#narcos javier
Text
anytime
javier peña x f!reader
summary: “Thank you for coming with me,” you whisper.
Nodding, he feels you follow his path—dropping, scorching his face, tracing the place where the hair sits atop his lip. “Anytime, cariño.”
“Anytime, really?”
wordcount: 3.1k.
warnings: fluff. bestfriends to lovers. banter. reader wears a dress and has a gloss on lips. no physical description. javi calls reader solecito as a nickname only. likely warnings for spelling as i wrote this on my phone.
an: huge thanks to @wildemaven for creating this moodboard (pls go show it some love), letting me make a banner from it, and then letting me write this for Javi instead of Frankie. bby, i hope you like this.
Javi had never been good at avoiding challenging situations.
For the longest time, he’s been finding himself in the centre of a whirlwind—whether in Bogotá, Cali or apparently even back home.
You, his friend, best friend—a well-kept secret, tucked away in his chest, not shared with a soul when he was away. You were a thing that he’d clutched close to his chest from the moment the two of you had first gotten close, through his failed engagement and even more so when he left for Colombia. You, in all your understanding, hugging him, telling him he’d be great, amazing, the very best.
Both of you were younger then, less worn down by life, its many obstacles and all the other things.
You best not become best friends with anyone over there, Peña.
As if anyone could annoy me as much as you, solecito.
In the brief interim of his return, you hadn’t appeared all that different. You may have had a job, a house—drove a slightly better car than when the two of you were staying out at all hours—but you, at your core remained very much the fucking same.
Still just as understanding, as kind. A person who got him, without really needing to try.
For Javi, the best thing—outside of you being you and the monthly calls you made him promise to keep when he was drowning in murder, drugs and Escobar—is that you never ask him about it. Any of it.
You had always let him pretend, escape, listen to you fill him in on gossip—things such as disagreements over the size of rhubarb and whether someone was having an affair. A thing you did even when he came back. Even more grateful for it then, when he grew tired of the questions, the compliments, the everything.
Its why he didn’t tell you when he would land back in Laredo for good. Just waiting, standing outside your place, leaning against your car as you walk down the street—eyes brushing over him, pausing, before he gets to see that smile. That signature fucking smile.
When he’d left the first time, he remembers how you’d lingered near your car, unwilling to climb into your bright yellow death trap—the entire reason he called you solecito to begin with—wearing the beginnings of that smile even then.
The difference is now he knows that there was something under it. Hidden, held back, kept from him.
It’s why it meant so much to him when he saw it in all its glory, all alight, blooming and somehow healing.
He can’t explain it, but it repairs strands inside of him. Your presence alone continuing to do so when he meets you for lunches, coffees, and late-night drinks. In exchange, he makes you laugh, your head thrown back as he tells you about whatever he did on the ranch—all of it comical, apparently. Because the idea of him, Javier Peña doing ranch work brought tears to your eyes.
“You’re just jealous.”
“Jealous?” you splutter, taking a mouthful of your beer as you narrow your eyes.
Nodding, he leans back into the booth, arm stretched out, picking and picking—the label crumbling from the sweating bottle. “Yeah. Bet you’re upset you don’t get to see me herd cattle and mend fences.”
“Oh, yeah. One-hundred-percent.”
Shrugging, he grins—an easy task with you. A thing that has always been that way, even when he turned up at your door when he couldn’t get married; even when the two of you sat under the stars when he told you about possibly going to Colombia. You still made him grin—even when things weren’t fucking easy at all.
“I’ll add it to my to-do list—visit Peña on the ranch—it’s currently sat under finding a dress, a boyfriend and the will to fucking live.”
Snorting, he traces his bottom lip with his thumb.
Your face scrutinises him, before rolling your eyes. And he just waits—because you always spill eventually.
One. Two. Th—
Fine, you huff, before it unravels from you. How the wedding of your work colleague is close, closer than I thought and you’re tired of attending these things alone, circled like a fucking fish by single sharks.
And he’s listening, taking it in. Trying to not wince at how high-pitched you’ve got as you’ve ranted.
Mainly, Javi finds there’s more questions rising than answers provided.
One singular one rising to the top. A thing he’s wanted to ask for the last few weeks. Not in a rude way, or in the way it burns inside his chest when he talks to you on the phone and he has to bury it. But, it’s there, bubbling, wishing to escape and know. It's even louder when the two of you are like this, crammed in a space, laughing, smiling, sharing, wondering—
Why are you even single? How are you?
You’ve mentioned people—names, here and there when the two of you had been on the phone. Them fluttering out before you can pull them back, but then they’re forgotten. Javi, I get one call a month—let me tell you about the cattle war going off. And, in a way, he didn’t want to hear, didn’t want to know, so he never asked.
Now, it’s all he wants to ask.
Because you’re… you. You’re brilliant, beautiful—funny, clever, witty. And yet—
“—so, now it’s a week out, and I need to find a dress, a date and drive there to watch another person I know get married.”
He knows he should busy his mouth with the bottle—wrap his odd idea in beer. But, that part of him—the one which wants to help, solve issues, and be useful—rises up in him like a phoenix left from the ashes of Colombia.
“I’ll go with you.”
He expects the pause, even braces for the look of shock.
He doesn’t expect the smirk. Doesn’t expect the way it spreads out, to hit your eyes. How under the low-bar light over the table, it makes your eyes glimmer and fucking shimmer.
“You want to go to a wedding with me?”
Shrugging, he picks off the last part of the label—the mess of it all circling around where the glass meets the wood.
Mirroring him, you shrug. “Alright.”
“Alright.”
He should take his eyes off you, but he finds he can’t.
Javi hasn’t been able to since you stepped out of your place, a handful of your dress as you locked up—stepping down your steps to his car, letting it flutter down to your ankles.
You look like a fucking dream.
A thought he knows he shouldn’t have—but has all the same. His heart staggered, half-halting in its hammering as his hands paused in their drumming on the steering wheel; his glasses slid down his nose, his skin suddenly warm all over, even if his jacket was already splayed out across the backseat.
Close your mouth, Peña.
I’m chewing gum, solecito.
Yeah, that’s why your mouth is open.
It hadn’t passed his notice that you were good-looking before today. He’s known you were, had always known it—he had eyes, after all. But, he’d always felt there was a line. A line the two of you never delved too close to step over. The sign above both of your heads already illuminated in bright bulbs and flashing lights:
JUST FRIENDS.
Until this, anyway. This thing that can only be described as the longest one-hour drive he’s ever been on. And he used to do recon with Murphy.
Because you’re teasing, taunting him. All in that usual way that you do. And it’s so easy to flirt back, to let line after line roll, but he has begun to spot you squirming.
Doing so while matching his suit in a deep brown shade—chosen by him, ‘pick a colour suit, Javi’. Adding a tinge to some of your comments—things that if said by someone that wasn’t you, he’d ask them (flirtingly) if they were coming on to him.
But with you, it’s something he can never be sure. Never something that can be completely understood, known, cracked or figured out. In the same way, he can’t understand how your perfume keeps following him. How it embeds itself into the cabin of his truck when he picks you up, sews itself into his clothing when the two of you meet—and right now, is attempting to bury itself in his skin, muscles, and bones.
“You’ve been abnormally quiet.”
Smirking, he snorts. Fingers smoothing out his hair as he swings into a spot—the tyres crunching over the gravel. “Have I? Or have you just not shut up.”
“Rude.”
Laughing, he cuts the engine—hands resting on the top of his thighs, not missing the way your eyes follow his movements before clearing your throat. It shifts something in him, makes a little part of him surge, like the smallest of fireworks suddenly erupting in his chest.
Something he forces himself to shut down the moment you shove open your door, slipping out, as he grabs his jacket.
“Do I need to be worried about you crying today, solecito?”
Rearranging your dress, and slipping the strap of your bag over your shoulder, you squint as you stand tall, hand covering your brow as you meet his gaze.
And fuck, with this backdrop, even squinting, you look beautiful, radiant, stunning all over again. Somehow his brain having forgotten when you were next to him, when you were acting as if this was the most normal fucking thing they’ve ever done.
It isn’t.
Something he’s becoming more aware of as his throat goes dry, and his thoughts slow to nothing—
“No, you’re good. Your mouth is open again.”
You say it with a smirk, all teasing—making heat lick up his spine all over again. And, if you were anyone else, he’d have already pulled you close, tilted your chin up, and likely smothered your mouth with his.
But, you’re his friend—his best friend. The one solid thing he’s had in his life since he became a name, a poster, a hero.
“C’mon,” you say, turning on your heel as you head in the direction of the entrance, him following, jacket slipping on as he mutters mouth isn’t fucking open under his breath.
Even if he knows it was. Even if he’s desperately trying to stop his eyes from descending down to your hips, eyes fixated on the way you walk with ease to the wooden sign which greets all the guests.
He knows, due to his absence from home, there haven’t been many weddings he’s attended. Least of all like this. But even he thinks this is over the top, suddenly understanding why you hadn’t wanted to come alone. Because grand doesn’t quite cover it—not after the last one he’d attended.
This one has flickering candles lit in the day, waiters all set to hand glasses of bubbles and offer little mouthfuls of flavour on silver trays. Then, there’s the backdrop—the enormity of the building, only for you to tell him that it’s an outside wedding.
It’s more of a comfort as to why his hand drops to the small of your back than anything else. A need to be rooted, to feel calmer as he nods at passing people he doesn’t know (and hopes don’t know him), feeling you curl into him subconsciously, your bag swinging between the two of you both—affording a gap, forcing it, in fact.
The ceremony will start soon.
He overhears it, as he assumes you do, because your fingers wrap around his wrist—taking it from your back, before your palm meets his, and then you’re guiding, leading. Dragging him. All willingly to the back of the building where he sees it—the makeshift aisle. A wooden arch, and lots of deep orange-brown chairs all line up on either side of an orange aisle.
“Glad we chose brown now,” he murmurs.
“Does it make you think, y’know—being at a wedding?”
He swallows. Because it’s a loaded question.
One he assumes has been sitting all politely on the tip of your tongue since you sat beside him in his vehicle. It’s why his eyes watch you carefully as you grab the two of them a flute each from a passing waiter. Handing it to him, adding nothing—not rescuing him. Just waiting instead, doing that thing you do, where your eyes widen as you wait, trying to look all innocent even though it’s you who has just dropped a live grenade into the centre of the conversation.
Shaking his head, he snorts. “No. Not really. Knew… I knew deep down it wasn’t right. Her… and me.”
“You got any idea what’s right?”
You take a sip this time when the question lands, it again sparkling in glittered innocence, the softest of smiles pressed against the glass.
You he thinks. But he swallows that away and says ‘Not a fucking clue’ instead.
Throughout the day, he’s been desperate for a reason to stop looking at you.
So far, he’s found none.
Bits and pieces of things Murphy used to say, the words he’d drop into conversation when talking about his wife: how he knew, why she was the one, all coming back to him in drips and drops.
It dawns on him, the same as it had done since before he went to Cali, that you might mean a little more than a friend. A lot of what Murphy used to say, so easily applied to how Javi felt about you.
You make him feel calmer, create a space where he can relax, really unwind. It’s easy, uncomplicated, when he’s with you—from the conversation to the things he thinks. Complex balled thoughts stretch out until they’re in easy-to-decipher lines, able to process, able to understand.
He even told you about the boats.
A secret he’d have been prepared to take to the grave, if not for the fact you pointed out he wasn’t sleeping. Your eyes watching, pleading, don’t lie to me. And fuck, he couldn’t—not even if he wanted to.
That should have been the first sign.
He guesses he should be thankful today has been stuffed with more of them. One after the other. From the way you made sure to make him a plate of only his favourite things, to the way you knew when he needed a bit of space from the thousand questions as to how you both knew one another, and what he does.
Now, Javi is on the sidelines, admiring you in a way that makes his heart double in size.
Your dress skims around your calves as you dance—your arms rising above your head, glee stitched itself from cheek to cheek. On occasion, time halts when your eyes land on his—stealing whatever thought he had, only resuming normality when you close your eyes, belting out the lyrics to the song.
Mainly, the thought he finds which keeps returning is: I wanna do this with you again. any place. any time.
A hollowness scratches out in his chest as he lets himself acknowledge it. A thickness growing in his throat, a sorrowness weighs down on his shoulders as he nurses his glass—hand in his trouser pocket, telling himself he should be content he got to be on your arm, got to have you against him during a slow dance over an hour ago. That he gets to see you smile, hear your laugh—even know you.
“Hey, Peña.”
“Hey solecito.”
You grin—a little breathless, the music having changed, becoming slower, softer—wrenching the glass from his hand as you drain it.
“Fuck me. Y’thirsty?”
“Very. You’d know if you had any rhythm.”
He pinches you, lightly—teasingly. Your grin shifts into a laugh, tucking yourself in against him, arm around his back. And fuck, the way you’re looking up at him, he wants to warn you.
If you look at me like that, I’m going to kiss you.
Javi wonders what you’d do if you did. Whether you’d pull away, hissing the two of you are friends. Or whether you’d kiss him back.
“Want to get some fresh air?” you ask, your words against his ear—lips so close to ghosting his skin.
“Sure.”
It’s cooler when the two of you step out from under the marquee, the music getting quieter when your fingers loop in his, guiding, easing him around plant pots and tall trees, until the two of you are descending marble stairs and past iron fencing, to take him to the perimeter, to the view looking out over the city.
He watches as you step forward, fingers around the iron fencing, leaning, staring out as you let out a heavy sigh. One laced with things he wants to ask for, tug it from you, let you unload whatever is weighing on you—because that’s what you both do for one another.
You make it easy.
Make it all bearable.
But, whether you mean to, or not, you shiver. A light one, barely noticeable by most—but he isn’t most. His fingers are already at the button, undoing it, sliding his jacket down his arms before he places it over your shoulders, watching your head turn, meeting his gaze.
“You look really pretty.”
Flicking your eyes down, you smile. Sweetly. Unreadably. “Well, you’ve always been pretty.”
“Pretty?”
Laughing, your fingers tug his jacket closer, burying yourself in it. “The prettiest, Javier.”
Leaning beside you, he feels the metal from the railings, you’re both resting on, cut into his palms. He wonders if you feel the same, your dress billowing in the gentle breeze as the two of you stare off into the distance, spotting the flickering lights of a city, of homes tucking in for the night.
Then he turns his head, finding you already watching him, studying him in a similar way as you were before.
And, he lets his eyes drop to your mouth. A sign. A signal. It’s not the first time, usually, he does so when you’re not looking, letting himself trace the curve of your lips. Now, he stares at the way your gloss has long since gone, left behind on glasses and straws.
“Thank you for coming with me,” you whisper.
Nodding, he feels you follow his path—dropping, scorching his face, tracing where the hair sits atop his lip.
“Anytime, cariño.”
“Anytime, really?”
Nodding, he swallows. A thousand things he’s thought, and felt, all rushing to the surface—unwilling to bury itself, to descend under the usual guilt and feelings of inadequacies when it comes to you.
“I’d do anything for you.”
Smirking, you tilt your head. “Anything?”
Biting your lip, he feels it—something thrumming in him, being plucked.
“Will you kiss me?”
“I could…”
Your brows rise, a louder cheer coming from inside, but it doesn’t do anything to tear your eyes away from the other.
The whole world could slowly vanish from around the two of you, and all he’d want is just to stare at you.
“But?” you ask, delicately.
Almost so softly, it makes his chest ache.
Dipping his head, he lets his gaze wash over the place again—the rolling land, the trees, the houses in the distance.
“If I kiss you, I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”
You slide closer, shoulder to shoulder, eyes scorching his jaw, his neck, the side profile he can feel you tracing with your gaze.
“Then don’t,” you say.
His neck almost cracks with the quickness of his movement, his eyes scanning, reading, a part of him wanting to step back, and protect you. Because he’s not sure about the parts of him you’d find easy to love—
“You don’t know what you’re—“
“Don’t care,” you interrupt, fingers twitching on the lapel of his jacket. “I know you—Javi, not Agent Peña. I know the boy who cloud-watched with me when my parents wouldn’t stop fighting; I know the man who told me to stop sending him postcards from the town shop—but also whispered that he liked them.”
Snorting, he smiles.
“So, if you want to, no pressure—but, I think you should kiss me.”
“Yeah?”
Nodding, you bite your cheek. “Think you’ve wasted a lot of time not kissing me already, honestly.”
Of course you do, he thinks. And then he kisses you, palms on your cheeks, slanting his mouth over yours.
And fuck, it’s the best fucking thing he’s ever done.
an: honestly, this made me so fucking happy to write.
#javier peña x reader#javier pena x reader#javi peña x reader#javi peña x you#javier peña x you#narcos x reader#javier pena x you#javi pena x reader#narcos javier x reader#narcos javier#pedro pascal x reader#narcos fanfiction#pedrostories#mm: late night texts#javier peña fanfiction#pedro pascal characters fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fanfic
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Separation
Series Masterlist
Fandom: Narcos
Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader
Rating: 18+ (*slaps the roof of this fic* This bad boy can fit so much smut, angst and fluff in it)
Word count: 8.4k words wtf
Summary: The last time Javier Peña saw his wife was almost three weeks ago in Steve Murphy’s apartment. He’d finally done it. He’d fucked up the only good thing in his life, driven her away with his neglect.
A/N: Why is it that whenever I write Javi, there’s angst? What is it about this beautiful pathetic man with big brown eyes (and big strong arms) that makes me want to hurt and comfort him? Also, if any of you want to be tagged the next time I post Javi (or just husband Javi) lmk and I’ll make a tag list.
The last time Javier Peña saw his wife was in Steve Murphy’s apartment, holding a sleeping baby Olivia Murphy on her lap as she consoled an anxious Connie Murphy. That night, he’d finally brought his partner home to his wife and child. Relieved, he went home only to find a note from his wife by his bedside informing him that she would be staying with a friend for a while. No explanations, no phone calls. Just a note.
That was almost three weeks ago.
Her side of the bed stayed untouched. Her bedside table was unusually empty without her novel of the week on it. When he reached out for her in his sleep, his heart craving the familiar comfort of her touch, he found it cold and empty. He’d wake up with a start, unaccustomed to an empty bed even though he’d spent all his bachelor life before her sleeping by himself. It was as though married life had been a cruel fantasy he was awoken from to be forced back into the reality of his lonely existence.
No matter how many times he longed to call her friend’s landline, he couldn’t bring himself to dial the number. She’d been by his side ever since he asked her to move in with him. Undying loyalty, a shoulder to lean on, a body to hold when he awoke from nightmares. She deserved a break from him.
The refrigerator sometimes had boxes of meals for him, his whiskey glass was chilled, her laundry done and dried for him to fold up. Dishes left in the sink for him to wash. He had a wife and she did come by the apartment but never when he was there too. She’d been like a ghost, slipping in and out and probably through walls without his notice.
Their anniversary came and went. Still no sign of her.
It wasn’t their wedding anniversary. It was the anniversary of their first date. That was not something they celebrated like they did their wedding anniversary but her absence made him remember and it fucking stung.
He’d finally done it. He’d fucked up the only good thing in his life, driven her away with his neglect. She gave him everything and asked for nothing. Not even the bare minimum. Her parents had begged her for a proper wedding and he couldn’t even give her that. She married him at the embassy and went home alone in the short white dress she bought herself from a regular store as he went off on some fucking raid that ended up failing anyway. She watched as her friends had weddings and baby showers and children while he kept her stuck in the same place in life.
And she was finally gone. After putting up with everything, she’d slowly disappeared from his life without him even noticing it.
Javi found himself outside her classroom. He’d walked into the English Literature department, opened her drawer and checked her schedule, ignoring the questioning staff with the same practiced authority he had as DEA agent.
For the first time, he took in the force that was Professor Peña in action. He knew she was a fucking genius. But to see her command the classroom’s attention was something else.
On one of their first nights together, he’d put his head on her lap and closed his eyes as she played with her hair and asked her unashamedly to read her book out loud to him. He had a reputation of being an asshole, of sleeping around a lot. There was an image of him being a callus man who hopped from one bed to the next. It couldn’t be further from the truth. He gave bits and pieces of his heart to every woman he slept with, he asked personal questions, kissed foreheads and comforted them over their troubles. He lied on the lap of the woman he would one day marry and asked her to read him a bedtime story of how Anna Karenina fell out of love with Alexei and in love with Vronsky. Javier may have been an asshole in others’ eyes, but on her lap, he was the man who kept his parents’ easy intimacy in the back of his head as he looked up at her and wondered if he could have something like that with her.
As she engaged the classroom in a discussion about Frankenstein’s creation, he witnessed everyone around him fall for her just as he did. He watched as she pulled them into discussions and got them involved in passionate debates amongst themselves about the nature of the creature. She was the perfect leader, knowing just how to steer the large group, get the stubborn young people to question their world views and lead them to answers to questions they didn’t even know they had.
She was a wonder.
If this was all he could have of her, he would take it. If she wouldn’t come home to him anymore, he would show up to her classes and sit in the back seat just to hear her voice and see her eyes twinkle with passion.
She didn’t notice him, her attention reserved for the students who asked questions and argued their points passionately. He had to wait until they’d all submitted their papers to her and had a little conversation to continue their discussions. He’d never seen students so reluctant to leave a classroom. He couldn’t blame them; he didn’t want to leave either. Only when most of her class had shuffled out did he have the courage to approach her desk.
He stood there, making no sounds, just fidgeting with his right hand as he tried to find the courage in him to speak to the professor who was counting the number of essays that had been submitted to her.
“Sorry, I have to get home now. Office hours are before class on Monday,” she said, not even looking up at him.
“Sure, if that’s the only way I’ll get to see you.”
She stilled mid-count, letting go of the papers as she looked up at him. She opened and closed her mouth, as though swallowing everything she thought to say.
“What are you doing here?” She asked, finally.
He shrugged and managed a half-smile. “Had to catch you somehow.”
When she said nothing, he continued, “Where do you go when you tell your students you’re going home? Because you don’t come to ours.”
He carried her papers, her handbag and her lunch bag to the jeep. As though he had to confiscate all her belongings to make sure she’d actually come home with him. As though he was afraid she’d slip through his fingers like the sicarios he chased.
Her hand didn’t cross the physical space between them. Her head rested against the glass of the window and her eyes were closed. She didn’t reach over to switch the radio on, didn’t ask him about his day, didn’t reach over to pinch his cheek or steal his aviators.
“Talk to me,” he said, his voice shaking as he realized he didn’t want to hear whatever it was she had to say. He wasn’t prepared for the harsh truths. All he wanted was to take her to bed and kiss her all over and hold her tight so that she would never leave. He wanted to cry like a little boy begging his dad to not leave for work because he would miss him too much during the day. He wanted to overwhelm her with his love, manipulate her mind into taking him back though he couldn’t admit to himself that at some point she apparently stopped wanting to keep him.
His hand was on her knee as he sat at her feet and looked up at her face expectantly for her to speak. It wouldn’t have taken him more than a second to get on his knees. He was no religious man. That stopped the day he buried his Ma. But he would get on his knees again and pray to her to stay, to be his benevolent goddess and forgive his sins for the nth time.
“I don’t know what I did, I really don’t,” his voice cracked as he confessed. “But it must’ve been something terrible for you to stop coming home.” It shamed him to discover that he had become the man he promised himself he would never be. One of those inattentive men who’d grown so comfortable in the kindnesses of their wife that they’re shocked when she decides she has had enough. Neglect killed love. And he had been neglecting her, leaving her alone most days and most nights as he traveled back and forth between Bogotá and Medellin.
She stared at him, her expressions indiscernible. She accepted his hands when he placed them on hers, the small action giving him hopes. “Whatever it is, I’ll fix it,” he begged, holding on tight. He needed her to believe him.
She shook her head and looked down at her lap. “It’s not— you didn’t do anything wrong.”
After relief came surprise. He hadn’t done something wrong this time? The relief was quickly replaced by worry. If he was the cause of her running away from him, he could handle that. He could change himself, fix whatever within was wrong to make her come home again. But it was something else, someone else…
“What is it, then?” He asked, cupping her cheek and gently directing her to look at him instead of her lap or the walls. “Is it work? Are your parents doing well back home?”
“Nothing, it’s nothing.”
He inhaled and rubbed his eyes. “It can’t be nothing. You left me. You packed up your bags and left. I think I deserve an explanation.”
She let out a sigh. “I’ll come back then.”
His hand curled into a fist and his jaw clenched. So that was it? All he had to do was ask? Her easy compliance made him want to throw something at the wall.
He got off the ground where he was knelt at her feet and began pacing across the room.
He expected some resistance when he barged into her workplace uninvited and demanded that she come with him. He expected— no, hoped for a fight for it would give him answers for her sudden disappearance. But she just walked with him to the parking lot, no questions asked. And now she just agreed to move back in. All because he demanded answers.
“Fucking tell me!” He yelled, his hand fidgeting at his side.
“I don’t want to fight,” she said, her voice too calm for the gravity of the situation. Like this didn’t fucking matter.
Oh, you don’t wanna fight? You don’t wanna fucking fight? You fucking ran off and you don’t want to—
“I don’t either, but you’re making it very hard to not do that.”
He heard her take in a deep breath before he heard the unmistakable whispers of sniffling. Great. Fucking amazing. Now, he’d gone and made her cry.
Her sounds of despair were enough for his rage to evaporate off him. He rushed back to her side and pulled her to his chest, forcing comfort upon her in the hope that it would serve as a salve to whatever wounds he’d ripped open. To his relief, she didn’t push him away. But she didn’t pull him close like she always did when he embraced her. Things had changed and he hadn’t even noticed it happening. All he could do now was hope that whatever this rift was between them, he could patch it back together.
—————————
Even in the blistering heat of Bogotá, Javier chose to keep his wife pressed to his chest when he slept. She was disgusted by their sweat combining and their clothes sticking to their bodies, but she indulged his need for closeness. She knew he loved with his body and she accepted his love, in all its sweaty sticky mess.
So he had no choice but to interpret the chasm between them on their marital bed as her rejection of his love.
As soon as he brought her back home, he had to leave for Medellin. Any hopes for setting things right had been crushed when he had to leave from work straight to the other city. He’d called home before he left, informing he would be gone for a long time once again. She didn’t say much, just hemmed and hawed before asking him to be safe out there. No exaggerated smooching sounds to make him laugh, no promises of what would be awaiting him when he came back home to her, no I love you before she said goodbye.
Over ten days after the call, he was back but without any of the feelings of satisfaction he usually had when coming home to her. Instead, there was just dread. She met him at the door as usual and wrapped her arms around him, but she separated without a kiss. The cracks in the foundations of their marriage ran deeper than he’d feared.
“Hey,” he whispered awkwardly when she finally opened her eyes. She stilled, her head jerking up as though surprised he was there.
“Hey,” she replied, her voice groggy from sleep as she shuffled under her blanket.
“I missed you so much, mi amor…” he said carefully, afraid that anything he might say would snap the last thread that held them together. His hand slowly crept into the space between them, an offering to share the littlest bit of marital comforts.
“Missed you too, Javi,” she conceded, not taking his hand but settling for playing with his fingers. He allowed her to lead, giving what little contact she took from him and taking back only as much, afraid to cross any lines.
Her nails were uncharacteristically unkempt. The woman he knew did not tolerate chipped nail polish, wiping all her nails with acetone when the paint began chipping off. Almost all her nails except her pinky had chipped paint now. Her thumbnail was bare.
“May I paint your nails?” He asked, hopeful. She nodded and he left their bed in search of the box in which she kept all her manicure tools and paints.
When they sat together on bed as he took the pink off her nails, they were closer. He handled her hands with care, refusing to scrub too harshly even when the pieces of glitter clung to her as stubbornly as he did. Manicures were something she got done from salons, but she painted her own nails just as often. She said it calmed her.
He then brought the glass file to her nails, reducing them to a shorter oval shape the way she liked them. Any longer and she found it hard to use her typewriter. He made sure to file the edges in the same direction, recalling that she’d told him filing in opposite directions was not good for nail health. He repositioned her hand in his, turning it left and right as he evaluated his work. Satisfied with the shape, he brought his lips to the finger, his eyes remaining on hers the entire time to check for any signs of rejection. He pressed little kisses from her fingertip to her wrist, relishing in the shy smiles she rewarded him with.
He repeated his work with the other nails and then used the little wooden stick she had to push her cuticles back in preparation for the paint. The shower would wash it off soon, but he still slathered some moisturizer on her hands, using it as an excuse to massage her hands. He pushed the excess cream beyond her wrists and up her arms.
He kissed the back of her hand and looked up at her, her eyes clouded with sleep and something else, her plush lips parting as his own traveled up her arm. “You feel so good, baby, so soft,” he praised, making her shudder. When he reached the sleeve of his t-shirt that she liked wearing to bed, he pulled it down, exposing her shoulder. As he neared her neck, she cradled his head in her hand, guiding him by his hair to place kisses where she wanted them. His lips went willingly, loving her up in every spot she took him to. She was all sweat, citrus shampoo and the jasmine of the lotion he’d rubbed on her. He breathed her in, her scent being his choice of drug.
She pulled him back from her neck, gazing at his lips before closing her eyes and leaning forward. He brushed the tip of his nose against hers, making her giggle. He smiled before leaning in again but kissing her chin.
“Javi,” she whined as he kissed along her jaw and the corners of her lips and even her nose, refusing to press his lips to hers.
“Yeah, baby?” He asked, feigning innocence. But she knew him too well to believe the act.
“Jodón.”
“Tell me what you want.” He demanded, craving the feeling of being wanted. He needed to know that she needed him just like he needed her, that she wasn’t just capitulating to his desires, that she desired him.
“Kiss me.”
He found himself grinning as he took her face in his hands and tilted his head, unhurried in how he grazed her lips with his. She took initiative, pressing her lips to his. She consumed him, not like a starving woman but like one ready to savor each second of her meal. He let one hand wander down her back, caressing her through the thin fabric but not daring to slip it under her t-shirt. He needed her to take this at her pace, unaffected by his greed and desperation to have all of her. It was fantastic how just a kiss from her could make him feel his heart beating for her.
He’d kissed other women before her and he enjoyed all those times. But with her, it was different. It wasn’t the first step in fucking, wasn’t a means to an end. When he kissed her, he wasn’t a lonely man trying to imitate a deeper intimacy he’d never had merely to quell his yearning for connection. In her lips, he found not just the thrill of desire, but the safety of home.
The first time he kissed her, every other kiss ceased to exist and she’d become the only one. Everyone he kissed after that first kiss left him unsatisfied. None of them tasted like her, didn’t send jolts of electricity through him, didn’t make his heart leap out of his chest.
She mewled into the kiss as his tongue danced with hers, giving in to her exploration of his mouth as she pulled him closer to herself. Taking her sounds as encouragement, he tangled his hands into her hair. He poured a month’s worth of longing into the kiss, asking with each sigh and moan ‘Can you feel how I yearn for you? Can you not feel how you broke me when you left and put me back together with just this kiss?’
She pulled back first and he found himself panting, taking in the air he didn’t know he was depriving himself of. He pounced back, needing her more than he needed oxygen. He took her lips between his, pushing her head into the headboard as he pulled her into a heated kiss. One hand roamed his shoulder and then his arms, up and down and driving him mad as the other rested over his heart. He brought a hand to hers, trapping hers over his heart. He felt lightheaded as she staved him of air, but he happily drowned in her. He needed her to feel him, feel how his heart beat to her tune, how it missed having her head rest on it as they slept in each other’s arms.
“Please, Javi. Need you…” she broke off to whisper. He placed one last kiss to her lips before he slid down the bed, pulling her to the edge before pulling her shorts off her. He dove in and licked her through her panties, savoring the taste of her wetness on the cotton. Her hand found his hair and tugged gently.
“You have no fucking idea how much I’ve missed having you, querida…” he said, placing a kiss between her legs.
“I miss you so much, Javi…”
“No, you don’t know,” he insisted, angered that she would claim to have missed him after she left him. If you missed me so much, why didn’t you come back? He pressed his thumb on her clit, pressed a bit harder than she liked and she whined.
“I’m sorry!”
“You left. You walked out on me, didn’t tell me shit and I was fucking miserable,” he confessed, passing on the hurt right back to her. She mumbled a few more apologies, but nothing would be enough until he got to take her again.
“Gonna let me show you how much I missed you, baby?” He asked, placing kisses on her belly. “Gonna let me make love to you?”
“Yes, yes, please. Need youuu—” she cried as he pushed the cotton of her panty aside to lick her.
“You need me?” He asked, licking her again. God, how he missed his favorite taste. “Did you miss my cock like I missed this pussy, baby?”
She nodded, but that wasn’t enough for him. He needed to know from her lips, needed her to scream for the entire city to know how she missed his touch. He pushed her legs back together and pulled her panties off before setting it aside. He wrapped his lips around her and sucked on her clit, exacting the sweetest little sounds from her.
“I need to hear you.”
“Missed you, Javi. Missed your cock,” she confessed, tightening around his finger as she did. He wished he had his cock inside her as he made her tell him how much she missed it. He would pull more confessions out of her with a promise of an orgasm and he knew she would say anything he wanted.
“You have ruined me, mi amor. Can’t make myself cum just as good anymore without this pussy. Hate my own fucking hand.” He praised before he lapped and laved at her core, licking her up as he made her wetter and wetter for him.
“I sneaked your panties out of the laundry hamper, took it with me to Medellin like a fucking creep,” he confessed, unsure if her cry of his name was the work of his fingers or the confession of his depravity. “The pink one with the stripes, covered in you from when you touched yourself, when you kept this cunt to yourself and kept me away. I needed to smell it when I wrapped my fist around my cock and imagined I was fucking you.”
She clenched around his finger and that sent a rush through him. “That make you feel good, Cariño? Knowing you’ve turned me into a fucking pervert?”
“Javi, baby please…” she cried as he busied his lips once again with her cunt. He would’ve left her pussy lips for the lips that cried his name so prettily but she kept him down with her hand on his hair. She fucked herself on his fingers, gasping when he added a third one to stretch her out further.
His idle hand traveled up her body, its every nerve ending enjoying having her tremble beneath him once again. He took his time, roaming everywhere, feeling every inch of skin that he would soon trap under him as he fucked her for the first in a long time. This was the longest they’d gone without each other ever since they decided to pursue what they had for real. Even with his job being the way it was, he managed to come to Bogota every now and then to have her.
She wrapped her legs around him, trapping his head with her thighs as she dug the heel of her foot into his back. He growled into her cunt as she thrust up into him, fucking his mouth and his fingers at the same time. She still wanted him in between her legs if nowhere else and if he had to, he would fuck her into staying with him forever.
A few more minutes of licking and sucking and she was pulsating around his fingers, her thighs setting enough pressure on him to make him fear that she might crush him. With a cry of his name, she came for him, coating him in her juices. He drank up all of her, not showing any restraint.
She pulled him up by his hair and he obeyed, kissing her lips to bless her with her deliciousness. He dipped his tongue into her mouth, meeting her tongue as she moaned with her own taste. He placed his hand over her collarbones, smearing her all over the place before he crept up and held her neck as he relished in the vibrations of her moans.
He gasped into the kiss as she wrapped her hand around him through his boxers. He grabbed her wrist and held her in place, keeping her from stroking his cock. It’d been too long since he had her and he wasn’t going to waste this morning by coming in his fucking underwear.
“Let me have you, baby,” he begged, dipping down to her neck to lick up her cum that he had smeared over her. He wasn’t going to let any of her go to waste.
“Yes, fuck!” She reached into his boxers and took him out, painfully hard and already leaking precum. He licked and sucked the skin until it was marred from his attention.
“Wanna be on top, please,” she begged and he rolled them around, acquiescing to her. She sat up on him, her knees planted on either side of him before taking her t-shirt off to reveal her pretty tits. Before he could reach up for her himself, she took command in taking his hand and placing it on her breast.
“Missed this so much, Javi,” she said as she stroked his cock. He kneaded her breast in his hand, enjoying having the ample flesh in his hands.
“Need to be inside you, please,” he breathed, trying as much as he could to clear his thoughts for if he focused on her hand around his cock and how gorgeous she looked on him, he would burst in an instant.
She obliged, adjusting herself over him before living him up with herself. She let him inside her wet heat, just the tip, before pulling back up. He groaned at the loss of contact, biting down on his lip as she repeated the motion, giving him just a bit of her pussy before pulling away once again.
He grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Don’t fucking tease. I haven’t had you in the longest time, darling. I need—ssss” he hissed as she took him in once more.
“I’m not teasing,” she gasped silently as she allowed a little more of him inside her. “So big, Javi. Haven’t stretched me out like this in s-so long,” she praised as she swallowed him bit by bit. “So fucking thick, gonna ruin me.”
“That’s right, baby… You love this cock, don’t you? Can’t go for anyone else ever again. I’ve made you mine,” he said, moving his other hand to her clit, moaning when she rewarded his touch by gripping him tighter.
“Mmmm love your cock,” she moaned as she struggled to take more of him even though he’d gotten her nice and wet with his fingers and mouth. Poor thing needed time to get used to his girth again after having gone such a long time without him.
“You are so beautiful like this… Look so fucking sinful trying so hard to take all of me, sitting on top of me like that and letting me touch your tits,” he praised as he played with her nipples, pinching and tugging and rolling between his fingers to make her tighten around him. She might have been on top, taking the reins, but he still had control. He knew her body like he knew the communas where he chased men, knew every shortcut, memorized every path, knew where to go to corner and capture them. He could elicit every desired response from her by touching her in the right places and saying the right words. She belonged to him, body and soul, and he enjoyed using every inch of her body to remind her to whom she belonged.
He let her set a slow torturous pace as she adjusted to him, groaning as she finally swallowed him to the hilt. It was pure bliss to be surrounded whole by her, to feel all of her wet, velvety heat. He felt her all over, from the tips of his toes to the top of his head and it was everything. She was everything.
It was sweet torment to be exposed to the cold air of the fan only to be swallowed back up by her hot cunt. He needed her so fucking bad, needed her not just for the carnal pleasures that sex brought but the feeling of home when he found himself buried in her— he needed her to devour him whole and keep him right there, inside her, all hers and nothing else. Only the Javier that belonged to her was worth existing. Everything else he’d become in over three decades of life was insignificant.
Inside the walls of their home, on their marital bed, there was no world outside. She brought him the delusions of safety and he luxuriated in it, allowing himself to forget everything that wasn’t her. The world was just her tight cunt, her tits under his hands and the filthy sounds from her lips as she slowly went from a woman in control to a writhing, moaning mess. He met her halfway with his thrusts when she struggled to keep up on top of him. He sat himself up and pulled her to his chest, giving in as she stole his lips. It was hurried and sloppy as they explored familiar territory, still as excited as the first time they kissed each other. Practiced lovers, savoring the familiar comfort of each other’s lips yet excited to find something new each time.
“Don’t ever leave me,” he begged, holding her face in his hand and making her look at him in the hopes that she would see just how much he meant it. “I can’t, without you… I— I c-can’t, mi amor— Please…”
“I w-won’t,” she managed to stutter out as she grew breathless.
“Promise me,” he demanded even though what he wanted to do was beg.
She opened and closed her mouth, unable to form words as he set a relentless pace, taking over as he thrust into her and thumbed her clit.
“Fucking promise me!” He growled, forcing himself into her in hard, merciless thrusts.
“Aaaah! Ja—”
“You’re mine. You’re fucking mine, get it? This isn’t— We aren’t just da-dating. I’m your husband. You can’t just leave like that.” He forced himself deep and inadvertently hit her cervix. She jolted in his arms and let out a pained cry, letting him know his mistake and he pressed a kiss to her cheek in a silent apology.
“Sorr— hnnng! ‘m sorry Jav—”
A tear slipped down her cheek and he kissed it, tasting her. He breathed her name the way a dying man would call for his god in desperation. He prayed her name, each syllable a request of Save me, never leave me, breathe life into this wretched man.
She pulsated around him, collapsing on his chest and relying on him to hold her up as she reached her peak. She was deadweight in his arms and he held her tight as he reamed into her, her back arching and her hair cascading down her back, shaking from his hard thrusts. She took him along with her, erasing his world and making herself his everything. She had dragged him to the peak of the world and now she was pulling him down and he went with her willingly, taking everything she gave him, getting lost in her body. She was like a breath of air after drowning for eternity, she gave him life, gave him meaning even though she’d been the one to rob him of it.
He wiped her tears and kissed her all over, showering her with all the love he had for her. But it wasn’t enough. No matter how much he poured out, he couldn’t show her the depth of his feelings for her. No words compared, no kisses came close to the place she had in his life. No matter how many times he told her he loved her, she would never know just how much.
“Te amo, Javi,” she broke off from their kiss to whisper. He collapsed on the bed and brought her down with him. He pecked her lips once and then twice before setting his gaze on her eyes.
“Si me amas…” he paused to take a breath. “¿por qué me dejaste? ¿Por qué?”
She looked down at her lap and fidgeted with her rings as she spoke, “Y-yo no quiero perderte.”
He shook his head as he said, “No me perderás. Yo soy tuyo.” He took her hand and placed it on his chest over his heart. “Tuyo.”
She scoffed, her hand curling over his chest. “More Escobar’s than mine at this point.”
“What?”
She shook her head and looked away, avoiding his eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to— I shouldn’t complain.”
“No. No, you talk to me. What is this about?”
“We’ll fight if we talk about it. Like Steve and Connie.”
“Do you…? Do you want to leave…? Like Connie did?” He asked, unable to steady his shaking voice. Three weeks with her gone was hell enough. If she wanted to take off permanently, he didn’t know what he would do with himself. Hunting the hijo de puta had become his purpose in life over the past few years. But he now had another important purpose, a woman he’d made promises to. Promises he was insistent on keeping.
She shook her head.
He sighed as he tucked her hair behind her ear, needing to see her without anything in the way. It was fucking frustrating, not knowing what worried her so much that she couldn’t even talk to him about it, that she chose instead to run away from him. But he had to be kind if he wanted her to open up.
He began by caressing her cheek with the back of his hand. Gently, like soothing a wounded child. “Baby… If you don’t tell me what this is about, how am I going to fix it? Hmm?”
“It can’t be fixed,” she said, same as that day.
It took him a moment to know how to answer her.
“When I asked you to marry me, you asked that I give you all of me. Have I not kept that promise?” He asked, knowing that he had so far. No matter how ugly, no matter how broken, he brought home all of himself. To her credit, she accepted him just as he was.
She nodded and said, “you have.”
“Now I’m asking. I want everything, too. Whatever you’re hiding from me that has you worried will make us fight. Is it about my job?”
“I’m sorry,” she said as she nodded, head hung low as tears spilled out.
“No, no, nothing to be sorry about. Just talk to me. What about my job?”
“S-scared.” His chest tightened at the trembling of her voice. Relationships were not something he was comfortable with after he left Lorraine and it was alright for his dangerous new lifestyle as an agent in Colombia. There was no one else he was putting in danger because of his line of work. But then he had to go and fall in love.
It was one of the reasons he proposed to her as soon as he could. Being his wife offered her more legal protection than did being his girlfriend. And knowing that she was it for him, he saw no point in waiting. But she was still afraid for her safety.
He reached out quickly to reassure her.
“I’m here, okay? Our home is safe. Those bastards won’t dare touch you here, won’t dare touch a US federal agent’s wife. I got you,” he whispered into her ear and rubbed her back, hoping to help her relax in his arms. She didn’t. She just tensed.
“‘m not worried about m-myself,” she said softly. “Ever since Steve got kidnapped, I—”
He took in a deep breath and pulled her in closer even though there was no gap between them. What was he supposed to do? Tell her he was safe? Lying wasn’t something he was ready to do in their marriage. Even if he did, she wouldn’t believe him after she had to comfort a panicking Connie. He had the same job as Steve, faced the same dangers. It could be him next. And he might not be lucky enough to come home.
The CNP guys were in much greater danger than he was as an American. Call it gringo privilege. But he couldn’t make promises. He couldn’t promise that a jump from the roof wouldn’t end up terribly. He couldn’t promise that he would never catch a stray bullet. He couldn’t promise that a crazy motherfucker wouldn’t target him for the bragging rights over nabbing a US agent.
Small town sheriff Javier Peña hadn’t thought of all this when he signed up for this job in his mid twenties. There was just an opportunity to run away from a town that hated him— a town he hated more for how it smothered him from all sides as he grew and grew yet it remained small, insignificant. It was his chance to do something great, to be the good guy fighting big bag guys and he took it. He hadn’t been warned that he’d one day be sat holding his sobbing wife, speechless because he couldn’t make the most basic promise— to fucking stay alive.
“I’m sorry,” she whimpered, the tremble in her voice tugging at his heartstrings.
“No, no. I’m sorry.” Sorry I can’t give you more. Sorry I made you cry. He pulled her into his arms and sat on the couch, cradling her in his lap more for his comfort than hers.
“I shouldn’t complain. I know I married a man with a dangerous job. I signed up for all this, but… ‘m so scared, Javi. I can’t sleep at night. I wake up from nightmares and I lose you every single time. I get scared when I get a call because what if—” she stopped, breaking down into sobs.
There was nothing he could do to fix this, she was correct. The thing that was causing her all this agony was his whole life.
“Do you want me to quit my job?” He asked, regretting it the minute the question left his lips. What if she said yes? What if that was the only way to fix their marriage? He would quit. There was no question about that. But that would mean that almost a decade of his life’s work would be worth nothing. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself. Resentment would break anything they had left between them.
Please don’t ask that of me.
She shook her head and he had to keep himself from letting out a huge sigh of relief.
“Do you know I have students who— I shouldn’t tell you. I’m not on the field like you and I don’t know all the things you know, but I see everyday how he’s fucking ruined lives. I want you to catch that motherfucker. You’re in this fight and I’m not letting you leave it without crushing his blood empire. I just don’t want us to be collateral damage. I can’t bear losing you whether it is to divorce or a bullet. I can’t—” she brought her hand to her lips, biting on her newly shaped nails.
He swallowed, tugging her hand away from her mouth and giving it a kiss. “I can’t make promises about the latter,” he said softly, unable to look her in the eyes as he said it. He didn’t want to know what he did to her with those words. “You know I can’t. But when I die, whether it’s tomorrow or 40 years from now, I’ll die your husband. I don’t do divorce. You might think it’s not a big deal for me, the guy who left his first fiancé at the altar. But trust me, you’re a catch and there’s no way I’m letting you escape”
She laughed and nuzzled into his neck. He rested his head on hers and pressed a kiss to her hair. “I’m not joking. You should be very scared, baby. As far as I’m concerned, I’m it for you. Won’t let you leave no matter what you do.”
“Yeah?” She laughed, her eyes glinting with tears but also something new. Her lips quirked up in a mischievous smile. “What if I slept with a bunch of guys?”
He raised an eyebrow, reeling the unhinged jealous little man in his heart to join her in whatever this was that made her smile through her tears. “Good for them. Best pussy they’ll ever have. I mean, I will beat them to death for touching you. But you’re still my wife. Not divorcing you.”
“What if I fucked Steve?” She challenged, raising an eyebrow.
He knew what she was doing. She was making it personal, putting a face to the act and making said face a very familiar one. But he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.
“Last thing he’ll ever do in his life. I’ll kill him and Connie will help me hide his body.”
“Mhmm? What if…..?” She trailed, looking into the distance as she stroked her invisible beard. “What if I let someone else knock me up?”
“You bitch!”
She gasped and shoved at his chest. “How dare you call me a bitch!?”
“How dare you even think of letting another man do that?”
“I won’t actually do that!” She defended, folding her arms over her chest. “I’m just trying to get a raise out of you.”
“And you did,” he supplied, making her scoff.
“How about…? Okay! What if I fucked Escobar?”
“Shit, I would tell everyone!” He laughed. “My wife? Getting that close to that piece of shit and living to tell the story? Yeah, I’d be on the rooftops with a megaphone. Oh and I’ll kill him. Of course. Goes without saying.”
“Well, you were gonna kill him anyway. What will you do to him for touching your wife?” She asked, twirling his overgrown hair around her finger.
Was this…? Noooo! He was just joking, but she seems to like the idea of him killing men for wanting her.
“Baby, what’s wrong with you?” He asked, laughing. She surprised him every goddamn day.
“I don’t know, you tell me,” she licked her lips and drew shaped on his chest with her index finger. “There should be an explanation for why I signed up for all this.”
“You like this, don’t you?” He asked, lowering the register of his voice the way she liked as he took her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You want me to possess you, to hurt anyone who would want you that way I have you. You like that I can be a dangerous man.”
She shivered, but quickly stabilised herself, looking very blasé as she spoke, “Huh, that answers my question. I always wondered what kind of idiot would be with Escobar. I guess women just like to fuck a powerful man. And money. She’d gotta be in it for the money.”
“She married him before he got rich, actually. And it’s not just women who are attracted to powerful men,” he added, letting her know just how much he liked when she was in a position of power.
“Men too? You’re gonna tell me you want to fuck Escobar?” She asked, making him laugh. He pinched her bum, making her squeal and attempt to get off him. He pulled her back in immediately, not ready to lose contact.
“When I came to your class, I sat in the back the entire time. I enjoyed seeing you in your element, leading the discussion, getting a big room full of people to listen to you. And your ass in a pencil skirt. If I was your student, I would wank off every day thinking of you” he groaned, his cock twitching inside her at the mental image.
“Oh my god!” She exclaimed before hitting him playfully.
“Whaaat? I feel bad for those fuckers in your class, having to talk about Frankenstein’s monster to impress their hot little literature professor.”
“Don’t sexualise my job!” She looked positively scandalised. Like he’d suggested that she let him fuck her on the streets.
“Uh huh? Now you know how it feels? What was that you asked me for your birthday?” He teased. “On yds, the little interrogation fantasy. You’ve been begging me to tie you up and interrogate you.”
She hid her smile from him, covering her face with her hands, but he pried them off to see her looking so sweetly shy at being reminded of the depraved things she wanted him to do to her. “You don’t have to do it,” she said, shy and quiet and she played with her rings.
“Mmm thank you baby, but I’m gonna make your dreams come true. Just be happy I’m not CIA. Cause CIA has some terrible interrogation methods. They’ll fucking waterboard you.”
“Oh my god! Okay this isn’t fun anymore,” she said, getting off him, but he pulled her right back onto his cock, laughing as he caught her expression.
“Let me go!”
“No, no sorry. I shouldn’t talk about the CIA in bed, they’re such a turn off.”
“You think that’s why I’m trying to escape?? Javi, women don’t like talking about waterboarding with a dick inside them.”
“Okay, okay, I know. Just stay in bed. I have today off and I need to be inside you,” he said, rubbing her back in an attempt to coax her into foregoing her household responsibilities for a lazy day in bed with him.
“I have work to do. Papers to grade and clothes to wash. Oh and some pervert,” she said, poking his chest a few times. “has been stealing my panties so I have to go wash them before he gets to them.”
“Oh please, it was just one pair,” he lied, looking away quickly but it wasn’t enough for him to get away with it.
She squinted her eyes at him and he relented. “Fine. It was three. Pink one with the stripes, blue lace ones and a white cotton panty.”
“Pervert!”
“Or I’m just really in love with my wife. You should see the sweet side of it. You don’t know how other guys act on the field. It’s like as soon as they’re in Medellin, they aren’t married.”
“Uh huh?” She said as she tilted her head, her tone suggesting that she wasn’t convinced by his words. “And I’m supposed to be grateful that you aren’t sleeping around? Pendejo!” She punctuated her curse with a slap to his chest.
“That’s not what I meant!” He defended, taking her slapping hand and giving it a kiss.
“Sure, Cabrón.”
He laughed, amused at how adorable she was when angry. He pulled her down to lie down with him, her head on his chest and his hand in her hair. Mornings like these had become so rare. Even without their period of separation, they didn’t have quality time together. Work always called, always overwhelmed and left him with very little to give as a husband. Being too tired to do anything else, he couldn’t even take her out anywhere for dinner. But that would change tonight.
“I made dinner reservations for us. Are you free tonight?”
He’d booked it a while back, but he didn’t know if she would want to go with him after she left. And he didn’t want to promise her a date night before he knew for sure that he would have the day off from work. She did not take it terribly when he had to calculate on her for work, but something told him it wasn’t good for a marriage to keep breaking promises.
“Hmm, I don’t know. This pendejo said he’ll paint my nails and did a half assed job. I might have to book a nail appointment for the night,” she teased, making him laugh. He’d completely forgotten that their activities were preceded by his request to paint her nails.
“I’ll finish the job now,” he said, getting up, but she pushed him back down and trapped him in a loving hug.
“Later. I just wanna stay like this a little longer. Feels good…”
“I like when you hold me like this, mi amor,” he confessed, his voice softening as he opened himself up to allow himself to bask in the euphoria that holding her to his chest brought him.
“I- it calms me down. I need to hear your heart beating. I wake up from bad dreams sometimes and I can’t fall back asleep if I don’t lie down like this.”
He froze. He had no idea she had nightmares. “You never told me.”
“Didn’t want to worry you.”
He said her name softly, making her look up at him from his chest.
“You have to tell me these things,” he said, moving her hair out of the way so he could have an unobstructed view of her. Her features were soft, her eyes open, vulnerable.
“You have a lot on your plate already… I don’t want to be one of your problems.”
“Jesus,” he swore before sighing. “You’re not- I’ll never think of you as a problem. I understand why you worry. It’s not unwarranted. I would never ask you to hide your feelings for me. I thought we talked about these things. You’re the one who’s always telling me that we should communicate about difficult things. What happened to that?”
“Do you remember when I made you choose? Either date me for real or stop coming over for anything other than sex?”
He hummed in response, encouraging her to continue. They'd been fooling around for around two months back then and one night when he was dressing himself to leave, she forced him to confront how he’d been treating her— he’d been giving her mixed signals, pulling her in and pushing her away. He’d act like her boyfriend one minute but get distant the next and she was understandably annoyed.
“And you said you wanted to date me but you warned me that your job was dangerous and that attachments were a weakness. I didn’t want to be your weakness, I still—”
He shook her head, interrupting her mid-sentence, “I was talking out of my ass, I was just scared. And it’s different now. We’re—”
“Yeah but when I think of you strapping a gun and badge on yourself to go out and get shot at by those malparidos, I want to stop you,” she choked on her words, getting up off his chest and hugging her knees to her chest. “I told you I could handle it. That day and the day you asked me to marry you. But, I can’t. I can’t handle it. Ever since Steve was kidnapped- and I know you said he wasn’t in any real danger, but fuck! It was terrifying to see Connie like that and I couldn’t help but worry and put myself in her place. And I couldn’t stop thinking about every terrible thing that could happen to you and I just wanted to lock you up at home. So I left- because I don’t want to be your weakness. But I can’t be brave, I can’t be strong.”
It broke his heart to know that behind the scenes, behind her easy smiles and her strong shoulders he leaned on everyday, there was so much fear. So much insecurity. There was shame too. Had he been more attentive, he would’ve known without her having to tell him, without her having to run away.
He sat up, pulled her close and placed a kiss on her head. “You are brave and you’ve been so strong, putting up with more of my shit than you need to… Sometimes I think I won’t get through this with my soul intact if it weren’t for you. So never think that you’re my weakness.”
She listened, her eyebrows furrowed and eyes never leaving him. She bit down on her lip, pulling at the skin with her teeth, something she did when anxious. He reached over and thumbed her lip, not wanting to wait until she started bleeding.
“I… I’ve put you in a difficult position, but I would never ask you to hide your fears for my comfort. And you leaving definitely did not make me stronger. Just scared the hell out of me. I thought I’d done something so shit that you’d left for good.”
“Sorry I left… I just—”
“I’m sorry you couldn’t talk to me. Not like that would’ve solved anything,” he scoffed, rubbing his eyes. “Nothing short of stopping that bastard is going to solve this.”
“I know, I know…” she sighed.
“I’ll get him,” he affirmed, taking her hands in his. All the things he’d done since he landed in Colombia, all the things he’d lost because of that man… To think he might lose her too… It was chilling. He’d lost friends, made enemies, became the guy everyone called an asshole for not cutting corners, for not putting up with anything that wasn’t right. He’d lost so much, but she wasn’t going to be one of them. He wouldn’t allow it.
Javier Peña wouldn’t rest until Escobar was history.
.
.
.
Series Masterlist
#javier peña#javier pena fic#javier peña fic#javier peña fluff#javier pena fanfiction#javier pena imagine#javier peña x reader#javier peña x you#javier peña x ofc#javier peña x y/n#javier peña smut#javier pena angst#javier pena narcos#javier peña fanfiction#narcos javier#narcos fanfiction#narcos fic#narcos smut#javier peña hurt/comfort#married javier peña#husband!javier peña x reader#josé pedro balmaceda pascal#pedro pascal#pedro pascal character fanfic#warning: bad spanish#all that i've inflicted on the world
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youtube
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javi fucking a cartel don’s daughter, telling himself it’s to gain intel but really it’s the way you scream his name and suck him in like he’s the only man who’s ever existed.
he’s addicted to you, he comes crawling back to you whenever he gets a moment of peace. you’re not like his other escapades. you’re kind and warm and good and he tells himself you’re just part of the system, you’ll fuck him over one day, but he can’t think about that when he’s burying himself in the warmth of your cunt or coating your tongue. or when you’re tearing up from feeling so good and javier has to stop himself from asking you to be his, so he holds onto whatever he was feeling.
and javi knew exactly what it was, he knew he’d spent far too many nights between your legs, getting off just by your taste and voice, to warrant any casual feelings but he would deal with that later. right now he would enjoy making you feel like you reached god.
a/n: the urge to make a one-shot about cartel don’s daughter!reader and javier …lemme know what y’all think
#javier pena#javier peña#javier pena imagine#javier peña drabble#javier peña x y/n#javier peña x reader#javier peña x you#narcos javier#except i only watched like two episodes#pls dont hate me#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal x y/n#pedro pascal x reader
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desperately in need of a brown eyed mustached agent named javier
#javier peña#javier pena#pedro pascal#narcos#narcos javier#javier peña narcos#javier peña x reader#javier pena fluff#javier pena x reader#javier pena imagine#javier peña imagine#agent whiskey#din djarin#jack daniels#joel miller#mandalorian#one shot#the mandalorian#pedro pascal pictures
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The Casualty of Love
CHAPTER 4
Summary: He's back home. You have almost forgotten how warm his eyes were and how big your crush for him was.
Warnings: Age gap (Javi is 40 and reader is 27), dry humping, kissing, mentions of mental health, mild insecurity from reader, cockblocking. (let me know if I left out any warnings)
Rating: +18 (a little explicit)
Word Count: 2k
Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Masterlist
A/N: Here's chapter 4 guys!! Hope you enjoy it. None of my work is beta read, so there might be some mistakes or things like that. Remember that english isn't my first language; feel free to help me improve but always been kind.
Javier makes his way through the backyard to where his dad is; before talking, he takes a deep breath “Pops, i'm heading out” the fingers on the hand by his side fidgeting.
“Already Javier? You haven't lasted even two hours this time…” Chucho sighs while putting the plate of barbacued chicken down.
“Yeah, pops, you know I hate these things…” he says, not meeting Chucho´s eyes.
“You didn't seem to be having the worst of times in there” Chucho points to the house with his head.
At Chucho´s comment, anxiety takes control over Javier´s body; maybe his dad did see something, what if he was too lost in your beautiful eyes and lips to notice?
“You both always knew how to comfort each other” Chucho continues after the lack of speaking from Javier “She always knew that you needed to get away from crowds at these things, so when you eventually disappeared, she just would lie to your mama and Maria, saying that you were at the bathroom or something else that would make them not come looking for you”
“Well, it seems we´ve spent way too long apart” Chucho observes that Javi´s feet have started to fidget and he worries “You think someone could drive you later? I wouldn't want to stop your fun” Javier´s eyes finally meet Chucho´s, making his dad even worry more for him when he sees anxiety in them.
“Javier, is everything okay? I don't mind going home already if you´re not fine… it's not like they don't make one of these every week or two weeks” Chucho says, ready to get up from his chair and leave.
“No, no, pops i'm fine, just a little overwhelmed, that's it” he calms his dad, reaching a hand out to stop him from getting up.
“You sure?” Javi nods to reassure him “well then okay, i'll ask someone to give me a ride back later” he looks at Javi as serious as he can now “call Doña Lucia´s home phone if you need anything, the number is on the phone book that's in the kitchen, okay mijo?”
“Yes pops, i will if i need to” he pats Chucho´s shoulder once and then turns towards the fence door to go back towards the truck.
When Javi left the inside of the house at first fear took hold of your body, fear of rejection, fear of him avoiding you in regret of what could've happened if his dad had not come in. Soon that fear becomes anger, at him for just stomping out of the situation without acknowledgment, anger of you or the situation, or both for that matter.
As you said, you´re not a teeneager anymore, you´re not letting him do this, specially him; any other man would be a disappointment but they would just disappear from your life eventually, but him, even if you wanted to get him out of your life, which you think you would never want, it would never work, Chucho was your family and you would never abandon him and your mom was his family as well.
You hop off the kitchen counter, put the beer in your hand down, not caring even the slightest about it now, and go through the house towards the front door. You step out onto the front porch, your eyes survey the front of the house, searching for the truck you´ve known for many years now, through the sea of cars from the people who have come to the get together. As soon as you see it, you walk to it and see that no one is inside of it yet.
You know him, you know he's going to try to run from the situation, so he's going to come to the truck eventually. You lean into the driver's door, crossing your arms over your chest; right now you don't even care about the killing heat from the sun shooting straight at you from above or that your shoes are forgotten somewhere in the backyard.
Your mind goes through a million things you want to tell him when he comes but as soon as your ears pick up on the sound of the fence door by the side of the house, you are not sure what you want to tell him, insecurity hurts your chest. What if he was actually going to shove you back before Chucho came in instead of leaning in?
You can hear him curse when he sees you there leaning into his truck.
“Vampirita…” he says when he stops about two big strides from you, his tone pleading.
“No, don't vampirita me” you uncross your arms, letting them fall at your sides “you´re not running away from this, i'm not letting you”
He takes one stride towards you, but still he's not as close as you want him, as you need him “this,” he points at the air between you “can't happen”
A twinge of pain crosses your chest and one of your hands shoots to it like it could physically take it away “why not?” you know your eyes are already glossy, the fear of rejection you had before is now becoming a real thing. You feel like a little kid right now, and you're hating yourself for it.
“Because you…you are you and i'm me, cariño” he makes the attempt to touch you but he stops himself halfway.
You scoff “what an amazing argument Javier” you take a little step towards him, still leaving some distance between you two “I don't know if you´ve notice, but we are both consent adults”
“Trust me, cariño, i ́ve definitely noticed it'' his eyes can't help to run your body “that is the problem”
“Then…” you break the space between you both, your fingers caressing his upper arm “kiss me, please”
Please, you just said please, to him… Javier closes his eyes hard, feeling the cord of control inside of him tense more and more every second you stand there in front of him, your fingers touching him even over his white short sleeved button up.
“Javi…” he opens his eyes after hearing you “please…”
And just like that the cord of self control snaps; one of his hands goes straight to tangle into your hair, the other takes home in your lower back. His lips collide with yours; the sweetest honey he's ever had.
He kisses you like his life depends on it, it starts slow and sweet, but after a moment it becomes hungry. You open your mouth, an invitation to him, and he can't help but groan as his tongue meets yours.
He feels one of your hands fist the front of his button up by his stomach, the other palm flat in his chest, where his buttons are open.
Javier can't think of a moment that felt more in peace and right in his life, even if guilt was eating him from inside. He has kissed many people during his life but right now he felt like this was his first kiss ever.
You felt fire inside of you. You had thought about what kissing him would be like a million times since you were a teenager but no imagination would ever come close to how the real thing feels like. You feel his entire body pressed against yours, his warm hand on your lower back drawing you more into him, if it was possible; his desire for you reassured by the feeling of his bulge against you.
When his lips travel from your own lips to your jaw and then your neck, you can't help but let a soft moan out. As soon as it leaves your mouth you feel him slightly biting your pulse point. You pull at the curls on the nape of the back of his neck and your hips can't help to seek some friction to relieve the ache at your core; his thigh now in between your own two.
Just after the first roll of your hips, you both can hear your mother calling from you just from the other side of the front door of the house.
“Mija, are you in here?” she asks while pushing open the front door. You and Javier pull away from each other faster than you´ve ever moved before.
“Oh there you both are ¿Tu padre me dijo que se iba mijo? (your dad told me that you´re leaving son?)” she asks Javier when she´s in front of you; Javi hasn't turned around towards her yet, too afraid since the front of his jeans are tented still. Your mom looks between you two with a confused face.
“Si, ma. (yes, mom) I was just accompanying him to the truck in case there was any car blocking the way, you know, to alert the owner if it was the case” you hope your lie is believable enough. She looks at you now.
“Está ruborizada, mija. Debería alejarse del sol un rato (You're flustered daughter. You should stay away from the sun for a bit)” she tells you with a worried look on her face, always the protective mother.
“I will ma” you answer thanking all the gods above that she doesn't question the situation.
She looks at Javier, who is still not facing her, and looks at you again. She mouths to you, pointing with her head at Javier, “is he okay?”. You take the opportunity and shake your head no, better for her to worry a little about him and think that you´re both here because he's not okay and you´re comforting him, that she thinks that you may be doing what you were actually doing just moments ago.
She nods and then says “well, i'll see you another day mijo, cuídese (take care)” she then returns to the party through the fence door.
You know he's fighting against his own mind again, so you talk before he gets the opportunity to convince himself of anything.
“Hey, we haven't done anything wrong. So, stop that thought” you say quickly, grabbing his face between your hands, making him look at you straight into your eyes.
“Yeah? Are you sure about that, vampirita? Because I feel like an asshole that took advantage of the daughter of the woman that raised him alongside his own mom” he confesses to you with an angry look on his face, but you know his anger is not towards you but to himself.
“Advantage? Again, I'm a consenting adult and that was a consented kiss for sure. If anyone would ever be forced into a kiss it would be you not me” you let his face go when you start saying the last part.
His hands are the ones now framing your face “Cariño, i wanted that kiss the same as you if not more” he makes you look at him into his eyes, so you can read him just like always “Dios (God) I'm going to hell” he tells more to himself than to you “I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since we saw each other on that parking lot” you can see only truth and longing in his eyes.
You put your hands over his on your cheeks “Well then that makes two of us” you let out a little chuckle “we could try this… keep it between us until we know it´ll work…” you look at him with hope in your eyes.
Javier can't help but let out a big sigh “every bone in me tells me to not let happen any of this, but i don't think i´ve ever been able to tell you no, vampirita” you can't help your face from forming the biggest smile you´ve ever had, you launch into him and wrap your arms around him, then you kiss him again.
Next chapter
#narcos#chucho peña narcos#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#javier peña narcos#narcos javier#javier peña fic#javier peña x reader#javier peña x f!reader#javier peña x you#javier pena fic#javier pena fanfiction#javier peña fanfiction#javier pena x reader#javier pena x f!hispanic reader#javier peña x f!hispanic reader#javier pena x f!reader#pedro pascal stories#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal fanfiction#narcos fic#narcos fanfiction#pedrostories
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[SUMMARY: You’re a DEA agent who gets hurt and tries to hide it from Javi, only making him more protective of you.]
“Next time she’s with you and she gets hurt, you fucking call me. I don’t care what she tells you.”
Angst/Fluff
Today you teamed up with Murphy to visit a bar and interview a few workers there who were a witness to a shooting. Javier of course wasnt fond of the idea that you were assigned to this, but it was your job. The two of you were seeing each other for a few months now and it was safe to say he grew protective of you as time went on.
Arriving to the bar you immediately grew suspicious of the workers around you. Murphy could see it too yet before either of you could make a move, gun fire went off. The two of you hiding behind the bar you pulled out your guns and fought back.
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me” Murphy groaned before standing up and firing a few shots and hiding once more.
“When I count to three, we’re gonna go out that back door,” he whispered to you as you had your gun ready, finger on the trigger.
“1….2….3” the two of you ran as gun shots rung out around you.
“Shit!” You screamed attempting to fire back when a man appeared and shot your way, hitting your waist. Murphy shot the man in the head as you fell back and winced holding onto your side.
“Oh fuck-“ you panted looking down, but quickly realized the bullet never went in.
“I’m fine, I’m fine, it only grazed me.” You spoke in relief through the pain you felt before noticing Murphys expression.
“Don’t you dare tell Javi!” Your words making him look up at you.
“I’ll get banadaged up and he won’t suspect a thing. Promise me!” You spoke sternly. Murphy sighed and nodded his head before helping you up and getting out of there.
Later that night you sat at the office desk across from Murphy as Javi rushed inside towards you.
“I heard about the shoot out, why didn’t you call me?” Javi sat on the edge of your desk with his arms crossed staring down at you.
“There was nothing to call for, the men got away and we were fine. Right Murphy?” You looked over at Murphy as Javi didn’t take his eyes off you. You could see the concern he had but you kept a straight face.
“Mhm,” Murphy responded as he filled out paper work.
“I don’t like you going to these places, Pablo’s people are always around there.”
“And what do you think I can’t handle these men, Javi?” You raised a brow with a smirk as you stood up ignoring the pain on your side.
“I’m being serious.” He furrowed his brows, the tone in his voice making you sigh.
“Javi-“ just as you went to speak he unexpectedly put his hands on your waist pulling you into him. The piercing pain of your wound causing you to scream and quickly back away.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” He rushed to you as you winced holding your side.
“Jesus Christ you’re fucking bleeding-“
“Javi, I’m fine.” You insisted with a whisper.
“You’re not fine- get me a damn doctor!” He yelled at Murphy who quickly ran to get someone. Javier helped you to the back to an empty room at the station and sat you down. He placed his hand over yours covering your wound just as a medic walked in.
“Im fine I just-“
“She was grazed by a bullet earlier today.” Murphy cut in without looking your way.
“What?” Javier looked down at you with his hands on his hips.
“So you were shot at.” Javier flared his nostrils and turned away. Worry turned into anger at the thought of anyone even attempting to hurt you.
“Javi- ow!” You gasped making Javier quickly turn back to you as the doctor pressed down on your wound.
“What are you doing?” You asked in pain.
“You’re hurting her,” the urgency in Javis voice making the doctor ease up.
“Your stitches opened up, I’ll have to clean it up and stitch you up again.” The doctor explained. You sighed laying your head back looking at the ceiling. Javier was pissed, worried and on edge, he paced back and fourth in the room as the doctor took care of you. Any sound of a whimper he’d immediately stop and look at you hating that he couldn’t do more for you, hating that he couldn’t take away the pain.
“Peña why don’t you go have a smoke and relax-“
“Next time she’s with you and she gets hurt, you fucking call me. I don’t care what she tells you.” Javier stopped and whispered in Murphys face who only knodded in response.
“Are you almost done?” You winced looking down as the doctor stitched you up. Javier quickly rushed to your side and cursed at himself.
“Now I’m done,” the doctor finally finsihed and placed a bandage over the wound. You both thanked him as he walked out with Murphy leaving you and Javier alone.
Javi had his back to you as he took a deep breath.
“Javi-“
“Don’t ever pull something like this again,” he spoke sternly.
“Javi, please I didn’t want to worry you.” He turned to you with a much softer look in his eyes than you expected.
“I always worry about you.” He stepped closer to you as you slowly stood up. Standing before you he looked down into your eyes, his hands gently taking hold of your face as he leaned in and planted his lips on yours.
“And what about you?” You whispered.
“What about me?”
“I need you to be careful too.”
“Nothings going to happen to me mi amor.” He caressed his thumb across your cheek as you leaned your face against his hand. Closing your eyes you sighed, you couldn’t see but he looked at you in a way no man had ever looked at you before, your safety was all that mattered to him.
#pedro pascal#javier pena imagine#javier pena x reader#javier peña x you#javi peña#narcos fanfiction#narcos javier#javier pena angst#javier pena fic#javier pena fanfiction
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Liquid Courage (Javier Peña x F!Reader Drabble)
t/w: drunk javi, sexual tension/sexual descriptions, needy/desperate javi
a/n: i got very drunk last night and wrote this, i hope you like it! any ideas for some drabbles send them to my asks and i might try to write them! thanks! sorry it’s not more, i was really drunk and kept losing myself while writing LOL
·̩̩̥＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥·̩̩̥＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥·̩̩̥＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥·̩̩̥＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥
You were quickly shaken from the peaceful slumber you had found yourself in. Work was definitely a bit of a handful, what with all of the files you needed to pull for anyone that asked. Yet, today seemed even more incessant than the others as you had to rush up and down and up down every staircase in the building. Your hands doing the best they could to hold each file as close to your body as you could, holding it tight against your chest as you kept running to and fro.
The knocking was loud. Incessant. You blinked away the sleep that held itself behind your eyes. Not even fully comprehending that you had fallen asleep on your couch as soon as you stepped in the door. Not even out of your shoes, as the black heels hung loosely off of your toes from the end of the couch.
But you did your best to kick them back onto your feet as you slowly rose from the dark black leather, rubbing your eyes as you gazed across to the clock that hung itself in your kitchen.
2:36 AM.
No matter what was on the other side of that door, it had to either be extremely important, or some sort of ace murderer.
Yet thank whoever is above for small favors as you did your best to clack over to your front door, peeking through your small peep hole to see an all too familiar face.
Javier Peña.
A long sigh pushed itself from your lips as you knew that not unlocking the door would result in more trouble tomorrow. Your hand gently moved to the deadbolt, clicking it undone and no sooner than you had opened the door did you feel the agents hands running along your hips and pulling you close.
No sooner than you had laid eyes on him, were his lips devouring yours. Pushing himself past the threshold of your front door as he gave a soft whine against your lips.
Absolutely unexpected.
Though, you could not say you were upset, feeling yourself melt against the agent slowly. Your hands moved to grip onto the leather of his jacket, pushing him back slightly, as the taste of whiskey on his lips was unmistakable.
"Mmn, Peña.." You whispered, feeling his lips crash against yours again, teeth clashing together as it was fueled by desperation.
You pushed back one more time, your eyes peering over his own. Half lidded and clouded in a haze you'd never seen before.
"You're drunk.." you whispered, questioning even yourself at the way you wanted to just taste him again. But, it just didn't feel completely right.
A whine.. A WHINE, escaped Javier's throat as he looked to you, his chocolate depths peering into b what felt like your core, "Not that drunk... Please..."
Peña's hands tightened on your hips as he rolled his own against you. The strain in his always too tight jeans evident as you felt him grind against your thigh.
How was this the same agent you saw so confident and snarky each and every day?
"Please..." He repeated, his hips still moving on their own, moving in a small rhythm as he continued to push his hardening length against the plush of your thighs.
"Need you.." He plead, pulling you in again, this time kissing along your jaw as he kicked the door closed behind him.
You wanted so desperately to give in. Every nerve ending in your body alight with a need for him.
"Mmn, I will.. If you take it slow and come down a bit first.." You had whispered against the shell of his ear, having to pull yourself back from his nips and bites along your soft jaw.
Another whine, this one frustrated and quiet as his fingers pushed tighter into the plush of your hips. Having found his way under the hem of your work shirt as he went.
"I promise.." You whispered, rutting your hips forward to meet his own. Giving him some acknowledgement of your own of how badly you wanted to let go of that control and just let him. Let him do as he wished to your body.
But, you couldn't. Not right now.
It was the beginnings of what was looking to be a long evening.
#javier pena x reader#javier pena imagine#javier pena#narcos javier#narcos javier pena x reader#narcos#javier pena x f reader#javier pena drabble#javier pena smut#javier pena x you#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x you#i'm bad at tags
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A list of all my favourite JAVIER PEÑA Fic Recs, with the writers tagged. Includes fics I am currently reading/want to read.
PART 3
Please show some love to the writers by re-blogging and commenting on their work. 🖤
⚠️ Please ensure you check the triggers/warnings etc... on the stories themselves as some of them may not be suitable to your own particular tastes.
Drenched - @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin
Stuffing - @palioom
Vampire Drabble & Vampiros En Colombia Series - @boliv-jenta Vampire!Javi
Happy Birthday Javi & River - @cherry-holmes
What Do We Have Here? - @secretelephanttattoo
Cariño Mio - @creedslove
4K - @loslentesdepedrito Featuring Tim Rockford
Take The Weight Off His Shoulders Series - @thetriumphantpanda DBF!Javi
Every Inch - @javierpena-inatacvest
Paranoid Heart Series - @goodwithcheese
Miracle - @cherry-holmes
Arde Tu Piel - @fhatbhabie PlusSize!Reader
When Our Time Meets - @blackfemalenerd Plus Size OFC
Constructive Criticism - @lincolndjarin
Kinktober 2023 Handjob - @ghostofaboy M!Reader
Sex Tapes - @odetodilfs M!Reader
Little Bunny - @pascalsbby
Movie Night & Soup For Breakfast - @javierpena-inatacvest
Kinktober Uniform & DP In One Hole - @palioom
Deja Vu - @ilovepedro
You Call & I Come Running - @chronically-ghosted Sex Pollen
Let Me Fade Away - @johnwatsn Dark!Javi
Have You Ever Seen The Rain? @psychedelic-ink PlusSize!Reader
Infections Of A Different Kind Series - @psychedelic-ink FEDRA!Javi
Jealous Of Your Love - @chloeangelic
Catching A Break - @lucyeyelesbarrow
Ways To Ease The Stress - @tokkiwrites
What The Lady Wants - @tempestuous-lush
La Lluvia - @creedslove
Javi Masterlist - @forever-rogue Couldn't choose just one!
Glimpse of A Life With Javier Pena Series - @cherry-holmes
Just Good Friends - @secretelephanttattoo
The Raid - @toxicanonymity Dark!Javi
Kinktober Hand Job & Anal Sex - @ghostofaboy M!Reader
Uniform - @palioom
Movie Night - @javierpena-inatacvest
When You Wish Upon A Shooting Star - @mandoisapunk
Pent Up - @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin
An American Hero - @secretelephanttattoo
#javier peña#javier pena narcos#javier pena fic#javier pena fanfiction#javi peña#javi p x reader#javi pena#javier pena x you#javi p x f!reader#narcos javier#pedro pascal narcos#pedro pascal#javier pena x reader#javier pena x ofc#narcos fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#fic recs
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#digital art#art#pedrohub#pedro pascal#artwork#fanart#pedro pascal fandom#jose pedro balmaceda pascal#narcos#javier pena fanfiction#javier peña#javier pena x reader#javi p#javier pena#narcos javier#javi p x reader#javier pena smut
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in my room
javier peña x f!reader | masterlist
summary: Because it’s an exchange, a two-way thing. He doesn’t tell you he likes your hair and you don’t tell him you fuck him so you don’t think.
wordcount: 6.2k (im so sorry, this was meant to be short)
warnings: explicit. smut + angst. colleagues who fuck for stress relief. grumpy-ish javi. file room shenanigans. unprotected p in v. oral!f receiving, mention of m!receiving. javi’s hand being a necklace. cum eating (by Javi), mild rough sex? mentions of grief (due to canon-compliant death), season two compliant/spoilers for season two. javi has a filthy mouth. joetics (jo and her poetic nature, credit to @/goodwithcheese for the name), no use of y/n but javi calls you princesa/baby.
an: dedicated to javi-edit-anon, hope you're doing okay.
It begins swarmed in grief.
A chest full of conflicting emotions, fingers itching for another smoke. It is all put into motion by the same person who became the catalyst—the match to the flame, the cause of the inferno.
He doesn’t usually wander around the building. But, today was a lot of firsts. Jaw clenched. Fingers digging into his palm at the memory, the realisation—the fucking play-by-play—of how he’d been played, fucked over, used.
Now, he’s left riddled with the knowledge that he’d lost a friend a few hours ago because of something he did. The understanding of it rusting in his stomach, right next door to the place disgrace is building a home where his gut had been.
He’s not thinking, not seeking—a desperation to run and hide, yet has nowhere to go.
And then he comes across you.
Finds you in the hallway like you were sent to save him. To pull him out of the water, pump the liquid from his lungs and smother the flames from burning his skin.
The two of you having stopped, paused in your travels.
Just two isolated shadows in the middle of the corridor—an invisible line being drawn, a noticeable white mark—backlit by sorrow and emptiness.
You don’t tear your eyes from him. Stubborn, even on your loss. Purposefully, intentionally, holding his gaze across the empty corridor.
Usually, you're so put together he feels contempt at how you seem unfazed at being surrounded by the shit they all have to do daily. But now, you look every bit as undone as him—shirt untucked, sadness stitched into your usually tight, rigid frame.
The only thing similar is the way you look at him, just like you did when the hours ticked on during those late nights you were forced to work together.
Files opened, documents scoured. Two eyes fairing better than one in their search. The toe of your shoe tapping against his desk, your fingers circling the rim of your mug full of coffee (never liquor, only coffee), pen clicking and clicking—
It had been Carrillo who had paired the two of you. Handing him a task, a surname—one Javi hadn’t heard—and the option of an extra pair of hands: you’ll see she’s good, and we don’t want her poached.
Then, he’d laid eyes on you.
You who’d he’d seen around, but never the chance to talk to. Had no reason to. You forever moved in any direction but the one he was heading in whenever he came into sight. That had been well over a month ago, weeks now.
In that time, he learnt your snark, your laugh—the way you take your coffee and your petulance for sugar after 8 pm—all proper in how you handle yourself, like royalty.
It’s then he learned that you hated being called princesa. Lips curling when it dripped from his lips, back straightening—all close to fracturing, snapping. So naturally, he called it you more.
It became—like the rest of it—a habit. He dropped the name as easily as he began pushing some of his shit to the side for you, so you had a space, a small corner of his desk you could commandeer when you joined him.
It didn’t mean anything. A thing be recited, thought to himself as he buried himself inside Gabriela—who looked nothing like you.
Then, a week ago, you were already there before he got back. The soles of his shoes had come to a standstill at the top of the steps, staring at the back of you—taking you in.
There was no need to see your face, Javi knew that you knew he was there. Not saying a thing when he seated himself down, the same way he didn’t with each tap of your shoes’ toe against the metal frame and you bit the end of your pen. He’d decided weeks ago, when you wore a shirt you felt the need to undo two buttons off, that if you weren’t paired with him to torture him, he wasn’t sure what else you were sitting next to him to test him for. But he’d find out, work it out.
Then you cracked it—found it, the anomaly, the name, a connection. A semblance of something in a sea of shit. A straw to grasp, to pull—your lips, likely stained from coffee and ink, twisting into a grin, one he couldn’t help but admire.
“¿Cómo?”
Pulling a face, he had only shrugged, feeling you watch him, answering with a, “You’re good.”
“You just realised? You just notice I got tits, too?”
Leaning back in his chair, he shifts his jaw to the side. Watching you stack papers before holding his stare, letting you see him flick his eyes from yours to your lips. Suddenly all unsure how to even begin telling you that he’d noticed you—had done so since they were all forced into this fucking building.
But you’d caught him, snapped him in plain sight with those beautiful eyes of yours. “Resorting to kissing colleagues now. Fucking whores not doing it for you, Peña?”
He had smirked, wider, but it had been tough. Leaning forward, he traced his bottom lip with his thumb. “You heard about that.”
Nodding, you’d smiled—cockily, full of something other than kindness. “Half the women will be lining up if they think you have free time.”
“But not you?”
Then, you’d stood, head tilted, files in the neatest pile compared to the rest of his desk, as you rolled your lips. “No. Not me. Goodnight, Peña.”
That exchange had been before things had gone to shit.
Before his cock had undone it all, left several people dead and the person who’d paired you together, gone. Taken—leaving a widow and children without a father.
Snorting, he focuses on clearing his throat as he replays it all. How much of a fever dream it all feels, his other hand pinching his thigh as he stares at you studying him, not scurrying off like he half expects.
And the fact you don’t makes his fingers itch at his side.
A part of him, suddenly stronger than all other parts, battles to move closer to you—like he needs to see what your mouth feels like on his. Like he’s been without his fill. It’s why even as much as he wants you to close the gap, he doesn’t move. Wants you to have an out—an escape.
A chance to choose whether you want to wake up with regret. Because even he knows sleeping with him ends in two ways, and shame is usually one of them.
“You should go inside your room.”
But of course you don’t. Instead, it’s the soles of your shoes on the floor that get louder, closer.
“Do you want me to, Peña?”
It’s building, rising. His eyes trailing up and down you, mouth chewing his tongue as he gets another taste of liquor, as he finally lets his gaze land back on yours.
“You want me to walk away from you?”
No. It’s final. Gruff. More spat out than said—laced with failure and remorse—but you hear him. Loud and fucking clear.
So much so, your lips twist up, smirking more devilish than he knows what to do with. “Good.”
It’s quick—you’re quick. Yanking him close as he forces you flush against him. His mouth crashes, steals and takes as his lips sear themselves to yours. And he learns, quickly, you’re not soft, but biting.
You are all jagged sweetness that throws a curve ball in how he knows how to handle this. You. Your lips taste of sadness, tears and liquor, all cheap—so very unlike what he imagines for you—and you make a knot tighten in his core as your palm flattens over his hardening cock in his jeans.
“You tested?” he asks, hand cupping your jaw, tilting your eyes up, pulse racing against his wrist—skin warm, scorching.
“Are you!?” you spit, and he almost snorts until your fingers knot in the base of his hair, pulling, likely hoping it hurts.
And it does.
Makes him groan—but he’s quick to smother it in the back of his throat. Flatten it, hide and conceal. Getting his answer for an exchange of your own.
“We should go inside my room,” you say in response to him, pulling down on him, Javi finding he bends with far too much ease as his ear finds itself close to your lips, “I’m not quiet when I’m enjoying myself.”
Twisting you, he flattens your back to his chest, rough, hearing you breathlessly laugh. “You know what you’re doing, baby, huh?”
And you’re silent, brain whirring as he begins walking you, till your chest is almost against your door.
Open it, he whispers, watching your hand dig for the key, his mouth latching to your neck, swirling a circle on your skin, tasting lingering perfume and sweat as he grips your waist.
“Last chance.”
He hears you laugh, low, buried somewhere in your throat just as the door unlocks, all loud, cutting through the silence other than both of your racing breaths. It’s why, he supposes, his words echo in his stare as you turn your head. Rolling your lips. It's all so reminiscent of the stare you gave him at the foot of his desk—but this time, you collide your mouth with his.
Not leaving—not doing anything except turning in the space between your door and him. Those nails, the ones that tapped now scrape across his hair, burying, carding, as you lightly pull on strands—forcing a groan to bury itself in your throat, find a new home, live there.
It's quick, practically animalistic the way he sheds your layers—baring you, finding (unsurprising) that even in misery you still match. His fingers run over it on your hip, rolling his lips, the tip of his tongue swiping across as he admires, as he steals a second to commit you to his mind.
Because he’s not sure if he’ll ever get to again.
“Last chance,” you echo.
Repeating his words, using them against him. Flicking the fabric against your skin, he snorts and he flips you. Sharply telling you to get on your bed, all-fours—bend over, hermosa.
“This how you pictured it at your desk?”
He barely registers your words until he’s behind you, bare, hand sliding between your thighs as he smirks at the noise you make. How you take him, all the way up to his knuckles—his free hand stroking himself to the in and out his other hand sets, desperation mixing with a need to forget—for a moment peace from thinking, existing, being.
And you’re drenched. Practically desperate. Hips moving with his movements and strokes, the air tinged with the littlest whimpers before replacing his fingers with the head of his cock, dragging it, skating it spitefully over your slick folds.
That’s when it meets his ears, those distinct words—ones he doesn’t know will haunt him just yet—I want to feel you inside me, Peña.
It unlocks something—floods him. Taking in a breath before he glides in, burying himself in you, right to the hilt, going deep.
He revels in your tightness. The way you gasp at the feel of him—fingers digging, scrunching them into your sheets, before he wrenches you up off your hands, needing your back flush with his—a move he realises, painstakingly, he’s done before.
Softening his palm anchored on your hip, lips pressing to your jaw—the other hand busy feeling, enjoying, basking in how you swallow against his palm on your neck.
“You like that, princesa?”
You moan as his hips snap, taking him so well, so perfectly—a thing he tells you, a rush of good girl, good princesa taking me like this. And he expects a bite, a flurry of insults—an exchange that would mean this would shift from stress relief to hate fucking.
But it never arrives. Instead, it’s a barrage of chants, all yes, please, yes, painting the shitty room—giving the crumbling paint something to be disgusted at, other than its own despair. The metal legs of the bed squeal against the floor, the headboard hammering, and cluttering, leaving a mess of years of repainting along the cheap flooring.
“Take me so well. Y’know that?”
Fingers just above your collarbone, pressing, feeling your head resting on his shoulder, eyes seeking his, determined to locate them and take something from him for it. He lets you. Briefly, just enough.
“Harder, Peña,” you hiss, shoving it out through clenched teeth, blinking, breaking the eye line.
“Javi,” he hisses deep into your ear, hand sliding down between your thighs—above where the two of you are joined.
Thumb expertly swirling, tracing the letters of his name against your throbbing clit—the sound of his cock fucking into you growing louder, sloppier. Arm thrown around your waist, feeling the way your skin is sheened in sweat, practically a mess from head to fucking toe, all because of him. Crown slid, shattered in a thousand parts across the floor, because of him.
A realisation that almost nears him to the edge, to bursting, to emptying inside your perfect fucking pussy and stuffing you full of him.
Teeth gritted together, jaw tight as he peers at the place your bodies join—watching, in admiration, as you take him, suck him in, barely let him able to leave your tight pussy as your heart hammers against his forearm.
“When I’m doing this to you,” he grunts, teeth pinching at your ear, your hand gripping his wrist—thumb still swirling, the A and V being a favourite from the way you clench around him tighter, and tighter, “You call me Javi.”
It undoes you. It ripples and then bursts through you—clenching all around him, tightening, squeezing him until his vision blurs and your name curls somewhere on his tongue, all set to be spat, spoken, even fucking whispered. Somehow able to swallow it when it unfurls through him, when it shoots up his spine and surges through every nerve and muscle.
The two of you collapsing against the shitty mattress, the squealing bed, as you turn in his grasp—lips finding his, burying words against him, only soft murmurs finding his ears.
He’s hard to avoid.
More so, when a part of you wishes to be a puzzle—a thing he cannot crack. Something that would take time to understand and figure out. Because then you’d be interesting, layered, something that could matter.
All of which, you suspect he knows when he kisses you after having his face buried before your thighs, tongue saturated in you, now licking into your mouth.
There’s something truthful in it, in the way his palm cups your entire jaw and chin, holding you, keeping you rooted for a few moments before you taste yourself on his tongue and can take note of what he’s done to you. For you.
Except, you don’t meet his eyes. Somehow fearful the space between your thighs has spilled all your secrets to him. Because he’s a connoisseur, likely gifted in being able to decipher the text on your inner walls. Hooked nose dragging along your slick core before coming up for air and seeing how ordinary you were, how boring, how average. He’s likely traced the pads of his fingers over the etchings of all the things that haunt your mind, the things that thrum and go bump in the fucking night.
But he comes back. Again, and again.
And you can't understand why.
You don’t ask either. Instead, you bury any of that against his tongue, and when it’s desperate to come out, a wish to ask him, you instead choose with fluttering lashes and parted lips if you can suck his cock. If he can fuck your throat, if he can stuff you full in one end before the other—
Words can’t escape if your tongue is occupied.
A thing harder to do in the day-to-day. As things around the place return to normal—other priorities sweep over and make people forget their sadness.
It’s why you’re not avoiding him, but you haven’t sought him out.
Too afraid of what you’ll confess when you’re not on your knees. A simple softening of his brown eyes almost forces words to rip up your throat and colour the air.
It won’t do any good. No words will. Not after waking again entangled in an empty sheet. All evidence of his presence gone except the littering of bruises on your hips and thighs and the mess between your legs.
It’s easier, less complicated to keep it like this—a thing you tell yourself as you brush your teeth and wash the leftover tang of him from your mouth.
Stress release, an undoing, an antidote to sadness and a bandage that allows you a moment to heal. You don’t judge him, because he doesn’t judge you either—not the first time, the second or the tenth. Because like recognises like—eyes deciphering how you’re not that different from him.
On the surface, you may pretend to be. Layer secrets and annoyances on top of the other, until it slips into something perfect—a mask, one that any of them can’t peer through and see that you see them all. Because working here is more than hard, it’s more than difficult and often rough.
It’s mornings with your forehead resting on your door wondering if you have it in you and moments alone in dark corners silently wiping away tears.
Most people don’t see your brain, your skills all too quickly forgotten, discarded on the same bit of paper the rest of your history lived when you approached for the role.
You reckon he sees you.
Not because you hoped for it—or because of some teenage fantasy. But, because of the way he looked that night at his desk. Not surprised, but confused as to why you were mainly pushing paper, why you weren’t based where he was, doing what he does. All questions you’ve asked yourself late at night, when your mind doesn’t stop ticking, stop whirring.
You suspect he ticks too. Another thing in common.
While he may have begun his dalliances to gain words, secrets, and stories, you have come to recognise it’s more than that. You know he knows all the names of them—likely lingers in their room. Offering them more than a good time and some money, but something he seeks from them too—companionship, a moment where he’s not DEA and rather something akin to a lover.
From the way he holds himself, Javi doesn’t think he shares that information. But it rolls from him in constant waves when he lights another smoke and drowns his throat in whatever is in his mug. He likes to think he’s effortless and austere, all too weighed down, while being complex, brilliant and wonderful.
It’s why you had wanted to fuck him. Why you had fucked him.
Because, objectively, he is beautiful. All soft in places and firm in others; he has scorching eyes and can offer searing touches. But, under all of that is what made heat blossom up your spine and commanded your thighs to press together for relief.
The way he thinks. The way he shifts his jaw from side to side and traces his finger down the length of his nose. It’s the way he holds himself when he doesn’t have to hold himself at all that makes you want him.
As it makes you feel less alone.
Less like an oddity in how you need to carve your nails into something. Your palm, other people’s flesh; wood, your sheets. All of it just so you become grounded, so there was pain, so there were feelings, so you didn’t float off or drown in a sea of mistakes, regrets and guilt.
It was a combination of both that floating and drowning as to why it happened that first time.
It had been a simultaneous tangling of limbs, a battle, a war both of you attempted to claim—a fight with your mouths, thighs, hands, tongues and bodies. Only stopped when you were both slick with sweat, the tops of your thighs coated with him and your breaths laboured. Your ear to his chest, hearing it—the way he beats, the way he lives. How blood rushes through him, all alive, real, not a fabrication.
Now, though, it’s different.
The grief is lessoned, yet you still find yourself pretending it's as rife as that first night.
A compromise, an opportunity to pretend that’s the reason the two of you do this. When in truth, the reason you don’t judge him, is because you too use sex to feel something. Needed it to claim something, prove something to yourself—that you’re desirable, attractive and fucking wanted. That you’re more than a sharp tongue and a brilliant mind, more than compliments through your way that never land—
That you’re worthy of being fucked to the point you cannot walk straight.
And, he does that so well, twists you, bends you—makes your ears ring with how attractive you are, how good you are, how perfect. A sin that rages a storm in his dreams and a thought he can’t silence.
So you avoid him. Fearful that you no longer wish to feel worthy of being fucked, but be worthy of being fucked by him.
And then he finds you instead.
Palm shoving open the file room door, all loud, like an announcement, before he lets it click into place. Allowing the air to tighten, to squeeze—all so thickening—before he’s charging, so much so the breath is knocked from your lungs with far too much ease when he flattens your back to the wall. The dust blowing from the shelves next to you from the sudden movement, the room quaking, shaking and fucking trembling as his brown eyes flick from one eye to the next.
As though he’s seeking something out.
Some truth, perhaps? A reason, a rhyme.
He splays his fingers across your hip, a hiss trying to escape from your pursed lips as your body threatens to betray you—wishing to curl into him, feel him flush, all warm and easy to escape to. Then, the other finds a home on the wall beside your head, no place to move to, to go—not that you fucking want to.
“I don’t fuck in file rooms, Peña.”
He doesn’t miss a beat. All well-versed, practically a library of quick retorts. “Where do you fuck then? Just your room?”
Surrounded by him, in all the ways that could torture. Nose smothered in the scent that is unabashedly him; eyes unable to look anywhere but him. Slowly, bothersomely, he begins to easily unpick the carefully placed resolve, practically cracking through like it was made of paper and not woven each night as you attempt to stop thinking about him.
Sometimes, it’s easier to think about him.
To snake your hand inside your underwear and ride your fingers with how much you loathe how good he feels. His name is both a curse and a fucking blessing on the tip of your tongue when you come—heat licking up your spine, washing you in something you suspect should be a shame.
But it never is.
Because it’s an exchange, a two-way thing. He doesn’t tell you he likes your hair and you don’t tell him you fuck him so you don’t think.
Instead, you leave that, fold it up, and make it as small as it can be, before you undress for him. Then you fixate on his eyes, on the darkness, the way his pupils swallow the colour you know all the flecks off. You stare, because you hope to see yourself in them—an outline, a shadow, evidence of living, remaining, not chipped away until you’re just stiff work attire and coffee. Something, anything—
Especially when you’re bare. When he stares at you like you’ve been carved for him, by him. When he makes you feel weightless and also like you are never allowed to be anywhere but right here.
It’s an illusion though. A trick of your mind—a delusion where want, need and hope all blend into a concoction that is sold in pink bottles and smells like fruit.
Lifting your chin, you want to chill your eyes and harden your expression. Neither happens.
You’re thrown from your axis, deep brown managing to shroud you, make your mind empty, clear.
“We don’t have to fuck,” he continues, letting it slide from his tongue—slither out, practically hissing. “There’s plenty of ways I can make you moan.”
“I’m sure there is. You’ve paid for the practice, after all.”
His chuckle does nothing to stem the fire—the one out of control somewhere in the pit of your stomach. Clothes suddenly uncomfortable on your skin, your earlier standpoint waning, thinning to the point of transparency.
“Yeah, but I bet you’ve been getting off to thoughts of me—us. How fucking good we are,” he retorts.
Your face blanks, and you hope it’s unreadable.
Because you already have witnessed how skilful he is. Had the unfortunate pleasure of seeing him hold his desk phone since, how he grips his gun, marvelling at the memory of how his fingers feel inside of you, both long and thick. How they engulf yours, practically able to grasp both your wrists in his one hand if he wishes.
But, from the glint in his eye, he’s seen you. Already solved you—cracked you.
“You only had to ask, princesa. Would never leave you wanting.”
You snarl. And it’s that which forces your lips to crash against his, steal more lines from his tongue and tease his mind. Ridding him for once, shaking him empty as your hands clutch the sides of his cheeks. Thankful, more than you care to fucking admit, that his tongue slides past your lips, moves past the back of your teeth—accompanied, and wrapped with it, a groan that vibrates down to your oesophagus.
Bodies pressed together, his mouth slanting over yours as though he’s been wishing to do this for as long as you have. Dizzying, heart-stopping—that’s what kissing him feels like. That’s what indulging feels like.
“I don’t like you.”
Smirking, he runs it over your swollen lips, traces his confidence over your mouth. “Your pussy does though.”
His hand moves, snakes between the two of you—fingers proficient, unwavering from their mission—undoing your trousers, zip sliding down, cutting between the silence as your mouths part, lips ghosting, breaths twisting together in the small gap.
The space is filled with a moan when his hand slides inside your underwear, fingers brushing the delicate nerves that make his name illuminate in your head like it’s been spelt out in light—in candles.
“See? Soaked. Drenched, aren’t you, princesa?”
Your head spins, legs weaken. Body betraying you as it rocks against his movements, curling, craving—desperate and hungry. Because you knew it would be good, that he’d be good. There’s no smoke without fire, and there’d be no discussion over shitty baked cake and decent coffee about his skills if he weren’t best-in-class.
“So fuckin’ needy for me, aren’t you?”
It’s there, ebbing on your tongue, yes, yes yes.
And fuck, you didn’t have him down to be like this. To have you at his mercy, practically dumbfounded, his name and a yes the only things you know, think or say. It falls, rolling from your tongue before his lips busy yours. Kissing you as if he’s starved, as if he wishes to coat his tongue in the way you moan against him—his hand getting slicker, coated in your faux hatred and practised indifference that holds no weight now.
Because you want him. Would gladly let him spin you around and, press your face against a case file box and kick your legs apart. You’d beg for it, want him to hold your hands behind your back as he spears his cock in and out of you, not giving a single fuck that someone could come in—
“Stop thinkin’ about what I could do to you, and more what I am doing to you.”
His eyes on you, blown, full of lust and shimmering with a desire that embeds into your skin until it reaches a whole new temperature. Your tongue is heavy and thick, as your throat struggles to swallow.
If anything, it proves he can listen—just to what he wants. And apparently, that is you. Making it flicker, it suddenly impending, slamming itself onto the track with a focus on its station.
“Think y'like being naughty and letting me do this here.”
Your nerves ablaze, legs quaking as your trousers slide a little further past your knee, pooling at your ankles—his breath dancing across your neck and little hairs.
In vengeance, you nip at his lips, charming kisses that leave him chasing—breaths tangling, teeth biting your bottom lip as you tilt your head. But, he’s resilient, unwavering, hand all but burning inside your underwear, fingers rough, middle and trigger finger calloused and pressed against your swollen nerves as you dig your toes into your shoes so you don’t unravel.
So he doesn’t get to have this so easily.
He knows.
You know he does. Likely knows your brain is firing, tension building, muscles all but quaking in faux-determination. Just barely present to hear what he whispers, but you know it pushes you over.
Gently guides you over the edge as your hips still, throat hoarse as it whispers moans, falling, descending from you as you quickly lose control. He makes you feel alive, full of electricity—blood pumping in your ears as he tastes the way you moan his name. Waves hammering against you, suddenly needing to crash, and they do, they do—
“Fuck, I love making you come.”
His chest rising and falling, pebbled sweat on his brow as he retracts his hand, offers a finger to you—finding you wrap your mouth around it, basking in how he says you’re his good girl.
You suppose that’s why he ends up at your base door past midnight—a silent exchange, a non-verbal promise.
Him and you. You and him.
A brown bag in hand; corruption and a need to not sleep present in his eyes. Drinking you in, lingering his eyes up and down your frame—a sheet clutched against your chest.
You suspect he knows that under this thin fabric, its lace, all ready to be snapped, thrown into some corner, the places they sat covering replaced by the wet expanse of his mouth.
It’s why you let him in, mouth conjoining to his, hearing the door slam behind him as you ruck the leather from his shoulders, down his arms, floor.
“He estado pensando en ti toda la noche.”
A part of you knew he’d come—sensing it. Dressing for the occasion, sliding the lace into place.
Because you know him as much as he understands you.
It’s why you smile, if only to yourself, when he spreads your thighs, coats his cock in your want, and sinks deep into you, rectifying all that is wrong, groaning into your neck as you feel thankful for being full again.
He shouldn’t think you’re a vision, but he does.
Javi learned it quickly, but ignored it at a speed faster than that. Not wanting to be in awe, not wanting to allow himself the chance to think of himself worthy of it.
Except, he’s forever salivating for more of you—desperate for another chance to taste, to hear how your whimpers sound, feel the way your fingers card through his hair, gripping, twisting, pulling.
If someone asked him, he’d confess it on his knees that it’s all he’s thought about. The way your nails feel, how your skin feels. The noises—fuck, the noises you make—and the way your eyes glisten, shimmer, bloom and explode with fucking desire.
“Javier…”
I know, he soothes. The sheet ripped from between the of you, discarded, removed from play as your fingers work his buttons open—more and more skin appearing until he can feel the warmth of your body, your tits against him, nipples peaked as the back of your legs meets the bed.
He’s surprised at the ease you fold for him. Dragging him down, and then you’re under him. Obedient, waiting, needy. He knows it. You know it.
Just like it’s probably obvious that you make him want. That he’s ticking, watching you, unable to tear his eyes away, more so since the other night. Your face close, eyes on the file, cogs turning, brain firing on all cylinders—and when you’d slid your eyes over, he hadn’t been able to not drop his sight to your lips.
The same way he suspects you hadn’t been able to fight doing the same yourself.
It’s why he fucks you with an increased pace, skin slapping, moans more deranged than usual. The drenched fabric between your legs pushed to the side as he drags moan from your lips, wringing them out, stuffing them into some cabinet in his mind that he only opens when he can’t have this, you, writhing, squirming as he fills you to the brim, stuffs you.
“Gotta taste you.” His tongue slides a line down your breastbone, eyes on you, fixated, waiting. “Can I?”
He’s fucking grateful that you nod. Moving, sinking to his knees on the hard floor of your base room—cock hard, dripping, all but throbbing and practically fucking angry. Fingers teasing the fabric, his mouth latching, lace and the taste of him and your desire singeing on his tongue.
And you’re heavenly—a rolling thought which appears as he licks, hearing you react, capturing it all, pocketing it.
Waiting, and waiting, until he feels it—you carding your nails through his hair, tracing lines you likely already suspect others have walked themselves. He wonders if you’re thinking it must be nothing new, nothing out of the ordinary for him, except it was, is.
Because it’s you, they were your fingers—your nails. The ones that type up his reports these days because he can’t type for shit, now typing a story into his scalp, leaving a tale for him to decipher when he tried to sleep later.
He doesn’t look up, too fearful of the sight that he’ll find and never be able to rid of. He keeps his head buried between your thighs, focused, panties still hooked on one thigh, hanging there, pointless and occasionally catching on his palm as he grasps and squeezes your leg. All focused, moving his tongue, working it on you, in you, as though attempting to sort out a kink in the chain—attempting to unravel you in the same way he has done others.
Except, Javi learns, you’re not like them. You’re not something linear, you’re not easy to understand, and there’s no transaction at the end. You’re more than a concept, more than a thing he can undo and figure out just with his tongue, but fuck, he’s sure you would let him try—or at least, he hoped you would.
Right now, he’s enamoured with a task that he finds more rewarding than asking: making you come.
Tongue sinking in, tasting you, coating all of his mouth that he can with you as your hips buck into his face. Nails all perfectly manicured and in a lighter shade than when it was wrapped around his cock last week, drag through his hair. The air punctured with his name—all Javi and Javier’s, not Peña’s and Putas.
He wonders as he spells it on your bundle of nerves, whether you feel it too. This thing—this pulsating, breathing, existing thing that is there all on its own.
A click of his jaw when you laugh at someone else; a flex of his fingers when he finds you in the heart of danger.
Javi reflects—thinks.
But then it goes, fades from mind like dust when you tug on him to move closer, so close your thighs are trembling—likely dangling on the edge of release.
“Need your cock, Javi.”
He doesn’t think about feelings, emotions or the flame he carries for you again—not until you’ve left, leaving him alone, sated, the memory and scent of you being all he has.
The base of his palm presses against his forehead, kneading, cigarette billowing in his other hand because it’s all a fucking mess. From the fact that the fantasy has turned into a reality; the dream has coloured itself until it has become true.
He knew this was real, not concocted by some blackened part of his imagination looking for an escape because you say his name more sweetly than you do in his reverie.
It’s a secret—not known, a thing kept unseen. His walls and sheets know, but not a living soul. And he suddenly wants to change that. Says so much as he moans that you’re mine.
Eyes widening as they stare down at him, hands poised on his chest, hips steadying as you remain seated—filled with him, tits slowly not bouncing.
So he repeats it, “You’re mine.”
No question, no ask.
Watching you swallow, painted in yellow-light which makes the sweat shimmer like glitter.
Rolling your hips, you hold his gaze, consider it, likely question your own goddamn sanity. But then you say it:
“Yours, Peña. I’m yours.”
And he knows he liked it. More than he’ll ever admit. Coming so hard and so quick inside of you once your mouth has twisted into an O and your nails have branded lines into his chest. Hearing it, over and over as he spills into you, relishes in it.
It’s only after, when Javi runs his knuckles along the underside of his jaw, thoughts populating, appearing and popping like balloons, he realises he doesn’t just like it.
It’s more than that.
And that’s why, more than he likely should, he wished he’d asked you to stay. To remain beside him. Let him hold you and make your morning a little better.
Javi could ask. Could half-dress and hammer his fist on your door.
But he doesn’t.
There’s always next time, though.
an: grins wickedly, thought i'd try something new.
#javier peña x reader#javier pena x reader#javi peña x reader#javier peña x reader smut#javi peña x you#javier peña x you#narcos x reader#javier pena x you#javier peña smut#javi pena x reader#narcos javier x reader#narcos javier#pedro pascal x reader#narcos fanfiction#pedrostories#javier peña fanfiction#pedro pascal characters fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fanfic
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Married Javier Peña Masterlist
Series of drabbles and one-shots where I imagine local slut Javi P being married.
(Pls help I accidentally started naming chapters with only words that begin with S and now I’m struggling to stick to the theme)
Fuckbuddy Javi
Setting Boundaries
Summary: Javi realizes he can't have his cake and eat it too
Words: 0.8k
Comparison
Summary: Other guys don't compare to Javi
Words: 0.5k
Jealous Javi
Summary: It was just sex between them. So why the hell was he feeling jealous? (Jealous Javi headcannon)
Words: 1.6k
The Gun in The Back of His Jeans | Part 1
Summary: He was handsome, sweet, had kind eyes. He frequented the same restaurant she did and bought her a snack on the regular. Sweet, right? But he had a gun tucked in the back of his jeans and that could only mean danger. But soon, it begins meaning a lot more than that to her.
Words: 4.3k
The Gun in The Back of His Jeans | Part 2
Solace 💜
Engaged Javi
Sundress
Summary: Javi's fiancé is in a pretty sundress, charming everyone in his hometown of Laredo, Texas. How could he not be driven mad?
Words: 2.2k
Second Thoughts
Summary: Weeks before their wedding, one of them might have second thoughts.
Words: 4.2k
Married Javi
Chucho’s Boy
Summary: Chucho Peña’s boy finds love and nobody could be happier about it but him.
Words: 2.1k
Sickness and Health
Summary: Who knew big bad DEA Agent Javier Peña turned into a little baby when he was sick...
Words: 2k
Say No to Me
Summary: It hadn’t been a good day at work for Javier Peña— what was new? She knew she could make him bury his frustrations in her, but it was taking a much more convincing than he usually needed. It didn’t matter. She liked a challenge.
Words: 5.7k
Salvation
Summary: Shaken to his core by witnessing Colonel Carillo shoot a kid, Javier comes home guilty and questioning the role he plays in the war against drugs.
Words: 5.8k words
Switch it Up
Summary: Javier Peña and his wife switch roles for his birthday
Words: 3.8k
Separation
Summary: The last time Javier Peña saw his wife was almost three weeks ago in Steve Murphy’s apartment. He’d finally done it. He’d fucked up the only good thing in his life, driven her away with his neglect.
Words: 8.4k
Severance
Summary: It was never meant to last. Whether they knew it or not, this was the beginning of the end.
Words: 1k
Shit Habit
Summary: Javier is trying to cut out his bad habits, but he needs to cut himself some slack.
Words: 1k
Sunglasses
Summary: Of all the things Javi has seen through his sunglasses, the sunglasses’ favorite sight is his relationship with his wife.
Words: 1.6k
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Reader’s camera roll as imagined by @alsoantisocialhomosapien
#javier peña#javier peña x reader#javier peña fluff#javier peña fanfiction#javier peña smut#javier peña angst#javier peña x y/n#javier peña fic#javier peña x ofc#javier peña x you#javier pena narcos#narcos javier#narcos smut#narcos fic#married javier peña#domestic javier peña#pedro pascal character fanfic#pedro pascal#narcos fanfiction
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joel/athena/javier - lovers to enemies to lovers poly au.
-
(joel is 48 in this, athena is around 26 and javier 37 soooo.....age difference there in the relationship)
this little au idea was meant to be one I had thought of for joel and athena originally but adding javier into the mix felt really fun to me! basically, this would be set within the TLOU universe where the poly trio is present. in the beginning of the outbreak, athena was with both joel and javier at the time and the three of them would carry on and just survive together, sticking with one another for a loooooong while.
however, that would all change after a fallout between athena and the guys and soon she and them had parted ways, athena finding herself forming a little group with rowan, rosaline and kiran (yes they're in this as well). meanwhile, joel and javier would carry on without her though they hadn't moved on from her, their love for her was still there however, they did feel a sense of disappointment when she left, she was theirs and theirs alone yet, she just left. soon, they'd find themselves in jackson where joel's brother, tommy, and his wife, maria, were located. both joel and javier would fit in just fine within the community of jackson, even gaining themselves a friend in dev burman and settling in there for some time, a couple years at least......until she came back.
it would be just five years later that athena and her little group would find themselves in jackson as well where it just happened to be joel and javier were as well. everyone would be very welcoming with her and the rest of the group, no hard feeling between them and the rest of jackson. when joel and javier find out the woman they love most has returned, they don't hesitate to be sure it was actually her and it was! because of that, she'd soon become their biggest headache because they looked at her as enemy now but, she was still their woman and that was a tricky barrier to have.
with athena, she was at a loss for her words the first time she heard joel and javier were also located in jackson as well. she had told rosaline, kiran and rowan a bit about them but never would've guessed she'd cross paths with them AGAIN. they were enemies of hers now, though, she could see that in their eyes but, she could also see just how possessive they'd become with her over time. how they were with her in private when no one else was around to see them.
however, when they were possessive, they were gentle about it. they didn't hold any dark actions against her, no, why would they? they still had loved her all those years later, had still cared. still, to the community of jackson, she was still their "greatest headache", an annoyance that everyone else didn't mind having around but, in private? she was still their lover, their partner. she was and has always been theirs.
(again, this just a silly little idea I had and I thought I'd share with the rest of y'all because why not! also, i apologize if you find any errors in this because this was quick and so it might be a bit messy lol)
tlou-verse: a masterlist.
#rhiannon rambless#oc: athena kallis#oc: rowan bauer#oc: rosaline mcdevilin#oc: kiran hari#oc: dev burman#pairing: joel/athena/javier#hbo tlou#hbo the last of us#the last of us#tlou#joel miller#tlou joel miller#joel miller tlou#joel miller x oc#narcos#narcos netflix#netflix narcos#narcos javier#javier peña#javier pena x oc#javier pena x ofc#oc moodboard#moodboard oc#moodboard#original character#original female character#original male character#oc#ofc
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he is so getaway car and don’t blame me coded
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal narcos#javier pena one shot#javier pena#javier peña#javier peña fanfiction#narcos#javier peña x reader#javier pena narcos#javier peña narcos#javier pena x reader#narcos javier#javier peña imagine#javier pena fluff#javier pena x you#javier pena x y/n#javier pena fic#javier pena fanfiction#javier peña fluff#javier peña x y/n#javier peña x you#javier peña fic#javier pena imagine#pedro pascal pictures#pedro pascal gif#steve murphy#javierpeña#taylor swift#reputation#getaway car
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The Casualty of Love
CHAPTER 3
Summary: He's back home. You have almost forgotten how warm his eyes were and how big your crush for him was.
Warnings: Age gap (Javi is 40 and reader is 27), mentions of grief, mention of self pleasure (f receiving), alcohol consumption, angst, both reader and Javi are horny and their thoughts show it, mention of tattoo. (Let me know if I'm missing one)
Rating: +18 (not explicit)
Word Count: 2.7k
Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Masterlist
A/N:Here's the third chapter!! Finally!! I'm really sorry about the delay guys, truly. The reader is hispanic but I don't specify what kind of hispanic. I've tried to make all the Spanish sentences as neutral as I can, but they won't probably be completely be neutral, I'm from Spain, so it could show sometimes, sorry in advance. Well, feel free to tell what you thought about this chapter! (Always being kind please) I'm kind of nervous about writing smut in the future chapters (I've never done it). I specifically included the whole dancing part because I personally feel it's a big part of hispanic culture and it's not enough mention in fics where reader is indeed hispanic.
P.D: headcanons, asks and thoughts about this fic are welcome on my ask anything section ;-) <3
Dividers by @saradika
“Pops, we are already too late!! Come on!!” Javier yells from the entrance of the house where he can't help but to look in the mirror on the wall and rearrange his shirt, doing and undoing a few buttons, debating what would you think of every option. He finally shakes his head and reminds himself that he can't think of you like that, not only you´re 13 years his junior but he also isn't good for you.
“Ya voy, mijo! (I'm coming, son!)” Chucho shouts walking down the stairs.
When Chucho arrives at the entrance of the house and sees Javi checking himself on the mirror, making sure the collar of his shirt is okay. Chucho can't help but to raise an eyebrow in disbelief.
“We're feeling cute today, mijo?” he says, holding back a chuckle.
Javier gets startled by his father´s voice, “umm, no pops, just…didn't want María to scold me about a crooked collar like she did when i was a teen” he lies quickly before his dad has more questions.
“Sure, mijo, si usted lo dice (if you say so)” Chucho comments while taking his hat and his keys and walking out to the truck.
When they arrive to Doña Lucia´s house and they come into the backyard by the door fence on the side of the house, the first thing he sees is you, your hair down over your shoulders, your body frame by a summer dress, light blue with little daisies and thin straps, and your feet completely bare, just like when you were a kid. You hated wearing shoes as a kid, your mom and his were always behind you trying to tell you that you could hurt your feet by not wearing any but that never stopped you from going around the ranch “trying” to help Chucho with no shoes.
You´re dancing with an old lady that, if he remembers well, is Doña Esperanza; your cheeks are flushed and your mouth is curved into the most gorgeous smile he's ever seen. He can't help but freeze on the spot, making his dad crash with his backside.
“What the-? Javier!” says Chucho, balancing a bottle of whisky he had brought.
“Um?” Javier gets back to earth and turns around “Oh, sorry pops, here let me do that for you” he takes the bottle from Chucho´s hand and walks to the table where all the drinks are.
While putting the bottle down into the table, he can feel a hand on his shoulder. All of him inside shouts to the earth to swallow him, it must be another town person just wanting to talk about how proud they are that someone they know has done such amazing thing with the government and to ask how did it feel to take Escobar down; to his surprise when he turns around he finds you instead, with that smile, that could heal any illness he'll ever have, still adorning your face.
“Hey, you came!” you say with your hand still resting on his shoulder.
At first he can't find his word for a few seconds, but then he answers you “Um, yeah, wouldn't miss the free drinks and food for anything”
“Ey! Dancing is also one of the best parts of these things!” you say removing your hand from his shoulder to put up your hair into a messy ponytail; his eyes watching the action and it making him gulp.
“I haven´t been to one of this in a long fucking time” he chuckles, putting his hands into the back pockets of his tight jeans.
“Lastima (too bad), it's what i enjoy the most of this get togethers” wait, where you suggesting that you wanted to dance with him? “By the way, don't tell Doña Lucia that i told you but she keeps the really cold drink inside, if i get it she won't suspect a thing” you say suggesting that you could get him one.
“Sure, i would love a cold one with this stupid heat” he says, feeling the sweat going down his back, not sure if it was really from the heat or your mere presence.
“Well, then i'll be back in two minutes” your smile widens a little bit more before turning around and starting to walk towards the backdoor of the house.
His eyes can't help but to wander towards how your hips move when you walk away and how the dress you´re wearing hugs you ass…just before you start opening the door to go inside something, that makes his body freeze all over again, catches his attention. A tattoo on your right shoulder plate that says as clear as day, “Mi Alma” with a little heart beside it.
A chill goes through his body, you´ve tattooed his mom's name on you…
You dry the sweat at your temple as you walk inside the house; it was empty, the AC welcoming you and cooling you a little from the Texan heat from outside and to be honest from Javi´s presence as well. In the kitchen you lean your lower back into the counter and take a deep breath.
“We made a fucking deal, I'm not 15 anymore, i can't react to him” you say softly, arguing with your own mind, if anyone would to walk in now, they would think that you´re insane.
Since you saw Javier again on that parking lot, it was like he was the very air you were breathing; he had consumed every thought you had when your hand wandered inside your underwear at night; you would catch yourself counting the minutes that were left to see him again, even when they felt like way too many, you would think of excuses to show up at Chucho´s ranch before they day that you usually do. At some point in this over a week expanse of time, you had stopped yourself mid thought of him and told to yourself that it needed to stop; you weren't 15 anymore, you were a grown woman now, you couldn't spend your days just drooling and daydreaming about a man 13 years your senior, who you were pretty sure would never look at you as more as the closest thing he ever got to a younger annoying sister.
You smooth the skirt of your summer dress down and pull yourself up from the kitchen counter, you open the fridge and feel a few of the beer bottles to see which one feels colder, when you find it, you take it out of the fridge, uncap it and prepare yourself to walk outside and be in his presence again.
As soon as the sun hits your skin again, your eyes find him immediately, but now he isn't alone like you had left him, your mom is right there beside him, talking his ear out.You make your way towards them and without interrupting your mother, you reach your hand out to offer him the cold beer; when his fingers graze yours, it makes goosebumps crawl through your upper arms and you internally scold your body for betraying you. Once your mom finishes the sentence she was saying, her gaze turns to you.
“Oh mija, le prometí un baile contigo al nieto de Doña Lucia (I promised a dance with you to Doña Lucia´s grandson)” she says, giving you that smile that you know way too well.
You groan and throw your head back “Again ma? I told you on the last barbecue, deje de intentar juntarme con hombres…(stop trying to matchmake me with men) ” you say glaring at her.
She ignores your statement “He has a little dental clinic in town, es un hombre bueno para usted (is a good man for you), he could be a good husband” she says smirking and hitting your arm with the back of her hand.
“Ma…” you warn her; by your side you see Javier hiding a chuckle by taking a sip of the beer you brought him.
“No me haga quedar mal en mis promesas (don't make me look bad on my promises)” she says sternly, putting her hand on her hips.
You groan again and give a little nod; you put up your index finger and say “Just one dance, that's it” her facial expression changes immediately into a smile and nods enthusiastically.
“Es el muchacho de allí (It's the boy over there)” she says, pointing to a man with glasses and slightly curly hair, probably a few years older than you, that's sitting in one of the wooden tables.
You turn slightly towards Javier and tell him “wish me luck” you roll your eyes and walk quickly towards the man before your mom says anything about your comment.
Javier had watched your whole interaction with your mom in silence, feeling the need to jump into it several times to defend you and to prevent any interaction of you with any man. He now watches you dance a salsa with the unnamed man, his fist tightening around the beer bottle unintentionally.
“They would make a good couple, right?” Maria asks beside him, also watching you dance with the guy.
“Umm…don´t know, she didn't really sound interested Mia” he says back trying not to greet his teeth together.
“She could be, he's a good man, lo que ella necesita (what she needs)” she says not taking her eyes off of you and your dancing partner. The sentence makes his chest hurt, a good man…not what she would think of him if she knew even just some of the things he had done in Colombia.
“Mia…could I ask you something about her?” he says feeling like a little kid asking for a piece of chocolate.
“Claro (sure), Javiercito “ she says finally taking her gaze away from you to direct it towards him.
“I saw the tattoo…” he says, knowing he didn't need to say more.
“Si…” she says breathily looking back at you for a second “she got it done when she turned 18, when she was away in college, she came back that christmas with it done already, when i saw the ink at first, casi le grito (i almost scream at her); but then i saw what it said and all i could do was going into the bathroom and cry…” she tells him, at some point through it she unconsciously starts to caress his arm up and down, he's not sure if she's doing it to comfort him or herself.
He can only nod as an acknowledgement that he has heard her, feeling like if he opens his mouth, the only thing coming out of it would be a sob.
He's pulled out off the moment by your laughter, his gaze quickly wandering towards you. The guy you were dancing with accidentally stepped on you and he is apologizing again and again while you laugh it off and shake your head no, to let him know that it's okay.´Javi feels that if his hand gets tighter around the beer bottle, it will break, but before he could even think of doing anything about it, Maria talks again.
“Doña Lucia is calling for me, i'll see you later mijo” she gives his arm a final squeeze then takes off towards the host of the barbecue.
A minute later you're making your way back to where he is, the salsa song has finished and you were serious about only giving the guy one dance. He can see the sweat drop going from the base of your neck disappearing into the valley between your clothed breasts; he gulps the sip of beer he is taking. A few strands of your hair had fallen out of your messy ponytail, your cheeks a little more flushed from the heat than before.
“I think i'm needing one of those” you say pointing with your head to the beer in his hand.
“Well, Doña Lucia is distracted with your mom, and I need another one too, so let's go inside and get us both one, eh?” he says smirking, you just nod, look briefly towards where your mom and Doña Lucia are talking and then start walking again towards the back door of the house with Javier behind you.
The AC welcomes you again when you step inside and you even sigh from the relief it brings to your heated body. You can feel his presence right behind you, you´re sure that if he reached one arm out just a little bit, he would get in contact with your lower back. Once you both get a beer on your hands, you climb on top of the kitchen counter, crossing your ankles together, and he leans into it beside you. For a few minutes you both just stay silent sipping your respective beers, and you can't ignore how the side of his arm grazes your thigh when he takes a sip. Javier is the one to break the silence surprisingly.
“Pops has told me that you visit the ranch often…” he says, looking at the bottle in his hand and picking at the label in it.
“Mmhmm” you say while nodding even if you know that he is not looking at you.
He then turns towards you, now leaning the side of his hip into the counter “Thanks for that, I'm sure it has made him feel less lonely when I was away…” he says to you, looking into your eyes, shaking your entire nervous system.
You shrug your shoulders “It's not a big deal, his family and I actually enjoy his company” you chuckle softly.
“Right…But anyway, thank you” he says before his body acts by itself and his free hand lifts and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. You freeze and your eyes widen a little bit, not expecting the sudden physical contact. He doesn't take his hand away, but rather rests it on your cheek. You both stare into each other eyes, your heart is going way too fast for it to be even healthy and when your eyes wander towards his lips, you both hear the back door of the house being open; he almost jumps away from you quickly, he is very thankful that Doña Lucia doesn't oil the hinges of the door very often.
Chucho walks into the kitchen a minute later, his eyebrows lifting since he didn't expect the both of you there.
“Muchachos, what are you doing here? The party is outside, you´re young, you should enjoy” he says walking past the both of you towards the fridge.
“Nos resguardamos del calor por un rato, viejito (we´re sheltering ourselves from the heat for a bit, old man)” you answer when you see that Javi can't handle it right now.
“It's just a little bit of heat” he says with friendly mock in his tone “ustedes jóvenes no pueden manejar nada (you youngsters can't handle anything)” he smirks and you see how much it looks like Javi´s smirk; you stick out your tongue to him and he laughs and combs his mustache with his fingers.
“Mijita, we might be needing you by the ranch soon, the peach and nectarine trees are getting too full” he tells while uncapping his own beer.
Javier keeps being quiet and it makes you worry inside of what is going inside his mind “Sure viejito, whenever you tell me” you say, giving him a soft smile.
“Gracias mija (thanks, my daughter)” he squeezes your shoulder when he walks past you “Come out when you want kids” he says while walking out of the kitchen. You wait until you hear the hinges of the back door again, indicating his full leave, to turn towards Javier, you open your mouth to address what happened before Chucho came in but before you get even a breath out, he walks out of the kitchen without a word or a glance towards you, and leaves you there, anxiety already creeping up your body.
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#javier peña fanfiction#javier peña fic#javier peña x reader#javier peña narcos#javier peña#javier pena fic#narcos javier pena#javier pena fanfiction#javier pena narcos#javier pena x reader#javier pena x you#chucho peña narcos#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal stories#narcos#narcos javier#narcos fic#narcos fanfiction#the casualty of love
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[SUMMARY: Your older brother works for Pablo, Javier gets close to you to get information. He unexpectedly falls for you and gets you pregnant without telling you who he truly is, only becoming more protective of you.]
“You’re pregnant. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
Angst, violence
Being the younger sister of a man who worked closely with Pablo bought a life of secrecy. You were watched like a hawk on everything you did and your brother Jose wasn’t nice about it. Until the day came that you met a man, what was suppose to be one encounter, turned into feelings that grew deeply on both sides. Javier and you secretly saw each other in the night at a motel as much as you were able to. You told him you didn’t want your brother seeing you around with a man yet you didn’t explain the true reason as to why….although you didn’t have to. Something you didn’t know was that Javi was a DEA agent. He knew more about you than you were aware of, and what was meant to be a source to get an inside look at Pablo’s world was now a trap for Javi, as he had unexpectedly fallen for you.
Things slowly became more complicated when you realized you were falling for this man. There was no way you two could truly be together, your brother didnt trust anyone being apart of what he was apart of he and treated you like a child. You knew this could only get Javi killed. Things only took a turn for the worse when you realized your period was late. Your heart sunk at the thought of a pregnancy,how were you suppose to go to through with this? How were you suppose to tell Javi?
Maybe it was best you didnt.
The next day you met with Javier with the mindset of that being the last time you would see him, pregnant with his child or not.
Opening the door to your motel room, Javi rushed in pulling you against him as he kissed your neck.
“I missed you baby”
“Javi..” you whispered as he pushed you against the wall. His hands moving up your waist as his lips covered yours, it was hard to deny his kisses but you had to.
“Javi-“ you turned your face away feeling his lips softly against your cheek.
“What’s wrong?” He asked in a low voice. You struggled to fight back tears as you pressed your lips together before turning back to him.
“Javi….I…I don’t think we should see each other anymore…” his expression quickly changing, your words feeling like a physical hit to his chest.
“What are you talking about?”
“We can’t be together…you know that..” you looked up at him as he raised a brow. He wondered if something had happened with your brother to make you now say this.
Something he wasn’t suppose to know.
“Where’s this coming from?” He asked in a serious tone, you looked away.
“It’s just the truth, it always has been..I told you how my brother is and this has gone on long enough-“ you moved away from him grabbing your purse.
“Where are you going?” He continued, following behind as you moved quickly.
“I have to go, I have to be somewhere-“
“Where? What the hells going on?” You could hear the frustration in his voice but you couldn’t allow it to let you give in. From what you knew Javi had no idea who your brother was and you wanted to keep it that way. It was impossible to have a relationship let alone a child with anyone with the life you lived.
“Maybe someday I can explain...” Without giving him a chance you quickly left with tears falling from your eyes as you rushed downstairs. Javi cursed at himself before rushing out into his car catching you getting into a cab. Slowly and discreetly he followed you before realizing you pulled up to a doctors office. Parking a block away he waited for you as you walked inside and leaned back in his chair.
About an hour later he caught you walking out making him sit up in his seat. He noticed you looked more uspet than you originally were and furrowed his eyebrows slowly following as you walked.
The doctor had just confirmed you were pregnant.
More than the hurt you felt about feeling like you could never tell Javi, you were afraid.
Your brother was not a nice man and if he found out you were pregnant you were sure he would find out who it was and kill them.
“What the hells going on baby?” Javier whispered to himself as he watched you quickly walk off and turn the corner.
Javier drove back to the station as Murphy looked up at him with raised brows.
“Anything new from your source?” He smirked as Javier remained serious and sat down across from him.
“Something wrong?” Murphy leaned forward noticing Javier was actually upset.
“What’s new on Jose?” Javier asked changing the subject.
“That’s something I thought you would know? Or are you too busy fucking his sister?” Murphy laughed before realizing Javier wasn’t finding anything funny. Not saying a word he left to the back room to listen over the conversations that were had in your home with the phones that were tapped.
The sound of your voice instantly playing on those tapes, he could hear the fear in you as you spoke to your friend Jenny.
“I don’t know what to do, Jenny. I can’t tell him-“
“You have to tell him.” Your friend could be heard on the other end as Javier listened closely.
“My brother…my brother will kill him, you don’t know how dangerous Jose can be.” You explained in a shaky voice.
“He’s never to know that I’am pregnant, promise me-“ you begged not knowing Javier heard you loud and clear. In shock he sat up staring blankly at the cassette player. Repeatedly rewinding the clip of you saying you were pregnant, releasing smoke from his mouth as his cigarette dangled between his fingers. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“Jesus Christ..” he whispered realizing the danger he had put you in. If your brother found out you were having any kind of a relationship with a DEA agent….you would be dead. Javier wanted to get you the hell out of there. Continuing the recording he listened carefully to what else was said.
“I’ll be at the bar tonight working, I should be home around 3.” You continued with a sigh.
“You should be careful in that place, you know how those men can be there.” Your friend responded.
“Yeah well I have to work. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Fucking shit.” Javier slammed the tape off and quickly paced out the room.
That night Javier showed up at your job, he watched you from afar as you served a group of people in front of you. He watched as a man approached you trying to create conversation with you barely looking up at him. Your mind seemed elsewhere.
“Hey lady, I’m talking to you!” The man yelled making you look up as he shook his glass in your face before a smile slowly spread on his lips.
“There she is” the man grinned as Javier took a step closer, the man seemed familiar to him.
“Let us get 5 tequila shots, you bring it to our table over there and we’ll give you something nice.” The man winked at you as Javier looked back at the table he was pointing at, he knew those men. These men were rivals against Pablo’s cartel and they must’ve known your brother worked for him.
You were a target.
“I’ll be right with you,” you assured the man with a smile realizing you needed to go to the back for more ice from the fridge. The man sat down with his men as you made your way to the back, Javier quickly moved through the crowd rushing to get to you before you could come back out. Just as you were about to come out Javi grabbed you by your arm making you gasp.
“Javi!” You looked at him confused as he looked around pulling you out the back door.
“Where are we going?! What are you doing?!”
He wouldn’t respond, simply pulling you to his car.
“What the hell are you doing?!” You pulled your arm back.
“Get in the car. Now.” He spoke low yet sternly.
“No,I’m in the middle of my damn shift.” You went to walk around him but he stopped you. All he could think of that moment was that you were pregnant. Pregnant and afraid, too afraid to even tell him and all he wanted to do was protect you.
“Get out of my way, Javi.” You looked up at him as he refused to stand out of your way.
“Im not letting you go back in there, baby.”
“And who the hell are you to say?!” Once again trying to walk around him he stopped you with his words.
“They’re here for your brother.” He finally blurt out making you stop in your tracks.
“What do you mean?” You looked at him confused, what did he know of your brother?
He didn’t say a word and he didn’t have to. The look on his face said enough for you, as many questions as you may have had, you knew you had to move fast. Quickly you followed him out to his car and sat beside him as he drove off.
Looking around the motel parking lot Javier walked you to the room. You rushed inside pacing around the room as he closed the blinds and locked the door.
“How did you know those men were there for my brother?” You asked crossing your arm. Standing across from you with his hands on his hips he looked away.
“There’s a lot of things you don’t know, sweetheart.”
“Then tell me! What the hell do you know of my brother?!” You yelled at him walking up to his face.
“I know your brother doesn’t protect you the way he should.” He looked you straight in your eyes. His words making you take one step back, you raised a brow.
“What are you saying?” He looked down at you pressing his lips together, his silence only frustrating you more.
“Dammit Javi-“ you suddenly took a step back placing your hand over your mouth. The sudden feel of nausea creeping through your stomach like you had never felt before, Javier took a step forward raising a brow.
“What’s wrong?”
You quickly turned away only to be hit with a wave of dizziness, you leaned on the table beside you trying to balance yourself until you felt Javier’s hand around your waist. Taking a deep breath you stood still taking a sip of water he gave you from a bottle. Not looking up at him you didnt realize the concern he had in his eyes. The danger you were in, him knowing you were pregnant and not knowing what the hell that meant for either of you.
“How far long are you?” He finally blurt out low, his question making your eyes practically bulge.
He knew.
“What?” You looked up at him confused.
“When were you gonna tell me? Or were you planning on never telling me?” You didn’t understand how he could have possibly known, who could’ve told him.
“Javi…I-“ just as you were to explain a loud bang was heard at the front door making you jump.
You were followed.
You gasped as Javier quickly pulled you to the back toward the bathroom as you looked behind and noticed the door knob begin to move.
“This way!” Javier opened the bathroom window carried you up and quickly followed behind. You could hear men on the other side as Javi pulled you up by your arm practically dragging you to his car.
They hadn’t noticed a thing yet.
“Where do we go?” You asked in a panic as Javier quickly got in and began to drive off just as gun shots went off. The side view mirror getting shot at, you screamed covering your ears ducking down as he stepped on the gas harder and sped off.
“You ok?!” He yelled loudly not taking his eyes off the road, unexpectedly reaching his hand to your stomach. A conversation that was yet to be finished.
“Yes, I’m fine..” you realized where he placed his hand and looked over at him. Things calmed down as he adjusted himself in his seat and pulled away, grabbing the steering wheel he continued to drive.
Once he was sure he lost them, the rest of the drive was silent. Who the hell was he, and what the hell was this all about?
“Who are you?” You finally whispered.
“It’s better you don’t know-“
“Like hell it is!” You screamed slamming the door.
“You know who my brother is, you knew those men were targeting me….you know that I’m pregnant, you obviously have been watching, oh God- you’re a cop” you looked at him shocked as he continued to drive.
“Is that what this was?” You began to laugh sarcastically.
“I was your little informant-“
“No.” He quickly responded staring straight ahead.
“That’s exactly what this was, I’m so stupid..” you shook your head.
“That’s probably why these men are after me and if my brother finds out-“
“Nobody is gonna do anything to you, I won’t allow it.” Javier snapped your way.
“Take me home.” Your tone was blunt as your mind raced.
“I’m not taking you home, you don’t know where those men can follow you to. Not to mention-“ he looked your way with a hesitant look.
“You’re pregnant. I’m not letting you out of my sight.” As much as he wanted to keep you safe, this wasn’t the way.
“Take me home, Javi please, I know my brother… he will suspect something. He will find out something..please.” You turned to him with worried eyes. If it was up to him he would never leave your side but he knew you wouldn’t give in. He sighed and drove you to your brothers home a few blocks away, just as you were about to get out he grabbed your arm but you snatched it away. You had nothing to say to him, he knew you would be upset with him and all he wanted was to explain himself. Without saying a word you walked out and slammed the door as he watched you walk off into the distance, he of course kept close by.
The next day Javier walked into the station with Murphy rushing towards him.
“They spotted Escobar-“
“Where?!” Javier turned back following him out taking the piece of paper that Murphy handed him, stopping in his tracks he realized it was your home address. His stomach turned at the thought of you in the dead center of danger. What the hell was he doing there?
“This has to be a set up.” Javier whispered running beside Murphy.
“Well, only one way to tell.”
Sitting in a truck everyone gathered around cameras watching as one was perfectly giving the cops the view of you surrounded by Escobars men in your living room.
“What the hell are they doing?” Javier asked making Murphy look over at him, he could see the concern on his partners face.
“There’s her brother-“ one of the men pointed at the camera as he entered the room and suddenly yanked you up by your arm.
“Who have you been talking to huh?” Your brother yelled angrily in your face as Javi watched, his heart racing with a million thoughts running through.
“I haven’t spoken to anyone Jose, I promise. I-“
“Don’t lie to me!” He roared angrily making Javier begin to pace back and fourth with his hands on his hips.
“We’ve gotta get her out of there,” he stopped and leaned his hand on the table watching anxiously.
“No, we can get something out of this. Escobar never showed up but maybe they’ll give us where he is-“
“Or maybe we’ll get her killed.”
“Jose please, you know me, you know I don’t talk to anyone!”
“Then what the hell is this?!” He slammed a paper down on the table before you, a photo of you coming out of the doctors office where you had found out you were pregnant.
“I-“
“You what?!” He slammed his hand on the picture making you jump.
“Shit..” Javier whispered out of breath.
“Jose please-“ before you could finish your brother unexpectedly smacked you knocking you off the chair. Javier’s clenched his jaw ready to run out of the truck before he felt Murphys hand on his arm holding him back.
“Son of a bitch..” he bit his lip angrily watching as you backed away from Jose while still on the ground. He knew the terror you must’ve felt, he didn’t give a shit who said what, he wasn’t going to risk anything happening to you.
“I’m going in.” Javier ran out making everyone turn to him.
“Pena! No!”
Javier bust through the doors with back up making everyone around you jump and move quickly. Most running out though the windows as you flinched staying down before looking up and realizing one of the cops was Javi. You froze with your lips parted as chaos erupted around you, he ran towards you and quickly lifted you up pulling your arms behind you.
“What are you doing?!” You asked through shock and tears.
“I’m getting you out of here,” he whispered discreetly against your ear before pulling you back against him and placing cuffs on your wrists.
“What the hell did you do, you little bitch!” Your brother yelled as he was placed in handcuffs before Javier pulled you away.
Standing alone in an interrogation room you, your thoughts were all over the place. This whole time you were dealing with a DEA agent.
You felt used, you felt like a fool.
A tear rolling down your cheek until you heard the door open you quickly wiped it away. In walked Javi silently closing the door behind him. You refused to look at him, he knew you were upset with him but that didn’t stop him.
Standing right before you, you looked to the side ignoring his presence until you he took a step closer and you felt his hand gently take hold of your face as he took a close look at the mark your brother left you.
“Get off of me,” you whispered abruptly pulling your face away.
“Listen to me-“
“Don’t. I don’t want to speak to you.”
“Well I’m not going anywhere.” He responded bluntly as he stood close looking down at you.
“I’m not the bad guy here-“
”You’re all liars!” You unexpectedly screamed turning his way.
“You could’ve gotten me killed! My brother or anyone else could’ve thought I was helping the police and they would’ve killed me!” You began to hit his chest until he caught your arms stopping you.
“I wasn’t going to let that happen” he shook you trying to snap you out of it.
“Oh please, Javi. You don’t know them. And you and Jose wanted to use me in your own way-“
“Your brother did anything but protect you, and I’m sorry about that baby I really am. But I’m not him, I wasn’t going to let anything happen to you and especially this baby.” His words catching you off guard and he saw it in your eyes. You caught yourself looking down at your stomach as Javier leaned in closely.
“You’re a cop, and my brother…my brother will-“
“He’s not gonna do a damn thing.” He assured you with a whisper. Still you stood in shock with the realization that you had a relationship with a DEA agent and now you were pregnant. Javi slowly placed his hand on your stomach as you looked down, for a moment you couldn’t move.
“Please let me help you..” he whispered as a tear rolled down your cheek. You shook your head feeling yourself begin to hyperventilate, it suddenly felt hard to breathe.
“Here sit down,” he pulled a chair beside you quickly sitting you down and crouched before you.
“Tomorrow I’ll take you to a doctor and make sure everything is ok, alright? I don’t want you to worry about anything.”
“That’s kind of hard, Javi.” You looked down holding back tears just as Murphy opened the door making you hear your brother yelling as he passed the hall.
“Where is that bitch after everything I’ve given her!” He yelled angrily, Javier quickly stood up and slammed the door shut.
“What are we doing?” Murphy asked.
“She’s not apart of anything-“
“Peña she’s a damn witness to a lot-“ Javier stood close in front of Murphy standing his ground.
“I’m not mixing her anymore into this shit than she already is.” He whispered low enough where you couldn’t hear. Murphy knew Javi wouldn’t give in, he silently stepped back before leaving the room.
“What happened?” You asked as Javier turned back to you.
“Nothing. They said you’re free to leave.” He took your hand walking you out quickly before anyone could say anything to you.
“I can go?” You asked a bit confused knowing you were the sister of a man that worked closely with Pablo.
“Are you sure?” You asked looking back as he discreetly pulled you out. Javier wasn’t new at breaking rules and he was willing to go through any of them and lie to you if it meant keeping you safe…
#pedro pascal#javier peña x you#javier pena angst#narcos fanfiction#narcos javier#javier pena fanfiction#javier pena imagine
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I'm not sure if this might get any interaction at all!! But pls the Javier girls send help and use your amazing powers to help me find a fanfic. I roughly remember it was about Javier being sent back to America, and he goes to live with his dad. But the reader lives with his dad because their families were close since e they were young, also the reader and Javier have like beef, because like when they were in high school or something they started to drift apart cause he got popular. But the reader still wanted to be friends with javi, also the reader has a crush on him (no duh he so 🤤🤤) so she ask to meet up with him to confess to him, but his friends were there and they made fun of the reader appearance (not sure specified but I think it was a reader being a little more on the chubbier side, cause I'm a chubby girlie 😞) and he laughs with them at her. And they kinda ignored each other, untill be comes back from Colombia. So they kinda live together, and his dad picks up on the awkwardness and like forces him to make up with her so they eventually made up and the spicy scene takes place 😍😍😍and the end! ¡!!!
Pls do help me find the fic, it's been haunting me since I read it 😔😔🫶
#javier peña x reader#javier pena x reader#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#narcos#narcos javier#narcos netflix#pedrohub#fanfic#javier pena fanfiction#pls help
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