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undercoverpena · 6 months

Text

anytime

javier peña x f!reader

summary: “Thank you for coming with me,” you whisper. Nodding, he feels you follow his path—dropping, scorching his face, tracing the place where the hair sits atop his lip. “Anytime, cariño.” “Anytime, really?”

wordcount: 3.1k. warnings: fluff. bestfriends to lovers. banter. reader wears a dress and has a gloss on lips. no physical description. javi calls reader solecito as a nickname only. likely warnings for spelling as i wrote this on my phone. an: huge thanks to @wildemaven for creating this moodboard (pls go show it some love), letting me make a banner from it, and then letting me write this for Javi instead of Frankie. bby, i hope you like this.

Javi had never been good at avoiding challenging situations.

For the longest time, he’s been finding himself in the centre of a whirlwind—whether in Bogotá, Cali or apparently even back home.

You, his friend, best friend—a well-kept secret, tucked away in his chest, not shared with a soul when he was away. You were a thing that he’d clutched close to his chest from the moment the two of you had first gotten close, through his failed engagement and even more so when he left for Colombia. You, in all your understanding, hugging him, telling him he’d be great, amazing, the very best.

Both of you were younger then, less worn down by life, its many obstacles and all the other things.

You best not become best friends with anyone over there, Peña. As if anyone could annoy me as much as you, solecito.

In the brief interim of his return, you hadn’t appeared all that different. You may have had a job, a house—drove a slightly better car than when the two of you were staying out at all hours—but you, at your core remained very much the fucking same.

Still just as understanding, as kind. A person who got him, without really needing to try.

For Javi, the best thing—outside of you being you and the monthly calls you made him promise to keep when he was drowning in murder, drugs and Escobar—is that you never ask him about it. Any of it.

You had always let him pretend, escape, listen to you fill him in on gossip—things such as disagreements over the size of rhubarb and whether someone was having an affair. A thing you did even when he came back. Even more grateful for it then, when he grew tired of the questions, the compliments, the everything.

Its why he didn’t tell you when he would land back in Laredo for good. Just waiting, standing outside your place, leaning against your car as you walk down the street—eyes brushing over him, pausing, before he gets to see that smile. That signature fucking smile.

When he’d left the first time, he remembers how you’d lingered near your car, unwilling to climb into your bright yellow death trap—the entire reason he called you solecito to begin with—wearing the beginnings of that smile even then.

The difference is now he knows that there was something under it. Hidden, held back, kept from him.

It’s why it meant so much to him when he saw it in all its glory, all alight, blooming and somehow healing.

He can’t explain it, but it repairs strands inside of him. Your presence alone continuing to do so when he meets you for lunches, coffees, and late-night drinks. In exchange, he makes you laugh, your head thrown back as he tells you about whatever he did on the ranch—all of it comical, apparently. Because the idea of him, Javier Peña doing ranch work brought tears to your eyes.

“You’re just jealous.”

“Jealous?” you splutter, taking a mouthful of your beer as you narrow your eyes.

Nodding, he leans back into the booth, arm stretched out, picking and picking—the label crumbling from the sweating bottle. “Yeah. Bet you’re upset you don’t get to see me herd cattle and mend fences.”

“Oh, yeah. One-hundred-percent.”

Shrugging, he grins—an easy task with you. A thing that has always been that way, even when he turned up at your door when he couldn’t get married; even when the two of you sat under the stars when he told you about possibly going to Colombia. You still made him grin—even when things weren’t fucking easy at all.

“I’ll add it to my to-do list—visit Peña on the ranch—it’s currently sat under finding a dress, a boyfriend and the will to fucking live.”

Snorting, he traces his bottom lip with his thumb.

Your face scrutinises him, before rolling your eyes. And he just waits—because you always spill eventually.

One. Two. Th—

Fine, you huff, before it unravels from you. How the wedding of your work colleague is close, closer than I thought and you’re tired of attending these things alone, circled like a fucking fish by single sharks.

And he’s listening, taking it in. Trying to not wince at how high-pitched you’ve got as you’ve ranted.

Mainly, Javi finds there’s more questions rising than answers provided.

One singular one rising to the top. A thing he’s wanted to ask for the last few weeks. Not in a rude way, or in the way it burns inside his chest when he talks to you on the phone and he has to bury it. But, it’s there, bubbling, wishing to escape and know. It's even louder when the two of you are like this, crammed in a space, laughing, smiling, sharing, wondering—

Why are you even single? How are you?

You’ve mentioned people—names, here and there when the two of you had been on the phone. Them fluttering out before you can pull them back, but then they’re forgotten. Javi, I get one call a month—let me tell you about the cattle war going off. And, in a way, he didn’t want to hear, didn’t want to know, so he never asked.

Now, it’s all he wants to ask.

Because you’re… you. You’re brilliant, beautiful—funny, clever, witty. And yet—

“—so, now it’s a week out, and I need to find a dress, a date and drive there to watch another person I know get married.”

He knows he should busy his mouth with the bottle—wrap his odd idea in beer. But, that part of him—the one which wants to help, solve issues, and be useful—rises up in him like a phoenix left from the ashes of Colombia.

“I’ll go with you.”

He expects the pause, even braces for the look of shock.

He doesn’t expect the smirk. Doesn’t expect the way it spreads out, to hit your eyes. How under the low-bar light over the table, it makes your eyes glimmer and fucking shimmer.

“You want to go to a wedding with me?”

Shrugging, he picks off the last part of the label—the mess of it all circling around where the glass meets the wood.

Mirroring him, you shrug. “Alright.”

“Alright.”

He should take his eyes off you, but he finds he can’t.

Javi hasn’t been able to since you stepped out of your place, a handful of your dress as you locked up—stepping down your steps to his car, letting it flutter down to your ankles.

You look like a fucking dream.

A thought he knows he shouldn’t have—but has all the same. His heart staggered, half-halting in its hammering as his hands paused in their drumming on the steering wheel; his glasses slid down his nose, his skin suddenly warm all over, even if his jacket was already splayed out across the backseat.

Close your mouth, Peña.

I’m chewing gum, solecito.

Yeah, that’s why your mouth is open.

It hadn’t passed his notice that you were good-looking before today. He’s known you were, had always known it—he had eyes, after all. But, he’d always felt there was a line. A line the two of you never delved too close to step over. The sign above both of your heads already illuminated in bright bulbs and flashing lights:

JUST FRIENDS.

Until this, anyway. This thing that can only be described as the longest one-hour drive he’s ever been on. And he used to do recon with Murphy.

Because you’re teasing, taunting him. All in that usual way that you do. And it’s so easy to flirt back, to let line after line roll, but he has begun to spot you squirming.

Doing so while matching his suit in a deep brown shade—chosen by him, ‘pick a colour suit, Javi’. Adding a tinge to some of your comments—things that if said by someone that wasn’t you, he’d ask them (flirtingly) if they were coming on to him.

But with you, it’s something he can never be sure. Never something that can be completely understood, known, cracked or figured out. In the same way, he can’t understand how your perfume keeps following him. How it embeds itself into the cabin of his truck when he picks you up, sews itself into his clothing when the two of you meet—and right now, is attempting to bury itself in his skin, muscles, and bones.

“You’ve been abnormally quiet.”

Smirking, he snorts. Fingers smoothing out his hair as he swings into a spot—the tyres crunching over the gravel. “Have I? Or have you just not shut up.”

“Rude.”

Laughing, he cuts the engine—hands resting on the top of his thighs, not missing the way your eyes follow his movements before clearing your throat. It shifts something in him, makes a little part of him surge, like the smallest of fireworks suddenly erupting in his chest.

Something he forces himself to shut down the moment you shove open your door, slipping out, as he grabs his jacket.

“Do I need to be worried about you crying today, solecito?”

Rearranging your dress, and slipping the strap of your bag over your shoulder, you squint as you stand tall, hand covering your brow as you meet his gaze.

And fuck, with this backdrop, even squinting, you look beautiful, radiant, stunning all over again. Somehow his brain having forgotten when you were next to him, when you were acting as if this was the most normal fucking thing they’ve ever done.

It isn’t.

Something he’s becoming more aware of as his throat goes dry, and his thoughts slow to nothing—

“No, you’re good. Your mouth is open again.”

You say it with a smirk, all teasing—making heat lick up his spine all over again. And, if you were anyone else, he’d have already pulled you close, tilted your chin up, and likely smothered your mouth with his.

But, you’re his friend—his best friend. The one solid thing he’s had in his life since he became a name, a poster, a hero.

“C’mon,” you say, turning on your heel as you head in the direction of the entrance, him following, jacket slipping on as he mutters mouth isn’t fucking open under his breath.

Even if he knows it was. Even if he’s desperately trying to stop his eyes from descending down to your hips, eyes fixated on the way you walk with ease to the wooden sign which greets all the guests.

He knows, due to his absence from home, there haven’t been many weddings he’s attended. Least of all like this. But even he thinks this is over the top, suddenly understanding why you hadn’t wanted to come alone. Because grand doesn’t quite cover it—not after the last one he’d attended.

This one has flickering candles lit in the day, waiters all set to hand glasses of bubbles and offer little mouthfuls of flavour on silver trays. Then, there’s the backdrop—the enormity of the building, only for you to tell him that it’s an outside wedding.

It’s more of a comfort as to why his hand drops to the small of your back than anything else. A need to be rooted, to feel calmer as he nods at passing people he doesn’t know (and hopes don’t know him), feeling you curl into him subconsciously, your bag swinging between the two of you both—affording a gap, forcing it, in fact.

The ceremony will start soon.

He overhears it, as he assumes you do, because your fingers wrap around his wrist—taking it from your back, before your palm meets his, and then you’re guiding, leading. Dragging him. All willingly to the back of the building where he sees it—the makeshift aisle. A wooden arch, and lots of deep orange-brown chairs all line up on either side of an orange aisle.

“Glad we chose brown now,” he murmurs.

“Does it make you think, y’know—being at a wedding?”

He swallows. Because it’s a loaded question.

One he assumes has been sitting all politely on the tip of your tongue since you sat beside him in his vehicle. It’s why his eyes watch you carefully as you grab the two of them a flute each from a passing waiter. Handing it to him, adding nothing—not rescuing him. Just waiting instead, doing that thing you do, where your eyes widen as you wait, trying to look all innocent even though it’s you who has just dropped a live grenade into the centre of the conversation.

Shaking his head, he snorts. “No. Not really. Knew… I knew deep down it wasn’t right. Her… and me.”

“You got any idea what’s right?”

You take a sip this time when the question lands, it again sparkling in glittered innocence, the softest of smiles pressed against the glass.

You he thinks. But he swallows that away and says ‘Not a fucking clue’ instead.

Throughout the day, he’s been desperate for a reason to stop looking at you.

So far, he’s found none.

Bits and pieces of things Murphy used to say, the words he’d drop into conversation when talking about his wife: how he knew, why she was the one, all coming back to him in drips and drops.

It dawns on him, the same as it had done since before he went to Cali, that you might mean a little more than a friend. A lot of what Murphy used to say, so easily applied to how Javi felt about you.

You make him feel calmer, create a space where he can relax, really unwind. It’s easy, uncomplicated, when he’s with you—from the conversation to the things he thinks. Complex balled thoughts stretch out until they’re in easy-to-decipher lines, able to process, able to understand.

He even told you about the boats.

A secret he’d have been prepared to take to the grave, if not for the fact you pointed out he wasn’t sleeping. Your eyes watching, pleading, don’t lie to me. And fuck, he couldn’t—not even if he wanted to.

That should have been the first sign.

He guesses he should be thankful today has been stuffed with more of them. One after the other. From the way you made sure to make him a plate of only his favourite things, to the way you knew when he needed a bit of space from the thousand questions as to how you both knew one another, and what he does.

Now, Javi is on the sidelines, admiring you in a way that makes his heart double in size.

Your dress skims around your calves as you dance—your arms rising above your head, glee stitched itself from cheek to cheek. On occasion, time halts when your eyes land on his—stealing whatever thought he had, only resuming normality when you close your eyes, belting out the lyrics to the song.

Mainly, the thought he finds which keeps returning is: I wanna do this with you again. any place. any time.

A hollowness scratches out in his chest as he lets himself acknowledge it. A thickness growing in his throat, a sorrowness weighs down on his shoulders as he nurses his glass—hand in his trouser pocket, telling himself he should be content he got to be on your arm, got to have you against him during a slow dance over an hour ago. That he gets to see you smile, hear your laugh—even know you.

“Hey, Peña.”

“Hey solecito.”

You grin—a little breathless, the music having changed, becoming slower, softer—wrenching the glass from his hand as you drain it.

“Fuck me. Y’thirsty?”

“Very. You’d know if you had any rhythm.”

He pinches you, lightly—teasingly. Your grin shifts into a laugh, tucking yourself in against him, arm around his back. And fuck, the way you’re looking up at him, he wants to warn you.

If you look at me like that, I’m going to kiss you.

Javi wonders what you’d do if you did. Whether you’d pull away, hissing the two of you are friends. Or whether you’d kiss him back.

“Want to get some fresh air?” you ask, your words against his ear—lips so close to ghosting his skin.

“Sure.”

It’s cooler when the two of you step out from under the marquee, the music getting quieter when your fingers loop in his, guiding, easing him around plant pots and tall trees, until the two of you are descending marble stairs and past iron fencing, to take him to the perimeter, to the view looking out over the city.

He watches as you step forward, fingers around the iron fencing, leaning, staring out as you let out a heavy sigh. One laced with things he wants to ask for, tug it from you, let you unload whatever is weighing on you—because that’s what you both do for one another.

You make it easy.

Make it all bearable.

But, whether you mean to, or not, you shiver. A light one, barely noticeable by most—but he isn’t most. His fingers are already at the button, undoing it, sliding his jacket down his arms before he places it over your shoulders, watching your head turn, meeting his gaze.

“You look really pretty.”

Flicking your eyes down, you smile. Sweetly. Unreadably. “Well, you’ve always been pretty.”

“Pretty?”

Laughing, your fingers tug his jacket closer, burying yourself in it. “The prettiest, Javier.”

Leaning beside you, he feels the metal from the railings, you’re both resting on, cut into his palms. He wonders if you feel the same, your dress billowing in the gentle breeze as the two of you stare off into the distance, spotting the flickering lights of a city, of homes tucking in for the night.

Then he turns his head, finding you already watching him, studying him in a similar way as you were before.

And, he lets his eyes drop to your mouth. A sign. A signal. It’s not the first time, usually, he does so when you’re not looking, letting himself trace the curve of your lips. Now, he stares at the way your gloss has long since gone, left behind on glasses and straws.

“Thank you for coming with me,” you whisper.

Nodding, he feels you follow his path—dropping, scorching his face, tracing where the hair sits atop his lip.

“Anytime, cariño.”

“Anytime, really?”

Nodding, he swallows. A thousand things he’s thought, and felt, all rushing to the surface—unwilling to bury itself, to descend under the usual guilt and feelings of inadequacies when it comes to you.

“I’d do anything for you.”

Smirking, you tilt your head. “Anything?”

Biting your lip, he feels it—something thrumming in him, being plucked.

“Will you kiss me?”

“I could…”

Your brows rise, a louder cheer coming from inside, but it doesn’t do anything to tear your eyes away from the other.

The whole world could slowly vanish from around the two of you, and all he’d want is just to stare at you.

“But?” you ask, delicately.

Almost so softly, it makes his chest ache.

Dipping his head, he lets his gaze wash over the place again—the rolling land, the trees, the houses in the distance.

“If I kiss you, I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

You slide closer, shoulder to shoulder, eyes scorching his jaw, his neck, the side profile he can feel you tracing with your gaze.

“Then don’t,” you say.

His neck almost cracks with the quickness of his movement, his eyes scanning, reading, a part of him wanting to step back, and protect you. Because he’s not sure about the parts of him you’d find easy to love—

“You don’t know what you’re—“

“Don’t care,” you interrupt, fingers twitching on the lapel of his jacket. “I know you—Javi, not Agent Peña. I know the boy who cloud-watched with me when my parents wouldn’t stop fighting; I know the man who told me to stop sending him postcards from the town shop—but also whispered that he liked them.”

Snorting, he smiles.

“So, if you want to, no pressure—but, I think you should kiss me.”

“Yeah?”

Nodding, you bite your cheek. “Think you’ve wasted a lot of time not kissing me already, honestly.”

Of course you do, he thinks. And then he kisses you, palms on your cheeks, slanting his mouth over yours.

And fuck, it’s the best fucking thing he’s ever done.

an: honestly, this made me so fucking happy to write.

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mrsjavierpena · 4 months

Text

not (un)expected | part 1

javier peña x f!secretary!reader

summary: Javier has one, only one very strict policy: to not ever fuck a co-worker; specially if that co-worker is his own secretary. but you make it such a hard promise to keep

chapter warnings: narcos' spoilers, smut, grinding, unprotected p in v, kind of exhibitionism, (light?) angst, a lot of cursing (its javier pena), kinda slow burn/slow start, unspecified age gap, work dynamics, reader has no name/descripition (but has hair long enough to pull), no use of 'y/n'

IMPORTANT: English is not my first language, i've done my best with grammar but there will be mistakes (fuck prepositions i hate them), so pls overlook those

wordcount: 7k

an: this is part one of a two part story; feel free to reblog and leave your comment. im so happy with the reception of this fic, its my first time posting something here, thank you guys so much for the support - also, if you want to be tagged in part two (really don't know when is coming out) just lmk in the comments.

hope you enjoy!

Javier was known for being an asshole.

Everyone in the office called him that; not to his face, of course, since he was the boss, but he knew, and honestly? He kind of did it on purpose. Being sent back to Colombia to be the CIA puppy didn't in fact thrilled him, but he also wasn't there to make friends. A little bit later than one month into his new position and Javier had already changed secretaries twice. Just by being himself.

The first one was a kind old lady that liked to talk a little bit too much for Javi's taste - which was none. To be fair, he tried to handle her. He listened to her talking of her yougest child finishing college, but she asked him if maybe he could get him a job at the deparment - what in the actual fuck? -, she felt the need to tell him that her older one and his wife were trying to have a baby - he wondered what gave her the impression he wanted to know that her son was fucking someone raw. She just wouldn't shut up. She left not much after a month, at his first snap - took him too long, to be honest.

The last one was a young man fresh out of the academy, who thanked him for the opportunity every time he saw him - which, since he was just outside his office, was pretty often. Despite how thankful he was for the job, he wasn't very interested in working, at least not as he was to flirting with another secretary in the floor below. But that wasn't the worst part, the kid had no idea what he was supposed to do and would go ask Javier for help for every task given to him - he swore he was shaking everytime. Javi didn't care that he was young and was learning, he didn't receive enough to raise a child at work. Didn't last a week.

Javier had headaches just by the thought of who would be sent next. With his current luck, it could be his ex-fiancée. He definitely didn't expect you knocking on his office door and introducing yourself as his new secretary. He was speechless for a moment; you were the combo of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life with a killing black pencil skirt, so tight it showed all your curves. You gave him a firm handshake and asked if he needed anything from you, and, when he denied, that was it. You went to your desk; didn't ask him questions, didn't tell him your whole life, didn't thank him for an opportunity he didn't give you, just went to do your work.

For a while, Javier was glad that you didn't give him any trouble, but that was until you quickly learned his habits. As soon as he arrived the office, you would receive him with a polite smile, a cup of black coffee and his schedule for the day. When he dove into files and forgot he was a person, you would bring him his lunch and wouldn't leave until he had at least a bite - as if he was a kid, what an absurd -, you would sense when he was stressed and would excuse yourself into his office with coffee and a pack of cigarettes and leave without saying a word.

He hated how much he appreciated that - even worse, how he liked that. It didn't take long for him to want to fuck you, to become obssessed with you. And it wasn't just him, he could see every other men in the department - single or not - turn their neck as they watched you pass by. But it was not just that you were hot, you were nice too; he would watch you from his office - not in a creepy way, though, he just didn't have anything much better to do - and you would distribute smiles and polite greetings to every soul that passed your desk, people would constantly stop by to small talk with you and you would let them be for five minutes or so before politely dismiss them to go back to work. Every fucking body there adored you.

Things had always been very professional between you both. Javi held back his flirty instinct and you- well, you didn't even seem interested in him at all. That was untill a very stressfull friday with Stechner giving him shit again. He left the building straigh to the bar, ready to drown himself on whiskey and find a quick fuck for the night, not expecting at all to find you aparently doing the same. Javier considered just ignoring you and go sitting with one of the women that turned their heads in his direction as soon as he entered, but something inside of him made him take the few steps to the bar and get the stool beside where you sat.

You almost spilled your drink when he approached.

"Sorry" you coughed "Wasn't expecting to see you here"

Your body language told him that you weren't comfortable with him there, he saw your backs getting as straight as when you were at work, and immediately regretted joining you.

"Well, that makes it two of us" he raised his hand to order his drink "What's the occasion?" he points to your drink with his chin.

Your grip on your glass seemed to tighten and you took one very long sip before answering dryly "I could ask you the same"

"Work" he raised his brows "It's always work"

"Did something happen after I left?" you pinched your brows.

"No, no, just people giving me shit"

"Oh, I see..." you sighed and silence fell between you.

"So..."

"Well..." you both started talking together and laughed akwardly.

"You go" you said.

"Am I bothering you? Cause I didn't mean to, I can sit somewhere else" he didn't even know why he was asking, he should've just said goodbye and left. He was already standing when your hand found his arm.

You sighed heavily "No, not at all, I'm sorry I gave that impression, sir" you seemed genuine, that's why he sat back "I'm just stressed"

Sir. Why were you calling him sir in a bar?

"Do you want to talk about it? If there's something bothering you we can discuss it and sol-"

"It's not work related" you were quick to interrupt "Work is, honestly, the simplest part of my life right now"

"Things must be pretty bad then, 'cause I see the amount of papers on your desk everyday" that made you chucke "The offer still stands, if you want to"

You took a big breath before dropping the bomb "Broke up with my boyfriend"

Now that was a new territory. He knew absolutly nothing about your life besides you moving to Colombia from the United States; he didn't know anything from your life back there, not your family, friends, definitely not about your boyfriend; and now, somehow, knowing you didn't have one anymore made it even harder for him not to want you.

"What happened?"

"Well, actually, it seems like we had already broken up a while ago and he just forgot to send the memo" you drank your whole half glass all at once ", since he was fucking every pussy that crossed his fucking way"

He was stunned. One thing about Javier was that he was never to deny any woman; honestly, he found every body attractive and apreciatted every woman that gave herself to him. He couldn't say he had a type, but you, with what he saw with your clothes on? He would fuck you every minute of everyday he could. It was absurd to believe someone would give up on you.

"Damn!" he couldn't help but say loudly, making your eyes go wide as if just then realising what you had just said.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be telling you this. I apologise, sir"

"You don't- don't apologise" he almost raised his hand to touch you, but stopped himself before "How did you find out?" you looked at him with raised brows "If you don't mind me asking"

"One of my friends called me last night and told me. She saw him at a bar with two women" you laughed, but there was no humor to be found.

"And you were still smiling at everyone at work today" he was impressed.

You smirked at him "Don't let my personal life mix with work, sir"

"Smart woman" he nods "We for sure have a reason to drink, then" waving his hand to the barman "Let me buy you one"

You don't even bother to refuse.

After three more glasses of what he found out was tequila, your shoulders were much more relaxed and so was your tongue. He found out that you and your ex had been dating for six years when you got the opportunity of job and had to move; two months had passed already.

"And you know what the worst part is?" your laugh is dry "I don't even feel bad because my heart is broken or any shit like that, it's just that is so fucking humiliating" you groaned with your hands on your face "I'm from a small town, you know, by now every soul there knows what he's been doing"

He had to laugh "That's what you're worried about?" you looked at him with false ofense.

"It's my honor we're talking about here!" he laughed even more "It's silly, I know..." you sigh shakly as you take another sip of your drink "But it is humbiling, being cheated on"

"I can't fucking believe anyone could ever cheat on you" he thought. At least he thought he did, but by the way you were looking at him - pinched brows and a curious look in your face, he had to have said it out loud "I mean, only shitty people cheat on nice people. Only shitty people cheat, that's it."

You nodded after a few seconds of silence "You're right, sir"

"You should stop calling me sir"

"I don't think so"

"Why not? We're already half drunk together at a shitty bar"

"Because you're still my boss"

Without any response to that, he looks at you. Really looks at you. Your eyes glassy from the alcohol, red puffy lips looking more appealing than ever... It would have been so easy to just lean in and kiss you. When his eyes came back to yours, it almost seemed like they were on his lips too, that you were leaning in too, that you desired him as much as he desired you and... Then it was not there anymore. Suddenly, you seemed farther than ever, backs as streight as always and eyes avoiding his.

"I should go home"

He agreed. He put you on a cab. He wished you a goodnight.

Then went back to the bar to find someone to not spend the night alone.

The next Monday, though, you seemed even more professional than ever. Wouldn't be around him more than the necessary, wouldn't look him in the eyes and it fucking bothered him.

"Yes, sir?" you entered his office after he called your name.

He sighs as he looked you up and down, his eyes lingering to your skirt pressing against your tights "How are you?"

"I'm fine" you hesitated "Why do you ask? Is something wrong?"

"Lying to me, 's all" your eyes went wide "Listen, last night-"

Your nostrils flared, your hands clenching into fists; you took a deep breath before interrupting him "I am fine"

"Ok, then" he raised his hands in defensiveness "It's just that last night-"

"Last night I was drunk!" you passed your hands through your face "I said things I shouldn't have and I am embarressed and would very much appreciate if we pretended that it never happened"

Javier was silent for a moment. He understandood your apprehension, but damn if he wasn't dismayed by it.

"Alright, 'm sorry I brought it up. But just to let you know, you don't have anything to be embarressed for, you have my word that I wouldn't hold any if that against you and..." and it was nice to talk to you "Yeah, don't worry about that"

You looked at him for a few seconds before nodding "You need anything else, sir?"

Many things, yeah. For starters, you calling him by his name; second, being able to have a casual conversation with you when alcohol isn't envolved and third, your fucking clothes off because he got embarrassingly hard just by looking at you. But instead, he only denied and you left before any other word could leave his mouth.

Javi knew it was for the best. Fucking you would be no good - well, he'd bet it would be hot as shit, but too much trouble for a one night stand. He had a whole city to fool around with, to be focused in someone from his work place, his own secretary, was nonsense. You never even gave him any hint you wanted him, if anything, the actual opposite; you told him yourself last night, personal life away from work.

Javi made sure to remember all that.

➫

He didn't keep those thoughts for long, though.

A few days later, you met at a bar once again. A better one this time and with half of the office joined. It was Feistl's birthday and he invited the whole department for drinks. Nobody could hide their surprise when Javi aproached them; usually, he wouldn't attend this type of gathering, in his rarely free times, he better prefered the company of a good whiskey and a woman, and his colleagues knew that. His employee had invited him just to be polite and that was clear, but he knew you were going to be there, Javi just wanted one more opportunity to prove to himself that you didn't feel the same way he did, that he didn't have the same effect on you that you had on him. Once that prooved, he could move on. So he was there on a mission, trying to be the most discrete he could as he watched you from afar.

The two of you seemed to be the reflexion of each other from across the table, tense bodies and drinks in hand, the only difference being you talking with your colleagues and him not making the effort. To his defense, people weren't trying to talk to him either. Honestly, Javier kind of felt like it wasn't just that they were surprised to see him there, it felt like they didn't want him there at all by some looks he was receiving.

He was okay with that, he guessed, he would much rather analyse your behavior outside work. You didn't seem to change much, honestly; maybe your smile were a little bit more genuine, but the conversations were pretty much the same he heard you have back in the office and it could have been the larger amount of alcohol in your system that night, yeah, but you seemed more relaxed alone with him.

After half an hour there, Javi couldn't bring himself to talk to you, you seemed too interested in a conversation about the new coffee pot in the scullery with another secretary. He was getting frustrated, in another times he would interrupt the other woman and flirt with you effortlessly; it probably had to do with the environment, you were surronded by co-workers, or maybe he was losing his touch - it was almost like he was too afraid to make the move.

Javi decided to leave soon after one hour there. He congratulated Feistl for his birthday, said goodbye to whoever recognized his leaving, paid his bill and passed through the door.

"Hey" he turned around at the sound of your voice, seeing you walking towards him "Are you ok?"

He ran his hand over his chin "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know" you shrugged "you kind of ran out of the bar"

"'S fine, you should go back inside" Javi pointed at the entrace with his chin.

You tilt your head to the side "I don't really believe you"

"I'm not asking you to" he crossed his arms "And, what, you wanna talk now? You've been quiet at work all week"

"We're not at work, though, are we?" you were quick to answer.

Javi looked you up and down "No, we're not"

"You know" you took a few steps forward ", it's not like they don't like you, they are just kind of scared of you"

Were you watching him too? Why would you say that? How would you notice?

He furrowed his eyebrows "Scared of me? Why?"

You looked at him with yours raised "You know how you act at work, don't you?"

Javi sighed and looked away. He did act like an asshole at work, it didn't seem to bother you, though. Your gazes met again as silence fell between the two of you and he decided to take the few steps left to get you as close as you never got before.

"Are you scared of me?"

You kept your eyes locked as you answered "No. You're not as bad as you think you are" you licked your lips "At least not with me"

The air thickend between the two of you, the only sound being the noises of a night in Colombia. There was no way you were not feeling that too, the way your bodies seemed to linger to each other's direction. He's sure he's not imagining the way your breath heaved, how your chest expansed, the brightness in your eyes.

No, that was real, he was not mistaking it.

A voice broke the tension, you taking a few steps back to a safe distant from him. You both looked in the direction of the sound: a woman was calling you, the same woman you talked all night, at the entrance of the bar, a few feet away from where the both of you stood.

"Maybe if you went back there and paid the next round..." he swore he saw expectancy in your eyes.

"Maybe another time" you nodded; you both knew it wouldn't happen.

You looked at him one last time before walking away "Good night, sir"

Javi nodded even though you weren't looking anymore and his eyes followed the sweet swing of your hips as you made your way back to the bar. He could hear the woman asking what it was about:

"Nothing" you answered.

He would disagree.

➫

Javier was in a terrible, terrible mood. Things weren't going how he thought they would go, not even close to it. Feistl got a good lead about the Rodriguez brothers, one worth following, and he could do nothing about it; had to look to his subordinate and say no to his face. In the beggining, Javi had plans on reediming himself by catching Los Pepes, making amends with the city and it's people by arresting those who he felt like helped to ascend. He felt like a failure, and by the look on Feistl face, he thought so too. To worsen everything, as if it could get any, he had a huge, massive amount of piles to go through.

He lifted his eyes from the paper for the first time in hours when you knocked at the door. He knew your shift had ended a couple of hours ago, but you decided to finish the paperwork of the day so it wouldn't affect his own work the next morning, even though you couldn't have finished it on time because of the extra work put over you. It was something he frequently saw you doing, leaving much later than the others.

"I am leaving, sir. Is there something I could do for you?"

He scratched his chin and sighed heavily "Well, if you could make this fucking paperwork disappear I would built a statue of you"

You exiled a short laugh "I'm afraid that's not possible, sir"

"No, it's not" he reclined on his chair and looked at your body on the frame for a few seconds "Have a goodnight"

You nodded and left. He stood up to get a drink right after, hearing some noises outside that must have been you grabing your stuff. You were probably the last person on the floor besides him, and soon enough he would be alone, like he had been for so many nights, working until late, only able to go home to shower and come back. It wasn't much trouble, though, it's not like he could sleep even if he had the time.

A soft knock on the door surprised him, glass and bottle on each hand.

"Sorry to bother again" you said with only your head in the room after he told you to come in "But do you want help?"

He looked at you, at the pile and then at you again "You wanna help me with that?" you nodded "Why?"

"Nothing better to do" you shruged.

He should've said no. Should've told you to go home and have some rest.

He should have, yes.

"Have a sit" he pointed to the couch with the piles of papers he's been on for the last three hours.

You closed the door behind you and something on his skin tingled. You had never been this alone.

"Want a drink?" you didn't hesitate in accepting, as if waiting for him to offer.

Javier poured you one too and handed you the glass, something you thanked him for as you took a sip and he sitted beside you. You two stayed in silence reading, the only sound being the papers as you tossed them around.

"Can I give you an unasked opinion, sir?"

He almost laughed at that "Go ahead"

"You're separating these by topics, I see" he nodded "Taking one paper at the time and seeing what they are and then doing them separetly " he nodded again "I think it would be quicker if we made piles by the specific topics you have"

"You mean..."

"I mean" suddenly you stood up from the couch and knelt on the floor. Fortunally you didn't see his eyes going wide as you took a pile in your hands and put it beside you "You have a huge office, you should put the files on display and organize them better" you looked at him while taking the other piles "You helping?"

He smirked and hushed to help you. He liked this side of you; more relaxed, kind of bossy, tongue more loose... It was a shame you only showed him when there was alcohol running through your system.

"This, if you don't mind me saying, is how I organize the piles on your desk when I bring them to you, but you seem to prefer the hardest way"

Fuck, he was getting hard.

It was nuts. Absolutly nuts. What the fuck was happening, what effect was that you had on him? You did nothing but say a few dirty words without intention. Completely. Nuts.

"I do prefer the hard way" came out of his mouth before he could control it. If you didn't notice the double meaning or chose to ignore it, he didn't know "But I never noticed, no" he sighed "Honestly, I don't even know how it got to this point"

The paperwork, somehow, did accumulate, even though all he did of his life was working.

"I understand, I can see how you get lost in work" your focus was on the papers and you didn't seem to notice how he shifted on his place on the floor, trying to hide the beggining of an erection.

With your efficiency and new way of working, one hour and a half later and almost the whole paperwork gone, you're on your third glass and him on his fourth. He's used to drinking whiskey, but it was still alcohol, and it was making his skin buzz. You had already took off your blazer - his own gone hours ago - , wearing a thin blouse with a very modest neckline; your legs were crossed, making your skirt move up a little, and he was going crazy with just the tiny amount of skin you were showing.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead" you didn't even move your eyes from the paper.

"Why didn't you go home?"

You don't talk for a few seconds and he took the opportunity to stare "There's nothing waiting for me at home"

That got him thinking about your moving there. To go from a small town in the countryside to a city like Bogotá, not knowing a soul; you had acquaintances, yes, but he saw you that day at the bar, they surely were people you liked to be with, but were not friends of yours. Javi had been there, too, actually, if he would be honest with himself, he was still in the same situation. When he moved to Medellín, he had those people he could go out with and grab a drink after work, but that was all; at least until Steve came into the picture, the person he never thought he would befriend with, the only real friend he'd had in years.

"Yeah, I kind of get that" your eyes meet "Work until late for a reason"

"I guess we both need to get a life, then" you smirked.

"Cheers to that" he raised his glass to you, you did the same until it clicked with his "So, life... How is yours going?" he tried to act nonchalant by moving his eyes on the paper in his hand "With that ex-boyfriend thing and all"

Your laugh was low "Don't do that"

"Do what?" he raised his eyes again to find yours still on him.

You tilted your head to the side "Don't go down that road when we're like this"

"Like what?" he caught the exact moment your eyes fell to his lips, so he casually wet them with his tongue. If he wasn't so absorbed by the thickness in the air, he would have laughed at the way your eyes shut and your head fell back to rest on the couch.

"Drunk and... Not thinking straight"

Javi raised his eyebrows "I like the winding thoughts I'm having, though"

"Yeah" the look you gave him made him shiver.

Without breaking eye contact, Javi belted down his drink to gain courage and slowly moved his body until you were pressed side by side, giving you time to get your space again if you wanted to.

"This fine?" his voice was barely louder than a whisper.

You nodded.

"What if I wanted to kiss you right now?" he rested one forearm on the couch to lean his face closer to yours.

You gulped as you stared into his eyes "Then I think you should do it before we-"

He didn't give you the time to finish your sentence before his lips were on yours. Your lips were soft, he could taste the whiskey on your tongue as well with the gums you would chew all day. His right hand went straight to your jawline to lead the kiss. It was not a lulled kiss, neither a gentle one, Javier was ruthless, taking out on your lips all the built up tension from the last few months. He couldn't believe it was finally happening. You were quick to follow his pace, your fingers grasping his shirt and pulling him even closer. The first moan you let out get Javi even more eagered, his hand passing down your body to grab your ass. You took advantage of his action and, before he knew, you were climbing up his lap, knees on each side of his torso, and once you were fully sitted on his lap, you both couldn't contain a moan. At that point, your skirt barely covered half your ass; because of that, he figured that you wouldn't mind his hands slowly rubbing up your tights until they reached the fabric and rolled it up your waist.

Javi parted your mouths to take a good look at you on his lap, his eyes wandered from your heavy eyelids, your lips puffy and red from the kisses, your blouse-covered chest raising and falling as fast as his until they got to the black thong you were wearing and he couldn't help but moan "Oh, fuck me"

"You like them?" your mouth came down his neck to give him wet kisses.

"How wouldn't I?" he held you by the nape of the neck and brought your mouths together again "I've wanted this for so long"

You released some kind of laughter "I know"

"Oh, do you?" he raised his brows.

"You're not exactly subtle for an agent" you murmured between kisses.

He snorts "Well, thanks for the insight"

Javi couldn't resist the urge to touch you through the tiny piece of fabric and you moaned at the pressure at your clitoris, but he moaned too at the wetness he found.

Javi didn't ask you how long you had wanted him, you were grinding on his lap at that moment and that was all that mattered. But he wished you had said it, that you had desired him as much as he had desired you, that all this time he had been imagining this moment, you were imagining it too.

"Fuck baby, you are so wet already" his tongue licked a stripe on your neck "All this for me?"

You answer was muffled by a moan; it seemed positive, but before he could confirm you were linking your mouths again in a searing kiss.

You started moving your hips on his erection and you both moaned at the pressure. Suddenly, his torso is being pushed down to the ground, chests pressed against each other, your fingers tangled his hair and pushed and he fucking whimpered.

Jesus Christ, he was in heaven and was not even inside of you yet.

You grinded furiously against him and he found it absolutly beautiful how you were using him to pleasure yourself and was not embarressed to do so. So. Fucking. Hot.

He felt like he was coming in any second.

"Fuck, you keep doing that and will have me cumming on my fucking pants, bebita"

"Oh, say it again!"

"What? That I'm within seconds to cumming?"

You moaned loudly at that "No- I mean, that too, that's hot, but- oh fuck"

"Bebita?" he felt you shiver at the pet name and chuckled "You like that, huh?"

You grabbed the nape of his neck and lowered your head to crush your lips to his again, tongues fighting heatedly. Javi started to feel that heat boiling at the bottom of his stomach, his hips grinded against yours and the pressure were just perfect; by the sounds you were making, you were as close as he was. Javi reached for you ass and grabbed it with both of his hands and squeezed, adding even more pressure to the grindness. At last, he sucked the pulse in your neck and you started to shake above him; that combined with the sweet noises that came out of you, he was gone.

You collapse on top of him, fingers unconsciously running through his hair; his members were sore and he was so tired and satisfied that he could sleep right there. The both fo you took deep breaths while your head rested on the gap of his neck and his on the floor.

"I can't remember the last time I did this" he was the first to break the silence.

"I actually do this everyday to my pillow" you mumbered humurously and he moaned.

"Shit, you're gonna be the death of me" his hand ran up and down from your ass to your backs, loving the feeling of your curves.

You raised your head to find his eyes and the moment was gone. You both realizing what you just had done, the before contentedness in him that was mirrowed in your eyes then turning into panic.

"Shit" you clumsly stood up. You put your skirt down as quickly as you could.

"It's getting late" it was already late when you came to his office "I should go" you should stay, he wanted to say.

But instead he only nodded. He knew it was for the best. He shouldn't have let it come this far.

You quickly get your stuff and wishes him a goodnight. His eyes don't leave you until you pass through the door, yours, though, don't meet him once.

He stayed there on the floor, cum staining his pants, and even though he was fully clothed, the room had never felt colder.

➫

The next day was pure craziness. After you left his office, Javi went home, took a shower and lied in bed thinking of what had just happened between the two of you and what would happen from then on until he had to come back to work. Before he could even get to his office, you intercepted him with a cup of coffee and the news of a surprise and excruciating slow meeting with the ambassador, which led to another one with the CIA and then the atrocious combination of them both together. By the time Javi was freed from hell, everybody else were already leaving; due to your situation, he thaught that would be your case too, so he was surprised to see you still on your desk.

"I was waiting to see if you would need something else from me before I left" was your answer to the question on his face.

"I think I'm heading home too, actually" after a day like that, he felt like maybe he could even get some sleep.

He had work to do, yeah, and usually it didn't matter to him if his mind wasnt in the right place - it rarely was anyways -, but he knew nothing productive would result from working in that state. Javi also wanted to talk to you; he had so many thing in his mind, what he thought about during that whole previous night: he wanted you. So bad he didn't even know how to express it, so much he let himself cum in his pants just to get the little you were wailing to give to him. And he was concerned about what your reaction to that would be, because it was obvious that you wanted him too, but your actions showed him that you didn't want to want him. All those thoughts were consuming him, but it would have to wait for another day, he didn't think that was the right time, not at work. Maybe he could invite you for drinks and talk things through or-

"I was wondering if we could talk, too" you interrupt his thoughts "About yesterday"

If Javi wasn't a trained professional, he probably would've had his mouth opened in absolut shock. It was like you read his mind.

"Of course" you both looked around the department, the couple people remaining already preparing to leave. Still, he opened his office door and nodded for you to come in.

You were flustered, nervous even. Javi didn't know what to expect from that talk, he wished you would cave in to your needs and fuck him already, but he felt like you wouldn't be easy on him. Honestly, he couldn't read you.

The both of you stood akwardly in the middle of the room, door closed behind you. He waited patiantly for you to start talking, for you to take the lead of the conversation.

"So" you sighed "I wanted to apologise"

His face contorted in a deep frown "What for? You have nothing to apologise"

"I do, yes" you shook your head "It was completely irresponsible and unprofessional and we shouldn't have done that"

If you said you were embarressed last time, about the things you had said on the bar, Javi didn't know what you could possibly be feeling at that moment: your face was getting red, your eyes wouldn't meet his, your hands squeezed each other in your front; he kind of felt bad he was the cause of your discomfort.

"You didn't do anything by yourself"

"I jumped on you like a crazy-ass-horny woman!" over your shoulder, you look outside to see if there was anyone to witness your voice raising; there wasn't.

Javi could barely contain the smirk forcing itself upon his mouth at the memory of you riding him in that very same floor, just a few steps from where you stood. He really couldn't contain the beggining of an erection, though.

"And I loved that" you looked at him as if he was crazy for saying it "I did!" he took a few steps in your direction "And honestly, if anyone should be blamed it's me, I'm the boss, aren't I? The authority in the room or some shit like that"

The way you look at him said that you agreed, that he should be blamed too, should've had more self control, but you didn't say it and that made him smile, the way you still tried to keep your composure at work.

You sighed "Still, it wasn't right and I'm sorry"

"I'm not" he took another step towards you.

"It's not the point, sir"

"I don't think you are that sorry either" your brows raised in surprise "And fucking quit calling me 'sir' now, there's just us in here" another step.

"I'm just-" you shrugged "I'm trying to be professional, that's all"

"Baby we're a little too late for that now"

"Jesus Christ" you pinched the bridge of your nose, he could feel the frustration exhaling from you "You don't like to make things easy, do you?"

"What's the fun in that?" the joke landed flat "I have a proposal"

That got your attention "I don't think I like where this is going"

"Well, that's the thing" he took one more step "I think you do. You fucking grinded on me on this floor until we both came. You want me. What are you so afraid of?"

"You're my fucking boss!" your exasperation made him want to laugh and scream out of frustration at the same time "I like this job, I want to keep it"

"I would never put your job in risk"

"You can't be sure" it was true, Javi barely had a say in anything, but he would do anything in his power for you not to lose your job, especially because of him "And even if this" you pointed between the two of you "didn't make me lose it, it would be living hell if people found out"

"I can be discreet"

You crossed your arms "You're not taking me seriously"

"I am, I promise that I am" he really was "I just- You gave me a taste of what it would look like and now I'm starving for more" he scratched his chin, a little embarressed he let that slip out "I would do anything to have you for one night, we don't have to take work to the bedroom"

"Oh" you snorted "there's a bedroom in the scene now?"

"What?" he raised his brows "You thought I was fucking you in my office?" you went silent "You fucking did"

Javi is no romantic man, he thought about fucking you in every place possible, in the bathroom there, against the nearest wall, but when truly thinking about taking you, it would always be in a bedroom, somewhere you both would be able to take your time.

"Do you fantasize about it?" a step closer "Do you touch yourself thinking about me?" your eyes wouldn't meet his, so he carefully took your chin and angled your head until they did "Where?"

You gulped "Where what?"

"Where did you imagine?" his voice was barely above a whisper.

"Your desk"

"Fucking dirty woman" he smirked "I'm gonna fuck you on my desk, bebita" he took you by the waist, colliding your body to his "And on my couch" his nose traveled from your cheek to your neck "On the fucking window so eveyone can see how pretty you will look with my cock deep inside of you"

"Shit" your voice broke, breathless.

"Do you want it? Huh? To be full of my cock?" you nodded "I want words"

"Yes" you puffed.

"Yes what?"

You looked at him with a defiant look "Yes, sir"

He had to laugh "You are the worst"

His lips collided with yours with so much fierceness he was surprised they didn't start bleeding. His hands were all over your body, your breasts, your back, your ass. You pulled his hair with both hands and he moaned. Javi wanted you so bad it hurt. He decided to be bold and lifted you skirt to your waist, then placed you sitted on the edge of his desk, each of your legs on each side of his hips, pushing everything that was on your way to the floor, paying no attention to anything that wasn't you.

"I hate how you kiss me" you mumbled frustrated between kisses and he pinched his brows.

"You have a very distinct way to hate things"

"You just do it so well" your hands covered his cheeks "Makes me want to do this everyday"

Javi couldn't help but to smirk "I don't see why we can't"

"Yes, you do"

"All I see is a gorgeous woman with tasteful lips" he reached your covered mound and passed a finger through your folds, making you moan loudly ", wet lips" he smirked "telling me she wants to kiss me foverer"

You snorted "I didn't say that"

"That's what I heard"

"You are so cocky" you rolled your eyes.

"Damn right I am" Javi pressed his erection to your thigh.

"Yeah, I felt it yesterday" your hands went to unbuckle his belt, quickly reaching for his cock through his underwear and pumping him a couple of times "You're big, sir"

Javi moaned and threw his head back, enjoying the feeling, barely believing it was finally happening. You put down every piece of cloth in your way to his thighs, put your own panties to the side and started to guide him to your entrance.

"You think is gonna be that easy?" he murmured in your ear, dodging his dick to press on your clit instead, making you moan at the contact, but also groan out of frustration.

"After all this time, it should be"

"You know what I want to hear, baby" he peppered kisses on your neck while still grinding his dick from your clit to your entrance, you were so wet he knew you would have no difficulty to take him.

"Put this thing inside of me, already" you tried to move your hips to get more friction, frustration consuming you.

Even though Javi had a purpose of you to stop calling him 'sir', he could barely hold himself from sliping inside of you, so that's what he did. Your moan as he slowly made space for him inside of you will forever be in his mind. Javi cursed under his breath as your walls squeezed him and he had to take a moment to absorb the feeling. So warm, so wet, so tight, he was in heaven. But you were impatiant.

"Please, move"

"Say my name and I will"

"Why are you so attached to this?" you pinched your brows.

He did the same "Why are you so against saying it?"

You licked a stripe on his neck "To piss you off"

"That's okay" he smirked "You don't have to say it, I'm gonna make you scream it" he held your legs and roughly pushed inside expecting to hit your special place; by the way you gasped and grabbed him, he got it just right "Found it"

Javi ran his nose through your neck and your skin bristled "You're so sensitive here, aren't you, bebita?"

"I'm starting to think that you make me sensitive everywhere"

He laughed and stopped his movements again "Now that's a confession"

"What can I say?" you huffed "It seems like you make my mind go blank when you have your huge dick inside of me and won't. fucking. move"

He laughed and started to slowly take it out just to push it in again at the same speed.

"You're gonna fucking kill me" you whined "Please, faster"

"Are you needy, baby?" he licked your neck "I can feel you squeeze me. You're desperate for my cock, huh?"

"Yes"

"Yes, what?

"Yes, sir"

He increased the speed and you moaned louder "Unbelievable" his hips were reletless and he felt you getting tighter and tighter "You're almost there, aren't you, baby?" you couldn't speak, mouth half opened and nails digging into the skin of his arm "You like it rough, don't you?"

Then he stopped.

"What the fuck?" your voice is hoarsed.

"I'm fucking you slow, baby, is that a crime?" his smile was smudge

"You're evil" you whined, hips moving to find relief.

"I am evil? Who are you to talk about evil? You're fucking teasing me here, bebita. That's so wrong" he started to move slowly again "Just say my name and I'll let you cum"

You nodded your head no.

"Say it"

"No"

"Fucking say. It." he changed the angle to repeatedly hit that spot inside of you and pulled your hair until your back arched.

"Oh my God, Javi!" you screamed as you came hard on his dick, eyes closed tight, mouth opened and body tremblimg.

His name coming out of your mouth was like music to Javi's ears, and hearing it for the first time fomented something insane inside of him. He licked his thumb and pressed it hard against your clit, your eyes widened in surprise and he got a strangled sound out of your mouth as you came again, your body violently shaking under his hands.

"Oh shit, that's it, baby. You're fucking milking me. Shit, shit, shit."

His name was now floating through your lips like a hymn, and he loved to hear it.

"I'm gonna cum"

His words seemed to wake you from your trance "On my mouth"

"Shit" he steped away and out of you and one second later you were on the floor, knelt before him. You grabbed his dick with one hand, put the tip in your mouth and that's all it took for him to cum the hardest he had in his life. You sucked it, greedy until he had nothing more to give you "Let me see it, baby" he asked with a hoarsed voice, asking you to open your mouth, showing that you had swalloed it all "Fucking dirty woman"

You smirked and rested your forehead on his thigh, exausted.

"Come 'ere" he took your hand on his and got you to your feet, holding you against him by your waist "Can you walk?"

"I think I can learn how to do it again, yeah" he chuckled.

Javi lowered your skirt before sitting you on his desk again "How are you getting home?" he asked quietly as he slowly buttoned up your blouse, trying not to startle you and have you running away again.

"I'm taking a cab" you more gently than not stopped his fingers to continue the work yourself.

"Let me take you home" he fished your panties from the floor and put it in his pocked as he wore his pants again

"You don't have to"

"I know I don't. But I'm kind of worried if you will be capable to support yourself for enough time to call a cab after I fucked you this good"

You released the louder chuckle he had ever heard you give as you stood up "You're the absolute worst, Javier."

He started to get hard to the sound of his name on your lips.

"See? Perfectly stable" one of your eyebrows was raised and all he wanted to do was to kiss your attitude away.

"I guess I'll have to fuck you harder next time, then"

"I guess"

You both went quiet as you made your way out of the building and to his car, you only speaking to give him instructions to get to your place.

"There will be a next time, right?" he spoke as you left the car.

How silly of him to think that fucking you once would be enough, would make all the consuming desire go away, if something, it only made him want you more.

You took your time to look at him, as if staring directly to his soul and gave him a small smile.

"Good night, Javi"

#javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena smut #javier pena fanfic #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javi pena #javier pena narcos #narcos fanfiction #javier pena secretary #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #zaddy pedro #pedrohub #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction

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sc0tters · 9 months

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Untouchable | Quinn Hughes

summary: Quinn comes over to your brothers post season party, what happens when you’re there all cozy with another man?

request: yes/no

warnings: mature themes, p in v, mutual masturbation, swearing.

word count: 2.54k

authors note: it might not be Thursday anymore but I didn’t want to have to wait a whole week to get this published. Quinn might not be bad boy Quinn irl but he can be in our hearts.

Your only task for the evening was to behave.

Elias had warned you as he simply requested that you bit your tongue rather than initiating the usual argument that came between you and Quinn.

He truly didn't know what happened between you and his teammate the one night you came to watch his game but something three years ago set the two of you on this path of rivalry.

You were a freshman at the University of British Colombia and had finally found the chance to watch your brother play at home.

In truth you tried to not let the Hughes boy get to you primarily because you thought he was cute, but when he yelled at you for being in his way it started a long line of what your mom referred to as a pissing match between you and Quinn.

It was like you two were siblings with the way you two couldn't say something to the other without it being negative. If you were around in what could have been a remotely happy mood, it wasn't going to be the case for long. You brought a guy to a game once and Quinn literally told him to get away whilst he could.

That isn't to say that you weren't a bitch to him too, shortly after he told your date to hit the road you were quick to get your revenge telling a girl that Quinn had someone back at home waiting for him.

Thankfully for Elias, you two seemed to now be resorting back to comments that were directed at each other.

The reason why you had to behave was because Elias was currently hosting the post season team party and you had been invited.

You were deep in a conversation with Brock when Quinn arrived "you wanna take it easy?" Brock asked in amusement as he watched you chug the rest of your drink.

Quinn's eyes never left you as he took in what you were wearing. The pink sundress that was complimented by your curled hair. You looked really hot as rolled your eyes laughing at whatever Brock said to you.

It brought a weird sense of emotions through him "I've told her to behave tonight," Elias announced as he patted the younger boys shoulder. All Quinn could do was nod "trust that she'll listen," he thought to himself as he went in the direction of more friends as he began to wonder when you became such good friends with the blonde.

An hour, sixty minutes is how long it took you to leave Brock. Not that Quinn was counting though because that would have been weird.

But as you walked inside with nothing but an empty drink the eldest Hughes boy was hot on your tail.

You were completely unaware of his presence until you spun around to see him leaning against the wall "Jesus Christ Quinn," you slapped your hand over your chest as you jumped.

Quinn smirked as he watched your lips press into a thin line "can I help you?" You asked as you cocked your head growing irritated at his smile.

The boy shook his head "just surprised to see you without Brock." He confessed now letting you cross your arms.

It made you giggle at his comment "is little Quinner jealous?" You batted your eyelashes as you smiled.

His laughter bounced off of the kitchen walls "why would I be jealous of him when you're right in front of me?" He pointed out causing your face to drop.

He had a point "where are you going?" He furrowed his eyebrows as he watched you walk passed him "Brock is probably wondering where I am," you smirked as you licked your lips.

It made him scowl "no you're not," he shook his head as he grabbed your hand pulling you back towards him "you aren't the boss of me." You reminded him that he wasn't the one dictating what you did.

Quinn nodded as he thought about what you said "go and I won't bother you again." It wouldn't have been the hardest of things to do in the world, you each already avoided the other like they had the plague.

You contemplated leaving "and if I stay?" Being calculated and thought out was left to Elias when it came to the sibling duties "I'm gonna fuck you so good in your room that you're gonna forget your little Brocks name." The eldest Hughes son knew that he could get jealous, but usually it only happened when the girl was already his.

He also knew that because you were going into your senior year of university you lived with your brother during the breaks when everyone had to be off of campus “I’d like to see you try,” your hand held your can of white claw as you used your other to shove your pointer finger into his chest.

It was like in that very moment the tower of hatred that Quinn had built towards you in his mind was now breaking down.

As he pushed you onto the counter letting his fingers dig into your hips he kissed you like you were the last person on earth. Truthfully Quinn had wanted to do this for a while now and didn’t think you’d give him the chance to be in this position “Elias,” you blurted out as you pulled away.

Your brother was nowhere in sight but that didn’t stop your fears about him showing up “you go upstairs princess and I’ll be up there in a moment,” Quinn explained as he didn’t want anyone to see you two going up at the same time.

He helped you off of the counter giving you one last peck before he placed his hand on your ass giving it a squeeze “someone’s a little desperate,” you teased as you saw him roll his eyes “get up there before I change my mind,” Quinn warned as you giggled finally listening to his request.

You had been in your room for five minutes at that point and you honestly thought that he wasn’t coming anymore “that asshole,” you mumbled you clenched your thighs together wishing that you weren’t turned on by what you heard downstairs.

Certainly not your proudest of moments but you let your two fingers trail under your dress and into your panties as you began to let them circle your clit. It was just your desperate effort to relieve the tension that had built up because there was no was way that you were going to survive sitting downstairs all night “seems like someone couldn’t wait.” Quinn pointed out as he knew which guest room you usually stayed in so he had just let himself in.

You pulled your fingers out from your panties as your eyes went wide “thought you changed your mind,” you explained as you sat up when the boy moved to the side of your bed “didn’t tell you to stop,” he reminded you as he motioned to your panties.

It felt weird how you were literally in the palm of his hand ready to listen to whatever he had to say “let’s get them off so we can see your pretty fingers at work.” The comment could have made you come on the spot as you hooked your fingers into either side of the material and began to shimmy out of them “fuck me you’re soaked.” He blurted out as he was faced with your glistening pussy.

Quinn smiled as your fingers finally listened to his request and began continuing what you were doing prior to his arrival “who are you thinking about as you fuck your fingers?” It was safe that say that you were shocked at how vulgar Quinn was in bed but you couldn’t respond as you continued to get yourself off “answer me princess,” he added as he wrapped his hand around your wrist to slow you down “you Quinn only you.” You gasped as you were desperate to let your fingers move again.

Thankfully the boy seemed to pick up on that desperation as he nodded moving his hand away. But what you couldn’t see was that he was undoing his belt so that he could jack himself off.

The sight of you wasn’t something unfamiliar in his jerk off material list, one year when Quinn came over you were in the garden tanning in what was literally the smallest bikini that you could find in your room “such a pretty sight,” Quinn cooed drawing another moan from your lips.

You were so focused on getting yourself off that the grunts that he was letting out were only increasing your pleasure “if I knew that this is how to get you to shut up, I would have done it a long time ago.” The hockey player was surprised that he found the time to crack a joke amongst all of this.

It caused you to scoff “you don’t even have me yet.” You pointed out as you used all of your power to send him a glare.

Quinn’s facial expressions hardened at the comment “stop,” he motioned to you to retract your hand but that only caused your movements to increase in pace.

The boy had to say that he really didn’t know what to do, so he just wrapped his hand around your wrist and pulled your hand out of you. Quinn brought your fingers up to his mouth as he began to suck on them “how can a girl who’s so bratty taste so sweet?” He asked as he dropped your hand when he grabbed the condom from his wallet.

You smiled as you knew you were winning “I wouldn’t smile like that cause brats don’t get to come,” his warning made your face drop.

But that expression didn’t last long when Quinn began to rub his cock over your clit a few times before he thrusted himself inside of you “fuck you take me so well.” He groaned as he bunched your dress up over your stomach so that he could grab your hips.

It was a feeling you swore was going to leave bruises tomorrow “so big,” you mumbled as you were still adjusting to his size.

That was something the boy seemed to have no desire to let you do as he continued to fuck you in that agonisingly slow pace “please,” you begged as your hands went to the pillow behind you.

The hockey player smiled “what do you want baby?” He asked as he cocked his head enjoying how slow your brain seemed to be working.

You couldn’t seem to find the right words “wanna kiss you,” you explained causing his heart to melt.

It was by far the sweetest thing that you had ever said to him and if he wasn’t balls deep inside of you he would have called you out on it “say please princess.” Quinn was in the mood to be a little shit as he was curious how far he could take your desperation “please Quinny,” your lips formed a pout as the boy wrapped your lips around his waist.

He leaned down as he hooked his one hand behind your neck “sure thing,” the boy muttered deciding that he had enough of teasing you as he let your tongues being the battle that they were in.

The fruity white claw and beer tastes that were on each of your tongues began to merge into one weird tasting flavour as you two continued to make out.

When Quinn groaned into your mouth it caused your core to clench around him “you liking this princess?” He asked with a smirk as he ran his thumb over your lips.

You scoffed “no,” you lied looking away from him as you didn’t want him to see that you weren’t telling the truth.

But instead he just lowered his head to your neck where he began to nip at it causing your hand to lock into his hair “fuck Quinn,” you moaned as your fingers gripped onto his hair.

This was honestly just all too easy for the eldest Hughes boy “if only you let me know how you felt earlier,” he sighed as he let his thumb lazily draw circles on your clit.

You couldn’t help but smile “harder,” it was like a challenge that you were waiting for him to take on.

If he went quicker it would mean that you’d be loud thus a higher chance of getting caught.

Sure it was weird but Quinn was actually really turned on by the idea of you guys getting caught, maybe not by Elias because he’d had to run for his life. But the idea of someone walking past and hearing just how good Quinn made you feel “you gonna be a good girl then?” He taunted you as the pressure he applied on your clit increased but the pace of his cock remained the same.

All you could do was nod “promise I will Quinn I promise.” You cried out and that was all Quinn needed to increase the speed of his thrusts.

Before you knew it your eyes were almost rolling back into your head as the sound of skin slapping bounced off of the walls meaning that it someone was upstairs they were going to hear it “keep this,” you begged as your hand slapped over your mouth as you could feel your high approaching. Quinn used his free hand to move yours away from your mouth “want to hear you ask you come.” He explained as he shook his head making sure that your hand didn’t go back to cover it again.

You began to clench around him at a much more frequent pace “I’m gonna come,” you announced as you looked up at him to see any indication that he didn’t want you to.

Quinn leaned back down as his lips hovered over yours “let go baby,” with than he kissed you as a way to suffocate those moans because as much as he enjoyed them the idea of getting caught by people downstairs was a little bit much for him.

Thankfully for you Quinn wasn’t far behind as your own orgasm seemed to spur his on “my pretty girl did so well,” he was much softer as he looked at you once you both came back to reality.

Before you could respond though there was a knock at your door “y/n you seen Quinn?” Elias asked caused your eyes to go wide. The Hughes boy took his as the perfect moment to slide out of you causing you to glare at him.

You tracked your mind for what to say “why would I know where that dickhead is?” You scoffed letting a smile form on your lips when Quinn sent you an offended look.

Elias didn’t seem to accept your answer “it’s just that Brady said he saw you two talking in kitchen.” You did love the Tkachuk boy but in this very moment you wanted to kill him “never mind he said he had to run to the store.” Your brother added as Quinn had just sent him that message.

Maybe that Hughes boy wasn’t so bad.

#quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes #oneshots #imagines #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #nhl oneshot #hockey imagines #hockey smut #nhl smut #amber writes fics

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wildemaven · 5 months

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saturdays with javier : tied together | javier peña

-> pairing: javier peña x f!reader

-> word count: 3489

-> content warning: 18+ blog; talk of food, feelings of nervousness, alluding to spicy time but I decided to give them some privacy, she likes the tie so it stays, established relationship, reader has zero descriptive features, post Colombia life, if I missed anything please let me know and I’ll add it

-> notes: it has taken me so long to finish this, but I’m glad it’s done! I’ve been in such a writing slump and words haven’t been working well for me. I think my lack of sleep is my main reason so I’ve been working on that— it definitely helped me yesterday. Big thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for being a cheerleader and beta reading this for me!!

series masterlist / main masterlist

“Shit!”

His focus is scattered as he watches his hands work together to secure the tie around his neck, a task he hadn’t done in what felt like years, his nerves not aiding in the dexterous process.

“Cariño, what time do your parents get in again?” He shouts down the hall to you where you’re busy about the kitchen, before refocusing on his reflection in the mirror.

“Their flight lands at 1 pm, and you’re picking them up at Gate 15— Javier, what’s with the tie??” You appear in the doorway, leaning into the frame, your arms crossed watching the nervousness permeate off Javier as he finally settles a knot at the base of his sculpted neck.

“What’s wrong with my tie?” Brows knitted together in question, looking at you then back to his reflection.

“Nothing, it looks good— it’s fine. I just haven’t seen you wear one in, well awhile.” You push off the door frame, maneuvering between Javier and the bathroom counter, your fingers toy with the ends of his tie as you try your best to ease his mind. “It’s just my parents, no need to worry too much. And they love you, with or without a tie.”

“I know, I just—“ He takes in a deep breath, his lungs filling with the calmness you always bring to him, resting his forehead against yours, his hands running the length of your arms. “You’re right. I just get in my head, always thinkin’ they’re gonna find something and decide I’m not enough for you.”

“You’re always enough, Javi— with or without their approval.” Your voice is tentative and soft, dripping in assurance.

His hands find their way under the hem of your skirt, pressing his body ardently into yours. Fingers dancing delicately up your thighs, settling at the curve of your hips. There’s deliberate restraint in his grip on you, wanting nothing more than to haul you onto the counter and slowly pull you apart.

“Javi—“ Breathless and floating. Pulling back just enough to witness the growing want igniting in his eyes. Your hands smooth over the wrinkles in his crisp shirt, securing the knot of his tie firmly at the base of his neck. “Hmm. You should probably get going. You don’t want to keep my parents waiting. But we can always revisit this later.”

“Tell me again why you’re not coming with me to pick them up.” His lips desperately chase after yours.

Javi is your weakness. Giving in to him is an effortless choice. Minutes tick by, floating around the two of you. The kiss meanders through a vast range of intensity. Fluid and velvety, as it edges the border of a sensual climb that you both constantly crave. Realization hitting you first has you halting the flow before things progress past the point of no return.

Javi catches on to your stunted movement. His efforts to subconsciously sway you into calling off your parents so he can stay lost in this moment with you were valiant. He removes his hands from under your skirt, allowing the flowy fabric to fall back into place. Taking a step back, boots clicking on the tiled bathroom floor, his hands resting at his waist, while his labored breathing slowly returns to a comfortable steady rhythm.

“Because— I can’t be in two places at once. I need to get dinner prepped and started, so it’s ready when you get back here with them.” You fix the few of his stray hairs that have fallen out of place. Your fingers tracing down the sides of his handsome face, soothing over the tightness of his clenching jaw.

“We could just order something, then you can just ride with me. Your parents love that little Italian place over on San Dario.” He suggests. Reaching for one of your wrists, your hands are still cradling his face, thumb smoothing over your pulse point as he turns and places a kiss to your palm.

The bathroom fills with your boisterous laugh, your body vibrating as your head falls against his chest.

“What? What’s so funny?” You settle yourself back against the counter, pausing your laughter to wipe the tears from your lashes with the backs of your hands.

“The little Italian place? You mean Olive Garden? Javi, you’re going to be fine, I promise. Listen to some music, enjoy the drive and you’ll be home before you know it.” You grab his arm, twisting his watch face in your direction. “Okay, no more stalling Peña. It’s a two hour drive there, plus the wait— you need to get on the road.”

He releases a heavy sigh into the small space. Palm scrubbing down his face, mentally preparing himself for the long drive and your parents. He watches as you head for the kitchen, stopping at the door and resting your head and hand on the wooden frame as you look back at him.

“You’re enough Javi, always will be.”

The drive is easy enough. 165 miles straight up Interstate 35 will drop him into the heart of San Antonio, according to the directions you wrote out for him on the back of the electric bill envelope. A drive he’s taken many times over his life and has no trouble recalling the exact route as your car travels across the Texas countryside. But he likes— loves —that you care enough to make sure he has every exit and turn written in your pristine all-caps writing, keeping them visible and ready just in case there’s a chance he needs them.

An FM classic rock station and bag of peppered sunflower seeds keep him company most of the 2 and a half hour drive. Yet, even with a string of 80’s ballads crooning through the speakers, Javier still finds little pockets of time to get lost in his thoughts.

Blips of his time in Colombia trickle in from the depths of his mind. A wavering feeling of relief that all of it is behind him meshes with the doubt of whether he did enough or not enough, at the same time.

His grip on the steering wheel tightens. Anger and frustration resurfacing. A nagging turmoil bleeds through him slowly. His teeth gnaw anxiously at his bottom lip. He’s eyed several gas stations in the last 2 miles that he knows are fully stocked with enough nicotine to burn out every bit of anxiousness nagging at him.

Somehow, while you’re busy making dinner hundreds of miles away, you manage to save him from spiraling.

He thinks of you often, how can he not, but especially in moments when his thoughts start to get heavy and dark. Your smile pops into his head and instantly soothes away any oppressive feelings.

The overwhelming airport traffic takes over his train of thought. Maneuvering your little blue Volvo in and around parked cars, taxis and shuttles is an easy task. He glances down to the envelope, checking he’s in the right lane. The gate numbers boldly displayed above the terminal doors as he drives in the direction of the one you have written down, Gate 15.

He’s grateful there’s an open space to park along the curb when he arrives. Glancing at his watch, it’s a little after the 1 pm arrival time, which means your parents should be headed to pick up their bags and on the lookout for Javier to pick them up.

Javier contemplates whether he should wait by the car or snake his way through the crowd of airport goers to greet your parents, grabbing any bags or luggage to help them to the car.

It’s a quick decision, your father’s stone expression the main deciding factor. Another once over of the gate and time to double check he’s in the right spot, then he’s locking the car and venturing in the direction of where your parents will be arriving from.

He runs through a series of greetings as he waits.

Hello, it's good to see you both. Feels too informal for in-laws.

Oh, I’ve missed you both so much, here let me take your bags. Way too enthusiastic, especially for him.

Hello Sir, I love your daughter very much. I plan to spend the rest of my days loving her and showing her how much she means to me. Over the top? Your dad already gave him the approval before he married you— maybe just in case.

Hug? Handshake? A wave of Hello?

He takes a deep breath. Pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He’s overthinking it. He knows your dad likes him. Your dad’s never been crass or rude towards him ever. The complete opposite actually. He’s treated Javier like family since the day you introduced them. Welcoming him into their home with a hand shake, then pulling into a warm hug. Pushing away the doubt and the fear of not being enough in your fathers eyes.

Your words washing over him— You’re enough Javi, always will be —he believes you.

“Well, well. If it isn’t Javier Peña, in the flesh!”

An all too familiar voice catches him off guard, pulling him from his thoughts of your parents and greeting scenarios.

“Steve?” Steve Murphy. Standing in front of him, shouldering a worn leather duffle bag and a carryon at his feet. He looks like a day hasn’t passed since they had last seen each other years ago. The wedding?

“Thought we did away with the ties and suits, buddy. Ya heading to some kind of meetin’?” Steve, dressed in a polo shirt and blue jeans, flicks at the navy tie you had bought him a few years back.

“No, I’m picking up my in-laws. They should be here any minute.” He nods in the direction of the baggage claim, then looking down as his hands smooth down the tie in a presentable position.

“Is that the story she went with?” Steve says with a hearty laugh, readjusting his bag strap.

“What do you mean? What story?” There’s a flash of confusion in Javier’s eyes. Head tilting and forehead creased as he tries to make sense of what Steve has said.

“You aren’t pickin’ up your in-laws. You’re pickin’ up me— Surprise!” Steve seems thrilled at how stunned Javier must look at the realization of what is happening. “I’ve got some business to do here in Texas for a bit. Connie mentioned it when they were havin’ their weekly phone call. I had a few free days, so she planned for you to pick me up so we can catch up.”

“She didn’t say anything about you coming.” Javier thinks back over the last few weeks, trying to remember if you had and he just forgot.

“No shit. That’s the whole point of a surprise, Javi. Good to see ya partner.” He throws an arm around Javier’s shoulders, giving his back a few good pats. Steve steps back a bit, his hand resting on Javier’s shoulder. “We gonna just stand here and catch up or can we go get somethin’ to eat. The plane food sucks and I’m fuckin’ starvin’.”

Steve pulls the handle up on his wheeled carryon and begins walking towards the exit. Javier turns on his heels, a bit of relief settling in. Smiling at how you were able to not only pull this off, but had him convinced your parents were coming and let him worry about it for weeks.

“Yeah, the cars parked right outside.” He calls out to Steve, shuffling through the bodies that put a little distance between the two of them.

Javier finds Steve leaning against the trunk of your car, having recognized it was yours from the few times he and Connie havevisited over the years.

“How’s Connie and Olivia? We got the pictures— she’s gotten big since we last saw her.” Javier asks as he pops the truck, grabbing Steve’s bags off the sidewalk, moving things around so they’re secure among the other things you store back there.

“They’re good. Connie wants to plan for us all to come out for a visit sometime. Maybe after the holidays or somethin’, when work slows down. Maybe we can go duck hunting? Like old times.” He says watching Javier over his shoulder play Tetris with his bags and the trunk contents.

“I’m not going fuckin’ duck hunting, you goddamn Hillbilly.” Shutting the trunk and making his way to the driver's seat. Steve, amused with himself follows, suit on the other side of the car.

It takes a few minutes to weave the car through the growing traffic and out of the airport madness.

“You gonna wine and dine me all dressed up like that, Peña?” Steve asks comfortably from the passenger seat.

“Yeah, there’s a little Italian place on the way.” Javier chuckles, looking over to Steve who’s wearing a shit-eating grin. He shakes his head, not realizing how much he missed his old friend.

“Oh! Authentic?” Excitement sparks in Steve’s voice.

“No— Olive Garden.”

“Asshole.”

It’s a few hours later when Javier drops Steve off at his hotel across town. Plans to meet up in the morning for breakfast at the little cafe with the best coffee in town. Javier promises to not show up before 9 am, so Steve can sleep in a few extra hours to shake off the jet lag. Javier pockets his sarcastic comment about how old Steve is getting until tomorrow when they’re deep into their breakfast burritos and a few cups of coffees in.

Things look quiet in the house when he parks your car in the driveway. The night sky now prominent and bold, a stark contrast from the harsh sun when he left earlier in the day. The soft glow coming from the bedroom windows must mean you’ve already begun to settle in for the evening, waiting for Javier’s return home.

Javier immediately rids himself of his stuffy suit jack the moment he’s inside, laying it over the back of the couch, a problem for tomorrow morning while he’s killing time waiting to meet up with Steve. He runs through his usual evening routine as he makes his way into the house. Front doors locked, window curtains closed and keys hung on the little hook by the door. The kitchen is clean and quiet, no sign of any cooking you had been talking about anywhere in sight. He fingers through the stack of mail that must have come while he was out, mostly bills he can deal with at a later time in the week.

The soft brilliance radiating from your bedroom pours out into the hallway, guiding the way for Javier. A beacon of light after a long day of driving. You are his final resting place.

Hands settled into his pockets, he shoulders himself quietly against the door frame. Movements still as he watches you, not wanting to announce his arrival right away. You’re bathed in the glow of the table lamp, propped up by the pillows and wrapped in your favorite robe, bare legs crossed over the plush comforter. It looks like you have made a decent dent in the book you had mentioned wanting to read when you found a chance— he can’t wait to hear you tell him your thoughts on it when you finish it.

“How’d it go, Javi.” You’ve already sensed his presence without a glance in his direction. Turning the page, a devilish smirk slides over your face.

“Funny thing about that, Amor. I got to the airport and I ran into an old friend. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” He asks as he makes his way to the dresser, discarding his watch and wallet into the small tray, where they are kept for the night.

“Hmmm. Would this old friend resemble someone who is actually a dear friend and answers to Steve?” You fold the corner of the current page you’re on. Closing the book and placing it on your nightstand. You watch Javier loosen the knot of his tie with two fingers, freeing the top button that you know irritates him fiercely. “Were you surprised?”

“Very. A little relieved, too.” You shift your legs over allowing him room to sit. His hand wraps around your ankle before you can move them too far out of his reach. His palm is warm against your cool skin.

“Good. It was hard to keep it a secret. I made Connie and Steve promise me they wouldn’t tip you off. And your dad knows you’ll be busy the next few days while Steve is here, I told him about it when he came over for dinner earlier.”

“It was a great surprise. But you didn’t need to keep it a secret. I’m sure Steve would have loved to have you come along, too.” His hand glides softly up and down the length of your leg, finally settling where your robe stops mid-thigh.

“Well, you work too hard, Javi. I think the last time you took an actual vacation was our honeymoon and that was years ago. I think some time alone with your friend was needed, even if it took me doing a little scheming behind the scenes to make it happen.”

He knows you’re right. It has been a while since he had let himself take some time for himself. He likes staying busy. The weekends are reserved mostly for time with you. Weekdays he’s pushing through the tiredness and running on coffee while he helps his Pop as he transitions into taking over operations of the ranch and cattle— Chucho no longer able to do it himself as he gets older.

Maybe he should take more time off like this. Even in the short time from when he picked Steve up at the airport to dropping him off at the hotel, he enjoyed himself more than he thought he would.

“I can hear you debating with yourself on this. You deserve it, Javier. It’s just a few days, let yourself enjoy them completely. The ranch will be waiting for you when you’re done.” You tell him, all sincere and honest. You shift yourself forward next to where Javier is sitting. Your legs folded under you, arms wrapped around his neck, fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Okay. I’ll enjoy it.” He releases a heavy sigh into the air.

“I have another surprise for you…” Your lips curl inward, trying to hold back your bubbling laugh as you watch Javier’s eyes roll playfully.

“Querida, I don’t think I can handle any more surprises today.” He groans, pulling you over to him so you're now straddling his lap. His forehead rests on your collarbone, your fingernails running lightly over his scalp.

“My parents are coming at the end of the month. They’re staying for a week. My dad said he wants to take you golfing— something about showing you how good his swing is.” You murmur against the top of his head.

“Baby, I don’t know how to golf. I’m going to have to bullshit my way through it, and I don’t know how convincing it will look.” He pouted. He moans at the sensation of your nails scratching at his scalp a little harder.

“Javi, I’m just kidding.”

“Thank god.” Relieved he doesn’t have to bullshit his way through 18 holes and several hours stuck on a golf course.

“Only about the golfing part— they’re still visiting.”

“That’s enough out of you, Amor.” Grabbing your hips, he’s flipping you both so you're lying beneath him on your bed. Your legs wrap around his narrow waist, drawing him down closer to you, his lips finding yours instantly.

“Let me get these clothes off real quick.” He stands to his full height, beginning to work at the knot of his tie.

“Leave the tie.” You purr as your foot rises up to his chest and presses against his hands, halting his movements. You pull at the belt of your robe, revealing your naked self to him, barely catching the way his breath hitches at the sight of you bared to him. “I get casual Javi every night, seeing you in this tie today was a fun change. I think I want Agent Peña tonight though.”

He’s on you in an instant. Hands roaming over your body, soft and riddled with goosebumps. Hips settling firmly against yours, an experimental thrust has you gasping and tingling with anticipation. The lightest nips to your jaw. His breath is hot across your face as he finds your lips again. Deepening the kiss in a desperate manner. Your whimpers and the way you chant his name like your favorite song nearly takes him out. His grip on your thigh is delicate but demanding in the most intimate way. Your back arching into his touch, craving more. You always crave more.

“Baby, I’ll give you whatever you want.” He whispers into the kiss. And he will give you everything.

#javier peña #javier peña x you #javier peña x reader #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x female reader #saturdays with javier #pedro pascal #wildemaven writes #pedrostories

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pedropascalsx · 10 months

Text

Yours for the Weekend. {Javier Pena x F! Reader}

Summary: Javier returns to Laredo for a Long Weekend after being informed by HR he must use up his paid time off.

Warnings: A little angst, age-gap dynamic, kissing, nothing sexual in this chapter but marked explicit for future chapters. Reader has no physical descriptions.

Word Count: 3.2k

Chapter: 1 of 3.

A/N: Had this idea yesterday and wasn’t able to put it down. A huge thank you to the amazing @frannyzooey for editing, making the most helpful suggestions and being an incredible cheerleader. I am super grateful for you!

His nose scrunches up at the smell of freshly mowed grass and burning asphalt as the piping hot Laredo sun blazes down on it.

He was home. Kind of.

After working tirelessly and refusing to take any time off for months, HR had no choice but to demand he at least take a long weekend. Back to Texas, to see his Dad and spend the next few days tackling the jobs Chucho wasn’t able to do by himself, before rushing back to Colombia.

It had been just over a year since he last walked the familiar streets of home, ignoring the harsh whispering or the unwelcomed praises of their hometown hero. He’s never really sure of what he hates the most, the digs about how heartless he was to leave his high school sweetheart at the altar or the constant droning of how he is a hero; tackling drug crime with both hands at the expense of his own happiness.

After a while it became white noise, constantly crackling in the background and itching his brain in a place that he could never scratch. He has no doubt that this visit will be the same.

His cab pulls up to the Peña family ranch with Chuchos truck nowhere in sight. Javier pays the driver, insisting he keep the change as a tip before going to the back to grab his bag from the trunk. Knowing his dad would have made a fuss and insisted he pick him up from the airport, he hadn’t told Chucho he was coming back, and Javi didn’t want him to undertake any more unnecessary tasks so decided a surprise would be best.

Unlocking the door and stepping back inside the house he called home for most of his life is a feeling that he never fails to appreciate. The smell, the exact same furniture his mom and dad had picked out many years before and the sense of security is something rare that he allows himself to enjoy. A brief moment of serenity before he convinces himself he’s not a good enough man to enjoy the simple things.

The time of day and lack of food in the house alerts Javier to his Pops location. No doubt sipping an ice cold beer and chowing down on whatever special Rita has scrawled out on the chalkboard that sits slanted at the end of the bar. Food sounds good. He thinks to himself briefly before scrambling in the junk drawer for the set of keys to the spare truck that only gets used when Javier comes back into town.

‘Everything stays the same,’ he hums to himself as he pulls up to the bar, the sight of Chuchos truck making him chuckle as he parks up next to it.

Loud and unsurprisingly busy, he weaves through the crowd with his head down to go unnoticed, the corner of his mouth turning up as he spots his Pops in his usual seat chatting happily to Rita at the bar.

“Well, if it isn’t my lucky day!” Rita says with a beaming smile, “Both handsome Peña men in my bar at once! You never told me Javier was back in town.” She scowls at an equally surprised Chucho.

“I didn’t know myself!” He exclaims before pulling his son in for a hug. “What are you doing here?”

“Had a few days to kill,” he says before pulling back, with the first genuine smile on his face for longer than he cares to admit, “Figured you’d be here as soon as I opened the fridge.”

“Best chow in town,” Chucho remarks with a wink. “Sit down.”

Wordlessly Rita hands Javi a beer and then shouts to the kitchen to add another special to Chuchos order, “On the house.”

“How long this time?” Chucho asks before taking a sip of his beer, his arm resting happily on the top of Javis back.

“Long weekend.” It doesn’t take long until people are coming over and thanking Javi for his hard work in Colombia and letting him know how proud they are of their ‘hometown hero.’

“Leave him alone,” a soft voice calls out, immediately grabbing Javi’s attention. He watches as she balances two plates with an insane amount of sides on a large tray. “Let him eat in peace,” she warns the room of patrons with a stern look.

“Thanks dear,” Chucho chimes in as you place a plate in front of him and then one in front of Javi. Adding the sides between them both. “Enjoy, let me know if y’all need anything else.”

“Thank you,” they both reply in unison, making you smile before heading back into the kitchen and grabbing your next set of plates.

“How much longer do you think you’ll be out there?” Chucho asks, knowing that he’s unlikely to be happy with Javier's answer.

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly, “Depends on the DEA I guess. Lots of work to do.”

“Mhmmm,” Chucho hums in response, digging into his enchiladas and deciding on having a lighter conversation.

“We should stop for groceries on the way home,” Javi remarks before taking a large chug of his beer, “Maybe grill up some steaks tonight and have leftovers for lunch tomorrow. The fence outback is fucked… we can work on it in the morning, get as much fixed before I head back out there.”

“Sounds like a hell of a rest you’re planning for yourself there, mijo.”

Every now and then you appear from the kitchen, a wide smile spread across your face as you hand out dishes and serve beer. And every so often you catch a glimpse of him, seemingly unsure of himself as he sips his beer and eats his food. Clearly aware that much of the focus on the room is on him. Not all of it good.

You’ve been there. In a similar situation where the small minded folk of this never changing town whisper loudly about your indiscretions, your mistakes and intimate parts of your life that none of them have a right to know. It makes your heart ache as you wonder if that’s what really sent him running.

You’d heard bits and pieces about what happened, the town had gathered for what was likely to be a beautiful wedding, the church filled with excited guests eagerly awaiting to toast the happy couple but it never happened. He had cold feet and confessed that she deserved better, she deserved to marry someone that wanted the life that she wanted and it simply wasn’t him. He left town shortly after that and began his work with the DEA.

It didn’t take long for the woman to move on and marry someone else but even after all these years, people still hold a grudge, a grudge that you now knew personally.

You lean across the bar quietly, counting your tips and preparing to clock out for the end of your shift before catching a glimpse of him again. A small smile sits on his face as his Dad vividly tells him a story, and before you have a chance to look away his eyes flash upwards and meet yours. Both of your eyes linger for a few seconds before your attention is ripped away by a customer demanding another beer, and you graciously oblige.

The sound of barstools scrapping has you looking up again, watching as the Peña men gather their belongings and leave payment and a generous tip on the bar for you.

“See you tomorrow, querida,” Chucho calls over to you, “If you could add Javi down for the quiz that would be much appreciated.”

“Of course, Chucho. It was nice seeing you again.” You say, looking over at him and watching his face contort in confusion as he clearly begins trying to work out when and where you’d met before.

“She’s a good girl,” Chucho remarks as they walk towards their trucks, “Made a decision similar to one of your own, but didn’t have the means to leave town.”

“I can't place her,” Javi admits with a hum, wondering what decision you had made.

“Sirenita,” Chucho says with a hearty chuckle, “The youngest Juarez girl.”

“Oh shit,” Javi says, raising his eyebrow, remembering the nickname that had stuck, because you were always clutching a mermaid doll as a girl.

The sun is no longer uncomfortably hot as Chucho turns the steaks on the grill, watching Javi silently plate up the precooked sides they had picked up from the store.

“Other than that fence what else can we tackle before I head home? I was thinking we could replace the railings out front before I go… They’re not as steady as they should be, and don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’re relying on them more than ever.”

“Eat.” His dad replies ignoring his son's concerns. “I’m.. I’m glad you’re back, mijo,” he sighs, “Even if it’s just for a few days. I miss having you around.”

“It’s good to be back,” he half lies, he’s happy to see his father, happy to have the security that the four walls behind him provide, just not looking forward to the very real possibility of running into the ghosts of his past that seem hellbent on haunting his future.

“We should have just walked,” Javi scoffs as he attempts to find a space to park outside Rita’s. “I forgot how busy this place can get.”

“If you didn’t spend so much time making yourself pretty, we would have gotten here with plenty of time to find a space.” Chucho remarks before pointing out a spot just a little further down the road.

They both hop out of the truck and slowly meander towards the bar, watching the small crowd of people disappear inside, “Before we go in,” Chucho says, “You’ve got to realize that the work you do down in Colombia means a lot to the folks up here. Shake their hands when they come up to you, accept the compliment and take a sip of your beer. You’re like Santa Claus to some of these people. A rare sight. And they just want to thank you.”

“Pop—.”

“No, Javier, I know you hate it, I know it’s why you dragged your heels about coming tonight but just take it in your stride. For me.”

Javier nods a few times before bringing his hand to the top of Chuchos back, leading him towards the bar and taking a large inhale as he enters the bar and headfirst into the chaos.

He does as his father asks, shakes some hands, gracefully denies the offers to buy him a beer and makes his way through the crowd with a smile plastered across his face.

“No, Chucho! Not there!” Your voice calls out from the side of them, “Figured the guest of honor would prefer a booth that’s a little more out of the way than your usual haunt.” As you point to the booth at the very end of the bar, situated next to the makeshift stage that you’ll be calling out the questions from.

“Thank you, Chucho,” say as he greets his usual quiz team, watching with glee as they all greet Javi and give him their thanks and well wishes.

“Two beers?” You ask Javi, who’s looking at you with a grateful smile.

“Yes please… Sirenita.” He smirks.

“Ugh,” you groan, “Did you figure it out or did Chucho give you a heads up.”

“My Pops,” Javi admits with a shrug, “I-uh- I’m sorry I couldn’t place you. It’s been a long time since I saw everyone.”

“Don’t apologize, I was still a kid when you left. Now I’m all grown and thankfully that terrible nickname has since been retired by the folks here.” You say with a giggle. “I’m sure you’ll hear that I’ve joined you in the highly exclusive ‘Lotharios of Laredo’ club.”

He doesn’t have time to respond before you’re making your way back through the crowd and collecting two ice cold beers.

By the time you make it back Javier is deeply engaged in conversation with one of his fathers friends, answering question after question about the Escobar operation with a slightly uncomfortable ease.

“Good evening folks,” you say, before rolling your eyes at the enthused cheers from the audience, “Rita is on security duty, so if y’all even try cheating… Well lord, I, myself, will pray for y’all to have a speedy recovery. 30 questions. 3 highest scoring teams will win a prize. Let’s go!”

15 questions and multiple arguments across the table later a short intermission is called for bathroom breaks and beer refills. Javier sits quietly at the table watching you for a few moments. You’re still on the ‘stage’ and going through the sheets of paper with the next set of questions written on them. With a final chug of his beer, he pushes himself out of the booth and takes a few short steps towards you.

Clearing his throat he waits patiently for you to look up, “You okay there?” You ask with a smile, that makes his chest feel warm and fuzzy.

“Uh, yeah, I was just curious…” He says with a shrug, “This ‘exclusive club’, how exactly did a nice girl like you get inducted to it?”

“Maybe I’m not a nice girl,” you tease with a wink, “Tale as old as time. Childhood sweetheart arranges the ‘perfect proposal’ in front of the flower stand at the farmers market so basically the whole town can witness it and so I couldn’t say no.”

“Oh, shit… but you did? You did say no?” He asks with a twist of his lips.

“No, no, I said yes. But after booking a venue and trying on countless amounts of hideous gowns I couldn’t take it anymore and called the whole thing off, only to find out that his Mom had sent the invitations I wasn’t aware had even been made.”

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, “That shit with paired with people's small town mentality isn’t fun.”

“It’s okay,” you say honestly, “They whisper about me more than you now, so at least this visit shouldn’t be so bad.”

“We will see,” he chuckles before Chucho slides up next to him and hands him another bottle of beer, “Anyway I best go back to my seat, keep this one from causing chaos.”

“Yeah. You should really keep an eye on that one,” you giggle, before scrunching your nose up at Chucho and grinning as he bops you on it.

The rest of the evening goes by without a hitch, you find yourself stealing more glances at Javier, unable to ignore just how handsome he is and you catch him looking back at you a few times. Both of you simply smile at each other when you do.

You announce the winners, happily to see the Peñas team came in third so have won a round of beers that they all seem thrilled about.

“Okay, I am asking everyone as nicely as I can,” you say with an inhale, “As I am the only one staying on to clean up tonight, please don’t leave your tables too cluttered tonight. Now go! Leave! Get home safely.”

“They work you too hard,” Chucho says with a shake of his head, “You shouldn’t be clearing up by yourself. Me and Javi will stay.”

“No,” you won’t, you say with a head shake of your own, “Your back has been giving you trouble all week. Go home, Chucho.”

“She’s right, old man,” one of Chuchos friends says with a chuckle, “You’d just get in the way.”

“I can help though,” Javi interjects, before turning to Mitch, “If you can drive my Pops home, I’ll stay and we will get it down in half the time.”

“You really don’t need-,”

“I know,” he says before tilting his head and leaning towards you and whispering, “But us ‘lotharios’ should look out for one another.”

“Fine,” you say with a scoff, “But lunch for both of you is on me tomorrow. It’s Chuchos favorite barbecue.”

You’re surprised at just how quickly you work together, you wash the plates and throw out the large collection of beer bottles as he clears the tables.

“Could you stack the stools on the bar?” You ask, seeing that he’s finished with the tables. “I don’t vacuum until the morning, but it’s just easier to move them up the night before.”

“Sure… How long have you been working here?” He asks, as he lifts up the first stool.

“Around six months… Rita hired me after the wedding shit. I wanted to pay back the deposits that his family had spent. I don’t need that shit hanging over my head.” You murmur, “People just love to throw that stuff back in your face around here… Figured if I paid it back, they couldn’t.”

“Smart,” Javi murmurs, “You back living with your parents?”

“No.” You shake your head and place the final glass into the pallet before stepping out of the kitchen. “They barely talk to me, still furious over the whole thing. I live in the apartment above the bar. Rita really helped me out.”

“Mhmm,” he hums, “Yeah, I’m not surprised. She was never on board with me marrying Lorraine… I’m glad I don’t have to worry about you getting home,” he says with a kind smile.

“No, just up the stairs. Thank you for staying and helping though. I really appreciate it.”

“Yeah. No problem. I won’t be sleeping for a bit anyway, and Chucho will be snoring by the time I get back.”

You finish up the rest of the clearing up with small talk, telling him the story of a few weeks back when Chucho had the entire bar participating in the most horrendous rendition of ‘La Bamba’ known to man and grinning at the way Javi snorts with laughter.

Noticing it’s the first time that he looks genuinely relaxed, the smile on his face soft and not stiff. He looks younger, just as handsome but his big brown eyes shine a little brighter.

“Do you want to stay for coffee? Or a whiskey? Whatever you’d prefer.” A voice that sounds eerily like yours asks.

He stares at you for a few seconds, weighing up his options before looking down and shaking his head, “I better not. It’s not that I don’t want to… But it’s better for you if I don’t.”

“Oh,” you say, nodding your head before shaking it. “Why?”

“You already know how people talk,” he says with a shrug, “A whole bunch of people saw me offer to stay and help you clear up. You don’t deserve—.”

“I stayed,” you scoff, “If I cared about what people thought of me, I would have left. I would have found somewhere, but it’s fine, Javier, if you don’t want to stay… don’t.”

“I said that it’s not because I don’t want to,” he repeats as you round the bar. Stepping toward him until you’re practically toe to toe.

“Then stay,” you whisper, watching as his restraint snaps and whimpering as his hand shoots out behind your hand and drags you closer to him. His mouth covers yours in a needy kiss. He groans as he captures moans of your own, swallowing them down as he presses you up against the bar.

He’s only here for the weekend after all.

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chronically-ghosted · 5 months

Text

there ain't enough room in this Pontiac for the two of us

rating: E for Explicit! 18+

word count: 8K

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

summary: 1. No sex. 2. No touching yourself. 3. No orgasms. 4. No murdering your annoying DEA partner. (A Javier Peña-shaped rift on this iconic fic)

tags/warnings: smut, dubcon/noncon elements, hand jobs (f receiving), no use y/n, javi being sexually frustrating as hell, time period compliant sexism (not from Javi)

a/n: please go read the original fic. Her’s is far superior to mine and this is but a shameful hollow echo.

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Bogota

11:23PM

Back before you willingly and eagerly joined the special task force between several unruly government organizations created with sole and express purpose to hunt down and catch the cartel king Pablo Escobar – before you applied to the DEA on the highest recommendation of your law professor, your criminal psychology professor, and the dean of admission, all whom believed your talents, (despite the unfortunate accident that you were a woman) would have a deep and profound impact on catching those responsible for the deaths of thousands worldwide – hell, even before you applied to Stanford and you spent your free time oscillating between color guard, JROTC, and retaking your practice SATs and ACTs until you got nearly a perfect score so that the realization that you didn’t have one single friend in the world to distract you from your single-minded almost obsessive focus to prove yourself, despite all your faults –

Before all of that –

If someone had discreetly taken you by the arm, gently sat you down, and told you what a perfect and deluded idiot you would make of yourself on a seven hour stake out on a dark, rainy night in the capital of Colombia, well, you probably would have laughed them out the door.

You aren’t one really predisposed to bouts of uncontrollable, side-splitting, “I’m laughing so hard I’m afraid to take a breath out of fear of the noise that’s going to come out of my nose” laughter, but if someone allowed you to take a good, long, healthy look at one of your more unhealthy habits – that, of course, being your almost toxic levels of competitive behavior – you might have been prone to at least one giggle.

The thing was, you really didn’t lose. Ever. You didn’t back then and you don’t now and your tenacious, unbreakable will made you not only a formidable and dogged DEA agent, but it also (and perhaps more importantly) made you a social, professional, and absolutely mental equal to men like Javier fucking Peña.

Javier Peña, whom women would literally melt into a puddle around, whom men would clamor over themselves just to get a drink with. He’s just so fucking cool, you overheard one of the office interns mutter to another, just look at him. That was also the day you spilled coffee down your entire blouse because you squeezed your styrofoam coffee cup too hard, but that was an entirely unrelated matter.

Whatever sway Peña seemed to inflict over the panties of every woman in the building, you resolutely stayed immune. When you first joined, it had been easy to avoid him. So much so, you were completely flummoxed when the man with the name you’d heard whispered in the hallways, finally made his way over to your side of the building for a meeting with your boss. He walked in with a badly-fitted suit, bags under his eyes, the reeking stench of day-old cigarettes, but by the reactions of the phone girls, you’d thought Elvis himself had just emerged from his coffin and began performing “Hound Dog” topless in bedazzled pants.

This? This is “The Guy”? The guy that women on your floor would spend their entire lunch breaks in the bathroom comparing stories over – “yes, Kathy, I heard his dick really is that huge!” “Yes, Shannon swears he made come for hours just with his tongue!”

Him?

Really?

Was it just slim pickings between married men and wheezing senators?

Never meet your heroes, I guess.

That was back in the late 80s. Back before the bombings and the kidnappings and the mutilated bodies of journalists.

Things had changed. Significantly.

Once things had gotten – let’s just say, dire – the agency started moving around teams, prioritizing certain missions over others. Which meant not only were you taken off a case you had just spent the better part of a year and a half building, but you were reassigned to a new team. Co-led by the one and only Javier. Fucking. Peña.

Now, Javier didn’t like the rain, especially not after a seven hour stake out. You knew this because every time it rained, he stormed into the pen, snorting like an enraged bull, his hair wet and his shoulders damp. Why the man couldn’t just simply go out and pick up an umbrella, you didn’t feel the need to ask. But it set your teeth on edge that a grown adult would be so annoyed by something that had such a simple solution. More than once you thought about hurling your own umbrella like a javelin at him, but your fighting matches had become legendary around the office and you refused to be provoked again by Javier’s own arrogance.

But that’s what started all of this, right?

You, with your white-hot competitive streak, and him, with his over-inflated ego, clashed again and again – until finally about the one thing both brought you a sense of pride: your sex lives.

Annoyingly, this was proving more difficult than you anticipated.

Thumbing the rim of your third lukewarm coffee of the night, you sigh, long and loud, not entirely regretful of the choices that led you here, but simply rather irked that someone had come along and finally proved to be a real challenge.

“Shut it.”

“Excuse me?”

Javier, who had been sitting next to you for the better part of the past seven hours, his long legs tucked up around the bulky wheel of the black Pontiac Firefly the agency had rented for this mission, continues to scowl through the dark and the rain at the spot where you had tracked one of Pablo’s higher ranking enforcers. A gambling den on the first floor, and a brothel in the basement, most men you tailed here spent only a few hours betting and fucking, before wandering back home, probably a little drunk and significantly less horny. But this guy – fuck – did he have the stamina of an Olympic athlete?

What had begun as a quick follow up to some intel your team received earlier in the week had turned into one of the longest and most unbearable nights of your life.

“I said, shut it.”

Your mouth drops open. “I am literally just breathing, Javier.”

“Yeah and you’re doing it too loud.” He takes a sip from the coffee between his legs then resumes his hunched, crossed arm position. “It’s annoying.”

Huffing, you sink lower in your seat, as much as the surveillance equipment and evidence boxes around your legs would allow.

“This is so stupid,” you grumble.

“This is basic DEA work, sweetheart. If you can’t cut it, I’m sure I can find someone – literally anyone – else to take your spot. Sarah’s always been eager to spend some extra time alone with me. Or what about Mac? You two get along right? Who am I kidding? You get along with e-e-everyone–,”

It is infuriating he knows exactly where to poke and prod to supercharge your competitiveness as well as your jealousy.

“I’m not talking about the sting, Javier! I’m talking about your need to always be in control. I’m talking about how, just because you can’t get your fucking rocks off, you’ve been sniping at everyone in the building.” You scowl and lean as far away from him as you can in the cramped hatchback. “Making everyone’s lives hell because you haven’t gotten your dick wet in a month.”

“Oh, sure, I’m the only one being a fucking nuisance in the office,” he sneers, scratching at his forehead with his thumbnail. “After your little meltdown at the copier machine, I think Mark from accounting would rather fist-fight God than have to ask you for a stapler again.”

You snatch up the used napkins in the cupholder between you and shred it to pieces. You chuck the little bits at him as you snap back,

“The. Stapler. Was. Right. There! He. Was. Being. Stupid!”

“Stop it! You’re going to get it in my coffee!”

With a snarl, you hurl the mangled rest of the napkin at him and he swats it out of the air. It rolls over the dashboard, fluttering in the AC that was doing absolutely nothing to combat the sticky humidity.

He did this to you. He always did this to you. Made you feel like a silly child, an overly emotional brat, for pointing out things he did time and time again. Why was he allowed to get away with it and you weren’t?

In the temporary silence, the rain patters loudly on the roof of the car. Headlights emerge from the gloom and disappear as the few unlucky caught out in this deluge run from awning to awning with magazines, newspapers, or umbrellas tucked over their heads. It had been raining for hours and it seemed to have no intention of stopping anytime soon.

You aren’t sure which irritates you more: the humidity or the stickiness gathering on the crotch of your panties.

It had been there for days, constant, a reminder, no matter how often you changed them out for some temporary escape. Your thighs tightened as close as they could, but a large storage box split your legs apart.

“You know,” Javier begins softly, almost contrite, gentle in a way you’d never heard before. He's pinching the edge of his coffee cup with his fingers, resolutely not looking at you. “If this bothers you so much, you can just quit. Call it off. No hard feelings.”

You snort. He really is the most ridiculous man alive.

“Yeah? You’d get the satisfaction of finally coming, after being hard for at least – what, a month, month and a half? – and half my next paycheck? I don’t think so.” You adjust in your seat, your left hip starting to ache from the position you’ve been maintaining for seven hours. “Well, the money’s one thing. But I think I’d rather be physically shot than have to listen to you parade around the office, gleefully spilling secrets about me as your latest conquest, bragging to all your little buddies around the water cooler how you finally bested that bitch in the bullpen. At that point, I’d rather we just actually fuck. At least that way I can finally understand what the fuck has the secretaries all in a goddamn hissy fit over.”

After nearly a third of the day spent next to you, he finally tears his gaze away from the target and looks at you. His dark eyebrows drawn down, plush lips frowning, he’s unnervingly serious. You wonder if you actually managed to make him genuinely angry.

“I wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t brag about you to anyone, even if you lost. And I especially would never if you let me fuck you.” Let me? Now that’s a turn of phrase you definitely won’t spend hours thinking about. His frown deepens as he glances down to his coffee cup. “People – women – like to talk, but I never say anything, to anyone. I don’t encourage it, but it feels like I’m the one being checked off a list. Like I’m a space on a fucking bingo card. It’s rude.”

Gobsmacked into silence, you watch as he cranks down the window for just enough space to chuck his (and yours) empty coffee cups out onto the wet road beside the car. You let him tug it out of from between your legs without a single line of snark.

Your brain finally comes back online when the window squeaks back into place.

Hang on a second – did you really just feel bad for the office casanova? That little shit manipulated you into actually feeling sorry for the dozens of women he willingly brings home then turns out like used toilet paper. You can feel that decades old hate and disgust crack open and boil in your stomach.

“Well, hey, Javi, here’s an idea. Just stop fucking the women you work with. If it bothers you so much, then stop fucking women entirely!”

“I did! I have done that and I am!” He gestures wildly with his hands, palms out as if in supplication. “Everyone in the office – including Noonan, I’m pretty sure – knows about this stupid fucking bet and for once, it’s been great to have an excuse to not have to hold up my expectation of being a great lay!”

You will not allow yourself the time to fully process the idea that not only is Javier Peña grateful to not have to fuck a skirt, but it’s you he’s doing it for, so you snarl back, as you always do.

“Then what? What’s got you so fucking wound up, if your poor dick needs a break from getting sucked?”

With a groan that starts somewhere in his lower ribcage, he falls forward into the steering wheel, his forehead on the rim.

“I’m not saying that, alright? It’s actually been nice to have my bed to myself for a bit. But Jesus Christ, I miss pussy.”

Don’t.

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about the way he says it. Like it’s holy.

The warmth of the humidity in the car ratchets up as your heart starts to race, your palms sweat. You wonder vaguely if there’s condensation on the inside of the windows. He shouldn’t be allowed to get you so wet by just saying the word. You swallow, clawing back that familiar anger until you feel in control again.

“So then go get it.” You wave your hand around the dark streets of Bogota. “Just go out there and end this thing once and for all. God knows I’m sick and tired of having to listen to you roll around, grunting and huffing, with a hard-on so big I can almost hear it.”

“What are you so mad at me for?” He snaps up, a much more palatable rage in his eyes. “All of this – the bet, the rules, the fact that you actually included wet dreams – you decided on!”

“You’re the one who demanded you move into my apartment for the entire duration of this hell! You’re the one who went out and bought two twin beds like a fucking maniac and made me take out my bed to put in your little torture devices to make sure neither of us cheated off the clock!”

“And you agreed to it! I’m not the only insane one here! Sometimes I think you do it on purpose – kicking and fighting with the sheets, moaning in your sleep, rubbing yourself up on the mattress. Twice now I’m pretty sure I’ve gone blind in one eye, listening to all that and not being able to do a goddamn thing about it.”

You scoff, but now slightly uneasy. You’ve been moaning in your sleep? Fuck. Taking down your overbearing and egotistical coworker a few pegs was one thing. Becoming roommates with him was something else entirely. About two weeks in, he had come out of the bedroom without his shirt on – he’s been doing that more and more lately – and you had to sit in the bathroom with your hands clamped around the toilet seat for ten minutes straight to keep from finger-fucking yourself on the living room coffee table.

“I’m honestly surprised you didn’t want to install cameras in the shower just to make sure I’m not jacking off in secret. You better not be doing what I think you’re doing in there, Javi. You touch yourself once and I win, Javi. Stop looking at my ass when I’m wearing less clothes than a Victoria Secret model, Javi.”

“It’s summer in Bogota, you jackass,” you snipe, particularly ruffled by his high-pitched affectation of you. It stings more than it should because it sounds exactly like the shrill harpy all your male coworkers make you out to be. “What do you want me to wear?”

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, something terrifying like a smirk crawling across his perfect mouth and you feel the safety of annoyance crumble out from under you. He really is so fucking pretty.

“A puffy snowsuit would be lovely, actually. Arms, legs, all wrapped up. Cover your gorgeous hair in a hat too, if we’re at it. But if I knew you’d wear what I bought you, all you had to do was say so. Women always say I have excellent taste.”

You sigh, again, irritated and desperate to relieve that fist of tension in your shoulders, that gently knotting warmth between your legs. You wonder how much rubbing your crotch with the seam of your jeans you could get away with before he’d say something.

No, fuck, shit – focus. You’ve got to get a grip. This is just like those long night study sessions at the academy. All you had to do was buckle down and get serious about this. Sleep deprivation and curtailing your basic instincts didn’t scare you. You had been outlasting men like Javier your entire life and you weren’t about to get weak-kneed now.

And then something occurs to you that you hadn’t really considered before.

You had been so caught up in your own denial, in fighting your own need to hump your pillow even for a bit of relief – you hadn’t stopped to think what this might be doing to him.

Jesus Christ, I miss pussy.

Here's a crack in his resolve and you had seen it. Just for a minute. But it's there. You didn’t have to win so much as to make him lose.

Javier Peña. Nowhere to go and having nothing to fuck made him a very dangerous man. One you could easily exploit. However, and as much as it physically pained you to admit, Javier was smart. Blind-sided by his own horniness, or not, if he caught wind of you purposefully stacking the odds against him, there was no telling what he’d do in retaliation.

For a moment, your sex-deprived brain lounges in the idea of the many forms his retaliation might take.

No – Focus. You lick your lips, wrenching your gaze to the ceiling of the car. You had to be very careful about this.

“Look, I’m sorry, alright?” Go at it from the side. Around back while his attention is focused elsewhere. This was fucking guerilla warfare tactics. Placate him with submission. “I didn’t realize my outfits were bothering you. It’s just . . . it’s been so hot lately. I feel like I wake up, drenched wet in sweat, and it’s just too much still. And then, with this bet, sometimes I wake up and between my legs, I’m so –,”

A fist slams against the inside of the window so hard and so loud it makes you jump. His shoulders hunched, the fist in his lap tight and white-knuckled, he doesn’t even fully open his mouth when he snarls, “Do not . . . under any circumstances . . . finish that fucking sentence.”

He’s breathing heavily, breath skipping between his ribs, and you know you’ve got your opening. Your bottom lip drawn in between your teeth, you’re as much transfixed by his control visibly slipping as you are secretly, darkly thrilled to hear him make those noises. He breathes for a few more times, eyes closed. The sound of rain makes another appearance.

His hands come up to wrap around the steering wheel, as if he were picturing something else flexing beneath his palms.

“I know what you’re doing, or what you think you’re doing. But it’s not going to work. It’s just going to make me mad and I am not above hauling you over my lap and spanking you for being such a tease.”

You aren’t sure what shorts out your brain first: the fact he caught on so quickly, or the mental image he’s painting – and how much you fucking love it. God, when did it get so hot in here? You can feel sweat pooling along the ridge of your spine, under the cups of your bra. As though reading your mind, he shucks off his notorious brown jacket and hurls it into the back seat. Your toes curl in your boots. He’s wearing that white linen shirt that expertly shows off the cut of his biceps, his forearms and is more appropriate for a beach trip in Hawaii than the mean streets of Bogota. In his movement, his infamous sunglasses clatter against his stomach – if he just buttoned his collar all the way up like any man with an ounce of decency, they wouldn’t get in the way as much. You want to tell him that, correct him yet again, but now you can see the sweat shine in his clavicle, skin slightly pink and feverish over the hollow of his throat. You had no idea you affected him this much.

“You’re right. This is ridiculous.” He huffs, tossing back his glasses too before flopping back against the seat. “This can’t be healthy, at least. Edging ourselves for weeks at a time. I keep seeing tits in the clouds.”

“So then end it already.” You don’t mean to sound breathless – it’s the opposite of what you want – but your heart rate still hasn’t settled over the idea of Javier spanking you till your ass is red. He’s so much bigger than you, broader. He’d do it rough, if you asked, you know he would. You really hate to sound like you’re begging, but maybe you are. His eyes snap open wide at your near whimper. “Javi, please. We’re not going anywhere. He’s been in there for hours and he’s not coming out any time soon. Just unbutton your pants – I can just watch you – drop your hand in your underwear and –,”

A hand that can cup you nearly from ear to ear flies across the console and claps over your mouth. Something’s changed about him. You can see it in his eyes. At this point in your partnership, you had become fairly good at identifying his emotions, given there were only a handful he ever cycled through: tired, irritated, bored, furious, frustrated, disappointed. But this . . . this is different. His shoulders still face forward, arm reached out over the console, but his thick eyebrows arch down, as if he’s considering something. His head is cocked slightly to the side. You have to stop yourself from breathing in a sigh when his tongue wets his bottom lip.

“I’ll willingly lose this godforsaken bet on one condition,” he rasps out. His hand is warm, all consuming, you can barely breathe under it. You train your entire focus into the way his hair flops over his forehead to keep from whining at what his deep voice does to your lower half. Your muscles clench and your neglected pussy drools. Fuckin’ traitor. “And the condition is, that after this is done, after this fucking doomed stakeout is finally over, I drive us home and you let me rail you against our couch. How does that sound?”

You squeak, once. That’s it, but you can already feel that tell-tale hum, that warmth that almost itches, taking root below your stomach. His eyebrows arch in surprise, in victory, that smirk threatening to make an appearance. Your nails dig into the pleather seat – you want to thrash back, to get out from under the weight of his hand, to snark back a litany of responses that are not only mean but belittling – but you don’t.

You know he can feel you swallow and his eyelids hover halfway as he licks his bottom lip. He shifts, elbow now pressing against the back of the seat, his weight leaning forward, almost pressing down on you. His other hand is dangerously close to your knee.

“I’d make it good. I’d make it so fucking good, I swear. I’ll get down on my hands and knees and eat that wet little pussy for as long as you want. Lick and suck that attitude right out of your cunt.”

The car is too small, too cramped. Heat is washing over you in waves and the ache between your thighs is burning. With him this close, you can smell his cologne, the cologne that you rib him endlessly for because you’ve watched women inhale it like a pheromone as he passes down the hall. The scent now floods your senses, choking out everything that isn’t him, and your fingers dig up around his wrist, to pry him off you. You can feel sweat trickle down your temple onto his pinkie over your cheek. He watches it with his eyes, hungry and ready to devour. You have to wrestle back some semblance of control, or else your heart is going to beat out of your chest.

With all the strength left over from keeping yourself from bucking your hips up into the center console, you shove him back across the car.

“You fucking . . . stay over there,” you croak, gulping down air as if you had been deprived. He sprawls back, arms outstretched across the window ledge and the back of his seat. “Don’t ever fucking t-touch me again. Those things y-you said. I should report you–,”

“Why?” he chuckles. “You liked it. Thought you were going to eat me there for a minute . . . and I would’ve let you.”

It’s remarkably easy how your white-knuckled, lightning-sparked anticipation for him to do exactly what he said he’d do quickly morphs into a near-blinding rage. He doesn’t get it – he still doesn’t get it – he thinks this all a fucking game, when every minute of every day, your entire self-worth was put on the line.

But this is how you danced with him – right up to the edge, barking, screaming, yelling, then when it got real, or even almost real, you backed down. And he knew it.

“You really deserve someone who knows what they’re doing,” he continues. He folds his arms across his chest, grinning wildly. “Maybe that would teach you to be nice. Is that why you’re so nasty all the time? Someone who cares about you to properly stuff up that sweet little pussy in the way you need it?”

You feel fire crackle up and down your spine, plunging low to lick your insides every time he muses about the state of your cunt, then sky-rocketing back into this rage you’ve built out like walls.

It’s your turn to twist in the seat, to push against the windows as if you could expand and break out from this twisted scrap of metal that kept you chained to him.

“This is not about sex, Javier.” Your teeth ache from grounding out the words. “This is about proving to every single man out there that I deserve to be here. That I’m not just some cock-struck idiot who falls to her knees just because you snap your fingers. I don’t care what you think I need or what you want to do to me. I don’t care because until I come out of this bet the winner, all they’ll ever see is a pair of tits who negs them to do their fucking jobs.”

That wipes the smirk instantly off his face.

His eyes go soft and that might be worse than when he threatened your cunt.

“You think I don’t respect you.” It wasn’t a question but a surprised, almost hurt, statement. He sits up as best he can while still facing you. You were both irate and appreciative that you didn’t have to put it all into words. Words that would make you, again, feel like an overly emotional wimp. Someone with feelings. “You think I’m doing this – that I’m still doing this – because I want to humiliate you.”

You wait in silence for the pricking in your throat to subside before continuing on. “Is that not why? To bend that bitch as far as she’ll go before she breaks so everyone can see how much of a child she really is?”

His nostrils flare. “That’s the second time you’ve called yourself that tonight and I won’t stand for a third. Do you understand?”

His protectiveness flares so fast you aren’t quite sure what to do with it, so you nod.

“Good.”

Javier turns back around, his knees spread outright around the edge of the steering wheel, and picks the packet of cigarettes from underneath the radio. He wheels down the window again, rain spitting inside the inner ledge, and he lights up for the first time all night. His breath is shaky as he exhales through the crack he made. You can’t stop staring at the shine against his throat. What was rain and what was sweat? The golden lights from the store fronts and shops make the curls around his neck glow.

“I’m sorry that by fighting with you, I made you feel inferior. If you can believe it, I actually respect the living shit out of you and I . . .” He taps out ash before dropping his gaze to his lap. “That was never my intention, but Christ alive, you drive me crazy.”

If anyone ever asked, with a gun to your head, what was the one thing that immediately turned you on, you would without question answer with: Javier’s voice. How deep it got when he barked orders. How stern and serious it was when he directed raids and stationed soldiers. How playful it could be when you stopped trying to claw his eyes out.

He inhales slowly, thoughtfully, before blowing out again, fully turning his shoulders away from you as if something he is ashamed to admit is crawling up his chest into his mouth. He presses back against the seat, his unoccupied fingers tapping on his thigh.

“I think you’re one of the best agents I’ve ever met,” he confesses quietly. “Which should be the only opinion that matters, actually. I don’t say that to be egotistical – this bet isn’t about them. It’s between you and me, so fuck them. They’re all idiots and you know that. They know you know that and that’s why they want to take you down. Some men can’t stand it when a woman is smarter than them.”

Your tongue unsticks from the roof of your mouth. There is a heady mixture of pride, relief, and lust swirling lower and lower. He thought you were one of the best agents he’s ever met. Your lower half tightens at the praise, especially coming from him. “And you? What do you think?”

Javier grins. He flicks the butt end of the cigarette out the window and rolls it all the way up as he says,

“It’s a fucking turn on, is what I think.” His hips adjust towards you, that obnoxious belt buckle gleaming in the low light. Do not look at his crotch. He presses the backs of his two fingers against his mouth as he watches you. “But I’m not going to let you win this bet because you flutter your pretty eyes at me.”

He knocks his temple against the headrest, gaze shamelessly sweeping up your thighs, your wrists – of course, your tits – your neck and then your lips. You had caught glimpses of this look from him before – when you were reporting to a room full of slobbering men with precision and direction, or when you kneed a suspect into the ground, pinning him down and cuffing him with the other hand or that one time you joined the game of volleyball at the agency picnic in nothing but a sports bra and swim trunks. But now, that unique Javi look that seemed reserved only for you, it barrels down on you in full force – not another agent or superior around the corner to drag his attention away. Without restraint, he let those dirty, nasty little thoughts spring into his mind and you can almost hear the moans you're making in his head.

The desire that had been reduced to a simmer suddenly flares up in a fever pitch. Between your legs, your cunt aches at the mere hint of attention.

“Javier, don’t,” you warn. You try to back away, try to cut the argument in half like you do in the office by storming away down a hallway or into the bathroom or your car. But you can’t. You’re pinned by proximity under the weight of his stare. You’re not even fighting with him and he’s making you angry.

Angry? God, leave it to fucking Javier Peña to prove to you that the line between rage and being outrageously turned on was a razor-thin edge.

“I’m not even doing anything, baby,” he croons. He rounds his shoulders as if trying to lean forward, cover himself with his body. If you couldn’t see the whites of his knuckles around his clasped hands, you would have feared you would have been making this all up. “I’m not touching you, just like you asked.”

“Thank you, Javi,” you squeak out. “Now, please let's just get back to–,”

“I could, though, if you change your mind.” His eyes follow a very predictable path up the curve of your throat. “I could touch you. Are you going to change your mind?”

Even now, on the knife edge, even when he has been extraordinarily honest with you, you can’t make yourself say it. Can’t ask for it.

“It’s against the rules.” Because she's a traitor to you, your cunt leaks when you meet his jet black gaze. You feel the sweat on your neck return so fast you shiver. “I will kick you if you come over here again.”

“You’re so mean to me but, fuck, I love it so much.” He smirks. With mounting horror, you watch as he lifts his hand, the same one that flew over your mouth, up to the lip of the center console. “Here I am pouring my goddamn heart out, and you want to resort to violence.”

Not so much cautious, but more with the slow, syrupy flow of direct and deliberate intention, he brushes the backs of his fingers against your thigh. You jolt back, a muffed gasp caught between your teeth, but you don’t move to snatch his hand away.

He watches your face for any hint of resistance. When he doesn’t find any, he continues, casually flowing the pads of his fingers from the top of your knee, all the way up to your hip.

“Do you wanna know what I think, baby?” He purrs. “I think, somewhere along the way, someone came along and really fucked you up. Hurt you beyond comprehension.” His touch is more insistent now, more of his fingers, his palm occasionally. His thumbs sweeps your inner thigh and your cunt clenches down onto nothing and your teeth ache in your head.

“Javier–,”

His eyes flutter for a minute at the sound of his name tearing through your mouth. “Fuck, you’re getting me distracted . . . what was I saying? Oh, yeah . . . I think someone fucked you up and like the fucking warrior you are, you built up safeguards to never let that happen again.” His eyebrow arches lazily as he palms your waist. By the sheer grace of God, you had tucked your shirt into your pants today, never wanting to give the men in the bullpen the satisfaction of an accidental flash of skin. But Javier just tuts at the intrusion. His knuckles digging into your skin, he pinches out the edge of your shirt, bit by bit. “Problem is, you kept building until you locked yourself in and now you don’t know how to get out. You don’t know how to ask nicely at all.”

His broad palm slides uninterrupted under your shirt, smoothing the rough pads of his fingers across your stomach, and then up to the underwire of your bra. That’s enough to jerk you out of this dizzying haze.

“Javi, you can’t–,” you squeeze your eyes shut, as tight as your cunt, as he threatens to brush his thumb over your teased nipple. “I–I don’t wanna – I don’t wanna lose –,”

“Fuck the bet, sweetheart. You can tell them I lost for all I care. Right now, I just wanna feel you gush between my fingers.”

He doesn’t even need to touch your tit to yank that first moan out of you, but the breeze of his thumb only elongates the noise. Your own hand claps over your mouth this time, to muffle half of that stifled sound.

“None of that now,” he purrs, switching the direction of his hand and going lower on your body. “It’s fine when we’re in public, but here, I want you hoarse from screaming my name as loud as you can.”

“Javi, please–,”

His hips twitch. Twitch so hard they jerk off the seat, the side of his crotch rubbing the steering wheel. His eyes roll back in his head.

“Juuust like that, baby. Keep saying my name just like that.”

His fingers don’t slow down as they breach the waistband of your pants. He didn’t even unzip you so his entire warm hand is shoved right up against your coarse, damp hairs.

“Fuck, is this sweat, baby, or is it from me? Please fucking lie if it's not and tell me it’s for me.”

The pad of his middle finger skims the top of your lips, terrifyingly close to your clit and you finally react. Your clit throbbing, your fingers clamp down on his wrist and he freezes. But he’s panting, breathing harshly across the seat.

“Don’t ask me to stop. Not right now. Please don’t –,”

Your hips buck into his palm and your head drops back against the window. You end up pressing him harder against you and you moan.

“It’s you, Javier, I’m dripping for you.”

“Shit,” he snarls and rubs himself against the steering wheel again, anything to relieve the pressure. His fingers slide around the edges of your puffy, swollen lips, skitters across your pulsating clit, and you nearly orgasm from the direct touch. You jerk back, the denial of your orgasm almost painful, but because your waistband binds him to you, his fingers come with you and you bump into them again. You almost cry out at the intrusion, but his hand is still.

“Can I touch you– c-can I put them inside you, baby – please?”

Tight-lipped, you shake your head furiously, muffling nuh uh between your teeth. He hisses darkly.

“This can’t possibly still be about this stupid fucking bet –,”

“I don’t – w-w-wanna lose – I-I-I don’t wanna lose –,” you swallow, voice breaking, and you yank his hand out from your soaking underwear. You can’t bear to look at his fingertips, assuming from the ocean between your thighs, they’ll come out pruny. But the ache doesn’t go away. It lingers, waiting and lurking for the next touch. It’s been denied too many times tonight. Your head spinning, you gasp for breath for the split second he’ll allow.

“You know, for such a smart woman, you really don’t get what’s best for you.” His other hand finally comes around and grabs your knee, pinning you apart with his broad hand and his other elbow as his fingers dive for the buttons of your pants. You try to shut your legs, but the box at your feet is immovable. “Just fucking relax and let me take you apart.”

“W-w-wait, Javier, that’s not–,”

His gaze pinning you down as much as his weight is, his fingers deftly unzipping your pants, sliding through the opening, and pressing up against your sodden panties. You gasp. It’s relief, painful, throbbing relief, but it comes at the cost of fire licking your spine.

“But that’s not what you need, is it, pretty baby? That’s only part of it. Touching is one thing, but you need someone inside of you, don't you? Need someone to fuck up into that pretty cunt.” Your pussy swollen, you fight to breathe as much as it to fight off your impending orgasm. “Just say thank you, Javi when we’re done, alright?”

Unrelenting and deaf to your cries, his fingers strip back your underwear and finally, finally, finally, he sinks two fingers into your hot, pulsating core. His shoulders shudder as you arch back, letting out a wail. Your thighs quake around the box in front of you.

“‘Is so good. So warm.” He slurs. His hand releases your knee and slides up your hip to palm as much of your ass as he can reach. “Can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do this.” He inhales like he wants to haul you over the console into his lap, but that you resolutely cannot allow, because there would be no coming back from that. You can still see the other side of your orgasm, enough to stifle it back down, sequester it. He strokes your inner muscles, in and out, the wet sound obscene – you must be gushing – and he hums. “Listen to that, sweetheart. God, the things I could do with that. Put you over my fucking shoulder, for one.”

Your release is roaring at you, the razor-edge of pain and pleasure digging into the meat of your pussy, as you fight again to deny what you actually really want. You plant your heels, rolling your hips against his fingers because if you were going to fucking lose, you were going to be the one to make you do it. Not him.

And then unprompted, he retreats his fingers and all but shoves them into his mouth. His hips buck up again and he’s not breathing properly. You shudder at the loss of contact but at least the edges of your vision return. God, you’re not sure how much more you can take. But there is some respite, even for a moment. Javi seems to have momentarily forgotten how close he had come to winning.

Saliva and your thready cum dripping from between his lip, Javier sucks on his fingers as if someone were threatening to cut off his hand. His hips bump lazily, distractedly, against the steering wheel as his other hand white-knuckles his knee. He licks his wrist up to the meaty side of his palm, never one to waste excess.

“Fuck, fuck, f-f-fuck,” he murmurs, eyes closed. The sight has you flushing again. “I’m gonna eat that cunt whole if it’s the last thing I do. Gonna put you in my lap and bounce you on my cock until you beg me to let you –,”

“Come.” You command, sanity finally snapping as you use the same voice to scold rowdy students at the academy or talkative agents in a presentation. It’s forceful, direct, and you are hoping that it throws him off enough to do exactly that. Come, so you win fair and square. Because that means you can finally come too.

It works.

Or it nearly does.

Javier’s spine goes rigid, hips still, his soaked fingertips hovering inches from his wet lips. His eyes snap open and oh, shit, you’ve done it now, you’ve really done it now. His once blissed out face contorts into that scowl of primal determination that only comes down for raids. For meetings with sketchy CIs. Moments when lives are at stake.

“What did you just say to me?” The growl is more gnarled wolf than human. You immediately back up as far as the car will allow, the front of your pants still undone.

“Javi, I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry –,” By his expression, you half-expect him to throw open the door, storm around to your side, yank you to your feet and start fucking you against the car window. Your cunt is throwing a fucking riot at this point. She’s so pissed at you, she’s squeezing so tightly, you think she’ll suck the air right out of you. “I wasn’t thinking – i-i-it just slipped out –,”

He unbuttons two more of his buttons on his shirt and you think, deliriously, he’s going to take his shirt off, but no, he’s just letting more heat escape. More steam rise from his sweaty back. He seems to grow, fill out, until he takes up the entire front seat of the car.

“Please, please, don’t make me come, Javi.” You cry, shrinking back as far as you can. You might actually die from this. From him or a lack thereof. Either way, Javier Peña is going to destroy you.

“I should leave you alone, you know.” He growls. “I should just leave you there to fucking drool into your jeans, smart little cunt knotted up so tight, I could breath on you and make you come. The kind of shit you pulled tonight, you fucking deserve to suffer. But I’m not going to do that and you know why?”

Without warning, his hand snatches around your wrist, yanking you up against the center console. He’s right, you’re so fucking close, the movement rubs you wrong and you squeak again.

Slowly, with superhuman restraint, his nose delicately strokes the underside of your jaw by your ear, then down your neck, as if inhaling the goosebumps that burst out across your skin. You shudder. “J-J-Javi, p-p-please –,”

His other hand slides back up under your shirt, his fingers slotting in between your ribs, your back as arched as it can go. He feels you breath shakily and he closes his eyes. His next words are so soft, spoken so close to your cheek, you can feel the hairs there vibrate with the frequency of his voice.

“I’m not going to do that because I want you to know exactly what the fuck has the secretaries in a goddamn hissy fit over. I want you to think of me and me only every time you try to open your legs for anyone else. I want you to cry in frustration every time you can’t make yourself come with just your fingers because they’re not mine – they’re nowhere close to mine – and I want you to scream in frustration when I don’t pick up the phone. After tonight, I’m going to ruin you for everyone else.”

He pauses, as if expecting an answer, but he couldn’t possibly think you are capable of responding, of dredging actual human thought up out of the murk he held you under. His lips drag gently over the arc of your cheek as he leans into your ear. His voice rumbles and you whine, embarrassed, at the sound alone.

“Because that’s what you’ve done to me.”

No, no, that can’t possibly be right – it’s a trick. It’s a trap. It’s a lie. Javier Peña can’t actually be –

And then, in that same, slow timbre of voice, Javi says,

“I’m gonna finger-fuck you now, okay?”

Any chance of fighting back, of arguing still, is obliterated when his hand shoots back down between your thighs, surges past your underwear, and hooks his fingers up inside you again. This time it’s fast, he’s not waiting for you to gather your sense, he’s going to split you open, here in this fucking Pontiac.

The force of his thrusts make your spine turn to ooze and you drop forward onto his shoulder.

Fine. It’s fine. You’ll fucking lose. Who cares about your precious pride?

You don’t realize you’re whimpering in time with his fingers until you try to say his name. He cups the back of your head, reverently, as he spews more filth into your ear. As if the lewd noises he’s evoking from your pussy isn’t enough.

“I’m going to take care of you, you little sweet cunt. I’m going to take care of you the way no one else has. That’s right, that’s a good little pussy, squealing for me. Hmm, tell me, does she like this?”

His thumb merely brushes your clit, the lone survivor in all of this, and your hips jolt in his hand. He holds you steady against his shoulder. Your fingernails dig into his bicep.

“Oh, yeah, she does. Of course, she does. I can do that for as long as you like, alright?”

That white heat curls your body inwards, tearing your mouth open, and sending your eyes to the back of your head. “JaviJaviJaviJavi – please –,”

He tsks into your ear. “You keep saying that but you never tell me what you’re begging for.”

It’s coming. It’s staggering. It eclipses everything and it’s just out of reach. You feel it start to expand and after all this time, it’s actually a fucking relief to give yourself over. To let yourself be rent asunder by something this huge and overwhelming.

His fingers, the ones not rocketing you towards the biggest orgasm of your life, gently wind up into your hair, sweetly caressing the soft skin behind your earlobe. His voice is quiet, coaxing, kind. His lips almost kiss the ridges of your ear.

“It’s okay, baby. I’ll tell you what to say. Say, Javi, I want you to make me come.”

“Javi, I–,”

There’s an explosion.

No, not like that. He’s not that good.

It’s a literal explosion in the street, with flashes of flames and heat that rattle the car. Alarms go off, your vision goes white – because of a pipe bomb stationed out underneath a car parked outside the part-time gambling den, part-time brothel. Javi’s arm flings out in front of you as the car is rocked from the impact. Flames lick the charred out husk of the front of the building. Only when your ears stop ringing, do you finally hear the screaming.

And then patter of bullets.

“Baby, get your gun and stay low!” He roars, as the windshield of the car behind you shatters, the popping of gunfire echoing the distance. He lunges back and grabs his jacket, fumbling for his gun. The panic in his voice shakes you awake and you dig into the glove box for your own handheld.

It’s a firefight for your lives, in the middle of the rain, in the middle of chaos and smoke.

It’s time to go to work.

🤍Part 2

#javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena smut #javier peña x y/n #javier pena x y/n #javier pena fic #javier pena one shot #javier pena x ofc #javier peña x reader #javier peña smut #javier peña x you #narcos #narcos netflix

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creedslove · 1 year

Text

DESERVE IT - PART TWO

javier peña x f!reader

Summary: Javi has been acting weird ever since your kiss and you don't know what to do to make things better between the two of you

Warnings: angst angst and angst, mentions of bad relationships, reader being innocent and Javi being an asshole

A/N: I just couldn't get enough of this Javi scenario and got carried away with the angst. I love it!!!

PART 1

2.3k words

Javi's hand gripped your waist, his fingers brushing against your skin as you deepened the kiss.

You tasted his lips and loved how his mustache tickled you softly, your hands tugging at his hair, and a soft whimper escaped your lips when you realized how good it felt.

No wonder all the women wanted a piece of Javier Peña.

And just like you initiated it, he stopped it.

Peña broke the kiss announced, he licked his lips, having one last taste of you and sighed heavily. Getting up and walking to the door "I gotta go, Y/N" he swallowed and left.

•••

You could barely sleep at night, you were left confused and worried about what was going on with Javi. He just broke the kiss and left without a second word. No sex, no goodbyes, no apologies, no compliments, nothing.

You didn't know exactly what you expected, when you kissed him you knew there was a high chance of ending up under him, and even if you didn't, you figured you were close enough to avoid any awkwardness. You thought you'd laugh it off, shrugged it off or anything else but Javier exiting your apartment like that.

You hoped things would be better in the morning, maybe he just got embarrassed after the scene Carlos made the day before.

Morning came at a slow pace and you were anxious to get to work. You noticed Javi had left earlier than usual and you thought it was a little odd. Of course he didn't have to give you a ride everyday, but he usually did. Even if it wasn't his obligation, you helped each other out, but no problem, you decided to not overthink things and focus on getting to work before you ran late.

You rushed to your table kind of clumsy. You carried many files you'd finished after Javi left and also two cups of coffee from a shop down the street. It was nothing like the American ones you were used to, but there was something about that strong coffee from Colombia you couldn't get enough of. Of course Javi was the one who showed you and promised you you'd love it.

You managed to get everything on your table and walked to him, he had his head low, focused expression, furrowing his brows at how attentive he read the documents. You figured he was so deep into work he hadn't noticed you despite the noise the heavy files made when they hit the solid furniture.

"Morning Javi, this is for you" you placed his cup of coffee next to where he was resting his hand and smiled, but he didn't even raise his eyes from the paper

"I already had coffee," he replied coldly.

Your jaw dropped at the action, not even in the worst of his moods he had been that cold to you.

You swallowed hard and looked around feeling slightly lost not knowing what to do or what to say properly

"Is there a problem, Javi?" You questioned at the same time Murphy walked towards you

"Peña, Messina wants to see us now"

And with that both men left barely acknowledging your existence and let out saying goodbye.

You waited the whole afternoon, finishing the tasks you'd compromised to help Javi with but there was no sign of them. Things were probably tense and whenever they had a meeting with Messina you knew he got furious.

You saw Steve walking in and sitting down on his chair. You turned to him and waited for Javier's entrance but he never showed up.

"Where's Javi?" You asked the blonde man who scratched the back of his neck and looked at you

"I don't know Y/N… he said he had stuff to do"

You nodded and looked back at the brand new pile of paper Steve brought from Messina's office.

•••

In the evening you got out of the shower and went to the kitchen to prepare yourself some dinner. You were feeling very tired due to the stress at work and felt like making nothing more elaborate than a sandwich, but when you saw the raviolis ready to be made, your mouth watered. You quickly grabbed your cooking appliances and began working.

As food was almost ready, you battled yourself if you should knock on Javi's door and offer him some. You knew he didn't eat well overall and you still remembered the first time you'd made ravioli and invited him over. You'd never seen him eat so much before, he truly did enjoy every bite he took and praised your cooking skills for days with no end.

You smiled at yourself at the sweet memory and figured some dinner would be the greatest peace offer you could think of. Maybe over dinner you could talk things through and end up with that whole awkwardness.

You knocked on his door a few times with no answer. It was kind of odd as you'd seen his car parked in the garage and you didn't hear any noises coming from inside, and by noises, you meant moans and whimpers, which meant he was alone. You frowned and insisted a little bit more.

"Javi… I think you're inside, maybe you fell asleep, but if you're awake, I just want you to know I made ravioli for dinner, and well, if you wanna have dinner with me, you're invited" you still let out a smile and again you got no answer.

You sighed and walked back inside, still clueless about what was going on.

When you woke up the next morning, you were determined to find out what the heck was going on between the two of you. Javier was simply ignoring you, pretending you didn't existed and it hurt you to no end. He had never been like that, your Javi was sweet, lovely, funny. He was a gentleman, but ever since you barked at Carlos for his stupid teasing and you kissed him, Javier just acted as if he didn't even know you.

You didn't know what had changed and why he distanced himself, there was no reason for him to treat you like that, you were upset to be ignored but you also couldn't deny you were dying to have his eyes on you again, to have his attention, his sweet words, the pet names, the spoiling, and above all, you missed your friend. You only realized how attached to him you really were now he was pushing you away.

When you began getting ready, you went through your closet trying to pick something to wear that would go with your recently done red blood nails. You knew Javier would say something about it, he always did. Deep inside you thought it must've been some kind of a kink, as he always praised women whenever they liked how their nails were done and to you it wasn't anything different. His favorite seemed to be red, as he always said it suited your sexy personality.

You smiled as you found the perfect dress to go to work. You remembered clearly the day when you and Javi were walking down the street on a Sunday afternoon after you went out for lunch a few blocks away from your apartment building. You'd stopped briefly in front of a store, though it was closed, you could see the dresses in the window.

He had taken off his sunglasses and watched the dress closely.

"This one, cariño, it will match your body perfectly"

First thing you did that Monday after work was to stop by the place and buy the dress Javier told you to.

When you got to the office, you were feeling pretty confident about yourself, Javi was right after all, the dress did match your body, and it made you feel elegant and powerful. No one could accuse him of not having a good taste nor not knowing the female body after all.

You could see several male gazes at you, following you around and watching every step you took. Even Steve eyed you up and down, but not Javi.

In fact, he acted just like he'd been doing for the past couple of days. Head buried into work and not bothering giving you the time of the day. He talked to Murphy or just answered the phone, concentrated and not looking towards you. At the same time you tried your best not to look disappointed, so you started working, in hopes things would be better through the day.

You were standing by the scanner printer when you felt a presence behind you. You finally bit your lips to hold back a smile.

"Ay muñequita, me matas así" you were so deep in thought and expectations you were sure he finally had acknowledged you. You turned to him and your smiley face turned into an angry expression at the realization it was Carlos's disgusting words and not Javi's.

"Fuck you, Carlos" you told him as you walked away, feeling pissed at the man.

Another hour went by of hard work and you could feel it was your last chance of drawing Javi's attention to yourself.

You'd finished the last paperwork Steve had left for you when he was going through his depressed episode and you needed to hand it to agent Peña himself.

You walked to his desk confidently as ever and placed the paper flat on the table, holding it with your fingers and sliding over to him, your nails extremely visible as you saw he stopped whatever he was writing and stared at your hand, not at you, not into your eyes, but it was a start.

"Where do I put this, Javi?" You asked as sweet as you could be.

"Wherever you want, Y/N. I don't care"

And just like that, you felt like a wave of freezing water crashed over you.

You felt some angry tears forming in your eyes and was so careful not to spill them there.

You went back to your table silently and pretended to work some more, though you couldn't focus on anything around you.

It was Y/N now. Only Y/N. No cariño, no querida, no hermosa, no mi amor, just the distance and unfamiliarity of Y/N.

When he got up some moments later, you mimed his action and kept your head low, not bothering looking at him, holding your breath as you really thought for a second he would stop by your desk. But instead he walked right past it and went to the secretary, giving her his brown puppy eyes while he asked for a favor.

"This color really matches you, Colleen" he said in his sweet, charming, flirty way, sending a deep flush across the secretary's face.

You couldn't believe your ears and when you finally looked at them, he was actually holding her hand in his.

You gritted your teeth and if you could you would've slapped that bitch right across her ugly face.

You weren't proud of that thought, Colleen was actually pretty nice to you and she probably didn't deserve that. In fact, Javier deserved it more than anyone in that room, even more than Carlos, but you didn't care about being rational at that point. You were just so angry and jealous of her.

Javier got whatever he asked her for and placed it at his desk before heading to the restroom.

You felt a burning rage invading your body and you couldn't take that situation anymore.

You followed him not caring if anyone saw you sneaking into the men's bathroom, you shut the door behind you with a loud thud making Javi turn around startled and stare at you.

"What the fuck Y/N?" He groaned in annoyance and you took a step closer

"What the fuck Javier? I'm the one who asks you what the fuck is going on with you? Why are you being such a dick to me? What have I done to you?" You were so angry your voice shook a little, wanting answers from him.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, looking at you and placing his hands on his hips.

"You know what, Y/N? I don't need you bitching with Carlos for the things he says, I don't want you to act like a savior, I don't need you to save me, Y/N. And I definitely don't need you to kiss me out of pity" he let out trying to control his voice, though you could see a popping vein in his neck.

"I never kissed you out of pity, Javi… I did it because it felt right…"

He scoffed and rolled his eyes

"Since we met you've been clear about not wanting to sleep with me but you do everything in your power to act like my fucking girlfriend and then you kiss me?!" He slid his tongue through his lips and sighed "I'm not a good man, for you or any other woman, you gotta take that out of your mind. I know why you broke up with your boyfriend. He left you at the altar, and guess what? I did the same thing with a woman named Lorraine ten years ago! Do you really think I'm not as bad as the other guys are? I'm not as bad as your former fiance? Cut the crap Y/N. You can't have these feelings for me, we'd better stop whatever this was now. So you won't get even more hurt"

He gave you a last glance and exited the bathroom.

You stood there, watching yourself in the mirror, looking at how much effort you had put into your outfit to draw the attention of a man who didn't deserve you.

Maybe it had been obvious from the start and you refused to see, but turns out Javier Peña was just like every other man, and just like the ones you've had before, he broke your heart.

_____

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed the angst!!!

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #javier peña #javier peña x y/n #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña fanfic #javier pena #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena x y/n #javier pena fanfic #javier pena fanfiction

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ladamedusoif · 5 months

Text

Snowflakes (Javier Peña x F!Reader)

A Merry Fic-Mas - December 6

Part of A Merry Fic-Mas: A Holiday Fic Calendar - click for masterlist. FYI: I'm having so much trouble with taglists at the moment that I'm not going to use them for now - if you want to keep updated, follow @ladameecrit and turn on notifications.

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 2091

Warnings: Reader is a colleague of Javi’s; set sometime around the events of Narcos S1; non-canon; no use of Y/N; no physical description of reader; alcohol consumption; smoking; references to sex work; swearing; references to Christmas but more often to ‘holiday season’; reader has a large family; fluff; minor angst; heavy making out; implied smut; Javi is a softie really

Summary: With the holidays approaching, you volunteer to stay on and work at the embassy in Colombia so that other colleagues can take time off and head back to the US to spend time with family. It’s just you, mountains of paperwork - and Javier “Where’s Your Festive Spirit?” Peña.

Winding down for the holidays in the embassy in Bogotá isn’t exactly how it was when you were based in D.C. That being said, even narcotics kingpins - and the people tasked with trying to topple their empires - eased off a little around the festive season. It’s three days before Christmas Eve, and the embassy offices are abuzz with colleagues exchanging cards and well-wishes before many of them depart for some much-needed time with family back in the US.

You’ve volunteered to stay put and let others, especially those with kids or older parents, get home. You come from a large family and - while you’ll miss them - you know your absence won’t be felt quite so keenly.

The strains of “White Christmas” float through the office as you sort out stacks of paperwork in preparation for the (hopefully) quieter days ahead, humming along to yourself.

Javier Peña sidles into the room, cigarette dangling from his lower lip and body poured into those stupidly tight jeans and shirt as per usual, and lets out a groan.

“Ironic we’ve got Bing fuckin’ Crosby dreaming of a white Christmas, while we’re here trying to put a stop to a different kind of snow.”

You roll your eyes and exhale. “C’mon, Javi. Where’s your festive spirit?”

He swivels and gives you that hooded stare you feel is more of a practiced defence mechanism than anything else.

“Don’t have it. Don’t need it. Just want to get some work done when it’s quieter. When are you leaving, anyway?”

You put on your best and brightest smile. “I’m not. I volunteered to stay over the holidays, too. Now, when are we planning on making some popcorn garlands and drinking eggnog?”

You hold your wide-eyed, innocent expression for just long enough to spark panic in Javi’s eyes, before collapsing in giggles.

“I’m just fuckin’ with you, man! Fuck. But I do have holiday sweaters and I’m not afraid to wear them.”

Javi rolls his eyes, shakes his head, and leaves.

You know all about Javier Peña and his reputation. Grumpy lothario with a moral compass painted in shades of grey. Supposedly fucked every hooker in Colombia by now, and a few embassy staffers for good measure. Sullen, snarky, and the definition of an asshole.

You don’t buy it.

Okay, he’s not exactly subtle about the way he checks out pretty much everything in a skirt, though he has his limits. And his knowledge of local brothels is just too good to be entirely based on police intelligence reports, though you suspect at least some of the stories are heavily embellished if not entirely made up.

There’s just something about him that tells you he’s not the grumpy asshole people think he is - or, maybe, that he wants people to think he is. It’s like that stare: it’s a way of keeping you at arm’s length. It’s the same as the puppy dog eyes he pulls out when he’s trying to get something he wants. You’re a good agent - you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t - and you can’t resist the allure of cracking a puzzling case. Especially if it’s the colleague currently sitting sullenly at his desk, plume of cigarette smoke rising above his head, while he rifles through surveillance photographs.

The embassy is much quieter now, the day before Christmas Eve, and the usual background noise of phones and chatter has been replaced by the sound of your typewriter, the scratch of Javi’s Parker ballpoint pen against a yellow legal pad, and his occasional frustrated grunt or exhalation.

He hasn’t said a word about the bright green sweater decorated with a glittery Christmas tree that you’ve worn to work, though you’ve noticed him sneaking occasional glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking. Eventually you decide to call his bluff.

“I think you’re jealous of this sweatshirt, Javi. Let me know your size and I can get you one for next year.”

He looks over at you and shakes his head with irritation. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ.” But you swear you detect a little smile flashing across his lips.

On Christmas Eve, you don your brightest holiday sweater and pack a tin of homemade sugar cookies into your work bag. It promises to be quiet - most Colombians will be with family, preparing to attend midnight Mass and come together for dinner afterwards. You aren’t even sure if Javi will be in the office.

He’s there, of course, already leafing through files with his feet up on the desk when you arrive. He does a little salute in acknowledgement - more of a hello than you think you’ve ever got from him, you muse.

He looks up again at the sound of your cookie tin hitting your desk, and mutters something under his breath.

“Excuse me? I didn’t quite catch that.”

“I said, that better not contain popcorn for making garlands.”

You grin, take the lid off the tin, and cross to his desk to show him the cookies. “I didn’t think you’d be much good at that, so I made cookies instead.”

Javi cannot disguise the interest in his eyes as his gaze moves from the cookies to your face.

“I don’t like eggnog.”

You shrug. “Don’t have eggnog, so we’re good. There’s coffee. Or, as I suspect, there’s that bottle of whiskey you’ve got in your desk drawer?”

You raise your other hand. Javi groans when he realises you’re holding two holiday-themed mugs, dangling expectantly, but he’s clearly fighting a laugh as he bends down and opens his desk drawer to retrieve a bottle of Johnnie Walker.

“Fuck it.”

It seems that sugar cookies, Scotch, and an empty office are the key to cracking the mystery that is Javier Peña. He’s more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him, stretching back in his chair with his feet up as you sit on the edge of his desk.

The alcohol has emboldened you a little. “I don’t buy it.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Don’t buy what?”

“You not having any holiday spirit. I think you just don’t want to let it show.”

“Fuck, not this again.” He’s smiling, though, and there’s a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He exhales and sips his drink.

“Holidays were my mom’s thing. Never felt the same after she passed.”

“I’m sorry, Javi, I didn’t mean to bring up any bad memories.”

He brushes away your apology with a wave of his hand. “No need to say sorry. They’re not bad memories. That’s the fuckin’ problem, they’re all too good.” He chuckles to himself, as if he’s reliving Christmases past. “She loved it, all of it. The food, the lights, the music. Dancing with my pop on Christmas Eve with the record player on - fuckin’ embarrassing, when you’re a kid.”

He laughs at the memory and you can’t help but join in, saying nothing in case he’ll close himself off again.

“She had this little ornament that was like a snowglobe, or something, with a little plastic snowman inside, and she used to shake it every day and watch all the fake snow falling. Don’t get a lot of snow in Laredo, so it must have seemed…exotic.”

“Never had a white Christmas?”

He shakes his head and takes another sip of whiskey. “Not that I recall. Just one day in February when I was, what - fourteen? Fifteen? And I came home from school and she was standing in the yard, staring up into the sky and watching those snowflakes fall like a little kid.”

You let the memory linger for a couple of moments, before silently reaching for the cookie tin and offering it to him.

After another hour or so of work - albeit at a decidedly relaxed pace - you dig out your final Christmas Eve surprise: a portable cassette player, and a mix tape you’ve made of your favourite holiday songs. As the opening bars of “Sleigh Ride” by the Ronettes ring out, Javi sighs and stares at you.

“That better not have any Bing fuckin’ Crosby on it. Or Sinatra.”

You chuckle as you bob your head in time to the music, swaying in your office chair. “Don’t worry, Javi, I wouldn’t force that on you. Who knows, we might even have the same taste in holiday tunes?”

He grins and shakes his head, but you smile with satisfaction when you notice his foot starting to keep time.

No holiday spirit, my ass.

The next track is your favourite: “Christmas Wrapping”, by the Waitresses. You stand up from the desk and dance your way over to the filing cabinets, shimmying a little as you put away some completed paperwork and looking over your shoulder just in time to catch Javi nodding along to the music.

He looks up as you extend your hand towards him.

“I know you want to, Javi. I could see that Rio Grande boot tapping from across the room.”

He stands up. He extinguishes his cigarette. He stares at you like you’ve come from another planet.

And then he takes your hand and starts to dance with you, right there in the middle of the office: his moves a little reserved and awkward at first, but his body language becoming more open, more relaxed, as the song progresses.

By the time Patty Donahue is recounting how she’s turned down all of her Christmas Eve invitations, Javi’s broad hands are around your waist, yours resting on his shoulders, both giggling at the bizarre holiday party you’ve created for yourselves. He suddenly twirls you around and you throw your head back and laugh out loud.

He pulls you back in as the song reaches the final, repeated chorus. You lean in and whisper in his ear.

“I knew you weren’t a grinch, Javier Peña.”

His laugh is low and warm, resonating through his broad chest, and it sends a spark through you as your eyes meet.

He tastes of whiskey and tobacco, of sugar cookies and coffee, and he holds you close as you deepen the kiss and move backwards towards your desk. Your last few manila folders of paperwork hit the floor as he eases you up onto the edge of the table, your hands already starting to unbutton his shirt as his long, thick fingers work their way under your sweater and find the soft, sensitive skin of your breasts.

You sit up a little so you can take the sweatshirt off, hastily discarding it before reaching for Javi’s belt buckle.

“We probably shouldn’t be doing this,” you murmur as he undoes your jeans and encourages you to raise your hips just enough to pull them down.

“You don’t want to?” he asks, breath warm and heavy against your neck.

“I want to.”

“Good,” and he moves his mouth to your nipple as you whine with pleasure. “It’s Christmas, after all.”

You’re gone when he wakes up the next morning, the sheets on your side of the bed already turning cold in the grey light of a Christmas morning. He sits up and reaches for his cigarettes before dialling your number.

No answer.

He had planned to go into the office one way or another. No point hanging around at home on his own when he could be getting some work done, right?

And maybe you’d be there, too.

The embassy is completely silent as Javi makes his way to the office, flicking on the lights and realising that all the evidence of yesterday’s festivities has been cleared away. Your desk is neat and tidy as ever.

It’s like nothing happened.

There is one change, though: a little red gift box on Javi’s desk, topped with a bright green bow. The tag reads simply:

Merry Christmas, Agent Peña.

He raises an eyebrow and opens the box, reaching in to retrieve the gift within.

The fake snow glitters inside the cheap, plastic snowglobe as he holds it up to the light.

#a merry fic-mas #holiday fic calendar #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña fanfiction #narcos fanfiction #narcos #javier peña #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal

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pedrito-friskito · 1 year

Note

If you’re still taking requests, could I please have "You look adorable when you smile" with the resident grump, Mr Javier Peña 💖

nonnie how did you know that javier peña is the way to my heart?

my head is stuck on the ranch these days, and this was a fun little prequel to what’s already been published 💕 hope you enjoy! (no angst or smut, just fluffy goodness!)

sleepover saturday

meet-cute

(word count 3k)

He’s had a long fucking day.

Scratch that, Javier is having a long fucking week. Month. Year. Lifetime, whatever. There aren’t enough cartons of cigarettes or enough litres of whiskey that could take the edge off how he’s feeling. And today? Oh, today the hours had just ticked by, five minutes feeling like thirty, his watch moving so slowly that he was convinced far too early on in the day that the battery was dead and needed replacing. But no, the hands kept ticking away at a glacial pace, taunting him.

So yes, as soon as he’d finished his day on the ranch, he’d gotten into his truck, still dressed in his work clothes, and took off for the nearest bar. Not like they’re few and far between in Laredo; he could have walked if he was feeling athletic, or even ridden a horse — most bars within reasonable distance of the ranch have a stable out back.

But he didn’t have the patience to fight one of the mares into a saddle, so into his truck he went, dust kicking up in the rearview as the ranch disappeared behind him.

Javier has been home a few weeks now. The ranch has been officially his for exactly seven days, and he is bone tired. There is dirt in places there shouldn’t be, he’s half-convinced he pulled a muscle in his back, and his head throbs something fierce with every step. The state of him doesn’t stop him from plunking himself on a barstool, ordering three fingers of whiskey and shoving his head in his hands.

He’s not sure he’s cut out for this.

Sure, he was raised for it. Chucho was always adamant that Javi pull his weight, and he did. Or, tried. There were certain things his father knew never to trust him with, turning him towards easier tasks, things Chucho could do with his eyes closed. Javi can remember being offended, at first, his teenage brain filled with hormones that whispered rage quickly — why wouldn’t his dad just trust him? — but then as time wore on, as his attentions were diverted, pulled in the direction of pretty girls and far-off countries, the idea of a badge in his hand and a gun on his hip, he cared less and less.

Eventually, Chucho stopped asking him to do anything, and then Javier was off to college, to becoming an agent, running headlong into Colombia before he really realized what he was getting himself into.

And then somehow, here he was, back in Laredo, right where he started.

Not enough whiskey in the world. His whole body aches for a cigarette, but he swore to his folks he’d quit.

He’s halfway through his second drink when the door opens, the tinkling of bells above it signalling a new customer. Out of habit, he’d perched himself within sight of the exit, and his gaze lifts as you step through the door. High boots, short dress, hair piled high on your head. You’re beautiful, a grin on your lips that has him inhaling deeply, inflating his chest as you bee-line for the bar, a gaggle of other girls staggering into the bar behind you. Judging from the Bride-To-Be sash on one of your companions, Javi assumes it to be a bachelorette party, and he chuckles into his glass as you approach the bar, much more sure-footed than the rest of your friends.

Javier stays quiet as you rattle off an order to the bartender, an odd mix of cocktails and beers, finished with a tonic water with lemon. When the bartender turns away, you lean heavily onto the bar top, and Javier doesn’t miss the way you seem to deflate a little as you wait for your drinks. You start to glance around the bar, eyes flicking this way and that, until they land on Javi, who realizes he’s just been caught staring at you.

“Hi,” you say, a grin lifting the corner of your mouth.

“Hi,” he mumbles back, lifting his glass for a sip. “Bachelorette?”

“Is it that obvious?” you laugh, tossing your head back. “Would you believe this is our fourth bar of the night?”

“Looking at you,” Javi drawls, letting his eyes drop quickly before they flick back to your face. Your own narrow at him, “no. Looking at your friends over there,” he juts his chin towards the women in question, “definitely.”

“And why’s that?”

“You’re upright, for starters.”

You scoff out another little laugh, mouthing your thanks to the bartender when he delivers the tonic and lemon first. You take a big gulp, breathing out a sigh as you wait for the rest of the drinks. “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta make sure they all get home to their husbands and boyfriends and fiancés.” Something in your tone makes him curious, and he can’t help his question.

“And who are you going home to?”

“My cat,” you say, laughing again, “and the attic bedroom of my aunt’s house.”

“Sounds cozy.”

You eye him sidelong, hand curled around your glass. “Are you from around here?”

“Born and bred,” he replies, noting the lift to your lips. “You?”

“Not exactly,” you return, taking another sip. Your face has fallen, brows pinched together as you stare down into the glass. “It’s a long story.”

“One requiring a much stronger drink than that?” Javier asks, and instantly regrets it at the way your lips turn down into a frown, the line in your forehead growing deeper. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no,” you say quickly, expression going artificially bright, “it’s all right. It’s just…been a long day.” You glance over your shoulder as your giggling group of friends. “A really long day.”

Javi lifts his glass towards yours. “I’ll drink to that.”

Your smile has returned as you tap your glass to his, and Javi sips slow, savouring the burn down his throat. “I’m Javier, by the way,” he says, and sticks his hand out. “Javier Peña.”

You give your own name in return, taking his hand. Soft, is his first thought, the warmth of your palm against his making him jolt. You’re still shaking when the bartender turns back with a tray full of your ordered drinks. Behind you, Javier can hear your cohorts screeching your name.

“I better take these over there,” you say, your voice turning sheepish, reluctantly letting go of his hand. He doesn’t miss the hesitation, and it makes his chest puff out a little. He just nods as you slide your own drink onto the tray, thanking the bartender and sliding another few bills across the bar as you try and lift the tray as carefully as possible. “Maybe I’ll see you later?” you say, and Javi just nods some more.

He watches you walk away, and wonders if the swing in your hips is deliberate. His mouth goes dry, and he sucks back more of his whiskey.

Another few hours pass, and Javier is decidedly sober, too worn out to order another drink and suddenly desperate for his bed. He thanks the bartender and closes his tab, waves goodnight, and heads for the door. He has to pass your table as he goes — he’s surprised you’re all still here; the bar is relatively dead — and with a stutter in his chest he realizes you are nowhere to be found. There are a few harmless catcalls thrown his way by your friends as he pushes open the door and heads for his truck.

“You leaving without saying goodbye?” your voice calls, and he spins on his heel to see you leaned against the bricks, cigarette dangling between your fingers. “I think this is the only bar in Laredo that doesn’t let you smoke inside.”

He walks towards you, heart thumping with every step. “Possibly the only bar in the whole state.”

You give him one of those smiles again as he leans against the wall beside you. “Possibly.” You fish your pack from your purse, extend it towards him. “You want one?”

Javi eyes the pack, one filtered end poking out of the wrapper. “I shouldn’t,” he says after a beat, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Tryna quit.”

You laugh, taking a drag, tapping the ash and blowing the smoke in the opposite direction of you two. “Aren’t we all.”

“Promised my folks,” he tells you, staring down at his boots. “I’m taking over the family ranch for my dad and well…it’s a…”

“Long story?” you finish, dropping the cigarette to the pavement, stubbing it out with your heel. “One requiring a strong drink?”

Despite himself, Javier smiles, broadly, the kind that tugs at his cheeks until they almost hurt. “Exactly.”

“Wow,” you murmur, and there’s something in your tone that makes his head lift, cheeks heating when he sees the way you’re almost scrutinizing him.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you say with a shake of your head, pinching your lower lip between you fingers. “You just…you look adorable when you smile. You should do it more often.”

Before you can get another word out, your group bursts front the bar, your name slurred by multiple women, all of them beckoning you to follow. You sigh, pushing off the wall, and go to take a step before you pause, fishing a pen from your purse and grabbing his wrist.

“Use this,” you say, scribbling on his palm, a string of numbers that make Javi’s heart crawl up his throat, “if the spirit moves you. Or if you feel like telling long stories over strong drinks.” You smile, and for a moment, Javi wonders if the ground is about to open up and swallow him whole. Or if he’s about to wake up in a cold sweat in his bed, that this is all just a dream. That you are just a dream. “Goodnight, Javier.”

“Goodnight.”

Nope, not a dream.

He doesn’t call.

As soon as he gets home from the bar, he’s scribbling your phone number onto a scrap of paper, taping it to the cabinet beside the phone with your name, underlining the word CALL three times, so hard the ink bleeds through the paper. His head is spinning, admittedly tipsy from the whiskey, but more on you. He’s intrigued, he’s curious, he’s pulled in like a magnet facing north.

He wants to see you again.

It sparks something in his chest akin to forest fire, and damn it all, if that doesn’t scare him to death. Yes, there have been women since he came back from Colombia; he’s lonely, not celibate. But you…he can’t put his finger on it. Something about the way you laughed, the smile on your face, the way he wanted to spill his guts to you right there at the bar before you got pulled away, how he wanted to do it again outside when you were whisked away once more.

Monday morning, he taps the piece of paper bearing your number on his way out to start his day, making a mental note to call you once he’s done. He’d managed to talk himself in and out of it at least ten times over the weekend, but Monday felt right. A new week, fresh start.

Except, he’d been lazy Saturday and lazier Sunday, skipping more than half the daily chores, which leaves him playing catchup most of the morning, well into the afternoon, only starting Monday’s tasks as the sun starts to dip in the sky. By the time he hauls his ass through the door, it is late, the sky black and the clock on the stove reading quarter to twelve.

He talks himself out of calling you then easily; it’s late, you are probably asleep. He doesn’t want to wake you.

By Wednesday, he’s caught up on his daily chores, and is through the door by six. A reasonable time to call. But a tiny voice in his head says NO, and he takes a long shower instead.

Thursday seems promising, but when he picks up the receiver, the damn thing starts ringing before he’s even had a chance to dial, and suddenly Steve Murphy’s voice is on the other end, barking at him. “Javi! We still on for dinner tomorrow?”

He fucking forgot.

“Uh, yeah!” Javi chirps, trying not to sound as caught off guard as he feels. “Yeah, yeah, what time you think you guys’ll be here?”

“Six okay?”

“Yeah,” he says again, the word already feeling stiff on his tongue. “Yeah, six is great.”

“Good,” Steve replies. “Livvy’s excited to see her Uncle Javi.”

He forces a chuckle. “I’m sure she is.”

Steve pauses, and then, “You fuckin’ forgot, didn’t you?”

“Oh, shut up, Murphy,” he throws back. “See you tomorrow.”

Steve starts cackling. “Goodnight, Peña.”

The next day, he cuts his day short, in honour of his guests. He’s gotta cook a damn meal, for chrissakes, which means a trip into town for groceries other than whiskey and that instant mac and cheese garbage he’s been living off of. It’s easy, and tastes surprisingly good with a glass of Jack Daniels.

He’s not quite sure what leads him to wander into the bakery. It’s on the main drag, a few blocks down from the grocery store, and he managed to park his truck a few shops down. Something about the bright red awning draws him closer, his curiosity getting the better of him, and when he sees the array of sugary goodness in the window, his stomach rumbles something fierce, and before he can think twice, he’s pulling the door open, bells tickling above.

Javier goes absolutely stock-still when he sees you behind the counter.

The inside is just as bright as the out, candy stripes on the walls, illuminated display cases filled with all sorts of treats. One of those old-fashioned cash registers, brassy and imposing. You’re busy with another customer, handing the older woman a box tied with a bright red bow. You’re laughing as she says something, thanking her as she hands you money, grinning when you hand her back the change.

“Have a good night, Mary,” you say as the woman takes her box and turns. “Tell Paul I said he has to share that cake!”

The bell above the door rings again as the woman leaves, and then you and Javi are the only two standing there. There’s no way you haven’t realized that he—

“You never called.” Your voice is clear, unwavering, and you spread your hands wide on the countertop before leaning down and pushing your chin into your hand, nailing him to the spot with your stare. Javi stares at his boots.

“I know,” he starts, reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck. “I know, I was gonna, I just…” He pauses, inhales deeply and lifts his head. “I don’t have an excuse, I’m sorry.”

You balk slightly, brows raising as you straighten, stepping a little closer until there’s only the counter separating the two of you. “Wow, how honest of you.” The corner of your mouth quirks, but it’s not remotely close to the smiles you’d offered at the bar that night. Your shoulder lifts. “It’s okay, you know, if you didn’t want to call. I won’t get upset or something.”

“No,” he says far too quickly. “No, cariño, believe me, I wanted to. I really wanted to, and I have been meaning to. This is just…” He pulls at his collar, shoving his hand through his hair. Fuck, it’s hot in here. Or is it just him? “Would you have dinner with me?” he breathes out the question, the words a rush. “Saturday?”

You almost flinch, your eyes widening. Javi tenses, waits for the rejection he believes is coming. Why would you agree? He never called, even after meeting you in that bar had felt like the first good thing in a long time, and then he just shows up here, clearly where you work, out of the blue, bewildered as all hell, and asks—

“Yes.”

Javi can’t stop the smile that breaks across his face, and you give him one to match. His heart is racing. He steps closer to the counter. “I should have called.”

You nod, agreeing. “You really should have.”

“I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“It’s my aunt’s place,” you explain, toying with the string of your apron. “My cousin moved to Florida for school, and she really needed the help, so here I am.” You lift a finger, pointing it in the air. “And no, that’s not the long story requiring alcohol.”

Javier chuckles, crossing his arms over his chest. “Then I look forward to hearing the actual story.”

“As you should,” you say, your expression turning almost triumphant. “You should bring a notebook; I might just quiz you after.”

He laughs again. “I’m sorry I didn’t call.”

You lean forward on the counter, the space between you growing even smaller. “Play your cards right on Saturday, and I might just forgive you.” You glance around, eyes darting towards the door before your voice drops. “Though, there’s one thing I think we need to do before then.”

“What’s that?”

Without another word, you reach out, curling your fingers in the collar of his shirt and dragging him down to your level. You kiss him soft, lips meeting so gently Javi can feel himself melting into you already. Your mouth tastes like powdered sugar.

His cheeks are on fire when he pulls back, immediately licking the taste of you off his lips, half a mind to kiss you again. You’re beaming, thumb tucked between your teeth, and Javi almost stumbles back a step. “I should…” He rubs the back of his neck, gesturing towards the door. “I’m gonna—”

“Okay,” you say, the word tinged with laugher. “So, Saturday?”

“Saturday,” he agrees. “I’ll pick you up at seven?”

“Seven is good.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” you echo, another little grin on your face. “Goodbye, Javier.”

“Bye.”

He’s halfway to his truck when he realizes he didn’t get a fucking dessert, or your address. He abandons the idea of the former as he clambers back into his truck and starts the engine; he’s sure Connie will bring something, perfect guest she is.

As for the latter, well, it’s a perfect excuse to call you.

#sleepover saturday #my fics #javier peña #javier pena imagine #javier pena x you #javier pena x reader #javier pena fluff #javier pena fic #the ranch #javier pena fanfiction

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lionlena · 11 months

Text

A girl from the street (JavierPeñaxf!reader)

Summary: You're a CIA agent who's only been in Colombia for a week, but your boss is already throwing you into the worst shit. You have to pretend to be a prostitute, and just when things get bad, this handsome guy shows up.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, smut, reader is undercover as a prostitute, women harassment, curses, oral sex, pussy eating, protect sex, use a condom, Javi is a little asshole.

A/N: Y/LN - your last name

You always thought you joined the CIA to change the world. You wanted to show that women can be strong, independent, and kick bad guys' asses. You ended up standing on a street corner dressed like a whore and having to endure the presence of a fat man who smelled of sweat and insisted you give him a blowjob.

How did it happen? Oh yes. Stechner, your boss. A dick like few in this world. He hated women. He hated even more women who wanted to climb the rungs of the ladder called careers. That's why you came to Colombia. In America, you didn't have a chance to get promoted as quickly as here. One thing you didn't foresee... Bill Stechner was a fucking prick.

Already in the first week of your work (you haven't even had time to unpack and meet your co-workers yet) he decided that you would be great for observing a suspicious type. On the surface, the task was simple. You had a camera built into your handbag and you were just supposed to take pictures when your "subject" will walk into the bar. You were supposed to document with whom and when he enters the bar. Of course, Stechner decided that you couldn't just stand in the middle of the street as a tourist, because that would surely arouse someone's suspicions. There were also no convenient vantage points nearby, so that was out of the question as well. So what plan did this prick come up with? You will pretend to be a whore. After all, it's normal in Colombia for prostitutes to stand in the streets for long hours waiting for customers. A really brilliant plan. It's just a pity he didn't anticipate real customers coming to you.

You got rid of the first one quickly. You saw that he was poor, so you gave a very high amount. The guy left quickly.

The other looked like someone who rarely used prostitutes. You sensed his uncertainty, so you said he'd have to use a condom, preferably two because you're sick. He ran away so fast you almost laughed.

In the meantime, your "object" has arrived. You pressed the appropriate button on the bottom of the bag and you were sure that you would be able to disappear in no time. Unfortunately, a short, fat guy approached you, he looked to be in his fifties and looked like someone who used whores a lot. He held out some bills towards you and said:

"You're going to blow me in that alley."

You felt disgusted and replied, "No."

The guy raised his eyebrows and looked you up and down and you realized you made a mistake. You were still undercover and you didn't know who this guy might be. In Colombia, potentially, any guy could belong to some drug cartel. If he started fighting you and discovered what you had in your purse, things could get really ugly. Of course, things would be different if the moron (your boss) gave you the support you asked for. But he stated that it was such a simple task that he would not involve additional agents. Just fucking awesome. You tried to salvage the situation somehow.

"I'm sorry, stallion, but I'm waiting for a regular customer."

The guy snorted and gave you a really dirty look.

"You've been standing here for an hour and you haven't had any customers, I think you can do your job in ten minutes."

Pfff, sure... He probably wouldn't even last a minute.

You tried to reply in the sweetest voice you could muster: "I'd rather not risk it."

"Okay. I'll wait. If that regular customer of yours doesn't show up soon, I'll drag you there by your hair and fuck you for free."

The guy walked a few meters away and leaned against the wall of the building. He watched you like a hawk. Fuck. Thanks so fucking much Stechner. You frantically considered your options.

To suck his dick... Hell no!

Leave. He'll probably start following you.

So what?

And then, out of nowhere, a handsome guy appeared in front of you. He was wearing a navy blue shirt, a leather jacket, and dark jeans. He had dark, thick hair, some of it falling over his forehead. He had a dark mustache under his nose. His brown eyes made you trust him. And he was hot... Very hot.

"Hey, beauty." He licked his lips and gave you a flirty look. "Maybe I'll take you to my home for the night. I'm paying double."

You made your decision quickly. You didn't have a gun, no badge, and you'd probably have to break that fat prick's arm when he tried to rape you. The guy in front of you looked clean and reasonably nice.

You put your hand on his shoulder and smiled broadly, "Let's go."

He grabbed your waist and led you to his car. Once inside you asked, "So what should I call you, sweetheart?"

"Javier. And you?"

"Y/N," You told him your real name, deciding it didn't matter anyway.

Okay, maybe going to the apartment with a stranger wasn't the smartest thing to do, but prostitutes did it all the time. True?

(Maybe you would have known this if you had talked to a real prostitute beforehand, but Stechner of course decided it was unnecessary.)

If you had any fears, they were dispelled the moment you entered his apartment and Javier pulled you close and kissed you. He knew how to do it. He wasn't pushy, but he knew how to apply the right pressure. His hand traveled down your back. And you, being so close to him, could smell his intoxicating scent. When he pulled away from you, he winked at you.

"Whiskey?"

"Umm... Yes."

He tossed his jacket onto the couch and that's when you saw it. FUCK! He had a gun in his belt. How could you not notice it before? You were a fucking CIA agent. You're about to die the stupidest death in history. However, just as you were contemplating how to escape, Javier put his gun down on the table and took his badge out of his pants pocket. He glanced at you and apparently noticed you gulping nervously. He waved his badge and asked, "Does that bother you?"

And then, if you were sensible, you'd tell him the truth. "Hey, that's funny. We're workmates. My badge is at home, but I'm with the CIA, and that's my cover."

Unfortunately, your mind has been overcome by the pressure building up between your legs. You've heard that some people get turned on by role-playing, but you never thought you also. Technically, Javier was the unwitting one, but that didn't count. You carefully hung your purse on the hanger near the door and looked at him.

"No. You just don't look like a cop."

Javier laughed and pulled a cigarette out of his pocket.

"That's what it's all about, Lovey."

You nodded, knowing full well that it made sense. The bandits couldn't see you, as an agent from a mile away. You walked over to the couch, glancing at his badge. You noticed the sign and realized he was from DEA. Well, that was probably another moment when you should have backed off. You knew that CIA and DEA agents had a conflict with each other. But then Javier undid a few buttons on his shirt, revealing shiny skin. He handed you a glass of alcohol and you couldn't take your eyes off him. You sat back and took a good gulp, savoring the taste and the warmth spreading in your stomach. Javier knelt beside you, his hand traveling from your thigh to your knee, down your calf, and lingered on the straps of your boots.

"Why don't we get rid of this first?"

Oh god, you couldn't be more grateful to him. You weren't used to wearing such high boots and your legs were dying after standing for so long. He efficiently held a cigarette in his mouth, and with his hands freed you from this shoe nightmare. He placed one of your feet on his thigh, close to his crotch, and you could feel the tension in his pants. He took a few more puffs on his cigarette and stubbed it out. He reached for your glass and placed it on the table. Then his hands spread your thighs apart and one hand found its way to your panties. You were soaked and Javier liked it.

"Hmm, you're ready for me now." One of his fingers slid under the fabric of your panties and hooked your clit. You groaned and lifted your hips. "Yes, like this."

Then you started to wonder if this is normal. As a prostitute, you're supposed to please him. But maybe he was one of the few guys who got turned on by treating whores that way. You decided to start rubbing his crotch with your foot. Javier threw his head back and groaned.

"Yes, yes... That's right, sweetie. You're good at it."

The praise from his mouth made your cheeks blush.

After a moment, he gently removed your foot and removed his toe from your panties. You groaned in displeasure, but he just patted your leg.

"We're wearing too many clothes. Get up, hermosa ."

You didn't know how he did it, but you were ready to obey his every command without resistance. Maybe it was his voice. Maybe it's his big hands. Maybe broad shoulders. Maybe it all combined to make him so sexy and you really wanted to fuck him.

You got up, but Javier was still kneeling in front of you. In one swift motion, he took off your short skirt and panties. He then took off his shirt and then wrapped his arms around your legs and started pulling you towards him. You stood a bit unsteadily with your pussy so close to his face, but his hands held you steady. He kissed the inside of your thigh and murmured:

"Let me taste you."

That was the only warning you got before his face buried itself between your thighs. Were it not for his strong arms, you would have jumped in surprise. His tongue masterfully circled your clit. Your knees pressed against his body and at one point you had to grab his head to find some way to keep your balance. Though you were sure he wouldn't let you fall. You tugged at his hair and he moaned right into your pussy, but his tongue didn't leave you for a moment. It devoured you like a thirsty animal, and your legs grew weaker and weaker. His mustache rubbing against your sensitive skin was an added stimulus.

"Javier... Jav ..." you moaned. " Javi ... Fuck..."

You felt a familiar warmth building up in your belly and knew you were close. You thought if he treated all the prostitutes that way, they were probably paying him.

Suddenly his tongue pushed into you. His nose poked at your sensitive bundle of nerves. You tilted your head back, arched your back, and your legs began to shake. You felt Javier tighten his grip as if encouraging you to come. You let out a loud moan and came. Javier ran his tongue over your labia a few more times before helping you fall onto the couch. You were breathing heavily, but you still wanted more. Javier stood up and you reached your hand towards his crotch. There was already a wet stain from pre-cum on the bottom of his jeans. He smiled and licked his lips. His beard was still glistening with your juices. He leaned over to you and murmured:

"Do you want to taste how delicious you are?"

He connected his lips to yours and you willingly let his tongue inside. As he pulled away from you, he winked at you and asked, "Can I fuck you?"

God?! Who was he and why was he asking? Your pussy was already twitching uneasily at the thought of his cock. You groaned and nodded your head.

He took off his pants and his cock popped out standing proudly. His tip was covered with little droplets of pre-cum. You groaned in delight. It was big, but not in a terrifying way. It was big enough for you to feel full.

Javier smiled and reached into his wallet to pull out a condom and... You were really grateful to him.

Well, that would be the "perfect" end to your career if you found out that after just one week of being a CIA agent in Colombia, you got pregnant by a DEA agent while being undercover as a prostitute. You would become a legend of the department. And not in a good way.

After a while, Javier knelt on the couch between your legs and positioned himself right next to your pussy. He began to enter you gently, and you felt the walls of your vagina stretch. When half of his cock was already inside you, he made one quick thrust so that his entire length was inside your warm, moist interior. You groaned and bit your lip. Javier paused for a moment, letting you get used to the stretch. He started to place gentle kisses on your breasts trying to distract you from discomfort. When he felt you relax, he began to move his hips. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and wrapped your legs around his back. You dug your heels into him, signaling him to speed up. Javier lowered his head and panted right next to your ear, making your excitement grow with every second. You felt yourself slowly getting closer to another orgasm. Your nails dug into his back.

"Yes," he growled. "Come on, on my cock. Come on, muñequita."

You started moaning and as you came your vagina tightened around his penis. Javier put his hands behind your back to lift you up. You screamed at the sudden change of position. He put one of his legs on the floor for better leverage and began thrusting into you at a brutal pace. He moaned louder and louder, and as his movements became more chaotic, you knew he was close.

When he came he placed you on the couch. He collapsed onto your body, burying his face between your breasts and panting heavily.

You were both coming off your orgasms. You started to gently stroke his nape, right at the hairline. You didn't know where the sudden surge of affection came from. You were probably still on a post-orgasm high. Javier muttered something unintelligible against your skin.

"What are you saying?"

He raised his head slightly.

"Stop doing that." You were about to apologize to him when he kissed your breast and added, "Or else I'll fall asleep on top of you and you'll be pinned down by my weight all night."

You giggled lightly and he sighed and gently pulled out of you. He got up from the couch and disappeared into the bathroom for a moment, where he threw away the condom. When he returned, he put on his pants, lit a cigarette, and stood by the window. You stretched out on the couch and enjoyed watching the muscles in his back. Javier turned to you.

"And good advice for the future, you should have support when you're undercover."

You huffed and sat up quickly on the couch. You looked at him and waited for his next words. But he was still standing there with a stupid smirk on his face and a cigarette between his lips.

"Did you know?!"

"From the beginning. Sorry, honey, but I know a lot of prostitutes and none of them act like you. You obviously haven't done your homework."

You huffed angrily and crossed your arms over your chest.

"It's that dick Stechner fault. I've only been here a week and he's already pushed me into the worst shit." You shot Javier an angry look. "And for your information, I asked for support, but he refused me."

Javier finished smoking and sat next to you. He began to gently stroke your bare hip. It's strange that you still didn't feel ashamed being completely naked.

"So CIA. We have more in common than I thought. Apparently, we both don't like Stechner," he muttered and leaned closer to you. "If you want to switch departments, let me know. It's not worth wasting your time with an asshole like Bill."

You laughed slightly and shook your head.

"Because it's better to work with an asshole like you agent..." You gave him a suggestive look and he replied "Agent Peña". You nodded and finished, "Agent Peña? You could have told me you knew about my cover."

"I could." He moved even closer to you. "But you could have told me too. I thought waving my badge would be suggestive enough." He brushed his fingers across your belly. "However, for some reason, you made a different decision." The other of his hands cupped your cheek. "Can I make it up to you somehow?" His hand moved between your thighs.

And all of your anger suddenly vanished. He mesmerized you with those brown eyes and you didn't resist as he pulled you into a kiss.

You will regret it later.

You regretted it two days later.

You just walked into your boss's office and found Javier there. You had to use all your skills to keep a neutral face. It looked like they had had some heated discussion with each other a moment earlier because both had anger in their eyes. However, Javier immediately softened when he saw you. Stechner, on the other hand, quite dismissively said:

"This is our new addition. Agent Y/LN. Meet Agent Peña. Unless you've met before."

You tentatively stretched out your hand towards him. Peña could have easily compromised you. One word or a stupid question: "You're not a prostitute?" was enough.

Javier smiled and shook your hand.

"Unfortunately not. I would certainly remember her."

Stechner rolled his eyes, and you returned the smile and quietly breathed a sigh of relief. Javier was an asshole, but he respected women. You already knew that if he ever needs your help, you'd be happy to help him and give him all the dirt you can find about your boss.

#javier pena #narcos #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x reader #javier pena and you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #agent pena #javier is a little asshole

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lavendertales · 2 years

Text

New eyes—Javier Peña x f!reader

Chapter 1 of the Unholy series

summary: the new colleague Javier & Steve are supposed to show around is the last person on earth Javier would want to see.

word count: 1.9k

A/N: many thanks to @pedropascalsx for basically inspiring me to write this Lay it on me 2.0 as I like to call it. Hope you enjoy the ride!

gif: @azertyrobaz

series masterlist | AO3

“I hate this.”

“You already said that.”

“Well, I really do. I really, really do.”

“You already said that, too. Stop being a big baby.”

Javier throws his hands in the air and rolls his eyes for what feels like the millionth time that afternoon alone. There’s nothing Steve can say that would soothe him, nor does his colleague wish to fix things.

Ever since ambassador Noonan asked them to show around a new colleague, Javier had been in a grumpier mood than usual. He believed that all of their time and resources should be spent on catching Escobar and his cartel, not acting as guides around the embassy. He’s made no efforts in hiding his displeasure, going as far as asking Noonan to remove him from this task.

“Not a chance, Peña,” she told him with a firm tone.

“Why not let Murphy take this one? Why do you need me in on this?”

“Because you two are some of our finest DEA agents, and your new colleague needs to see professionalism. Is that understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

And that was it. No room for arguments or more complaints. Javier embraced the idea, though he still hated it.

“Don’t act like you’re better than showing some new guy around,” Steve tells him.

“I just think we could be spending our time looking for Escobar or his men instead of playing tourists with a newbie.”

“Come on, it won’t be that bad. We just gotta show him around a little, update him on the Escobar case and that’s pretty much it.”

“You left out the part where Noonan asked us to basically babysit this newbie.”

This time, Steve is the one who rolls his eyes upon noticing his partner’s stubbornness.

“All she said was to mentor him in his first few days.”

“Babysitting.”

“Just shut up already, it’s not a big deal.”

Javier crosses his arms and leans against the desk, eyes set on the embassy’s far entrance. Even he realizes he’s complaining loud and proud, but he can’t seem to help himself. He’s really in no mood to show some overly-enthusiastic, fresh out of the Academy boy how things are done. But what else can he do, especially since Noonan gave him no choice?

He just has to suck it up and get through the day.

It’s easier said than done, though; he checks his watch once every two, three minutes, hoping, nearly praying that nine o’clock arrives faster. He keeps staring at the entrance, waiting for the figure of some 22 year old boy with too many life goals to be crushed already.

It’s only when Steve taps him on his shoulder as he’s busy checking his watch yet again that Javier nearly tastes bile in his mouth when he swallows.

His pupils are blown out, his lungs pump an unusual amount of air and he nearly chokes on nothing. He can’t believe it. This is no boy—this is a woman, in all of its beauty and meanness alike. A woman he hadn’t seen since he was a young boy attending the Texas College of Arts and Industries—Texas AI, as many alumni referred to it—and one he hadn’t thought he’d see, certainly not under these circumstances, and certainly not in Colombia, of all places.

He doesn’t move a single muscle. He can’t—all he can do is stare as Steve goes to welcome said woman.

Time has been very kind to you: you definitely look more mature and well-traveled through life. There are many contradicting feelings going around in Javier’s mind, from reminiscing all the competitiveness between you and him, to instant attraction.

Attraction he loathes from the moment it starts consuming his whole being.

“Welcome aboard,” he hears Steve greet you, then he sees him shake your hand. “I’m Steve Murphy, one of your—ah, what the hell, let’s say guides.”

Javier hears you chuckle, a sound so crystal clear, so calming and playful, it messes with his head completely. That is not how he knows you, and that ruins him even more.

“And this—”

Steve takes a few wide steps to reach Javier, pulling him in by the arm and thus pushing him face to face with you. While his facial expression drops, yours brightens up into a cocky smile.

“This is— “

“Well I’ll be damned,” you say. “Javier Peña in the flesh. Oh, what a treat this is!”

Steve frowns. “How do you guys know each other?”

You open your mouth to reply, and so does Javier, but Steve’s frown deepens as the wheels in his mind start spinning.

“Don’t tell me you slept with her!” he exclaims and slaps Javier’s arm.

His partner throws him a deadly glare, one that cut easily cut through him.

“God no,” Javier mutters, avoiding your eyes.

“Yeah, there’s not enough money in the world,” you smile and purposely stare him down.

“So then, how do you guys know each other?”

When Javier falters, you take it upon yourself to clarify the situation. This brings you immense delight, much more than you would’ve thought.

Turns out your first day on the job is shaping up way better than you would’ve anticipated.

“We went to college together,” you say. “We weren’t… the best of friends.”

Javier scoffs mockingly. “We were very competitive with each other.”

“Academic rivals, if you will.”

Steve makes a face. “Never thought I’d hear about Javi fighting to have higher grades, and with a woman, no less.”

That particular piece of information catches your attention.

“Why with a woman in particular?” you ask, a cheeky smile still residing on your lips.

“Well… Javi’s known for being… an affectionate guy.”

“Cut it out, Murphy.”

“So he’s a man whore.”

Javier rolls his eyes and finally returns your stare. He sees the cockiness in your bright, intelligent eyes; he sees the venom in them, the thirst for affirmation, the competitiveness, everything from back then wrapped in a single lethal stare.

“Somehow it doesn’t surprise me,” you say.

“My personal life doesn’t concern you,” Javier replies dryly. “You’re here for work and that’s it.”

You raise your eyebrows, admittedly, pleasantly surprised.

“Fair point. Will you be parading any eligible ladies by the office, per chance?”

Javier feels his blood start to boil in his veins; he clenches his teeth, unwilling to let his competitiveness get the best of him, not on his territory. This is his territory, after all. He’s supposed to show you how things work over there, not the other way around.

“Should we get moving?” he asks Steve directly. “Lot of work to do.”

“I see you play your college cards well.”

Steve turns to you, oddly curious now. “What college cards?”

“Oh, he had plenty. Whenever we butted heads regarding our courses and I said something he had no answer for, he pretended like he didn’t hear you and changed the subject entirely to not make himself to look like a fool.”

That makes Steve chuckle loudly, much to Javier’s anger. “He does do that!” he laughs at the realization.

“I could say plenty of things back to you, princess,” he mutters through gritted teeth. “But I wouldn’t want to wrinkle your ego.”

You lean in towards him, your mouth unreasonably close to his own. He shudders, but he shakes it off quickly.

“Mine’s bigger than yours,” you smile.

Something roars inside Javier’s chest, something loud and big and powerful. It gets stronger as he stares you down, yet he fights his usual instincts. This is no usual woman he’d take to bed. This is his old nemesis, his academic rival and enemy in every way.

Now, an enemy in the workplace.

“Remember you said it first,” he retorts.

“So, office tour first?” Steve offers, and you nod.

Javier stays a little behind, his own thoughts drowning out every other sound.

Out of all the people available… it had to be you.

So many DEA agents capable, and you had to show up. Sure, you were undeniably gifted in the world of academics, as shown by your final GPA results, but you were absolutely obnoxious when it came to comparisons. At least that’s how you were with Javier. You two were sworn enemies from your first semester in the first year: every course you had together was motive for competition. Whoever had the biggest grade, was known to be the best. It wasn’t planned; you simply seemed to bring out that side of Javier, passionate and feisty. But never in the way might one think of nowadays.

He lets Steve guide you around, show you the offices, telling you all the details regarding the team. He watches you be introduced to Carrillo, Trujillo and eventually, ambassador Noonan herself. Through all of those interactions that you have, Javier studies you carefully. You appear like an entirely different person with everyone else. You smile brightly, professionally, revealing the same academic competence as when you were 20 years old. Yet with him, you’re feisty, arrogant, pushy, and downright unbearable to listen to. He can’t help but think the real you is the one he sees, not those surrounding you.

But he can’t dwell on it too much, nor does he care enough to do so. All he cares about is finding a way to make things tolerable at the office, now that his territory had been brutally invaded by enemies.

“I trust you’re on your best behavior, Peña.”

Noonan’s voice awakens him. He realizes they’re standing in the same spot, all looking at you as if it’s some sort of welcome party.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies absentmindedly.

She then draws attention to you again, and Javier catches a glimpse of your wide, proud smile, utterly unimpressed.

“You’re gonna be working closely with Horacio and his team. I trust you’ve met Trujillo and Ramirez, and of course, Murphy and Peña.”

“Yes, I have had the pleasure of meeting all these incredible men. Even Peña,” you smile at him directly.

His blood boils again. He swears he feels blisters forming at the surface of his skin from all that white, hot anger. It’s impossible to ignore that feeling, yet somehow he still pulls it off. He has to. Though in all honesty, he is astounded by the fact that you make no attempt in hiding your displeasure at having him around, but he doesn’t care.

He can’t. He’s never viewed as anything more but competition. Plain and simple.

“I think you’ll fit in with the team quite well,” Noonan seems to be ending some sort of welcome speech.

“Thank you very much, madam ambassador.”

Javier catches your eyes and sucks his cheeks in, making sure you know he’s just as unpleasantly surprised as you might expect him to be. He can’t let a pretty figure with shiny hair, a mouthful on her distract him from his mission. No matter how curious he might’ve once been from a physical point of view, he’s making a promise just as he keeps eye contact with you walking away with Steve: he won’t let your presence there disrupt his life in any way.

You won’t make or break him.

Not this time.

#Javier Peña #Javier Peña x reader #Javier Peña x you #Javier Peña fanfiction #Javier Peña fic #javier pena #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena fic #narcos fanfiction #narcos fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #unholy series

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mrsjavierpena · 4 months

Text

All the roads lead to a jar of pickles | Pickled Peña

summary: Javier keeps finding promises to make every New Year's Eve

pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

warnings: fluff, alusions to smut, mentions of narcos, no use of y/n, just javi being so in love and receiving the love he deserves

word count: 4k (yeah i got carried away

IMPORTANT: English is not my first language, i've done my best with grammar but there will be mistakes (fuck prepositions i hate them), so pls overlook those

an: this is a one shot to the @pickled-pena writing challenge! i was super excited to write this and it was indeed a challenge since tumblr decided to delete what i wrote twice, but i loved to participate. also, i procrastinated and literally wrote this right before posting to no lose tbe deadline (not proud, but i made it

hope you enjoy it!

Javier didn't use to be a man to make many promises. He made a few during the years, promises like quit smoaking, clearing Colombia from cocaine, to take care of himself for his mother on her deathbed; he didn't keep any of them. It wasn't like he didn't try, though, Javier was a man of word, things just went out of his control: he did arrest Los Pepes, but the traffic of coke was at full stem ahead even without them, consuming the country, ruining and taking lives of innocent people; it was logical to imagine that taking care of himself was more under his control, but honestly, Javier didn't even know how to do that anymore, his life going south for so long it felt like changing wasn't a possibility.

He still had his father, and living with him back in the ranch again definitely had Javier in the most healthy state of his life that time. His return to Laredo caused quite the commotion, him abandoning Lorraine in the alter was never forgotten, but being part of the chasing of Escobar got him in Laredo's good grace again, he was a hero after all. He hated all of it: the praises and congratulations he didn't deserve, the back pattings and hugs that invaded his personal space, the audacity the people had to 'forgive' him, as if they were people whose opinion he valued.

It's not like he wasn't used to it, he was born and raised there and small towns had small towns' issues, but that didn't mean it didn't piss him off still. His big, nosy family was a part of it, all over his head asking "what was his plan now that he was back home", about "getting a girlfriend to become a wife and finally have kids", because "he wasn't getting any younger" and "was the only single cousin". It was like all his concerns were thrown in his face. He loved them, they were all he had left, but god, didn't they make him feel like shit. Because he had accomplished nothing in forty years, and it was clear that every person around him could notice that too.

The coming of a new year was another reminder of that. During his years in Colombia, he didn't do much other than a dinner with Steve and Connie, neither of them was in the mood of anything fancy at that time, and when they left the country, he simply worked or, in the best scenario, slept. In Laredo, though, his family wouldn't miss an opportunity to throw a party.

"What are your resolutions for the next year, Javi?" his cousin asked.

They both were in the kitchen, the task to cut pickles in very thin, even slices given to them by one of their aunts. Javi stopped his work with the knife to not lose a finger as he side eyed his cousin.

"Don't look at me like that!" she laughed "I'm asking you a question"

"What do you mean?"

"Resolutions, Javi" she rolled her eyes "Like your wishes for the next year"

"You mean, like, manifesting? Are you into that shit?" he couldn't hide the frown on his face.

"No, Javier, not manifesting, even though there's nothing wrong with that" she gave him an irritated look "You write down what you would like to change in yourself, to be a better person next year"

"Is that your way to say that I'm an asshole, prima?" he narrowed his eyes at her and she laughed loudly.

"Well, not just that" she shrugged "I like to do that every year, helps me to keep focused in what I want. And I see the look in your eyes, Javi" she wore a sympathetic smile as her hands caressed his "You have dreams you want to chase, why not start by that?"

A loud scream made them both jump in their places, a tiny human coming through the kitchen threshold with his hands thrown up in the air.

"Mijo" she laughed at the child's prank and the boy giggled.

His cousin had been married for almost ten years by then, a little boy and one girl on the way. Her being younger than him and having accomplished his dreams made a claw made of jelousy wrap its nails around his throat.

Javier wanted a wife, he wanted to marry someone he loved, he wanted to build a family of his own, he just was focused on the wrong things at the wrong time.

So he decided to start with something that should be simple, only one promise to himself: to meet someone in the coming year.

It should have, didn't mean it was, though. It was scary, he found out, to get to know someone after so long, especially at a small town where he knew almost everyone. Javier never had problems to get laid, but most of the woman he hooked up with didn't really seem interested in more than that, after a while it started to feel like a him problem. That being said, Javier didn't know how to start, so the next time another cousin of his said that he would really get along with a co-worker he had, he finally accepted.

The date was... awkward, to say the least. They went to the most popular restaurant in Laredo, every person there looking at him the whole evening; she didn't seem to mind the attention, but Javier did. He tried to make conversation, to ask about her interests, to compliment her, but he was as rusty as a cheap aluminum pot left in the rain for months, years, in his case. She would ask a lot about him, too, but not his hobbies or what he liked to hear on the radio, she would ask about Escobar, how was it like to catch bad guys, if he still had his gun. Javier tried to change the subject, but she would insist on talking about Colombia. She was curious, it was normal, he was used to it, but what a damn turn off it was. Javier felt like being in an interview, the atmosphere heavier and heavier as the questions were getting more and more personal, and by the first hour of the date, he was wishing he was at home.

Javier had this happening before, during his time chasing Los Pepes, the media would be all over him asking all sorts of questions, work related or not, and he hated it. If she wasn't an acquaintance of his cousin, he would even consider her being a fucking journalist, because it was not normal to act like that with someone you had just met.

So after that, Javier was pretty dismotivated to continue his chasing, but his family had already found out he was giving love a chance and wouldn't leave him alone. Apparently, there were many "young women" interested in Javier, according to his aunts. Javier wasn't really comfortable being putten in that position again, but decided to give it a try - few tries, actually. Blide dates were exhaustive and the most of them very unpleasant. In a blink of eyes, it was New Year's Eve again and Javier was still not in a relationship, another failed promise in his mind.

"Well, your plan was to meet someone, and technically you met, like, twenty new women. I would call it a success" Javier rolled his eyes at his cousin's attempt to cheer him up.

"There must be something very wrong with me" he sighed and she pouted.

"Don't say that, Javi! All of them wanted to go on a date with you, you were the one to reject them"

"I know, but- I don't know" he scratched his chin "They all looked at me as if I saved the world, and it's not like that, you know it's not"

She moved the newborn to her other side and sitted closer to him in the couch settled outside the house where they had been chatting for the last hour. Javier looked at the baby in her arms and felt his throat tighten.

"You think so little of yourself, Javi" all her attention was on him, but his eyes didn't meet hers "I know you didn't "save the world", but you tried to make a difference and gave your best to do so, you can't reject a girl just because she admires you"

Javier had done things terrible enough for the good ones to be irrelevants, had let shit happen when he should have tried to stop them, and he had told her that, not in details, but she was the only person beside him and Steve to know, and still thought he was a good person. And yeah, maybe he wasn't so bad after all, but he imagined letting one of those women inside, their eyes shining with pride, letting himself love her, feeling safe enough to tell her about everything and her never seeing him the same way, giving up on him because of his baggage, he knew he would if he could, so how could he put such a burden upon someone's shoulders? Who would want that?

"But I understand, I think" she spoke again, her free hand patting his shoulder "It must feel strange having someone knowing so much about you and you knowing nothing about them. Maybe you shouldn't go on these shitty arranged dates and find someone on your on"

"Yeah, I think you're right" he took her hand in his and gave her knuckes a light peck "Thank you"

"Mijo" Chucho's head appeared on the frame of the door "Would you do me a favor?"

"Of course, Pops" he stood up.

"Your aunts forg-" he was interrupted by shoutings coming from the kitchen:

"You stand there and accuse me, but where were you at the time?" was the voice of one of his aunts "Strolling through the corridors looking for fruitcakes when it's not even the season anymore!"

"You leave my fruitcakes alone!" another aunt shouted back "I don't hear you complaining when you're eating them!"

Javier looked at his father with his brows raised in curiosity, and the old man sighed "Your aunts forgot the jar of pickles, would you mind driving to the tienda?"

"No, I don't"

Most of the commerces were already closed at that time of the evening, but the tienda was the one place everyone in Laredo could count to be open at any time. The owners greeted him when he passed through the door, trying to small talk, and he turned them down the nicer way he could, wishing them a happy new year and going straight to the aisle he was supposed to. He heard the sound of broken glass followed by cursings coming from further in the store and found you staring miseraly at a burst jar of pickles on the floor, the vinegar smell all over the air and a basket full of groceries supported on your hip.

"You okay?" you looked up at him and he felt the the wind knocked out of him; you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life.

"I am, yeah, that isn't" you pointed to the jar and he smiled.

Probably imagining what had happened by the noise, a man quickly showed up with a broom and a cloth to clear it up. You apologized profusely, saying that you could clean it up yourself while the man said it was no problem.

Javier looked at you one more time and left to get what he went there for. He had never seen you in the city before, and it wasn't like he was out of the ranch often - he tried very much not to -, but you should've been new there; the conversation with his cousin still fresh in his head. When he got to the dill pickles aisle, he shouldn't be surprised that you appeared in the other end of it, you had just dropped your jar after all.

"Hi again" you smiled as you walked towards him and he smiled back.

He felt something very similar to shyness creeping in his stomach "Hi"

"Just getting another one of this since mine decided this life just wasn't for him" you raised your hand and said your name.

"Javier" the handshake lingered a little longer than one normally would, your skin soft against his.

He saw the way you looked at him with interest, he should've asked you out. He should've, you were pretty, were his type and, if new in town, probably knew nothing about him. He should've, but he didn't. Thinking once then twice if he could've been reading it wrong, if you were just being nice and in the possibility to make you uncomfortable asking you out after exchanging two sentences in an aisl store. So he just took a jar, said goodbye, and left.

But something inside of him told him that you, with your bright smile and little jokes, could be the one. So he promised to himself to ask you out the next time he saw you.

And he did. After that day, he would go to the city every chance he had. He told his father he would start doing the groceries so he could rest. Chucho didn't buy that, but did nothing about it, he knew his son, so he knew better than to ask, when he wanted to talk to him, he would. It took a couple of months for him to see you again, in the most unexpected place he could think of. He had taken his father to an appointment in Houston, strolling around to pass the time when he saw you inside a café. His eyes widened and he was quick to move out of your sight before you saw him.

He was anxious, but he had been waiting for an opportunity for months and couldn't let it slide away again. Javier took a deep breath and entered the shop, a bell upon his head announcing his entrance. He pretended not to see you, going straight to the counter to ask for a coffee; he didn't want you thinking he was a stalker or something. While waiting for his drink, Javier would take glances in your direction, you sitted three tables away from him, an open book and a mug on the table before you. With his coffee in hands, he looked around and locked eyes with you, who smiled and waved at him. Even though there were plenty of unoccupied tables, Javier took confident steps towards yours.

"Mind if I join?" the smile you gave him made his skin prickle.

"Not at all" you marked a page in the book and closed it as he took a seat in the chair in front of you.

"I haven't seen you in a while" was his subtle attempt to start a conversation.

"Were you looking for me?" you rested your forearms on the table and lightly leaned in his direction.

Javier smirked, was that you flirting, or was he really that rusty? "I was, yeah"

"Good to know" you smiled again "I travel a lot for work, haven't really been in Laredo"

Before he could ask what you did for work, you asked what he was doing in Houston, so he told you about his father's semester appointment that was only available there, and that made you ask about Chucho's health, and then about the trip, since it was a very long one, but he told you he liked driving and used to do that with his parents a lot, which lead to talking about families, you said you weren't really close to yours, the conversation flowing with neither of you seeing the time pass. It was you the one to bring him back to reality, asking which time he was supposed to get Chucho in the hospital and making him realise that he was already late.

"Javier" you said as he quickly stood up to leave "I don't know if I'm reading this wrong, I really hope I'm not and I'm sorry if I am but-"

"Would you like to go out with me sometime?" the words left his mouth before without hesitation.

Your brows raised in surprised, but your smile could have brightened a whole galaxy "God, yes"

He called you the next day, not wanting to wait a minute longer than what he thought wasn't giving desperation. You set the date for the next week, when you would already be back in Laredo. He went to pick you up and got once more mesmerized by the sight of you; you laughed and affectionately squeezed his arm when he told you that. Javier took you to his favorite restaurant in the city, a cozy little place with delicious food his parents used to take him when his mother was still alive. The two of you talked the whole night: he found out that you were a photographer, had moved to Laredo a few months ago planning on settling down "I'm getting too old for all that traveling, and the house's prices are good" was what you told him. Your favorite food was mexican, you weirdly liked the smell of gasoline and wet soil, loved listening to music, still had your grandparents in your hometown so you visited often, wanted to have a dog but couldn't with your schedule, always dreamt of being a mother. You asked so much about him, too. Not the type of questions he was used to being asked, you tried to know him by asking about his childhood, more details about his parents because they seemed to have had such a beautiful love, if he had traveled out of Laredo before, which got him telling you he was a former DEA agent in Colombia, and he saw the curiosity in your eyes, he waited for the questions about that to come, but instead you just said you've had always wanted to visit South America. Years later, when he mentioned tour first date, you would tell him that you knew what was happening in Colombia at that time and that you knew better than to ask what could be invasive questions.

When you couldn't stay in the restaurant anymore because they had to close, Javier still didn't want the night to end, but drove you to your house still. As he took you to your door and wished you a goodnight, ready to leave, you held his upper arm and gave him a light peck on the lips. As if something snapped inside of him, Javier didn't give you the time to even open your eyes before his mouth were against yours again, tongues dancing together as if they already knew one another and had done this before, hands passing through each others bodies. When you asked him to go inside, he hesitated.

"I don't want you to think that's all I want" he vocalized his concerns.

"I don't" you took his face in your hands, brushed your lips on his and smiled "You're a catch, Javier Peña, I'm keeping you to myself"

Javier took his time with you, kissing every inch of your body, having you giggling and moaning and writhing under his touch. Unhurriedly making you his between wet kisses and moans and screams of his name. He would've stayed connected to your body for the rest of his life if he could've, but your agenda was booked for the rest of the year and all he could have was a couple of weeknds a month and long night's phone calls. But Javier took all you gave him without complaints, even though he missed you so much his chest tighted. He missed your smile, your laughter, your body next to his, your fingers through his hair, your kisses to wake him up in the morning, the way his name souded on your lips when he was inside of you, the weight of your head resting on his chest, the way your right leg would twine between his when you slept. The man was head over heels for you and knew you felt the same, all those nights the both of you cried on the phone, sick of being away from each other proved it.

But the both of you survived that tough time like champions, by then, the end of the year was near, and you went to get your grandparents at your hometown to spend the New Year's Eve with Javier's family, the people who raised you obviously being two of the best people he had ever met. His aunts were in love with you, the kids wouldn't leave you alone and his favorite cousin was so thrilled to finally meet you that she dramatically almost passed out. Everyone spent the night laughing and eating and talking, and watching from afar, he couldn't believe how well you fitted on his family, but he hadn't doubted for a second that everyone would love you, how could someone not to? So when he told you he loved you for the first time that night and you said it back without hesitation, Javier promised to be the best version of himself to get you to wear his mother's ring on your finger by the end of the next year.

Not everything was perfect, nothing ever is. You had some fights, you disagreed in a few things, but something you stablished the first time Javier gave in to old habits and tried to run away from the issue was that you wouldn't sleep without talking about it; no hitting doors, no leaving, no fucking the anger out, you talked and made the effort to change what was bothering. Javier had been in only one serious relationship before, with Lorraine, and damn what a difference it was. He couldn't blame neither of them, they were young and didn't know what they wanted; you, on the other hand, knew exactly what you wanted and it still shocked him that it was him. You wanted him, all flaws and errors and baggage included, you didn't let him shut you down when things got tough, and with time he learned to trust you, to count on you, to talk about his feelings, his walls slowly tumbling down. The day he told you everything about Colombia was the hardest he had ever been putten through, years of fighting drug dealers and putting his life at risk, and he had never been more frightened. Tears were shared, you didn't react very well to a few things, but you never dropped his hand, never interrupted, never distanced yourself, even thanked him for trusting you, and at the end he felt as light as a feather. You convinced him to go to therapy, emphasizing that he had to treat the psychological consequences of the terror he confronted back in Colombia.

After that, it seemed like you had reached a goal at your relationship, you spending more time at the ranch than at your own house, a great routine already settled, and you made it very clear you were ready to be asked in marriage when you said those exact words to him. Little did you know he was already planning on it, and one day, after photographing a wedding at a neighbor city, Javier welcomed you in the ranch with candles everywhere, a knee on the floor, tears on his eyes, his mothers ring in a velvet red box and the most heartwarming speech one could ever ask for. The wedding was quick to happen, neither of you wanted a big party, just your families and friends gathered in the ranch with the ceremony realized by a very emotional Chucho. Didn't take you long to get pregnant either, your life settled with you being called to take every photo in Laredo and Javier accepting a job at the Sheriff's Office; the both of you had decided to live with Chucho once he had injured his leg during work, him more than thrilled to have a grandbaby under his roof. Javi fell in love with you a little more every day that passed, more and more mesmerized by you and your growing belly. At the end of that year, he promised to be a father as good as the one he had.

And what a good father he was indeed. He dedicated his life to his family, providing all the love and dedication he had in him, gladly waking up during the nights to comfort his kids; yes, you both got tired as hell, made mistakes, got stressed sometimes, but you got the life of your dreams and the both of you had so much love to give that it didn't matter how hard things could get, you wanted it, all of it. With his one-year-old boy sleeping in his arms as you talked to your grandma on the other side of the room, your ring hand carressing your beautiful round belly that carried your next baby, he saw as his babygirl crossed the room shouting with her hands thrown up in the air to scare you, clearly influenced by her cousin, and you playfully shouted back. The dogs started barking and jumping at the commotion, the three-year-old giggling as you kissed her cheek.

Javier felt like his heart could explode inside of his chest, certain that there was no man alive happier than him, he thought about how lucky he was he went to get those pickles all those years ago. The journy the both of you had wasn't quite easy, the challenges you had to face, the expensive phone bills he got when you were apart, the fears he had to overcome, even those years in Colombia, he would have done it all again and again and again if it meant to be where he was at that very moment, to wake up everyday by your side, to always have you in the passanger seat to rest his hand on your thigh, to have the kids laughing and running around the house, to experiencing the type of love his parents had.

At that New Year's Eve, Javier kept the same promise he had been keeping the last years: to give his all to the family of his own.

"Javi, baby" you called him, your smile as wide as always "I'm craving pickles"

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