#is this what streets of Laredo is about or
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ೃ࿔ “INVISIBLE STRING THEORY” MASTERLIST
the marines didn’t ruin ellie. ellie ruined ellie. after being medically discharged she feels lost. being sent to live with joel is more of a last ditch effort to save her and less of a fun reunion for the father-daughter duo. jackson is worlds different than chicago, but the fresh air and sprawling countrysides are a welcome reprieve. ellie finds herself finding comfort in more than just the change in scenery though. after losing your girlfriend due to an accident you feel as though you’ll never find love again- but that was before meeting ellie williams. the two of you figure out that you have more in common than just the fact that she and your girlfriend were both marines though. tethered by some invisible string, the two of you meeting has to be fate. who would have known that you were the golden ticket to ellie’s recovery?
total word count: 13.8k
𖦹 chapter one- grief is a difficult thing for anyone to navigate, but ellie finds it impossible to tread through her bottomless depression. all roads seem to lead to nowhere and everyday is a struggle. after a run in with the law after a ptsd episode, her close friends decide that it's do or die. a quick phone call to joel is all it takes to turn her world upside down. moving back to wyoming is a last ditch effort to save the scarred marine. the woman has no idea what's waiting for her back home. . . or who.
𖦹 chapter two- it's easy to pretend that things are normal when she's with joel. she can put on a brave face. grin and bear it, as they say. your sudden appearance in ellie's life hits her like a battering ram, and she finds it impossible not to be drawn to you. joel lets her know that you are no stranger to loss. the two of you seem to have a lot in common. a lost engagement ring, a smitten ellie and a minor mental breakdown.
𖦹 chapter three- you're tired of waking up in bed cold and alone. abby would have wanted you to find joy again. . . so why can't you? ellie shows up bright and early to help you with your duties on the farm, which is when you realize just how irresistible she is. for the first time in a while you feel comfortable to be yourself around someone, and she feels the exact same way. she shares some hard truths about herself and discovers what was once lost to you.
𖦹 chapter four- to be continued . . .
ೃ࿔ fic "soundtrack"
i fall to pieces - patsy cline
i walk the line - johnny cash
big black car - gregory ivan isakov
blue eyes crying in the rain - willie nelson
streets of laredo - marty robbins
plastic jesus - tia blake
almost gone - my terrible friend
death don’t have no mercy - rev. gary davis
i’m so lonesome i could cry - hank williams
god’s gonna cut you down - johnny cash
#invisible string theory fic#invisible string theory#masterlist#ellie williams fic#ellie williams#ellie williams x female reader#ellie williams x reader#the last of us#ellie williams x you#ellie williams fanfic#ellie williams the last of us#ellie williams smut#the last of us 2#tlou#tlou part two#tlou part 2#modern!ellie williams#marine!ellie williams#lesbian#sapphic#wlw
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Terror
Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost
A/N: By popular demand! This turned awful in my brain very quickly. I know instantly that this won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, so please read the tags before jumping into this. Not everything is fun and games for hubby.
Summary: Javier doesn’t think that he has nightmares about Colombia anymore until he suddenly does. The difference is that he also has you and the family that you have given him.
Pairing: Javier Peña x reader (no y/n)
Tags: +18, graphic description of gun violence, some gore, PTSD night terrors, major character death (but not really), panic attacks, domestic, cuddles, hurt/comfort, family time, love confessions, pregnant reader dies in this dream
Word count: 2.6k
Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54592621
Terror
Javier searches and searches to no avail. He walks with frantic determination between burning cars and bullet shells, occasionally hitting the latter with the tips of his shoes so they go cascading down the asphalt with a clinking sound. He doesn’t trip on them though, as his steps are sure, moving around the chaotic scene of the aftermath of an ambush by grabbing at whatever he can to push himself forward.
He knows where he is but he doesn’t remember getting here, and he has no clue if he was involved in the shooting that has evidently occurred here. However, when he looks down at himself, he finds no bullet wounds and no tactical gear either. So why does he think that you are here? He yelps as he accidentally grabs the hood of a car that seems to have been burning for a while, the metal so hot that it scorches his skin. The heat radiating from the vehicle makes his body prickle with sweat, his shirt clinging uncomfortably to his skin that is riddled with damp sweat from anxiety. He clutches his burnt hand and continues down the never-ending street.
Where are you? Where are they? He searches through several empty cars, nearly ripping the doors off of their hinges to get to you quicker. Perhaps you know where they are but he doesn’t even know where you are.
When he gets to what feels like the hundredth car, finally reaching the end of the road that somehow resembles a labyrinth despite only moving forward, panic has started to rise in his throat. He calls for you but you don’t answer, and then he calls for Lucas in case he has managed to hide himself and his sibling somewhere.
“Lucas! It’s alright, it’s just me!” He yells out but it’s just the echo of his own voice that answers him, “You can come out now, it’s over, te prome— (I promi—).”
Javier has turned the corner. It is the sight of Horatio Carrillo’s face that makes him realize that this isn’t real. Carrillo is dead, and he has been for nearly twenty years. Javier will never forgive himself for not having been there. He should have been there with everyone. It should have been him; he had had nothing waiting for him back in Laredo.
In front of him, a row of children and teenagers are kneeling but he doesn’t recognize any of their faces. He has seen this scene before. He remembers doing nothing back then, and the thought is enough to make his gut twist with guilt and nausea even if nothing could have been done to change Carrillo’s attitude towards the kids. He hears a gunshot and a young child falls to the ground, head split open from the way the bullet has torn through soft, young flesh. He flinches in a way that he didn’t back then, in a way that only a man who is a father can.
Carrillo’s blank and indifferent stare terrifies him to the point where he wishes that he could wake up. It is clear that this is a nightmare, so why hasn’t he woken up yet? Aren’t you supposed to wake up when you have figured it all out? He tries pinching his arm but nothing happens, and the claustrophobia of being stuck in his own head makes his chest constrict and his heart, too big for his rib cage by now, hammer with the speed of a hummingbird’s wings.
The stare he is watching is not one of being rid of emotion but rather the look that washes over a face when the person it belongs to is dead. His old colleague is standing in front of him in a zombie-like state and Javier cannot shake the feeling that Carrillo looks less like a person and more like a thing.
“Carrillo,” he says sternly. On the ground, the blood oozes towards his feet and he shifts to avoid it soaking through his shoes.
His colleague turns to him but doesn’t say anything. He still has the weapon in his hand, arm stretched out, and pointing the gun at the row of innocent children. Javier speaks quietly despite his anxiety, “C’mon, they’re just kids. Look at them; they’re just ki—“
He turns to look at the kneeling figures but the faces aren’t unknown to him anymore. His blood runs cold at the sight of his eldest son who has his arms stretched out to hold Inés close to his body, effectively shielding her from any shot that may be coming at her at any moment.
“Lucas,” he croaks, “¿Dónde está tu madre (Where is your mother)?”
“I don’t know, Dad,” his son replies, “I’m scared.”
“I know, don’t worry, I— I’m gonna take care of it,” he replies with a dizzying heartbeat followed by the urge to throw up.
It’s then that you appear too. His heart skips a beat as you materialize right behind your kids, pregnant with his child and vulnerable as tears stream down your cheeks. Your arms are in front of you, wrapped around your children as you try to protect them while whimpering in a way that makes Javier more than desperate. He tries to sound more assertive than anxious but listening to his own voice, he doesn’t feel very successful. He turns back to Carrillo who hasn’t moved the firearm even an inch, “For fuck’s sake, get that gun away from my family!”
“Están trabajando para Escobar, Peña. Si quieres justicia, entonces esta es la única manera (They are working for Escobar, Peña. If you want justice, this is the only way),” is the only reply he gets. Carrillo spits at the ground.
Javier takes a step forward but suddenly, a shot is fired at his feet and he is forced to jump back with his hands in the air. His eyes are pleading, his voice wavering, “Jesus Christ, Carrillo, they’re not working for him. Put the damn gun down! They’re mine. They are my kids. You’re pointing a gun at my wife!”
Lucas shifts on his spot on the ground. His knees can barely hold himself up anymore, gravel gnawing at his kneecaps but Javier holds out a hand to stop him, “Don’t move, mijo (my son). I know you’re scared but—“
But Lucas’ eyes are wet with terrified tears. He panics, throws himself to the side to crawl away and the ghost of Javier’s previous colleague seems to come to the conclusion that it is too risky to attempt a shot in the boy’s direction in case he misses, so instead—
Javier flinches at the loud sound of the gun going off. You lie on the ground in the next moment. He lets out a cry of anguish, crawling across the gravel road to get to you until his hands are scraped and his knees are dirty. The love of his life and his unborn child.
“No,” he yells as tears spring from his eyes. He clutches at you whilst you breathe rapidly and try to hold onto him as well but your grip is slowly loosening on him with every beat of your heart. He can see the way your pulse slows in how your clothes soak slower and slower, knows where it is going. You try to say something but he cannot understand it, your voice having been replaced by gurgles of blood, “No don’t try to talk, baby. Shit, I— look, it’s not even that bad. Shh, it’s okay, baby. It’s not even that bad, it’s fine, you’re gonna be fine, mi vida (my life). You and the baby. I promise.”
The same blank stare as the one that Carrillo sports washes over your face. He says your name over and over, “Mi amor (my love), no, no, look at me. No, no, no no no.”
Inés has started screaming in panic. She’s crying for you in the most heart-wrenching manner, terrified when you don’t react to her words like you always do. Her pitch climbs with each passing second but Javier has no strength to soothe his daughter because he yells your name until it feels like he cannot breathe.
Lucas yells for his mother in the background. The agony of hearing his children cry mixed with hearing you say nothing is too much for him. He panics, shakes you violently—
He jolts awake in the next moment to the sound of your voice. Fear still has him in its grip and leaves him disoriented, ready to fight whatever comes his way. He hyperventilates until he feels lightheaded and tries to figure out where he is, beads of cold sweat having collected on his forehead during his restless sleep.
“Javi,” you say with a hand on his shoulder and he whips his head around to face you. A moment ago, your eyes had been glazed over by death.
Immediately, he grabs your wrist in an iron grip. You place your other hand on top of his, speaking softly, “Javier. Let go.”
“Are you alright?” He chokes out and grips you harder, eyes wild in the dimly lit bedroom. He wants to run a million miles, “Are you alright?”
“I am okay, baby. We’re both safe,” you reassure him with a hand on your pregnant belly. Tears start to roll down his cheeks. He is unable to shake the image of you lying dead on the ground, “Shh…”
“Are you sure?” He whimpers, eyes flickering from your face to your stomach and back to your face again.
“Yes. It was just a bad dream. It was just a nightmare,” your voice is still ever so gentle and nowhere near the way it had been in his state of terror. He releases the clutch on your arm and you carefully run a hand over his forehead, “Breathe. Hold my hand. Tell me you love me.”
You offer your free hand to him and he carefully takes it, trying to convince himself that you won’t slip away from him in the dark bedroom. You squeeze his hand slightly. It’s a silly thing you came up with years ago.
“I love you,” he says quietly, already feeling a little better but when you say it back ever so gently, he finds himself bursting into tears. He cries and it is the kind that comes from the very bottom of one’s lungs; frantic and breathy sobs that sound almost painful.
He thought that the nightmares had stopped. They had been bad when he first met you, and he connected it to his decreasing alcohol consumption because back in Colombia, he was sometimes too boozed up to even dream. However, meeting you - marrying you - had been a glimpse into a future where he could get better because you were together. So why does his brain still do this once in a while?
“Pensé que te había perdido para siempre (I thought I had lost you forever),” he sobs when you engulf him in your arms. He rests his head against your soft chest, grabbing onto whatever he can of you to make sure you are real. It’s only times like these when his strong, broad hands feel unsure on your skin.
“Oh, baby. I’m right here,” you rock him carefully in a way that a mother does, “I’m not going anywhere, te prometo (I promise you).”
“No puedo vivir sin ti (I can’t live without you),” he continues. You reassure him that he won’t have to, that by then, someone will have discovered eternal life or made all of you into kind-hearted robots. Despite the chuckle he lets out, you also let him cry for as long as he needs to.
It takes you a while to calm him down again, resting your chin on top of his head as he lets himself fall into you instead of going out of his mind. He mumbles, “Where are the kids? Where’s Inés?”
“They’re in bed,” you promise him, arms cradling him and rubbing his back until his breathing starts to slow again, “They’re okay. They’re just asleep.”
Except they are not asleep. Your hand stops moving on his back, and he looks up at you to find your eyes on the door.
“Inés. Lucas. Stop standing at the door,” you say gently.
“Sorry,” they say in unison.
Relief floods Javier’s system at the sound of his children’s voices. His chest expands as he breathes in deeply for what feels like the first time since he woke up. He watches their little faces, hears the click of the lamp on your nightstand as you turn on the light.
“Is Daddy okay?” Inés asks carefully. Her eyes tell Javier that he has noticed the tears on her father’s face.
“We heard you yelling,” Lucas elaborates to his father, “Inés didn’t want to go in here alone. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize, sweetie,” your voice is sweet and calm. It is in these moments that he loves you the most; when you prove to be the anchor in any storm, knows that the only times he might actually get a good night's rest is when you are right here beside him.
“Come here, mis amores (my loves),” he scoots a little away from you to open his arms. His children look uncertain for a moment but then Inés rushes forward to climb into bed and into his embrace. Lucas follows a moment after, the both of them earning a kiss on top of their heads.
Inés’ eyes are wide as she stares up at him, “Papá, you scared me.”
“I had a bad dream,” he explains to both of them and attempts to smile, pulling them closer to his chest. They make faces as they are squished but he doesn’t let go, “but I’m okay now. I’m sorry for waking you.”
“Then why are you crying?” Lucas gets out of the embrace to study his face, shocked to see the tears running down until they drip down from his chin.
“Daddy! You are crying!” Inés parrots her older brother as she notices too. She kneels in front of her father and tilts her head.
“I am?” He asks, pretending not to know. Inés’ tiny hand reaches to wipe a few tears away without much success and his heart clenches in his chest with how lucky he feels to have such a beautiful family.
“It’s okay to cry,” Lucas explains softly, “That’s what Mom says.”
“Alright, let’s give your father some space,” you lock eyes with your husband, cup his cheek for a moment before brushing away the last traces of tears from his face with the back of your hand. He smiles at you and it is completely genuine for the first time.
“I don’t want to sleep,” Inés protests loudly.
“What if you both sleep in here for the rest of the night?” You bargain whilst still smiling at Javier, however a little more goofily now, “Just for tonight.”
Lucas is already crawling under the covers to cuddle up next to you, and Inés lays down next to her father. It takes a moment of quiet chatter and soothing caresses to make them both fall asleep again, their bodies exhausted from being awake in the middle of the early hours of the morning.
Javier can’t fall back asleep but from the way you breathe, he can tell that sleep hasn’t found you either.
Outside, the first light of dawn has begun to filter through the curtains. There’s a warmer glow in the room now, and he peeks at you from where he lies, looking like someone catching a glimpse of their crush.
"I love you," he whispers, his voice barely audible.
You turn your head to face him and smile tenderly, the morning glow illuminating you from behind. You are so beautiful, he thinks, beautiful and pregnant, and he is so lucky.
Your voice is filled with genuine happiness, warm and loving. You look down at your sleeping children, place a hand on your bump, and then look back up at him, "We love you too.”
.
.
.
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Chapter 12- I Love You. I Know.
Summary: As the end of October approaches, you and Javi learn more about celebrating Halloween and Dia De Los Muertos together. After a sleepless night, and a Halloween party at the Murphy's, Javi begins to open up to you about his past.
Word Count: 15.6K (I'm sweating)
Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (don't be silly, wrap your willy), oral (m receiving), vaginal fingering, creampie, praise kink, semi-public sex (Oh the poor Murphy's...), PTSD/Anxiety around grief, loss and Javi's past, some angst/tension, mentions of drinking/being drunk (Steve is getting PLASTERED), mentions of food/eating, SO MANY STAR WARS REFERENCES, literally this chapter made me sob while I was writing it, editing it, and re-reading it, I am SO sorry
A/N: You guys. Holy shit. This chapter really had me in my feels. This chapter was def a labor of love, but I'm really happy with how it turned out!! Thank you for as always for all you kind words, you truly, truly, TRULY have no idea how much your support means to me 😭💖 Also please don't kill me after you finish reading this chapter I PROMISE *things* are happening so soon I can literally taste it, but I needed for this chapter to happen first, and you would be silly to think that *things* didn't get its own whole ass chapter and I am just as excited as you AH
Series Masterlist Next Chapter Previous Chapter
The excitement of October’s conclusion was in the air, and the joys of getting to celebrate what you hoped would be the first of many holidays with Javi was at the forefront of your mind. While the end of summer meant school was here and your carefree days were gone until next June, October meant it was time for one of your favorite holidays- Halloween. It was one of your most cherished things to celebrate as a kid, and even still as an adult. The memories of jumping into leaf piles off your swingset with your brothers, dressing up in goofy, homemade costumes to trick-or-treat (because your mom was not about to buy 4 new sets of costumes every single year), carving pumpkins, and stealing as many of your brother’s Kit Kat bars as you could without getting caught, filled your heart with a warmth and joy that you couldn’t quite describe. While the 80 degree temperatures and lack of bright reds and yellows painted across the leaves falling from their trees was much different from the Chicago Octobers you were accustomed to, it hadn’t stopped you from heading full steam into Halloween.
“So do you have any thoughts on what we should be for Steve and Connie’s? I have no problem going out to buy stuff for costumes, but I can already hear my mom yelling at me for wasting my money on cheaply made clothes I’m gonna wear for 5 hours when I have something perfectly good in my closet.” You rolled your eyes as you shuffled through the hangers, Javi sitting on the edge of your bed folding the laundry you were working on putting away.
The two of you had gladly accepted the invitation from Steve and Connie to spend the weekend with them in San Antonio, as the Murphy’s planned to host a Halloween party at their house for their friends and co-workers, giving you and Javi a chance to have a fun weekend out of town together.
“Hmmmm?” He asked, looking up at you as you grabbed a few shirts, examining them for costume potential. “We’re dressing up for this thing?”
“Yeah, that’s like, the whole point of Halloween, dummy.” You giggled, throwing a few options on the floor before making your way over to your pants. “Didn’t you dress up as a kid for Halloween?”
Unlike yourself, Javi had spent his whole life celebrating Día de los Muertos, Halloween having nowhere near as much relevance to him as it did to you, spending the end of October and first days of November gathering with his family to spend the day making Pan de Muerto (Day of the Dead sweet bread), watching the parades on the streets of Downtown Laredo before visiting the cemetery where his grandparents were buried, decorating their graves in cempasúchil (marigold flowers), candles and photographs with his primos (cousins). Since his mom had passed, Javi hadn’t been home to celebrate with his family, and had almost forgone the tradition completely during his time in Colombia, the pain and loss of his mother and the solemn sadness of celebrating alone leading him to try his best to forget about the holiday all together.
“Uh, no, not, not really. Didn’t really do Halloween, isn’t really as much of a thing down here. My family always celebrated Día de Los Muertos instead.” He replied, almost embarrassed by his answer, not wanting to damper your excitement as you dug through your closet for costumes.
Your heart sank to your stomach, feeling awful that you hadn’t even taken into consideration that Javi's traditions around this time of year were completely different from what you were used to. The two of you had never really talked about how you wanted to celebrate future holidays, and always had wanted to make sure that the important parts of your lives were celebrated equally. Javi hadn’t said anything after you had spent the past few days putting up Halloween decorations around your apartment, and now you felt like an idiot assuming he had spent his whole life celebrating just like you.
“Oh… Shit. Javi, I’m so sorry, if you don’t wanna do costumes, we don’t have to, you just hadn’t said anything about Día de Los Muertos so I just assumed that-”
“Baby, it’s okay.” He pushed himself up off the bed, the width of his broad palms wrapping around your hips, trying to ease the guilt he could tell was rapidly consuming you. “You’re right, I never told you about it. It’s been a long time since I’ve done anything to celebrate it, and I haven’t been home for it since I’ve gotten back from Colombia. I just- I don’t really know how to feel about it, I guess. The last time I did anything for it was before my mom died. I was never able to bring myself to do anything about it while I was gone, and I guess now I just feel really shitty that was the way I decided to handle it.” It broke your heart to see the pain in his eyes, pulling yourself closer to him as you wrapped your arms around his stomach, leaning your head against his chest. It was then, the realization had hit you too- This would be your first year of holidays without Patrick. You didn’t know as much as you would have liked to about Día de Los Muertos, but you did know that it was to celebrate the lives of loved ones you’d lost, a feeling that you and Javi were both all too familiar with.
“Listen…” You raised your head, looking up at him, arms still intertwined around his waist. “I don’t- I don’t wanna make you do anything that you’re uncomfortable with. I guess this is the first time we’ve ever really talked about this kind of stuff. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you, Jav, and that means celebrating the things that are special to both of us. The things that are important to you are important to me too. I want our lives for us, for our future family, to be filled with all the things we care the most about, whether that means keeping old traditions or making our own new ones. It would mean a lot to me to get to celebrate Día de los Muertos with you, and if it’s okay, I would love to sprinkle in some Halloween too, because I’m fucking dying to carve a pumpkin.”
You smiled up at him as his hand slid under your jaw, his thumb tracing across your cheek as he tried his best to hold back the tears welling in his eyes. It took everything in him to not ruin his plans, wanting to run into the bedroom, grab the ring out of his sock drawer and propose to you that very instant. Even after all this time, Javi still couldn't believe that he was the person you wanted to share the rest of your life with. That you wanted to intertwine your past, present, and future with his, to have a life, a family, together that the two of you could cherish forever. Never in a million years had he assumed he’d be anywhere close to where he was today, holding the world’s most beautiful, perfect woman in his arms, as she told him how she wanted nothing more than to build a family and spend the rest of her days with him.
“Osita… I fucking love you so much, you know that?” He leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a soft and deep kiss, your heart racing as he pulled you in tighter.
“Yeah, I mean, I guess, just a little bit…” You giggled, poking fun at him, considering not a day had passed since the first night he had said it that Javi hadn’t told you just how much he loved you.
“Shut up, you dork.” He chuckled, making you squeal as he picked you up, playfully shaking you in his grasp before setting you back down. “I’d love nothing more, Hermosa. I don’t know how the fuck you’re supposed to carve a pumpkin or what the hell you have planned for these costumes, but I’m all in. I want it all with you, Osita. Thank you.”
“Of course. For as much or as little as you want to do for Día de los Muertos, I’m all in too. I’m gonna be honest, I love Hallowen. Not as much as Christmas, but it’s a close second. It means you’re gonna have to trust me with a giant ass knife and cover yourself in pumpkin guts, though.”
“My trust is quickly starting to fade. Seriously though, what the hell are we supposed to dress up as?” He raised an eyebrow at you, nodding over to the pile of clothes you had pulled from your closet, now piled on the floor.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got some ideas.”
The weeks leading up to the holidays had made for fun at home date nights, the both of you genuinely looking forward to learning about the traditions you had both held so dear to your hearts. Almost every night after work, you had done something to celebrate the events leading up to the day. You had shown Javi a few of your favorite Halloween movies, including It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown, Beetlejuice, and Ghostbusters, very adamantly insisting to him that those movies were about as scary as you were going to get, blaming your brothers for scarring you after forcing you to watch The Exorcist at the ripe age of 7 years old. In addition to the movies, you had told him about other funny Trick-Or-Treating stories from your childhood, Javi’s favorite being how your brothers, (being the ruthless idiots they were) paid one of their friends in all of their halloween candy to jump out of a bush dressed as a terrifying old lady to scare the absolute shit out of you, and making you quite literally pee your pants. In return Javi shared his favorite memories of cooking in the kitchen with his mom as she made Pan de Muertos for his family, the two of you even attempting to make it one of the nights after work, milling about the kitchen together as Javi told you about his family you had yet to meet, or had passed away long before you.
After a lengthy hunt, you were able to find pumpkins, bringing them to Chucho’s house to carve them since you had nowhere to put them inside your apartment. You offered him the rest of your Pan de Muertos in exchange for a place to work on your pumpkins, and while he gladly accepted the bread, the three of you knew Chucho was always happy to have you and Javi over, regardless.
“So tell me, mija,” Chucho spoke in between mouthfuls of sweet bread, rocking back and forth in his chair, “is there a meaning behind carving the pumpkins, or is it just for fun?”
“Just for fun! Okay, it looks like we’re ready, you want me to show you how to do it, or just let you go for it?” You smiled at Javi, the two of you sitting cross legged on Chucho’s porch, pumpkins open in front of you.
“You just scoop them out, right?” Javi questioned, looking into the pumpkin with an unsure grimace. “It seems like there's a lot in here, Osita. I have to get all of it out?”
“Yeah, or else you can’t see the design when you carve it. C’mon you big baby, just stick your hand in there and pull the guts out!” You laughed, digging your hand into your pumpkin, scooping out hearty globs of pumpkin guts, slopping them into the bucket Chucho had set out for you. Reluctantly, Javi joined, you and Chucho both absolutely dying at Javi’s face as his hand met the squishy fibers inside his pumpkin.
“Jesus, that feels fucking gross!” He laughed, shaking his head as he threw some of the seeds and strings into the trash next to him.
“You need me to do it for you?” You giggled, flicking a pumpkin seed at him as he winced with the second handful he pulled out.
“No, cabrón (asshole), I can do it.” Javi grumbled as he rolled his eyes at you, the both of you scooping hearty handfuls of goop.
“You hear that, Chucho? Calling me an asshole because he’s too scared to pull out pumpkin guts.” You looked back at his dad, giving him a playful grin, his smile already wide from the enjoyment of watching the two of you. With your back turned to Javi, you hadn’t noticed the small handful of seeds he had collected in his hand, lining up his arm to aim right at the back of your head. “I can’t believe that- HEY!” You whipped your neck around, running your hand over the back of your neck, picking seeds and strings out of your hair, seeing Javi snicker to himself as your jaw dropped open in shock. “Did you seriously just throw pumpkin guts at me?!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, must have been a ghost.” He shrugged, smirking to himself before digging his hand back into his pumpkin.
“You see this?!” You looked back at Chucho, pointing your finger at Javi, pretending to be stern, although your laughter quickly escaped. “Absolutely ridiculous, I swear.”
“Javier, that is no way to treat your future esposa! (Wife) No quiero mis nietos ser cubierto en calabaza! Me encantáran en cualquier caso, pero todavía! (I don’t want my future grandchildren covered in pumpkin! I will love them either way, but still!)” Chucho scolded with a smirk, you and Javi silently smiling to each other at the thought of one day doing this with your own children. Javi had tried to stop fighting off his dad’s comments about grandkids a while ago- Chucho knew just as well as the two of you that he would have his grandchildren soon enough.
“Ella lo pído… (She asked for it…)” Javi muttered under his breath, shooting his gaze up at you as he felt cold goop hit the side of his cheek, wiping the pumpkin you had just thrown at him off with the back of his hand, watching you smirk silently to yourself as you continued to scoop out your pumpkin.
“Ahora… Estamos a mano. (And now… We’re even.)”
The 3 of you chatted on the porch, the sky now painted a dark black, filled with twinkling constellations above as you finished carving your pumpkins. Yours, a cute ghost with a little smiley face, and Javi’s, what he had tried to convince you and Chucho was also a ghost, even though it looked more like he had just carved a squiggly hole in the middle of his. It took a little prodding and convincing, but as you all talked about how the Peña family had spent many a Día de los Muertos, you and Chucho were able to get Javi to agree to go visit his mom’s gravesite on the Sunday after you got back from Steve and Connie’s party. Chucho had even promised to keep his tias, tios, and primos (aunts, uncles, and cousins) completely out of the picture this year, wanting to give Javi all the time and space he needed to go see his mom for the first time since her funeral. He was reluctant at first, riddled with the guilt of leaving her unvisited all these years, but as he felt the gentle squeeze of your hand, your silent reassurance was all he needed to know that you would be by his side, every step of the way. As you said your goodbyes, Chucho hugged you just a little extra tighter than normal, as if to thank you for everything you had done for his son, and just how thankful he was to have you in his life, too.
Even though the Murphy’s had very graciously offered to let you and Javi stay on Friday night as well as Saturday, both Steve and Connie very much understood when you had told them on the phone that the only thing that you wanted to do after coming home from the chaos of managing an elementary school Halloween party was take a very, very long nap. You and Javi had spent the night ordering pizza and watching Young Frankenstein, only lasting about 20 minutes into the movie before you were dead asleep, snoring against Javi’s chest, still dressed in If You Give A Mouse A Cookie costume from earlier today. Carrying you to bed and undressing you from your mouse ears and oversized overalls, Javi curled into bed next to you, pulling your body against his as he stared at the ceiling. Despite how hard he tried to fall asleep, he laid there, wide awake as ever, as his head raced with the tornado of thoughts brewing inside his brain.
Javier Peña had never really considered himself to be an anxious person. For most of his life, he couldn’t be. For the sake of his job, the sake of his family after his Mom passed, Javi had survived the only way he had known how- Block it out, and ignore it. And so far, that strategy had seemed to bode for him pretty darn well. But that was before he had anyone who depended on him, cared about him, anyone who made his life worth living for. That was before he had met you. Now, Javi found himself at the crossroads of a moment he had been waiting for since the moment he had first laid eyes on you. Something that brought him absolute joy and sheer terror at the same time- Javier Peña was going to propose to you, and he was an anxious fucking mess.
If that in itself wasn’t enough, things at the Laredo County Sheriff's Department had been an absolute shit show. Mexico was the only thing on anyone’s radar, making for long days and high tension at the office, trying to do anything to slow the spread of the cartel’s influence across the border. Day after day, report after report, it felt like the department was drowning in the endless shitty news of new death tolls, record breaking trafficking stats, and lack of control as cocaine moved across the Rio Grande at a groundbreaking pace. Even though he found himself even further removed from Mexico than he ever was in Colombia, he couldn’t help but feel that painful, searing wrench in his gut when he sat down to really think about it.
You.
Spending your lives together.
Having a family.
Protecting his wife and kids.
The things he would do to keep you safe.
The terrible things he had done he had justified were keeping other people safe.
The imagines of the things he wish he could unsee.
The pain and hurt he wished he could take back.
The fear of what he was capable of doing.
So with a knot in his chest from work, a ring hidden away in his sock drawer, and the beginnings of a plan to ask the woman he loved more than life itself to marry him, Javi coped with the weight of his stress the only way he knew how. He couldn’t fucking sleep.
The thoughts played in his mind on repeat, torturing him with every loop around his brain. He tried his best to close his eyes, to empty his head for a moment of peace, but no matter how much he wished he could have willed himself to sleep, it was no use. By the time the alarm clock on his nightstand read 2:05 AM, Javi had completely given up on the idea of rest for the night, quietly making his way out of bed to go wander around the living room. It wasn’t long before you too were also awake, rolling over in your sleep to find Javi’s space in the bed cold and empty. Rubbing your eyes and propping yourself up against your pillow, you scanned around the darkness of your room as you came to, realizing that Javi was nowhere to be found. Draping one of the blankets from your bed over you, you crept into the hallway, greeted by the soft light of one of the living room lamps painting shadows against the wall.
“Javi, are you up?” Your voice still soft and sleepy, rubbing your hand along your face, squinting from the sudden brightness that lit up the room.
“Osita, baby, did I wake you up? I'm so sorry. Go back to bed, okay?” Javi shot up from the couch, setting down whatever book he had been half focused on reading as he watched your bed headed figure meander into the living room.
“No, it’s okay.” You grumbled, holding out your blanket covered arms for Javi to melt his body into yours, wrapping you in a tight hug. You pressed your head into the bare skin of his chest, snaking your hands around his waist as he planted his lips against the the top of your head, burying his nose in your tangled hair. “Baby, what’s going on? Why can’t you sleep? I’m worried about you, Jav.”
“I’m… Yeah, I’m okay, Hermosa. Just a lot on my mind.” He sighed, his exhale still buried in your hair as he savored the smell of you, still lingering even in your sleepy state.
His pause alone was enough to know okay wasn’t the word that you would use to describe Javi right now. His words were burdened and fatigued, making it clear that whatever was on his mind was weighing on him more heavily than he wanted to admit.
“Are you sure? Javi, if you wanna talk about anything, you know I’m always here, right?”
You wanted so desperately to pry. Everything in you had a feeling that whatever was keeping him up were entangled in the parts of his dark parts past, the last secrets holding up the final wall between the two of you. You knew from your brothers how hard it was to talk about the pain and suffering they had witnessed, and begging them to talk about it before they were ready only seemed to make it worse. Hell, after Patrick died, it felt like you didn’t sleep for weeks, and it had taken you months to open up about it. You knew Javi hurt, and as much as you wanted to, digging deeper into the things that plagued him in his restless nights wasn’t what he needed right now. Right now, he just needed someone to be there for him.
“Is there anything I can do, Javi? I just wanna help.” The breath of your sympathetic whispers were hot against Javi’s skin, squeezing your arms to pull him as close to you as he could. He paused for a moment, letting out another deep breath as cradled the back of your head with his palm, running his hands through your hair.
“Will- Will you stay up with me? Just a little bit longer?” His voice trembled as you turned your head to lock your eyes with his, the gentle nod of your head bringing him a moment of relief.
“Of course, baby. Of course I’ll stay up with you. Do you wanna turn on the TV or put on a movie? Sometimes that helps me sleep.” You stretched your arms over your head, scrunching your face as you yawned before tugging your blanket tighter around your body.
“Believe me, Hermosa, I know it does.” He let out a soft chuckle as he pressed a soft kiss against your forehead.
“Oh shit, yeah that is true. I don’t even think I made it halfway through Young Frankenstein tonight, which is a crime. It’s such a good movie. I don’t even remember getting into bed.” You yawned again, this time taking one of your blanket covered fists to try and rub the sleep out of your eyes, forcing yourself to stay awake.
“Well, if you give a mouse pizza and a movie after a long day at school, then she’ll probably need her boyfriend to carry her to bed because she’s so tired.” Now awake enough, Javi’s cute jab at your costume for school made you let out a little giggle, giving him a little shove with your blanket wrapped body. “Why don’t we turn the rest of it on, so you can finish watching?”
“I don’t wanna fall asleep on you, Javi.” You grumbled, pouting up at him, considering he had just asked you to stay awake with him.
“It’s okay. As long as I have you by me, I’ll be alright, I promise.” Reluctantly, you nodded in agreement, plopping yourself on the couch as Javi turned on the TV, rewinding the VHS tape to the point where you had fallen asleep earlier before joining you, draping his arm around your shoulder as you tucked in your knees and scooted closer to him. You sat for a few minutes in silence, letting the sounds of the movie fill the background. As you turned your head to look up at Javi, you could tell that even though his eyes were pointed at the screen, there was no way he was really watching the movie. Reaching up your hand, you ran your fingers across the length of his strong jaw, his stubble scratching against your palm, forcing him to look back at you. Your eyes met his, the sweet, chocolate brown looking back at you, with a confusing mix of exhaustion, guilt, want and helplessness. You brought your face closer to his, your lips now only inches apart as your whispers danced against his mouth, desperate to find something to ease his pain.
“What do you need, Javi? Whatever you need, I’ll give it to you.”
His tongue swept against his bottom lip, taking one last shaky breath before his words left his body with his exhale.
“You. I need you.”
His hands found their way to the bare skin of your thighs, his fingertips barely brushing against your flesh as he traced his way up to your torso, toying with the hem of one of his shirts that always looked so much better on you than him. Pressing his palm against the soft curves of your stomach, he tugged at the waistband of your sleep shorts, causing you to shift your body so he could slide them down your legs. Reaching over towards his lap, you grasped at his boxers, feeling him already half hard under the fabric as you rubbed your hand against him. Javi held your hips, slowly guiding you to straddle him as you kicked your shorts off your feet, leaving them in a pile on the ground. Slowly, you began to grind deeper into his lap, the feeling of him now fully hard beneath you. Gently prompting you to raise your arms over your head, Javi lifted your shirt, leaving you bare as he dropped it next to your shorts.
“Is this okay?” Javi rasped, pressing languid kisses against your neck and collarbone as you ran your hands against the width of his broad shoulders.
“Of course, baby.” Your reply low and horse as you began to drag the fabric of his boxers lower and lower, finally letting his cock spring free as his waistband pushed past. You brought your palm to your mouth, licking a long, wet strip across it before wrapping it around his length, thumbing over the precum already leaking from his tip. Javi tilted his head against the back of the couch as you twisted your wrist, stroking his cock, letting out a hushed moan before sitting back up to watch you.
“You’re fucking perfect, Osita. I don’t deserve you.” He dug his fingertips into the soft flesh of your ass, his sweet, brown eyes locked on yours as you pressed against him, nibbling at his ear.
“You deserve everything, Javi. I could give you everything in the world and it still wouldn’t be enough.” Javi grasped at your face, cupping your cheeks as he pressed his lips against yours in a deep, intense kiss, his voice shaky and lustful as his mouth parted with yours before he spoke.
“I don’t need anything besides you, Osita. Eres mi todo. Estás todo lo que necesito. (You are my everything. You’re all I’ll ever need.) He shuttered, letting out a low groan as you continued to rub your hand along his length, Javi now reaching down to trace lazy circles around your clit before dipping his fingers inside your wet heat. His fullness made you whimper, wrapping tighter around his cock as you stroked him, now bucking your hips against his hand as his fingers curled, bumping against the spongy spot that made you lose control. “Does that feel good, sweet girl? Fuck, you’re so wet.
“Mhmmmmm.” You gasped, rapidly nodding your head as his digits pulsed inside you, your cunt already drenched, desperate to feel the fullness of his dick, despite the thickness of his fingers. Carefully, you lifted your hips, moving yourself closer to him as you ran your fingers through the soft ends of his sleepy curls. Sitting up on your knees, Javi removed his hand as he watched you hover over him, his palms roaming to your hips as you guided his tip through your folds, collecting your arousal before lining him up with your entrance. His jaw went slack as you lowered down on to him, taking your time as you savored the stretch of every sweet inch until you had bottomed out at his base.
“Fuckkk, baby.” He mewled, gently guiding his hands against your hips as you dragged yourself up along his length before headfully sinking back down, the tip of his cock bumping against your cervix with each movement. Javi nipped at your neck, trailing hot, wet kisses down your collarbone before stopping at your breasts, flicking this tongue along each of your pebbled nipples as you pushed deeper into his lap, whimpering at his touch. “My sweet girl, always taking me so well, like you were fucking made for me, baby. God, you’re so fucking gorgeous.” Javi pulled you in tighter, caging his chest against yours as his arms wrapped around the small of your back as he rested his face in the crook of your neck. “Fuck, I love you so much, Osita.” His words were desperate and needy against your bare skin, digging your fingers into his dark curls as you swirled your hips around his cock.
“I love you too, Javi. More than anything.” You moaned as felt Javi shift his weight, thrusting upwards as he buried himself deep inside you. His fullness had you digging your nails into the nape of his neck, your body melting into his with each push and pull against each other. You could feel the all too familiar tingle creeping up your legs and through the base of your spine as Javi’s hand found its way to circle around your clit, already throbbing as the curled hair around his base brushed against your sensitive nerves. The lewd noises of your moans and tangled bodies drowned out the sounds of the TV behind you, practically hearing how wet you were as Javi cock slipped in and out of your heat, his pace pounding as he punched into you. You could feel your walls beginning to tighten around him, arousal pooling in your belly, Javi knowing you were close as you whimpered into the crook of his neck. “Fuck baby, don’t stop- ahhhh- please don’t stop, I’m so close.”
“I know, baby, I know. Let go for me, Osita. Wanna feel you soak my lap before I fuck you full of me. Cum for me baby, it’s okay, I’ve got you.” Javi’s fingers rubbed faster along your clit as you rolled your hips, sinking yourself deeper onto his cock with each thrust, your vision going white as you could feel yourself come undone.
“Javi, Javi- fuck- Javi, Jav-ahhhhhh.” You could feel yourself gush around him, crying out his name as you reached your high, your legs shaking and fingers digging into his skin, pleasure flowing through your veins.
“That’s it, Hermosa. Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum too, fuck myself so deep inside you. My perfect girl. Mierda- Quiero que seas mío para siempre, mi amor. Solo tú, por siempre y para siempre. (Shit- I want you to be mine forever, my love. Only you, forever and always). Fuck me, I- fuckkkk.” Javi hissed as he buried himself deep in your hilt, spilling every drop of his spend against your walls. You could feel the mixture of the both of you dripping down your thighs, soaking Javi’s lap as you slumped into his body, your heart racing as the damp curls of his hair pressed against your shoulder. You both sat there for a moment, letting your chests rise and fall together in sync as you came to. “Fuck me, Osita. I could stay like this forever, baby.”
“You and me both. Although, I feel like that would make things awfully inconvenient for the both of us.” Your soft, sleepy giggles making Javi smile as he ran his fingers though the twisted ends of your hair. Carefully, you lifted yourself up, hissing at the loss of Javi inside you.
“Thank you, Osita.” Javi whispered, tenderly circling his thumb along your jaw as you curled up next to him.
“For what?”
“Just- fuck, you’re so good to me. I don’t know what I’d do without you. So, I just- thank you. Thank you for being everything I need.” Planting a gentle kiss on your forehead, Javi pulled you tighter, holding you in his arms as you leaned against him.
“I’ll always be here for you, Javi. I promise.”
You hoped he knew. That he knew your words were true. That when the time came for him to open up to you, letting you into the painful past that loomed above him, that you wouldn’t run. You would be right by his side, just as you were right now.
“Well good morning, Sleeping Beauty.” Javi chuckled as you twisted in the passenger seat, stretching your arms over your head, scrunching your face, letting out a lengthy yawn.
“Fuck, how long was I asleep for? How much longer do we have left? Sorry, I wasn’t planning on sleeping that long, I just wanted to take a nap for a little while we drove.” You ran your hands over your face, looking out at the bright Texas sun shining over the neat suburban neighborhood you now found yourself driving through. Javi reached over across the center console, rubbing his hand along your thigh as he chuckled to himself.
“Baby, I knew from the moment you fell asleep you were gonna be out for the rest of the drive, it’s okay. I was just worried I was gonna have to wake you up in the Murphy’s driveway.” You grumbled as you looked over at Javi, giving him a playful swat against his arm, shaking your head, now emerging from your post nap fog.
“Well if we weren't up fucking at 2:30 in the morning, perhaps I wouldn’t be so tired, hmmmm?”
Javi rolled his eyes as you poked fun at how the both of you had found yourselves last night, trying to ease Javi’s sleeplessness. While your solution had worked enough to ease him back to bed, it had now left you wide awake, wondering what had been going through Javi’s head, torturing him enough to keep him up. It had also meant that the two of you had slept in much longer than you intended, leaving later than planned for Steve and Connie’s. The two of you had quickly packed your things and hit the road, stopping to grab lunch on the way before you found yourself dead asleep next to Javi for the last hour and a half of your journey to San Antonio. With only a few minutes now left in your drive, you peered out the window, admiring the houses that lined the quiet streets of the Murphy’s neighborhood.
“This is a cute subdivision.” You smiled over at Javi, admiring the houses, charming and inviting as they were freshly decorated from Halloween.
“Yeah, it is pretty nice.” He grinned back, wrapping his palm around your thigh, giving your leg a little squeeze. He took a deep breath, his voice now shifting in tone, becoming more shaky and nervous. “Would you uh- would you, um, wanna live in a neighborhood like this?”
“Maybe. I don’t know, the houses are all really close together. I spent so much of my life in the city, and even at my house growing up, everything always felt so cramped. After coming here, especially after seeing your ranch, I don’t know, I would love to be somewhere with more space. But that’s a big ask, so, maybe one day if it works out, I guess.” You reached over, rubbing your hand along Javi’s arm, your soft smile meeting his tender gaze as he smirked, nodding to himself.
“Yeah, one day.”
Taking a last turn down one of the neighborhood streets, the two of you pulled up to the quaint two story home belonging to the Murphy’s. Turning off the ignition, Javi paused for a moment, grinning to himself as he ran the hand resting on your leg up to your face, cupping your check as his eyes roamed the length of your body, taking every inch of you in as his sweet brown eyes consumed you. “I love you, Osita.”
“I love you too, Jav.” Both of your heads tilted, your lips gently pressing against one anothers as you traced your hand through Javi’s dark curls, pulling him closer into you. You could feel his smile against your mouth as his tongue barely swiped against your bottom lip, the two of you so lost in the moment, you hadn’t even seen Steve make his way out of the house to greet you, let alone the fact that he was now standing at the driver’s side door, hands on his hips as he watched your impromptu makeout session in Javi’s truck.
“You two lovebirds want help bringin’ your bags in, or do I need to give you a minute?” Steve chuckled to himself as you and Javi shot up, hearts racing and faces going white hearing his distinct drawl and rapid tapping at the driver’s side window. Taking a deep breath to compose himself, Javi placed one more soft kiss on your forehead before promptly turning around to flip off Steve and opening the driver’s side door. “You two are worse than a pair of horny teenagers, I swear.” You could hear Steve still snickering to himself as you exited out your side of the car, making your way over to find Javi and Steve in a tight hug, lovingly patting each other on the back.
“Fuck off, Murph.” Javi shook his head against Steve’s embrace, pulling away to grab your two bags from the backseat.
“Listen, I’m not the one makin’ out in my driveway.” Steve shrugged as you sheepishly emerged from your side of the truck, smiling at you as grimaced at him.
“He started it…” You glanced over at Javi, you and Steve now both giggling as he pulled you in for a hug.
“Of course he did, wouldn’t put anything past this old bastard. How ya doin’ sweetheart? Good to see the both of you, we’re really glad you guys could make it.
“She’s doing great after the hour and a half nap she took on the way here.” Javi interjected, slamming the truck door behind him, slinging both of your bags over his shoulder.
“Whatever, you meanie. In my defense, I was not planning to sleep that long, and I think Halloween exhaustion got the best of me.” You shot Javi a quick wink, trying to bite down on your lip before turning back to face Steve.
“Listen, I don’t blame ya. I’m fuckin’ exhausted after trick-or-treating with 3 kids, let alone tryin’ to keep ‘em wrangled at school all day. I love those girls, but I don’t think I could've gotten them in my parents car fast enough when they came to pick ‘em up this morning. Here, come on in, I won’t make you stand out in the driveway all day, unless you need to make out more.”
As you stepped into the Murphy home, you were greeted by an abundance of Halloween streamers and banners hanging in the living room and up the stairwell to the second floor, along with a few Barbie dolls and accessories scattered across the entryway, nearly stepping on one as you came through the door. You could smell the sweet scent of something baking in the kitchen as Connie came rushing through the hallway, arms outstretched to greet you and Javi. “Oh it’s so good to see you two, thank you so much for coming!” Connie squeezed you and Javi in a tight hug before she backed away, kicking one of the toys on the floor across the room. “Sorry about the Barbies, I told the girls to clean up before they left for their grandparents this morning but I think all 3 of them are still running on a sugar high from last night and that obviously didn’t happen.”
“Thank you so much for having us! Don’t worry about it at all, I totally understand! Javi was just telling me on the way over how much he was hoping the girls had Barbies he could play with anyways!” The 3 of you laughed as Javi rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as you gave him a smirk and a little nudge.
“Fuck, I forgot how funny she was Jav.” Steve snickered to himself, picking up one of the Barbies and tossing it across the room into one of the toy baskets along the wall. “Seriously though, we are really glad you guys could make it. Your birthday party was fun as hell, old man. Glad to be close enough to actually see each other and do stuff like this again.”
Before Javi would respond, you all jumped, startled by the sound of the kitchen timer beeping rapidly from the other room. “Oh crap, sorry, I gotta grab the cupcakes out of the oven!” Connie grimaced apologetically, making her way back to the kitchen.
“Do you need any help?” You asked, excited to spend more time with Connie.
“Oh my gosh actually if you could help with frosting the cupcakes that would be amazing. I made these yesterday for Olivia and Abby’s class parties, and I had no idea it was gonna take so long and was worried I wasn’t going to have enough time for all of them before the party! Thank you!”
“Of course!” You replied, grinning at her before following her lead to the kitchen, giving a little wave as you disappeared around the hall, looking back at Steve and Javi. “Have fun, you two.”
Steve paused for a moment until the both of you were out of sight, waiting to forcefully slap his hand against Javi’s chest, making him groan from the unexpected pain.
“What the fuck was that for, you jackass?” Javi winced, glaring at Steve.
“Where the fuck’s the ring, man?! Steve hissed through gritted teeth, looking back at Javi in disappointment. “I thought you were gonna fuckin’ do it after you got back from Chicago and met her family?! I thought everything was all good with- oh shit, did something happen with the ho-”
“Shhhhhh! You fuckin’ idiot, please, talk louder, I don’t think the people at the end of the street could hear you.” Javi looked around the corner, clenching his jaw, praying that you hadn’t heard anything from the kitchen.
“I’m not that fuckin’ loud… Shit, what the fuck happened then?” Steve grumbled, looking over at Javi with concern.
“Can we maybe talk about proposal plans somewhere that’s not right by the woman I’m trying to propose to?” Running his thumb over his balled fists, Javi’s eyes darted back and forth, staying on the lookout for your return.
“Fine, fine, fine. I’ll show you where the guest room is and then you can tell me.” Steve motioned up the stairs, Javi trailing behind with both your bags draped around his shoulders
“Was I really that fuckin’ loud?”
“…Have you heard yourself talk?”
“So how’s everything been going at work? There definitely was a full moon sometime in the past week because things were crazy at the hospital, I’m sure they had to be equally as bad at an elementary school.” You and Connie giggled as you squeezed a dollop of orange frosting onto one of the cupcakes before taking one of the little bags to pipe on eyes and a mouth to make it look like a pumpkin.
“Oh my god, I think it must have been on Wednesday, I had a boy cut another girl’s hair with scissors and then had to call another parent because her daughter bit another kid at recess pretending to play werewolves. I felt really bad we didn’t come last night, I was exhausted after our Halloween party, I fell asleep on poor Javi at like, 8 o’clock.”
Although you found yourself laughing with Connie again, you couldn’t help but shake the uncomfortable feeling you had in your gut as you thought about after you had woken up in the middle of the night to find Javi wide awake and distressed. You carefully set down your spatula, taking a deep breath before glancing over at Connie, still frosting next to you. “Hey, uh, Connie? Can, um- Can I ask you something?” Connie immediately sensed the shift in your tone, putting down her cupcake.
“Of course, honey. What’s going on?”
“Did um, did- Did Steve ever- ever talk to you? About all the stuff that happened in Colombia? I mean like, I know you were there, but I don’t know. Sorry, I don’t know what I’m trying to ask, this is probably way too personal, I-” You could feel yourself shrinking, retracting in embarrassment at your overly intrusive question, unable to finish your thought before Connie cut you off, placing her hand on your shoulder.
“Oh, honey…” Her eyes were filled with sympathy as they looked back at yours, letting out a sigh before she responded. “Did something happen?” You began to nod your head no, even though you could feel the words yes burning in your throat. You took another shaky breath, trying to hold back the tears now welling in your eyes as you spoke.
“No I mean- well, yeah, I guess. Last night, I woke up and Javi wasn’t in bed. He was out in the living room and I could tell that something was bothering him. I don’t know- maybe it was nothing. I just- when my brothers came back from active duty, there were a lot of things that kind of just went unspoken. I knew it was hard for them to talk about. Charlie handled it okay, but my brother Patrick never wanted to talk to anyone about what happened, and it just- I don’t know Connie, I don’t think Javi would ever do anything stupid like he did, but- fuck- it scares me sometimes. I know Javi’s done things that he’s probably not proud of, and I get it’s part of the nature of what his job was. I don’t care. I really don’t. People do shitty things when they’re put in shitty situations. But he never talks about it. Ever. Does… Does he not trust me? I care about him so much, Con. More than anything. I get so worried about him.”
Your tears were now streaming down your cheeks, leaving your face wet as you wiped the back of your hand across your skin to try and do some form of damage control before Connie embraced you, pulling you in for a hug, tightly wrapping her arms around you. “Oh sweetheart. Of course he trusts you. When Steve came back, he was a mess. I don’t think it really all hit him until he was finally home. I guess you’re right, it was different because I was there, but even then, there were things that happened that I didn’t know about. After begging and begging him, I finally got him to go to see someone and it really helped, but even now, there’s times where it still creeps up on him. Honey, Javi loves you so much. I didn’t think I’d ever live to see the day he was in love as he is with you. If he’s anything like Steve, he just doesn't wanna hurt you.”
You sniffled, taking a step back to wipe your nose with your sleeve, your lip trembling as you tried to keep from crying harder than you already were. “But that’s what hurts, Connie. It hurts me to think he has to keep this from me, like I’m gonna think less of him for what he’s been through.”
“I know. Have you talked to him about it?” Connie’s voice was gentle and sweet, rubbing her hand along your arm as she listened to what you needed to get off your chest.
“No… I guess I should have. I never wanted to pry. I know it’s hard to talk about, I just- I wanna be there for him Connie. I don’t want him to have to do it all on his own.” You shifted your gaze to the ground, guilt washing over you. After Patrick, you couldn’t live with the idea of letting Javi try to suffer through his past alone. You loved him more than anything- and even the slightest thought of going through anything similar to what had happened to Patrick again with Javi was almost paralyzing.
“I think the best thing you can do is to go talk to him.” Looking back up, you saw Connie smiling at you, trying to convince you that everything would be okay, even if it felt like it wasn’t. “Why don’t you go find him? Party’s starting soon anyways, you can go change into your costumes and come down wherever you’re ready. I’ll be just fine with the cupcakes, tell Steve can put himself to work frosting.” The both of you grinned as you tried to wipe your tears, nodding slowly in agreement.
“Thanks, Connie.” You whispered into her shoulder as you pulled her in for a hug before heading up the stairs to find where Javi and Steve had gone. It didn’t take you long to find the pair, hearing their voices carry through the hallway from the slightly cracked door of the guest bedroom. You were about to knock and interrupt their conversation, stopping yourself with your fist barely touching the door as you tried to make out what they were talking about.
“The offer was in fucking cash, too. I was trying to make it easier so I could speed up the process, but it’s been taking them so goddamn long to close on everything so I can finally go sign the fucking paperwork.”
“That fuckin’ blows, Jav. I’m sorry. It’s not like she knows any better, though. It’ll still be a huge fuckin’ surprise, I’ll tell you that much.”
“I know. It’s been killing me to wait this long. I just want it to be perfect, Steve. She deserves everything. Honestly, I’m kinda glad it bought me some more time. I need to find a way to get her to see it before everything’s official in case she fucking hates it.”
“Javi. She’s not gonna hate it. Fuck it, tell her Connie and I are lookin’ for somethin’ and we wanted you two to go see it for us. I don’t know, maybe that’s too obvious. Speakin’ of which, I should probably go check to see if she needs anything before this party, I’m already in the fuckin’ dog house for forgettin’ to bring the girl’s trick-or-treatin’ bags to school, I don’t need to be in trouble for anything else.”
What the hell were they talking about? What was Javi signing? Why was it taking so long? What the hell did it have to do with you? Wait… holy fuck. No way… Was he-
Before you could finish your thought, you suddenly realized Steve was making his way towards the door. You quickly rapped your fist against the wood, trying to play off the fact you had been eavesdropping and make it look like you had just unassumingly made your way upstairs, not overhearing the conversation the two were just having.
Knock, knock.
“Hey, it’s me! Uh, Steve, Con wants to know if you can help her with the cupcakes really quick.” You pushed open the door, trying your best to smile at the suspicious pair as Steve shook his head, looking back at Javi.
“It’s always fuckin’ somethin’. I don’t even know what I did wrong this time, I swear.” Steve held up his hands defensively, sliding his way past you in the doorway before heading downstairs, leaving you standing there awkwardly, unsure how to feel after your conversation with Connie and the one you had just overheard.
“Hey, Osita. How’s everything goin’ down there? Sorry, we were just about to come down and- Hey, baby, you okay?” Javi stood up, concern spreading across his face from the strange scrunch in your brow as you stared at the floor.
“Ummmm…” You froze for a moment, unsure of what to do. On the one hand, your conversation with Connie had you ready to confront Javi, to finally work up the courage to ask him about the past life he had tried his best to keep from you. But as you glanced over at him, seeing his sweet brown eyes and stupidly handsome face, remembering the discussion you had just overheard through the doorway, the other hand meant you weren’t at risk of ruining your night that the two of you had been so looking forward to, and right now, the other hand was going to have to be the one you needed to play. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good, I just- I was gonna ask you something but forgot what I was gonna say. I’m sure I’ll remember it eventually.” You smiled at Javi, neither of you completely convinced by your response. “But um, Connie said that people are gonna start getting here soon, so we can change into our costumes if you want.” A smirk slowly stretched across your cheeks as you nodded over to the black duffle bags laying on the bed.
Javi’s grin matched yours quickly, grabbing your hips and pulling you closer against him as you giggled. “You sure we’re not gonna be the only ones dressed up?”
“Well considering it’s a Halloween party and I literally just talked to Connie about what she and Steve are wearing downstairs, I’m gonna give it a pretty confident yes. Worst case, it just looks like you’re wearing a white shirt and vest, Mr. Solo. You stuck up, half-witted, scruffy looking nerf herder.” You raised your eyebrows, playfully poking at his chest. Javi paused, shaking his head at your quote, firing one right back at you as he bit down on his lip.
“You just like me because I’m a scoundrel. There aren’t enough scoundrels in your life.”
“I happen to like nice men.”
“I am a nice man.”
Javi cupped your face, pulling you in for a long, heavy kiss before backing away to unpack your bags, shooting you a quick wink as you rolled your eyes. Jesus, he even found a way to make Star Wars sexy. Just when you thought you couldn’t be anymore in love, Javier Peña never failed to find a way to make you realize you’d never stop falling for him.
After putting in what felt like the 74th bobby pin into your hair after getting the last braid wrapped over your head, you gave yourself a once over in the mirror, pleasantly surprised by how well your costume had turned out. While Javi was disappointed you were adamant you were not going as Princess Leia from Return of the Jedi and showing up in front of a group of strangers at Steve and Connie’s party in her slave costume, you and Javi both agreed that Hoth Princess Leia was definitely the next best look. Staring at you with his puppy dog eyes, Javi had been adamant about waiting with you as you finished getting ready, leaning his hip against the bathroom counter, arms crossed over his chest as he watched you finish the last of your hair and makeup.
“Okay, I think that should stay. All those years of braiding my hair for under my hockey helmet are finally coming in handy for something.” You snickered, pushing the final clip into your hair to hold it into place, giving yourself a once over in the mirror. As you looked yourself down, Javi’s eyes wandered up and down your body just as fast, practically undressing you as fast as you had put your costume on.
“Goddamn, Osita… Fuck, you’re so hot.”
“Me? Jesus Christ, Javi. You put Harrison Ford to shame with how fucking good you look. I like Han Solo better with a mustache anyways.” You licked your tongue against your bottom lip, running your hands along the muscles of his arms, straining against the tight henley shirt he was wearing under his vest. You were no better than Javi, practically having to force yourself to not look in his general direction while you were getting ready to prevent yourself from pouncing on him. But given the lack of chatter downstairs, and the impressive speed at which the two of you had gotten ready, you really couldn’t help yourself. Slowly, you let your hands begin to slip down his arms and across his chest, palming at the denim of his black jeans as he let out a deep groan.
“Hermosa…” He hissed against your neck as you grasped at the bulge now growing under his pants, your other hand now making its way down to undo his belt, the clinking of the metal drowned out by Javi’s heavy panting. You began lowering your body, sliding Javi’s pants and boxers down his thighs as his cock sprang free, his tip already red and leaking with precum. You rested on your knees, face to face with his length as you wrapped your hand around him, slowly stroking him a few times.
“This okay, Captain Solo?” You batted your lashes at him, giving him a wink before letting your spit dribble onto his cock, taking his tip into your mouth and swirling your tongue around it. Curling your fingers around his base, you began to twist your wrist, hollowing out your cheeks as you took him deeper into your mouth.
“Oh, fuck me. Holy shit, Osita.” He moaned, tilting his head back, letting his jaw go slack as your head bobbed back and forth. He gently rested his hand along the side of your face, helping to guide you along his length as you took him deeper and deeper down your throat. “Jesus Christ, baby. Fuck, that feels so good. You look so hot, god fuckin’ dammit.” Javi’s words were labored and shaky as you started to increase your pace, wrapping your free hand around the back of his bare thigh, digging your fingertips into his leg. Feeling the pressure beginning to build in his stomach, Javi began rocking his hips, his jaw completely slack as he looked down at the sight of how well you took him in your mouth, saliva dribbling down your chin as sucked along his cock, hard and heavy on your tongue. “Fuck, Osita. I’m not gonna last much longer. Can I cum like this, baby? Fill up that- fuck- fill up that pretty little mouth of yours?””
You glanced up at him, nodding, your lips still wrapped around his dick, the motions of your head and wrist now becoming faster and sloppier as you watched Javi’s brow scrunch and jaw clench, a sign you knew all too well that he was moments away from coming undone.
“Such a good fucking girl, taking me so well. Fuck, baby- shit- se sientes tan bien, estoy tan cercaaahhhhhh-” (you feel so good, I’m so closeeeee-). The hot ropes of his spend coated the back of your throat, the salty, tangy mix filling your mouth as Javi whined, giving his hips one last push as kept your lips wrapped around him, making sure that you had milked him of every last drop before releasing. Letting your spit and his release fall from the corners of your lips, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, smirking up at Javi’s blissed out expression. “Jesus Christ, Osita. You’re too fucking good at that. Holy shit. Lemme take care of-“
You held up your hand to stop him as you stood up, your gesture cutting off the rest of his sentence as you helped to pull up his jeans and boxers still resting along his thighs. “I’m allowed to give my hot ass boyfriend blowjobs without anything in return. C’mon, we better get downstairs before Steve walks in on us again.” You pressed up on your tiptoes, planting a quick kiss on Javi’s lips as he reached down to buckle his belt before the two of you tried your best to fix yourself up in the mirror to avoid the inevitable shit Steve was about to give the both of you. Giving Javi a quick nod in the mirror before turning off the light and heading out the door, he gave your ass a playful smack, making you squeal in surprise, making you turn on your heels. Resting his hand on his hip, he beamed at you, biting down on his lip.
“Fuck, I love you.”
“I know.”
The Murphy’s living room had begun to pool with guests as you made your way down the stairs, looking for Steve and Connie amongst the crowd. You and Javi both grabbed a beer from the cooler at the bottom of the stairwell, quickly turning around as you heard Steve’s familiar twang approaching behind you.
“Well I’ll be damned. You got this motherfucker in a costume? He must really love you.” Steve chuckled, shaking Javi by the shoulders. “And Star Wars too?! You asshole, how many times did I try to tell you they were good fuckin’ movies?! You shoulda dressed him up like Jabba the Hut.” You and Steve cackled as Javi rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, and what the fuck are you supposed to be? A sad pirate?” Javi jabbed, poking fun at Steve’s poorly put together costume.
“Listen, Olivia and Abby both wanted to be the Little Mermaid, so we had two Ariel’s, Con was Ursula, Madison was the yellow fish and I didn’t wanna be that annoying ass crab, so pirate it was, asshole.” Steve retorted, punching at Javi’s arm, the two of them laughing at each other like little boys. “Alright, go enjoy yourselves lovebirds, I’ll see ya in a little bit. And Javi?”
“Yeah Murph?”
“You really gotta start checkin’ your pants, buddy.”
Javi’s cheeks turned red, his eyes darting down to his zipper, still all the way undone from your activities upstairs, the both of you grimacing at each other, sheepishly avoiding eye contact with Steve as he disappeared into the crowd.
It really wasn’t a surprise to Javi how many friends the Murphy’s had already managed to make in their time since moving to San Antonio. Their house was quickly crowded with all sorts of people- Steve and Connie’s co-workers, neighbors, parents of friends Olivia and Abby had made at school, regardless of where the party goers were from, everyone had collectively agreed to make adult Halloween just as fun as any kids. You and Javi were having a great time catching up with Steve and Connie, as well as meeting some of their other close friends, one of Connie’s neighbors being an elementary school teacher, giving you two plenty to commiserate about from the hellish week it had been. It didn’t take long for the party to move outside, Steve drunkenly deciding that he needed to make a bonfire, despite adamant argument that with the amount of alcohol Steve had in his system, he was going to spontaneously combust if he got close enough to a flame. Javi, sober enough to still help his friend make rational decisions, was glad that Steve was happy to let him build the bonfire.
“The force is strong with you, Han Solo.” You giggled, Javi wrapping his arm around your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss into your forehead as the two of you stared into the flickering orange glow of the fire pit.
“Not strong enough to extinguish Steve if he got close enough to it. Hey, I got shit all over my hands, I’m gonna go to the bathroom and wash ‘em off. You need anything while I’m inside, Princess?” You smiled as you nudged Javi at the nickname he had been adamant about using since you had put on your costume.
“I’m good, thank you. I’m gonna go wait over on the swingset so I don’t completely reek of bonfire later.” Javi nodded as he slid his hand down your back, giving your ass a quick squeeze before making his way through the crowd, heading towards the house. Surprised no one else had capitalized on the chance to sit down, you wandered over to the wooden playset at the corner of the Murphy’s backyard, taking a seat on one of the plastic swings, kicking your feet against the grass below.
“Hey, there she is! How goes it, Leia?” Taking a few long strides through the yard, Steve was now quickly making his way over to you, stumbling over his own feet as he somehow managed to sit himself down on the swing next to you. You tried your best not to laugh at Steve’s drunken state, but his current antics weren’t making it very easy on you.
“I could ask the same to you. You doin’ okay there, pirate?”
“Fuck sweetheart, I’m doin’ fuckin’ great. Where’s the asshole?”
“Inside, I’m sure he’ll be back out soon.” You snickered at Steve watching the beer dribble down his chin from the overly confident swig he had taken.
“Good, I don’t need ‘em right now. You were the one I was lookin’ for.” Steve pointed in your general direction, but clearly wasn’t aware enough to hit his target head on.
“Me?” You laughed, pointing back to yourself.
“Yes, you. You talk to him yet?”
“About?” You paused, wondering if Steve had any inkling of the conversation you were planning to have earlier, or if he was drunkenly deciding you and Javi needed to discuss something else.
“You know about what. I talked to Connie earlier. I figured I owed it to you to come talk to you about it, too.”
Your heart began to race, that uncomfortable feeling once again beginning to churn in your stomach as you thought about the things you and Connie had discussed earlier. “Steve, you don’t owe me anything, I-”
“No, I do. Hold on a second.” Steve turned away, letting out a hearty burp, pouding on his chest before facing back towards you. “Sorry, I’ve been holdin’ that in for like 10 minutes, I needed to let it out. Anyways… What was I sayin’? Oh shit, yeah, the grumpy bastard. Listen, sweetheart. I know it’s gonna fuckin’ suck, but you gotta be the one to bring it up and talk to him about it. If I know anything about that motherfucker, it’s that he will bottle things up for way too fuckin’ long until someone gets it out of him. He’s a good guy. He says he’s not, but he is. Saved my ass more times than I can count. That job made us do some fucked up shit neither of us are fuckin’ proud of. But that doesn’t mean he gets to keep it from you. I swear to God, that asshole is so fuckin’ in love with you, it makes me sick. You make him so happy. He just doesn’t wanna fuck up the best thing that’s ever happened to him.”
You weren’t sure if it was the right thing to do, but in that moment, all you could manage was to reach over to the swing next to you, pulling Steve in for a hug as you tried to keep your tears from staining his shirt. “Thanks, Steve.” You whispered, leaning back into your seat, using your sleeve to wipe the wetness from your cheeks.
“I know you love him too. You deserve to know. Don’t let him be a stubborn jackass to you, okay? I’m bein’ serious. I should be the one thankin’ you though, honey. In all the years I’ve known him, I never thought I’d see ‘em this happy. I promise I won’t get this drunk at your wedding.” Steve winked, straining to push himself up out of the swing, somehow managing to catch his balance as he stumbled into the grass.
“You do make a very inspirational drunk, Steve.” You laughed to yourself, looking up at him with a genuine smile. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Alright, enough sap, I’m gonna go get another fuckin’ beer, I’ll see ya around okay?”
“Okay, maybe a water would be good for you, too.”
“Water’s for pussies.”
“Water’s good for people who don’t want raging hangovers tomorrow.”
“Pirates are always drunk, so I’ll be fuckin’ fine.”
“Whatever you say, Steve.”
It didn’t take long for Javi to return, easily spotting his tall, broad body making his way through the crowd, beaming at you as he walked over to the swings. You tried your best to smile back at him with the uneasy pounding in your chest quickly building, feeling your heartbeat in your throat. “Hey, Hermosa. Sorry it took so long, I ended up stopping to get another drink on the-“
“Do- Javi, do you trust me?”
Your words were quiet and blunt as they rolled off your tongue, your eyes peeled on your feet kicking through the grass beneath you.
Javi’s brow immediately scrunched in confusion, completely off put by your question and demeanor. “Do I- Baby, what are you talking about? Of course I trust you? What’s going on?” Setting down his drink, he began making his way next to you in frantic, worried strides.
“Then why won’t you talk to me about it?” Your eyes darted from the ground up to his, his sweet brown eyes swirling with confusion at the firm tone of your voice and desperation growing across your face.
“Talk to you about what? Hermosa, what’s going on? Is everything ok-”
“Why won’t you talk to me about Colombia?”
Javi took a step back. He wasn’t sure if it was out of defense, or absolute shock from the words that had just fallen out of your mouth. He stared at you for a moment, his jaw locking as you could see how hard he swallowed, trying to bide his time as he calculated his response.
“Osita… It’s not that simple.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I don’t understand why we’re talking about this. Baby, if this is because of last night, you don’t need to worry about me, can we please just drop it?” The two of you faced each other in an unspoken standoff, Javi’s hands now resting on his hips as you crossed your arms over your chest. You had tried so hard to be patient, but in the moment, it was like all of your frustration was beginning to boil over.
“That’s exactly why we’re talking about this, Javi. Because I fucking worry about you. All the time. I’ve tried so hard to be patient. I’ve never, ever tried to get you to talk about it because I know it’s fucking hard. But last night, you’re up at 2 A.M, wandering around the apartment, and I’m begging you to tell me what’s wrong and you won’t fucking do it. I’m not an idiot, Javi. I can’t live in this weird in between space in your life where you pretend your past doesn’t exist when I know it still fucking haunts you. Why won’t you just talk to me about it?”
Javi could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his palms sweating as they clenched in tight fists at his sides. He tried so desperately to find an answer, something, anything he could tell you to try and justify his choices. The choices he had kept from you. The choices he couldn’t forgive himself for. “Because, I- fuck- because, goddamnit, I just- I was a terrible fucking person, okay? The things I did, they were-”
“What? Fucked up? Painful? Shitty? Of course they fucking were, Javi. You were literally in Colombia chasing down Pablo Fucking Escobar. What did you think I thought you were doing down there? Filing away paperwork? You don’t think I know that you did things you regret? That you’ve hurt people? Made choices that hurt innocent people who didn’t deserve it? I know Javi, I fucking know. I watched my brothers come back from the same goddamn thing. I tried so hard to give them space, to let them come to terms with the fucked up things they did on their own, and you know what fucking happened? One of them’s fucking dead because of it. I can’t let it happen again. I don’t care about what you did. It doesn’t make you a bad person. But you can’t try and hide it from me and pretend like it doesn’t exist. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you. But I can’t if you don’t trust me. Please trust me. Please. I love you so much, Javi. I can’t lose you.”
Javi stood in silence, as the both of you fought the tears streaming down your cheeks. He wasn’t sure if he had just been hit in the gut with a giant sucker punch, or if the weight of the world had just been lifted off his shoulders. He truly didn’t know how to feel. He wasn’t even sure if he had heard you correctly. Did you really just tell him that you knew about the fucked up, terrible things he had done and that you didn’t care? That you still fucking loved him? All you wanted was for him to trust that you wanted to be there for him? He could feel his hands trembling and lip quivering as he tried to find the words to speak.
“Osita… I- fuck, baby. Osita, I’m so sorry. I trust you with my fucking life. You- You don’t deserve to have to deal with with all the fucked up things I’ve done. I don’t wanna scare you away, baby. You’re the best thing that’s ever fucking happened to me and I was so terrified if you found out about the terrible person I used to be, you’d leave. It’s not fair to you, I can’t expect you to carry the weight of all the fucking things I’ve done, too. I’m so sorry.” Quietly, Javi sat down next to you on the empty swing, burying his hands in his face. Gently, you reached over, pulling his hands away, forcing him to look at you.
“Whatever you tell me isn’t gonna scare me away. I promise. The only thing that’s gonna scare me is when you try to pretend you’re okay when you’re not. Javi… Javi, I just- I just wanna be there for you. I don’t want you to have to do it alone. I’d do anything for you. I trust you more than anyone. You’re my best friend. I just- fuck- I just want you to trust that I’ll always be there for you to. I promise.”
And just like that, the last brick holding up the wall between you and Javier Peña collapsed. There was nothing left to run from. Nothing left to hide. After he returned home, he was a changed man. He had hated the person he had become. Maybe there was a part of him that didn’t want to be loved, because he didn’t believe that he deserved to be. But then, there was you.
You.
You had taken everything he had known and changed his life for the better. You had become his better half, the person he loved more than anyone in the world. You had proved he was worthy of more than just existing- you had proved to Javi that he was worth the love and happiness you had promised him from the moment you had come into his life and made it worth living for.
“You promise?”
“I promise. Always.”
The way Javi grabbed you and wrapped you in his arms, grasping at the back of your shirt as he pulled you in tighter, feeling the hot breath of his silent sobs against your shoulder told you everything you needed to know. You didn’t know much, but if there was one thing you did know, it was that you loved Javier Peña more than life itself. As quickly as it had felt like your life had fallen apart, he had come into it and picked up the broken pieces to put it back together. And on an October night in San Antonio, sitting on an old wooden swing set in the Murphy’s backyard, you hoped that Javi knew that you would always be there to pick up the shattered parts of his past, too.
You weren’t sure how many hours had passed as you sat hand in hand in the swings with Javi as you listened to anything and everything he had to say. Long after the backyard was empty, and the bonfire had faded to embers and ashes, and the only one left awake besides the two of you was Connie, trying to drag Steve back inside from the plastic lawn chair he had passed out on, you finally made your way up to bed for the best sleep the two of you had in a very, very long time. Your goodbyes to the Murphy’s had been short and sweet- Connie exhausted from the late night, and Steve barley coherent from how hungover he was, you were still both so thankful the two of you had made the journey out to see them, and the both of you, just as grateful for the sweet and supportive life long friends you knew the Murphy’s would become. Most of your drive back to Laredo was spent in a comfortable silence, the golden sunrise spilling through the windows of Javi’s truck as you cruised down the highway, Javi’s hand never leaving yours, your fingers intertwined together as his thumb gently rubbed against your soft skin and your head rested against his broad shoulder.
“How are you feeling about seeing your mom today?” You asked, lightly squeezing his arm as you smiled up at him, now exiting off the freeway quickly approaching the cemetery where you planned to meet Chucho to celebrate Día De Los Muertos, trying your best to comfort Javi as he prepared to see his mom’s gravesite for the first time since her funeral almost a decade ago. Javi let out a quiet sigh, his grip tightening just a little tighter around your hand as he looked over at you, a surprisingly calm look flooding his face.
“I’m actually doing okay. Better than I would have thought. I think I was always so worried that she wouldn’t be proud of me and the man I’d become after she was gone. I um- I finally think that she’d be proud of me now.” He glanced over at you, his smile soft and tender as he soaked in the reason for his pride sitting right beside him.
You noticed Chucho’s truck as you pulled up to park along the edge of the small cemetery, Chucho excitedly waving you down as you both hopped out of the car. Walking around to Javi, you were quick to grab his hand, giving him a reassuring grip as the two of you made your way through the gravestones along the thin cobblestone path towards Chucho, already arranging the items he had collected for Lucia’s ofrenda.
“Hola, niños.” Chucho grinned, wrapping his arms around the both of you. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Thanks for letting me be a part of today, Chucho. I know… Well, I just- I’m really honored to- just, thank you.” Chucho wasted no time pulling you into your own hug, his rough and worn hands holding you by the shoulders as he looked at you with misty eyes.
“Mija, I should be thanking you. If it wasn’t for you, I don’t know if we would all be here today. Lucia’s last wish to me was that I would promise to make sure Javier was happy. Now hija, I think my sweet Lucia can rest a little easier knowing someone else has already fulfilled my promise for me.” As the two of you spoke, you hadn’t noticed as Javi had quietly stepped over to his mother’s gravestone, crouching next to it, his fingers delicately tracing along the engraved letters of her name, his other hand holding one of the marigold flowers Chucho had brought with him. The two of you watched quietly as Javi sat next to his mom, gently placing the flower on the shiny stone as he spoke.
“Hola, mamá. Te extrañé. Siento haber tarado tanto.” (Hi mom. I missed you. I’m sorry I took so long). Javi’s voice trembled as he took a deep breath in, slowly exhaling as his hand rested on the stone, warm from the sun, shining brightly in the blue November sky. “Que estaba asustada de de verte porque estaba orgullosala de la persona en la que me había convertido. Que no quería decepcionarte. Tenía miedo mucho, mamá. Me sentí como si todo se derrumbase. solo quería olvidar. Pero entonces…” (I was scared to see you because I wasn’t proud of the person I’d become. I didn’t want to disappoint you. I was so scared, mom. I felt like I let everyone down. I just wanted to forget. But then…). Javi turned his head, seeing you and Chucho, arm in arm, a smile growing across his face as looked back at the two people in life he loved the most. He took an extra moment to stare at you and the soft grin spread between your cheeks, basking in the comfort and warmth of the woman who had forever changed his life for the better. “Pero entonces, mamá, La conocí. Que es perfecta. Nunca supe que podías amar tanto a alguien. Ella es lo mejor que me ha pasado. La habrías amado.ella es una maestra, tambien. A veces me pregunto qué ve en mí. No sé qué hice para merecerse. voy a pedirle que se case conmigo.Cuidaré bien de ella. Ella se merece todo lo que le pueda dar y más. Espero que estés orgulloso de mí, mamá. te echo mucho, Pero le juro a usted, al fin soy feliz. Te amo, mamá.” (But then, mom, I met her. She is perfect. I never knew you could love someone so much. She is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You would have loved her. She’s a teacher too. Sometimes, I wonder what she sees in me. I don’t know what I did to deserve her. I’m gonna ask her to marry me. I’m gonna take such good care of her. She deserves everything I can give her and more. I hope you’re proud of me, mamá. I miss you so much, but I promise you, I’m finally happy. I love you, mom.)
With a gentle nudge from Chucho, you softly stepped behind Javi, gently placing your hands on his shoulders before he rose up and you wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head against his chest as he wiped away the tears welling behind his eyes. Staring down at Lucia’s gravestone, Javi ran his hand through your hair, carefully planting a kiss against your head and burying his nose in the soft waves of your hair.
“I wish I would have had the chance to have met you, Mrs. Peña. I would have had someone else to commensurate with over all of the crazy teaching stories I’m sure the both of us have. Maria, Estelle and Linda all miss you a lot too, but I’m sure they haven’t changed a bit. Thanks for raising such a good son. I don’t know what I would do without him. I know he says that he doesn’t know what he did to deserve me, but I really think it should be the other way around. I promise I’ll look out for him.” You tried your best to smile through your soft sobs, looking up at Javi, tears streaming down his wet cheeks. It wasn’t long before Chucho had snuck up behind you, patting each of you on the back before smiling down at Lucia, too.
“Estos dos están tan enamorados, Lucia. Tal vez más que tú y yo. Ella es una buena chica. Estoy muy contenta de que ella sea parte de nuestra familia. Finalmente tendremos a nuestros nietos, también.” (These two are so in love, Lucia. Maybe even more than you and I. She is a great girl. I am so happy she is a part of our family. We are finally going to get our grandchildren, too). Chucho winked, nudging Javi in the side, forcing him to laugh through his tears, shaking his head at his dad’s comment. “Now, no more tears, you two. This is a happy day. Your mamá is smiling down on you, and I can almost hear here scolding me to keep you from crying anymore. C’mon, let’s decorate and eat, I even brought pozole.”
The three of you spent the next hour decorating Lucia’s grave with bright orange and gold cempazuchitl (marigold flowers) and little Calaveras (sugar skulls) painted in bold colors and refined details, sharing and laughing about Javi’s favorite memories of his mother while snacking on the Pozole Chucho had brought to share. For the first time in a long time, Javi no longer felt guilt and grief when he thought about his mom- her memory filled him with love and joy. He wasn’t the same bitter, broken man he was when he had said his final goodbyes to his mother all those years ago. While he wished he could change the past, the reality of the present, and his future finally brought him peace, knowing he could be proud of the man he had become, thanks to you.
As Javi helped Chucho to clean up the extra flowers and decorations he had brought, you couldn’t help yourself from reaching at the wrinkled photo you had shoved in your pocket as you had packed up to leave from the Murphy’s this morning. You carefully took it out, holding it gently in your hands as you tried to uncrinkle the edges. “You ready, Hermosa?” Javi called out, now a few steps ahead of you, making his way back towards the truck. “Hermosa?” He asked again, thinking perhaps you hadn’t heard him the first time. When he was greeted by silence again, he looked back to see you staring at the crumpled photo in your hands.
“I um- I know that he isn’t buried here, and uh, if you don’t want me to, it’s okay- but um- is it, is it alright if I leave a couple flowers for Patrick?” You sniffed, a tear dropping down on the photo of the two of you, Patrick holding you in a headlock as you laughed with a wide, toothy grin, drowning in one of his old Blackhawks jerseys that you were so excited to wear because it belonged to him.
“Of course, Osita. Of course it is.” Javi smiled at you softly, turning back around with the tub of leftover decorations, making his way towards you. Quietly, you walked back over to Lucia’s gravestone, carefully setting down the picture of you and Patrick next to it, putting a few marigolds over top of it so it stayed pinned in place from the warm breeze.
“I miss you, asshole. You deserved so much better. I hope you don’t still think that I hate you. I mean, I do, but you know what I mean. Honestly, you were lucky you didn’t have to live through the Blackhawks losing in the playoffs this year, that fucking sucked. Mom and Dad and Charlie and David all miss you too. I finally went back home to see them. It still wasn’t the same without you there, but I know you don’t hurt anymore. I hope that you don’t hurt anymore. I love you, Patrick. Crack open a cold one up there for me, okay?” Trying your best to not to uncontrollably sob, you sniffled, wiping the tears running down your face as you leaned your head against Javi’s chest. He ran his hand along your back as he held you tighter, letting you take a moment to get everything out before you took a deep breath, nodding your head as if to signify to Javi and yourself that you were okay.
“You okay, Osita? We can take all the time you need, baby.” Javi whispered, pressing a gentle kiss into your shoulder.
“No, I’m okay. I just- I wanted to do something for him, too. Thanks, Javi. I love you.”
“I know.”
After several more long hugs goodbye with Chucho, you and Javi began your journey back home, marveling at the beautiful sunset, painting the sky with bright pinks and oranges and the warmth and comfort of Lucia and Patrick’s presence. You were so lost in thought staring out at the fading sky, you hadn’t even noticed that Javi had detoured from your usual route home until he had said something to you. “You okay if we make a quick pit stop on the way home, Osita?” You nodded, smiling at the golden glow covering his face. It wasn’t long until you were veering off the main road, Javi turning to make his way down a tree lined gravel pathway with a “For Sale” sign posted in front of it.
“For sale?” You questioned, looking over at Javi before peering out your window to watch the trees lining the path pass by you as the gravel crunched under the truck’s tires.
“Yeah, uh- I was talking with Steve at the party yesterday and he- uh, one of his buddies said he was looking to get out of the city- wanted a plot of land to build on. Said he had heard good things about Laredo but didn’t have time to go check things out for himself, so I told him I would go take a look around and let Steve know what I thought.” Javi replied, trying his best to sound nonchalant as you shrugged before looking back out the window. As you reached the end of the path, the trees opened to reveal a beautiful, lush green field, the sun setting perfectly along the rolling hills of the horizon in front of you. Turning off the ignition, Javi gestured for the both of you to get out of the truck so you could go take a look around.
“Jav… This is beautiful.” You marveld, grinning as you took in the beauty of the open space drenched in golden sunset.
“You like it?” Javi grinned, laughing as you spun around, the gentle breeze blowing your hair in and out of your face.
“Oh my God, yeah. Tell Steve’s friend to get on this place ASAP before I scrounge up every penny I have and sell one of my kidneys on the black market to buy it from him. There doesn’t even need to be a house, I’ll just lay in the empty field, perfectly content.” You giggled, letting out a happy sigh as you grabbed Javi’s hand, leaning your head against his arm as you admired the sun slipping away below the horizon.
“I’ll take that as a yes then. He said he’s wanting to build a house here, do you think- do you think that he would think it’s got enough space? It’s not too far from everything? I know it’s a little farther from downtown and a longer drive to work- if uh, if he works by where we do, you don’t think that’d be a problem? For him?” Javi squeezed back, trying his best not to stumble over his words.
“Are you kidding me? It’s literally perfect out here, Javi. Could you imagine getting to see this every night? He better put some big windows on this house so he can get all of the sunlight, oh my god, it would be so pretty. It’s not even that far from everything, and the view makes the extra drive time worth every minute. I know it’s probably a far way off, and we haven’t really talked about it, but I would love to live at a place like this someday.”
Javi smiled to himself, looking down at you as you rested against him, soaking in every ounce of you as he shifted his arm to wrap around your waist, gently rubbing his thumb along the soft hem of your shirt before letting out a content sigh.
“Yeah. Me too.”
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pining & desperately waiting | javier peña
take the weight off his shoulders - chapter two
Chapter Summary | As much as he’s trying to keep his distance there is just something about you that Javier cannot stay away from. Drawn to you like a moth to a flame, so to speak. He's worried about you too, putting yourself in harms way for your work.
Chapter Warnings | Mutual pining, slow burn, sexual tension, flirting, mention of smoking and drinking alcohol, mention of drugs, drug deaths and the drug trade, explicit smut - masturbation (F)
Pairing | dbf!Javier Peña x F!Reader
Word Count | 3.2k
Authors Note | When I tell you I love this (specific) man, I am telling you I love him. He consumes me. Thank you to @hellishjoel for letting me scream about these two with her and helping me figure this chapter out! If you like this I would love for you to join me in my ask box for screaming and please consider reblogging to support me! If you enjoyed this, you can make a donation to my Ko-Fi if you'd like to support me that way.
I no longer use taglists. Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs to be notified of new updates.
Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi | Series Playlist
You dream of him every night for a week after that night at the bar. They’re filthy, depraved sometimes, and you always wake up, slick pooling between your thighs, fingers working furiously before your alarm goes off to try a satiate you, or at least tide you over until you can climb back into bed that night and really take your time to imagine all the ways Javier would take you apart with his fingers, with his mouth, with his….
“Are you even listening to me?”
You want to answer honestly and say no, you were busy daydreaming about getting railed by your dad’s buddy, but when you look across the table and see your boss practically glaring at you, you realise it’s probably for the best to lie a little.
“Sorry,” You mumble, picking up your pen, “Didn’t sleep well, what were you saying?”
“The fundraiser tomorrow,” She speaks, “For Dylan’s foundation, would you be okay to cover it?”
You nod, because it makes sense for it to be you. Dylan had overdosed just over a year ago – seemingly on top of things, doing well in school and incredibly bright, found slouched over on a street corner, dead from an overdose before he’d been able to leave the small town for whatever bright lights he was destined for. He was just one of a string of drug-related deaths over the past twelve months – an ‘epidemic’ as they had coined it – the town too close to Mexico to escape the trade that Javier himself had worked so hard to quell. Dylan’s parent’s had set up a small foundation after his death, hoping to help other young kids who could be lured into this stuff to have other opportunities in their lives.
“What kinda thing are you thinking?” You ask, starting to jot down notes as she speaks.
“Just some reaction from people there, why they’ve decided to come out and support, maybe try and grab one of his parents, just the usual really, and we can run a story in the following days, might help drum up some more support for them if nothing else.”
You nod, doing your usual with your notes of underlining the important parts, making notes on the kind of questions you’ll ask when you speak to people, “How many words have I got to work with?”
“I think we can give them a page,” She says, looking to her boss who nods in agreement, “So whatever you produced for last month’s story, that should be good.”
You nod, making a note of that too, and then continue to zone out for the rest of the meeting as everyone talks amongst themselves, mind going right back to Javi and what he would feel like putting his weight on you, settling between your thighs. You really needed to get a grip.
“Oh, isn’t it so nice to see such a good turn out today?” Your mom gushes, looking around at what feels like the whole of Laredo milling about a number of stalls that are selling all sorts of different things.
“Sure is good to see,” Your dad agrees, putting his hands on your shoulders to give them a squeeze, “You want us to leave you to your reporting, pumpkin?”
The nickname makes you wince a little, a moniker from your early days, before you’d filled out into your body. It was cute, but at twenty-five years of age, you do sometimes wish he’d find something else to call you.
“I shouldn’t be too long,” You turn around and smile at him, “I can come and find you in a little while.”
You wander around, introducing yourself to a few people asking them questions and jotting down notes. You’ve just finished speaking to Martina, famous throughout town for owning her own candle business, about why she’s supporting the foundation, when you step back and feel two sturdy hands holding onto your waist. You’re about to turn around and slap whoever it is for touching you, when that deep voice hits your ears.
“Careful, querida,” Javier fucking Peña, “Almost stood on my foot.”
You whip around, mainly to put a bit of distance between the two of you, because it felt like his lips had been inches from your ear. He drops one of his hands, but keeps the other ghosting at your side, maybe to keep you steady more than anything as you wobble from the speed at which you’ve turned around.
“Maybe you shouldn’t stand too close then?” You offer, making sure it comes out more playful than anything, because actually, all you really want is for his body to press against you more often.
“Fair point,” He shrugs, “Thought I recognized you so I wanted to say hi,” He finally lets that other hand drop from your waist, “So hi.” Is... Is he nervous?
You chuckle a little, “Hi,” you respond simply with a smile, “I didn’t expect to see you here,” You say honestly, this wasn’t his kind of scene before, you can’t imagine it’s any more appealing to him now, “Didn’t think it was your kind of scene.”
He rubs a hand nervously over the back of his neck, “It’s not, I’ve been made to come,” He nods his head behind him where Chucho is talking to a group of other ranchers, “Apparently I’ve got to start showing my face more.”
“Well, it’s a nice face,” your mouth speaks before your brain can catch up with what it’s saying, you inwardly cringe when you realise what you’ve said, “I mean, I’m sure people are happy to see you around.” Is all you can think to say to try and get him to forget the weird compliment.
He seems to smile, but like it had been across the table almost two weeks ago, his smile seems forced, “Just wish I could skip the bullshit about everyone being proud of me.”
“But it’s true,” You shrug, moving away from the stall with him so other people can in front of you to look, “You did really good things out there.”
He scoffs now, shaking his head a little, “You shouldn’t believe everything you read in the newspapers, querida,” He speaks, “Surely you should know that more than anyone.”
You don’t know what he’s actually trying to say, but you decide to play it light, “Are you accusing me of lying in my stories, Peña?” You say with a smirk.
“Perhaps not you,” He offers, “But I know plenty of journalists who know how to twist a story to get what they want,” He looks down at his shoes, kicking at the gravel a little, “Just don’t want you thinking I’m something I’m not.”
“Been gone a long time,” You muse, “You might have to spend some time reminding me who you are.”
It’s flirting the lines of maybe being too much you think, but you’ve not said anything that’s not true. He has been gone a long time, and if what he’s said is anything to go by, he will have to remind you of who he is or show you how he’s changed.
“Not sure you’d like who I am now very much, querida.” He says simply.
You’re about to open your mouth to respond, tell him you’re pretty sure that wouldn’t be true and that there isn’t a thing he could do on this earth that would make you think he was a bad person, but before you can, Chucho is coming up behind him, a firm hand on his shoulder.
“Ah, mija,” He smiles at you, “You here alone?”
“Hey Chucho,” You greet with a smile, “Mom and dad are around somewhere, I’m just here working on a story.” You hold up your notepad and pen.
“Let’s see if we can’t find them, huh Javi?” Chucho muses to his son, “Get you a nice cold lemonade for when you’re finished?” He motions to the blazing sun and then back to you.
“Sounds lovely, thank you,” You motion over their shoulder to where Dylan’s parents are stood, “I just need to speak to them, and I’ll come and find you.”
Javi doesn’t say goodbye, just follows closely behind Chucho as they disappear into the crowds, leaving you to wander over to Dylan’s parents. They’re not strangers to the paper, your boss had written a story with them not long after Dylan’s funeral, trying to spread awareness as to just how deep the drug problem ran in town. The Laredo Morning Times had always been supportive to them, so you didn’t feel the same anxiety you normally did when gathering information for stories, cold calling or knocking on doors trying to introduce yourself before doors are swiftly shut in your face or phones are hung up with a ‘no comment’.
They’re warm with you as you speak to them, thanking you for coming, thanking the paper for agreeing to cover the event, they even smile, which for a pair who lost their only son in such a horrible way still shocks you for some reason. Their loss hasn’t defined them, only made them stronger, made them determined to stop their pain from happening to anyone else. You make a note to write something equally as poetic in your article.
The crowds are thinning out a little as the midday sun does its worst. You can feel beads of sweat gathering behind our knees and you curse the fact you hadn’t remembered your hat. You can feel the heat prickling your skin as you spot your parents, sitting on a picnic bench with Javi and Chucho sat opposite them. When you’re close enough to the table, you can see everyone has plastic cups full of lemonade, but there’s one, put in front of the spare spot on the bench next to Javi, that is pink in colour instead of the cloudy yellow of everyone else’s.
“You get everything you need?” Your dad asks, as you try and fight your legs over the bench in the most graceful way possible.
“Yeah,” You nod, “Think it’ll make a great piece, Dylan’s parents seem really positive about it all,” You pick up the cup and take a sip, pink lemonade, your favourite, “Thanks for this.” You nod in the direction of your dad.
“Don’t thank me, Javi got these,” He smiles, “Remembered you preferred pink lemonade and everything.”
It actually makes your heart swell in your chest. He was always thoughtful, even before he left. Observant almost to a fault. But even after all these years, all of his stress, everything he’s seen, he still knows you well enough to know you prefer the sweeter pink lemonade. You turn your head to him to find him already looking at you with a little smile on his face.
“Thank you.” You say quietly, sipping through the straw.
“You’re welcome, dulzura.”
Javier Peña is doing a piss poor job of staying away from you, even by his standards. He lasted less than a week before he was waltzing over to you, hands on your waist, buying you pink lemonade because he knows you prefer it. There hasn’t been a night where he hasn’t wrapped his fist around his cock and made himself cum over the thought of you. He finds it easier to drop off to sleep once he’s done it, but his nights are still fitful, full of nightmares, tossing and turning, waking up to sweat soaked sheets and a heaving chest. He wonders briefly, when he lies awake watching the dawn arrive through his curtains, whether your body next to him would ease his nightmares? But then he thinks what if it doesn’t. What if you have to wake up, look at him with those innocent doe eyes and see him for what he really is? No, he can’t let his darkness cloud you, you don’t deserve that, you deserve someone that going to be gentle with you, someone softer, not him with all his jagged edges.
He's currently sitting in his truck, just outside of the liquor store, contemplating how badly he wants that packet of cigarettes and the bottle of whiskey he’d driven out to buy. He’d done alright so far, chewing on his Nicorette gum, but his fingers are itching for the familiarity of a cigarette between his fingers, and he’d finished the bottle of whiskey last night.
Then, almost like he’s being punished by God, which would make sense really, all things considered, you’re in his eyeline, walking down the street with a woman who is a little older than you, with your notepad and pen clutched in your hand. It’s late and he wonders where you must be going to report at such a late hour, and then he worries, because in his experience, nothing good happens after dark that worth making the newspapers. As the two of you approach him, he leans further out of his open window, holding his arm out to catch your attention.
“Hey Javi,” You smile, coming to a stop in front of his window, “What are you doing in town?”
“Just picking a few things up,” He answers simply, because this isn’t about him, he needs to know where you’re going, “Where are you going this late?”
You turn to the older woman you’re with, tell her to go on ahead and you’ll catch her up, “There’s been some kind of drugs bust a few streets over,” You explain, “Sounds like it might be quite big so we’re just going down to see what’s happening.”
“Your dad working it?” He asks, because if he is, he knows you’ll be okay.
You shake your head, “Nah, he’s not on nights right now,” You’re shifting back and forth on your feet, clearly itching to get going, “I’ll be alright though, sounds like plenty of dad’s officers are down there.”
He turns his head back to the steering wheel and then back to you, “Be careful, alright?”
You smile at him again and if he’s not careful, he really could get used to being the person who draws that from you more often, “I know what I’m doing,” You chuckle slightly, and he doesn’t doubt it, not really, “Been covering this kinda shit for a while.”
Without really thinking about it, he leans over, roots around in the glovebox and pulls out the little card he knows that’s in there. He passes it over to you, letting you take it, “It’s got my number on it,” He explains, “I’ve been in this shit and I just…” He trails off with a sigh, “Just, call me before you write something that might get you in trouble, okay?”
“Worried about me, Peña?” You smirk, and he thinks above your smile, he’d like to make you smirk more too.
“I’ve just seen too many good journalists write things that ruin their careers,” He shrugs, trying to play it off but probably doing a terrible job of it, “Don’t want you to make the same mistake.”
He watches as you turn the card over in your fingers a few times, before smiling at him one last time, “I’ll call you if need you.” And he really hopes you do.
In that moment, he gives up on trying to resist the call of the liquor store, pulling out his keys from the ignition and opening his door, climbing down onto the pavement. He stalls a little, before he puts a hand on your shoulder and gives it a squeeze, “Go and get your story, reporter.” And then motions his head for you to go.
He buys a bottle of whiskey and two packs of cigarettes, smokes two of them before he gets home. He thinks if he were a stronger man he’d have managed to quit, but he’s not, especially when it comes to you. Sure, he knew you before, but this new you? He’s known less than a month and he’s already struggling to stick to his own rules. He steps down from his truck back on the ranch, walks in and pours himself a healthy double, trying to convince himself it’ll be okay, he just needs to keep to himself, but when he’s led in bed at night, thinking of your sweet smile, he thinks this might just be another thing he fails at.
It’s late. Too late for you to be awake when you have to be at the office in the morning, but you can’t stop looking at the series of numbers, printed on the little card, underneath the words ‘Javier Peña, DEA.’ It’s out of date, clearly, the DEA nothing more than a memory to him. But it’s the principle of it that matters most. He’s worried about you, and he would only worry if he cared right?
You set it on your nightstand, switch off the little lamp and plunge yourself into darkness, right at the same time as you plunge your hand under your sleep shorts and through your folds. You’re soaked, because you always are when you think about him, it’s actually sort of pathetic. You sink two fingers into yourself, only briefly, letting out a satisfied breath, dragging your slick fingers back you to slowly circle your clit.
It's new, the way you always need to take care of yourself. The brief relationship you’d had in college with James hadn’t given you much to work with, you hadn’t really felt desperation to get yourself off like this before.
Your other hand, currently running over your peaked nipples through your tank top, is itching to reach across to your nightstand, pick up the phone and dial that number. You want to breathe down the phone at him, tell him you’re being so bad, that you need him to help, need that deep voice to guide you through it. As you press your fingers harder into your clit, speeding up your circles and bucking your hips, you wonder what he’d actually do if you did call him. Would he tell you to get lost? You don’t think he would, you think he’d do exactly as you asked, talk you through it.��
You imagine his voice in your ear, telling you how good you’re being for him. You imagine his hand replacing your own, sinking his fingers into you, using his thumb to work your clit, the rough of his moustache running over the skin of your neck as he kisses you there. It’s the image of him looking down at you, smiling as he makes you cum that tips you over the edge. That flood of relief that rushes through you as you bite down on your bottom lip to keep you from whispering his name as your body shakes through your orgasm.
You wipe your slick fingers on the skin of your thigh, roll over in bed so your back is to the phone, trying to get your breathing under control. You drag the covers up under your chin, closing your eyes and trying to sleep without imagining his strong arm around your waist, his broad chest against your back. Does he snore? You wonder as you try and fall asleep. Would he keep you warm? It’s all running through your head as you sleep, conjuring up dreams that come morning have you realizing something has to give, you have to know, you have to have him. You needed Javier Peña more than the air you breathe, no matter how bad it was to admit that, no matter what it meant, no matter what it would cost, you needed him and you think to yourself as you drive to work, that he might just need you as much as you need him.
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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.
#narcos#pedro pascal#narcos fanfiction#Javier Pena#javier peña#javi peña#javi pena#javier pena x reader#javi pena x reader#javier pena x you#javi pena x you#javi pena x ofc#javier pena x ofc#my fanfiction#javi pena fanfiction#javier pena fanfiction#javi pena smut#javier pena smut#tagging fics is a stressful#i suck at it
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Learning to Live Part 20
summary: Javier has a shitty first day at his new job—thankfully, you thought ahead and planned some surprises that will turn it all around.
rating: E (18+! No y/n, age gap (around 10 years), Soft Javier Peña, alternating pov, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, (massive) breeding kink, sneaking around (secretly fucking in a house full of people), dirty talk, spanking, praise kink, domestic fluff, family fluff, family bonding, PTSD (panic attack), food as a metaphor for love, emotional hurt/comfort, hanging out with Chucho and fam, Javier in love, Javier saying very romantic things in Spanish, Javier holding a baby, baby fever)
pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader
a/n: Hello there! This is a very important chapter that I literally hammered out in less than two weeks (I don’t know how I did it). We meet some new characters, and there’s a lot of Chucho content. It’s also very plot heavy. Thank you to the love of my life @juletheghoul for betaing. You're the best!
word count: 22k (this is who I am)
Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!
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The Webb County Sheriff’s Office was located in the heart of downtown Laredo, a hulking two-story building with a tan stucco exterior and grey metal lettering on the front declaring, ‘Sheriff’s Office.’ Their jurisdiction spanned over three thousand miles and was the largest in southern Texas—whereas the Laredo Police Department only handled the town itself.
Javier had opinions about the local police.
None of them were good, seeing as the department’s Chief for the last twenty-something years has been Lorraine’s other uncle.
If it seemed like her family was everywhere, that was because they fucking were.
Her father’s side, the Smiths, have lived in the area going back generations and were the wealthiest family in Laredo, all thanks to the large transportation company her great-grandfather started back in the early 1900s. Their family made a name for themselves and were known for their philanthropy and pursuits to better the town—at least, that was true before her father took over the company from her grandfather and used all of the good his predecessors had done as a means to run for Mayor, making what turned out to be empty promises after he was elected.
He wasn’t the worst Mayor in Laredo’s history, but he wasn’t the best, either.
The philanthropic endeavors decreased when the business was handed over to her dad, who was more concerned with filling the family’s pockets, yet they still remained the town’s biggest benefactor and were held in somewhat high regard. The Smiths were well known, and two out of his three brothers had notable careers in town: one was the Chief of police, another had been a judge down at the courthouse before he was nominated by President George H. W. Bush to work on the federal level, and then, of course, there was Javier’s former barber.
Lorraine also had siblings and a hell of a lot of cousins who still lived in Laredo, so her family was fucking everywhere, much to his annoyance. He did his best to avoid them at all costs, especially if Cielito was with him. Javier was pretty sure there would be a physical altercation if she saw his ex, which made him smile, but it also meant he had to be on high alert when they were out and about. He was proud of how good he’d gotten at distracting her to keep them from crossing paths, usually feigning interest in a nearby store or restaurant. There was also the time they hadn’t even left his truck yet, and he’d spotted Lorraine down the street, so he kissed his girlfriend and made out with her for a solid five minutes to make sure the coast was clear—that one was his favorite.
Thankfully, none of the Smiths worked for the Sheriff.
There were five minutes to spare when he arrived at the office downtown, spending the first hour with the only Human Resources employee, Juana, a lovely older woman, half his size who kept calling him ‘Guapo (Handsome)’ and trying to wheedle his mom’s tamale recipe out of him. He’d filled out all of the necessary paperwork, frowning when he had to mark ‘Single’ on many of the forms. He got his picture taken and badge made, Juana commenting it was ‘Guapísimo (Very handsome),’ and he couldn’t wait to show Cielito to see her reaction, wearing it around his neck on a black lanyard. Then the older woman gave him a tour of the building, the only places of interest to him being the supply room, conference room, records room, evidence room, and where the nearest pot of coffee was located to his new office, which was their final stop.
Most of the people who worked here, he either knew or knew of, and they were all very aware of who he was if the looks and whispers he ignored were anything to go by.
His office wasn’t anything special and didn’t compare in the slightest to what he’d had in Colombia. It was small, with room enough for a cherry wood L-shaped desk against one wall, his desk chair putting the door in his line of sight, two chairs in front of it, and two bookcases behind it on either side of the window that had a breathtaking view of the parking lot. A computer was atop the reddish-brown hardwood, the bulky thing situated against the wall. A typewriter, which was more his speed, was on the other side near the edge, and a landline office phone between them in the corner. Aside from those three things, everything else was bare and empty—his plan was to raid the supply room, which could more accurately be described as a closet, for all the shit he needed.
He was standing just inside the door and finally alone, shuffling the stuff in his hands to free one up to grab the door handle and pull it forward to look at the other side, smiling when he saw there was a lock. Making his way around the desk, he set the things in his hand down on top of it, pulling out the chair and taking a seat.
The first item did not belong to him, and he’d never be caught dead with it, which was a fucking lie since it was sitting on his desk—The Empire Strikes Back Metal Lunch box was blue with art of Han, Leia, Chewie, and C-3PO in the Millennium Falcon cockpit, and did belong to his girlfriend, who’d packed his lunch the night before. She realized they hadn’t gotten him a lunch bag of his own, so she handed him this fucking thing at the door, giving him a kiss and a smack to the ass, telling him to have a good day.
He moved it off the desk and down behind it on the floor where it wouldn’t be seen.
The other two items were small black-bordered picture frames, setting the first one up: a picture of him and Cielito in his dad’s backyard, her standing in front of him with his arms wrapped around her chest, her hands holding them to her, his head beside hers as they smiled at the camera, the happiness clear on their faces. He put the second one next to it that had a Polaroid he’d taken while they made dinner one night in their kitchen of her grinning brightly at the camera and looking unbelievably adorable in his Fleetwood Mac shirt.
They made him smile, his mind going back to that morning and how fucking good it was. He sighed softly, touching the knot around his throat. He loved having her watch and help him get ready, then seeing how much it turned her on when he was dressed, wishing every morning was like that—the woman he loved choosing his outfit and keeping him company. They usually got dressed together, sometimes even asking each other opinions on what to wear, but it had never been like today. He wanted to look good for her, he wanted to wear what she wanted, he wanted to do something so simple to make her happy.
Then there were the things she did to him that had his slacks suddenly feeling a bit tight.
Javier felt like such a dick for arguing with her. He doesn’t know what came over him except that he didn’t think it was fair that only he was getting off—which was dumb because they both had times when they just wanted to pleasure the other without getting anything in return.
Fuck, her mouth, her tits. He looked at the Polaroid and her breasts under his shirt. She was so fucking beautiful between his knees, fucking him with them and letting him come all over her chest. Coming inside her was his favorite, but seeing her painted in his spend was a close second… Unless he could finish in her ass. His brain shortcircuited for a second, imagining how fucking tight she’d be while he filled her, and if she orgasmed at the same time, she’d tense up and squeeze his dic—
There was a low whistle from the door, a familiar deep voice saying, “Te tiene loco esa muchacha, se te sale la baba (That girl’s got you going crazy, you’re drooling).”
Javier frowned, his cheeks heating, clearing his throat as he looked at the older man standing in the doorway. He didn’t get up from his chair since his cock was at half-mast, confirming he was, in fact, crazy about her.
The newcomer had a similar build to his dad, the short cropped hair on his head and around his mouth grey with age, wearing the Webb County Sheriff Department uniform of a khaki short sleeve button up and army green pants with a yellow stripe down the sides, the golden Sheriff star badge pinned to his chest, glittering in the lights.
Unrelated to him, Sheriff Arturo López was about his age when he was elected into office back in the 70s. He was the county’s longest-serving Sheriff, and for good reason: he was an honorable man. Javier was very aware of this because he’s known him his whole life; Arturo was a good friend of his father’s.
“You’re as annoying as Pop,” he grumbled, straightening in his seat. “He’s told you about her?”
The other man’s face lit up, walking into the room to stand behind one of the chairs in front of the desk, resting both hands on the back.
“Talks about her and you—” His finger was directed at Javier. “—all the damn time. When I went out to the ranch last week, he showed me all of the pictures he took last month on his birthday with that fancy new camera you got him.”
He and Cielito had celebrated with his dad by barbecuing at the ranch. Daphne and Velma were in attendance; the two calves he’d practically raised, whom they affectionately called their bovine children, were given apples as treats, happily lying in the sun or chewing on the grass with their humans nearby. Chucho loved Cielito’s cooking almost as much as Javier did and had requested a peach pie for his birthday, which she, of course, made for him, much to his delight—he wouldn’t shut up about how much he loved it, and that was completely understandable, it was a really fucking good pie; so good, in fact, that Javier had stolen an extra piece before they’d left for the night. The picture of them on his desk was from that day, Cielito looking beautiful in a lavender-colored dress that he’d managed to match his button-up to—his eyes went back to it, thinking they looked so good together.
Perfect.
“¿Me oyes o que (Can you hear me or what)?” Arturo said a little louder, snapping his fingers to get his attention. Javier immediately looked up at him, seeing the other man was amused.
“Shit, sorry,” Javier replied, running a hand through his hair.
Arturo chuckled. “Tu papá tenía razón (Your dad was right). Estás arrebatado (You’re completely enraptured).” He slid a chair out and sat down, kicking his feet up on the desk’s edge.
His jaw ticked, annoyance creeping up on him, saying, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ve got it bad—are you here to give me shit about it, or are we going to discuss the scope of this job you’ve been on my ass about since I got back?”
The other man huffed out a breath, his face going serious, putting his hands up in a placating gesture. “Your dad also said you get very defensive about it—tu novia (your girlfriend) is off limits. I read you loud and clear.” He put his feet down, sitting up in his seat, his eyes on Javier’s. “Remember when I offered you a job when you graduated from A&M?” he asked.
Javier did—it was his backup plan if swimming hadn’t panned out. He’d wanted to get into law enforcement, and it would’ve been a good start, but then Lorraine fucked that up for him, too, since he had to get the hell out of Laredo.
“Yeah?” he answered.
“I saw your potential all those years ago—determination in your eyes to do something good and look at what you did in South America.”
Javier scoffed.
A crease appeared between the Sheriff’s eyes. “You know you’re a hero, right?” he asked.
Javier’s elbows were on the desk, his fingers laced in front of him. “I’m no hero.” He shook his head. “I just did my fucking job, and that’s it. Not like any of it mattered, anyway—the war on drugs will never fucking end.”
“On a large scale? No, there will always be drug trafficking, but things can be done here at home to crack down on it and keep our community safe.”
His eyebrow rose. “That’s why you need me?”
The older man smiled. “Partially.” He shrugged. “I’m sure you’re aware of the drug smuggling problems we’re having here in Laredo?”
He nodded.
Arturo continued, “We know it’s coming into Laredo and then being distributed out to the bigger cities—we’ve got a whole narcotics unit, and they’ve done some decent busts throughout the county, but things can turn violent quick. You know how it is, people have drugs—”
“They’ll have weapons,” he cut him off, nodding.
They have to protect their cargo.
“Well, our current strategies aren’t making much difference, and even with some wins, it’s not enough. You personally took out the Colombians, and with them gone, the Mexican cartels have been taking advantage, and things have gotten bad, and that’s why I needed you to take this job. I need a new set of eyes. I need your expertise.” He pointed at Javier. “I need you to make sure we’re not overlooking anything. I want you to work with the team and make a better plan of attack. Have you kept up on the Mexican cartels?”
He has. Steve still works for the DEA in Florida and updates him about the goings on in South America and Mexico on their weekly calls.
“Yeah.”
“Good, we know they’re supplying.”
“Of course they are. So, you want me to look over the situation here, consult, and help plan? Can I meet the head of the narcotics unit?”
“You’re the head of the narcotics unit.”
His eyes widened, taken aback. “...what?”
That definitely wasn’t in the job description—he was supposed to be here for informational purposes only, training people, consulting, not running a team. He promised Cielito this would be an office job, and he absolutely would not go back on his word to her; he’d quit first and work somewhere else; hell, his alma mater, had put out feelers on if he’d like to teach. Anger was bubbling in his belly that this was turning out to be a fucking bait and switch, the Sheriff putting way more responsibility on him than he agreed to.
His face pinched in anger, glaring at the other man, his voice low, menacing, not brokering any room for argument, “When you pitched me this job, you said I’d be consulting, bringing in my knowledge and training people, shit like that. I didn’t sign up to head a fucking unit. I promised my girl this job would be nothing like the fucking DEA.”
“Cálmate (Calm down), Javi, it isn’t.” The Sheriff waved away his concern. “I’m sorry for springing it on you like this. I thought you’d like to be in charge since you wanted a desk job, and that’s what it is, a desk job—you’ll never see any action. You don’t even need a gun. You’ve got a lot of experience we could benefit from, so it makes sense you’d be the best person to lead and advise them. You’d help them do their jobs better.”
Javier had the upper hand here—the other man needed him more than he needed this job.
His eyes narrowed. “I don’t want the fucking responsibility of running a team—if that’s the case, I’m walking out that fucking door.” He jutted his finger toward it.
Arturo frowned, sighing deeply as he crossed his arms over his chest.
“Fine,” he said. “We’ll forget the title. I’ll assign one of the other guys as the leader. You’ll consult—look into the situation here, help train, and plan. Is that better?”
“Yes.” He nodded. “I am not in charge of them, is that understood?”
The other man sighed again. “Yes, Javi. You’re not in charge—no responsibility for them.” He leaned forward, offering his hand. “Do we have a deal?”
“Yeah,” he replied, shaking the offered palm.
“Good,” the Sheriff said. “Welcome aboard.” He got up from his chair. “The team is scheduled to meet with you at one in the conference room for introductions—they’re expecting you.” He was walking toward the door, stopping before he exited to look at Javier over his shoulder. “There’s one other part of your job I forgot to mention.”
Javier let out a loud breath, feeling beyond annoyed. “What’s that?”
“You’ll be the point of contact for the DEA when they come knocking—I’ve got Southern Texas’ largest county to worry about. I don’t have time for their bullshit.”
He scoffed. “You’re joking.”
“I’m serious. I’m glad you’re here, Javi. Thank you for doing this,” he said as he left the room.
“Fuck,” Javier breathed, pressing his face into his hands.
Did he make a fucking mistake taking this job? He felt like he’d bit off way more than he could chew. He was starting to get a headache, reminding himself that this wouldn’t be anything like the DEA; he wasn’t going after cartels, he wasn’t having to put his life at risk, he was keeping his promise to Cielito, and that was all that fucking mattered.
Thinking of her, he remembered the day before when they were eating breakfast, hearing her voice clear in his mind saying, ‘...since you love challenges, you should dig into a problem…’
Find a problem to solve.
What was going on in Mexico wasn’t his problem; that was for the feds to worry about; what was a big fucking problem to him were drugs somehow making it past heavy border patrol and DEA intervention, but could he solve it?
The woman he loved was into that astrology shit, and the stars, or whatever the fuck, seemed to want him to.
Jesus Christ, was he really taking advice from something somebody probably pulled out of their ass?
He thought about it more rationally.
Laredo was his home, even if he wanted to leave it with his girlfriend most of the time. He had Cielito and his dad here; one day, they’d have children. Did he want to bring their kids into a world where there was a possibility of danger? He was remembering Colombia and the horrible shit he’d seen when drug busts went sideways, and innocent people got caught in the crossfire. What if Cielito was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and something happened to her? His memories of South America were fueling the worst-case scenarios playing out in his head of things that could happen to her or their future kids, his heart starting to pound in his chest, dread feeling like lead in the pit of his stomach.
He was beginning to panic as he thought of the potential consequences if he didn’t do this. He needed to keep his family safe; he had to make sure their home was safe, needing to protect his future wife and their future children.
What if I fail to protect them like I failed others before?
His breaths were coming out quick, the room suddenly going dark around the edges, it feeling stifling—he couldn’t breathe.
With it being the beginning of August in Southern Texas, it was barely ten a.m. and already scorching hot outside.
After sending Javi off to work with the coolest lunch box that he sighed really loudly at taking, a kiss and a smack to his ass, you’d showered, putting on some black bicycle shorts and the white t-shirt you’d gotten at a Prince concert the year prior. It had his symbol on the front with ‘The “Jam of the Year” World Tour 97/98.’ written on it, wanting to wear comfortable clothes since you’d be cooking all day—something that required you to leave your apartment.
But not to go to a store… yet.
The air conditioning was turned up as high as it would go in your car, Salt-N-Pepa playing loudly over the whirring of it as you drove down the road.
Ringing sounded in the passenger seat from the cell phone in your purse Javi got you when he moved in; you hadn’t wanted it, but the man worried about you getting stranded on the side of the road, or having an emergency, so to mollify him you’d accepted it.
Your eyes stayed on the road as you reached into your bag, fumbling around until you found the hard plastic Nokia phone that seemed practically indestructible. Pulling it out, you turned down the radio, the screen on the cellphone glowing green showing Javi was calling—which was a surprise, immediately hitting the answer button.
“Hey, babe!” you greeted, driving one-handed.
“Talk to me,” he said between heavy breaths, sounding like he’d been running.
It made you frown, worry curling in your gut that something was wrong.
“Javi, what’s going on?”
“Talk, please.” There was desperation in his tone, understanding he needed you to calm him down.
“Okay, um, gosh, I am so sorry for this stream of consciousness, it’s going to be unfiltered, just straight brain to mouth,” you rambled. “I’m driving right now and wearing those tight, stretchy shorts that I swear to fucking god are a magnet for your hands—you know the ones. Like, you smack my ass so much in these that I know if I’m within reach of you, I’m getting spanked—which, I’m only telling you this because you’re, you know, but I love when you do it so much—I love you, too, a lot, an insane amount, and I can’t wait to see you, so I can give you a big hug and smother your face in kisses—just smooches all over that sexy mug of yours. Um, I hope you’ll like the dinner I’m making—it’s gonna test my skills, and I’m excited to attempt it; hopefully, it’ll be edible.”
His breaths were beginning to even out, continuing to speak your thoughts, “I’m super worried about you right now since you’re calling me before your lunch and needing me to talk. So, just focus on my voice, baby—you’re gonna get through this. Breathe, you’re okay, and it’s gonna pass—everything is okay. Um, fuck, what else can I talk about, oh! I really liked that movie we rented Friday before last—the one with Harrison Ford? It was honestly so on point that the woman fell in love with him while stranded on that deserted island—how could you not fall in love with Pilot Harrison Ford? Which, I mean I wouldn’t—” you added quickly. “—I’ve already got a hunky, grumpy man I’m disgustingly in love with, thank you very much, and Harrison Ford can kick rocks—you’re my hunky, grumpy man, I’m disgustingly in love with if that wasn’t clear, and if I got stranded somewhere I know you’d find me—I don’t know how you’d do it, but you would. I know I said it already, but I love you, Javi—I love you so much sometimes I feel like I’m going to combust—”
“I love you, too,” his voice was barely above a whisper.
“There you are,” you replied, smiling in relief at hearing him. “Feel better?”
“Yes.” He audibly swallowed. “Sorry for bothering you.”
“You’re not bothering me, and you’d never bother me, Javi. I love you.”
“I love you, too—I fucking knew you wear those shorts on purpose.” The smile was evident in his voice.
You giggled. “Kinda. They’re just really comfy.”
“Uh-huh, right. I’m also happy to be your hunky, grumpy man you’re disgustingly in love with.”
“Good, ‘cause you are.” The reason he called had you sobering up, asking, “Javi, do you want to talk about what happened?”
He sighed. “The, uh, smuggling problem is worse than I thought, and I started thinking about if something happened to you or our kids, and it, uh—”
“Triggered a panic attack,” you finished for him. “Javi,” you said softly. “It’s your first day, and you already had a panic attack. Are you sure you should be doing this job?”
“I promise, I’m okay—it won’t happen again.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I know,” he sighed again.
“You can quit and go back to work with your dad on the ranch while you look for another job that won’t be so triggering.”
“I know… But I want to do this.”
A frown was on your face again. When he told you he’d gotten a job with the Sheriff, you’d been worried it’d make him miserable and lead to him resenting you. He was adamant that wouldn’t happen, and his new work wouldn’t be anything like the DEA, promising you it was just an office job, but with this phone call, your worries were back. He’d been there—you glanced at the clock on your radio—two hours, and he’d already had a panic attack—it didn’t bode well that his PTSD was acting up. Then there was the determination in his tone, hearing how he felt like this was something he had to do, and it made you feel uneasy.
“Okay,” you replied. If this was what he wanted, you wouldn’t fight him on it. “But if this happens again, you call me.”
“I will.”
“Promise me, Javier—don’t hide it from me.”
“I promise, Cielito. I won’t keep it from you.”
“Thank you. Now, do you need me to come down there right now? It’d take me like twenty minutes.”
“No, baby.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’m okay.”
“Alright. How’s your first day so far?”
“The woman from HR kept calling me guapo, but I think she was just saying it to get mi mamá’s tamale recipe.”
You snorted. “Eres guapísimo (You’re very handsome). ¿Ella tuvo éxito (Did she succeed)?”
He chuckled. “No, Cielito. No se lo diré a nadie excepto a ti (I won’t tell anyone except you).”
“I don’t know why, but that’s very romantic, and I’m touched.”
“Ella hubiera querido que lo tuvieras (She would’ve wanted you to have it).”
You were smiling big.
“You have no idea how happy that makes me.”
“I should probably get back to work.” He sounded like he didn’t want to get off the phone.
“Wait, promise me, Javier, if this job gets to be too much or you feel yourself slipping back to how you were before, you’ll quit. Promise me.”
“I promise, Cielito—I pinky promise.”
“I’ll hold you to it. I love you. Call me on your lunch.”
“I love you, too, and I will.”
Goodbyes were said, the call ending, tossing the phone back into the passenger seat.
Chewing on your lip, your brain was stuck on Javi as you drove.
You really fucking hoped he’d be okay, but your boyfriend was stubborn, and when he put his mind to something, he didn’t let anything get in his way—including himself. It was one of his flaws, yet also a strength, that made him good at his job.
Colombia was a looming shadow, always following him around, and he still hadn’t shed a light on it for you. You knew the overview of his time there—he’d worked with Steve to help take down Pablo Escobar, but he’d fucked up and was sent home before they’d gotten the fucker; A lot of his informants were prostitutes that he’d slept with; He was sent back a second time and was put in charge, working his ass off to take down the Cali Cartel, and once he finished, he’d resigned from the DEA—and now he’d found another thing to put his mind to, and you were worried it would consume him.
You wouldn’t let him fall back into old habits and would talk to him and lay down some ground rules, the first being work stayed at work—when he came home, it was time for him to relax and forget about the day. It was what you did; it was how you survived being a busy emergency room nurse in a hospital in Dallas, where there was so much death. Once you clocked out for the day, your shift was over, and your worries over work ceased until you clocked back in for your next shift. There was no dwelling on things when you’d go home. If you did, you would’ve been miserable and the job much more difficult. You knew it would be really fucking hard for Javi to do, but you were determined to make sure he didn’t revert back to the miserable, depressed man he’d been in Colombia.
It wasn’t going to happen. Not if you had any say.
Your mind had been so preoccupied you suddenly found yourself at your destination, pulling into Chucho’s driveway, the gravel crunching under your tires, seeing him sitting in one of the two white rocking chairs on the porch, waiting for you with a big smile on his face. Pulling off to the side in front of the house and parking, you shoved your cell phone back into your purse, grabbing it and the little notebook from the passenger seat, and getting out, walking along the stone path in front of Javi’s mom’s beautiful flower garden, her husband still tended to.
“Buenos días, Mija (Good morning, Mija),” the older man greeted as he got up from his seat in jeans, a white short-sleeve button-up, and cowboy boots to hug you when you made it up the few stairs.
Smiling as you hugged him back, you replied, “Buenos días, Chucho.”
He let go of you, meeting your eyes with a happy grin. “The house smells amazing,” he said, moving over to the screen door, the springs screeching as he opened it for you, making your way inside the house.
“I hope it turned out amazing.” You were hit with the smell of cooking meat permeating in the air, heading toward the kitchen, the older man following you with the screen door slamming shut behind him.
“I’m sure it did.”
It warmed your heart how much faith he had in you, setting your purse and notebook down on the kitchen table to go look in the Crock Pot and finding the pork you put in it the night before was done. Turning it off, you smiled, seeing that Chucho had already set out a giant bowl and tongs for you to use. Grabbing the utensil, you looked over your shoulder, clicking them twice. “I see this isn’t your first rodeo—thank you,” you said.
He chuckled. “You’re welcome, Mija. It can cool while we go to the store.”
“Very true.”
Your attention moved back to the slow cooker, removing the lid and using the tongs to transfer the big pieces of meat into the bowl.
“How was your morning?” he asked.
Memories of Javi getting dressed came to you, your skin heating when you thought of the dirtier things you’d both done.
“Pretty good—your son let me choose his suit and tie,” you answered, moving another piece of pork.
“A good man.”
“The best, and we had a lovely breakfast before he went off to work.” You’d stood in the kitchen drinking coffee together, and he took a granola bar for the road. “How was yours?”
“Not bad. I made sure all of the pots and pans you’ll need are where I saw them last, and I extended the kitchen table so you have more room.”
You’d noticed it was bigger, going from being able to seat four to about six.
The last chunk of meat was put in the bowl, discarding the utensil into the sink as you said, “You are the fucking best, Chucho.”
“I’m just excited,” he laughed.
After unplugging the Crock Pot, you faced the older man. “I’m excited, too, and really fucking nervous.”
“You’re going to do great,” he reassured, making your heart clench.
“Thank you, Chucho. I really hope it’s good. Do you have aluminum foil?”
He pointed beside you. “Second drawer.”
“Thank you.” You got the foil out, tearing a piece to cover the bowl, putting it back where it belonged, and turning toward your boyfriend’s dad again.
“Okay,” you started. “So, I watched the video of Antonia’s instructions again this morning and tried to take some notes.” You put it on after Javi left, doing your best to write stuff down. Frowning, you continued, “You know I’m getting better at my Spanish, but there were some things I missed.”
He had a warm expression.
“Don’t stress, Mija. I watched and helped mi amor (my love) make her tamales so many times I’ve lost count. I may not know measurements or remember all the ingredients, but we’ve got her recipe cards we can use.” He gestured to the dining table next to him, where your things sat atop it beside a small oak wood dovetailed box that you knew when you opened the hinged lid, it contained his wife’s handwritten recipe cards.
The idea to make Javi’s mom’s famous tamales came to you while watching the home video of her explaining how they were made. You knew they were his favorite food, and wanted to make his first day at work special because, even though he acted like the job was no big deal, you still worried it’d fuck him up—which is exactly what happened, and now you were really happy he’d have your attempt at his mom’s tamales to comfort him.
There was nervousness about asking Chucho for permission. The recipe was a heavily guarded secret and something his wife was known for, and you were just some random woman dating his son. He’d been ecstatic when you called, though, telling you he’d get out Antonia’s recipe box for you to use, which was such a huge honor, you teared up.
The first time you got a chance to look inside the box was the night before when you brought over the pork to cook—the cards inside were old and some stained, able to see which ones she used the most, her recipes written out in beautiful script, all of them in Spanish and finding some she added little notes to—one for Pozole she’d crossed out radish in the ingredients, noting Javi hated them.
It was a little overwhelming knowing each one this incredible woman had touched, each one she’d made, and even though you never got a chance to meet her, it felt like you had—as odd as it was, you felt closer to her, seeing the tweaks she’d made to some recipes and completely understanding why she did them.
Antonia Peña was alive through the stories her family told, the pictures in old albums, the many home videos, and the food she’d once made that you were now getting the chance to make to honor her memory.
Smiling, you said, “Yes, we’ve got the recipe.” Walking over to the table, you picked up your notebook, looking at him. “I wrote down our grocery list in here.” You tapped the cover with your finger. “But in the video, she mentioned a secret ingredient in her red sauce. She spoke too quickly for me to understand what she was saying, and I didn’t see it listed on the recipe card…”
He held up four fingers. “Four arbol chiles. No more, no less. Four.” Your eyes went wide, grinning as you flipped open your notebook, grabbing the pen tucked between the pages. A hand covered the paper, looking at him in confusion. “You can’t write it down,” he said. “It’s a secret only Javi, and I know, and now you do, too.” He smiled.
Tears brimmed in your eyes, feeling so honored to have been told. You were careful of the notebook and pen you were holding as you threw your arms around him in a hug.
Javi said you were the only person he’d tell the recipe to, and here was his dad saying the same, feeling so unbelievably loved by this family.
“Thank you for trusting me,” you said.
He patted your back. “You’re family, Mija—mi futura nuera (my future daughter-in-law), you get to know, but you can’t tell anyone. Es un secreto (It’s a secret).”
You pulled back, nodding, “Yes, of course.” The pen was put back in the closed notebook, using your free hand to wipe at your teary eyes. “You ready to go?” you asked. “You’re my inside man on where to get the best ingredients.”
Chuckling, he replied, “I’m ready. I’ll drive. We’ll go out the back.”
Grabbing your purse, you followed Chucho down the hallway to the house's rear. The walls were bright teal with artwork of flowers Antonia had picked out, passing a guest bathroom, another hallway that led to a spare bedroom, the laundry room, and the staircase that went up to the master bedroom. He stopped at the coat hooks behind the back door to put on his straw cowboy hat and grab car keys from a row of tinier key hooks.
On your first visit to Chucho’s, you learned they didn’t lock the house during the day, so it wasn’t a surprise when you shut the door behind you, and he just kept walking. The gravel driveway fanned out behind the house where many cars and trucks were parked beside each other, knowing most belonged to Javi’s cousins and uncle, who all worked on the ranch.
It confused you when he passed his pickup, having assumed that was what you would be riding in and ending up at a smaller vehicle with a white cover over it and a dusting of dirt.
“It’s a special occasion,” he said, going to the front and beginning to pull off the covering. “So, we’ll take my baby.” Removing it as he walked toward the rear, he slowly revealed an old, red, soft-top convertible sports car in impeccable condition.
“Wow, I get to ride in the fancy car,” you replied, delighted. “This is so nice.”
The cover was set aside, Chucho unlocking the driver’s side door.
“Thank you.” He patted the top. “She’s a ‘68 Ford Mustang. Got her the year she was made.”
You went to the passenger side, looking through the glass at the black leather interior, two seats in the front, and two squished in the back, the lock disengaging with a click.
Getting in, you used the crank to lower your window, the older man starting the engine, and it roaring to life.
“I’m sure Javi had a blast riding around in this,” you said.
He was leaning to the left to press a button near the steering wheel, the top slowly moving back to open with a whine.
“Oh, he did.” Chucho smiled. “I don’t drive it much—drove it more back then than I do now. Javi would beg me to take him for rides and always was an excited little guy when I’d pick him up from school in it.” The top was completely down, and he rolled down his window, too. “But, Antonia, mi amor, was my regular passenger.” He tapped the dashboard. “Brought out the Mustang for date night.” He grinned.
“I love that so much,” you replied, putting on your seatbelt and Chucho doing the same. “Once Javi got his license, did you let him drive it?”
He put the car in reverse, his arm going to the top of your seat as he looked behind him to back out.
“Hell no,” he answered, making you laugh.
He had you both on the road heading into town in no time, the wind whipping past you, unable to stop from smiling. There wasn’t any awkwardness, feeling comfortable casually chatting with him. Chucho told you more stories about Javi and Antonia that had you laughing, having the best time with him.
There was a small lull in the conversation, and turning your head toward him, you said, “Thank you for helping me with this, Chucho. You have no idea how much I appreciate you.”
Smiling, he glanced at you. “You’re welcome, Mija, and you know, you can call me ‘Pop’ if you want,” he replied. “I already think of you as my daughter and don’t mind.”
Your eyes were watering, and it had nothing to do with the top being down.
In all the time you’ve known this man, he’s been more of a father to you than your actual biological dad. He welcomed you with open arms and was so warm and caring, able to see how much he loved his son and now you, too. It was a stark contrast to the coldness you were used to from being the family disappointment, not even sure when you last spoke to your father, thinking it was probably when you visited your family months ago.
Your mother was the one who stayed in contact with you, though her calls have become less frequent since you’d gone off on her for saying shitty things about Javi. The next time she called after the incident, you had put your foot down and threatened to go no contact if she continued to belittle and say horrible things about him. She hadn’t liked the threat but begrudgingly agreed to your terms, and you assumed the lack of phone calls was because she didn’t have anything nice to say.
Honestly, you knew her weekly calls were to make sure you weren’t bringing more shame to the family name, and it was nice not having her breathing down your neck.
You’ve never known what it was like to have such a loving parent like Chucho, and you were over the goddamn moon you had him now.
“Thank you,” you replied. “You’re a great dad, and I’m happy you’re in my life.”
“I’m happy you’re in my and my son’s lives. I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you for all you’ve done for him. I just love seeing how happy he is and those smiles. So, thank you, Mija.”
“You’re gonna make me cry!” Tears were threatening to spill.
“Don’t cry! This is a happy day.” He patted your knee. “We’re having a great time and almost there.”
La Tapatía Market was a hidden gem on the west side of town in a more residential area, inhabiting what was probably once a neighborhood grocery store back in the 1920s if the old painted brick on the outside was anything to go by. It was on a corner lot, a stone wall separating it from the homes that resided next door to it, and it wasn’t large nor tiny but a decent enough size to offer a variety of goods straight from across the border.
The market also happened to be family-owned, as you learned walking through the front door, hearing a bell jingle above it.
Entering, there was a long counter on the right where the register was, and a young man behind it, who was maybe in his thirties, his black hair buzzed short on his head, and face clean shaven, wearing dark green flannel, his attention immediately on the two of you.
“¡Hola (Hello)!” he greeted. “Me alegro de verte aquí otra vez, Don Chucho (It’s good to see you here again, Don Chucho).”
“Buenos días, Martín (Good morning, Martín),” Chucho replied, smiling. “¿Cómo están tus padres (How are your parents)? ¿Están aquí (Are they here)?”
“No, no están aquí (No, no, they’re not here).” He shook his head. “Tenían que ir a un mandado y deberían volver pronto (They had to go run an errand and should be back soon).”
“Bueno, bueno (Good, good),” he replied. “Oh, Martín, me gustaría que conocieras a mi nuera (Martín, I’d like you to meet my daughter-in-law),” he said, stepping aside and ushering you forward as he told him your name.
“Hola (Hello),” you said. “Mucho gusto (It’s nice to meet you).”
The other man’s eyes were as wide as saucers.
“¿Javier se casó (Javier got married)?” he asked.
“No, todavía no (No, not yet),” Chucho chuckled. “Pero espero que más pronto que tarde (But hopefully sooner rather than later).”
“Sí, Don Chucho (Yes, Don Chucho). Es maravilloso que haya conocido a alguien (It’s wonderful that he met someone).” His attention turned to you, smiling. “Mucho gusto (It’s nice to meet you).” Looking between you both, he asked, “¿Qué los trae por aquí hoy (What brings you here today)?”
Chucho’s arm went over your shoulders, grinning as he answered, “Ella es una cocinera increíble y está haciendo los tamales de mi esposa (She is an amazing cook and is making my wife’s tamales).”
The praise had your cheeks feeling hot, thinking it was very sweet how highly he regarded you, but it also was a tad nerve-wracking, feeling the nervous flutter in your belly.
Surprise was on Martín’s face. “Los famosos tamales de la Doña Antonia (Doña Antonia’s famous tamales)?”
“Sí,” Chucho replied excitedly, and it was honestly very adorable.
“Guau, buena suerte (Wow, good luck). Avíseme si necesita ayuda para encontrar algo (Let me know if you need help finding anything).
“Gracias, Martín (Thank you, Martín).”
“Gracias,” you also said, smiling.
Just inside the door and to the left were metal shopping carts, Chucho grabbing one while you opened your notebook, telling him the first thing on the list, and him leading you to the aisle. There were only a couple of other shoppers moseying around, your boyfriend’s dad greeting them by name when you happened across them.
The recipe from Antonia’s cards said it’d make about two dozen tamales, and you were very confused when Chucho had you get five times the ingredients on the list.
Did he want to make sure you had extra in case you fucked up? Five times seemed a bit excessive for that...
You were standing in an aisle, many different kinds of chiles in plastic bags hanging on pegs in front of you. The older man was looking at the labels with concentration etched on his brow before grabbing a bag.
“These ones,” he said, showing it to you. “How many do you need?”
“Uh, twelve chiles.”
“Okay.” He nodded, looking in the bag and counting how many chiles it had in it, then once again, he was quintupling the amount, throwing in more bags, and doing the same with the arbol chiles.
“Chucho?”
“Yes?” His attention turned to you.
“Why are we getting so much extra stuff?” You pointed at the growing pile of goods in the cart.
“So there’s enough for everyone,” he answered.
Your eyebrows furrowed.
“Who’s everyone?”
“You’re making tamales…” he said slowly.
“Yes… and that means?”
What were you missing?
“You don’t make tamales alone…”
“Yeah, you’re helping.” You gestured at him.
He smiled warmly. “Mija, you’re going to need more than just me. So, I invited people to come over and help.” He shrugged.
It felt like a record scratched in your brain.
“What people?”
“Just my sisters and some of their kids—they’re very excited to meet you.”
Well, this new bit of information did not help with your nerves at all. Now there would be more people judging your food, and your worry that you’d fuck up was running rampant. You took a deep breath. It was going to be okay. You were doing this for Javi—you needed to do this for your boyfriend, and thinking on the bright side, it will be good to have people who know how to make tamales there.
“Oh, wow, okay. I’m meeting the fam. That’s cool. I’m excited to meet them, too.”
Aside from Javi introducing you to a couple of his cousins who work at the ranch, you hadn’t met anyone else in his family—not because he was ashamed of you or didn’t want you to meet them, he was just being selfish, and hogging you all to himself. His tía María had everyone over at her house after church every Sunday for food and to catch up, and there was an open invitation for Javi and you to attend, but he preferred spending the day with you instead. It was romantic of him, but you were dying to meet the people you’d heard stories about and seen pictures of in the photo albums of him growing up.
You hoped they’d like you.
Chucho was back behind the cart, and you were beside it. He put a comforting hand on your shoulder, looking you in the eyes.
“There’s no reason to be nervous,” he said in a gentle voice you could imagine him using with the animals at the ranch. “They’ve heard all about you and are happy Javi has such a great girlfriend. They already like you.”
There was doubt in the back of your mind.
“You’re sure they like me?”
He smiled. “Oh, yeah. Rebeca had some of the peach pie you made for my birthday and wanted the recipe. They all can’t wait to try your tamales.”
That made you feel better.
“I hope I don’t disappoint them.”
"You won't."
A thought came to you. "Fuck, I don't think I made enough pork!"
"You did."
"I did?"
He grinned. "Yes, when you called to ask how much to buy, I made sure you got enough."
Smiling at him, you replied, "You're very sneaky, Chucho and I love it."
"Thank you. What's next on the list?"
“You won’t. What’s next on the list?”
The cart was fuller than you anticipated, with Chucho getting a variety of fruit-flavored sodas called Jarritos and some beer by the time you reached the register. He also refused to let you pay, which was annoying, but after the third time you tried, he gave you a grumpy look that was strikingly similar to your boyfriend’s, so you’d given up.
Everything fit in the trunk of the Mustang, and the two of you were off back to the ranch, Chucho turning on an oldies radio station while you guys made a game plan for the day.
He told you Antonia cooked the red chile sauce first, making the filling next, then the tamale dough called masa after. That was a good idea, deciding that was what you’d do, too.
Returning to the house, everything was brought inside, and you organized it all into piles for each step of the process on the kitchen table. Chucho put all the drinks in a giant cooler with a ton of ice stationed out of the way in the big kitchen.
After washing and drying your hands, you got to work, starting with shredding the pork that cooled while you were out. Chucho turned on the kitchen radio, you telling him to keep it on the Spanish station his wife had loved, and he’d gotten you guys some cold beers out of the fridge.
While you dealt with the meat, he took care of soaking the corn husks in hot water where they’d need to stay for hours to make them pliable and easy to work with when it was time to construct the tamales.
When you finished with the pork, it was put aside, and you started on the red sauce.
The two of you were standing next to each other at the kitchen counter, a big wooden cutting board in front of you both with kitchen shears and a chef’s knife you were using to cut the stems off of the chiles, then using the knife to slice them open and remove the seeds by hand—it was a somewhat tedious process.
“Did you always help your wife with this part?” you asked him, adding another cleaned chile to the pile on a baking sheet beside the cutting board.
“Sí (Yes), well, at least until Javi got old enough to remember not to touch his eyes.” He chuckled.
“A rookie mistake.” You shook your head.
“Oh yeah, I remember the first time, he was maybe five or six, she told him, ‘No te toques los ojos—es owie (Don’t touch your eyes—it’s owie),’ and what did he do? Rubbed them. Antonia had to soak cotton balls in milk and put them over his eyes.”
“Oh god, poor little guy!”
The pile of chiles was getting bigger.
“She felt bad, so I’d help her with the chiles, and he’d be her shadow through everything else.”
“He loved his mom a whole lot.”
“Yes, he did. Surprised he even bothered with me.”
Frowning, you turned your head toward him, pausing what you were doing to reply, “You know he loves you a lot too, right?”
He sighed, “I know.” His hands were still working.
“No, I mean he loves you so much, he won’t leave Laredo, we won’t leave Laredo. He needs to live close to you because he loves you, and he can’t fathom ever being away from you again. I think it’s those talks you guys have over beers.” You smiled, knocking your shoulder against his.
Chucho huffed out a breath. “Maybe it is. We had a good one after he watched the video of his mamá cooking.”
“Oh?” You tried not to sound too curious, returning to what you were doing. “Is there like father-son confidentiality, like doctor-patient?”
“Yes,” he chuckled. “But,” he said in a conspiratorial tone, “you didn’t hear it from me that he’s planning to propose in less than a year.”
Grinning, you replied, “On our first anniversary! I know; I weaseled it out of him.”
He laughed. “I should’ve known you’d find out. Mija?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you a betting woman?”
“As a matter of fact, I am. What are we thinking?”
“I’ll bet you fifty dollars he does it before.”
“See, I thought maybe he’d break, too, but he is adamant about this one-year thing. Apparently, he has a whole romantic plan. So, I’ll take you up on that wager. I see him waiting.”
“We’ll see what happens.”
“Yes, we will.”
He spoke a little softer, “You’re really not moving away when you get married?”
“Hell no, Pop. Our kids need to be close to their abuelo.”
You heard him sniffle, so you bumped your shoulder into his again. “I’m glad to hear that.”
The recipe for the sauce was pretty easy to follow, Chucho seeming to know what appliances you would need and getting them ready: preheating the oven, pulling out the blender, bringing you a good-sized saucepan. When it was simmering on the stove, you thoroughly washed your hands with soap and water to clean off the chile oils, Chucho already doing so.
It was now time to wait as it finished cooking, the anticipation swelling up inside you, praying to whatever deity was listening for it to turn out okay.
The black-rimmed reading glasses were on his face—they’d been kept in the inside pocket of his jacket, that article of clothing draped over the back of his chair. His sleeves were rolled up his forearms, his eyes scanning the words on the document from the opened file in front of him on his desk, while his right hand scribbled notes on the yellow pages of a legal pad, his styrofoam cup of coffee, empty.
Before he met Cielito, it was nightmares that plagued him—not every night, but enough that there was a familiarity to the shadows of his dark room, the bright moon outside his blinds a regular companion. What happened earlier was… new, yet he knew he had to call her; she told him to if she wasn’t there, and he had a nightmare, and this seemed pretty fucking close to one. Her voice gave him something to focus on, grounding him, soothing him to the point his heartbeat slowed and his breathing evened out. The whole thing was entirely unexpected, and he fucking hoped it didn’t happen again.
She wanted him to work out the shit in his head, and he hated admitting it, but maybe he needed to see a professional.
Fuck, he couldn’t go to any in Laredo because people would talk. He set his pen down, leaning back in his chair, his fingers pushing through his hair as he sighed. A neighboring town was an option. It’d be a bit of a drive—worth it, though, if they could help with whatever the fuck was wrong with him. He’d talk to his wif–girlfriend, he mentally corrected, frowning. He’d talk to her tonight since she could probably find a place with her connections at the hospital.
After the panic attack, he focused on work, stocking his office with supplies from the supply closet before going to annoy the fuck out of the Sheriff’s assistant. Her desk was right outside Arturo’s closed office door, a coffee mug on her desk with the University of Texas crest and the words, ‘Class of ‘98,’ so she was a fresh graduate, her nameplate reading Joy, looking like a deer in headlights when Javier rattled off various documents he needed from the Sheriff. Eventually, he sighed when he realized she wasn’t listening and asked for her pad of paper and pen to write them down instead, telling her he needed them as soon as possible.
Half an hour later, she’d brought him a small stack of files and apologized profusely, explaining she’d only worked there a month and had no idea what he was talking about, needing help from the Sheriff.
Javier then spent the time up until now reading and jotting down notes to work out his plan.
He flicked his wrist up, looking at the silver watch face, seeing it was a little past noon and time for lunch.
Closing the manilla folder, he moved it back onto the stack, pushing his notepad aside. His hips shifted forward in his seat as he shoved his hand into his right pocket to pull out his phone, hitting one, then the call button to speed dial Cielito, bringing it up to his ear. Sitting up in his chair, he rested his elbows on the desk, taking off his glasses with his free hand.
She answered on the third ring.
“Hey, babe!”
He smiled. “Hi, baby.”
Spanish music played softly in the background on her end, making him smile bigger, warmth radiating in his chest.
“I’m happy to hear your voice. Has everything been okay since we last talked? Anything else happen?”
“Aside from me confusing the fuck out of some girl and, I think, accidentally scaring her?”
She’d been very apologetic and wouldn’t look him in the eyes, bolting once he told her she didn’t need to apologize and that everything was fine.
“Was your face grumpy, and were you bossy?”
His smile fell.
“Maybe… a little?”
“So, that’s a yes. How old are we talking?”
“Just graduated from UT.”
“Then she was probably really intimidated. Be nicer. You’re working with these people five days a week, don’t make them hate you.”
He frowned, thinking about how everyone in Colombia called him an asshole because he didn’t put up with their shit.
Sighing, he replied, “I’ll… try.”
“Good. So, did the Sheriff give you better details on what he wants you to do?”
His face pinched when he thought of the conversation he had with Arturo.
“Yeah, he tried to fucking saddle me with a goddamn team and have me run the fucking show,” he seethed.
“Excuse me?” There was anger in her tone. “Javier, you told him to get fucked, right?”
“Told him I’d quit on the fucking spot.”
“That’s my man.” He could hear the smile in her voice, and it made his own lips tip up. “What happened?”
“We came to an agreement, and I’ll be doing the work I was promised.”
“And you’re positive you want this job?”
What choice did he have? He needed this job to protect her—he had to do this for her and their family. The work wouldn’t be too difficult, and it was a desk job, so he’d stay safe.
“Yeah, Cielito, I do.”
“Okay…”
“I promise I’m okay, baby. I’ll, uh, need to talk to you about this morning at home.” He scratched at his mustache.
“Of course. Whatever you need.”
Changing the subject, he asked, “I hear you’re in the kitchen. What are you working on?”
“Right now? A sauce that I am stressing the fuck out about because I’ve never made it before and don’t really know what it’s supposed to taste like, so I’m basically doing this blind.”
“I know it’s gonna be the best fucking sauce, Cielito.”
“You think so?” He could picture her perfectly in his mind chewing on her bottom lip.
“I know so because you’re making it. Haven’t had cooking as good as yours since mi mamá.”
“Really?”
“Yes, and you fucking know it. I tell you every day.”
“You do really like my cooking.”
“I do, Pop loves your cooking, too, and I know you’ll kick this sauce’s ass.”
She snorted. “I’ll try. Speaking of your father, after work, drive out to the ranch. We’re having dinner with him.”
His brows furrowed.
“Are you cooking at the apartment or Pop’s?”
“Your dad’s because that was easiest for all the work I have to do.”
He smiled. “Is he with you?”
“Oh, yeah. Took the day off to be my sous chef, but I’m missing my good luck, especially with this sauce!” She said the last word dramatically.
The idea of his girlfriend and dad cooking all day together delighted Javier and had him wondering what she could possibly be making. He was assuming some kind of complicated pasta dish with a complex sauce—he was excited to try whatever it was.
“Baby, don’t stress,” he said calmly. “It’s gonna be so fucking good, and you know I’ll love it. I always love your cooking.”
“I have to be real, babe. There’s a lot of pressure with this one.”
“And you’re gonna knock it out of the fuckin’ park.”
“You’re so nice to me, and I am upset I cannot kiss your stupidly handsome face right now.”
He huffed out an amused breath, smirking. “Glad to know I’m your hunky, grumpy man, you’re disgustingly in love with who has a stupidly handsome face.”
“It’s true!” she exclaimed. “You are my hunky, grumpy man, I’m disgustingly in love with who has a stupidly handsome face I wish I could kiss right now!”
He heard his dad laughing in the background.
“I really fucking love you.”
“I really fucking love you, too. I don’t want you to waste your whole lunch on the phone with me. Go eat.”
“I’d rather waste my lunch on the phone with you.”
“That’s sweet, but please eat for me. It will make me feel better.”
“Then I’ll eat my lunch.” He moved the phone into his other hand, pressing it back to his ear, as he leaned over the side of his chair with a groan to grab the metal lunch box off the floor. “You couldn’t pack it in a paper bag?” he asked, setting it on the desk in front of him.
“You keep acting like my lunch box is the worst thing on earth when literally Empire is your favorite Star Wars movie, and I know you think it’s cool.”
He sighed. “Yeah, but I’m almost forty, walking around with a fucking children’s lunch box.”
“A cool children’s lunch box.”
“I guess it’s kinda cool.”
“Stop lying to yourself—you love it.”
“I don’t love it,” he grumbled.
“You do. I’m so sorry, babe, but I gotta get back to cooking. Don’t forget to come out here after work!”
“I won’t forget. I love you.”
“I know.”
He chuckled. “Smartass.”
“You love me, and I love you, too. See you after work!”
“Bye, Cielito.”
“Bye, Javi.”
They hung up, setting his phone down next to the lunch box, his hands moving to flick open the two clasps on the metal with his thumbs, flipping the top back.
He snorted, smiling, as he looked at the decent-sized sandwich, three—he pulled out the foil-covered sandwich—no, four little baggies of fruit snacks, a clementine, and a Hi-C Ecto Cooler drink carton.
God, he loved her.
Pulling open the foil, he sucked in a breath, lifting the top piece of bread and seeing she had made him one of her BLTs.
The previous night, they had breakfast for dinner before she’d left to go do her secret thing, and she’d made too much bacon, which he’s discovering was to make his sandwich—seeing the arugula, tomato, avocado, and aioli on bread from Anna’s bakery.
Something caught his eye in the lunch box, realizing it was a small piece of paper from the notepad on their fridge. Setting the sandwich down, he grabbed the folded note, unfolding it to see her familiar handwriting, a cute heart over the I in his name:
My dearest Javi,
I love you SO FUCKING MUCH and hope you have the BEST DAY at work! I know it’s probably going to be a lot (even if you’re stubborn and won’t admit it), so your favorite sandwich to comfort you since I won’t be there and an Ecto Cooler because I know you secretly like them. I’ll be thinking about you ALL DAY and am going to give you so MANY kisses when you get off.
Te amo, mi amor.
Your Cielito xoxo
His eyes were a little watery at all of the thought she’d put into his day—that she fucking knew it wasn’t going to go as smoothly as he hoped it would. Why was he surprised? She knew him better than he knew himself, and of course, she’d go out of her way to try and make everything okay.
Because she loved him.
Aside from his parents, no one had ever loved him so selflessly. It was a little overwhelming that she loved him with the same ferocity that he loved her. The Sheriff had said he was completely enraptured, but that wasn’t all—he was enthralled, enamored, entranced, she consumed him, and he consumed her; she wasn’t just the most beautiful and perfect woman on the planet, she was the one.
The cell phone was put back in your bag on the kitchen table, relieved Javi was doing good. Even though he reassured you multiple times he was okay after the panic attack, you still worried about him, but he sounded fine on the last call, and now you could really focus on what you were doing. Going back to the stove, you took the lid off the pan, stirring it with a large metal spoon, determined to kick its ass like Javi said you would.
“Does this seem too thick to you?” you asked, and Chucho came over to look.
“Sí, it’s an easy fix. Just add a little more water.”
“Right.” You nodded, doing as he said with some water in a glass measuring cup until it was the consistency you wanted. “Okay,” you said, the cup getting set aside. “Do you want to do the honors and taste it? Be brutally honest.”
Chucho was beside you, taking the silver spoon from your hand. Chewing on your lip, your tummy was all aflutter with nerves. You had followed every step on Antonia’s recipe card and got the secret ingredient, hoping you did her sauce justice, not sure what you’d do if you failed—that was a lie, you’d cry hysterically that you were a failure and let your amazing boyfriend down.
He inhaled deeply. “It smells wonderful.” You were basically on the edge of your seat, watching as he scooped a little of the sauce onto the spoon and brought it up to his lips, blowing on it softly. He paused, looking at you. “You ready?” he asked.
“Yes!” you exclaimed. “I need to know if I brought shame to your amazing wife!”
His eyebrows creased. “Mi Antonia would be so happy that you tried to make her sauce, and she’d tell you what her mamá told her when she was learning how to make it.”
“What did she say?”
“You didn’t make it wrong; you’re creating your own.”
“Oh.”
“Now, let’s see what your sauce tastes like.” And he ended the sentence by putting the spoon in his mouth and tasting it.
He hummed appreciatively, nodding his head, moving to put the dirtied utensil in the sink. “It’s very good, Mija,” he said after swallowing. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in. He was standing in front of you, his gaze on yours. “Wow.” His eyes were getting a little misty, taking off his glasses to wipe at them. “Haven’t had a sauce that good since mi amor. God, I miss her,” he mused, putting his glasses back on. His hand went to your shoulder. “It’s very close and very good. Antonia would be proud, and Javi’s going to love it.”
Happy tears fell down your cheeks, your arms going around him for a hug.
“I’m proud of you, too,” he said, hugging you back.
It made you cry harder, squeezing him a little tighter, roughly saying, “Thanks, Pop.”
After you calmed down, it was time to make the pork filling, which required using a large lidded Sauté pan, combining the meat and sauce, and having it simmer on the stove.
Chucho was making himself busy by cleaning and clearing off the counters of the stuff you no longer needed.
He had the dishwasher open, filling it with dirty things from the sink.
“I’m happy you had all the kitchenware I needed,” you told him.
Groaning as he bent to put the glass blender jar into the appliance, he said, “Couldn’t bring myself to get rid of any of it.”
“That’s understandable.” You nodded. If something happened to Javi, you’d be the same.
He straightened. “And it’s a good thing I kept it all because now you can use it.”
“Yes, I can.”
“May I ask a favor, Mija?”
Turning to face him, you said, “Yeah, of course—anything.”
“I know you’ll want to make more of her recipes. Can the next one be her flan?”
It made you soften, well aware that Antonia’s flan was his favorite dessert, loving it so much he named his horse after it.
Smiling, you answered, “You got it. We’ll have to go on another store adventure.”
He gave you a big grin. “We’ll take the Mustang.”
“I hoped we would.”
Once the filling was done, you tried a bite, loving the rich savoriness with a slight kick of spicy, the pork infused with the chile sauce was absolutely delicious. It was finally time to make the dough, reading over your notes about what Antonia had said in her instruction video. Chucho had gotten out her nice avocado green KitchenAid stand mixer that was probably a good twenty years old and in fantastic condition.
The dough was called masa and made out of a special ground-up corn, and in Antonia’s recipe, she added some of the red sauce to it and used the broth made from slow-cooking the pork, you doing the same. The mixer was on, hearing the mechanical whir as it mixed all of the ingredients, needing them to become the consistency of smooth peanut butter. Chucho was sitting at the kitchen table sipping his beer, the corn husks in two tall piles on a baking sheet, and the pork filling in a large bowl on the tabletop next to them.
There was the sound of the front door opening and the screen door slamming closed.
“¿Donde está la muchacha (Where is she)?” A feminine voice shouted, footsteps coming closer to the kitchen.
“No la asustes, Lupita (Don’t scare her away, Lupita),” another woman said. “Tenemos la suerte de conocerla (We are lucky to be meeting her).”
“Sí, y me muero por conocerla, María (Yes, and I’m dying to meet her, María).”
Two very short older women entered the kitchen, both smiling and holding aluminum foil-covered glass Pyrex baking dishes. The two had similar hairstyles of their hair cropped short, the one with black hair, her curls framing her face with bangs, wearing a purple floral blouse; the blonde with a choppier cut, a gold cross necklace laying over her dark blouse.
“Aquí está (She’s here)!” The lighter-haired one excitedly announced, moving quickly to put her dish on a part of the counter you weren’t using.
Turning toward her, you smiled, a white rubber-ended spatula in your hand, greeting her with, “Hola!”
“¿Hablas español (Do you speak Spanish)?” she asked.
“Un poco (A little),” you answered. “Todavía estoy aprendiendo (I’m still learning).”
“Then I’ll use English,” she said with a heavy accent. “Chucho has shown us pictures, and you’re much prettier in person.”
“Thank you?”
“Mija,” Chucho said, “That’s my sister, Guadalupe—”
“You can call me Lupe,” she interjected.
“And María,” he added. The other woman had set down her glass dish, too, both now standing beside you, Chucho introducing you to them.
“It’s nice to meet you,” María’s accented voice said with a warm smile.
“So, nice to finally meet you,” Lupe told you. “We’ve heard so much about you.”
“Hopefully, good stuff,” you replied. “It’s nice meeting you both.” Your attention moved back to the mixer, switching it off.
“Lots of good stuff, Mija,” Lupe said.
“You’re making the masa?” María asked.
“Yes.” You nodded, lifting the mixing arm out of the bowl and scraping the sides with your spatula to check the consistency of the dough, smiling when it was smooth. “I think it turned out okay—I have to do the water test.” That was a way to determine if it was ready; if it floated, it was done, and if it sank, you needed to add more fat.
“I’ll get the water,” Lupe said, moving to get a cup out of a nearby cabinet and turning on the sink.
“Did you have a hard time making the sauce?” María asked.
Looking at her, you answered, “Not really? Antonia did a great job of writing out her recipe, so I did what it said, but boy, was I nervous about how it would turn out.” You chuckled.
“Oh, yes,” María said. “It’s the biggest worry.”
“It was,” you agreed, nodding your head.
A warm glass of water was set next to you on the counter. “Thank you,” you said, getting a small piece of the dough, holding your breath as you dropped it into the cup. It was floating, “Yes!” You pumped your fist in the air. “I did it, Chucho!”
“I knew you would!” he replied. “María, Lupita, ven aquí y prueba la carne (Come over here and try the meat).” They went over to the table, and nerves were once again making your stomach flutter, hoping they’d like it. You were distracting yourself by using your rubber spatula to get the dough off of the flat beater.
“¡Dios mío (Oh my god)!” María sounded surprised. “Es bien bueno (It’s very good). ¿Esta fue la primera vez que lo hizo (This was her first time making it)?”
“Mmm,” Lupe hummed. “Esta muy sabroso (It’s very tasty).”
“Sí, es su primera vez (Yes, it’s her first time).” Chucho sounded so proud, and it had your eyes brimming with tears. “Te dije que es una cocinera increíble (I told you she’s an amazing cook). Sabe casi como el de mi amor (It tastes almost like my love’s).”
“Sí, sí (Yes, yes),” María agreed. “Estoy sorprendida (I’m shocked).”
“¿Ella conoce el secreto de Antonia (She knows Antonia’s secret)?” Lupe asked.
“Sí,” he answered.
“¿Tú se lo dijiste a ella pero no a nosotros (You told her but not us)?”
“Sí, porque mi Antonia dijo que la esposa de Javiercito puede saberlo y creo que se casarán antes de fin de año (Yes, because my Antonia said Javier’s wife can know and I think they will get married before the end of the year).”
You spun around, your eyes wide. “Before the end of the year?” you gasped.
His gaze met yours, smiling as he nodded. “Oh, yeah,” he answered. “Javi can be… impulsive, and I don’t think there’s a chance in hell he’s going to make it to your anniversary.” He looked beyond amused.
Swallowing hard, you asked, “Really?”
“He’s right,” María added, looking at you, her lips lifted in a smile. “When Javi was still working out here, and I’d stop by, he wouldn’t stop talking about you. He’s head over heels for you, Chula (Cutie). That boy won’t be able to make it.”
“I agree,” Lupe said. “You’re going to be family sooner than you know.”
Your heart was pounding in your chest, feeling positively giddy that the people who’ve known Javi his whole life all agreed he wasn’t going to make it to your anniversary. It wouldn’t even bother you if Chucho won the bet. You’d still be a winner.
“Wow,” you replied. “And I’m happy you like my cooking. I was super nervous.”
“With how good this is?” María pointed at the bowl of meat. “There was nothing for you to worry about, Chula.” She walked over to you, giving you a hug, saying, “Welcome to the family.”
“Thank you,” you said, after separating, Lupe came over to hug you, too.
“You did good,” She told you. “We’re happy to have you here.”
María said to everyone, “There’s lunch on the counter. I made tortas ahogadas, and Lupita made some arroz y frijoles (rice and beans)—Rebeca’s bringing her tres leches cake.”
At the mention of lunch, your stomach grumbled, realizing you hadn’t eaten since that morning.
With everything done to make the tamales, it was time to take a small break, finding out a torta ahogada was a type of sandwich with pork carnitas and red onions smothered in a red chile and tomato sauce served on a crusty bread roll and was amazing.
Eventually, Rebeca showed up, the youngest of Chucho’s sisters and a couple of the wives of Javi’s cousins who worked at the ranch bringing along their young kids, who were happy to watch cartoons in the living room and eat snacks their mom’s brought, everyone else eating and drinking the food and drinks that were in the kitchen.
There wasn’t any awkwardness for you, the family very welcoming as you all talked and laughed, and then it was time to get to work making the tamales, forming an assembly line on both sides of the table—the first person spread the masa on the husk, passing it to the next person to put in the filling, the final person folding and tying them with a thin strip of corn husk. It was obvious all the adults had done the process before, continuing to chat as you worked, the children screaming as they ran around the house, and everyone having a great time.
Chucho was folding and putting the finished tamale in a large pot at the end of the table while you sat next to him, spooning on the pork before passing it to him.
He told the table, “She thought she was going to do this with just my help.” The whole table laughed, feeling heat creep up your neck.
“I didn’t know!” you defended, putting a large spoonful of meat on top of what María handed you.
“It’s okay, Mija,” he reassured, taking it from you.
“This is something you do with family,” Rebeca said, across the table, spreading masa. Her black hair was pulled up in a tight bun, her kind eyes glancing at you.
“In December,” Lupe started, folding on the other side of the table from Chucho, “we have a big Tamalada at María’s and make hundreds of tamales.”
Your eyes went wide. “That must take hours,” you replied.
“It does.” She smiled. “But we have a great time.”
“When Antonia was alive,” María said, “she did even more. It took her days to prepare the filling and masa, then our whole family and her older brother’s would come out here, and we’d have the table like this and switch out people when they got tired. It went the whole day, but she made tamales for the family and others in town who’d order from her.”
“I’m surprised we could fit so many people in our house,” Chucho chuckled.
“You couldn’t,” Rebeca laughed. “People were always in the backyard partying.”
“And we’d finish making the tamales,” Lupe said. “And everyone would stay out here until one, two in the morning hanging out and drinking.”
“That’s something you need to know,” Chucho told you as he took another tamale you passed him. “When the family gets together, it’s never a short visit; we’re together for hours.”
It was hard to imagine wanting to spend that amount of time with your own family—it would be literal torture. But with this family? You’d love it, with how much fun everybody was having and the way the conversation flowed so easily. It was apparent there was a lot of love between these people and that they enjoyed each other’s company, finding it refreshing. The thought that this was how Javi grew up made you really happy—so many people who loved him and were open with their affection; each person at this table had given you a hug and welcomed you into the family, including the daughters-in-law who were excited to have another one who would join their ranks.
You’d honestly never had a better time with so many people, feeling like this was where you belonged.
The rest of his day hadn’t been too bad.
The meeting with the narcotics unit had gone mostly well, Javier taking a lot of notes as they all discussed what they were currently doing, relaying what was working and what wasn’t, him already having ideas of how to help them improve. He was expecting there to be some pushback with him coming in—assumed there’d be dick-measuring contests, but he quickly learned the Sheriff only hired people who actually cared about their jobs and wanted to be better at them—except for the kid on the team who was in his twenties and Javier had to tell to fuck off when he asked if the government really paid for him to get pussy; Travis quickly learned that Javier did not tolerate that disrespectful bullshit.
His Cielito had told him to be nicer to the people he worked with, but they made it so fucking hard.
He’d left at five on the dot, carrying her Star Wars lunchbox out of the building and to his truck, stopping on the way to his dad’s at the florist. Mrs. Taylor, the owner, had a smile on her face when he walked into her tiny shop, asking him which bouquet it’d be this week, her not even remotely surprised when he told her his girlfriend’s favorite, sunflowers.
The flowers were carefully laid in the passenger seat as he drove out of the city limits toward the ranch, thinking about everything Cielito had done for him today—taking the day off to watch/help him get ready, making him come before work, answering the phone when he called and calming him down, hanging out and cooking with his dad, making his favorite sandwich for lunch with a sweet note that he saved in the top drawer of his desk. She was right when she wrote it’d be a lot for him to go back to work, but all those things she did had eclipsed any of the bad shit, and he was in a great mood, feeling so unbelievably happy.
He didn’t know how he could possibly thank her for it all, thinking he’d probably go down on her for a couple of hours and get her off so many times she passed out—that would be after he fucked her nice and slow, needing to feel her come around his dick.
His eyebrows furrowed when he turned onto his father’s long driveway and noticed more cars than usual parked along the gravel in front of the house and out back, spotting a couple belonging to his tía’s. Confused, he put the truck into park in front of his girlfriend’s car, grabbing the flowers before getting out.
The sunflowers were in his left hand, his right loosening his tie while he walked along the stone path to the front steps, it untied and resting on either side of his chest by the time he made it to the door. Once inside, his feet carried him to the kitchen, where he abruptly stopped at the doorway.
She was catty-corner to him across the kitchen, the angle allowing him to see her side as she stood at the kitchen counter next to his tía Rebeca at the stove, a tortilla press in front of Cielito, her grabbing some dough from a bowl beside her, rolling it in her hands to make it into a ball, and putting it in the press, pushing down on it hard with two hands. Tía María was next to Rebeca, cooking, tía Lupita nearby making what looked to be a salad, all four of them laughing as Cielito handed the flattened tortilla to Rebeca to cook on the hot pan.
He was stuck in place, shocked at how easily she was making the tortillas like it was something she’d done hundreds of times before and having a lively conversation with his tías, the familiarity in which they spoke making his heart squeeze tight.
Hearing them call her Chula (Cutie) made him smile because it meant they liked her.
Tía María’s head turned, spotting him, moving what she was cooking onto a cold burner to immediately make her way over to him. “Ahi estas! (There you are)!” she said. “Te demorastes! (It took you long enough).”
Rebeca stopped what she was doing, heading his way with Lupita.
He soon found himself crowded by his tiny tías glaring at him, Lupita reaching up to cup his cheeks, saying, “Cómo te atreves a mantener a este ángel lejos de nosotros (How dare you keep this angel from us).”
“Sí,” Rebeca agreed, pinching his arm. “Ella es maravillosa (She is wonderful).”
“Y una cocinera increíble (And an amazing cook),” María added.
“Nos debiste haber introducido antes (You should have introduced us sooner),” Lupita said.
María spoke, “Podríamos haberle estado enseñándole nuestras recetas (We could have been teaching her our recipes).”
“Y las de tu mamá (And your mom’s),” Rebeca told him, poking him in the arm.
“Que no se te ocurre venir sin ella el domingo que viene (Don’t you dare come without her next Sunday),” María threatened as she jabbed his other arm.
“Sí, más te vale (Yes, you better),” Rebeca agreed. “Necesito su receta de pastel de melocotón (I need her peach pie recipe).”
“Deja de ser codicioso y manteniéndola para ti (Stop being greedy and keeping her to yourself),” Lupita said, patting his cheeks. “Es grosero (It’s rude).”
“Muy grosero (Very rude),” María added.
Javier’s mouth was opening and closing, unsure how to respond, finally clearing his throat to say, “Lo siento, lo siento, fue mi error (I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it was my mistake).” He pressed his free hand to his chest. “Yo era muy codicioso pero cómo no iba a serlo, la has conocido, ella es increíble y la amo (I was very greedy but how could I not be, you met her, she is amazing and I love her).”
The anger left their faces, replaced with fond looks.
“Ella también te ama, Chamaco (She loves you, too, Little Guy),” María said, rubbing his bicep. “Ella te ama mucho y también la amamos a ella (She loves you a lot and we love her, too).”
“Encontraste una buena (You found a good one),” Rebeca told him.
He smiled. “Sé que lo hice (I know I did). Soy el hombre más afortunado del mundo (I’m the luckiest man in the world). Ella es con quien me voy a casar (She is the one I’m going to marry). Vamos a tener hijos (We’re going to have children). La amo mucho (I love her so much).”
“Si dios quiere (God willing)!” the three exclaimed simultaneously.
María said, “Javiercito, tu mamá la hubiera amado y querido que te casaras con ella (Javier, your mom would have loved her and wanted you to marry her).”
“Sí,” the other two agreed, nodding their heads.
“Si, lo se (Yes, I know). Ahora, ¿puedo hablar con mi amor por favor (Now, can I please talk to my love)?”
They all moved away from him, finding that Cielito had washed her hands and was standing behind them. The moment her path was cleared, she was rushing him, flinging herself at him with enough force he grunted when her body collided with his, having to take a step back to keep his balance as her mouth fused to his, kissing him hard.
He was thankful for whichever of his tías took the flowers so he could hug her close to him, melting into the kiss that deepened quickly, her tongue slipping past his lips to slide along his own, her fingers digging in his hair. The older women were laughing, giving them some semblance of privacy as they returned to what they were doing.
Something like calm came over him, his body relaxing as they kissed, his hands rubbing all over her back, needing to feel her. It was the contentedness and knowing deep down in his bones this was where he was meant to be—when he was with her, he was home, she was home, she was forever and everything to him.
His lungs began to ache, and her mouth left his, breathing hard as she kissed all over his face, her hands grabbing his head to tilt it forward so she could reach his forehead, smothering him in loud smacking kisses that had him smiling so big she was able to kiss his dimple.
She finally pulled back to look him in the eyes, a little smile on her swollen lips, “Hi,” she greeted.
“Hi,” he replied.
“How was the rest of your day?” she asked, her fingers fixing his hair.
“Not bad.”
“That’s good.”
“Look at my badge.” He lifted it up for her to see his picture.
“God, you’re hot—it is unfair how photogenic you are.” She glanced up at him. “It’s a good thing, though.”
His eyebrow rose. “That I’m photogenic?”
“Yeah, means our kids will probably be photogenic, too. There are going to be so many pictures—I can feel it in my bones that you are going to be worse than your dad.”
He’d gone soft at the mention of their future children, smiling at her.
“Probably.” He shrugged because she wasn’t wrong. Javier was always using the Polaroid camera, and they started their own album—he’d been meaning to get a better camera. “I see you’ve met my tías,” he said.
“And a bunch of your primos (cousins) who work out here, their wives and kids, and your tíos (uncles). Most of them are out back.” She jutted her thumb behind her. “Your dad is barbecuing, and I was learning how to make tortillas, which aren’t too difficult. I’m basically a pro at making masa now.”
“You made masa?” He asked with his eyebrows up in his hairline.
“Yep. I actually have a surprise for you—take off your jacket, and get comfy at the table.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled, doing as she said and shrugging it off while she walked away. He went over to the kitchen table, putting his suit jacket on the back of his chair, the wood scraping across the floor as he pulled it out to take a seat. The sunflowers he brought were in a small vase on the tabletop.
First, she brought him a cold beer, the bottle sweating in front of him.
“Thank you, baby,” he said.
“You’re welcome.” She winked before heading over to the stove.
He picked up the beer, taking a drink, finding it cool and refreshing before setting it back down. His elbows rested on the table as he fiddled with the label on the glass.
All the women were whispering to each other, and it made him curious as to what the surprise was, watching as someone grabbed a plate from a cabinet.
“Did the sauce turn out how you were hoping?” he asked loud enough for Cielito to hear.
“According to your family, yes,” she answered.
“It turned out real good, Chamaco,” Maria said.
“It did,” Lupe added. “She did a great job.”
“A really great job,” Rebeca agreed.
His eyebrows creased, thinking about how she said it was a sauce she’d never made before and how she was stressed about it, his family now saying she made it well. Did she make a Mexican dish?
“Close your eyes!” Cielito said.
“What?” he asked.
“Close your eyes!”
“Okay…?” he replied, closing them.
Moments later, the beer was removed from his hands, moving his arms out of the way to make space for the plate that was set down.
“Now, before you open your eyes. I need you to know I tried really fucking hard, and if you hate them, it’s fine; I’ll never make them again.”
He snorted. “I’m not gonna hate it.”
“I mean, you might, and it’s okay if you do.”
“I won’t.”
Her hand rubbed his upper back, feeling her kiss the top of his head, her muffled voice saying, “This is why I love you. Okay, open your eyes.”
His breath hitched in his throat, his heart thudding in his chest, not believing what he was seeing.
When she said she was working on a new recipe all day that involved a sauce, he assumed pasta or something along those lines—he never in a million fucking years would’ve guessed she’d try to make tamales, staring at the two wrapped in corn husks on the plate in shock.
“What are they filled with?” he whispered, and the thing was, he knew her answer before she even said it, his eyes burning and his bottom lip starting to tremble.
“It’s your mom’s recipe,” she gently confirmed, the first tear falling down his cheek.
He needed to try them, his hands moving to unwrap one, the tamale steaming as he grabbed the fork she’d set beside his plate and took his first bite.
Javier has had years to grieve the loss of his mother and come to terms with the fact she was gone—he’d never see her, talk to her or get to eat her food again. She was gone. Yet, the spices of the red chile sauce and the sweetness of the pork hit his tongue, and for a moment, it felt like she was alive again, the taste so close that his shoulders started shaking, and more tears fell, savoring each bite he took, until the first one was finished, and he was quickly digging into the second.
It was like coming home after being away for years and feeling the warm embrace of your loved one—the instant comfort, happy nostalgia, and overwhelming love, Javier remembering the many times he’d sat at this same table with his mamá nearby, eating her tamales, feeling like she was here with him now.
“Are they okay…?” Cielito asked. “I hope you’re not mad at me for making them…”
The last tamale was gone, his head turning to look up at her with wet cheeks.
His voice was rough, telling her, “I’m not mad. I’m so fucking happy. You—” His voice cracked, his eyes squeezing shut. “—you,” he tried again. “You gave me a chance to eat mi mamá’s food again, and I’m so happy.” There was no way he could keep from crying, shoving his face into her stomach and hugging her tight as he sobbed.
This woman loved him so goddamn much, it was making him cry harder. He couldn’t believe she went through all of this effort for him—she did it for him. He didn’t deserve all of this. He didn’t deserve her. What was she doing with him? How had he lucked out so much? With all of the shit he’s been through and how life has always kicked his ass, there was a fear in the back of his mind that things were too good and she’d realize he wasn’t worth it. It just seemed so fucking impossible that he found someone who truly loved him—she didn’t even have to say the words, he could feel it in what she’d done, and it was crazy to him she loved him that much.
Was it crazy, though?
He was just as in love with her. He’d do anything for her, anything because she had embedded herself so deeply in his heart, he was sure if something happened to her, it’d stop beating—his love for her felt as bright as the burning sun and would keep shining even when he was no more.
“Oh, baby,” she whispered, rubbing one hand on his back, the other cradling the back of his head. “I love you—I love you so much, and had a feeling today would be tough. Your dad said I can make any of your mom’s recipes, so if there’s something you want, I’ll give it a go, and your tías all offered to help me learn.”
Leaning his head back to meet her eyes, he asked, “You want to make more of her recipes?”
She stroked her fingers through his hair.
“Absolutely. I promised your dad I’d make him flan.”
He smiled. “Pop would love that.”
“I know, so I gotta make it for him. He said he’d take me in the Mustang again to go shopping for the ingredients.”
His eyes went wide. “He took you in the Mustang?”
“He did! Top-down and everything. It was a blast.”
“You should see if he’ll let you drive it...”
She huffed out a breath. “To see if you’re the only one with a Mustang ban?”
“Yeah.”
“I highly doubt he’ll let me.”
“You should still ask.”
She playfully rolled her eyes. “Fine, but if by some fucking miracle he says yes, you’re not allowed to be upset,” she said, poking his nose.
“Deal.” He nodded.
“You feeling better?” she asked.
“Yeah. They were so fucking good. Please tell me you made more.”
“There are so many. Your dad had me make a ton.”
Tía María said from over at the stove, “She thought she and your papá could make them all by themselves.”
“I didn’t know!” Cielito exclaimed, throwing up her hands.
“Wait,” Javier started, “was there a tamalada? Is that why everyone’s here?”
“Yeah,” she answered. “Your dad sprung the news on me that he invited everyone while at the store. It was a lot of fun. I did filling.”
He was frowning, feeling sad he missed it.
“I liked to fold,” he sighed.
“Hey.” She held his cheeks. “We can do it again on a day you have off.”
Smiling, he replied, “I’d like that.”
Leaning down, she gave him a tender kiss.
“I love you,” he murmured into her lips.
“I love you, too.”
His mouth left hers, his chair squeaking as it moved back, so he could stand, turning so their bodies were chest to chest, his big palms cradling her face as he looked her in the eyes.
“No,” he said, “te amo más que a nada y mi vida estaría vacía sin ti (No, I love you more than anything, and my life would be empty without you). Vivo para ti, respiro por ti, mi corazón late por ti, soy nada sin ti (I live for you, I breathe for you, my heart beats for you, I am nothing without you).”
“Javi,” she gasped, seeing the tears brimming in her eyes. “That’s so fucking romantic, but I don’t deserve that kind of devotion.” She shook her head. “I’m nobody, and I’m waiting for the day you realize I’m a big fucking loser.”
His eyes squinted, his eyebrows knitting together, not understanding why she would say that.
“What?” he asked. “What the fuck are you talking about? You’re fucking incredible and everything to me. You’re not nobody. You’re my all—you’re it, and I hate the self-deprecating bullshit because if one of us doesn’t deserve love, it’s fucking me.” He patted over his heart. “I don’t deserve you, and I’m really fucking aware of it. So, stop it, and let me fucking love you.”
“Esto es mejor que mi telenovela (This is better than my telenovela),” tía Lupita whispered.
Rebeca shooshed her. “Se está poniendo bueno (It’s getting good).”
“What the fuck are you talking about that you don’t deserve me?” Cielito asked. “I can’t be self-deprecating, but you can? No, unacceptable. You’re a fucking amazing man, and I will not tolerate you thinking that you do not deserve me—you more than deserve me. Thank you very much. So, you fucking stop it—” She poked him in the chest. “—and let me fucking love you.”
He smiled, grasping her hand and bringing it up to kiss her knuckles. “You can love me, and I’ll love you, so that’s settled.”
“Good.”
He kissed the center of her palm. “I really fucking love you.”
“I really fucking love you, too.”
His lips pressed to her wrist. “Estoy enloquecido por ti (I’m crazy about you).”
A kiss to her arm. “Mi corazón es tuyo (My heart is yours).”
Another press of his lips further up. “Soy tuyo (I’m yours).”
One to the bend in her arm. “Eres todo para mi (You’re everything to me).”
Straightening, he gently cupped her cheeks. “Eres el amor de mi vida, mi Cielito (You are the love of my life, my Cielito).” Finally, kissing her on the lips.
Javi demolished seven of your tamales, and when there was a minute with you two alone in the kitchen, you watched him fill two gallon Ziploc bags with probably twenty more that he hid in the fridge to take home, which made you so insanely happy. There was still a bunch left for everyone else to have more than one, not feeling too worried about it since Javi’s tíos showed up with a ton of meat and other things for Chucho to cook on his massive grill and ingredients for his tías to make sides.
Your boyfriend had draped his tie over his suit jacket on the back of a chair at the kitchen table, stuffing his badge in the pocket, rolling his sleeves up his forearms, and popping open a few buttons on his dress shirt before you’d gone out back. A beer he was nursing was in one hand, the other over your shoulders, keeping you close to him.
A dozen or so kids, all under the age of twelve, were running around laughing and screaming in the backyard. The glass dining table on the patio had paper plates, plastic utensils, condiments, a big bowl of fresh-cut fruit, and a tiny stack of tamales on it. The adults sat at a picnic table on the grass, others in plastic chairs pulled close, talking animatedly while eating and drinking their sodas and beers, waiting for more food to be ready, a boombox out playing music.
Javi’s dad had an array of things he was grilling, pointing at each one with his giant metal tongs and telling you what each was: costillas (pork ribs), entraña (skirt steak), chorizó (well-seasoned pork sausage), cebollitas asadas (grilled green onions), and elote (grilled corn).
“The elote,” Chucho said, flipping one over to grill the other side, “we dress it in mayo, cotija cheese that’s crumbly, chili powder, and lime juice. It’s very good.”
“I’m sure I’m going to love it,” you replied, Javi pulling you closer into his side and kissing your hair.
“Ask him,” he murmured in your ear.
“Ugh, fine, hey Pop?”
Your boyfriend jolted next to you, “Pop?” he whispered.
“Yeah, babe—” You rubbed his chest. “—there was a lot of bonding today; he said he thinks of me as his daughter, and real talk, he’s the best dad I’ve ever had.”
“Thank you, Mija,” Chucho said, smiling at you. “I’m happy to have another kid, and who knows, maybe I’ll finally get those nietos (grandchildren) I want soon.”
Javi was in the middle of taking a drink and choked, coughing into his arm while you patted his back.
“We’re waiting until we’re married,” you told him. “And gosh, we’d probably want to have a house, too. There’s no space for a baby in the apartment.”
Chucho was nodding his head. “Of course, of course, if anything, Javi’s got his room here, and I’ve got the spare bedroom we could turn into a nursery, so that’s an option.”
It made you grin.
“That’s so sweet of you, Pop. We appreciate it.”
“Anything for my kids and future grandkids. Now, you had a question.”
“Oh, yes! Would you ever maybe possibly let me drive the Mustang…?”
“Sure.”
Your mouth fell open, Javi saying loudly, “What?!”
“But I’d be your passenger,” Chucho continued. “You can drive when we go to La Tapatía for the flan—it’s the least I can do.”
“Can I drive the Mustang?” Javi asked.
His father met his eyes. “No.”
“¿Por qué (Why)?” he said in rapid Spanish, his tone laced with anger. “¿Por qué ella puede conducir y yo no (Why can she drive and I can’t)?”
“Ella me está haciendo el flan de tu madre (She is making me your mom’s flan). Por eso. (That’s why).”
“¿Qué tengo que hacer (What do I have to do)?”
The older man thought about it for a second before a big toothy smile appeared on his face.
“Cuando te casas con ella, puedes conducir el Mustang (When you marry her, you can drive the Mustang).”
Javi sighed loudly. “Esta bien (Fine). Estas bien agresivo (You’re very pushy). Me voy a casar con ella (I am going to marry her).”
“Yo sé, Mijo, pero no lo suficientemente pronto (I know, Mijo, but not soon enough).”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, I know, you want your grandkids. You’re gonna have to hold your fuckin’ horses and wait.” He took another drink.
“I’m not getting any younger.” Chucho’s attention went back to the barbecue, flipping meat and vegetables.
“I’m aware.”
The two of you migrated over to where everyone else was, standing off to the side as they all talked in Spanish, Javi’s arm around you, his finger drawing circles on your hip.
“I can’t wait to get home,” he whispered in your ear for only you to hear.
“Why’s that?” you asked just as softly.
“So I can spread you out and eat your pussy for an hour or two.” He nipped at your earlobe, your breath catching in your throat. “But first, I want to fuck you nice and slow—want you to feel how I stretch you open and make you squeeze my dick when you come. Gonna pump you full of me.”
You could feel your heartbeat in your cunt, squeezing your thighs together.
“Javier,” you gasped. “We are with your family. Stop making me horny.”
“Yeah? Your panties drenched? If I stuck my hand inside those stretchy fucking shorts I love, would I feel you all wet for me?”
You were, and you hated how smug he sounded.
“Of course, but we’re going to be here for hours. Don’t rile me up.”
His hand moved from your hip to squeeze your ass.
“Maybe I want to rile you up. Have you dripping for me and needy. Get you so fucking horny that we barely make it into the apartment, and I fuck you right there on the floor.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”
“You fucking love it. You don’t give a single fuck where I do it as long as I fuck you full of my come—you love being stuffed.”
“Javier,” you hissed.
“Yes, mi amor (my love)?”
“You’re being a goddamn menace.”
“I’m being your menace.” He kissed your cheek.
A tiny child was suddenly hugging your legs, looking down to find Javi’s cousin, Danny’s toddler, holding her chubby little arms up for you to pick her up, bending to do just that. The little girl was wearing a pink sleeveless dress, her little bit of dark hair pulled up in two pigtails, sitting her on your hip.
“Hola (Hi),” you greeted her with a smile. “¿Cuál es tu nombre (What is your name)?”
She was rubbing her hands together, not looking you in the eye.
“So-feee-a.”
“Hola, Sofia (Hi, Sofia). Tu nombre es muy bonito (Your name is very beautiful). ¿Cuántos años tienes (How old are you)?”
“Dos (Two)!” she announced, holding up two fingers. “Sí, dos (Yes, two)!”
“Muy bien (Very good). Te estás divirtiendo jugando con tus hermanos y primos (Are you having fun playing with your siblings and cousins)?”
“Sí, corren rápido (Yes, they run fast).”
Looking over at Javi, there was a soft look on his face, you asking him, “¿Cómo se dice (How do you say) they run too fast for you?”
He was just staring, your eyebrows creasing, jabbing him in the side with your elbow, “Javi?”
“What…?” he asked.
“¿Cómo se dice (How do you say) they run too fast for you?”
“Oh, uh, corren muy rápido para ti?”
Nodding, your attention moved back to the child. “¿Corren muy rápido para ti?” you asked her.
“Sí, muy rápido (Yes, very fast).”
“Lo siento (I’m sorry) ¿Cuál es tu color favorito (What’s your favorite color)?
She tugged on her dress. “Rosadooo (Pink)! Y amarillooo (And yellow)!”
Her answer made you giggle.
“También me encantan esos colores (I love those colors, too).”
Sofia frowned. “Tengo sed (I’m thirsty).”
“Oh, um, Javi.” You looked at him. “Can you tell her we’ll take her to her mom?”
He set his beer down on the grass, straightening and holding out his arms. “Ven aquí, preciosa, te llevaremos a tu mamá (Come here, precious, we will take you to your mom),” he said in that sweet voice he always used with the animals, taking the child from you.
He held her easily in one arm, hearing him speaking softly to her in Spanish as he walked her over to her mom at the picnic table—your eyes had gone wide, gulping as you took him in, your ovaries going haywire at how perfect he looked; how natural, thinking those broad shoulders of his would come in handy to carry more than one baby.
Oh.
Oh no.
You had to fan yourself with your hand, it suddenly feeling very hot, doing your best to ignore the ancient, primal part of your brain screaming that he was the perfect man to father your children, and he needed to put one in you right that second—the temptation to toss your birth control when you got home was too damn high.
Dear god, was this baby fever? Were you experiencing baby fever?
The way arousal was burning in your gut and making your pussy throb with need told you, yes, you did, in fact, have baby fucking fever.
You were so unbelievably horny, annoyed it was at the most inopportune time, needing to go splash some cold water on your face to calm yourself down.
Javi was returning to you, your eyes darting away as you said when he was close, “I’m, um, gonna go to the bathroom real quick.” Pointing with your thumbs toward the house. “I’ll be back.”
He was in front of you, his hands rubbing your upper arms, your body shivering at the contact.
“Are you okay?” he asked with a concerned look.
“Yeah,” you said a little too quickly. “Fucking fantastic, not horny at all, no siree, perfectly fine. I’ll be back.”
“Okay…?”
You practically bolted away from him and into the house, passing the guest bathroom to go to the one in Javi’s room. Two of his tías and a daughter-in-law were in the kitchen making side dishes, their husbands in the living room, relaxing in the air conditioning, and watching something on the television.
Safely locked away in Javi’s en suite, you took care of your needs and washed your hands, leaving the faucet running and turning the temperature as cold as possible. Leaning over the sink, you splashed some water on your face, which helped a little, still feeling on edge as you walked over to get a small towel out of the in-wall cabinet to dry off.
The sink was turned off, staring at yourself in the mirror. “We will get married, we will buy a house, and then we will have babies,” you said out loud. “Don’t you dare give in just because your boyfriend is a goddamn DILF without the children. Oh, god,” you whined. “He’s going to be such a fucking DILF! Why does he have to be so sexy?! We can’t even fuck until later. Focus!” You pointed your finger at yourself in the reflection. “No babies, no matter how fucking tempting it is, no. Cool your fucking jets. You’ve got this.” Nodding your head once, you turned to toss the dirtied towel into a nearby hamper.
Unlocking the door, you pulled it open, squeaking in surprise when the hulking figure of your boyfriend was right there, immediately invading your space, his hand on your jaw as he crushed his lips to yours, his other arm wrapped around your back—walking you backward, kissing you like his life depended on it, his tongue quickly pressing into your mouth to tangle with your own, your hands landing in his hair, gripping the soft strands between your fingers.
He kicked the door shut, his lips not leaving yours as he reached behind him to lock it.
The horniness was back at full force, wanting him, no, needing him to ease the ache between your legs, snaking your hand down his front, finding his cock hard under his navy blue slacks, his boxer briefs making it stretch up at an angle toward his belt, Javi groaning as you stroked him over his pants.
He pushed you back against the bathroom counter, his hips pressing into you, moaning as his tongue plundered your mouth.
A moment of clarity hit you, remembering where you were and the many people outside his bedroom door, reluctantly breaking the kiss to say, “Javi, your family’s in the other room.”
Kissing you again, his words were muffled, “I locked the bedroom door.” He squeezed your breast, his other hand grabbing your ass.
Pulling back again, he chased your lips, moving your head to dodge him. “We can’t fuck with them out there, Javier.”
There was a grumpy expression on his face as he stared at you. “Why not?”
“They could hear us?”
“They won’t—we’ll be quick and quiet. Nobody will know.” He licked his plush lips, your attention drawn to them.
There was his bedroom and the entryway separating you from everyone else, so as long as you weren’t too loud… Christ, were you really thinking about fucking in a house full of people? Yes, you were, knowing Javi would make it so good—remembering how he said you didn’t care where he did it as long as he came inside you, which was apparently true, your resolve disappearing in an instant, wanting him so fucking bad nothing else mattered.
“Fuck, okay—a quickie, Javier, and you better make sure I’m not too loud,” you said, poking his chest. “God, I’m so fucking horny.”
His mouth was on yours again, his hands cupping your breasts through your shirt, his lips moved to your jaw, saying into your skin, “I know you’re horny, baby—” He nibbled on your chin. “—could tell outside.” His mouth was against your neck, kissing down it, his hand moving between your legs, making you moan when he rubbed over your sex. “You think I’m a DILF.” He sucked on your pulse point before his head popped up with a confused look, “What the fuck is a DILF?”
“Oh god, you heard my pep talk.” Embarrassment had you covering your face with your hands, Javi immediately prying them off, looking at you fondly.
“Don’t be embarrassed, Cielito,” he said, kissing you quickly. “I loved the pep talk—we needed the pep talk ‘cause seeing you with the baby fucked me up, too. You didn’t answer my question, what’s a DILF?”
“You know a MILF is a mother I’d like to fuck, so a DILF is a dad I’d like to fuck—you’re a fuckin’ future dad I’d like to fuck.”
He kissed you, smiling into it. “You’re in luck,” he said, ending the sentence with a nip to your bottom lip. Stepping back, he spun you around to have your front to the counter, his body flush with yours, seeing you both in the mirror with his lips at your ear, his dark eyes meeting your gaze in the reflection. “You get to fuck me,” he said in a deep timbre that had tingles moving down your spine.
“Good,” you replied, pushing your ass back into his hard cock. “I need you to fuck me, Papí.”
“Fuck,” he groaned, seeing his throat bob as he swallowed. His body left yours, pulling you with him as he took two steps back. “Arms on the counter, baby,” he rasped, his big hand sliding up your spine and gently pushing you forward, bending at your waist to rest your forearms on the countertop beside the sink. “Fucking love these shorts.” His hand came down hard on your asscheek in a loud smack, your cunt clenching, gasping his name.
“You’re also gonna love what’s under them,” you purred.
Hooking his thumbs under the waistband, his gaze was on yours in the mirror, smirking under his mustache. “The red one?” he asked.
“You’ll see.”
He tugged the bike shorts down, the air cool as it hit your bare skin, Javi sucking in a breath, his eyes locked on the red thong you’d worn, unable to keep himself from squeezing handfuls of your ass. “I love you so fucking much—fuck, it’s pretty.” He glanced up to continue, “Thank you for spoiling me today, mi amor (my love).”
Smiling, you replied, “You’re welcome, Javi. Now please fuck me.” You wiggled your hips.
“Are you needy for me, Cielito?” he asked, his hands going to the front of his pants, hearing the clink of his belt and the teeth of his zipper coming apart.
“Needy in the sense that I need your dick inside me right now, and we can save the ass worship for later.”
He chuckled, his slacks and underwear getting shoved down his thighs. “I’ll put my dick inside you, then,” he said, using one hand to pull the soaked fabric of your thong to the side, spitting on the fingers of his other to slick up his cock.
Anticipation was thrumming in your veins, your pussy weeping for him, needing Javi to fill your achingly empty center in the way only he could satisfy. He didn’t waste any more time, pressing the tip of his length to your sopping entrance, gasping yes as he started pushing in, your head dropping between your shoulders, resting your forehead on your crossed arms in front of you. His hands had a tight grip on your hips, cursing under his breath as he slid home in one smooth thrust, making you moan when he bottomed out—it felt so fucking good, his thick cock stretching your tight walls, carving out space inside you while your cunt tried to suck him in deeper, feeling so goddamn full.
The hem of his dress shirt was brushing against your ass, Javi pulling almost all the way out, and thrusting back in hard enough to knock the air from your lungs, setting up a punishing pace that had your eyes rolling back in your head.
“You’re so fucking wet,” he groaned. “You feel so good.”
This was going to be hard and fast, the goal to get off as quickly as possible.
You could hear the wet slap of his hips connecting with your ass, the flesh jiggling—his hand landed on your asscheek hard enough the smack echoed in the small room, your pussy squeezing him tight as you moaned. Looking up, you saw him behind you in the mirror, his mouth slack, eyes dark and half-lidded, his attention on you, the first few buttons on his white shirt undone, seeing the flush crawling up his chest to his beautiful neck, the taut skin glistening in sweat.
“Does it turn you on, baby,” he asked through his teeth, pistoning into you, “thinking about me as a dad?”
The beginning threads of your orgasm were starting to weave in your belly, feeling the familiar heat growing.
He slapped your ass again. “Answer me, Cielito.”
“Yes,” you gasped, your words stuttering from the pounding, “Fuck, it’s so good, Javi. It turns me on—turns me on so fucking much,” you babbled. “You’re fucking me so good. Harder, Javi.”
“You want it harder, mi amor (my love)?”
“Yes.”
Bending over your back, his arm went under you and across your chest, pulling you up to stand. His thrusts didn’t wane, shoving your shirt up your chest one-handed to reveal one bra-covered breast, tugging the cup down to pinch your stiff nipple, the sensations shooting straight to your pussy.
He kissed the side of your neck, grunting in exertion.
“You really want it harder?” he asked breathily in your ear.
“Yes, Papí,” you moaned.
His big hands moved, grabbing your biceps near your elbows, pulling you back as he thrust forward, fucking you so hard your mouth was open, gasping out moans. Your mind was a pleasure-addled mess, unable to think about anything except how good he was fucking you—the knot in your belly was getting tighter and tighter, hotter and hotter, until euphoria exploded outward from your core, coming with a shout of Javi’s name that was quickly muffled by his hand covering your mouth.
“Shhh, Cielito—such a good fucking girl for me” Your cunt had clenched up so tight his rhythm slowed to a grind, letting you feel every ridge and vein on his cock as he worked you through your high. His head was beside yours, speaking in your ear, “I know it’s good, baby—need you to be quiet, just ride it out.” He kissed your neck again, his free hand rubbing over your stomach and up to squeeze your breast. “I love you so fucking much.”
Her eyes were closed, her chest heaving after climaxing, Javier waiting for her cunt to stop fluttering around him, his throbbing cock slowly moving in and out of her, it wetter where they were joined.
He loved watching her come and knowing he was the one that got her there, pride always swelling inside him that he made her feel so good.
She was saying something, not making out the words with his large hand over her mouth, quickly removing it.
“What’s that?” he asked, kissing just behind her ear.
Her eyes blinked open, smiling dreamily at him in the mirror.
“I said I love you, too,” her rough voice responded.
One sentence, and it had his body going warm, unable to keep from smiling at her with how fucking happy she made him.
He was close to his end, the heat in the base of his spine threatening to explode with how fucking gone he was on her. All he could think about was everything she’d done for him that day, all of the things, big and small, showing him without her saying it how much she loved him, and he wanted to give her the entire fucking world—it was more than what she deserved, but that wasn’t possible so he was settling with giving her such good dick, it made her drool.
“You’re cute when you’re fucked out of your mind,” he said, placing a kiss on the spot where her shoulder met her neck. Her aftershocks had finally ended, and it was his turn. “I’m gonna move you,” he told her. She gasped when he pulled out, getting her closer to the counter where he turned her to face him, bending to tug down her shorts and underwear, impatiently taking off her shoe to get one of her legs free. When he stood back up, he gripped her bare thighs, grunting as he lifted her onto the counter's edge, spreading her legs to make space for himself.
She was wide open for him, seeing the puffy lips of her pussy shining in the light, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip, wishing he had time to taste her. She leaned back on her arms, Javier taking his place in the cradle of her thighs, quickly sheathing himself back in her wet heat.
“Fuck, that’s good,” he groaned, slowly rocking deep inside her.
Her legs wrapped around his middle to lock at the small of his back, her cunt warm and welcoming, beckoning him to come, feeling the build low in his belly.
There was a need to have her like this, his lips smashing into hers in a searing kiss, swallowing her moans as he started moving faster. His hand held her face, the other pushing her shirt all the way up her chest to get both of her breasts free from her bra, palming the bare skin and tweaking her pebbled nipples while his tongue slid along hers in the way he knew made her toes curl.
Her soft sounds and his rougher ones were quieted with their mouths being connected, his hips swinging into her with strong, even thrusts, hearing the wet suck of her pussy, the slick friction of her velvety walls pushing him closer to his release.
She put all of her weight on one of her arms, her free hand grabbing his hair to pull his head back, her lips wetly trailing along his jaw, her voice saying into his skin, “It’s so good, Javi—you feel so fucking good inside me.” Her tongue licked up the column of his throat, and it had his eyes rolling back, his rhythm stuttering for a second.
“Jesus Christ,” he panted, her mouth sucking a mark on his jugular. “You’re gonna make me come.” The muscles in his abdomen were beginning to tighten.
His pace sped up, able to tell he was fucking her good when her head fell back, and her sounds started getting loud enough he had to cover her mouth again.
“It feel good, Cielito?” he asked roughly. “You like knowing you’re gonna make me come? That this pretty fucking pussy is gonna milk me dry? You love that I’m gonna give you what you want and fill you up—stuff you full of my come?” He licked his lips. “Bet you wish you weren’t on birth control.” Her moan was muffled, squeezing her eyes shut, causing a jolt to run through him.
Seeing her earlier with the baby had ignited a fire inside him, something instinctual telling him he needed to give her one of her own—that they needed one of their own, and he wouldn’t be satisfied until he fucked his come deep inside her. From the look on her face, she was also feeling some type of way, which was why he’d followed her into the house, her pep talk confirming he was right. There had been no way for them to wait until they got home to fuck, he was too riled up, and she wasn’t any better.
She looked at him, her eyes glazed over in lust, a sheen of sweat coating her forehead, looking absolutely fuck drunk as she tried to say something he couldn’t make out, still fucking in and out of her.
He lifted his hand.
“What?” he asked through heavy breaths.
She sounded wrecked. “Fuck a baby into me—please,” she begged.
The sentence was his undoing, a strangled noise ripping from his throat, his head falling against her shoulder, his balls tightening, and cock thickening—two more quick strokes before he was burying himself to the hilt, sinking his teeth into her flesh over her shirt as he came so hard his vision went white and he lost hearing in his left ear.
He rolled his hips, working his spend as deep as he could get it, the overstimulation causing a whispery hiss to leave his lips before he finally stilled, his body so relaxed he slumped into her. A euphoric haze came over him, his mind as slow as molasses.
Her free hand stroked through his sweat-damp hair, her nails scratching lovingly along his scalp, which felt so good, he was humming appreciatively.
A few minutes passed, and she finally broke the silence to croak out, “Well, that was unexpected.”
His ear was still ringing, lifting his head to look at her. “What was unexpected?” he asked.
“The sex—” She delightedly smiled, poking his nose. “—and your massive fucking breeding kink.”
Confusion came over his face.
“My what?” he asked.
“For a man who has had a lot of sex, and I mean a lot, it’s always surprising when you don’t know a sex thing.” She pushed some of his hair off of his forehead. “Your breeding kink; it gets you off thinking about knocking me up.”
He felt the blood rush to his cheeks, looking away from her.
“Shit, I didn’t want you to know…” He scratched at the back of his neck.
Her hand gently moved his face to meet her eyes, her brows furrowed.
“Why didn’t you want me to know?”
Letting out a long sigh, he answered truthfully, “I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I’m fine with waiting,” he quickly added. “Really fucking fine with it, especially after this morning, but the fantasy…”
“Really gets you going. Wanna know a secret?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ve got a massive breeding kink, too. I like to imagine you getting me pregnant when we fuck, and also, the whole there being a one percent chance that you actually could really gets me going.”
“Fuck,” he breathed, rubbing his hands over her thighs. “So, it’s okay..?”
She smiled, resting her palm on his cheek. “Oh yeah. It’s more than okay. We can have our fantasy for now, but my god, imagine how good the sex will be when we’re actually trying.”
That had arousal stirring in his belly. “Fuck,” he breathed again. Cupping her cheeks, he said, “I don’t know how I got so fucking lucky with you, but you’re perfect, and I love you so fucking much. Eres la mejor novia del mundo y soy feliz de compartir cada instante de mi vida a tu lado (You’re the best girlfriend in the whole world and I’m happy to share each moment of my life by your side).” He kissed her softly, murmuring into her lips, “Siempre has sido tú, incluso antes de conocerte, y siempre serás la elegida porque eres el amor de mi vida y tú eres la única para mí (It has always been you, even before I knew you, and it will always be you because you are the love of my life and you are the only one for me).”
She pulled back to look him in the eyes with a smile.
“I think you’re the best boyfriend in the world, and I’m happy I get to spend my life with you and have your babies.” She pecked him on the lips. “It’s cheesy,” she continued. “But before I met you, it felt like something was missing in my life, you know? And now I feel like everything is right—you feel right; you were what I was missing,” she said, poking him over his heart. Javier grabbed her hand to kiss her knuckles, listening to her speak. “So, you’ve always been it for me, always, and life just waited for us to both be lost before allowing us to finally find each other.” She shrugged. “You’re it for me, Javier Peña—you’ve always been it; yesterday, today, tomorrow, a year from now, it’s always going to be you because I was meant for you, and you were meant for me. In summary, I love you so fucking much, too.”
He chuckled, kissing her a little harder this time, feeling so happy he thought he might be floating.
He knew she was the love of his life—knew it with every fiber of his being, and he would spend the rest of his days with her just to prove it.
When your lungs begged for air, you broke the kiss, Javi smiling so big his dimple was showing, the love for you clear in his gaze.
“Today was good?” you asked.
“Today was fucking amazing.”
“Good, good,” you nodded. “Javi?”
“Yes, Cielito?” His hands were skating up and down your bare thighs.
“I have another surprise for you that can’t happen until tomorrow…”
“Baby, you’ve done so much. I don’t need anything else.” He quickly kissed you.
“Oh, you’re gonna really fucking want this.”
His eyebrow lifted, looking curious.
“What is it?”
“Well, after a lot of thinking and working up my courage, I thought maybe you’d wanna try fucking my ass?”
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#pedro pascal#javier peña#javier peña/reader#javier peña x you#javier peña x reader#javier peña fanfiction#javier peña smut#wheresarizona writes#learning to live series
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been on a javier peña binge and your joel boy dad drabble made my mind think...
javier peña being a boy dad? 🥺🥺🥺
Javier Peña x f!reader
Warnings: fluff
A/N: this is too precious my darling, thank you for this lovely request ❤️
0.7k words
Javier never saw himself as a father, he assumed it would happen eventually as it seemed to happen to everyone, although he never really thought he had the slightest talent for it. Looking back at his childhood memories and his own relationship with his father, he didn't know if he actually had in him to have a decent role in fatherhood. When you broke the news to him, that you were carrying his baby, Javi had to sit down and take a huge breath. Life was simpler at that time, you and him were about to get married, living a quiet and easy life in Laredo, away from the dangerous streets of Colombia and drug cartels. And yet, he felt more challenged than never. He was used to dealing with bad guys and crime, he had been trained for that, however, he hadn't been trained to handle little babies, diaper changes or preparing formula. And suddenly, the man who would never shy away from Pablo Escobar, was terrified of a baby.
He wouldn't run away from his responsibility at all, Javier wasn't like that, he was a good soon-to-be husband and followed you to every single one of your appointments, he made sure to remodel the baby room as best as you wanted him to. When you both picked a name Gabriel, but eventually only called him Gabe in a short and sweet way, Javi was still getting used to the idea, to know he was having a boy, it both amused and scared him. On one hand, he knew exactly what he never wanted to do to his son, taking in the shaky relationship he had with Chucho, but he also knew exactly things he didn't want to see Gabe doing, because he had done it before and just now that he was about to become a dad, he realized how painful it was to his own.
Javi would rest his head on your stomach every single night, sighing happily as he talked to his sweet little Gabe, telling him the wonderful things he would meet in the world in a little while. Javier had seen the worst, so he wanted nothing but to see his son meeting the best things he could. He loved that little thing more than he ever thought it would be possible, and he couldn't wait to see his little face.
When Gabe was born, Javi was the happiest he'd ever felt, of course things were challenging and scary, but overall, he was enjoying fatherhood much more than he thought he would.
The years passed by fast and his little Gabe was three now. He was adorable, looking a lot like you, same beautiful smile, and hair, getting only the brown eyes from his daddy, which was your doom as you couldn't handle Javi's puppy eyes, let alone your son's.
Gabe and his dad, shared a special bond, as the little boy grew more and more into a ranch boy just like Javier was at his age, he would wait by the fence every single afternoon just to see his daddy arrive, Javier would pick him up and they would go pet the horses, because Gabe loved them, but they were still big and scary for him to go alone. Javi loved that kind of welcome home tradition, the only times his boy hadn't welcomed him were the ones he was sick, so it filled him with happiness to get home and see him by the fence. The moment he saw his daddy's truck, he clapped excitedly and rushed to Javi as soon as he was out of the car
"Daddy!!!!" He squealed at the top of his little lungs and smiled big as he was lifted up. He wrapped his arms around Javier's neck and snuggled him
"Let's play horses, daddy!" He tilted his head adorably and Javi agreed, taking his boy to the stables. He would never be able to say no to his son, he loved him, just as Gabe loved him. You had given Javier Peña a perfect family and he wanted to show you his gratitude every single day for the rest of his life, because now, it was definitely worth living.
____
A/N: I want to give Javi a beautiful family too 🥺
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x y/n#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal imagine#pedro pascal drabble#pedro pascal one shot#javier peña#javier peña x reader#javier peña x you#javier peña x y/n#javier peña fanfiction#javier peña fanfic#javier peña imagine#javier peña drabble#javier peña one shot
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Dreaming of You
Chapter five: I Get High On Your Memory
summary: An otherwise depressing night takes a turn when a pair of warm brown eyes belonging to a charming stranger lock with yours. Years later, at a different time of your life, a certain pair of brown eyes find their way back into your life.
word count: 3.9k
rating: E
pairing: Javier Peña x afab!reader
note: No use of (y/n). This has not been beta nor proof read and English is not my native language.
Can also be read on ao3. Listen to the playlist.
(18+ minors, please don't interact)
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…I get high on the memory that you sent through me
I get high remembering how good you feel
I deliberately think of you
And every little thing you do
I get aroused, high on the cloud whenever I want you…
Javier’s thoughts are all over the place as he leaves the bookstore. Of all the women his dad could have been talking about when he said that a woman working in the little charity bookstore on Main Street had mentioned that she had met him he would never have guessed that it was going to be you. He is a little surprised that you even remember him, but he can’t help but feel glad that you do, cause he sure hasn’t forgotten you.
He actually remembers you better than he probably should. He had gotten himself off to the memory of you multiple times after your night together. It had been a good night, and there was no doubt that he found you very attractive, but there was something more to it, something about that short encounter with you back in 92’ that had stuck with him. There was just something about that night with you that had been different, maybe it was because he had just been Javi that night. He had been agent Peña for so long at that point…
And now you live here in Laredo, married to Bruce fucking Price of all people, looking just as beautiful as he remembers you. Javier doesn’t know what to think about all this, or if he even should think anything about it. He doesn’t actually know you, after all.
He knows Bruce Price though. He went to school with him. They had never been close, ran in different crowds, but they had been on friendly enough terms. Javier shakes his head, pulling out a cigarette and his lighter, placing the cigarette between his lips. It’s too fucking early but he suddenly feels desperate for a drink. He sighs at himself before cupping his hand around the unlit cigarette, flicking his lighter as he sucks fire into the tobacco, letting the smoke escape through his nose with a deep sigh.
---
You roll into your driveway a little after noon, your shifts at the store are never long. You are still feeling a little shell-shocked by the encounter with Javier this morning. You don’t know how you’re feeling, or even how you should be feeling so you decide to try and not think about him, even though it is difficult. You lock your car and rush inside, it’s boiling outside and you could use something cold to drink. You pour yourself a tall glass of lemonade from the fridge before going outside to the backyard patio, to drink your lemonade and smoke, the book you’re currently reading tucked under your arm. Bailey follows you and lays down at your feet. You smile at her, and she soon starts to snore softly, the heat always tiring her out.
You start reading, but you have a hard time concentrating, you keep reading the same paragraphs over and over and your book is soon discharged. You instead look out over your backyard, you had no prior experience with gardening but you are proud of the few things you have managed to plant. Your eyes land on the tall sunflowers that are gently nodding their big, yellow flowerheads in the mild wind. They are your pride and glory and the first thing you knew you wanted to plant when you moved into the house. You have always loved sunflowers, but now all they do is remind you of Javier again.
You sigh as you ash your cigarette, so deeply lost in your thoughts that you don’t hear the car pulling up in your driveway or the front door opening. You jump a little in your seat as you are being pulled out of your daze by Bruce’s voice as he steps out on the patio. It is way too early for him to be home, he is usually earliest back around five or six in the afternoon, often first coming back home way later, you get worried that something has happened, but he doesn’t look distressed in the slightest.
“Hey, honey.” He says as he walks over to you, planting a kiss on the top of your head.
“Hi, you’re home early.” You say, looking up at your husband.
“Yeah, but I will have to go back to the office again. We are having some problems with some of the associates in London, so I will have to stay late tonight. I will probably first come home after you have gone to bed, so I thought I would come home and have lunch with you, you haven’t eaten yet have you?”
“Oh…” You are sad to hear that he has problems at work and that he has to stay late in the office, but it is not unusual, your husband seems to be constantly busy with work. “You should have called before you left, I could have gotten something ready for us.” You say, but he just shakes his head.
“Nah, I wanted to surprise you, besides I picked something up on the way, your favorite.”
You smile up at him, it is moments like this that you remind yourself that your life here in Laredo isn’t all that bad. “Sounds good.” You tell him with a smile.
“Come on, let’s eat, I have about an hour before I’ll need to drive back.” He says, reaching out his hand for you to help you up from the patio floor.
You are soon sitting around the dinner table, takeout boxes between the two of you as you eat your lunch.
“How’s your day been?” Bruce asks you as he pours himself some water.
“Oh, you know, uneventful like always.” You say, feeling a knot in your stomach, your day has not been as uneventful as always, you are once again reminded of your meeting with Javier, but you act like nothing. It should not have been an eventful meeting, it is only your silly mind that makes it into a bigger deal than it is.
“I feel like that is always what you answer.” Bruce says as he sets his water down.
“Well, my days just happen to be uneventful, what do you want me to say?” You say it casually, but you suddenly feel defensive, he knows that you don’t have much going on here, and you really don’t know how he expects you to give him a different answer with how your life is, he is the one who always shuts the idea of you getting a ‘real’ job down. You know that your life isn’t exciting, you are the one living it after all. You don’t want to admit it to him but you are bored, but most of all, you are lonely. It is something you are often trying to hide from him, but it is something that you are feeling on a daily basis. You don’t get to see your husband much and you don’t have any friends here, still the outsider.
It is scary how slowly time passes when you’re feeling lonely. It feels like all you do these days, besides your few hours at the bookstore and your daily walks with Bailey, is sit at home, reading or listening to music, waiting for Bruce to come back home while you smoke too many cigarettes just to try to keep the dark, gloomy feeling of loneliness at bay but with little success.
This hour with him, which should be a nice little moment together, somehow managed to be twisted into you feeling sad again. You know that he didn’t have any bad intentions when he said what he said, but his words still manage to hurt you. That's the thing with Bruce, he will say things that hurt you, but then you will feel bad for feeling hurt because you know that he never means to hurt you on purpose.
“I don’t know…” He just says, before strategically filling his mouth with food, so as to not have to come up with a better answer.
The two of you continue eating in silence for a while after this. You hate how quickly the mood has changed, you are still feeling sad and slightly hurt but you try to push through, forcing a smile on your face.
“At least lunch was a nice surprise.” You break the silence. Bruce smiles immediately at your words like the tension from before had never happened.
“I’m glad.” He says, extending his hand over the table for you to take. You sigh mentally, but you take his hand nevertheless, trying your best to smile back at him.
“Listen, I promise that I’ll get home early tomorrow, and then I’m taking you out to dinner and we will have a lovely evening, okay?” He says as he gives your hand a little squeeze.
“Okay.” You say. That actually sounds really nice, and now you are back to feeling bad for getting upset. “I just… I just feel lonely, that’s all.” You admit, feeling the familiar sting in your eyes that warns that tears are pressing on, you hate how weak your voice is as you say this, but it feels so good to finally say it out loud, a few tears falling from your eyes.
He squeezes your hand again. “It looks like I will have to fly over to get this problem fixed, that was actually what I wanted to tell you over lunch, but I promise that I will try and be home more after I come back again, okay?”
“Okay.” You say, a little sad that he has to leave you again so soon after you have admitted to feeling lonely, but you also know that it is his job and even though he surely could get someone else to do it he’d rather do it himself. You will take what you can get.
---
Javier removes his dusty boots before stepping through the screen door and into the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water, which he quickly downs, setting the now empty glass down on the counter before walking into the living room. He throws himself down into one of the comfy armchairs with a sigh, rubbing his hands over his face before fishing out his lighter from his pocket, he absentmindedly starts to click it on and off, the little orange flame disappearing and reappearing again and again. He has just finished his work on the ranch for the day, feeling tired and worn out.
He is alone in the house, Chucho left in the morning for an overnight fishing trip with some of his old fishing buddies. It is weird, Javier has never had a problem with being alone before, but Colombia must have changed him. The ranch house feels too big when it’s just him–nothing to distract him from his own thoughts now that the work for the day is done.
Now his thoughts get to run wild, and since he saw and talked to you yesterday, they keep coming back to you. His thoughts keep circling back to your night together. The memory of how sweet and peaceful you had looked when he had walked back into your bedroom and found you already asleep after you had slept together. He remembers how badly he had wanted to crawl into the bed and lay down next to you and let sleep overtake him too.
He had not done that though, instead, he had sneaked out, leaving you without even as much as a goodbye, it was not because you didn’t deserve a goodbye—because you definitely did. It was just that he didn’t have it in him. That night with you had just been a little too good, he had enjoyed your conversations a little too much. He would be back on a flight to Colombia only a week later, and he would be agent Peña again, and the Javi he had been with you would be gone again.
So he had just left, picked up his clothes from the floor, and got dressed, but not before he had picked up your discarded dress from the floor too. He had neatly folded the delicate fabric and placed it on the little table next to your dresser. He was leaving your apartment to become a faint memory to you, but for some reason, he wasn’t able to do the same with you.
You kept tormenting his mind. He had figured that it must stem from the fact that he just had walked out without saying goodbye. Javier might have a reputation as a libertine skirt chaser, and that might also be true, but he was raised better than to leave in the middle of the night like that.
Javier doesn’t think he has given anyone flowers since he was a kid and gave his mother flowers on Mother’s Day unless you count a corsage at prom, but he had suddenly gotten this urge to send you some, and when he had seen the bouquet of bright, beautiful sunflowers as he had walked by a flower shop, he just knew that he had to get them for you. You had not deserved some pendejo like him walking out on you like that, and if it could help him feel like not as big of an asshole as he usually feels that would be nice too, but most of all he had just wanted to thank you for the nice night you had had together. At the time it had been a long time since he had had a night so pleasant and carefree, and he honestly doesn’t think he has had one since.
He runs a hand through his hair and sighs, he needs a distraction. In Colombia, he would have gotten himself laid, but he ain’t gonna do that here. Instead he gets up and walks to the phone, dialing Alvaro’s number to hear if wants to meet him for a drink at El Toro instead.
---
You are met with the cool night air as you step out of the restaurant. Bruce takes your hand in his and you begin to walk down the sidewalk. He had parked the car a few blocks down the street, so you start walking hand in hand. The temperature has dropped from when you left home and the knee-length slip dress you’re wearing is not doing much to warm you, and a cold shiver runs over your arms. You would love it if Bruce would put his blazer around your shoulders, but he doesn’t seem to realize that you are cold, and you, for some reason, don’t ask him for the jacket, even though you know that he would give it to you if you did.
You wrap your free arm around yourself in an attempt to warm yourself without making it too obvious that you’re cold. If you had been a little smarter you would have brought a cardigan or a jacket, but it had been so hot earlier when you got ready that you hadn’t even given it a thought. Bruce begins to talk about his upcoming business trip to London, but you aren’t really listening, more focused on the sound of your heels clicking on the concrete as you try to pick up your pace to make the trip to the car go by faster, but with little luck as Bruce doesn’t seem to be in a hurry at all.
You keep your gaze fixated on the pavement, Bruce’s words going in through one ear and out the other as you get lost in your own thoughts. You feel a little bad that you aren’t listening to him, but you are tired, and most of what he is saying is just a repetition from your dinner conversation anyway. You had really looked forward to this dinner, Bruce had made it sound like it would be a type of apology for so often working late and to make you feel better after confessing that you are feeling lonely here in Laredo, but it had not been like you had hoped. He had kept talking about work no matter how hard you had tried to turn the conversation in another direction.
Your eyes focus more on the cracks and crevices in the concrete than anything else until you hear a man’s voice calling out a little further down the pavement, making you look up. You immediately recognize the man as Alvaro, one of Bruce’s old friends; they used to play soccer together back in high school.
You like Alvaro, he’s definitely one of Bruce’s friends you like best, but it is his companion that catches your eye. Wearing a pair of dark blue jeans and the same burnt umber leather jacket as he had back when you first met him, Javier…
“Price! What a pleasant surprise.” Alvaro exclaims, a smile spreading on his lips as you and Bruce approach. “And Mrs.” He adds, offering you a warm smile as you and Bruce now have reached them. You smile back, trying to look as normal as possible but your heart is suddenly feeling like it is going at a hundred miles a second.
Your stomach drops as Javier’s eyes meet yours and you feel how your grip on Bruce’s hand loosens and you, without even thinking about it, step a little away from your husband as you let your hand slip out of his, letting you wrap your arms around yourself.
“Long time no see.” Bruce says, clapping Alvaro on the upper arm companionably before turning to Javier. “And Peña! Thought I heard something about you coming back, it’s good to see you, man.”
Javier tears his eyes away from you to look at Bruce. You remember how Javier had asked you to say hi to Bruce for him, but you hadn’t done it. It felt too weird to mention Javier to Bruce.
“Yeah, you too.” Javier gives him a tight-lipped smile, one that doesn’t reach his eyes.
Bruce places a hand on your back, gesturing to you with the other to introduce you to the man. “This is my wife.” He says with a proud smile on his face, but you don’t see it, you are way too dumbstruck at the moment, the feeling of Bruce’s hand on your back while Javier stands in front of you feels weird, a nauseous feeling of guilt spreading in your chest and stomach. You have not done anything wrong, but the dream you had about Javier last week is gnawing at you. You know that you can’t control your dreams but you can’t help but feel guilty, the memory of Javier’s touch is like an intrusive thought that has been plaguing you since he had come back into your memory.
Bruce tells Javier your name, not aware that the other man already knows it. “This is Javier, we went to school together.” Bruce tells you, and Javier’s gaze goes back to you, he extends his hands for you to shake, like the two of you are meeting for the very first time.
“Nice to meet you.” He says, the deep baritone of his voice sending a shiver down your spine, it is like you are hit by an electric shock when his big, warm hand engulfs your smaller one.
“You too.” You answer. You think you manage to sound somewhat normal despite feeling anything but.
You let go of Javier’s hand, but the warm feeling of his touch lingers on your skin, your palm keeps tingling long after.
“It’s actually perfect timing that we ran into you guys.” Alvaro says before ashing his cigarette. “I’m throwing a little party on the 22nd, you two should totally come!”
“Ah, sorry man, sounds great, but I’ll be in England on the 22nd.” Bruce tells him, but you are only listening to their conversation with half an ear. It is first when you hear your name being spoken by Alvaro that you are being pulled out of the daze that Javier’s touch had sent you in.
“Sorry, I think I just got caught in my own thoughts there for a second.” You say, feeling a bit embarrassed, but Alvaro just smiles friendly at you.
“I just asked if you wouldn’t want to come anyway.”
You really appreciate Alvaro’s friendliness and attempt to make you feel welcome, but you still know you aren’t gonna come, he will probably be one of the few people you know, and the two of you are at most good acquaintances.
“It sounds nice, but I-” You start but you are interrupted by Bruce.
“That is a wonderful idea! You said you felt lonely right, this will be a good way to make some friends, right babe.” He says in a way too cheerful tone. You know that he means well, but you feel your stomach drop and embarrassment wash over you. You had told him about how you are feeling lonely in confidentiality and even though you know that it isn’t something to feel ashamed about you can’t help but feel embarrassed that Bruce just informed both Alvaro and Javier that you are feeling lonely and don’t have any friends…
Both of the other men seem to sense discomfort. Alvaro gives you a compassionate look in a way that expresses that it is more from Bruce’s clumsy words than the fact that you don’t have any friends here, and you are very thankful for that. Javier, on the other hand, sends Bruce a somber look, which your husband seems to miss entirely.
“Well, you don’t have to decide now but it would be nice if you came. I promise that there will be cooler people there than us two knuckleheads.” Alvaro says to you, pointing between himself and Javier at the last part. This finally makes you smile.
“I’ll think about it.” You promise him, smiling at Alvaro before stealing another glance at Javier. So he will be there, huh…
“Great.” Bruce says, completely unaware of how he had made you feel. “ It was great to see you guys, but I have to go to the office early tomorrow so we better get going.”
“Of course. We also can’t have your wife standing out here in the cold the whole night…” Javier says and you can’t help but notice how his strong jaw tenses.
“No, you’re right.” Bruce says, looking a little startled before looking back at you, finally noticing how you’re shivering, quickly slipping off his jacket to drape it over your shoulders.
“Thank you.” You mumble to him, but your thanks goes more to Javier than your husband.
“Don’t mention it babe.” Bruce smiles at you, unaware of the stern look Javier is sending him. Bruce bids the two men goodbye before placing his hand on the small of your back, leading you down the sidewalk, you sneak one last glance back over your shoulder, your eyes locking with Javier’s before you finally reach Bruce’s car and he disappears into the bar with Alvaro.
…High from the feeling you give me (high from the feeling you give me)
Even though you're not with me (though you're not with me)
Together, we made a memory (together, we made a memory)
What's wrong with a touch of ecstasy?...
I Get High, Freda Payne
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thoughts on the ironhide storyline?
Knights of the Golden Circle: the Atomic Robo arc so peak that it's singled out in the site preview blurb.
Well, I'm assuming you mean that, and there isn't an Ironhide RSA I missed. (I'd read it! I prefer the spinoff genre characters to the real-person teams, which may defeat the purpose of the title Real Science Adventures, but whatever.)
"Thoughts." That's vague. Well, I love the bonkers set-up. There are other arcs that can absolutely only be done once (Ghost of Station X, Savage Sword of Dr. Dinosaur, Vengeful Dead), but only this one has the quality of Brian + Scott leaning in like "Okay. We know. We swore that causality is sacred and there will be NO time shenanigans, and that's STILL true. But just this once we're going to bend our own rule slightly, because we really, really, really want our robot to get to be a cowboy. Thanks for understanding."
The art's fantastic. I'm glad this one made it under the wire for the era of pencil-lined Robo volumes because the subtle textures really complete the grungy dusty look. The colors, too. Robo's electric blue and vril's crystalline pink stand out like alien intrusions in the sepia-toned world. Mwah.
My first time reading, I felt like it was a cop-out on the stable time loop to make Ironhide real in his own right. But since then my opinion has reversed! It cultivates a real air of Old West legend for Robo to be preceded by whispers of a reputation so shrouded in mystery that he doesn't even know it. I now actually think it should've taken Robo until maybe his dozenth public superhuman feat to realize I May Be Contributing To The Legend Somewhat.
Robo's initial interest in Ironhide strikes me as a riff on kids latching onto representation in comics. Especially when characters "like you" are stereotyped or absent, so you imprint on someone who isn't supposed to be like you, but represents your personal experience way more. But I'm probably projecting there.
Paradoxically to my RSA opinions, I like historical cameos in Robo proper. Holliday + Reeves + Robo are a really fun trio. Helsie is a fine "final boss", but I'm glad more time was spent on Caldwell's gang to get our fill of saloon shootouts and train chases first.
As an aside—pulps have a tendency to pick a villain from an "anti-American" political group with little thought put toward their underlying ideologies. (Which is how you get "our blonde superhuman can out-punch the Nazi ubermensch, so there" and incoherent Soviet/Nazi team-ups.) I point this out to say that the writing in Robo is generally better than that. It may tiptoe around historical politics a little (Helsingard is a Nazi collaborator, the Knights used to be Confederates), but the pulpy cyborg plot keeps at least one throughline: these were people in the human trafficking business for power and profit. And of the legends of the old west, Bass Reeves would have some very strong convictions about that.
Honestly a weakness here is that the story gives you a lot of hints in place of explanations and just trusts you'll work it out. Like the FIFTEEN YEAR timeskip. I only NOW, writing this, realized that the dates on the wall (which make no sense as "where am I in history?" guesses) are probably reactor lifespan calculations.
It's a better problem to have than agonizing infodumps or actual plot holes, but in some cases I liked my initial assumptions better than the real answers! Like, I first thought he was using his own heart to power his gadgets, and that's what was killing him so fast. Would've been metal if true. (I guess he did rebuild himself to make that possible later.)
Well, even minus that. It's a tasty cowboy trope for the protagonist to know they're already dying (or I've just listened to Streets of Laredo too many times) and a great time travel trope for the ending to be a foregone conclusion and our protagonist to still fight like hell to the bitter end. Yesssss.
In a way, this is already how readers experience the historical stories, trying to piece together the cost for this preordained victory with scraps of historical knowledge and faith that it will all make sense eventually. But this time Robo's in on it, too.
#atomic robo#But enough about me anon. What do YOU think#no really. I have like 1.5 friends who know this comic. Every time I reread it I'm mostly just grinning maniacally to myself
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No Better Place - Chapter 22
Summary: Javi gets a sweet surprise.
Word count: 1100
Javi tossed his briefcase into the backseat and loosened his tie. He waved goodbye to one of the receptionists who was also getting in her car, and slid behind the wheel. He was getting used to the forty-five minute commute to and from work, but some days were better than others. The traffic had been a mess that morning due to some road construction on several streets downtown, and he hoped the workers had already knocked off for the day.
As he drove, he switched idly between radio stations. On the way to work, he often listened to NPR to catch up on the news, but going home he preferred music. He’d found three stations that played stuff he liked, which was way better than his choices in Laredo.
When he saw the sign for Blue Ridge Ranch, he clicked off the radio and slowed the car. The transition from the road to the drive needed some work and if he wasn’t careful, the car would bottom out in the big pothole that had started to form. He made a mental note to ask the landlord to have it repaired. He also had to slow down because there had been several times one of the kids or Coco (who Chucho had claimed was “sad” that Javi had moved away, even though apparently she hadn’t cared when he lived in the apartment) had darted across in front of him; once he’d even come bumper to nose with a loose horse, a huge part draft named Emerson with a penchant for unlocking stalls and gates.
He parked under the carport and took his briefcase inside. Linus stretched and meowed once, then plopped back down on the back of the couch. Javi gave the cat a quick scratch on the head on his way to the bathroom. As he stepped out the back door, Coco flew across the side yard and slobbered all over him.
“Where’s Cassidy?,” he asked her as he bent down to ruffle her fur and rub her ears. It was a rhetorical question, not just because the dog couldn’t talk, but because there was only one place Cassidy would be at this time of the day: the barn.
He found her leaning against the fence that stretched across the back of the turnouts, watching Cricket roll in the dirt. He stood next to her and rested his arms on the top rail. “She does like to roll, doesn’t she?”
Cassidy laughed. “There’s an old saying, a horse is worth a hundred dollars for every time it can roll completely over. She did it five times one day, and accounting for inflation, that means she’s worth at least five grand.”
“Not bad,” Javi said. He reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She always put it into a neat ponytail or braid in the morning, but by the end of the day, it was starting to fall out.
“How was your day?,” she asked.
He sighed. “Same old, same old,” he said. “Two meetings that should have been memos, and a stack of paperwork an inch thick. How about you?”
She turned around so her back was to the fence. “Pretty good, actually,” she said. “The vet came out. You’ll be happy to know that the mare we picked up at the auction last week isn’t pregnant.” She paused and looked shyly at him. “But I am.”
Javi just stared at her for a moment, wondering if he’d actually heard what he thought he’d heard. As a huge, goofy grin spread across Cassidy’s face, he realized that he had. “Are you serious?,” he said.
She nodded. “Yeah, I kind of suspected it but I went to the drugstore today and picked up a test.” She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a test stick with a bright pink + mark on it. “I have an appointment with the doctor on Friday to confirm and find out how far along I am, but yeah, we’re having a baby.”
Javi wrapped his arms around her, speechless.
“Hey, Mr. P,” called a voice. He looked over Cassidy’s shoulder to see Alex, a fifteen year old who’d gone from missing school half the time and getting D’s and F’s to a solid B average and almost perfect attendance. He was thriving in the new program and Javi couldn’t have been prouder. Alex came out to the ranch two days a week after school and almost every Saturday.
“Hey, Alex, what’s up?” Javi called back.
“Not much,” Alex said. “I finished doing up the stalls, Miss Yates. Anything else you need?”
“No, you can just hang out till your ride comes,” Cassidy said. “There’s carrots in the feed room if you want to hand out treats.”
“Cool,” he said. He stole a glance at Javi’s hands around Cassidy’s waist and smirked. “I’ll leave you two alone.”
“Yeah, yeah, get out of here,” Javi said. When Alex had disappeared around the corner, he leaned down and kissed Cassidy’s forehead. “So, should we move the wedding up?”
Cassidy made a face. “And deprive my momma of the indignity of watching her daughter walk down the aisle in a maternity wedding dress?” she laughed. “Oh, no, baby, I am going to waddle up to the altar even if I need a wheelbarrow to carry my big old belly.”
Javi chuckled. “Well, you can do a combination wedding/baby shower, I guess,” he said. “Make things easier on everyone.”
“No way,” Cassidy retorted. “I’m getting two gifts out of everyone. Mom can host the baby shower, and Monica can host the bridal shower. I’m milking this for all it’s worth.”
Cricket ambled over to them and shoved her head in between them, her warm, sweet breath washing over them. “Are you jealous?” Javi asked. “You’re going to be a big sister, what do you think of that?” The mare snorted, blowing bits of half-chewed hay all over them.
“You had to ask,” Cassidy said, laughing as Javi wiped at the blobs of green that covered his nice white dress shirt.
He didn’t care, though. No shirt was worth more than the feeling he got, standing here with the woman he loved, the woman who’d just told him he was going to be a father. The sun was shining and they were surrounded by happy horses and happy kids. It was a long way from the streets of Colombia, but there was nowhere he’d rather be than right here. It had taken him a while, but Javier Pena finally felt like he was making a difference in the world.
#javier peña x ofc#javier pena fic#javier pena fanfiction#javier pena narcos#javier peña#horses#pedro pascal character fanfiction#happy ending
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Just Dumb Enough to Try
Chapter 15: Perfect Day
Word Count: 3.9k
Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader
Rating: Explicit (18+ only)
Tags / CW: swearing, cheating/infidelity, smoking, Javi dabbles in cannabis use, fluffy fluff, PIV sex, outdoor sex, spicy opinions on eggs, family of origin issues, abandonment issues, opening up, vulnerability, sexual coercion
Chapter Summary: Our heroes get stoned in the park and get brunch.
Notes: Chapter title from "Perfect Day" by Lou Reed. This song wrecked me after watching Our Flag Means Death, but I love it. I think it's really fitting for this chapter. There's sexual coercion at the end of the chapter, FYI, it's after the second dash / section divider, at the end, if you wanna avoid it. I don't depict anything graphic. Alright, awesome possum, thank you for reading!
[ First Chapter ] [ Previous Chapter ] [ Spotify Playlist ] [ AO3 ]
Central Park, Laredo, TX
July 11, 1998
“Do you want to try?” you ask Javier, who’s sitting in your passenger seat, smoking a cigarette, looking out his window as you roll a joint.
“Where do you get it from?” he turns to you, jaw set, gaze pointed at your fingers.
You raise a suspicious eyebrow at him as you dab the edge of the rolling paper on your tongue, then ask another question, “You’re not gonna narc on me, are you?”
He raises his eyebrows and blinks at you as if to say are you fucking serious, cariño? Or at least that’s what you imagine he’s saying to you in his head.
“I know a guy in town, I usually just call him and see if he has any,” you tell him with a smile, twisting the end of the joint into its final form, “voilà!”
“Oh, you know a guy? That’s very vague, should I feel threatened?” he smirks, leaning back in the seat.
“Only if you’re threatened by 60-year old Deadheads with 7 cats who love to make me watch Pink Floyd: The Wall every time I pick up from them,” you laugh, then cast a demurely inquisitive glance his way, “I mean, it’s tempting, but I think that I am pretty attached to the side piece I already have.”
“Good,” he winks at you and it makes your stomach flip. You stick the joint between your lips, grab your purse, then open the car door. He follows suit, grabbing the blanket he brought from his house. As he follows you across the dead end road into your favorite park, you hear him say, “Maybe I will.”
“Holy shit, really?” you turn around to see if he’s serious, almost tripping over the street curb that borders the park’s lush grass.
He stomps his cigarette on the road and shrugs as he exhales the last drag, “Why not?”
You clap your hands together excitedly and find a good spot to lay the blanket down. He spreads out the blanket, then lays out on it with his ankles crossed, leaning back onto his elbows. You tuck the joint behind your ear, sprawl out on your belly next to him, then squint up at him, biting your lip, “You look um… really nice today, by the way.”
Outside of church, where he wears suits, you’ve almost exclusively seen him wearing button-up short sleeved shirts, jeans, and work boots… but today he’s wearing a plain white t-shirt, (still very tight jeans but you’re not complaining), and athletic shoes. You had been on vacation with the Bakers for about a week, returned last night, and were just so thrilled to see him, you didn’t register his clothing mentally until just now.
“You think so?” he smiles down at you.
You nod, “Well, I always think you’re extremely hot, but that shirt is very,” you make a squeezing gesture with your hands, “tight. I like it.”
He presses his fingers to his lips before chuckling, “Well, thank you. I think you’re fucking gorgeous, as always. Very nice dress.”
A bashful smile spreads across your face, then pluck the joint from behind your ear, secure it between your lips, and light it. You take a few hits before offering it to Javi. He shakes his head and takes it from you. You roll over flat on your back, hands under your head, so you can look at the sky.
Javi passes the joint back to you, coughing a little, then you continue to pass it back and forth until it’s spent. He lays his back next to you on to the blanket and hums contently. You hum in agreement, feeling hazy and delighted to be where you are, elevated 10 feet in the air, in your favorite park, next to one of your favorite humans.
You roll on your side to face him, studying his profile, lost in your space cadet head thinking about how handsome he is and how fond you are of him. This man with his resting grumpy face and his stupid dimples and his ridiculous puppy dog eyes has completely bewitched you. He broke your brain, and now you don’t want anything else. When he finally glances over and notices you staring at him, he rolls on his side facing you and giggles, “What?”
You shake your head and smile as your chest aches with adoration, “Nothing, I just… I missed you a lot.”
“I missed you, too, cariño,” he reaches over and cups your cheek, brushing his thumb against your face, murmuring, “You’re so soft. I just want to touch you forever.” You start laughing, making him smile, and he tells you, “I missed that sound.”
Then it happens. It just slips out. You don’t even notice it’s happening until it spills out of your mouth instinctually. And, if you’re being honest, you don’t even recognize it as fact until you say it.
“Oh my god. You’re so sweet, I love you,” you laugh, then gasp as you slowly realize what you said, widening your bloodshot eyes as far as they go, laughing nervously, covering your mouth. Your heart starts to pound and your face turns red.
What the fuck did I just say?
His mouth drops open and he looks shocked in the most amused way. Then he studies your face for a moment, and burst out laughing, “Your face is so red.”
“Shut up, oh my god. I’m so embarrassed I can’t believe-“ you start rambling, rolling on your back and covering your face with your hands, completely mortified, but also you can’t stop giggling because of course I would just blurt that out .
“I love you,” he cuts you off, his laughter curtailing.
“You do?” you squeak, uncovering your red face, eyebrows drawn together.
He nods and smiles, grabbing your hand and lacing his fingers with yours, “Yeah. Yeah I do. I’m in love with you.”
All the air is sucked from your lungs, your eyes flick from his, down to his lips, then back to his eyes and you whisper, “This is so fucking stupid. What the fuck. I love you. I’m in love with you, Javi. Oh my god what am I-“
He leans over and presses against yours, soft, warm, and you’re breathless. You relax into the contact instantly, melting against him, sliding your tongue against his. He tastes like cigarettes and shitty weed; the smoky flavor wholly unappetizing to most, but you’re ravenous for it because it’s his.
You sit up and roll on top of him, straddling his hips, only parting mouths for a moment before returning, panting and whining like the kiss is a sacrament to the declaration: I’m in love with you.
Your heart starts racing and you feel a dizzying rush of adrenaline. His hands slide up your thighs, ghosting along the soft skin, under the hem of your dress, settling on the swell of your ass. Your hips grind down onto him, rocking back and forth on the length of his desire, which is currently strained in his pants. He groans against your mouth, “Fuck , baby, I want you.”
“Here?” you pant, peaking around to make sure there’s no one around. The area is secluded and there usually aren’t people here, but it’s also… in a public park.
He nods, biting his lip as he fondles your panty line. Sitting up and checking your surroundings, you unbuckle his belt, which is barely undone before he starts yanking his jeans down far enough for his cock to flop out. You shift your wet underwear out of the way, then work yourself down, soft whines falling out your mouth as you take him.
“Yes , holy fuck-“ he breathes, gripping your sides. You start rolling your hips at a steady pace, hand on his chest to support your movements. A squelching noise emits from between you, telling him exactly how turned on you are, if he couldn’t feel it already.
Meeting his love-blown eyes with your own, a breathy moan escapes you, “Do you love watching me ride your cock, baby?”
His face contorts and he groans, “Fuck yes, ride my cock like a good girl.”
You shudder as the words electrocute you, then do as he says, closing your eyes, tilting your head back, and letting your mouth fall open as the fluid movement of your hips pumps his cock into you. A moan rips from your throat into the sky, then you whimper, “Like this? Is that what you want, baby?”
In response, he can barely speak in full words, “S-so good, fucking per- perfect, you fuck me so good. I- I fucking love you.”
This elicits a moan as you tell him, “I love you, Javier.”
He slips his hands around the small of your back, supporting you as he sits up, knees bent on either side of you. You cling to his shoulders and sink down onto him, splitting you open until he’s fully submerged in your cunt. You start to rock your hips back and forth at a steady pace, feeding your body what it’s yearning for, each thrust rippling pleasure straight into your pounding heart. When your sweaty foreheads meet, he holds your hot gaze as you whine and gasp onto his skin, vocalizing the bubbling pool of ecstasy building in your center. He pants, “I missed this fucking pussy so much. I- I missed you so much.”
“I missssed you, mmm baby -“ you slur out, becoming delirious. You press your lips against his for messy, needy kisses, tongues grazing and teeth biting. And it’s there; you can feel it in this pull between the two of you, the electromagnetic energy that’s always been there, amplified to new heights with a slip of the tongue. It’s love. Like it has always been and always will be, it feels omnipresent and so fucking natural. Now it’s out in the open.
The panting and moaning become more frenzied in the air between you. A whine escapes Javi and he starts thrusting up into you, urging you to go faster. You oblige and match his pace, and it’s so fucking perfect and good, you start to babble that you love him you mean it you’re in love, and he licks the words from your mouth, gasping and groaning beneath you. The orgasm comes when he husks in your ear that he’s always loved you, it’s always been you, and it consumes you, shaking you to your core. You cry out as your cunt convulses around him, and you’re sure by the stutter of his hips and the way his face contorts, that he cums as soon as the sensation wraps around his cock.
Chest heaving, body flushed, and fully blissed out, you collapse against him. He hugs you close and buries his face in your neck. You remain there until the panting fades to soft huffs against one another’s sticky, sweaty skin. Like you’re Velcro’d to each other, you have to peel yourself off of him. He stuffs himself back into his pants, then rolls onto his side to face you.
“Hi,” you whisper with a bright smile.
He chuckles, brushing a strand of hair out of your face, “Hi.”
You try to swallow, but your mouth is so dry it hurts, “Fuck, I’m so thirsty. And hungry.”
“Wanna go get lunch?”
—
The waitress at Maude’s Cafe sets a steaming hot plate of eggs benedict down in front of you, and corned beef hash in front of Javi. Your eyes light up as you thank her while grabbing a fork and knife off the table.
“This is my favorite breakfast,” you tell him as you wiggle with excitement.
“I didn’t think there were places that did all day breakfast around here,” he comments while poking at the food, trying to decide which angle to attack from first.
You stab some hash browns with your fork and nod, “There’s another place like 10 minutes away, but it’s not good. They fry the egg on their eggs benedict and that is unacceptable.”
“Oh wow,” he jerks his head back and frowns with amusement, “I didn’t know it was that serious to fry versus poach. They’re not that different.”
“I might have to reconsider this whole relationship, how dare you say that?” you gasp, feigning shock as you cut into the eggs benedict, “Fried has a completely different texture.”
He chuckles and shakes his head at you. When he finally takes a bite of the corned beef hash, he groans and nods enthusiastically (read: that’s so good). Your own mouth full of food, you widen your eyes, raise your eyebrows, and nod (read: RIGHT?? I told you).
The waitress comes up to the table to refill coffee cups and asks if everything is ok, to which you give her a thumbs up and Javi nods, “Great, thanks.”
When she walks away, your gaze follows her. There’s a deep ache in your heart that must be reflected on your face, because Javi asks what’s wrong. You sigh and shake your head, then look down and start poking at your hash browns, “She just looks a lot like my mom.”
He raises an eyebrow, crosses his arms across his chest, and leans back, “You never really talk your mom. What’s the deal with her?”
Jesus Christ almighty where to start. You throw your head back and blow a raspberry, “It’s… a lot.”
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, cariño,” he assures you.
“No, I don’t mind talking about it, I just don’t wanna talk your ear off,” you shrug, then take a sip of your black watered down coffee, wincing as it scalds your tongue.
Javi sits forward and meets your gaze, “I want to hear about it, but only as long as you want to talk about it.”
I can trust him. He loves me. He wants to know me.
The corners of your mouth upturn at the thought. You tilt your head to the side and fold your legs up on the booth, “Ok. Well… she was 16 when she got pregnant, my dad was 18. And, you know, in the 60’s there weren’t really a lot of options for teen pregnancies. She dropped out of school. They got married when she was like 5 months pregnant or something-“
“When’s your birthday?” he interrupts.
You tell him the date with a smile, then ask, “Yours? Wait, how old are you?”
“Noted. April 2nd, I turned 40 this year,” he takes a sip of coffee, then waves you onward, “Continue.”
“Noted,” you grin, glance down to your plate, “Umm… ok, so, my dad worked during the day and went to college at night. Mom was stuck with me in a tiny apartment all the time. One night she woke my dad up and told my dad she couldn’t do it anymore. She didn’t want to be a wife or a mother. Which, you know, I get it. She was still a kid,” you clear your throat and look up at him, meeting his warm brown eyes, “Then she left. My dad had to try to juggle me with school and work, which was impossible, so I spent a lot of time with my grandma.”
Thinking of your grandma tugs on your heartstrings. She always did her best to make you feel loved, even after you attempted suicide. Her love and affection was unwavering.
“I didn’t start seeing my mom again until I was 5. On the rare occasion I did see her, she would take me out with her to parties and bars,” you look back at your plate and grimace, then set your fork down, “So, you know, we never really had any kind of a relationship. I think she only saw me because she felt guilty about leaving, not really because she wanted to see me. Out of obligation, not desire, you know? We never really talked beyond surface level, it was all small talk and bullshit. Literally the only thing we could talk about together, that wasn’t uncomfortable, was movies. She’d take me to the movies almost every time I saw her and we’d talk about them.
“When I was a teenager she still brought me to bars and parties. I would fuck around with people, sneak drinks, smoke cigarettes, do drugs. Anything to distract me from the fact that I was there with my mom who was happier to get obliterated than to spend alone time with me. One day we were at the bar and she was so fucking angry for no reason,” you look up at him, “You know, like when a person is hammered and dead set on fighting someone?”
He nods.
You shrug and drop your gaze again, “It was like that. She pushed me down over and over, trying to get me to fight her. She- she umm… she told me she never wanted me,” you face starts to crack and tears pool in your eyes. You see Javi’s blurry hand reach across the table, so you grab it and squeeze, “That I shouldn’t have been born. I was a mistake. I hitchhiked the 50 miles back to my dad’s house in the middle of the night. Thankfully, the trucker that picked me up wasn’t a fucking maniac.”
When you get the courage to peak up at Javi, his pained eyes bore into you, face soft, eyebrows drawn together. A sigh escapes you as you fidget in your seat, resisting the urge to change the subject to something much less vulnerable. He tells you, “You deserved so much better.”
“Yeah. I did,” you sniffle, then take a deep breath, “She apologized to me on the phone and everything, but I haven’t really seen her since. She got remarried, had my brother,” you bite your cheek and consider stopping there, but continue anyway because fuck it, “Then, you know, there’s my dad. Who I think holds as much resentment for me as my mom does. Just carries it differently. He remarried and they had my other two brothers. They all seem happy with their new families. And then… there’s me. I don’t really fit in to either of their families. I don’t really… feel at home anywhere, you know?”
His thumb rubs against your hand gently and he clears his throat, “I think I know how you feel. I mean- my parents were great, but after Mom died, then the split with Lorraine-“
“Who’s Lorraine?” you ask.
He seems to freeze up for a few seconds before clearing his throat and answering, “An ex of mine.” Running his hand over his mouth, he looks down, “It was pretty serious. It just… it didn’t work out,” he clears his throat again and shifts in his seat, “Since getting back from Columbia, though, this place doesn’t feel like home anymore. Not like it used to.”
Your eyes meet his and your stomach flips as, without thinking twice, you offer the something you never thought you would to another human, “We can make a home together, for both of us.”
The air is sucked from his lungs and he croaks, “I love you.”
The waitress approaches the table again and fills your coffee cups. Javi asks for the check, then you both settle into a dazed lull as you finish your food.
—
You sit in your driveway with the car running for 10 minutes before groaning out loud to yourself and taking the key out of the ignition. Dan’s car is in the driveway in front of yours, which is not what you were expecting to see upon your return to the house. If you had known that he would be back from Greg’s house so early, you would have cut your visit with Javi much shorter. But no, you just had to fuck one more time at his house before going home.
The front door whines open as you’re met with a wall of cool air. Peering around, you see Dan watching a baseball game with his long legs stretched out across the couch, hands tucked behind his head.
“Hey babe,” you greet him warmly while sliding your sandals off and throwing your purse down.
He tilts his head towards you, “Where were you?”
“I went to the park, smoked a little, went on a long ass walk. When I went to check the mail, I ran into Javi and he asked if I wanted to go to lunch, so we went to Maude’s,” you explain as you tip toe over, then plop down into the lounge chair.
“Oh yeah? You’re spending an awful lot of time with Peña,” he observes with a cocked eyebrow, eyes raking over your body.
You swallow hard and put on your poker face as you lie, “Not really. I haven’t seen him since Greg’s party. I just ran into him, it’s not-“
“Is that who you’re fucking instead of me?” he asks, unblinking.
“Wh- what?” you breathe. Panic floods your veins.
He clicks the tv off with the remote control, then stands up, towering over you, “Well, you must be fucking someone else. You’re not fucking me.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” you laugh nervously.
He crouches down to meet your eyes, then grabs your breast, making you yelp. He sighs, “Maybe we need to adjust our expectations for marriage.”
You lurch back and cross your arms over your chest protectively, then try to remain assertive even though you cast your gaze downward and your voice wavers, “What do you mean? I’m not fucking anyone, Dan. I- I am- am so stressed with our wedding, I can’t even wrap my head around sex. You know I have issues with that when I’m under pressure.”
He sounds apologetic at first, and you feel relieved, “That’s fine, babe. I know. I understand,” then he takes a breath and shifting his tone to something more stern, “But after the wedding, there’s nothing to stress about anymore. And I think it’s reasonable to expect sex twice a week from my wife,” he tilts your chin up to make you make eye contact, “Do you understand?”
Every square inch of your body is numb and tingling. Brain feels like it’s made of soup, nothing feels real. You realize he’s waiting for an answer, so you nod.
Am I in a dream? A nightmare?
“Good,” he purrs, “In the meantime… I just don’t know if I can go on letting you see your friend Javier if I can’t trust you’re not fucking him.”
“Dan, he’s my only friend here-“ you start to beg before he raises a finger to cut you off.
“I know. And I really don’t want to have to forbid you from seeing him, babe, I really don’t. So if you can just… prove to me that I have nothing to worry about, I won’t have to,” the tone of his voice is so condescending you could just fucking strangle him… if you weren’t frozen in place. If you didn’t feel like you’re actually floating on a cloud outside of your body. If you were brave.
“I don’t want to have sex,” you choke out, and you sound so fucking pathetic and weak right now.
“You don’t have to, baby, just…” he steps forward and grabs your hand gently, then rubs it against the crotch of his sweatpants, making you feel the twitching cock beneath, “Just… help me out. I need it, baby,” when you don’t respond, or move, or even breathe, he sighs, “Or I can assume that there’s something going on between you and Peña…”
You exhale a shaky breath and try to blink back tears as your thumb rubs against him through his pants, accepting his proposal.
[ Next Chapter ]
#javier peña#narcos fanfiction#narcos#pedro pascal characters#pedrostories#javier peña fic#javier peña x ofc#javier peña x reader#javier peña x you#javier peña x f!reader#javi peña#pedro pascal fanfiction#javi peña x reader#pedro pascal fandom#javier pena#pedro pascal character#javier pena fanfiction#javier pena fic#javier pena x you#javier pena narcos#javier pena smut#javier pena x oc#javier pena x reader#javier pena fluff#javi pena#narcos fic#jdett
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Paradise: Chapter 3: She Ran Away
Pairing: Javier Peña x McKenzie Martel
Rating: A - Adult
Warnings: Angst.
Summary: Conversations over brunch.
Note: This is an AU set in between season 2 and season 3 of Narcos sometime in the 90's. I apologize in advance for any historical inaccuracies!
MASTERLIST --- PARADISE MASTERLIST
What was the saying? If you love something let it go and if it comes back to you then it’s yours? McKenzie thought that was bullshit. Sure you could let it go… but would you still want it when it came back?
As she sat in the old diner in Laredo and stirred her coffee she lost herself in thought. She wondered if there was a reason for any of this madness. She wondered if sitting there waiting for him to show up was even worth the hassle. Javier had promised they would just talk. He had promised that he would tell her what had drove him to leave the way he did and not just some excuse for her safety. He had promised to tell her what brought him back. As if she didn’t know.
Kenzi wasn’t an idiot. The whole time that Javier was gone she had kept a close eye on the news. She had heard all of the stories of Pablo Escobar, feared for Javier’s life, and scoured the obituaries for his name just in case. Maybe she had stopped visiting Chucho, maybe she had all but given up on ever seeing Javier again, but she still cared about him even if he hurt her.
"Kenz."
His voice pulled her attention from the coffee she was stirring and had been stirring for a while. Green eyes flickered upward, meeting his own, shaded by the yellow tinted aviators he wore. Kenzi nodded, as if to tell him to sit down as she brought the cup to her lips and sipped her coffee. She wasn't sure what she was going to say. Truthfully she wasn't even sure she wanted to hear what he had to say. Her stomach turned as her heart pulled itself every which way, fighting for dominance, fighting for the decision on whether she was going to get up and walk away or if she was really going to hear him out.
"I saw you finished the mural yesterday." Javier sat down in the booth across from her, setting his jacket down next to him. He took the aviators off of his face and hung them from the collar of his shirt. "It looks good. I think dad will like it."
She slowly set her coffee back down onto the table, nodding and swallowing the mouthful of the bitter drink. "Yeah. I hope so."
Javier pursed his lips slightly, watching her with an eyebrow slightly raised. "Look… Kenz we don't have to do this yet if you don't wa-"
"I do." She cut him off, eyes flitting from the coffee cup still warming her hands to meet his eyes once again. "I'd rather get this over and done with so I don't have to think about it anymore."
Slow breaths. A sigh. Javier nodded his head and waved down the server so he could order a coffee for himself, his eyes never fully leaving Kenzi despite her willingness to look away from him and focus on something else. Anything else. She gazed out the window, watching as a couple walked down the street hand in hand. Stupid, happy smiles plastered on their face as they spoke to each other. It made her feel sick. It made her feel like she just might throw up.
"Fine." Javier started, smiling up at the server as she handed him his coffee, "Fine, Kenzi. Fine. What do you want to know?"
Her answer was quick. One word. Why.
A long sigh passed Javiers lips as he lit a cigarette and shook his head, taking in a puff before speaking. "I already told you, McKenzie. It was for your safety."
"That's bullshit." Kenzi whispered, shaking her head. "Tell me the truth, Javier."
"That is the truth, McKenzie."
"But not the whole truth." She bit back, her gaze snapping toward him, "Tell me the whole truth."
Another long sigh passed Javiers lips. He ashed his cigarette into an ashtray then took another pull off of it, shaking his head as the smoke billowed from his lips.
"Fine. I didn't want you to come." He admitted, "I didn't… I thought I needed a change, Kenz. I mean, fuck, I was about to marry Lorraine, settle down, maybe start a family… I wasn't ready."
Kenzi once again looked out the window, shaking her head as she wrapped her arms around herself, her fingers moved to her bottom lip, picking at it lightly. "I just don't… I don't understand, Javier." She breathed, "You gave up everything for what? Your work?"
"She's better off now." He responded.
"She is." Kenzi nodded, "Married with kids. She got her happily ever after, but we aren't talking about Lorraine, are we?" Her attention turned to Javier again, her hand dropping from her face. "This isn't about the bride you left at the alter."
"Yeah." Javier breathed, a billow of smoke coming out as he spoke, choking his words slightly. "It's about us."
"There is no us anymore, Javs."
"Isn't there?" He questioned, putting out the last bit of his cigarette, "Last time I checked we are still cradle to grave."
McKenzie stared at him for a while, a harsh silence between them as she glanced back out the window, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill.
"Cradle to grave…" She whispered, "Cradle to grave implies that we don't keep each other in the dark and leave each other, Javi. You promised-"
"I promised I'd be there for you, Kenz. That didn't mean I actually had to be there. I was trying to keep you safe." He snapped.
"You promised not to hurt me, Javier." She bit back, her eyes snapping toward him again. She shook her head and relaxed her shoulder a bit, grabbing her coffee and taking a sip.
"And I apologized for that McKenzie. I don't know what you want me to say. I did what I thought was right. I didn't mean for it to hurt you. I'd never want to hurt you. Please…" Javier reached across the table, taking her hand in his as she set her coffee cup back down, "Just… Trust me?"
There was a pause between them, a gentle sigh from Kenzi as she slipped her hand out of his. Javier sat up straight again, his gaze finally moving. Traveling to somewhere else.
"I thought about you every god damn day, McKenzie. I called Chucho to check in on you. Worried about you anytime he said he hadn't seen you in months other than a quick glance at the grocery store. I thought about calling you but I just… I couldn't have lived with myself if something happened to you." Javier leaned back in his seat. Deep brown eyes trailed back to McKenzie, watching her as she processed his words. "So many good people died out there, Kenz. People I trusted. I couldn't…"
His eyebrows furrowed slightly, pinching together and creating a harsh line in his forehead as his head dipped downwards, casting his gaze to the coffee cup in front of him.
"When the people I cared about started dying just for being associated with me I couldn't chance it, Kenz. I couldn't… risk your life. Not when I knew that you would have been willing to do anything to help."
Kenzi closed her eyes, listening to him speak, her anger slowly seeping out of her with every word. His tone was sad, regretful. She could feel him opening up and yet she still wanted more. she still needed more.
"Why did you come back?" She questioned, her voice closer to a whisper than anything else.
"Los Pepes." Javier replied, his voice low as if it were a secret that he didn't want coming out, "That's all I can say, Kenz."
"Because you're afraid?"
"Because I fucked up." He replied quickly, meeting her gaze, "And now I'm paying the price in more ways than one."
Both their attentions turned as their server came by, asking if they would like anything to eat. She refilled their coffee cups as Javier looked over the menu. They ordered and sat in silence for a moment, Javiers hand on the table, twiddling his thumb slightly as they both searched for the right words.
Finally McKenzie spoke. "Don't keep me in the dark like that again." She said softly, swallowing hard, "And… And tell me the truth about this shit, Javi. You don't have to do it now just… When you can, tell me."
"I will, Kenz. Just… Don't leave me, okay?"
there was a pain in his eyes, a pain in his expression that absolutely tore up her heart.
"I won't if you won't." She offered him a soft smile, "Cradle to grave no matter what."
The corner of Javiers lips curved slightly, returning the small smile that McKenzie gave him as they sat in silence for a moment. Overwhelming relief radiating between them. It could have been a lot worse. They could have had an actual fight about it, but Javier rarely ever raised his voice at Kenzi before. Truthfully the two of them rarely had ever fought before, their conflicts usually ending peacefully with them apologizing to each other for their irrational behavior.
Javier was rational. He was smart and he knew Kenzi well enough to know that hateful words didn't do him any favours.
"Alright. I have a bacon and egger platter for you." the server spoke, cutting the silence between them. Both their attentions turned to the server as she started to place their meals in front of them. Out of respect the two moved their cups out of the way to make it easier for the woman. "And I have the vegetarian omelette for you. Anything else I can grab the two of you?"
"No. No. I think we are alright, thank you." Javier responded, his voice soft as he unrolled the napkin holding his cutlery. His gaze moved back to Kenzi as she did the same thing. "So… Since when are you a vegetarian?" He asked.
McKenzie shrugged, setting her napkin to the side as she cut into her omelette, "Well… you know that whole cannible guy kind of put a wrench in my willingness to eat meat, you know?" Kenzi replied, looking up at Javier, "Couldn't get the visual out of my mind. Too gruesome."
Javier let out a breath, almost a laugh, "Still got a weak stomach, huh?" He joked, taking a bite of his food. "You would never have survived out in Medellin. The shit you see? You'd have flown home immediately."
His comment silenced her for a moment, her gaze moving downwards as she took a bite of her food and chewed. They sat in silence, both eating. Neither of them looking up at each other.
"Sorry." Javier spoke after a few minutes. He wiped his mouth and leaned back in his seat, "I didn't mean for it to sound negative."
Kenzi shook her head. She set her napkin down on her plate and grabbed her bag. "It's okay, Javs. I know you didn't mean anything by it."
"Let me pay." Javier offered as he pulled out his wallet. He grabbed a few bills and set them on the table. She twitched her nose slightly but didn't argue, instead just pulling the strap of her bag around her.
"Thanks. I have to run." She offered him a smile, "I'll see you around?"
"Wait. Kenz." Javier grabbed her arm as she started to walk away, "Just… What are you doing tonight?"
McKenzie let out a breath, looking down at him, "I… Nothing too serious. Just a night in with Rob." She shrugged, "You could stop by if you want?"
"Sure. Yeah."
"Cool. Chucho has my address." She offered before slipping out of his grasp. As she walked out of the diner and headed toward her car, she couldn't stop herself from smiling. Maybe, just maybe, that saying wasn't so bad after all. Maybe everything happens for a reason.
Maybe when things come back to you they are yours after all.
#fanfic#fanfiction#pedro pascal#narcos fanfiction#original character#pedro is daddy#javier pena x oc#javier peña#javier pena fanfiction
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What Should I Write Next?
Thank you to everyone for your very kind words on the conclusion of Don’t Let Me Fall. Since I managed to wrap that story up before the holidays, and since we’re due for the first big snowstorm of the season that will keep me indoors all weekend, I’m trying to decide what to write next.
I am not promising to write the most popular choice, but I am interested to know how readers feel about the following contenders:
Dal Riada (working title) - a WIP that is a retelling of Outlander with Claire falling from the 1860s back to the proto-Gaelic kingdom of Dalriada in 806, where Seumas (Jamie) is the nephew of the king. It also tells the story behind the Woman of Balnain folktale that Claire hears sung in Outlander. Omniscient POV. I’ve written 6 chapters (about 19,000 words) and done a ton of historical research, but I need to revisit the plot and do a significant re-write of what’s there. This is the story I most want to write, but it will take a looong time to do it justice. Likely completion: Summer 2023.
Laredo (working title) - a WIP set in the American southwest in the 1980s. Jamie is a vaquero (Spanish-American cowboy) on his family’s ranch in southern Texas when Dr. Claire Beauchamp’s car breaks down in his one-saloon town. He’s a fugitive from the law, she’s running away from financial and personal ruin, and they come to each other’s aid. Claire POV. This is the story closest to completion. I’ve got 13 chapters (about 37,000 words) written, and there’s just one major plot hole to fill and a lot of polishing before it’s done. Likely completion: January/February 2023.
West End Girl - a WIP set in mid-1980s London during the height of the cocaine/heroin epidemic. Claire is a wealthy Mayfair society girl who witnesses something she shouldn’t. Jamie is the leader of a Docklands street gang called the Clan who protects Claire from Black Jack Randall, her boyfriend’s cousin. It’s a lot darker than my usual stuff. Omniscient POV. This one is about half-written (12,000 words) but still needs some plotting and some rework as well. Likely completion: March 2023.
The Man from Black Water - another wacky fic idea that came to me not long ago. A cross-over between Outlander and the 1980s movie The Man from Snowy River, retold in 1880s Scotland rather than 1880s Australia. The plot would be almost identical to the movie (for those that have seen it) and I can practically recite that movie from memory, so this is a quick hit of feel-good fic. Likely completion: January/February 2023.
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𝑀𝑢𝑠𝑖𝑐 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑢𝑛𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠－ 𝐸.𝑀
♪𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝐼𝐼 － 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑚𝑦𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑜𝑢♪
Eddie Munson x Reader
Minors dni! By reading you are agreeing that you are 18 years or older. ⚠︎︎
Warnings: heavily suggestive material, swearing, driving recklessly (pls don’t do that🥺) best friends/fools in love, sexual tension, dash of angst, suggested masterbation
Idk, I’m still new at posting my fics and not really sure what all warnings to use, I’m sorry😭
ꨄ☠︎︎♪♫
Ok, so quick A/N- Murray is going to be Y/N’s stepdad. I know this sounds a little different but I haven’t seen this before and I think it will be hilarious for love-doctor (and regular little housewife) Murray to knock some sense into these fools. I’m going to go into the backstory for Y/N’s mother in the upcoming chapters, but all you need to know right now is that she passed away from substance abuse. I really hope that doesn’t trigger anyone- I just really wanted to write about the effects a parent like that can have on a child. You’re totally free to imagine she poofed into thin air lol! Also, let’s also pretend the spectacular Joan Jett and the Blackhearts released I hate myself for loving you in 1985 (when this takes place) instead of 1988. Just couldn’t resist using this awesome song. Ok, I’m done rambling- hope y’all enjoy 🫣
Eddie ruffled his young friend’s hair (much to Dustin’s fake dismay) and rushed out the building. He could still hear Dustin protesting (that kid was like a soapbox sometimes) but he wasn’t focused on anything but Y/N.
She seemed really upset. They had just been together, did something happen in the few minutes after he left?? God, why did he leave. He just had to relieve himself, had to close his eyes and imagine her breathtaking figure, breathy laugh, and mesmerizing (y/e/c) eyes. She might as well have been tattooed underneath his eyelids or ingrained in his brain.
His insecurity couldn’t help but take advantage of him in his worried state. No one upset her, she’s just realized her best friend is a disgusting horndog who can’t be in the same room with her without being a pervert. A little voice taunted him.
He wondered if she hadn’t realized yet-how? He had been able to keep it under wraps for a while. But as they got older, started changing…He couldn’t help but notice how she somehow got more breathtaking every time he saw her. He was constantly embarrassed and guilty about his feelings towards her, but still couldn’t bring his attention away from her eyes, her neck, her lips, her tits….Fuck. He was so screwed.
Despite his doubts, Eddie was nothing short of an gentleman. You rarely caught him staring. He had learned how to be subtle, after 4 years. If you did catch him, you chalked it up to hormones or his personality. Your naivety kept you from actually considering any other reason for him to gawk at you.
After searching the parking lot for an embarrassing amount of time, Eddie came to the realization you had left. Worried and confused, he hated the idea of having to wait until tonight to talk to you.
Eddie kept a brisk pace as he made his way to his trusted van, turning the keys in the ignition, and recklessly speeding out of the parking lot. A sane person may have falsely assumed he was just driving like that because he was worried about you, but that’s just Eddie .
As soon as he has started the van, loud music flooded his ears.
Eddie considers music best experienced loud. Blasting his music after school was great, but he always wished you were there to headbang with him.
♫
As you drove your black Jeep (1980 CJ-Laredo) home, you admired the surrounding scenery. It was fall, your favorite season. Orange and red leaves littered the streets and sidewalks, adding life and color to a normally boring suburb. Pumpkins and scarecrows were thoughtfully placed in almost every yard. The weather was perfect- you had to roll your windows down. Your right hand was gripping the wheel, your left was dangling outside the window, relishing in the crisp autumn air. Though you were confused about your earlier interaction with Eddie, you tried to focus on other things. It was a fruitless attempt. Does he know you’re embarrassingly obsessed with him? Did he still want to go to the concert? God you felt so pathetic, pining for him like an obsessive freak.
I hate myself for loving you began playing, and you turned the volume up.
I’m not getting jealous, don’t like looking like a clown
I think of you every night and day
You took my heart, and you took my pride away
I hate myself for loving you
Can’t break free from the things that you do
I wanna walk but I run back to you
That’s why I hate myself for loving you.
Rather fitting, you thought. More angry tears spilled down your face as you pulled into your driveway.
“Hey, kid, how was school?” Your step dad greeted you as you walked through the door.
“S’fine,” you unintentionally sniffled, “just tired. Going to get ready for a concert with Eds tonight. Is that ok?” You asked, already knowing his response. He adopted a pretty laid back parenting style, trusting you to make good decisions.
“Of course-go- have fun, you lovebirds!” Murray gushed.
You rolled your eyes and spun to face him. “Murray. You know me and Eds aren’t dating. We’re. Just. Friends! Do I need to learn a new language to get through to you??”
“Well you could always try Russian…” he offered jokingly.
“MURRAY. Seriously, are you trying to pimp me out or something?” you joked, lightheadedly.
Murray looked at you with mock horror, gasping dramatically.
“Listen- you are lucky enough to live under the same roof as a love genius-“
You bursted out laughing at this. “You are not a love genius!”
He chose to ignore your interruption and continue teasing you.
“If you don’t want to take advantage of my sage and WISE advice- that’s your loss! And poor Eddie’s.” He tutted.
You groaned, falling back to sit across from him on the couch.
“Eddie doesn’t like me like that.” you sighed matter-of-factly.
“And how do you know? Hmm?” He demanded.
“Uhhh…we’ve been friends for 4 years! I just know, Murray. And if he likes me so much why hasn’t he ever made a move?” You asked, embarrassed that you couldn’t help the last part coming out as more of a whine.
“Well…maybe he’s just as foolish as you, and thinks you would reject him.”
You grabbed a pillow to your left, and hit Murray with it.
“Hey!!! There’s nothing wrong with it- everyone’s a fool when they’re in love.”
“I’m not…in love.”
“Yeah, sure,” he raised his eyebrows skeptically.
“Listen, I know it’s hard. You don’t want to risk a good friendship. But think about it. You could tell him and if he feels the same -WHICH HE DOES- think about how much you have to gain.” He smiled, raising his glass of vodka.
It was 6:59 and you still weren’t ready for the concert. You had a terrible habit of doing this, retreating into your own mind while working or getting ready, leaving you with no concept of time.
You were wearing black jeans and a dark red shirt, one Eddie had made for you. It was “pre-released Corroded Coffin merchandise”, according to him. There was a sick illustration of a guitar on the front. It was obviously Eddie’s guitar- it was just too metal to mistake.
Underneath the crop top, you had a black and white striped long sleeve shirt, hoping it would help with the chill.
Precisely one minute later, Eddie was knocking on your door.
Shit, you thought.
You applied the last bit of makeup you had left, and hurried down the stairs to let him in.
When you reached the bottom of the stairs, you realized Murray had already let Eddie in. He almost always let you greet Eddie, trying not to embarrass you with his hyper-aware personality and lack of filter.
Ugh what is his game, you wondered.
You quickened your pace, joining Eddie and Murray by the door.
Eddie was mid-conversation with your step-dad as he took you in, quite literally forgetting how to speak for a moment. He was never rude to your step-dad, always trying to make sure he liked him. It was annoying, but cute.
But that damn shirt. Good behavior could no longer be promised when you wore that.
Eddie had made it for your birthday and was so thrilled to give it to you (he actually gave it to you a week before your birthday because he couldn’t wait to see your reaction).
Now that he’s seen it on you a few times, he’s regretted ever thinking to give you something that would give you so much power over him. Not that you needed any help with that.
His most prized possession was his guitar, and seeing you, the love of his life and the (non-living) other love of his life….he just melted.
“Ok, Murray. Stop bothering Eddie and let us get to our concert.”
“Oh you can’t stay for dinner?”Murray smirked and squinted at you.
Eddie took slight notice of the dynamic going on between you and your step-dad and (of course) had to play along. He smiled innocently and met your eyes. “Actually, Y/N, I’m sorry, but I got the time messed up. We actually have another hour before we have to be there…” Eddie admitted. Although he didn’t seem to upset. The wink and smirk didn’t help.
“Dinner it is!” Murray practically squealed. He headed into the kitchen, not waiting to hear your response.
You gritted your teeth. “Dinner it is.”
Sorry this was a bit of a filler. Also, the random spaces between paragraphs, no idea what’s going on there 🥲
Anyway, hope you enjoyed? Have a safe and lovely night, babes, and remember it’s ok to imagine Eddie railing you in a cemetery, that’s totally normal and I’m definitely not projecting ❦
Blessed be.
𝐻𝑜𝑝𝑒
#eddiemunson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfic#fanfiction#stranger things fanfiction#strangerthings#gayer things#eddieishot#eddieisalive
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Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love❤
AWW YOU AND @whumperofworlds both sent me this!!
Okay okay now I have to THINK. So this is in no particular order but here we go! Each piece has its TWs and a little snippet from it c:
1: BTHB 2023 - Near-Death Experience
TWs: car accident, near-death experience, panic attacks
Time seemed to slow down as Bastian tried to scramble backwards, his own boots betraying him. He slipped after only a step or two, his feet disappearing out from beneath him as he fell towards the otherwise empty street. The van hit the curb with a bang and tipped, still hurtling towards Mariano roof-first.
He hadn’t moved.
2: Mariano and Dimitri's Co-captives Arc (Here is part one)
TWs: Broken bones, kidnapping, torture, captivity
“Mm.” Dimitri hummed, rolling his eyes. “I have to be if you’ve gotten so soft. Plus you’re bad at that, too, so I have to pick up the slack.”
Mariano frowned, looking at Dimitri. “You haven’t seen me beg for someone in years, you don’t know that. I’ve gotten way better at begging.”
Dimitri rolled his eyes. “You’re the flattest person I’ve ever talked to. And I’ve known Izan for a long time.” He shot back.
3: War Mage Vignettes
TWs: stitches, alcohol, discussion of being shot in the head, near death experiences
Dimitri shot a glare at their medic from his post at the doorway of their dim room. “We’re not going to die here.” He hissed. “I don’t care that this was a fucking trap. We don’t die.”
Laredo nodded. “Remember? A war mage isn’t dead until there are two bullets in his brain.”
Izan hummed. “I still think one is enough for that. I don’t think I’d want to fight after getting shot in the head, at all.”
“I would.” Dimitri growled.
4: BTHB 2023 - Possession (Andrew and Tobias belong to @whumpr / @brinkofdiscovery!!
TWs: Possession
“Hey, this isn’t funny.” Andrew said, forcing a nervous laugh anyway. “That wasn’t cool. C'mon.” This time, when Andrew tried to step into the room, William lunged for the door. He threw himself to the floor with a snarl before grabbing his own wrist and tugging it to his chest.
“Don’t come in, please.” William’s voice broke as he whined and pressed his face into the filthy tile floor. “Don’t–it, it wants–” One hand wound into his own hair, tugging harsh enough to rip some out alongside a yelp.
Elliot felt like he was suffocating. “Guys, I don’t think he’s joking.” Not even Andrew could’ve been committed enough to this bit to pull out hair, much less William. What did they even do now? William was the one who’d even brought anti-ghost shit.
5: A Month of Whump's March Trope-a-Thon Day 1 - Environmental / Snowstorm
TWs: hypothermia, non-sexual nudity
Bastian growled to himself as he skidded down the rocks that Mariano had tumbled down. They hadn’t expected the path to give that far away from the edge, and Mariano hadn’t even had a chance to shout before he was swept away. “I swear to god, if he’s an icicle when I get there, I’ll let him freeze.”
As the temperature kept dropping and the snow kept falling, though, Bastian had to accept that he was just complaining. He could feel the tug in his chest getting more urgent. The presence that Mariano’s magic held got weaker, sleepier. It curled up smaller and smaller, starting to flicker.
When it began to fade, Bastian started running. He barrelled through snowy trees, crashed through brush, and finally, finally, it felt like he was getting close. Ripping through low hanging branches, Bastian’s heart just about stopped when he stumbled into a clearing.
“Mariano!”
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Breathing Space
*gif by @pedrc-pascal-archived
Warnings: contains mention of blood and death; deals heavily with PTSD.
Fandom: Narcos
Character: Javier Peña
Length: 1.3k
Rating: T
Summary: After nightmares wake him up, Javier calls an old friend.
Inspired by: @the-ginger-hedge-witch and her fic The Crush. Specifically inspired by the chapter titled "The Hero".
P.S. I don't own Eva. I also don't know Spanish. Whatever is in this fic is from Google. Blame them if I get it wrong.
Originally found on AO3.
[Masterlist]
--------
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Such simple movements, engrained from birth, became difficult to grasp.
The nightmare took him by surprise, jerking him from a fitful slumber with a start. The sounds of the city leaked through cheap single paned windows. Sounds he’d long since gotten used to made his nerves dance like live wires under his skin. Unseeing eyes peered up at the cream colored ceiling, still trying to reign himself in, still in the grips of a scenario his mind made up for him. Why must the mind be so cruel?
His fingers itched for the smooth skin of a woman, but his bed remained empty, a machination of his own design. He often drowned in the soft, familiar comforts of women’s slender arms, nestled into their warm flesh and tried to remind himself exactly how to breathe. How long had it been since his chest hadn’t ached with each sharp inhale? How long had it been since he’d actually caught his breath, the motions coming smoothly instead of in panicked, overwhelmed staccato? He couldn’t remember, and the sick thought percolated in his stomach.
This wasn’t what he wanted in his life. The dreams he dreamt of on the dusty farm in Laredo never included this. Delusions of grandeur, that’s what he had. Delusions of trying to make a difference.
But what difference had he made?
Uneasy. Out of sorts. Lost.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Lost. Perhaps that didn’t describe it perfectly, but then again, he didn’t know what would describe the things he felt on a day-to-day basis. None of it surprised him. He left parts of himself all over Colombia, on the streets, reflected in crappy rear view mirrors, dirty windows, and spilled blood. A ghost of the drug war that took so many people every single day. A ghost with a pulse, haunting the very people he so desperately wanted to kill, but couldn’t touch.
Dios mio could he really be that naive?
Of course he could. Lehder, Gacha, they were small fish in a big pond, but fish all the same. Then why did it feel like he’d already failed before he even got started? Why did he feel so damn helpless? Because he didn’t have Escobar. Escobar embodied everything he hated about Bogota, everything he hated about home.
The untouchable man. The hometown hero. A savior nobody asked for but they got all the same. He knew a few back home like that, can remember their smug faces, can hear their voices whispered behind grocery store shelves and around shellacked wooden bars. They were the voices he heard in his nightmares, twisted beyond recognition, taunting him for his failures, and there were many. Too many to count. Add in the murmurs of the rest of the town, add in the gossip–about him, his father, Lorraine–and their disapproval could be felt thousands of miles away.
A car alarm shrieked far too closely to his apartment. His heart pounded in his chest, a hand reaching for his side table before he came back down. He uttered a curse, fingers carding through his hair as he drug himself out of bed to find a bottle to drown in. He traded the soft skin of a woman to the hard glass of whiskey. It didn’t have the same feel to it. It was too cold, impersonable.
It didn’t help.
But what made him feel better? Staring at the ceiling willing himself to fall back asleep or drinking until the liquor made him sleepy? He’d choose the liquor any day.
He glanced at the clock on the microwave. Too late to go out. Too early to go to work. He could call his father, but the two of them barely spoke anymore. The wayward son. Too eager to leave, too broken to return. No. He would let Chucho tend to his wintering cows and horses and other farming miscellany. He wondered if Eva had woken up yet, if she was busy with chores too, just chores of a different kind. He sighed and knocked back his whiskey in one long pull.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Javi barely heard the ringtone on the handset as he cradled it between his ear and shoulder, pouring another few fingers of liquor. He barely even realized he’d picked up his phone and dialed a number. He thought maybe he could change his mind, hang up before he drug anyone else under with him, but he couldn’t be that lucky. Eva’s familiar voice soon sounded over the headset.
“Hello?”
He took a breath, winced and greeted the woman. “Buenos dias, Eva.”
“Javi,” she breathed out reverently, as if she’d been called by Jesus himself. “You never call. You never write. I started to think you’d been killed down there.”
He laughed mirthlessly. “No such luck.”
“Javier, no te atrevas,” she scolded.
“Lo siento,” he murmured, finishing up his second glass of whiskey. “I didn’t disturb anything, did I?”
“Not yet. Just making breakfast.”
“What are you making?”
The conversation felt so mundane, but not entirely unwelcome as he stood there in the darkened apartment, trying to keep his chest from hurting, feeling his heart thumping under his ribs like it wanted to escape.
She laughed. “You called to see what I’m making for breakfast?”
“No. I’m just making conversation.”
She sighed over the handset. “Huevas con chorizo. Chucho made the chorizo.”
“As he usually does.”
“You need to call him, Javi. He’s not getting any younger.”
And he wondered why he didn’t call Eva often.
“None of us are.”
“¿Qué te he dicho ya?”
The sound of sizzling sausage and a wooden spoon scraping across the bottom of a skillet reached his ears in the ensuing silence. He imagined the disappointed look on Eva’s face. It was the same disappointed look his mama used to wear when he got in trouble for fighting at school. No one wanted to accept their headlong race against mortality, least of all a woman who’d seen her best friend ripped from her far too early in her life. But he couldn’t help it.
She didn’t know it–or maybe she did–but he wasn’t getting out of Colombia alive.
“No te atrevas.”
“Si, no te atrevas. It’s too early in the morning for that.”
“Lo siento,” he breathed again, considering the rest of the whiskey in the bottle on the counter. Might as well. He didn’t even pour it into the glass, just drank it straight from the bottle. “How’s the farm? How’s everyone?”
“Getting by, of course,” she began, trailing off to say good morning to whoever had come into the kitchen.
She continued on, talking about Gabe, Isa, Aaron, and Eli, but he couldn’t keep up, his mind working a mile a minute as, suddenly, down the street from him, he heard the loud pops of guns being shot in the street. The sound startled him, instantly reaching to the small of his back for a nonexistent weapon. He carded his shaking hand through his dark hair. It was then he realized Eva had stopped talking.
“I gotta go,” he uttered suddenly, disregarding whatever she’d said or asked. “I’ll write soon.”
“Si, you better. And call your papa. ¿Entiendes?”
“Entiendo.”
He didn’t wait for her to say goodbye, nor did he say the word either, slamming the phone down on its base and chugging down the rest of his liquor. He glanced at the clock on the microwave again. Still too early to go to work. He resigned himself to a little more shut eye, padding back to his room and collapsing into his bed, not even worrying about covering up with blankets. He didn’t think he would sleep for long.
As he closed his eyes, hoping for a dreamless sleep, he murmured toward the ceiling, “Perdóname padre porque he pecado.”
Breathe in. Breathe out.
#Javier Peña#Narcos#Pedro Pascal#sam writes#javier peña fanfic#javier peña fanfiction#narcos fanfic#narcos fic#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal characters
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