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lavendertales · 1 year

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Judas—Javier Peña x f!reader

Chapter 14 of the Unholy series

summary: Javier tells you everything about the loss of your father.

word count: 3k

A/N: ANGST. mentions of violence, injuries & guns.

gif: @300mirrors

series masterlist | AO3

The silence is deafening, not tranquil in the slightest. The more you look into Javier’s eyes, the more you struggle to see past the eyes of a traitor. You brawl and battle against the ugliest instincts in order to see the eyes of the man who has given you the best, most exciting years of your life, the man who has bewitched your body and heart alike.

You know you should be thinking rationally. That you know.

Yet your spirit bends at anger’s will, unable to stand back up and offer a proper resolution.

You don’t move, and neither does the gun pressed into Javier’s chest. He doesn’t move, either. Not on account of fear of the bullet.

He’s too afraid that one wrong move will drive you out of his life completely.

“Talk,” you murmur.

“Do you want to sit down?”

“You do the talking, I give the instructions.”

Javier complies, scarily easy too. He doesn’t sit down either; he merely leans against one of the desks and takes in a deep breath, avoiding your glare for now.

Turns out, reminiscing the worst thing you did to someone is no easy task and it can take quite the toll on anyone. His chest feels heavy, his mind a blur as he scrambles for each detail of that dreadful day, and all of his hopes of being with you utterly shattered.

“It was a day like any other,” he begins, voice husky, filled with instant regret. “I haven’t seen him before, just—so you know. He was another guy that needed to be taken down, a… name to scratch off a list.”

Hearing that makes you tremble and nearly spit out your disgust, right at Javier’s feet, but you refrain yourself from such malicious actions. Instead, your finger remains secure on the trigger, gun still pointing in his direction.

“I got to the office, Murphy walked in as well, and we went straight to Carrillo. We had a raid planned for that day, it was supposed to be at a local brothel. Carrillo handed me that mission. He and Murphy were going at a different location. It was me, and another three agents. Mateo, Diego and Raul. When we got there… it was an ambush. They knew we were coming, someone sold us out. There were four of Escobar’s men. There was Navigante, Quica, The Lion… and Michael.”

The sudden thought of your father in a whorehouse makes you sick to your very core. You make a face, unable to contain it, but quickly brush off the thought. Water under the bridge now, you think. After all, your mother had passed years before, and it’s not like she stuck around for either one of you.

“They scattered like rats immediately,” Javier continues, taking another deep breath in. “We went after them, shots were fired… and civilians got involved. It quickly turned into madness. They were shooting at random people on the street, making sure it was difficult for us to follow them without helping the others. But there was nothing we could do, they were dead by the first bullet. So we chased them for a while, but Navigante and the Lion got away. That left us with Quica and Michael. Those two were… madmen. I’ve never seen anything like it. I’ve never seen someone smile so widely while shooting and mutilating others.”

The word “mutilating” makes your skin crawl, and you’d hate to think that your father could possibly behave in such a twisted manner.

But you saw the file. You saw the pictures, the hard evidence displayed boldly in front of you, black and white on paper, indisputable. The pictures were, indeed, gruesome, and even reminiscing them is a heavy cross to bear.

“La Quica was the one who did most of that,” Javier seemingly puts your mind to rest with that sentence. “But your—Michael wasn’t that far behind. He—he enjoyed what he did. He had fun. He knew how to run and hide and to shoot. Quica was the one who took the first shot at us, and he got Raul right in the head. He dropped dead next to me. I kept shooting, trying to get one of them, either one of them. I knew at that point that they had to be killed. They left a trail of bloody corpses behind them and had no remorse about it. No shame, no guilt… there was nothing but happiness on their faces.”

The tragic part is that you can vividly portray those images, despite the hatred that you carry for the notion that your father was a notorious killer embarked on Pablo Escobar’s service. It seems like such a cruel sentence, to be able to portray a bloodbath of those proportions when you haven’t been present to witness it firsthand.

Perhaps on a deeper level, you acknowledge that your father could be capable of such atrocities. And it’s undoubtedly scary.

“I got Quica in the shoulder,” you hear next. “”Not much, but at least it got him to stop for a while. Then it was Michael. The moment Mateo took a breather to recharge the gun, he was a goner. Michael took the shot, killed him in a second. It was just me and Diego left, and Quica was back to back with Michael, shooting again like a fucking lunatic. Diego asked me what to do. He was following my orders, and I was following Carrillo’s. We were supposed to bring the most important faces for a confession, and Quica was one of them. Michael wasn’t. So I told him—“

Javier hesitates. He sees your face, drained of all color and emptied of any other facial expression but coldness, and he gulps. Your hand holding the gun doesn’t waiver, not even for a moment.

“Go on,” you tell him. “Say it.”

Javier is clever enough to know you won’t shoot him. You need to take control of whatever you can, to intimidate and show that you mean business, and if that’s how you need to proceed, then he will let you. He will not fight you.

Instead, he breaks for you; the sight wrecks him in the nastiest, most painful way. He wills himself to go on like you had asked him to.

“I told Diego to—take the shot. I told him that I’ll get Quica, and if he gets the chance to get Michael… he should.”

Silence installs itself in between you two again, more asphyxiating and crumbling than when you began. You review every word, imagine how it all went down, over and over again, and your eyes meet Javier’s for what feels the first time in months.

“And?” you demand.

Your voice is hollow, and it eats Javier alive to hear it so.

“And… he did,” he confirms. “He took the shot. He killed him.”

“At your order.”

“At my order.”

“And after?”

“La Quica shot Diego in retaliation, then ran, scared shitless. I called dispatch to let them know about the agents, got to the embassy in bloody clothes, signed the report about the failed mission, and… went home.”

This time, you purposely stare at him. You picture an exhausted Javier driving through the bloody streets of Medellin, his clothes stained with the blood of his colleagues—and who knows what else—and, to your surprise, you feel for him.

“What did you do then?” you ask.

Though surprised at the question, Javier gulps, trying to recollect his thoughts as he thinks back on the end of that day. He has a suspicion regarding your expectations as to what his past time activities were, but there’s no more harsh truth to be exposed.

“I took a shower. It didn’t wash away anything from that day. I lit a cigarette, drank half a bottle of whiskey, and stared out the window well into the night. I stared at Medellin at night, listening to the wind, the shouting, the happy screams like there was this… massive win to be celebrated. But the truth is, that day was just the tip of the iceberg. It would be one of the many bad days to follow.”

It’s somewhat impressive that your hand didn’t cramp up yet; you’ve been pointing that gun at him for over half an hour, and you are still going strong.

“Do you think he deserved it?” you ask out of the blue.

Javier stares at you bewildered, uncertain if he wants to respond to that question.

Though how could he possibly upset you even more?

“What are you asking me?” he says, tone unstable, much like himself.

“I am asking you if you think he deserved what he got,” you clarify. That’s when you pull back, crossing your arms at your chest as you tower slightly over Javier. “Do you think my father deserved to die? It’s a simple yes or no.”

Except it’s not. Not really.

Javier coos your name, his mental state in a worse shape now. But he knows you, inside out; the answer he has in his heart is the one you have as well, and he knows that. He knows you can’t help but rationalize everything, even this moment, even the grimmest moment of your life. You’ve always placed duty above personal gain.

And duty will win again.

“He was cruel and manic,” he replies. “He killed children. In broad daylight.”

“Yes or no, Javier.”

The way you pronounce his name, emptied of any emotion and yearning behind it, it both brings him back to life and kills him simultaneously.

“Yes,” he finally answers.

Your facial expression doesn’t change. The glare you exchange with him seems to be that of an underlying agreement, one that he isn’t part of. He notices that you seem less angry, though he fails to understand how or why. He’s worried again, terrified of the damage he’d unknowingly caused between you two.

“Okay,” you respond after a while. “Thank you.”

Javier doesn’t like that; the simple, cold way you send those thanks sends shivers down his spine, and he lowers his head into the ground again. He knows he’s truly fucked up and, in spite of your search for the truth and desire to keep things rational, you won’t ever forgive him.

What is rational, after all? Rational would’ve been if he had told you how he felt back in college. Rational would’ve been to tell you now, and drop the stupid rivalry act. Maybe it would’ve spared you of having to hide those shamefully pleasurable acts, and you could’ve actually enjoyed them properly, in a bed, intimate and cozy together.

There’s nothing but an ice cold distance between you two now, a broken road that’s suffered too much damage to be repaired.

The sudden callout of your name makes Javier’s head turn, but not yours.

“What are you doing here?” Claudia chimes in. “What’s going on?”

She remarks the gun you’re holding in one of your hands, the head still pointed in Javier’s direction, and fearfully approaches you both.

“Thank you for your honesty,” you continue, “and thank you—for making me an orphan.”

It hurts like a motherfucker, but Javier understands it. He knows you want it to hurt, to hurt badly like it did you, and not because you didn’t hear a word from what he said. But because you did. He knows that you’ve probably accepted the truth about your father, but that you also cannot forgive him for the crimes he committed.

Just as you probably won’t forgive Javier for giving out that order, even if you acknowledge the fact that it was justified and well-intended.

“What is going on here?” Claudia pushes, now in your vicinity.

“Nothing,” you say, strapping the gun to your belt again. “Just a conversation.”

“I take it you’re back at work?”

“No. I don’t know if I’ll return.”

No “yet” or “just”. Somehow, that sentence hurts Javier more than what you told him last. The idea that he drove you away from your job, your career, your passion and from him, subsequently, is more than he can live with. He didn’t even get the chance to be happy upon seeing you back in the office, unharmed by Escobar.

Looks like neither of you gets their shot at happiness.

“If you’re telling me you’re quitting—“Claudia begins, but you are quick to interrupt.

“I’m still on indefinite hiatus, ma’am.”

“That personal affair hit you hard, I take it. I’m sorry.”

You glance at Javier, regret exuding from your pupils and your whole body. “So am I.”

“Take all the time you need,” Claudia adds.

You walk away, fighting the tears that sting your eyes and the ache in your heart. You can’t wait to get home, allow yourself to feel everything that’s been weighing down so heavily on you.

“Peña. A word.”

Defeated, Javier does a never-before seen version of the walk of shame all the way to his boss, eyes lowered in shame into the ground.

“What the hell is going on?” Claudia asks.

“Nothing.”

“I got two of my finest agents on the sideline, one sulking in this very office and the other on an indefinite break, potentially leaving the DEA altogether, instead of going after Pablo Escobar. The goal they’ve been working towards for the past three years. One can only assume the two elements are related.”

“There’s not—“

“And before you decide on how to lie to me, I did not get to be in this position by not picking up on social cues.”

Javier inhales, pretending to weigh in on his options. For him, there is only one: do not reveal anything to the DEA’s chief. His private life is private for a reason. Although, in the past year, things had clearly gotten out of hand.

“Is there something else going on between you two?” she asks.

Javier doesn’t offer any verbal response; instead, he looks at Claudia with an incredibly guilty look in his eyes, one that suggests don’t you dare ask me anything else about this or I might lose it completely.

Claudia huffs, quite loudly, staring at the empty office they are in, taking in the image before looking back at the disheveled man in front of her.

“I do not need to know… everything,” she says, voice a little rigid. “But I can understand it there being something more going on.”

Javier remains silent still. He cannot bring himself to look into his boss’ eyes, not when she’s referencing the most private thing in his life.

“I do want to ask you a question, since we’re on this topic, Peña.”

The silence makes Javier hear his own heartbeat thrumming in his ears; the thump, thump, thump of a man on the verge of a breakdown.

“Whatever is going on… is it worth missing out on catching Pablo Escobar? Is she worth missing the biggest achievement in your career?”

“She is.”

Without missing another heartbeat.

“Or I thought she was. Hoped. I don’t know.”

Unable to resist the impulse to comfort, Claudia approaches Javier and gently pats him on the shoulder, smiling politely.

“Give her some time,” she advises.

“I don’t think time will heal in this case, boss.”

“Give it time. Trust me.”

While he’s definitely not a fan of discussing elements of his personal life—or lack thereof—with anyone, much less with his boss, the alternative, thinking of how the team is handling Escobar, isn’t such a treat either. At least in talking about you, he gets to think of you, to remember the times you’ve shared together, as sinful and forbidden they felt at the time.

God, he misses you. He misses having you nearby, the scent of your perfume, that soft, moldable skin of yours, your full lips, the fiery way you’d stare him down and the moans you let out as he slid inside you, always with ease, like you were—

Like you were made for him.

“How can you be sure time will help?” he asks.

“As I told you before, you don’t get to be in this position without being good with social cues of any kind. I know what attraction, what love looks like. I’ve seen it in her eyes.”

Javier’s eyes widen upon hearing the piece of information. “What?”

Claudia chuckles. “Peña, I am well aware of the fact that you have—quite a reputation around here, particularly among the few women at the embassy. But I’ve never seen you miss being in the middle of the action, let alone for a woman. I know what caring for someone looks like, and this is it. That kind of love doesn’t just go away. So… give it some time.”

The moment vanishes as swiftly as it had begun. Javier feels like he’d been talking to an old friend rather than an official representative of America. Which somehow makes the moment slightly more awkward as the realization dawns on him.

“Thank you,” he quickly says before rushing out the office.

He can’t stay there. He cannot keep waiting around. He needs distraction. And alcohol won’t do it this time.

He makes the call from the car. Anxiety cruises through his veins as he tells Gabriella to meet him at his place. Deep down, in the huge pit of his stomach, he feels retched for even thinking about it, and even more so for going through with it. But he can’t have you. He will probably never have you again, so why pretend otherwise? And there is nothing wrong about seeking solace in the arms of someone. Especially since you two were never an item, and by the looks of it, never will be.

He’s no good at being a boyfriend, or more. He’s good at fucking, and that’s what he will do tonight. Needy, rough and depraved. Just the way he likes it.

Just the way she likes it.

Stop. Don’t think about anything else but Gabriella. You need this.

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plentyoffandoms · 1 year

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The Sweetest Gift (Part 2)

Main Masterlist ♡ Actors Masterlist ♡ Pedro Pascal Masterlist

Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.

Warnings: Some swearing.

Gifs & photos do not belong to me. 1st gif @bring-me-in-warm 2nd gif @pascalsky 3rd gif @pajamasecrets 4th gif @300mirrors

WC: 2025

Summary: Pedro runs into an old girlfriend, who has kept a secret from him.

Part 1 can be found here

PEDRO PASCAL'S POV

I had my phone out, ready to call my sister, but she beat me to it.

I barely was able to get out "hello" before she started to go at me about the photos that have shown up online.

"Lux, calm down."

"Do not tell me too calm down. Who is he, and why does he look so much like you?"

"Remember YN?"

"Of course. The love of your life. The one who you let go. Why?:

"I didn't know this, but she was pregnant."

Silence, which is never good with Lux.

"Lux?"

"She had your son."

"And daughter." There was choking on her side of the phone.

"Oh my goodness. We have to meet them. We have to tell everyone."

"It will be me telling them. Not you, Lux."

"Tell me everything. How long have you known? Have you known this whole time, and you didn't bother to tell us?"

I was about to tell her when I realised that maybe I should save the story and tell everyone at once.

It will save me from repeating myself constantly.

I told Lux that idea, and I knew she wasn't happy with my decision, but she understood. Now, I just have to find time to tell them.

Lux, after we hung up, called everyone and made arrangements for us all to meet at our sister's place.

When I told Lux I didn't have time, she told me to make time as this is a family meeting.

So, days later, I found myself sitting in Javiera's living room, surrounded by the most important people in my life.

"Lux says you have something to tell us."

"Is that so Nicolás?" I was trying to play it cool. I'm trying to get them worked up because, well, I know once I tell everyone, they are going to be shocked.

"Do you guys remember YN?"

My siblings looked at one another and said, "Yes, Lux already knows where this is going, but the only two do not.

"She found out a bit after we broke up that she was pregnant, and well, I am a Dad."

The whole room was quiet, and then it was like a bomb went off. Every single person started to throw question after question at me.

"Okay, okay, everyone, quiet down, and I will answer your questions."

Once everyone settled down, I told them story how I found out, and I began to tell them about their niece and nephew.

"Their names are Jose Lucas, but he goes by Lucas, and her name is Verónica Emilia, and she goes by Emilia. Lucas is older by 8 minutes. Born in New York City, but grew up in a small town in Nevada. Their birthday is March 17th, 2000. He is a lawyer, and she is a wedding coordinator."

"And they are here?"

"Yeah, he works for Cravath, Swaine & Moore."

Nicolás let out a whistle at that, then saying that is one of the most prestigious law firms in all of New York.

"Anything else you want to tell us?" Javiera asked, knowing from the look on my face that I have more news to tell.

"Emilia is pregnant. I am going to be a grandfather."

YN'S POV

My children told me they had lunch with their Dad after Lucas ran into him on the street.

I am happy they are getting to know him. I mean, truly know him. Not just from the interviews and articles they read about him.

Emilia has seen him a bit more than Lucas, but I know once he has time, him and Pedro will make time to meet up.

My days usually involve me keeping busy doing the odd errands here and there, but lately, I have been staying home. Enjoying the quiet until my grand baby arrives.

I was watching one of the many new TV series that I have been meaning to watch but never got a chance to, when I heard a knock on my door.

I stood up, confused about who the hell could be knocking on my door. Brandon usually walks in, and he also has a key. I looked through the peephole, and I saw a woman standing there, looking around.

I opened the door just a bit and said, "Yes?" The woman looked at me and smiled.

"Are you YN LN?"

"Yes." Still confused as this woman looks very familiar, but I just can't place from where I know her.

"It has been a long time since we have seen one another. I would have been about 8 or so since the last time we saw one another."

It dawned on me, and I opened the door a bit more. "I am sorry, I don't want to call you the wrong name, but,"

"Yes, YN, it is me. My name is Lux now."

Lux. It suits her.

"Please come in. My goodness, Lux. May I give you a hug?"

The question was barely out of my mouth, and I was hugging her. I never thought I would ever get to see any of his family again.

"You started without me?" A new voice startled us. I almost jumped out of skin when I saw Javiera standing there.

"Javiera, you took too long, and I couldn't wait anymore." Lux said as she took a step back to allow Javiera and I to hug.

"Please come in. Can I get you two anything?" I stepped aside and let them come into my house.

The three of us spent hours talking. Catching up on the time that we have missed.

I listened as they talked about their lives and the rest of their family, and I have so dearly missed them. They, like myself, thought that Pedro and I would get married.

The sound of the front door and a male voice calling out my name had the two of them quiet down. "In the dining room, Brandon." I called out, and not even second later, there in the doorway, was my future son-in-law. "I hope I am not interrupting anything?" He asked as he smiled politely at Javiera and Lux.

"No, not at all. I would like you to meet Lux and Javiera." They all said hi to one another.

"Lucas will be here soon for dinner."

I looked at the time, and I noticed the day had gotten away on me. "I will order some pizza. I got a bit preoccupied." I smiled at the two women. "Come and have a seat. I will order from our favourite place and it will be here by the time Emilia and Lucas get home."

Emilia and Lucas showed up at the same time. He carried in her shopping bags for her and already placed them in the baby's nursery before coming into the dining room.

"Why is everyone so quiet in here?" He asked, and then he noticed the two new faces.

"Lucas, Emilia, I would like for you to meet your aunts, Javiera and Lux."

I watched as Emilia sat down, stunned at finally meeting two out of three siblings of their Dads.

"Nice to meet you two as well." Lucas said, the one who comes around to things more quickly out of the two.

Brandon was looking at the four of them, his mouth slightly gapped in awe. "Close your mouth, sweetie." I said to him.

The six of us finished dinner, and I was cleaning up, wanting them to have time with their aunts.

"So when is the wedding?" Lux asked Brandon and Lucas. "In about 4 and half months now." Lux clapped her hands in excitement. I can already tell by the way Brandon and Lucas are looking at one another that they are going to invite all of Pedro's family.

"And you, Emilia. Your mother told us that you are having a baby shower."

"It is in two weeks. I just found out my Mom made a baby registry so we don't get too many duplicates of stuff."

"If you two are available, I am sure we would love to have you." I called out. Wanting my children to spend as much as they can with their family.

"I will have to look at my schedule, but I am sure I can make it." Javiera said, and Lux said the same thing. I gave them the information.

PEDRO PASCAL'S POV

I was out grabbing some coffee when the paparazzi came swarming. They started to fire off the normal questions. Am I seeing anyone. What are my upcoming plans, but then one had me pause mid-step.

"Pedro, there have been reports that you have been seen with a young male who looks an awful lot like you and a female." I didn't answer as we have not discussed what I should say.

"Do you have children, Pedro? Have you been lying to us this whole time?"

I ignored them as I got to my car and drove off. I did something stupid and drove to the address that Lux gave me after she informed me that Javiera and her went to YN's house to meet my children.

I already messaged YN that I was on my way to talk. That we need to talk with Lucas and Emilia.

With traffic, it took me a bit too long to get to her place. I knocked on the door, and Lucas answered.

"Dad," He pointed behind me, and I saw the cars stopping and the paparazzi getting out.

"Fuck." Was all I said before I walked into the house, closing and locking the door behind me.

"Close the blinds. Make sure the windows are all shut and locked and any doors as well. Some of them do not understand personal space and will do anything to get a photo of you."

Lucas, Brandon, and YN went around, making sure to do as I asked.

"We need to talk. They are starting to ask questions, and I stupidly brought them right to you."

"You can tell them about us." Emilia said.

"Are you sure? They will hound you until they get what they want."

"Pedro," I looked at YN, and she was calm, and she grabbed my hand and held it in hers.

"We knew this day may come if they ever met you."

"I just want to keep them safe, and that is including Brandon." I told her.

"I know, but they have made up their minds."

"And what about you, YN? They are going to come after you as well."

"Well, they can. I just won't answer them. What happened between us? Well, it happened. No one besides us needs to know what happened between us."

The five of us stayed at YN's place. I found myself not being able to sleep as I was worried about my family, so I started to look around the house.

I saw the photos of Emilia and Lucas all over the place, with YN thrown into the mix and a few newer ones with Brandon.

I heard footsteps, and I saw YN and the bottom of the stairs.

"Couldn't sleep?" I shook my head no.

The two of us sat on the couch that I had taken over for my bed.

"You did good with them." I said to her.

"They had their moments, but they were good kids."

"I am sorry, YN," I went to say more, but YN held up her hand.

"What happened happened, and we are here now together."

"But,"

"No buts, Pedro. We are here now, and we have two beautiful children and a granddaughter on the way. We have to look towards that and not what happened between us."

She was right. YN was usually right about these things. But I still love her, and that hasn't changed at all over decades.

YN went to bed, and I finally fell asleep, waking up only a few hours later to the sounds of YN cooking some breakfast.

And just for one brief moment, I imagined that this was my life as I ate with YN, my children, and my future son-in-law around the table with me.

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