though neither of you can deny that the playful joy you both exude is anything other than childlike.

You finally sit up in bed, pulling the duvet cover off of your legs. You watch him as he pulls on a pair of jeans over his boxers, then opens a drawer to find a shirt. Shaking your head, you pick up your abandoned pillow and throw it at him. “At least you can put on fresh clothes.”

Javier straightens up as the pillow hits his back, and he turns to face you again, two clean shirts in hand. He tosses you the plain white t-shirt and keeps the dark blue button-down for himself, shaking his head back at you. “Now when have I ever made you walk downstairs in a wrinkly shirt?”

Your smile softens as you hold the shirt close to your chest, breathing in the smell of laundry detergent and a lingering hint of Javi. It first fills your lungs and then sends a wave of calm through the rest of your body. Even after so many years, he still smells like home.

“Never,” you finally concede. You stand then, quickly getting yourself dressed and making your hair presentable so that the two of you can face Chucho together.

Once you’re ready, Javier gently runs a thumb across your forehead, smoothing out the worry lines that have taken form there. His fingers lightly trail down your face from there, and as he caresses your jaw, he leans in for another soft kiss to your lips. “You think too much, mi corazón. Always have,” he murmurs lowly.

“I know. I know,” you reply, reaching up and circling your arms around his neck. “But I can’t help it.”

“I know,” Javier echoes, eyes gazing fondly into yours, “It’s the writer in you.”

“I think it’s actually called overthinking, but sure. We’ll go with that instead,” you quip, grinning up at him.

Javier carefully separates from you then, his hand moving to rest on your lower back as he turns to lead you out of the room. “Come on. Papá is probably wondering what’s taking so long.”

You nod and walk with him out of the bedroom and down the stairs. In truth, you know that there is nothing to be anxious about when it comes to Chucho. The gentle old man wouldn’t hurt a fly, much less be cross with you. Besides, you’d seen it in his eyes when you spoke with him at Danny’s wedding: Chucho still held hope in his heart of gold that everything would work out between you and his son. He’d believed in the two of you, and you couldn’t remember off the top of your head the last time he had been wrong about something so important as this.

As you and Javier enter the kitchen, you find Chucho sitting at the table with the newspaper in his hand. He lifts his head to look at you both, and a gentle, fatherly smile lifts his lips. “I was wondering when you kids would be up. I was beginning to think you might miss breakfast,” he says, and his words immediately have you smiling too. Just as Javier had said, there had been nothing to worry about. You had slipped back into your place in the Peñas’ lives with such ease that it was like nothing had ever happened.

“Good morning, Papá,” you reply, the words coming with such ease, much in the way they always do around the family patriarch. You take a seat beside him. Javier follows suit, sitting in his usual chair across from his father.

“Good morning, mijita. It’s good to have you home,” Chucho says. He folds the paper up again and lays it on the table in front of him, his gaze shifting between you and Javier for a moment. You feel Javier’s warm hand wrap around yours a second later, and when you turn to look at him, you find that he’s smiling in agreement with his father. More than that, his eyes are shining with the gleam of “I told you so,” just enough for you to see.

“I’m glad to be home too,” you tell both of them softly, but you can’t seem to tear your eyes from Javier’s. Saying the words out loud makes this real. You’re no longer stuck dreaming of the life that you and Javier should have had together. You get to live it again. Ten years late, sure. But as Pops would say, better late than never.

Chucho hums in approval, and that breaks you out of your reverie. You and Javier both look back over at the old man. “What can we do to help with breakfast, Pop?” Javier asks.

He lets out a breath through the nose at Javier’s question, thinking to himself for a moment. “I can handle the stove work. Why don’t the two of you get the coffee going and set the table?”

“Done,” you reply, letting go of Javier’s hand and standing from your chair.

“I’ll get the dishes after we’re done, too,” Javier says, following you as you get up. But the second he has the chance, he grabs ahold of your hand again.

Unbeknownst to the two of you, Chucho takes a moment to sit and watch you both. Before getting up from his chair to start frying up the bacon and eggs, he lets out a small, contented sigh. Seeing the two of you together again puts his heart to rest. He’s spent years wondering if time truly could heal the wounds that had been inflicted on both of you. And now, he’s finally seeing that it can.

—

You make a quiet exit after breakfast is done and the dishes are cleaned and dry. Javier walks you all the way out to your car and doesn’t let go of you until he has to. Though he knows that things are different now, that the two of you are finally on your way to the life he’s wanted to live with you so badly, he can’t seem to shake the feeling that soon, the other shoe will fall. Surely it can’t have been so easy that everything would fall back into place after one night.

As you drive down the dirt road back to your apartment, and even after you’ve gone from his eyeshot, he stands there waiting to name the shrouded culprit of the tightness in his chest. It had been easier when he had you close to him. With you in his arms, he could believe that everything would be alright. He could do exactly what his father had told him to do: build the fence back up stronger than it had ever been before. And yet now that you’ve gone, even just down the road to your apartment, it seems there may be another storm that hits before he has the chance.

He’s not sure how much time passes before he finally turns around and goes back into the house, but still he can’t cast off this sense of despair that has taken over him. There’s something there. He knows there is, but it just won’t come to him. It’s following close behind him, a malignant spirit breathing cold down his neck and waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Javier decides that the best thing he can do for himself is take a shower and figure out for himself what the next step will be. So long as he can keep putting one foot in front of the other, then perhaps he can outrun whatever might try to take you from him again.

Javier’s almost reached the stairs before he hears his father’s voice again.

“Does this mean you are not going back to Colombia, mijo?”

The question stops Javier cold in his tracks. Suddenly, every nerve in his body is shot: numb and electric all at once. That tightness in his chest squeezes him like a vice, forcing the air out of his lungs.

Cali.

Slowly, Javier brings himself to turn around and face his father. The old man stands in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, and Javier is forced to watch as the hopeful glint in his eyes goes out. It gives way for the grave, remorseful expression that his father always seems to wear when Colombia is mentioned. It leaves him at a loss for words. He can’t keep a single thought straight in his mind.

Chucho’s lips turn down into a deep frown. “Si vas a dejarla otra vez, tienes que decírselo.”

Javier takes in as deep a breath as his body will allow, but releases it just as fast. His lungs are tight and unforgiving, burning with the effort of trying to keep his breathing slow and steady. There’s not enough air.

He plants his hands firmly on his hips, looking down at the ground as if somehow he’d find the right words etched into the hardwood. The silence is excruciating.

“No le harás esto de nuevo,” his father continues. Javier lets out a noise of agitation.

“Sí, Papá,” he says, finding his voice again. “Lo sé.”

“Javier,” Chucho says with a new sense of conviction. Just the way his father says his name sends another strike of pain through his chest. The old man doesn’t hesitate long. “You don’t have to go. This is a perfect reason for you to stay,” he says, “You will never get another chance with her. Are you ready to let her go? Is that something that you’re prepared to do?”

Javier’s head snaps up so that he can meet his father’s eyes again. “Dad, I can’t drag her into this! Not when she could end up dead. Why the hell do you think I left her the first time?” Every inch of his skin feels like it’s been set aflame as he gives in to anger and frustration. He knows that he shouldn’t be upset with his father, not when all he wants is for him to be happy with you. But Chucho has a way of making things seem much simpler than they really are. Nothing about this, about having to leave you again the moment he gets you back, is simple.

“You should have stayed then too,” his father replies. Simple. As if Javier hadn’t nearly torn himself in half contemplating the choice between you and Escobar. What he saw and did in Colombia certainly were not the first things to take pieces of him.

“The DEA needed me. What was I supposed to do? Tell the government to fuck off so I could live happily ever after?” Javier retorts, throwing an arm out to his side and taking a step towards his father.

Chucho sighs. “No one would have thought any less of you if you had. No tenías que huir y ser un héroe. No cuando tenías una vida aquí.”

“No,” Javier says definitively, his expression suddenly stone cold. “No soy un héroe.”

“Eres el único que cree eso, Javier.” There’s a sadness in the old man’s eyes as he says the words, but his tone is still firm and unrelenting. The ability to survive in a standoff like this is something that Javier knows he inherited directly from his father. If they let it, this argument could go on for hours without either one giving. It was a matter of pride, though Javier knew you preferred to just call them both bull-headed.

“No sabes lo que he hecho,” Javier bites back, but then he hesitates, decides to hold his tongue. He has to stop himself from going on. The last thing he wants is to rehash and relive all of the terrible things that happened during the hunt for Escobar. It would only break his father’s heart more, and he couldn’t do that. It didn’t matter how angry he was or how much he needed his father to see things from his perspective. Javier would not fight back at his father’s expense. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. I have to go after Cali. I can’t take her with me. That’s the end of it.”

It’s clear in his eyes that Chucho can sense Javier standing down, and so he does the same. “Please, son. I can’t bear to see what that place has done to you.”

“It’s done, Papá. It’s too late,” he says. It brings the pain back to his chest to disappoint his father this way, but he knows that he cannot back out now. He’s already made the commitment to go after the next cartel of narcos. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he turned his back on his duty now.

There’s a silence. Javier watches his father closely, waiting for the old man’s next words. They’re surely to be some kind of Hail Mary, a last-ditch attempt to get him to surrender.

“This is not the life that I wanted for you. This is not the life your mother wanted for you.”

There it is.

But at the mention of his mother, Javier tenses again, shaking his head and pointing his finger at his father’s chest. “Do not bring Mamá into this. I am going back to Colombia at the end of the month. Tengo que terminar lo que empecé.”

With the last word, Javier turns his back and marches up the stairs. Chucho doesn’t say anything more, just lowers his head and cradles his forehead in his hand. A door slams, hard enough to shake the house, and the old man knows that he’s lost.

Again.

—

As you drive away from the Peña ranch, you’re glad that you’ve got a seatbelt on. You swear that if you didn’t, you’d float right out of your seat. You feel truly weightless at finally reuniting with Javier, truly reuniting with him in a way that made the last ten years feel like a forgotten nightmare. The more you try to remember the way it hurt, the less you can recall. It’s a level of bliss that you swore that you would never feel again, and yet here you are.

You spend the short drive on cloud nine, though your apartment is a welcome sight when you reach it. Happy as you are, you are not beyond the need to freshen up. Stepping out of your car, you take in a deep breath of what you think will be fresh air, but you have to laugh at yourself just a second later. The midsummer Texas heat is not nearly as refreshing as you had anticipated in your euphoric state of mind.

You shake your head at yourself and step inside your apartment. It takes a moment to shake the odd feeling of being there when you don’t have to be. For years, this apartment has served as your personal fortress of solitude, a place that you return to when you have no other choice. And now, for the first time since Javier left, you’re confronted with the very real possibility that you won’t be living here alone for much longer.

That thought makes you stop in the entryway. You have to wonder what the next steps are going to be for you and Javier now that you’ve set forth to make things right. There’s part of you that desperately wants to dive headfirst into the life that you should have started with him a decade ago, but rationality quickly comes to dampen that dream. You know that it’s going to take time for the two of you to get to a place that resembles the relationship you had when you were younger. You know that it’s not something that you should rush either. This is a precious second chance that you can’t afford to screw up.

You let out a long exhale. Suddenly the thought occurs to you that you should perhaps call your mother to tell her what’s happened.

Maybe later.

You turn instead to go down the hall and take a quick shower. Just as you pass the living room though, something catches your eye. You stop, then take a couple of steps back. Your eyes briefly scan the room to find the source of the blinking light; There’s a red light on your answering machine.

Curious, you abandon the task of showering for another few minutes, opting instead to see whose call you had missed. It’s not very often that you get calls on the landline to begin with. More than likely though, it was your mother, perhaps a neighbor that had seen you in town and called to check in.

You press the button on the machine to go through your messages. There’s a long, monotonous beep.

“Hello, this is Felicia Bailey with Dawes Publishing House. I was calling to let you know that we have read your novel pitch for Heart of Glass and would like to negotiate a publishing contract with the opportunity to do some book signings and local readings here in New York. We’d like to have you here within the next week or so to go over the manuscript with one of our editors and get started with the paperwork. Please call us back as soon as you can at…”

You don’t hear anything past that, not clearly anyway. The rest of the message plays through, but it feels like you’re underwater. Your fingers tingle in shock. Your heart is pounding in your ears.

The answering machine beeps again, signaling the end of your messages.

A short, hard breath finally pushes its way out of your lungs, and you find that all you can do is look around your living room as you try to process what you’ve just heard. Except it doesn’t take long for your vision to blur with happy tears. Finally, after years and years of trying to sell this novel, you’ve gotten the call, the call that you swore that you’d never get. You’ve received so many rejections, written, spoken, and silent. You’ve spent so many years bouncing from city to city, praying that someone would find just enough interest in the story you had to tell to give you a chance. All you needed was a chance to prove that you have what it takes to capture an audience with your art.

You’ve suffered so many rejections that you’d contemplated scrapping the entire manuscript and starting with a fresh idea. But you hadn’t been able to write anything for a long time. This story had been born of your pain, had been an oasis in the middle of the biggest drought of your life. It’s not your best work and you know that. But nothing else would come to you. In your drought, there was no sign of rain, and running into Javier again had put an even bigger halt on things.

Javier.

You jump up from where you’d taken a seat on your couch, letting out a triumphant laugh. He was going to be thrilled once you got a chance to tell him. Suddenly every nerve vibrated with the need to call him and tell him right that second, but you knew it would be much more fun to tell him in person. All your life, Javier had been the one to always be in your corner when it came to your writing. Your parents, though they’ve tried to be as supportive as possible, have always been a little wary of the fact that your novels have not been the source of steady income. But Javier, before he’d left, had been the one to constantly tell you that someday, you’d make it. And now you have.

He needed to be the first to know.

-

Spanish Translations

“Si vas a dejarla otra vez, tienes que decírselo.” - "If you’re going to leave her again, you have to tell her."

“No le harás esto de nuevo.” - "You won’t do this to her again."

“Sí, Papá. Lo sé.” - “Yes, Dad. I know.”

“No tenías que huir y ser un héroe. No cuando tenías una vida aquí.” - "You didn’t have to run away and be a hero. Not when you had a life here."

“No soy un héroe.” - “I am not a hero.”

“Eres el único que cree eso, Javier.” - "You’re the only one who believes that, Javier."

“No sabes lo que he hecho.” - "You don’t know what I’ve done."

“Tengo que terminar lo que empecé.” - "I have to finish what I started."

-

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#javier peña #narcos #narcos colombia #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader

[ljgrace9]

Alberto Guerra being onboarded as my new celebrity husband🫦💋

#damn he's hot #like a fine wine #Griselda #alberto guerra #netflix #narcos #colombia #vs #mexico #cuba

[kaira-diaries]

The Colonel’s Sister:

Note: one shot is also available on Wattpad under my account Kairadiaries for those who prefer it.

Warning: smut / fluff / language / wounds / blood

Pairing: Javi x f!character

Summary: she's Carrillo's sister, and off limits, until Javier thinks otherwise.

••••

My brother's lesson consisted of standing in the blistering heat for hours with my hands rolled into fists, bruised from a punching bag. Throughout it, he silently critiqued my form and stood with his arms crossed in authority. One two, I counted to memorize his instructions on the combos he was reluctant to share with me.

I made the mistake of asking if he'd caught Escobar yet. The answer was no, as the anger erupted between his clenched teeth. My older brother scowled at me the way he would as the colonel of the DEA. I still remember the day he was promoted to the job. Mama had been crying and squeezing him in hugs tighter than he could handle. My fingers poked at his uniform as I laughed at how ridiculous he looked, but he always made it a point to educate me on what an honor it was to become a colonel. He wears that same uniform now with no detectable expressions on his face. I rolled my eyes and limped over to the nearest chair I could find.

"Tell me something, Horacio. You look like a knob just standing there." I snickered. Knob. I'd just learned that word yesterday at the embassy.

I lick the sweat from my upper lip and empty the rest of my water bottle. He exhaled through his nose and went to open his mouth, but his wristwatch chimed. 8:00. I had guessed. Hours at the embassy were flat-out exhausting. Though, I'm only a receptionist. Despite rising at such early hours for my brother's lessons, it still hasn't gotten any easier.

"We should go." He said and disappeared into the apartment.

***

I hadn't gotten many calls today, and it was exhilarating.

Flipping to the next page of my novel, I sip on some much-needed coffee. It burns my tongue, and I groan at the burning sensation.

"You still haven't learned, huh?" I turn my head to find Murphy. He holds an orange folder stuffed with papers.

With a lopsided grin, I say, "I guess not."

He trades with me. I now have the nightmare of a folder, and he sips from the coffee mug. "What's Peña up to?" I ask, and he raises a suspicious brow. Exhaling through his mouth, he said

"Oh, you know, out, gathering information." His scrunched mouth confirms the worse. "How does the colonel feel about that?" I pick up the nearest pen and tap it against the desk. A shrug was all he gave.

"I don't know, you tell me? He's your brother." Horacio knows damn well what Peña has been up to but doesn't care to act on it. I've even called him on it, seeing it unfit to allow an agent to sleep around for information. I shrugged back when the double doors flew open to reveal peña. It was an effort not to roll my eyes at his appearance. The chocolate brown hair on his head was ruffled to hell, along with the wrinkled mess that was his maroon shirt. I leaned back in my seat.

"Jesus, you can't keep it in your pants, can you?" Peña unveiled a devious smirk and threw it in my direction.

"If it gets us what we need and keeps me young." I swallowed in disgust, and Murphy patted him on the shoulder. My brows raised, and I scoffed, standing from the chair to file the folder Murphy had given me. Checking the clock on my desk, my heart excites at quitting time.

My brother had promised to bring back my favorite allergy free dessert from his business trip today. I could already taste the sweetness as I smiled and grabbed my purse.

Tuning in to the boy's conversation, Peña was in the middle of sharing his recent sexual activity with yet another woman. I mimicked a vomit sound and pushed my way between them. "You're a pig." I spat and strolled out the doors, thinking that was the end of it.

My heels hit the concrete of the sidewalk when he stepped beside me. I gasped, jumping back. "That was quite the insult." He intercepted me.

I pulled my purse closer to me. "You have no sense of self-control or respect." I grab my car keys and unlock the doors, circling him. "You're wrong." He disagrees.

"I have a lot more than you think I do." With that, his eyes darken, and his jaw clenches. I feel trapped between him and my car as a hand reaches up to stroke my glossed, pouty lips. Lucky for me, I break from the trance and shove him back.

"I'd suggest Lisa as your new subject for your kinky fuckery. I heard she likes to sleep around." I threw myself into my car and sped off, leaving him there and not looking back.

***

I laid in bed that night, stomach full of the yummy dessert my brother had gotten me, and thought of Peña. My lips still stung from the lingering kiss of his fingers, and I had wondered why he'd done it.

It's no secret that the man is handsome, with strength in his appearance and confidence in his tone. He was the golden boy of the embassy and sought after by women of all ages and wanted for jobs by other businesses, despite how..flawed his tactics were. I'd asked him why he never took the better offers, but he only shrugged the question off his shoulders. I stopped believing the dismissive answers when I saw his clenched fists and frigid breaths. There was a reason; he was just so reluctant to tell me or anyone.

Blowing a caramel strand of hair from my face, I sit up, having an idea.

An hour later, I sat in a nightclub. Drinks and laughter filled every corner with gleaming happiness as I smiled at the sight of the glowing strangers that'd find love on the dance floor. A tinge of jealousy stabbed at my chest, and I sipped down the rest of my drink.

I hadn't registered the movement of my legs that carried me onto the dance floor and into the arms of a tall and handsome stranger. The red dress I had chosen tightened as my breaths increased once we set the pace. The man's eyes were blue, his hair black and long. I crumbled into his arms as his hands seduced my body. It was like electricity that had brought my limbs to life once the song's climax started.

But once the song had ended, my happiness ended with it.

In a second, the man was violently shoved in the opposite direction...by Peña, who had a melody of rage and jealousy in his eyes. The stranger recovered, but the strength of Peña's shove was enough for him to get the message as he disappeared across the club. "What the fuck are you doing here!" I yelled.

"Yeah, in this situation, you're not allowed to ask that question." He yelled back. Before I could open my mouth to question him on what 'situation', he pulled me in to talk into my ear.

"Carrillo called me once he'd figured out you went on a field trip." I screeched and shoved him back. "Fuck off." I scolded and ran off.

I wrapped my jacket around myself and slid my arms over my chest to draw less attention as I walked home. "Get in the car." I halted to find Peña's car. I snap my chin in his direction.

"Don't you have some bitch to fuck?" I bite.

"Not until Tuesday." He smirks. I could almost read his mind as it said,

Play with me.

I'd do no such thing as I started walking once more.

He drives alongside me. "Are you going to walk five miles? Just get in the damn car; that's insane." I scoff.

"No, you're insane." I countered.

"I don't recall asking for your opinion, querida." I rolled my eyes at the name and kicked off my heels to carry them.

"Someone needs to keep you and your inflated ego in check." My feet begin to ache, and he chuckles.

"Then I'm glad it's a young twenty-four-year-old like you, now get in the car; I'm wasting gas." I considered it for a minute until I had no choice as a shard of glass punctured the arch of my foot. I cursed and hit the ground like a coward, making Javi stop the car and speed to my side. "Don't touch me." I cringed when a hand grazed my shoulder. "Fine. Stand on your own, but we need to remove the glass." He plainly said.

Planting my hands, I push up with my arms but accidentally put pressure on my foot.

A sharp pain runs through my foot as I cry and nearly hit the ground again until he's there to catch me. Peña reassures me that he's got me, but his calloused hands linger on my bicep. His raised brows make me chuckle through the pain. "What? Were you expecting skin and bone?"

***

We ended up at his apartment.

Something about it being closer than mine.

I sit on the toilet seat with my foot elevated on the edge of the tub.

Peña curses as he digs for the medical supplies underneath his sink. He eventually finds the kit hidden behind a new bottle of body wash. "Ah, here it is." He gleams and disappears into the kitchen and returns with a bottle of titos vodka. I squirm and pull the bottom of my dress down, afraid of showing too much.

"It's best if you don't tell your brother about this." He comments, pulling out a bandaid to cover the soon-to-be-open wound once the glass is removed. "Why? You're just dressing a wound?" I asked, genuinely confused, and he shrugged.

"Carrillo is the colonel, and if he hears of you and me at the club, I'll be sacked."

My brows pinched together, and his rose.

"But..you said he sent you?"

My lips part. If Horacio didn't send him, then why was he there?

Peña remains silent and pulls out a pair of tweezers, and I bite my lip. "Will it hurt?" Fear travels up my spine as he looks at me with softened eyes. "Only a little." I release a breath from my nose and nod for him to continue. I yelped at the intense pinch of the withdrawal of glass and the burn of the alcohol to clean the wound. My hand reaches to grab for something to hold until the pain passes, and that something was accidentally Peña's free hand.

He allows it and laces his fingers with mine. I'm in too much pain to bat him away and embrace the warm and rough feeling of his touch.

Groaning through the pain, I ask him.

"What were you doing at the club?" I hiss at the burn as he thoroughly cleans it. Once the blood is wiped clean, he covers the wound with a bandaid. "Keeping an eye on you." He responds.

"Why?" I asked, quicker than I had intended, and he took a deep breath. "Because that man wanted to fuck you." I folded my arms over my chest. "So? Maybe I wanted to fuck him?" He throws the kit back in the cabinet under the sink and takes a mouth full of vodka.

"Don't say shit like that." He groans in annoyance. I lean forward to get in his face.

"I'll fuck who I want, Peña; it's none of your business, nor is it your place to interfere." He stands from the edge of the tub, laughing.

"You're such a hypocrite, Carrillo. So I'm not allowed to fuck anybody, but you can spread your legs, and it's all kumbaya?"

I stand, relying on my left foot. "Are you serious?" I asked.

He raises the bottle for another drink. "Do I look serious?"

I shake my head. "No, you look like a fucking imbecile."

As soon as it left my mouth, I knew I was in trouble when he pinned me between his intimidating figure and the bathroom sink.

"Such a dirty mouth." He cooed and licked his lips before pressing them to mine for a peck. I froze from what he had done, and he leaned in again for a deepened kiss. My lips widened as his tongue dipped into my mouth. Fuck. I hadn't known I wanted this, and fuck did he know.

He grabs my waist to spin me around. Facing the mirror, his fingers diligently travel to undo my dress and take ownership of my panties. We both knew damn well what was going to happen, but what I hadn't known was what he was thinking, and for some reason, I wanted to.

Leaning back into his chest, I offer my neck as he leaves hungry bites that'd last for a week.

As if he read my mind, he says,

"I think that whenever I'm around you, I feel like I'm worth more."

The clink of his belt brings me to life as he continues,

"I think...I want to bend you over and brand you as mine." A soft moan drags from my lips. He's concrete against my backside when I'm bent over.

He gathers my hair in his fist, and I prepare for what's to come.

"I'm thinking..you've been wanting this for a long time." He whispered in my ear and, in one thrust, filled me until he leveled out. I'd never felt so complete as he tried to wiggle closer. I welcomed him, wanting his skin pressed tighter against mine. The pain in my foot stung, but I shoved it aside as the feeling electrified my body.

"Fuck." He barked, and I arched back into him until his other arm pinned down my body. The thrusts were slow as he was pacing himself, but I wanted more.

"Stop being withholding." I groaned, and he chuckled.

"What do you need?" He rasped. "Fuck, you want more?" I nodded in the mirror, but his movements stopped. "I need words, baby doll."

"Give me more." I cried against the cold granite top. My chest was freezing, and his thrusts were coming in faster than I could take them.

My hips were bruising from his impact as I crumbled beneath his fingertips. He groaned in satisfaction from above and collapsed into my back. Turning my head, we share our breaths and come down together.

"Don't tell my brother," I whispered, and together we breathlessly chuckled.

#pedro pascal #lovers #fanfic #javier peña #agent peña #narcos #fluff and smutt #colombia #angst #wanting #enemies to lovers

[mf-st4rb0y]

💛♥️

#wagner moura #juan pablo raba #narcos #pablo escobar #gustavo gaviria #colombia #el patron #netflix narcos #primo #plata o plomo

[emofairyprincessofarkansas]

Joel telling Ellie to put the gun in her backpack instead of her waistband…

Is this not the same man who would shove his gun in his pants in Narcos?

#ellie williams #joel miller #pedro pascal #hbo the last of us #javier peña #narcos: colombia

[xunaeden]

#narcos #steve murphy #boyd holbrook #javier pena #pedro pascal #netflix #80s #colombia

[ilovejavierpena]

#narcos #pedro pascal #javier peña #they are in Colombia #how could Steven make bad Colombian coffee? #Steven is special

[cositapreciosa]

Meeting Chepe in New York and him bring you back to Cali for a party/meeting the rest of the gang 👀

Red lipstick

Chepe Santacruz x female!reader (infidelity/cheating, mention of Y/N, mention of drug use, the usual for the show), 3679 words

a/n : - Yo Élise, where were you all this time? Were you dead?

- *cue to picture of that dry-ass taxidermy fox* seasonal depression my dude

As always it's the fictional, not the real deal, enjoy xx

You can see it as a business meeting, an opportunity for you to go bigger.

That is what Chepe had said to you one day as you met him for your usual drop. Offering you a trip to Colombia, to meet the big ones from overseas, those that completed his inner circle. You had been reselling for him for a few years now, never once coming to a dollar short and definitely ranking in the profit. Probably the best card you got in your deck, Santacruz, am I not?

You never were looking to make it big in this type of business. Selling just enough to be sure to stay afloat, pay your mortgage, feed the people you love, and buy those pieces of jewelry, that a year ago would have been for you a rent’s worth, just because you liked how they shined when you passed the counter display. Greed, envy, lust. It had crawled in your veins fast, venomous, pumping in your blood. Still, just enough to always buy your favorite, to-die-for, 90$ red lipstick every time it ran out, but never enough to get cocky, stupid, reckless.

You loved luxury, lived in it, smelled like it, but you always remembered how red your blood was, how easy it could be spilled. You saw the way the government was knocking more and more doors down, came for the smaller ones before fishing for the big sharks, but all the others didn’t. It’s a war, sweetheart, Chepe had called it, a war on drugs. Teeth filled with gold, snorting all types of white powders, guns-a-blazing, cuffed and judged by justice just as fast. There’s a quiet side to riches that those men never understood. It was what had separated you from the others who had climbed the ranks with you over the years, you had realized. Maybe that’s why you are here today, setting foot down a jet on Colombian soil, or maybe it was just the start of the hardest fall of your life.

As you looked at your shoes, already full of dust, you wondered if there was a time you had ever seen so much dirt on a landing strip before. You don’t have much time to think about it or to worry about the wind pushing your hair or the dirt in your mouth, that Chepe is already in front of you, arms wide open,

‘’ Bienvenido en la capital mundial de la salsa, sweetheart. ‘’

Your smile is bright, pulling at your cheeks, lips painted red, welcoming. A deadly trap. Chepe knows all of this, the facade that goes in the character you play. The survival instinct, the street smart. You made it this far didn’t you?

‘’ Well, I’m more of a bachata dancer myself, but I can make salsa work. ‘’

You had fucked him once. When his wife had been away, doing whatever she did when she went on those trips of hers. All teeth, handfuls of flesh, bent over the balcony. Maybe it had been more than once. Maybe you didn’t feel so bad because you knew she most likely did the same when she claimed she was going on shopping trips with friends. You could always tell with those women for some reason, you could see it in their eyes, it wasn’t hard to miss. You could see it in his too, how he had always known. If he cared or not was still the missing piece.

You take his extended hand to jump off the last step. The heat is heavy, weirdly humid, and dry at the same time. Still, his hand is steady, not a bead of sweat on his forehead, his usually heavy coat switched for a striped shirt. Colombiano born and raised. You did tell him stripes looked good on him once.

This is it, you thought, no turning back, the top of the ladder. The top of the food chain. You just have to shake hands and smile.

.

The ride to civilization had been bumpy, long, and trying your best to understand your driver with the thickest Costeño accent you had ever heard. A fair price to pay for landing on an illegal dirt patch in the middle of a Colombian jungle.

Chepe had left you with his driver and a bodyguard back at the landing field, slipping you in the passenger seat, making sure your hair didn’t get stuck in the door as he closed it,

‘’ I trust those two with my life. I’ll pick you up at the hotel tommorow ? ‘’

All teeth, handfuls of flesh, bent over the balcony.

‘’ How else am I supposed to empty the mini-bar then? ‘’

Hands gripping your waist, pining you against the shower wall.

It's later that day after he's been gone for hours and your lipstick has been reapplied, that he calls your room phone. You press your lips together, spreading the color evenly, as it rings some more. You take your finger up to your mouth, swiping the excess stain with your nail. Done. Your heels click on the marble floors on your way out of the bathroom,

‘’ Miss me already? ‘’

It's a party, he had said, near the water, you’ll love it.

He scoffs, as you disconnected the call. The more 6 o’clock gets near, the more all of your being screams at you to leave, clawing at your mind to run, not to look back. You know you should, that he would let you call it off and go back home. But the more you want it, the more you itch to open the safe where your passport is locked, and the more you realize you can’t.

You won’t.

The ride over there is less bumping than when you first got here. Jetlag is busting your ass, and your concealer is working hard to keep it unnoticed. Chepe is dressed up for the occasion as always. Chains, gold rings, a nice striped long-sleeved shirt. Maybe you’ll take all of it off tonight.

He’s driving this time, one hand on the wheel, the other on your thigh. You’re not sure if you like how familiar the move feels. Domestic. Wrong and right at the same time.

‘’ If this is about my wife, ‘’ he had said, with his arms around you, his chin in your hair, ‘’ I’ll leave her. ‘’

You had mentioned stopping everything when he had dropped by earlier. If I actually do this and meet them, I don’t think I can keep fucking you if I want to be taken seriously. Panic clawing at your chest, the reality of your work, the constant threats. There was no way for this to end well for you. For him.

‘’ Ask me and I’ll do it. I’ll call her right now. ‘’

He smelled like cigar and cologne, his palms sneaking under your shirt, warm on your stomach, soft, grounding,

‘’ This is not about her, ‘’ you had explained, head falling on his shoulder as he nuzzled into your neck, ‘’ This is about me, Chepe. About my work. Credibility. ‘’

His other hand pulled at your skirt, feeling the lace underneath. He molds you to him, unbelievably closer now. You felt him shiver against you, felt his breath behind your ear, the goosebump on your arms,

‘’ Tell me, ‘’ he had started with a groan, bringing the material over your waist, his other hand gently wrapping around your throat,

‘’ Tell me whoever dares, and I’ll make sure myself they never speak again. ‘’

You don’t doubt his words for a second.

The automatic light illuminates the garage as soon as Chepe drives the car in. You’ve never seen a garage this big. Cars lined up left to right, every one of them shinier than the other. What a waste of space.

He maneuvers his between two bright red-looking expensive ones. His toothpick rolls on his lips, leaning back against his seat, one hand on the wheel, as he changes gears. He couldn’t care less if he scratched one. Pocket change.

‘’ I probably should have stayed in my room and gotten another 8 hours of sleep. ‘’

He laughs, hearty, loud, deep, as if you’ve just told him the funniest joke of the night. His thumb rubs your thigh,

‘’ Are you going to stand me up? At your own party? ‘’

His attempt at lightening up the mood. In a way, it does, pushing your insecurities and anxieties to the side for a second. He can tell you hesitate, putting off the moment you step out of the car and have to do the grown-up illegal things you have gotten yourself into. You’re not that tired, caffeinated for two, and ready to throw punches if needed. Not that you would have to, with Chepe hot on your heels wherever you go, but it feels like it could calm you down, give you back some control maybe,

‘’ Oh, you’d do just fine I am sure. ‘’ you try to smile back.

You stay silent for a while, more like seconds really, but it feels relaxing and comforting. His hand is still warm on your skin. You always appreciated how he could understand those moments, never feeling like he had to fill it with words.

His thumb presses slightly on the inside of your thigh, bringing your attention back to him. It is darker now in the car, the automatic light having shut off seconds ago,

‘’ I wish I could introduce you as mine. ‘’

You can make out his side profile, the way his fingers drum on the wheel. You sigh,

‘’ José- ‘’

‘’ Ya, por favor, ‘’ he pleads, annoyed, ‘’ You always do this. ‘’

His hand comes up to scratch his stubble, moving down to where his neck meets his shoulder. He massages the skin, before his arm drops, defeated. Chepe moves in his seat, knees turning slightly to your side of the car. He leans toward you and you don’t understand why you feel nervous all of sudden. Anxious.

Homesick.

‘’ I know you think I’m not genuine. That I’m only saying this to make you happy. ‘’

For the first time in months, you don’t know what to say. He is right. Absolutely and utterly right. You don’t believe him when he says it. When he promises you travels, family parties, a career, a ring. You don’t believe easily, and you know what happens to the other women who naively listen and nod. You have seen it happen time and time again.

You sigh, falling back into your seat, trying to disappear inside the leather behind your back,

‘’ I like you a lot, Chepe. ‘’

You sigh, you don’t know where you are going with this. You can’t seem to be thinking ahead, about what you should say or not. Weirdly enough, in one of the most dangerous countries in the world, in an unknown garage, in a village you have forgotten the name of already, next to him, you feel safe. You don’t feel like you should tiptoe around his feelings, yours for that matter.

Your head rolls to the side to meet his gaze, your fingertips raising to touch his face. His brown eyes are on you, pupils blown from the darkness. Sharp nails follow his cheekbone softly, moving up to his freshly cut hair, pushing the loose grey strands back into place. His hand is on your wrist now, going up and down as he caresses the skin,

‘’ A lot. ‘’ you scoff, you realize.

So do I, he wants to say, Y yo a ti, his silence means. You want to lean in, break the space between you, kiss him, end this conversation and force him to bring you inside. You meet his eyes again as your nails roam behind his ear. You know he would let you, but here, today, you don’t think this is what you want,

‘’ We are being honest here, right? ‘’ he whispers, like a secret being shared between you two. You nod softly,

‘’ Talk to me. Tell me. ‘’ The truth, he means, how you really feel about this, ‘’ I’ve got all night. ‘’

You know he means it. Chepe would stay in this car all night if you decided to, he can tell how different the moment has gotten. Twenty minutes ago you would have laughed to tears, reapplied your lipstick, and gotten out of the car. The facade that goes in the character you play. He is still not sure what changed, but it makes him want you to be honest with him, to be true to what you know. Goosebumps spreads across your arm, following the warmth of his palm,

‘’ I want it. ‘’ you begin, toes wiggling inside your heel, trying to keep your knee from bouncing, ‘’ When you say you want to introduce me as yours. ‘’

It takes all his being not to surge forward to take your face between his hands. Then let me, let me. Your breath comes out shaky when you exhale as if you had been holding it for the last minute,

‘’ I am being honest, ‘’ you reassured, he knows you are. You had had deep conversations with Chepe before, nights spent sitting on your balcony, smoking and talking about life and all the things in between. His past, yours. Colombia, New York. Your hand falls to his neck, gently stroking his stubble with your thumb. It’s rough and it’s keeping you grounded, in the car, with him,

‘’ I wouldn’t mind if you did. ‘’ you admit, ‘’ I’d let you. ‘’

You don’t feel weak for telling him like you thought you would. Chepe brings your palm to his mouth, kissing the skin softly. Saying anything else would ruin the moment, and you are thankful he stays silent again. You can hear the music inside, voices laughing and screaming behind the closed door, and you know it is time for you to go and join the crowd. Do what you came here to do in the first place.

You lean between the seats, the cup holder pushing painfully against your ribs, and your hand falls from his lips as you rest your head against his shoulder. His shirt is coarse on your cheek and his fingers soft when he intertwines them with yours. Your thumbnail traces shapes on the back of his hand while you speak again,

‘’ I don’t think I’ve ever been this anxious in my whole life. ‘’

‘’ I wouldn’t have brought you here if I didn’t think you were up for it. ‘’

You hmm, and he can feel the sound vibrate through his shoulder,

‘’ It’s what you do back home, but here. Your Spanish is great, you’ll fit right in, mija. ‘’ he reassures,‘’ I’ll take care of you. ‘’

He emphasizes the words by gently squeezing your joint hands. You know he will, he always does. You know lots of things about him and that lying, to you at least, is not something he would do. We are being honest here, right? You reluctantly let him go, motioning to him to go ahead, body pulling away, your hand sliding back to your thigh. As he gets out of the car, the lights illuminate the garage again. Bright, blinding. Your eyes follow him around the hood of the car until he reaches your door, pulling it open,

‘’ Let’s do some work now, hm? ‘’

He presents his hand to you, his heart skipping a beat when you accept it, pressing yours against his while your swing your legs to the side to get out.

One step after the other, your heels click on the cement as you walk towards the door that leads inside the house. Breathe, smile, shake hands, repeat. Chepe’s hand reaches blindly for you behind him, and you grab it, just like he expects you to do. Blood is pumping in your ears, so loud that it is almost overtaking the music around you. This is exactly where you want to be, precisely what you planned. Inhale with the nose, and exhale through the mouth. It doesn’t come as fast as you would’ve liked, but slowly, air fills up your lungs. It is a weird feeling, really, how after only a few breaths you can feel your body tingle, calm and lightheaded. Revigorated. All part of the facade.

Your smile doesn’t falter when you meet the first few people, low associates, executants. It is bright, all white teeth and red lipstick. They make no comment, no sarcastic remarks about Chepe’s hand on your back, you let him lower it, let it curve around your waist. His eyes burning and threatening enough that no one dares to look for too long.

Your cheeks hurt, jaw a bit sore from speaking Spanish for the past hour, but the wine feels good and bitter down your throat, helping make those meetings bearable. Chepe is beaming, all laughs and handshakes, like a true socialite, a fish in water. You enjoy watching him more than you do partake in this whole thing. It is different for him here, and you can tell. You thought you would have been the last one arriving at the house, and as much as Chepe shuts down any remarks about the time you spent in the garage and as much as you pretend not to understand what they imply, you know words have already spread in the villa. Staying civilized in this jungle is harder than you would have thought.

It happens merely minutes after Chepe excuses himself to fill up your drink, the shift in the room. How everyone stands taller, pushes their shoulders back, sobering up. Whoever supplier Chepe left you with does not have eyes for you anymore. Here they are. The lions.

You see Pacho first, in the corner of your eye. You can tell it is him, from his silk shirt to his waxed brown shoes, from Chepe’s stories, there is no doubt in your mind. You have to bite first, you think, use this fake confidence to your advantage, and make this meeting yours. Your new wannabe-gangster friend had already abandoned you the second they entered the room. You have no choice but to stand your ground and stay tall too.

You force a smile on your cheeks as you turn to him, charming and warm. Pain and Chepe’s absence be damned. Pacho’s smile mirrors your own, like an old friend, a deadly trap. You like him already, you decide, not so different from you, you can tell. Cunning. Smart.

Your glass of wine is quickly put back in your hands, splashing around in the cup, as your man pushes at the guests around you to meet Pacho’s embrace with a laugh. They exchange quickly in Spanish, how are you doing, how’s the weather over there ? You let them catch up, soaking in how easily the moment flows, perfectly happy to stand on the sideline.

Chepe half turns to you, still going on to Pacho about this plane story of his that you have been waiting for the punchline for a while now. His hand finds your waist, absently bringing you closer to the two of them.

‘’ Hermano, ‘’ he begins, ‘’ Let me introduce you. ‘’

You don’t know what burns more, his warm fingers pressing gently into your skin or how Pacho’s eyes catch him doing it. You had agreed to this, but still, stares and looking eyes make you feel uncomfortable. He leads, you remind yourself, he knows, let him.

‘’ This is Y/N, ‘’ Chepe smiles, chest puffed out, proud, ‘’ My favorite partner in crime. ‘’

Pacho’s eyes are back on you, not on Chepe, not on his hand on your back. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. The air feels lighter, your fingers regain color around your glass. You let yourself fall back slightly into Chepe’s embrace, putting some of your weight on him. You share some stories about Pacho’s favorite clubs in New York, how you have to change entry port from now on after the last DEA bust, and how the margins are still going up even though.

‘’ You want another? ‘’ Chepe leans towards you, softly speaking the words in your ear, nodding to your empty cup,

‘’ I’d love that. ‘’ you say back, turning, nose almost catching his, ‘’ Maybe white this time, please? ‘’

‘’ Por supuesto, reina. ‘’

You don’t miss how Pacho’s eyes flicker back for a second on Chepe as he leaves. Pacho clears his throat, looking at you over his whiskey,

‘’ So, ‘’ he starts, ‘’ Favorite partner, favorite reina. ‘’

You nod, sending a smile his way, playful, trying to keep it civilized,

‘’ I’m his favorite lie detector too. I’m never wrong.‘’

Pacho laughs, thank god. He holds out his hand to you, and you put yours in his, giving it a nice shake,

‘’ You take care of him good? ‘’

His hand is firm in yours, he makes no move to withdraw, standing there, a step closer now. You get it then, why his handshake is so strong, why his eyes are sharp and serious, menacing. Brotherhood.

‘’ I do. ‘’ you stand your ground, hand unmoving, arm strong and chin up, ‘’ As he does to me. ‘’

He lets go of your hand as he turns to discard his drink, switching it for two champagne glasses that he swiftly takes from a nearby waiter,

‘’ Good. Good.‘’

You watch him look around, almost bored, unimpressed by all the festivities. Pacho takes a sip first, nodding in approval before holding up the second flute toward you for you to grab,

‘’ You know what I think, Y/N? ‘’

He smiles at you, knowing, sincere. He toasts the rim of his glass against yours, making a stream of bubbles burst from the bottom,

‘’ I think you and I will do great things around here. ‘’

#chepe x reader #chepe santacruz x reader #narcos fanfiction #narcos imagine #narcos colombia imagine #narcos imagines #a trip to France and half a school year later #almost sold my kidney for this one #enjoy

[firsttarotreader]

I never heard the story of the Colombian singer! What exactly happened there? I love how Pedro is so unabashed about his interest for people he likes.

This. Besides that, he also screamed “Marry me!” to her while she was singing.

And this is her video in Spanish:

#narcos #colombia #colombian singer

[pedropascal24-7]

Javier Pena as photos from around Colombia

#pedro pascal #javier pena #narcos era #colombia

[pascal-neruda-fan]

Javier Peña fan edit by me

#narcos #pedro pascal #pablo neruda #colombia #SoundCloud

[61185]

POV: you're colombian and watching national TV in the 80s-90s

#pablo escobar #narcos #war on drugs #colombia #latin american history #analog tv #flashing gif #tangentially related to this blog's topic

[kaira-diaries]

I was Never There:

Note: one shot is also available on Wattpad under my account Kairadiaries for those who prefer it.

Warning: death / violence / mention of smut / fluff / language

Pair: Javi x f!character

Summary: it's the height of the Escobar case and Javi just is never around. You're feeling a bit down and head to a club for the night with some friends. You flirt with a handsome stranger, not knowing the club you stood in was a narcos hotspot and Steve and Javi were about to raid it.

••••

The sun dawned on Medellin as I stretched my fatigued limbs, absorbing the warmth through the curtain drawn window. I held the thin cream colored sheet against my chest as I now looked to the empty side of the bed. Javi was gone most days, but made sure to leave a crumpled up note with the overwrought words I love you on my nightstand. I look at it now, tracing each messy letter, trying to find some truth in the sweet gesture.

Waking up alone is a bitter sweet feeling. I'd take Javi from Colombia if I could and keep him hidden from the travesties of someone else's responsibility, though, he's done more for this place than anybody else could ever challenge. Sometimes I feel selfish, for wanting him all to myself after three years of pillow talk. Surely I could compromise, right?

It's a question I'd take days to truthfully answer as the sheet rapped around my figure falls to the floor as I stand to get ready for the day, finding sanctuary in a distraction.

__

"Peppermint tea, what do you think?"

Connie, Steves wife, stands with a smile brighter than sunshine a few tea bags in hand with the baby in the other. The kitchen heats a usual degree as the spring air dances through the kitchen curtains. Connie always wished for a child, and I discover a sense of joy, watching her and the child fit like two puzzle pieces.

"Y/n?"

"Right, yeah, that sounds delectable." I snap out of it, reaching for a handheld fan across the table. The ceiling fan above revealed to be useless.

Connie flashes a sweet smile, handing the baby to me and turning back to mix the ice water with the tea bags.

"What's troubling you?" She challenged.

The baby played with my braided strands as I thought up a response.

"Troubling circumstances." I said, bouncing the giggling little girl on my lap.

The pitcher of iced tea sweats as Connie places it on the table, followed by two glasses. She reads with concern, as she pours me a glass. "Javier?" I only nod and continue.

"I feel so...isolated from him. Most nights, I'm asleep once he gets home and asleep when he sneaks out to the office in the morning. He doesn't even make love to me anymore. It just feels like sex. All I get are empty words scribbled carelessly in pen. I just..I don't know what I can do anymore."

"If I were you" She grabs my empty hand. "I'd go have fun. While you're young and still can." She adds that last part with a giggle and I find myself later that day pulling out of my closet my finest black corset sequin dress along with gaspingly high heels. I need some cheering up.

__

LUX

The three letters lit the street as they painted the picture of alcohol and techno music.

In the heart of Medellin there were clubs up and down the blocks with similar architecture, though Lux had been for the most prestigious guests, and its incredible what beauty can do for you in this town.

Batted eyelashes with doe eyes were what got us in as I sipped on my fifth glass of whiskey, the music vibrated through my skin. Javier had introduced the insatiable liquor to me and it became my favorite.

The time read midnight on my watch and I threw back the rest of my drink, pushing the spice down my esophagus. In need of the dance floor, I slide from my chair making my way into the intoxicated crowd. My girls from grad school were out here now, finding any type of dance partner they could to grind to the music with. I had giggled at Lisa, who threw a goofy smile and a wink in my direction. I had began to sway, sliding into beat with the music. The song was just about to reach its climax as two large hands took charge of my hips. My neck began to tickle from the whispering touches of a mustache and I leaned into it, taking refuge in the familiarity. My nose collided with the mans as I laid eyes on a handsome and stoic face. He gave a cheesy grin as our paced quickened, the climax just moments away.

That's when the first gunshot rung. Screams poisoned the air as my friends along with the rest of the crowd frantically took off towards the nearest exit and the music stopped as the club was raided with armed men. A single glimpse was all it took for me to realize... it was Javier's men and it took only another moment for all guns to be drawn and honed in on the man that stood behind me.

My legs took control as I threw myself forward to get away until a thick arm locked around my neck, the other around my waist.

I was being used as a human shield with no strength to break free and a pistol making purchase on my sweaty temple.

Like the red sea, the men surrounding us parted, making way for Javier and Steve whose jaw dropped at the sight of me. I would have shrugged my shoulders if I could, too drunk to register the danger I was in.

Of course, Javier normally read like a book.

He was panicked with a angsty expression in his eyes, no doubt, but also agitated at the sight of me not home and in bed. He had to school it, though, because whoever had their arms around me couldn't know my affiliation.

If he did, and I survived tonight, I'd be dead in a matter of days.

"Really man?" Steve raised his arms in an unbelievable gesture towards the man who tightened his grip like iron, earning a yelp from me. I cringed at the steel that dug into my backside.

A/N: From now on they are speaking spanish I just don't want to translate, k thanks!

"The way I see it, you have two options here." Javi stood with one hip out, his hands gripping his belt loop.

"You can let the girl go, and come with us peacefully. Saving the lives of your meth-heads."

I looked now, seeing them on their knees, bags over their heads, with guns pointed to their temples like me.

"Or you can choose not to let the girl go, and I shoot you square between the fucking eyes."

He shrugged, palms facing the two of us. "It's your choice."

Silence filled the air and I wasn't sure who was supposed to make the next move as I studied Javi in front of me. His eyes lulled me to relax.

"You'll never be able to stop Escobar you DEA fuck. The drugs were flown to america early this morning. You're way past the point of redemption and way past the opportunity for making up lost time."

A fat loogie flew past my cheek, landing on Javier's boot.

The color was putrid as his breath lingered around me. Javier had only given a wicked smirk as if he just signed the mans death certificate.

Steve only gagged from behind.

Charming.

I honestly hadn't planned for it to happen, but it did and it was sort of genius.

Once the contents in my stomach reached my mouth from the disgusting sight on Javier's leathered toe, there was no stopping it. Whiskey and remnants of dinner went all over the floor and the man released me, but not without slicing a deep cut into my cheek from the sharp steel of the gun.

I lost balance as he shoved me to the floor, the barrel of the gun pointed at my face.

"Filthy Bitch." He seethed.

That's when Javi had been true to his word.

The man was dead a moment later with a hole square between his eyes, hot with metal from Javi's bullet.

His body collapsed beside mine as his blood splattered on my face.

I wailed at such a sight as his body became blurry.

A/N: back to English now!

I could barely make out the expression on his face as Javi dropped to a knee before me. His jacket was shed not a moment later to gently clean the bodily fluid from my face. I had almost gagged again until he lifted me with a sweet whisper. "Lets go home."

___

I woke the next morning to a dark room.

The drapes hadn't been drawn.

The nightstand had held nothing other than a two day old glass of water.

The headache took shape quickly and I dropped back down against the pillow with a groan. Rubbing my face in hope to come to but then my fingertips collided with a large bandage stuck to my cheek.

Fuck, I didn't think the slice was that resounding.

"Morning."

Javi appeared, lingering in the doorway, his arms were crossed while leaning against the frame.

"Hi." It was small and unsure as he approached the window, opening the drapes, and letting the sun in. I only sat awkwardly like a child waiting for their punishment.

He then approached with a bottle of water and two headache pills. Handing the bottle to me, Javi gives a sweet greeting kiss and I jumped back. "I haven't brushed my teeth, Jav."

He shrugs. I tilt my head. "And I vomited my guts out last night?"

"You think that bothers me?"

"It should?" I challenged, earning an eye roll while shoving the two pills down my throat washing them down with water.

"You want to tell me why you were at Lux last night?" His brow raised with intimidation.

"Just looking for some harmless fun." I blindly picked at the fabric of the blanket, trapped in his stare.

"Yeah, a gun to the temple looked harmless."

I scoffed. "Oh please, like I knew you were going to Clint Eastwood the entire place." I crossed my arms.

He only stared.

"You need to be more smart with yourself, y/n." He caressed the bandage on my cheek as a reminder.

A reminder of another close call but I drew his hand from me.

"You don't get to tell me what I need." I spelt and leaned back into my pillow.

"You're angry with me."

"Furious" I emphasized.

He gestured me to explain. Its then that the heartbreak rose to the surface.

My eyes dropped, hiding the despair.

"I've never felt so alone." I wept with pain at the sentence.

"Javi..You're never around. I eat breakfast alone, I eat dinner alone, I sleep alone."

"Its like you don't exist." I finished as the bed adjusted beside me from his weight. My slumped figure was then pulled onto his chest. Warm arms slung around my waist and cradled the back of my head.

"I'm sorry." He whispered. His mustache tickled my forehead as he pressed a sweet kiss to it.

"This case keeps me up at night, its..never ending and I haven't wanted you seeing me in this shape because I knew it'd take just about everything from you, but if I knew you had felt like...I just..I would have been here y/n. Forgive me."

I sat up, facing him. His eyes, once brown with spunk and energy, were now grey with exhaustion. They lit the smallest spark as I caressed his cheek. "You need rest." He drew from me, only shaking his head in agreement. We laid back down.

He had explained his truth.

The case had been taking much from him, he aimed to keep it from me...out of shame? I hadn't fully known but it was enough.

From that night on things had been different.

Javi had been there, keeping his promises.

In return I was able to give him support and enough strength to get through each day, even if it ended with chasing his nightmares away.

It was a balanced give and take that wasn't there before.

#pedro pascal #lovers #fanfic #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña #agent peña #javier pena narcos #narcos #colombia #bogotá #medell�n #fluff and smutt #angst

[mf-st4rb0y]

#wagner moura #juan pablo raba #gustavo gaviria #pablo narcos #netflix narcos #colombia #el patron #primo #meme #my edits

[a-god-in-ruins-rises]

the mediterranean sea of the future

#our sacred duty is to set up colonies on every island we can #venezuela will be our troy #we will liberate cuba #filibustering and hero cults and adventures worth writing epic poems about #we will restore gran colombia #state issued daily coffee #techno-oracle prophecies #futurist free corps #stalking through the jungles hunting for narco and commie scalps #to fulfil state sanctioned bounties #roving fleets of pirates sanctioned by letters of marque #modern day sea peoples #tropical island homesteading #pirate republic cyberpunk mega-city-states

[prodigaylusaac]

Suggest me a Latin song

#latino #latin music #narcos #colombia #mexican #mexico #america #brasil #music #suggestion #el desperado #argentina #do me a favour