#chris fiestl

[lokiiied]

narcos s3 may not have stavier/murphy, wagner moura, carillo, or trujillo but at least we got them:

[jolapeno]

i. fairy lights

javier peña x dea! f!reader | chapter one of nowhere to run

Summary: Determined to do it better this time, Javier Peña returns to Bogotá to take down the Cali Cartel. With a new promotion, office and team, what he doesn’t expect is the pretty thing outside his office—or why they’re not allowed in the field. “You should also know, Peña. I’m harder to sleep with than an informant.."

chapter warnings: season three narcos spoilers, smut, angst. no use of y/n, mild use of a codename for story purposes. wordcount: 5k authors notes: this would have remained in my google drive if it wasn't for the sheer love, listening ears and heart of both @yeyinde and @guyfieriii - every bit of sass is written for you.

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Your eyes studied him. Peered through the half-open blinds, trying to assess at what stage you should go in—make your introductions. You’d hung back, not wanting to fawn like the others, needing to know if the man they placed on such a high shelf really deserved to be raised amongst the rest of you. 

Because you knew what he had done. You’d heard the whispers, the gossip—even if they tried to keep a lid on it. 

“Here.” 

Your eyes are pulled to a tall shadow, finding no smile—no smirk. Face entirely void of emotion. The coffee in his hand presented to you, your fingers obediently wrapping it, narrowing your eyes at the person in front of you. 

“From your favourite place.” 

The smirk falls easily over your lips. “What did you do, Van Ness?” 

It’s then he smiles—almost smirks. The two so closely woven together that you aren’t entirely sure where joy and torture truly begin. “I may or may not have fucked your filing system—but in my defence, I’m not the only one.” 

“I’m aware.”

“You met him yet?” he asked, nodding his head towards the office you’re stationed outside. “The new Attaché.”

“No, and do you not have work to be doing, Dan?” 

He shrugs, placing his cup down before leaning both palms on your desk, moving closer and closer. You watch as his smirk begins to cut into more of his features, almost being allowed to greet his eyes.

“This is for Fiestl’s sake—and the new pair of eyes studying us. The former thinks you’re seeing someone.” 

Mirroring him, you bring the coffee to your lips, leaning forward as then noted and the taste explodes across your tongue. “Lemme guess, you’re enjoying watching Chris squirm?” 

“Do you blame me?”

“No. Not really.”

You command him to look up when you walk through his office door. Your knock barely meets his ears before you’re there, stalking into his office with your hands full of files, papers and a single notebook.

He hears you murmur about not wanting to interrupt, but Javi doesn’t believe you.

Because of the sly smirk carved into your cheeks. The way you’re standing boldly in front of his desk, not giving him any indication that you’re not standing exactly where you want to be, at the time you wanted to. 

Your name falls from your tongue like it’s supposed to be blessing the air. As though you’re doing him a favour by informing him of it—not that it mattered.

He’d already learnt your name. That, and the name you’re so often called around the office—the one no one has yet explained to him. 

Now that you’re here, not restricted by half-open blinds and glass, he can look at you fully. He can run his eyes up and down your frame, not just admire your side profile. You’re pretty is what he thinks. Likely knows it from the way you don’t cower under his gaze, but rather thrive under it. He bets you act like you’re made of glass, when you’re in fact made of steel—that you’re used to making others feel better about their inadequacies than owning the fact you’re good.

You stand straight, not extending your hand out across his desk to him—telling him, without using your words, you’re not really here to make introductions. 

It almost pulls a smile from him. Your obvious indifference is welcomed after the sea of interviews he feels he’s had with the rest of the department.  It’s clear you’re not here to fawn, to interrogate him—you don’t even appear to be impressed he was half the reason Escobar was taken down.

Your eyes are still on him—piercing, digging themselves in as you continue to speak. They pierce, both your words and your sight, back remaining as diligently straight, words tumbling and falling from your lips into sentences he’s not even processing. 

Javi suspects you know he isn’t listening.

Holding yourself in a way that tells him this is a process, more than kindness. Your impassiveness growing, fermenting in the lack of interruption from him—and he welcomes it, almost craves it. So drained from shaking hands and listening to pester him for a scrap of information—an insight they’ve not read from a newspaper. 

You, without meaning to, provide a semblance of normality as you continue to talk. 

Shifting, he moves to lean on the sideboard behind him, keeping his eyes trained on you, noting how you’re American, but your vowels are tinged with the tone of someone who has been here too long. He hangs off of them, the inflictions, the oddities in the way you speak certain words. 

He shouldn’t. 

Javi has already woken up beside a colleague—an intern. Had already failed his promise to himself he made on the plane over, that this time would be different. 

And, here he is, dragging his eyes up and down your frame—noting things about you that are irrelevant, not listening. 

“--I’ve made notes, which I’ve tabbed for you. Just in case you decided to stop listening.”

You lift your eyes from your notes, and it’s different than when you’d first stalked in. They’re softer, their piercingness lost—vanished, as if you’d never tried to dig them into him—dousing him something akin to cool water on a stifling day. 

For the single, briefest second, he’s lost to the world around him. He’s falling, tumbling into them—losing his grip on morals and right from wrong as you just watch him. Not knowing how you’re basking him in light, sunshine and fucking serenity. 

A sight he’d never expected in his office, never mind in his presence. 

He clears his throat, Crosby’s words coming to him—rotating around and around. It’ll be different this time. By the book. Javi knows he has to make amends for what happened before. Even if it means having to follow orders, keep himself to himself—not fuck a subordinate again. Leave with his head held high, determination strong, impenetrable—

“Did you get all of that?” 

The air around you both tenses, constricting. 

It almost cracks, suddenly pulled to the point it’s making it hard to breathe. His mind is trying to latch to words, but just keeps replaying your entrance—how you stormed in like a hurricane, sweeping everything to the sides and leaving only you. The air shifts under the pressure, poisoned with patchouli and amber, a scent he cannot help but continue to inhale as it tries to stick to the walls—to the inside of him. 

Your eyes change again, sharpening—pitchforks at the ready as though you’ve already built him a stake to burn him on. Them trying to needle into him, undoing the carefully stitched threads that are working hard to keep him together. He equally tries to carve something out of you, work behind the layers, walls and forced aloofness. 

That’s when he finds it—hidden under carefully placed truths and hidden lies: hope. 

His heart descends, spluttering in annoyance. Because people pin that to him more than anything else. They assume he’s the answer—the centre of something big, important. A beacon they’ve all been waiting for, the one who can slay the biggest monsters and undo the greatest of crimes.

He feels it. 

How they say they wrap him in armour, but actually weigh him down in expectations. 

He moves his index and middle finger in the same pattern against his thumb. A slow rotation once, before moving it the other way twice. The pain in his head continued to throb, to pulse—his free hand rubbing that spot on his forehead. 

“I can repeat the basics, if that would be easier?” 

Your voice is like syrup—dripping into his ears, yet they’re not sticking. They’re clumping, forming somewhere between his ears and not filing themselves where they’re supposed to be. 

He can’t find the word no, or thank you. Unsure as he looks at you, how to explain this isn’t your words, but everything else. That there’s something sitting on his chest—has been since Escobar. That it lies there, dormant, waiting. 

“Sir…” 

He snorts, both at the way you say his title and that you’re the billionth person to call it him. Suddenly realising, knowing that the reason he cannot find the word no or thank you, is because they’re not the words he truly wants to say. Javi wants to say that he can’t take in your words because the floor is slipping away, his blood is bubbling nervously in his ears, heart and throat. 

Swallowing, he meets your eyes, wondering if you know that he feels like he’s drowning and yet he’s on land. While the ground feels and appears tough, firm and solid, it’s sliding under it—back to the flames he baptised himself in last time. The licks of fire singeing the edges of his skin.

Mainly, Javi wants to tell you that your to-do list that’s bigger than even you… he’s not sure what to do with any of it. 

You step closer, heels echoing in the small space as you slam the files on his desk—a piece of ripped paper capturing his attention. Your handwriting, all swirls and legible letters—not the writing of a man or another idiot in this place. Not able to pull himself away from it until he feels your fingers on his bicep, tight but soft in nature. 

“Breathe.”

You whisper it, let it greet the air with more kindness than you’ve shown since you burst into his office. Your thumb draws a triangle shape against his jacket, as you repeat the one word again. 

“What?”

Javi doesn’t mean to spit it—to let it hit the air harshly and questioningly. He doesn’t mean to be blunt or direct, shattering your softness and mellow tone. 

You pull your hand back all the same, but your face doesn’t shift—doesn’t change—and you also don't move. 

“Take a breath,” you say, in a tone devoid of any emotion. “You… look like you need it. And, I know I reeled off a lot there, but we’ll find ways.” 

Eyes full of something he can’t place—like knowing, experience and grief. Your unspoken words slide into his mind without needing to speak them. 

“We because you and I, we’re going to find ways around problems. I’m not Stoddard, and I’m not one of the idiots out there, Agent Peña.”

His pulse quickens, especially when you take a step back, pulling a piece of paper from the top of the pile before placing it more firmly in front of his chair. More in view, if he were to lean forward.

“I cannot put a vest on and leave these walls to do your bidding, but I can do a fucking lot inside these walls. With sheer will and a sharp tongue. This is what I’ll do for you. I’m the one who does your grunt work, so you can make the difference; I’m the one who’ll take the mountain of shit first, so you can make that difference. I’ll hold up the goddamn walls, Peña. You just have to tell me what street and what number. Whatever you need me for, I am here. So, breathe.” 

Your words almost make him crack—make him believe for a second that what you said was true. 

But, Javi knows better—has seen so much.

He’s played the game, seen the deceit wrapped in kindness, and been spat out because of it. 

“Alright…”

You nod, shifting your weight, watching you be lulled into a false sense of security—wondering if your walls are down enough for him to see a real answer on your face as he asks:

“Answer me this, Agent. What did they give you?”

It’s instant—the way you flinch. Small, likely not visible to most. 

Truthfully, it catches him by surprise, not expecting it. Having spent a large chunk of time around people who hold secrets, he’s not seen that one happen before. Not so quickly, not so naturally it flitters and is removed before he can truly take notice of it. 

Regret bathes him. Falls in heavy buckets from the ceiling down onto him, and he stuffs the feeling down under his suit and faultily-thrown-up ego. 

Even if the words to take it back are so easily there, readily available to be spoken—

“Not a glass prison,” you reply, words as sharp as knives.

Your back straightens again, face unreadable as you snatch your notebook from the files, the soles of your shoes making their exit before you pause, giving him one last look. 

“I’ll be at my desk, Sir.”

You don’t slam the door back into place, but rather cautiously slide it until he’s alone, lifting your chin, eyes holding his. 

Fuck.

Blanketed in low light and the soft twinkles of the bar’s fairy lights, Javi spots you immediately. 

Your jacket is removed, hanging limply from the barstool you’re sitting on, swirling the crystal glass, sloshing the liquid and ice inside of it. 

It’s instant—the twist of guilt in his stomach. 

He’s tried to speak to you. Tries to find ways to apologise without as much as saying it. But, you’re good. If he tries to ask you about work, you are nothing short of professional. Calling him sir, fetching what he needs and handing him notes—needling yourself further into his guilt. 

Outside of those moments, when he’d offered you coffee, you’d simply lifted your full mug without as much as meeting his eye. He had even tried to beat you into work, only to find you already there, your desk lamp being all that illuminated the office as you tore through files and mumbled a brief morning. 

The only benefit to your ignorance towards him is he’s been able to watch how soft you could be—how you smile with ease and how gentle your voice could be with those that aren’t him. He’d been able to watch the dynamics of the people who approach you, a taller one making you smirk and a more blonder man able to make your back straighter than he can. 

It’s also allowed him to peer under the hard exterior and defensive tone, and learn more about you from others.

Luna. That’s what they call you—a callsign, codename. A reference to your last operation in Cali before you forced yourself to be on desk work. A name chosen by you, they said—now one you fit so perfectly. One with the night, never sleeping, never leaving the office. 

Now, you’re here. 

Haunting him out of work as you are his work life. If he had known you drank here, he’d have grabbed a bottle and drank alone in his apartment. Not caring for the uptempo music and the fact others stare at him. 

He knows he’s giving more to Colombia than he ever should have—both fractions of his soul and his pride, as well as pieces of his future. The notion forces him to undo his tie as he walks over, letting his tie hang as he slides his jacket off—trying not to fixate on you. 

Even in the low lighting, he sees your perfectly manicured nails and the way your lips slide into a smirk. You roll your wrist as he slides into the chair beside you, amber and ice swirling with your motions—likely making a rhythmic noise if not for the loud music. 

We’re going to find ways around problems. 

“Evening… Sir.” 

He’d found your file, and read the pieces he was able to. He knows a redacted file when he sees one, but the main points are still there—still bold in pressed ink and serif. 

Javi smirks, both at the fact you still haven’t looked at him and the fact he can’t get used to being called sir. Least of all when it falls from your lips—a hidden note to it when you let it leave your tongue. Mouth curling around each letter as you let it float to his ears. 

It’s almost torturous when you say it—just like your perfume has grown to be. Hanging heavy in the air when he walks through, giving him hints of where you are, where you’ve been. He’s also been able to discern vanilla is another element to it, mind flicking to you when he smells a note from your perfume. 

He knows he’d be able to work out the other notes if he allowed himself to. Be able to work out which ones are all you and which you soak your skin in. 

You bring the glass to your lips, draining the liquid down your throat before placing it between the two of you, taking the hint.

“Same again?”

Nodding—direct and clinical, just like a well-trained agent. “Por favor.”

There’s a story. One which goes deep or goes high, he hasn’t quite worked it out. Knowing there has to be a reason for so much to have been removed and a reason why someone as talented as you has been saddled to a desk. If he were more drinks in, he’d ask. Bite the bullet, use his lack of tact to make you angry until you’re bursting at the seams, spilling all of your treasured truths. 

You don’t look at him until your glass is full, and then your eyes meet his, placing him under a spotlight. Illuminating him, making him glow as you make his skin warm and his shirt clings more to his spine. No words leave your lips as you bring the glass back up, taking the smallest sip as you smirk—letting the silence thicken. 

She’s good. Talented.

That’s what he’s been told by Crosby. No further explanation, moving quickly on. 

“You have secrets.” 

You laugh, harsh and short. “Oh, don’t we all. I know a lot about yours.”

“You gonna start calling me a hero too, Luna?”

Pursing your lips, your eyes narrow briefly. He watches as your head tilts, eyes not sharpening or changing, but something in you does. Likely to do with the name—the codeword. The one they used when you were down in Cali to refer to you. 

“I wouldn’t waste my breath telling you something you don’t believe.” You let the words hang, brew and fizz. “You don’t get to call me that, either.”

You take a long sip, rolling your lips together as he brings his own to his lips. He coats his tongue in it, attempting to smother the growing anxiousness embedding itself into his bones. Because there’s something about the way you stare at him, how it makes things unlodge and shift inside of him. 

“You should also know, Peña. I’m harder to sleep with than an informant and I’m not half as impressed by you as Katie, the intern.” 

He tenses, visibly. Not able to hide it, bury it. He doesn’t miss the tone, the way you say it with brimstone and annoyance. The hair along his neck standing on edge as you continue to stare, to dig into him. 

“What… here all of one day and you already managed to fuck the intern. My hero.” 

His cheeks burn, draining his glass as the whiskey does a good job of burning his insides. Hating how you know—how you’re unafraid of lifting a mirror to show him his failings. He despises that you know the edges of him, pierces—the worst parts of him. 

Mainly, he dislikes that you’re smirking, sipping your glass as though taking a victory sip. A checkmate. 

“I sat next to you because I thought you’d cause me the least amount of issues.”

Smirking broader, you tilt your head. “You clearly don’t know me then, Peña.”

“No, Luna. I don’t.”

Placing his glass down, slowly rubbing the base of his palm against his forehead. Regretting coming here, regretting thinking he could… 

“I’m sorry. For… the other day. For upsetting you now.”

You lean back, something between the two of you shifting as he watches you sigh. The music changes, slowing, almost quietening. “I’m a bit impressed you know that word.”

He almost laughs. Letting the thick silence thrum between the two of you, resting his elbow on the bar’s counter as he watches you play with your glass.

Clearing your throat, you refuse to meet his eyes as you ask, “It’s likely the whiskey… but, you doing okay, Sir?” 

He watches as you roll your finger across the rim, occasionally glancing at him, but never meeting his eyes. 

Something he suddenly wants—desperate to earn the sight of them. 

“Less of the ‘sir’.”

It’s then he hears you laugh. Low, smothered by faux indifference, compared to the usual you so easily muster. 

“The barrel—barrels—they have you over… i get it. I meant what I said, Javier. If you need an ear,” you say, fingers flexing across the counter as you meet his gaze. “You’re not the only one, to be fucked by bureaucracy—is all I mean. But, you likely know that, right? Heard all about me, and my failings. Have to if you’re calling me my cover name.”

He swallows, watching your chin dip, eyes falling to your lap.

“They make you feel like you’re it, and then just as easily they’ll rip it from you—and you’re left with… nothing.” 

It fluctuates—changes—some shadow of truth emerging from the depths between them as it stands before them both, almost warningly, but not threatening. He can’t understand it, can’t read it fully, but knows it’s there. 

And then you smile, vanishing it all away as you offer him your name again. 

As though you hadn’t already handed it to him, as if he hadn’t already committed it to memory and tried it on his tongue. 

“--just in case you didn’t listen to me before.” “I listened.”

Your lips curl. “Yeah? That before or after you checked out my ass?”

He says nothing, taking your glass and draining it. 

“Don’t call me Luna.”

“Why, you hate it or something?”

You say nothing for a moment before you turn to the bartender—ordering them both another drink. 

He finds you taste like heaven and hell all at once. 

You burn him, consume him—desperately trying to rip through him. He’d let you. Aid you in shredding him apart as long as your sweet, full lips remain pressed to his. They pull him from self-deprecation and overwhelmingness, gripping your waist as he gets you inside his place, pressing your spine against the inside of his door as you let out that honeyed whimper he heard outside the bar. 

You taking me to yours, Peña? Can do.  Don’t pretend you’ve not been thinkin’ it for the last hour. 

One of your arms slings around his neck, eyes full of molten fire and lust as you capture his lips. Pressing yourself roughly against his body, allowing him to pull you so flush he feels the buttons of your blouse against him. 

Before we do this—you clean? Yes, I’m fucking clean. Just checking. I don’t know where you’ve been, Peña. Get in the car. 

The moment halts, pauses. It breathes between you, all set to unravel as your eyes ghost over him, breath merging with his as he stares at you. 

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty.”

Your lips curl into a smile, one he strokes with his thumb. “Thank you, Sir.”

Fuck. That word. It drips from your tongue to his ear and down to his cock. His lips messily meeting yours, every other touch precise and well-versed, as though the two of you have done this before together. The movements are painted together by moans and whimpers, a part of him sliding back into place as clothes—both yours and his—fall to the floor in the wake of him getting you to his bed. 

He runs his thumb over your blouse-covered peak, his teeth running down your neck to a spot which makes your nails dig into the back of his head. Your other hand is on his spine, fingers sprayed as he moves you elegantly around the furniture like it’s a dance and not ruination. 

Then your lips find him again, pulling him up, teeth slightly nibbling at his bottom lip. You kiss him like you’re breathing life into him—trying to awaken parts of him stolen months ago. Pity, guilt and an array of other things are all smothered by the way your tongue slides past his teeth. Your fingers are busy in their pursuit, the clanging of metal undoing hammers into the air as his trousers ease from his hips. 

“Thought you were harder to sleep with.”

Your laugh blends with a moan as he presses you against the wall outside his room, hand snaking inside your underwear. 

The fabric cuts into his palm, sliding two fingers into your slick as you clench around him—enveloping him, coating him in your want and need. 

He waits for the back-pedalling for you to tell him something egotistical like others usually do. Only, you don’t. 

“Took pity… fuck—on you. Seemed like—oh, fuck—you need this.” Your hand clutches his cheek, eyes burning into his as your lips try to capture his, just about ghosting, the sensation of it almost making his move against the air. “Plus… thought you’d be better than my—oh, Peña—fingers… Sir.” 

He emits a groan which comes from somewhere at the back of his throat. It makes him crash his mouth to yours, fingers twisting to find the spot that makes your knees weaken. He tastes the whiskey and the mint you’d popped on your tongue when they’d left the bar. 

He smells your perfume, noticing how it wraps around him, digging its claws into him, smearing over his skin. 

“Wanna taste you…”

You clench your walls around his fingers, nails digging into his cheek and waist as you stare, slowly nodding. 

Not allowing you to change your mind, he frees his hand from your underwear, picking you up, kicking the door of his bedroom open as he takes in the small yelp from the sudden movements. 

It’s not until you’re lay against his sheets, eyes coating him in a potion mixed of lust, pleasure and need, swirling shades all around him he couldn’t begin to name, does he really take notice of how fucking beautiful you are. He’d seen it, noted it—but hadn’t allowed himself to truly appreciate it, something he began making up for as he slowly drops to his knees, pulling you a little closer. 

You watch him watch you, chest rising and falling before him. 

“Javi,” he breathes as he hooks a thumb on either side of your underwear, beginning to slide it down your thighs. “That’s what you should call out when I make you come on my tongue.” 

He places a kiss to the inside of your knee as you moan, discarding your underwear before hooking your legs over his shoulders—noticing how wet you are, allowing his breath to dance over it, purposefully blowing it as your hips wiggle in both desperation and apprehension. 

“You have to earn that,” you murmur, missing your usual confidence as he stares at you through his lashes. “Sir.”

He smirks, and then he devours you. Tongue flattening against you at first before he plunges it inside of your folds, tasting you—tasting how much you’ve wanted him since your eyes had begun flicking from his lips to his eyes. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thigh, hearing you—a chorus of please, Peña,  fuck and—

Javi. 

After a night of Peña and a day of sirs—it’s bliss. His name falling from your lips makes him rock his hips for friction. Makes him want to halt his plans to have you come on his tongue, and instead bury himself to the hilt inside of you. 

But there’s time. 

He knows this. Wants this. He wants to take you apart with the same tongue that made you mad. He wants to apologise with the mouth which went too far. He wants to know what your pleasure truly tastes like and commit each note of it to his taste buds. 

You lose it when he sucks lightly on your bundle of nerves, swiping his tongue in slow and quick circles one way, and then the other— “Fuck, Javi. Please—please, fuck—let me…”

He grins. Plunging his fingers back inside of you, curling them, letting them meet that spot he discovered earlier, that he now wants to conquer. Feeling how tight you are, how soaked. How each movement makes a sound which blends with the sound of your pleas—a compilation he wouldn’t ever let be taken from him. A sound he’s happy to burn into his brain. 

Each movement takes you closer to the edge. Your nails carve through his hair, digging into his scalp as his name falls and falls in a mixture of moans. 

He swirled his tongue in a way which makes your hips buck, and he grips you tightly, not letting you move from it until you were breaking, snapping—

The sound you emit sprays across the walls of his bedroom, his tongue lapping up every drop you’ll give him—ears taking in each infliction and sound you bestow on him. 

“Fuck,” you say when you come down, all breathy and sweet.

Fuck, he thinks. Swiping his fingers across his chin, licking you from them as you pull him up from between your legs, kissing him—tasting yourself on him as he grasps her cheek and jaw, falling against the sheets with you.

“Need you.”

“Sí?”

You smirk, all devious and devilish—sliding your leg over his as he grips your hip—digging his thumb into your skin as you whisper in Spanish:

Ruin me. 

He halts, letting the words circle as you bite your lip, rolling your hips against him—knowing he was going to do just that. Over and over again. Savour each moan of yours until even in the morning, before responsibilities and rights and wrongs sneak back in, he would need you again.

Except, Javi doesn’t wake up with you beside him in the morning. 

He wakes up alone, bed sheets cold—and something akin to disappointment fluttering in his chest: you left.

Briefly, he wonders if it's karma. Another arrow to his knee, a mirror confronting him of his past mistakes. Because, he shouldn’t be bothered that you left—preferring to avoid mess and complication.

But it stung. It irked him. Because usually, it was he who did the leaving, not the woman he had just slept with. 

chapter two ->

[supernaturalgirl20]

Love Me or Leave Me

Part 2

Pairings: Javier Pena x f!reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, explicit, unprotected sex, PinV sex, mutual pining, slow burn, jealousy, angst, fluff, sexism, forbidden relationship.

Summary: Your Javiers’s secretary. One he does not want. You are also the ambassadors daughter which he hates even more. What happens when the hate you have for each other slowly turns to something else? What will your father say when he finds out?

Reblogs appreciated 🥰

Javi reached across to grab her purse and pull out the box of cigarettes, quickly lighting one up. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He’d sworn to himself he wouldn’t do this again but then you came crashing into his life and trampled all over him. He didn’t stand a chance. He had to get out of here he thought to himself as he slowly slipped from the bed, quick to grab his clothes and leave.

Resting his head back against the cool metal wall of the elevator his mind went to you last night. How fucking good you looked in that damn tight dress and he could feel himself getting hard again. Shaking those thoughts from his head he stand straighter as the elevator comes to a stop. He’s early. Earlier than most and he prays he can get into his office without any interaction. A fleeting thought that is quickly crushed when his eyes land you sitting at your desk typing away.

A quiet groan leaves his mouth as he starts to make his way towards his office, eyes focused straight ahead, determined not to look at you. Please, please don’t talk, please.

“Someone got laid last night,” you say with a slight snort. Javi closes his eyes and lets out a deep sigh.

“What are going on about?”

“Really? You’re going to pull that one when your clearly wearing the same suit as yesterday, your hair is a little disheveled and you’ve got lipstick on your neck. Real classy Pena.”

“Someone jealous are they?”

“Ha not in this lifetime. I’ve left some files on your desk, Crosby wants you to look them over and report back to him later.”

“Don’t you mean…”

You stand abruptly and put your finger on his lips, your eyes staring right into his. He feels like his heart is going to burst out of his chest at the feel of your warm skin on his lips.

“Don’t you fucking dare say it. If you’re so desperate for those words to fall from my lips then you better fucking woo me first.”

Pulling your hand away you make your way towards the coffee machine, leaving him standing there gawping like an idiot, again. He releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding and curses to himself as he storms into his office. Fucking perfect.

***

“Y/N?”

Closing your eyes you take a deep breath as you try to calm yourself. This was the tenth time he has called you in an hour and you were getting pissed. Standing up, you quickly adjust your skirt as you make your way into his office, the biggest smile plastered on your face.

“You called!”

“Can you get me some..”

“Sir I found something,” Fiestl say as he barges into his office.

“Oh sorry…hi I’m Chris you must be the beautiful secretary I’ve been hearing so much about.” You blush at his compliment and fiddle with your hair as he continues to stare at you.

“What is it Fiestl?” Javi says loudly, his voice dripping in anger.

“Sorry sir. I found a link to an offshore account I think they’re…”

“That’s it?! We had that months ago I need more.”

“Oh I thought this was…”

“Unless you have something concrete, don’t bother me again.”

“Sorry sir,” he says slowly turning to leave before grabbing your attention.

“Hey do you wanna grab some lunch maybe?”

“She’s busy.”

You glare at Javier as he continues to keep his head down focused on the papers in front of him. “Well then maybe dinner..”

“Out! Now!” Chris hurries out the door and back to his desk. Turning back towards Javier you move down over his desk, the blouse your wearing revealing the top of your breasts as you lean over to whisper in his ear.

“Now’s who’s jealous?!”

***

Your day had been - a breeze really. Javier had been busy at meetings all day and you were on top of all the paperwork so you decided to take a quick coffee break.

Making your way back into the embassy you overhear some of the other agents talking, passing no remarks until you hear them mention Javier and your father.

“I heard he got absolutely chewed a new one by Crosby. Serves him right though, I mean who does think he is coming back over here trying to run the show. We don’t need him.”

“Crosby fucking hates him.”

“Yeah I heard he’s back to his old truck again too, fucked that intern last night.”

“Same old Javier Pena.”

Rolling your eyes you scoot past and make your way back to your desk, eyes glancing into his office but he’s not back yet. Wonder where he is? Grabbing some of the files he was finished with you decide to bring them back to storage. Nothing else to do really.

The halls are practically empty as the day dies down and you don’t realise there’s anyone else there until you here his voice. He’s talking to someone and you move a little closer to try and hear what’s being said.

“If there was any justice in the world Agent Pena, you would have been arrested.”

Whoever he’s talking too clearly has some issues with him and you can tell from the way his shoulder stiffen that this has hit him hard. You heard about what he did last time with Los Pepes and honestly you can’t blame him. He did what he thought was the right thing to catch a bad guy. Sure he could have done it differently but that’s life, we live and we learn.

Waiting until they’ve gone you quickly make your way to storage and then back to your desk. Gathering up your things for the day you hear a muffled ‘fuck’ come from his office and against your better judgment you but your bag in your desk and knock on his office door.

“What!”

***

This day has been a clusterfuck.

First, the two agents he had in Cali were made and he had to send them packing back to America. Which didn’t go to well. To make matters worse, Crosby is on his ass to wrap things up. Which would be a hell of a lot easier if he could send two new agents to Cali but he’s under strict orders to stay grounded. I need a fucking cigarette.

Pacing his office he curses loudly before rummaging through his desk drawers. Letting out a frustrated sigh when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for.

“Fuck!”

Bracing himself on his desk eyes closed he takes in a deep breath, willing himself to calm down. He thinks it even starts to work until he hears a knock at his door.

“What?!”

“I’m gonna head out for the day,” you say as you poke your head in his door. “Everything ok?” Javi doesn’t look at you just shrugs off his suit jacket and throws himself onto his couch, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Please just leave I don’t want to take this out on you.

“Here,” you say softly as you hand him a glass of whiskey. “You look like you need it.” He stares at your hand for longer than he should before taking the glass and downing it.

“Thanks.”

“I take it things didn’t go to plan in your meeting?”

“Could say that.”

He realises he’s being short with you and the guilt starts to eat at him, it’s not your fault your fathers an asshole. Finally looking up at you he finds you already making your way towards the door. Please don’t leave.

“Look, if it’s any consolation you’re great at your job so just go with your gut. Do what you think is right. That and Crosby is a glorified dick.” He can’t help but snort at that.

Javi looks at you now a mix of admiration and awe on his face. “Do you normally talk about your father like that?”

Your hand reaches for the door handle and as you open it you look up at him one more time, “some men, are only fathers by name,” and then your gone. He sees you gather your things through the window and he can’t help the smile that spreads across his face. Maybe you were coming round to him after all.

“Goodnight Agent Pena, try to actually get some sleep tonight.” There’s my girl.

Part 3

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[autumnleaves1991-blog]

Day 10: Used Tea Bags - Javier Pena

Day 10: Used Tea Bags - Javier Pena 

This takes place during season 3 of Narcos. Honestly I love season 3 Javier when he’s the boss and even more stressed and I just want to rub his shoulders and tell him it’s all going to be okay. 

Pairing: Javier Pena x reader 

Rating: 18+ language and implied sexual situations. 

November Writing Challenge Masterlist (Holy crap I am 1/3 of the way done!) 

Day 9: No, you don’t - Maxwell Lord 

It was late, the sounds of cumbia played through the open window from the bar down the street. The well worn kitchen table is covered in maps, half drunken cups of coffee, a chipped plate is covered in cigarette butts, some still smoldering, and on another is several used tea bags bleeding onto the plate. The world should be sleeping but not here, here there were plans to be made. 

Javier Pena kneeled next to the coffee table flanked by Trujillo, and Colonel Hugo Martinez on his left and Chris Feistl and Daniel Van Ness on his right. A map of Cali with different routes to the airport are highlighted. The Cali police force are crooked as hell so they needed a way around them, if they got in there and actually found Gilberto Rodriquez they needed to figure a way to get him out of Cali and back to Bogota without any corruption. The only way to do that was to plan everything in secret. 

You had been assigned to work with Javier upon his return to Columbia as his assistant. Everyone had warned you before he got there about Agent Pena, saying he was an asshole, womanizer, and should have gone to jail for his involvement with Los Pepes. But, you tried to go into it with an open mind. 

When you first introduced yourself the only thing that stuck out to you was how exhausted he looked and not just physically. His eyes held a weariness that couldn’t fade from only a good night's rest. He was reluctant at first to accept any help whether it be in the form of a cup of coffee, an ashtray, or a file he had left on your desk the night before. 

But you never gave up, always thinking one step ahead of him. You handed him a file before he even asked for it, you brought him lunch before he starved to death in his office, and you always knew when he was low on cigarettes because a new pack would appear on his desk. He tried to tell you he was quitting but you both knew that was bull shit. 

When Feistl and Van Ness made their connection to ‘Natalia’ the informant inside the Cali cartel things began to move quickly. It became apparent that they needed to work under the radar on this one. They needed to find somewhere they could meet but would also be discreet and before Javier could even asked you offered your apartment as ground zero for taking down Gilberto Rodriquez. The small government provided apartment wasn’t meant to hold more than maybe two people but over the past few nights it held at least ten at all times. Not only the Colonel, and Trujillo but Pena, the DEA guys, and several loyal members of Search Bloc. 

At this point you're sure your neighbors believe you’ve become a prostitute from the revolving door of men who come through your door during the night. Especially Senora Rivera who yesterday morning gave you a rosary before telling you she is praying that you don’t get any diseases from the men you keep company. What a charming neighbor she is. You're tempted to bake her some chocolate chip cookies and ask a few Search Bloc guys to deliver them but you know that will only make it worse. 

Javi is going over the plan for the twelfth time that night and you're in the kitchen making another pot of coffee. You yawn silently to yourself before pouring the steaming magic into the cups and putting them on the tray to bring them to the men in the living room. They nod there thanks and you return the gesture taking the remaining two cups over to the window and tapping lightly. On the fire escape are two armed Search Bloc members keeping their eyes open onto the street below. They take the cups gratefully before thanking you. 

“Estrella, can you come over here?” Javier calls you. 

You turn raising one eyebrow at the nickname but you don’t correct him, “Si, what’s up?” 

“I want you to sit down and listen to the plan, if there is anything you think we missed or does not add up I need you to tell me. People’s lives could be at stake if we make any mistakes.” 

Feistl sighs loudly running his hands over his face, “Pena why the hell are you going to explain this to her? She’s not going to understand any of this!” 

You have to bite your tongue before you say something you regret. Luckily the looks the other men give him are enough to shut him up. “Because idiot it’s good to get a fresh set of eyes on these things, and she can always see things before I even think them so sit down, shut up, and let her listen. I’m sorry Estrella, can you sit please?” he gestures to the seat across from him. 

You sit down and nod your head. Javier proceeds to go through the entire plan again. Describing the whole thing from beginning to end, it was truly brilliant to use a poultry truck to transport Rodriquez to the airport, no one would be looking for a poultry truck….Except for any of the crooked Cali cops that see him being arrested. 

You interrupt Javier, “What about two trucks?” 

“What do you mean Estrella?” 

You try to prevent the blush that is slowly creeping up your neck from the new nickname, “I mean using the poultry truck is brilliant but why not have two trucks a decoy to mislead them. Someone else can drive the other truck and lead the cops on a wild goose chase while the truck containing Rodriquez goes to the airport.” 

The Colonel grabs a new cigarette before lighting it, “that's’ damn genius, they will see the truck when we arrest Gilberto but they won’t know there are two. We get them to follow the wrong truck and we are in the clear,” he smiles at you, the first smile you had seen on his face. 

Javier is just about beaming at you from across the table and you listen for several more hours as they rework the plan to include your idea. When they finish each man feels like the best plan has been laid forward and they break up the group to go home. Tomorrow would be a big day for them all and they would need to be on the road to Cali by ten AM if they wanted their plan to work. 

You walk everyone to the door, and as they leave one by one they thank you for the use of your apartment until they are all gone except for Javier and Fiestl. “Hey boss, are you leaving soon? I want to have a private talk with our hostess,” Fiestl asks gesturing with his thumb toward you.  

You frantically shake your head no begging Javier not to leave you alone with the DEA agent, “Actually I have some more things to finalize before we leave tomorrow, just ignore me it will be like I’m not even here,” he smirks at you and you are half tempted to walk across the room and slap the smirk off his face. 

Chris turns to you, “So uhm listen, I know that this is all really scary for you, but I want to let you know that we are all going to be ok. And I was kind of wondering when we get back if you’d like to go out and get a drink?” 

You try not to let the cringe show on your face, “Oh uhm Chris, thank you but I don’t really drink and uhm…” you're trying to think of some other excuse when you lock eyes with Javier across the room. Gone is the smirk and instead you see something dark in his eyes, unwavering, and you know what to say, “I’m actually already with someone else, it’s not really a public thing but I’m really serious about him.” 

Chris’s right arm comes up to scratch the back of his head, and he lets out an awkward chuckle. “It’s ok, you don’t have to lie to me. I understand.” 

“I’m not lying. This guy he...he drives me crazy, he’s better than any drug on the market I...I’m already taken, I’m his.” You can feel the burning gaze of the man on the couch and it takes all your strength not to look at him, 

Chris lowers his head nodding before turning towards the door turning at the last moment to say, “he’s a lucky man then, goodnight,” before he leaves shutting the door behind him. 

You don’t turn away from the door scared to death of what you will see behind you. You are so focused on keeping your breathing level you don’t notice Javier has gotten up and is now behind you. You let out a small yelp when he spins you around to face him. “Did you mean it?” His voice is raspy and deep from years of smoking and his cologne is deep and strong in your lungs. 

You're worried your voice will betray you but you need to get this out, “Yes...you do drive me absolutely insane, but we both know what’s been going on here, I’m yours...I’ve always been yours,” you whisper. 

The hands on your waist slide against your lower back pulling you even closer to him. You can smell the smoke, and coffee on his breath and you try to calm down your heartbeat but it’s useless when he looks you in the eyes and says, “mine.” 

You crash together, his mouth is fused to your own and every single one of your senses is screaming Javier. His taste, his touch, his smell it’s all overwhelming and you cry out when you feel him grope your breast through your shirt. His lips move towards your neck and begin nipping as his tongue tracing along the same path to the curve of your ear, “bedroom?” The raspy question breaks you from the haze and you pull him towards the small bedroom. 

The whole way your lips never break from his skin even though you both aren’t the most graceful and when you both land in the bed with a small grunt that’s the last discomfort you felt for the night, from then on it was all pleasure. 

When the sunlight streams through the sheer curtains the next morning, illuminating the bed in the warm glow of the morning. Rough calloused fingers trace patterns over the top of your exposed back and you smile before nuzzling yourself further in the warmth of Javier’s chest. He smells like smoke, leather, and cologne; an intoxicating combination. 

“I have to leave soon,” his voice is raspy and heavy from sleep. 

“I know...but I really wish you didn’t have too,” you tell him, pulling back to look into his eyes, “but when you come back you will be the man who took down Gilberto Rodriguez.”

“This better work,” he sighs, “or else I will probably be sent back stateside, I messed up once already, they aren’t going to let me do it again.” 

“You're going to succeed! Don’t be so defeatist, your amazing at what you do your-” 

“Would you come with me?” he asks so quietly you almost don’t hear him. 

“What?” you whisper. 

He takes a few minutes to collect himself before he asks again, “if I get sent home, would you come with me back to Texas? I...I am not the same person I was when I first came here. Yes, I drink too much, I smoke too much, and I can be a real asshole but I’ve never been shy about what I want. I want you Estrella.” 

You have to remind yourself to breathe before you close your eyes letting out a small sigh, “Yes, yes I would go with you Javi. Remember what I said last night? I’m yours.” 

He pulls you back towards his chest, putting a finger underneath your chin and fusing your lips together he only pulls back once to repeat the same thing he told you the night before, “mine.” 

Day 11: Walking the dog- William Miller 

[hopelikethemoon]

Headlines (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: Headlines Rating: PG-13 Length: 2000 Warnings: None. Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set in March 1998. Summary: The article hits the newstands. 

@grapemama​​ @seawhisperer​​ @huliabitch​​ @pedropascalito​​ @rogrsnbarnes​ @thewallpapergoesorido​ @twomoonstwosuns​​ @gooddaykate​​ @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow​ @plexflexico​​ @readsalot73 @hdlynn​​ @lokiaddicted​​ @randomness501​ @fioccodineveautunnale​  @roxypeanut​​ @snivellusim​ @lukesrighthand​ @historynerd04​ @mrsparknuts​ @synystersilenceinblacknwhite​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper​​ @awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie​ @swhiskeys​ @lady-tano​​ @beskar-droids​ @space-floozy @cable-kenobi​​ @cool-ultra-nerd @himbopoes​​ @findhimfives​​ @pedrosdoll​ @frietiemeloen​ @arrowswithwifi @random066​ @uncomicalhumour​​ @heather-lynn​​ @domino-oh-damn​ @cyarikaaa​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​ @im-still-a-pieceofgarbage @ksgeekgirl  @yabby-girl @xqueenofthecraziesx @punkass-potato​ @coredrive​​​ @pascalesque​​ @theduchessofkirkcaldy​​​ @queenquazar​​ @sabinemorans​​​ @buckstaposition​ @holkaskrosnou​​ @yespolkadotkitty​​ @fleetwoodmactshirt​ @seeking-a-great--perhaps​

DRUG ENFORCEMENT AGENCY UNDER FIRE FOR GENDER-BASED DISCRIMINATION 

America was captivated by the DEA’s pursuit of the Colombian drug lord Pablo Escobar. Following his death in 1993, two names became synonymous with the chase — but there was another name carefully removed from the narrative. 

In 1987, Annie Morley transferred to Colombia from the DEA’s Atlanta Division eager to make a name for herself within one of the government’s most notorious agencies. Her drive led to numerous successful apprehensions. Most notably, she led the takedown on a notorious associate of Escobar within her first twenty-four hours with the agency. 

The DEA rewarded her loyalty to the agency by burying her efforts and scrubbing her dedication from the record books. 

Following Escobar’s death, Morley entered into a quiet relationship with her longtime partner, Javier Peña. After years of fighting against the rampant sexism at the embassy, she was forced to conceal not only the relationship, but the paternity of her daughter.

The DEA’s response to her pregnancy was to place her on indefinite desk duty, prematurely ending the career of one of their best field agents. She was replaced by Chris Fiestle, a junior agent with a record for complacency, forged documentation, multiple disciplinary infractions, and at least one harassment-based misdemeanor on his record. Fiestle’s connections within the DEA agency allowed for his unowned momentum, despite his unfavourable records. While Morley found herself under increased scrutiny, harassment, and intimidation merely due to her transition into motherhood.

Once the couple’s relationship became known to the agency, the DEA swiftly severed Morley’s employment and terminated her work permit sponsorship in Colombia. Morley and Peña have provided the paper with first person accounts and documentation of numerous actions undertaken by the DEA to silence, intimidate, harassment, and even blackmail them into subjugation. 

Files obtained by the Post, courtesy of the Freedom of Information Act have confirmed internal communication between several upper level members of the DEA actively conspiring against the couple. Including, but not limited to, explicit correspondence reflecting on the nature of Morley’s morals and whether other members of the agency would be willing to “share her”. 

Two years ago, Peña contacted the Post to investigate Morley’s omission from official DEA records and was met by the DEA financially blackmailing one of his students at The University of Miami, orchestrating false sexual assault claims in an attempt to silence their attempts at going to the press with their story.

The Post will continue coverage on these shocking allegations next month. 

 ———

 The newspaper trembled as your eyes skimmed over the article. There it was. In print. The summation of your six years with the DEA. Pictures of the three of you on assignment — a copy of the one that had sat framed in your apartment for years. You had been there. You had given your blood, sweat, and tears to the agency and in return, they’d buried your contributions all because you had become a mother. 

“I didn’t know that.” You remarked, peering over the edge of the newspaper, watching Javier as he read through his own copy of the Post. 

“What?” He questioned, arching a brow at you. 

“That they wanted to share me.” Just repeating what you had read made your skin crawl. You sat in briefings with those assholes — stupidly thinking they saw you as an agent and not as a woman. “I must’ve missed that in the FOIA files.” 

Javier nodded, “That’s tame, in comparison to what Vickers has sitting on his desk.” He reached over and gave your leg a squeeze. “You good, baby?”

“It’s just surreal.” You admitted, covering his hand with yours as you sat up. “I never thought it would come to this, you know? When we were back in Colombia — before Josie… I would never have imagined this.” You gestured to the paper. 

And it was just the beginning. Now that it was out, you were certain the DEA would retaliate. They’d dredge up something to hurt your image, to hurt Javier’s. They played dirty and you weren’t sure how swift their retaliation would be this time. 

“I wish I could be a fly on the wall when Chris reads this.” Javier said, loosely shaking out the newspaper before folding it closed and sitting it aside on the coffee table. He stared at you for a long moment and you could feel his eyes on you. “C’mere baby.” 

You sighed heavily as you sat the newspaper aside, crawling down the length of the sofa to him. Javier pulled you into his arms and you settled against his chest, listening to his heart beating beneath your ear. 

“Are you glad we did this?” Javier questioned, pressing his lips to the top of your head.

You swallowed thickly, nodding slowly. “I think so.” You trailed your fingers over his arm, drawing little patterns against his skin. “You know, it’s really wild to see our relationship put to print. Because it was a quiet affair, we’ve never made it into something.” 

Javier played his fingers through your hair gently, his other hand sliding down your back. “Do you want to make it into something?”

“No.” 

“I didn’t think so.” He chuckled quietly. “But you’re not wrong, baby. Seeing the two of us in the paper like this — it’s fucking weird.” Javier gestured to the newspaper on the table. “Seeing everything put so plainly, spelled out for the world to see.”

You tilted your head to press a kiss to his throat, “Thank you for this very belated Christmas gift.”

Javier snorted, “Well, we had to have a baby and move first, didn’t we?” He stroked his fingers up and down your back. 

You cracked a smile, resting your cheek against his chest again. “The last year has been a blur.” 

“Make that ten years.”

“Truly.” Your eyes flickered towards the newspaper, your heart best quickening as you stared at the picture of yourself right there on the front page. 

One. Two. Three.

You exhaled heavily.

Javier pressed a kiss to the top of your head, just as the phone started ringing in the kitchen. “I should get that. It might be the daycare.” He remarked, reluctantly starting to get up. 

You pulled away from him, reclining back on the sofa as you watched him head into the kitchen to catch the call on the third ring. 

“Hey, baby?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s for you.”

Your brows rose upwards are the somewhat odd tone Javier was using. You hadn’t actually considered that people might call you in regards to the paper until that moment. 

“Who is it?” You questioned, hands on your hips as you stared at him. He had the receiving pressed to his chest to muffle out your voices. 

“Lance.”

“What?”

Javier shrugged, a casual indifference that you knew wasn’t indifference. 

“Javi,” You rolled your eyes as you took the phone from him. You turned back towards the wall to press the speaker button on the phone. “Hey, Lance! You’re on speaker.”

Lance chuckled coolly, “Saw the headlines this morning, thought I ought to drop a line.”

“Yeah, it’s been a long time coming.” You admitted, folding your arms across your chest. “How’s Sheena?”

“It’s going great. We actually just moved back closer to her parents. She’ll need the help in about four months.”

“Congratulations, Lance.” You offered, “I know how much you wanted kids.”

“Got my wish too. Twins.”

Javier arched a brow at you, looking in between you and the phone. 

“What?” You mouthed. 

He shook his head and headed over to make himself a cup of coffee, eyes still flickering your direction. 

“How are your kids doing?”

“Josie’s a spitfire. I don’t know how she’s going to manage kindergarten.”

“Kindergarten? No shit. How the hell is she five?”

You laughed, “She’s still got a couple months. And Sofía’s doing really well.”

“Sofía. Sheena actually has that one on the name list.”

“It was my mother’s name.” Javier remarked, with just the edge of annoyance to his voice. You stepped away from the phone, curling your fingers around his arm. 

“Stop.” You whispered when he tried to pull his arm away from you. 

“Well then, I’ll promise to steer Sheena away from the name then.” Lance remarked with a good-natured laugh. 

Javier’s expression softened as you cupped his cheek and leaned up on your toes to kiss him. You drew back, brushing your nose against his. “You jealous fool.” You whispered just for him, ruffling your fingers through his hair. 

“I wish I was calling just to congratulate the two of you for sticking it to the DEA, but I, uh… I come with some unfavorable information.” 

You stiffened and Javier reached for your hand. “What do you mean by unfavorable news?”

“Looks like the DEA got ahead of your story in the Post,” Lance explained. “First thing this morning I had the public relations team at the DEA Headquarters calling me. They were wanting any information I would give them about our relationship.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Javier hissed out. 

“Easy there, Peña.” Lance warned him, “I told them we had a good relationship, but we both ultimately wanted different things. They seemed rather disappointed to find out you and I still talk.” 

Javier’s hand tightened around yours. 

“What kind of questions were they asking?” You questioned, biting down on your bottom lip as you worried about what the DEA could possibly be up to. “Specific questions about our relationship?”

“Start and end date. Whether I suspected that you and Javier were more than partners.” Lance chuckled. “You and I were long over before the two of you got together. I told them they didn’t have a story with me. But that means they’re going to be following other leads that might be able to discredit your story.”

“We have the fucking FOID files. There’s nothing to discredit.” You seethed.  

“You’re welcome to pass my contact info along to the journalist,” Lance told you. “I’m happy to lend whatever assistance I might be able to render.” 

“You might be a fucking suit, but you’re not a bad guy, Lance.” Javier retorted, his tongue pressed into his cheek as he glared at the phone.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Peña.” Lance countered. “You make her happy and frankly that’s all I care about. You two have a good rest of your day.” 

“Thanks for calling, Lance. I’ll pass your information along to Vickers.” You offered as you stepped towards the phone to hang up. “It’s not like we should be surprised that the DEA is already trying to damage control.” 

Javier gave you a look, his lips drawn thin. “So you keep in touch with Lance?”

You rolled your eyes, “You are ridiculous. You should be thanking me for keeping in touch with him. Otherwise we wouldn’t know what the DEA is up to right now.” You approached him, poking him in the chest. “Once again, I prove to be a better agent than you.” 

“And how’s that?” He questioned, curling his hand around your hip as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. 

“I keep people close,” You answered, resting a hand on his shoulder. “People who someone might be able to turn against me. I keep that relationship — no matter how badly it ended — in good condition. The old adage is ‘an enemy of my enemy, is my friend’ and I try to keep that from being used against me.” 

“Is that why you went to coffee with Elena?” 

You shrugged, “I always liked Elena.” 

“Me too.” He admitted, “She let me talk about you.” 

You made a face, “Pretty sure I talked about you to Lance and neither of us knew why.” You reached down and took both of his hands into yours, interlacing your fingers before bringing them to your lips. You pressed a kiss to each knuckle. “We knew this wasn’t going to be easy. Look what the DEA did just because of a FOIA.” 

“Yeah.” Javier sighed heavily, clicking his tongue against his teeth. “I’ll fucking tear that entire institution down if they try to hurt you for this. I’ll burn it all to the ground.” 

“Oh, arson.” You pursed your lips, giving him an appraising look. “I hadn’t taken you for an arsonist.” 

Javier snorted, tracing his tongue over the edges of his teeth, “DEA deserves to burn. And I’ll use the embers to keep you warm, baby.” 

“I’ll get the matches.” You smirked, tracing your fingertip down the length of his nose, before you tilted your chin and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. 

[letaliabane]

Learning to Cope

summary: You’ve been left behind for months from raids, but when you lose your best friend, Javier is there as a shoulder to lean on. 

warnings: takes place in season 3, death of a character, angsty angst, fluffy fluff

prompts (If you would like to request a prompt, please include the name of the list and the number of the prompts)

You groaned as you climbed the stairs of the apartment building, undoing the first few buttons of your blouse. Pressing the key into the lock, you jostled the doorknob. Again, and again, again, before shoving it roughly with your shoulder, sending it flying against the wall. 

You chucked you’re back across the dining table, watching it disappear over the edge as your jacket followed suit before grabbing the bottle that sat vacant in your fridge. 

What a rollercoaster of emotions it had been, a day that continued to only get worse and worse as it went by. First having to put up with the behaviour of the other officers, left behind by Javier under his own orders, only to find out hours later that one of you dearest friends, Eloise, who also was another agent, had been shot. 

You and Eloise had trained together and become great friends during your academy days, and though she was a couple of years older than you, you looked towards her as your mentor. 

As you threw yourself on the couch, taking a long sip swig of the sweet wine, you couldn’t help but recount the events of the past couple of hours that had passed.

You threw your files across the table as Eloise followed you to your desk, throwing yourself in your seat with a huff. ‘Every fucking time El, I always offer up the best intel and yet I never get to go out on the field because Peña is being a douche bag!’

Eloise sighed, giving your shoulder a squeeze, ‘I know how frustrating it can be Y/N, but trust me, when the time comes you’ll know why its best to sit out on the first couple of go arounds.’

‘I’ve had the training though, you know how good I was then-’

‘But thats different,’ Eloise says gently, ‘it doesn’t matter about the training, trust me Y/N. There’s more to it than what they teach us. You’ll understand when the time comes for you to go out on the field.‘

Before you could reply, Javier walked past, looking between the two of you before nodding at Eloise, ‘Don’t be too long agent, we’ll be leaving with or without you. We’ve gotta get moving now if we wanna grab this guy and get him to speak.’ 

When she had nodded, he glanced towards you, noticing the disdain on your face. He wanted to say more, even an apology. But instead, he gave you a curt nod before leaving the office. You rolled your eyes. 

‘And they said he was a ladies man,’ You muttered.

‘Y/N!’ Eloise burst into giggling, looking around at the other workers who paid them no attention. 

‘What?! I’m just saying he treats me like chopped liver than any other woman in this agency! Could be at least a little decent in making small talk with me ...’ 

‘Sounds like someones got the hots for the big boss.’ 

‘Oh shut it you,’ You said as she raised her eyebrow towards you, giggling at your outburst before grabbing her gun from her drawer. 

‘I’ve gotta head out, but I promise drinks are on me when I get back okay?’ 

You waved your hand towards her vacantly, only for her to plant a kiss to your cheek, laughing as you squirmed, slapping her face away. 

‘Be safe okay?’ She saluted you with a large smile as you called after her before she left the office, her laughter still echoing in the corridor. 

It wasn’t even an hour later when the high shrill tone of the phone ringing echoed throughout the office from your desk, where you sat head deep in files. You sighed, dropping the papers before pressing the phone to your ear, 

‘Y/L/N.‘

‘Y/N thank god you answered, you need to get down to the hospital right now as fast as you can, Eloise was shot and—’ 

‘Whoa whoa whoa, what’s going on Chris? What happened to Eloise?’ You asked, concerned at his rushed and panicked tone of voice, barely registering the scramble of his words. 

‘Eloise was shot during the raid. S-Someone snuck up on her an-and she’s not doing too well. Were at the hospital and—’

‘I’m on the way,’ You concluded, slamming the phone down before grabbing your keys, pushing past the other workers as you ran to your car. 

After rushing through the streets and barely crashing, you ran through the hallways of the hospital, skidding to a halt when you sighted Chris, hunched over in a chair. He stood to his feet at the sight of you. 

‘Y/N—’

‘Where is she?’ 

‘In there, but Y/N—’

You made your way to the room he had pointed to before he could finish, pushing the door open, only to freeze. 

Eloise lay unmoving, terribly pale beneath the bright fluorescent lights. But your eyes were glued to the bloody wound that Eloise had sustained at her side, skin ruptured and torn, her blood staining the pristine sheets of the bed. A nurse stood over her body, letting out a horrified gasp, glaring as she shouted at me in Spanish.

‘I tried Y/N’s phone, she’s not answering—’ You barely heard Javier through the chaos of the nurse screaming, Chris trying to calm her down and talk with her in his bare knowledge of the language. 

Javier froze as he heard the outbreak of shouting, his eyes instantly falling upon you. Quickly, he gently spoke to the nurse, calming her down before turning his attention to you, carefully grabbing your hand, ‘Come on Y/N.’ 

Without waiting for your answer, he guided you out of the room, helping you into a chair. Once he knew you were comfortable, he dragged Chris a few feet a way, ‘Goddamit Fiestl what are you doing?! What were you trying to achieve by showing her that?!’ 

‘She wanted to see her but I didn’t‘—’

‘You really wanted her to see the dead body of her best friend when she hasn’t even been out—’

‘What?’ The men turned to you at your whimper, watching as you stood to your feet, glancing between them and the door that was now closed to the room where your best friend laid. 

Javier glanced at Chris as he muttered, ‘I didn’t get to tell her.’ 

He sighed, slowly making his way over to you, ‘Y/N, I’m so sorry. She passed just before you arrived. She lost too much blood in the ambulance and went into cardiac arrest before they could operate.’ 

You couldn’t help but gasp, looking back towards the room, the image of your best friend’s body, wounded and in tatters smearing your mind, how the blood oozed and dribbled down the sheets.

 Javier watched sadly as your face fell, reaching out towards you. However, he flinched when you suddenly slapped his hand away. 

‘This is both your faults.’ 

‘What?!’ Chris exclaimed as you back away from them, shaking your head. 

‘If you had let me come, none of this would’ve happened! My best friend wouldn’t be dead!’ Your cry echoed down the corridor, people turning towards the scene, making your insides twist. Without another word, you started back down the corridor. 

Before Chris could even take a step after you, Javier pushed him back, shaking his head, ‘Let her go Fiestl, She needs to be alone right now.’ 

You were beginning to doze off when a series of knocks echoed through your apartment. Dazed and tipsy, bottle still in hand, you stumbled towards the door, throwing it open. A groan left your lips at the sight of Javier, missing the worry that was written in his face as he took in your drunken state. 

‘Oh look who it is! Agent fucking Peña to the rescue!’ You cried, not waiting for him to reply before turning back into the apartment, leaving him to follow you. 

He watched as you leant against the kitchen counter, thumb tracing the rim of the wine bottle, eyes cloudy and far off. 

‘You look like shit don’t you?’ 

‘Fuck off Peña,’ You spat. 

He couldn’t help himself but chuckle, ignoring the glare you sent him, ‘Your fucking taking it out on me?’ 

‘You let her die!’ You seethed as you turned towards him, ‘If you hadn’t left me behind we could’ve at least had a chance at saving her—’

‘And lost you too?’ Javier cut off, now staring you down, ‘Y/N you’ve never been out in the field—’

‘Because you and every other motherfucker won’t let me!’ You screamed, ‘I could’ve at least helped her, she was my best friend! I could’ve at least been with her in that moment! I could’ve tried to save her! We could’ve had a chance at keeping her alive!’ 

Javier could feel the anger and hurt radiating from you, your pained eyes wide and wet with tears, hands balled into fists at your sides. But it was more than that, he could tell. 

He reached for your hand, but you slapped it away once again, shakily pointing a finger in his face, ‘Don’t you fucking dare.’ 

But this time, he persisted. Ignoring your cries he pulled you towards him, allowing you to push and shove at him, slamming your fists hard against his chest, ignoring the curses that flew from your mouth. He held you through it. 

And he still held you when you slackened against his chest, gripping his shirt as you cried into his shoulder, knees buckling beneath you. Javier caught you, helping you to the ground where he cradled you, leaving no room between you as he leant against the back of the couch, holding you. 

When your sobs had softened, and your breathing had evened out, you felt his fingertips running through your hair soothingly. 

He finally spoke, ‘You are a very intelligent person Y/N, and I know you have a big heart and would do anything to help your friends and colleagues. But I know if you had been allowed to out into that gunfight today unprepared, you would’ve gotten injured or worse and I-I would never have been able to live with myself if I saw you go through that.’ 

You barely pulled away from him, looking up towards him. He was a jackass, you knew that, but you could tell he was sincere with his words, telling the truth. 

Looking away, you reached for his hand, entangling your fingertips with his, running your thumb across his knuckles. With a sigh, you looked back up to find him watching you. 

‘Does it get easier? The pain?’ You croaked. You felt him tense up against you, his grip tightening on your hand momentarily before replying, ‘You learn to cope and live with it. However I learnt later than sooner ... you should never hide your pain from the ones you care for.’

You watched him for a moment, giving him a small smile before nodding. With a gentle tug you allowed him to pull you against his chest once more, hands still intertwined, his other rubbing your back. 

Masterlist | Pedro Pascal Masterlist

Tagged: @pascalisthepunkest​

A/N: This was a bit of a random idea I had, especially after looking at some stills I took from S3. Not sure if people will like this but thought I’d share it. Will get back to finishing requests now! Also masterlist has finally been updated so make sure to check that out when you can! As you can also see I had NO IDEA what to call this. 

Remember requests are open for Pedro Pascal characters! Check it out and request whatever you like!

[skysailor90]

La Sombra y Su Sol

Summary: This is a concept I’m playing with. I’m  a HUGE Pedro Pascal fan and I love his character Javier Pena from Narcos. I thought it would be fun to play with the idea of a female led cartel that Pena has to investigate and ultimately takedown. This is my FIRST attempt at any kind of creative writing so constructive criticism is welcomed! I hope you at least enjoy the read!

Word Count: Little over 2,500 (whoops)

Warnings: Soft drug reference, language, sexual reference...

                                             Worlds Apart

7:16PM: Peña  

It was a long fucking day. After an even longer fucking week. Being promoted to the lead DEA Agent on this new case was the last thing he wanted. Javier Peña had not recovered from the last time he led a major case, and he had a feeling that this was one going to come with strings. Strings he was not willing to be manipulated by again. This week only confirmed his suspicions. He needed to figure out a way out of this before things got too carried away again. He finished his last cigarette as he pondered a way out of this when he heard a knock at his door. 

“Hey boss, Dan and I are going down the street for a drink. You in?” Peña looked up from his distracted gaze to see Fiestl hanging by the door looking beat. Luckily, Peña was able to assemble his team. He instantly brought on the two guys that helped him bring down the Cali Cartel. Dan Van Ness and Chris Fiestl were good guys. Guys he could trust. Trust was hard to come by in this business. Before he could politely turn down the invitation, Fiestl argued his case. 

“You know you need something after this week. We all do.” He shared and Peña  couldn’t lie to him. Despite feeling exhausted he knew he would not be able to sleep. Too much to work through. Too many doubts that would surely keep him up. 

“Sure. I’ll meet you guys there. Need to finish up a couple of things here.” He replied and Chris exited the doorway walking down the hall. Peña  waited until he was all the way down the hall. He sat back taking another cigarette from his suit pocket and lighting it taking a deep inhale. He leaned back in his chair exhaling. He needed to sit there a little bit longer before putting on a brave face for those guys. He couldn’t let them see that he was already contemplating leaving them high and dry for their own good. 

8:20PM: Sombra

I had been sitting in my car for about 10 minutes before I decided to walk in and wait for him. I would be lying if I wasn’t excited about tonight. I rarely put myself in such risky situations. It was a life saving practice for the leader of the fastest growing cartel anyone had ever seen. The greatest gift to my success was the anonymity I had so carefully created for myself. Although, I understood that this recklessness was putting so many things in jeopardy I had to meet him in person. It was almost like a predator stalking his prey. I needed to understand what I was up against to succeed where others hadn’t. DEA legend Agent Javier Peña  was a formidable opponent. One I had not had in some time and it sounded like the perfect opportunity to have a little fun. 

You see, I have always been a survivor. Growing up in an orphanage and jumping from foster home to foster home, it was all I knew. It might have felt lonely at first, but just as they say you get used to anything if you give it enough time. By the time I met Emilio, I had settled on the idea that company was for a purpose. For advancing something in your life otherwise it wasn’t worth the compromise. He was my safety. Being attached to a drug lord came with risks, but I wasn’t afraid of taking risks because I know that you have to take risks to achieve greatness. I admit I was still naïve. I was after all only 22 years old when this 38 year old drug lord swept me off my feet. He was charming, but mostly he was powerful and I saw potential in this power. Little did I know just how much that power would shape my future over the course of almost a decade. 

My intel informed me that Peña  and his men frequented this bar. His team of two other male DEA Agents  Daniel Van Ness and Chris Fiestl, were his small but effective team. I waited down the street having a hunch I would get an opportunity to see what I was up against. I saw Ness and Fiestl walk in shortly after I parked. They looked exhausted, and I smiled as I felt that this might be the perfect time to gather my own intel. I sat back a bit longer waiting to see if Peña  joined them. As I waited I  recalled the file I read on Peña  . DEA’s Golden Boy for some time. He was integral to the take down of Pablo Escobar and later led a tactical team that took down the Cali Cartel. Digging a little further, Peña  compromised a lot of his so-called “integrity” by working with Los Pepes. This resulted in an innumerable amount of deaths. It was a massacre and based on his involvement in that, he must have not left Columbia the same man. He later led a team with Fiestl and Ness to take down the Cali Cartel. It is my understanding that things also got messy there. However, in each he was successful in breaking an empire enough that a shift in power was forced to take place. This left a struggle for power for some time. Emilio was a small player but biding his time. Until, it became my time. 

I glanced at the door and saw Peña  walking into the bar. He paused to smoke a cigarette before entering the bar. Interesting. My curiosity got the best of me. I quickly called Julio, my right hand and head of security, and informed him that I would not be needing him for the rest of the evening. He paused but he knew better than to question me. 

“Claro, señora.” He responded and I know he hated this but I felt like this was going to be a lot easier than I originally thought. Plus, I knew how to take care of myself if need be. It was time to test how effective my other intel was. I quickly primped myself in the mirror before exiting my car and headed towards the bar. I got butterflies as I got closer. The hunt begins. 

  8:33PM: Peña  

Javi entered the bar and immediately saw Ness and Fiestl at their normal table. They were in the middle of laughing when he pulled up a chair. 

“Guys, what did I miss?” Javi asked as he took a seat and waved at the bartender to bring him his usual. 

“How did you survive Wednesday’s debriefing?” Ness asked. 

“It was brutal. Wasn’t it, Javi?” Fiestl asked. Javi let out a sigh as a double whiskey neat was placed in front of him. 

“I tried to imagine I wasn’t there. That I was anywhere else really but there.” Javi responded. Javi had decided it was all a waste of time.  A lot of nothing but you would swear that the intel they had was a godsend. It was all bullshit. It had zero backing and also was missing so many aspects of this case. So many things didn’t line up. So many names from unreliable sources. But he was instructed to chase down every lead he was given, and that already was suspicious. 

“Well, all I know is that we are getting fucked already.” Ness said half amused, half genuinely frustrated. They all nodded in agreement and drank. Javi saw Ness and Fiestl look up at something behind him.

“Speaking of getting fucked.” Ness said and Fiestl nearly spit out his beer. Javi glanced subtly behind his shoulder to see a woman walk into the bar. Not just a woman. A gorgeous being that made Javi understand Ness’s reaction. 

“Fuck.” Javi muttered quietly under his breath. 

Javi had never seen her in here before. He would remember seeing her before tonight. She was dressed in a figuring hugging dress that perfectly accentuated her curves. Her curves mirrored an hourglass. However she almost seemed to be trying to hide those curves with an oversized black jacket that clearly did not belong to her. She wore thigh high boots and had long dark curly hair that made Javi yearn to pull on while he did awful things to her. She seemed irritated though. She made her way directly to the bar and sat alone ordering some kind of drink. Javi thought she seemed out of place, but he also saw an opportunity for a fun distraction. As he imagined himself approaching her, he could hear Ness and Fiestl negotiating who would approach her first. Without saying a word to them, Javi stood up and began walking over to the bar. Fiestl and Ness fell silent realizing that Javi wasn’t one to wait his turn. 

Javi approached the bar and stood a couple of seats down from the woman. She was downing the last of her drink and waving to the bartender requesting another. 

“Rough day, huh?” Javi said more out loud than directly to her. She turned to him and Javi got a good look at her. Her dark chestnut hair made her big light brown eyes really stand out. Her piercing gaze took him off guard. It was like she could see right through everything. Her lips pressed into a small smile. Those soft pink plump lips. Javi imagined how it would feel to have those lips wrapped around his cock. 

“You could say that.” She responded before reaching for her next drink. He could tell she wasn’t seeking company but she also didn’t seem to push him away. He took a chance and moved in a little closer. She glanced at him, but did not object. Javi took this as an indifferent invitation. 

“I’m told I’m a good listener.” Javi said, sitting right next to her.  She looked at him again. Her eyes trying to read him and looking for something, but Javi remained cool under her gaze. 

“Well, I usually don’t air my dirty laundry to strangers.” She said. Javi could tell she was fishing for some reassurance. 

“That’s a good rule. I’m Javier Peña .” Javi extended his hand out to shake hers. She shook his hand using a firm but polite grip. 

“Sofia. Nice to meet you Mr. Peña.” She replied. They both held on to each other’s hands for a second longer than necessary but that didn’t seem to bother either one of them. 

“So will your pals be joining us?” Sofia asked as she nodded in the direction to Ness and Fiestl who were caught staring at them from their table. Javi shook his head amused but slightly embarrassed at their gawking display. 

“Oh, those guys? Yeah, I’ve never seen them before in my life.” Javi coyly replied and Sofia smiled in return. Javi asked the bartender for another round and took a sip of his new drink. 

“ So, about that rough day?” Javi asked before taking another sip. He turned to see Sofia once again staring but this time he could see she was processing. He could almost see the wheels turning in her mind looking back at him through her soft brown eyes. He opted to remain silent but didn’t break eye contact allowing her to make her assessment. Javi was curious to see exactly what she saw. 

“Well, Mr. Peña ,” Sofia started and Javi corrected her. 

“Javi, please.” he politely insisted. 

“Right.” Sofia started again and continued.

 “Well Javi, I got stood up tonight.” Sofia answered more annoyed than embarrassed. Javi couldn't fathom who in his right mind would do such a thing to this captivating woman. 

“Bullshit.” Javi spurted out before taking another sip of his drink. Sofia laughed, almost spitting up her drink and Javi couldn't help but smile and feel even more drawn to her. 

“Bullshit? You think I’m lying?” Sofia playfully retorted. 

“Excuse the vulgar language, but you’re full of shit. Was this guy blind or something?” Javi asked, attempting to make his argument. 

“Well, it was a blind date. A mutual friend thought we would hit it off.” Sofia finished the last of her drink before signaling for another round. Javi waved at the bartender and gestured to put her next drink on his tab.

“Oh, that's not necessary. I don’t really need a pity drink.” Sofia tried to object to Javi’s offer, but he stopped her. 

“Not a pity drink, carino. Just trying to buy a beautiful woman a drink she rightfully needs.” Javi explained and Sofia nodded both granting permission and thanking him. The bartender served a fresh round and Sofia took a sip before providing context. 

“Yeah, I mean she meant well, and he sounded decent, but a girl can only wait so long alone at a table clearly meant for two for before sacrificing too much of her dignity.” Sofia took another small sip and turned to Javi. 

“Well, in that case, I say this is a celebratory drink.” Javi raised his glass and nodded encouraging her to do the same. Sofia raised her glass. They met eyes and stayed locked in for a few seconds before Sofia interrupted. 

“And, what are we celebrating, Javi?” Sofia asked but sipped from her glass nonetheless. Javi also took a small sip before responding. 

“Someone’s massive mistake brought you here and now here I am, sitting easily with the most beautiful woman in this place. And now I get to enjoy your wonderful company.” Javi gave her his devilish grin and she held his gaze. It became too unnerving and he reached for his drink. 

“I’m not sure you will feel very lucky later.” Sofia responded. Javi quickly replied.

“I’ll take my chances. Something tells me I won’t regret it.” Javi gave a sly grin and Sofia smiled. 

“I respect your forwardness and the slight arrogant undertone.” Sofia replied. 

“But I need more than a  smug smile and air of confidence to be convinced, Mr. Peña .” Sofia countered before taking the last sip of her drink. Javi couldn’t help but feel like he had met his match. Someone complex enough to  distract his mind while provoking his dark desires. Javi finished his drink before making his offer. 

“Well I’m sure given the opportunity, I can be very convincing.” He smiled and sat back in his seat, awaiting the wheels in her head to start turning. Sure enough, he saw them again. Her contemplation. She was conflicted, and he felt like it was enough for her to be convinced. She rose from her seat and leaned in to whisper into his ear. 

“Outside. Five minutes. Then we will see how convincing you can be.” Sofia gently rubbed her cheek against Javi before turning and walking towards the restroom. Javi watched her walk away left stunned by how this night progressed. He gestured for the check and closed out both their tabs. Whatever came next, he was ready. He quickly signed the check and made his way to the front door. He turned briefly to look back at Ness and Fiestl who were already watching him walk away. Javi shrugged and gave  them a nod. Better luck next time.

[jolapeno]

ii. coffee + fruit

javier peña x dea! f!reader | chapter two of nowhere to run

Summary: Determined to do it better this time, Javier Peña returns to Bogotá to take down the Cali Cartel. With a new promotion, office and team, what he doesn’t expect is the pretty thing outside his office—or why they’re not allowed in the field. chapter warnings: season three narcos spoilers, no use of y/n, mild use of a codename for story purposes. wordcount: 5.5k an: as always, a huge thank you to @guyfieriii who talks me down from panic, and @yeyinde who listens to my insane plans

He finds that spot on his forehead, thumb and index digging—massaging into his skin and bone. The edges of himself, frayed, stressed—teased to the point they could almost pull away and crumble as he walked past your desk.

It’s empty. The half-drunk coffee still there. 

You’ve not been there for a while. Not since earlier, when he should have looked away at the sound of raised voices, instead of honing in on them. Something wrapping around his insides—

“You got a minute, sir?”

He listens, even if he doesn’t. He hears the important parts: Miami, Cornerstone. He also hears the noticeable slap of the file on the rest of his files—the ones with your post-its and notes all over. 

“What’s this?”

“A shitty diagram.”

He stares—feels himself glaring. Ridding it, hopefully before the agent can even notice it. A reaction he blames on a headache, even if he knows it has more to do with earlier. 

“What’s your name?”

“Fiestl.” 

Javi chews it. Staring up and down at him. 

“Chris Feistl.”

He smirks at the rest of his speech. That same gnawing feeling rising inside of him, half-hoping the man in front of him isn’t the reason you’ve been hiding, but heavily suspecting he is. 

Javi likes shooting him down, he realises, when he watches that same kicked-puppy face stretch across the man’s features—the same way it did when you muttered whatever you did under your breath. 

It’s only as he crosses the office, hoping to rid him—when his eyes land on you through the blinds. Thankful you’ve made another appearance, looking somewhat more you than you had done earlier. Coffee firmly in hand—chewing the inside of his cheek. Relaxing him—having not needed to go find you. 

“Nice office by the way.”

He snorts. Realising quickly how fucked he was. “Thanks.” 

Yellowing light woke you as it bled through the open window.

The scent of him still clings to your skin. All Marlboro smoke and ambery wood, blended with the sultry scent of whiskey and something you suspect is just him. 

It was easier to leave. 

To watch his eyelids grow heavy, sliding from under his arm and dressing in the silence of his government-issued apartment. You’d thought about staying, about the morning when he’d wake and likely feast on you for breakfast. How good it would feel, how good he is. 

You’re not young and impressionable. Good sex is good sex, not an invitation to begin manifesting and dreaming about a life together taking down narcos. 

So, it was easier to leave. 

To burst the fantasy before it could begin growing, amassing into something which would involve hurt feelings from either side. 

You do this a lot?  Fuck my boss? No. Have you seen Stechner? I just m— Don’t lie to me, Peña. It’s beneath you. 

You weren't quite sure what to classify last night as, but guilt began to peck at you, all the same. It made you consider things. Turning them over in your mind under the low pressure of the shower…

Maybe you should have left a note. Something. Anything. 

Although, when it boils down, you’re not entirely sure what the appropriate messaging even would be. Never having needed to do it before. Maybe it never happened to him either. 

He struck you as a man who did the leaving over being the one who was left. It crossed your mind, only then, that maybe he wouldn’t take kindly to being greeted by cold, undisturbed nothing. 

From what you knew—outside of the rumours and the intern—he didn’t tend to fuck his colleagues. That thin line is the one he drew. Javier Peña didn’t like to shit where he eats. The thin line, though, has been erased, kicked away until dust covers it. 

Your soap slowly rids you of his scent, his touch—leaving only the blossoming-welcome bruises and the soreness. The only thought which began to appease you as you turned the water off, is that judging him or not, he didn’t appear to have a reputation that screamed he’d ever left a note himself. That and the fact you owed him nothing except professionalism. 

You’re late. 

Not late for the start of your shift, but when you’re usually in. People have come to expect you around sunrise. Not today. Today, you’re greeted by some of the agents beneath you, their smirks being the evidence of your unexpected time in. The gossip already likely fluttering around, half-expecting the whispers to chirp before you’ve even removed your coat. 

If you were a man, it wouldn’t happen. 

They wouldn’t bat an eyelid if Peña walked in draped in two women. It was a thing reserved for women. The shame-guilt. The whispers behind your back, trying to act as though by doing it in a low voice, they’re doing you a favour by keeping back what a whore they think you are. 

Because usually, you’re the one to turn the fluorescent lights on. The only one making noise in the large expanse. But, there’s already chatter when you throw your bag in your drawer. Your phone is already ringing before you’ve even made a coffee.

It is distracting. It smothers wandering thoughts and any chance at regret. It’s only when you’re making your final note for him, all set to sit down ready to consume the coffee when you see him. 

And time slows. 

Everything around the two of you almost stops as you let yourself take him in. Meet those same eyes which had almost cut your clothes off last night. He doesn’t look embarrassed or regretful, but sorrowful. No spark in his eyes, no twitch of his lips—two things you’d been washed in by the time you reached his place last night. 

You should tear your eyes away as he nods at someone and heads in your direction. You should stand up, hand him the notes and a coffee—unsure why you’ve even stopped to stare. 

Your legs have other ideas, already carrying you to him. Watching him trace his eyes up and down you like he didn’t have his fill of that last night. Acting normal, no smirk, no blush of his cheeks, as though he didn’t have his tongue, cock and fingers inside of you hours ago.  

You should be happy. Grateful. 

It isn’t as though you like mess or complications. It had churned inside of you on the drive in, hands wrapping around the steering wheel, unsure if you’d made things difficult. If you’d blurred the complicated lines before they’d even really been laid out. 

You take his wrist, lifting it as you coax his hand around the mug, looping his fingers around the warmth. His touch sends sparks up your skin, along your fingers, and forearms all the way to your chest. Ones you have to ignore. Ones you pretend aren’t there. 

Because he’s like fire. He burns, but you welcome it. 

Like you did last night, over and over again. 

Your throat goes dry, watching as he brings the mug to his lip. Your mug. The one you hadn’t drank from and craved more than anything. 

“Morning.” 

It comes out normal, but it’s forced. Trying to banish any sound of indifference, hand grasping at some papers before you turn to walk alongside him, matching his strides. 

“You have a meeting in ten—which I’d do your top button-up for. There’s also a file on your desk, less important than the meeting, but more important than the phone calls you need to make.”

He looks good. 

Something you had noticed before sleeping with him—not able to help but acknowledge it, even if you hated it. But now, having seen him more undone, more walls torn back, it was hard not to look for longer. Linger. Let your eyes trail down from his eyes to the slope of his nose, to his lips— 

“Fuck. This is good—“

His eyes widened, taking another sip of the drink. 

Your hand tugs on his elbow to stop him, keeping close to him as you smile. “Look. Tell anyone, and I’ll cut you.” 

“About last ni—“

“No.”

It comes out like a squeak. Something which quickly warms your cheeks and ears, tugging your shirt into place, swallowing back further denial. 

“The coffee,” you continue, straightening your spine. “I don’t—I don’t care if you climbed a desk and told everyone I fucked you senseless last night. I do care if everyone knows I have a stash of good coffee.” Your head tilts behind you. “They’re feral—fucking… animals. For good casework and for good coffee.” 

For a second, he stares. Just stares. His mouth opened, before closing. 

He’s hard to read. Even when you know so much about him. Some things are easier, like the things he wears. The shame—the need to do right. Even if he blurs the lines, even if he gets lost along the way of finishing the task at hand. Other parts of him are harder, hidden behind thick walls of concrete you don’t expect to ever see past. 

And yet, it makes something bubble in you. Something you can’t place, but really hate.  

His hand twitches though. Not the one around the coffee, the one limply at his side. The only sign that your nonchalance is bothering him, his eyes attempting to claw through you the same you’re doing to him. 

“Drink up,” you say, licking your lips. “You’re gonna need it.”

“That bad, huh?”

“It’s with the Ambassador.”

“Shit.” 

Draining the mug, you take it from him, handing him the file in your hand. “Try to smile, Peña—you make it through this, I may be able to give you a bigger reason too.” 

“That so?” 

You smirk, and he has to know how warm your cheeks are. Must be able to feel the heat from them through the air as you avoid his eyes, hating the impact his words have. Two simple fucking words. 

It’s dangerous, the game you’re playing. 

Red lights flash, a warning tone sounding in some dull recess in your mind. 

“Yes,” you smile, with equal wickedness. “I’ll take some of your paperwork from you.” 

He rolls his jaw, smirking in return. 

“What?” you ask innocently. “Something else on your mind?” 

You wondered if he hoped. 

If he’d woken up and stretched his hand out to find you, to pull you close. From the small window into his life, he was insatiable. Good. Knowing exactly where too… 

Shaking your head, you smile. “Just so you know, I’m also good at things that don't involve me being naked.”

He doesn’t say anything. 

“Plus, I already saved your ass. I delivered the news and not Stoddard.” You stop at your desk, putting a distance between the two of you. “Well, I’ll be here if you need me.” 

He nods. 

Just nods. 

You’re a coward. 

Even if you’re not ashamed, even if you had been happy you went home with him. You still hid. Flipping between your desk and the file room.

The fact both Dan and Peña, plus Stoddard, had fucked with your filing had proven a blessing in disguise. Your hands itching to put it right all day, thankful whatever the meeting this morning was, it kept Peña behind glass. 

“Hey.”

You know the voice before your eyes land on the face. It's ingrained into you. A voice you used to love, but now makes your blood boil. Quickly, you try to rid the heat from your cheeks, lifting up to watch him—the former lover: the romance that ended in disaster. 

He wipes his mouth before he leans down on your desk. 

Even now, all you can think is Chris Feistl still has a cute smile. That and the fact you like the way strands of his hair fall over his face—just like they are now. A slight urge, the slightest need, to brush them from his face rose inside of you. 

In the same way, you had done before things got complicated, before when things were wonderful and lovely—before they went up in flames. 

You always wondered how hard it would be to get over a breakup when you were confronted with it every day. Having always been thankful your previous relationships ended as you were required to move, whether across the states or to a different country.  

It’s hard to ignore what you have learnt quickly. Difficult to rid everything, such as the mug on your desk that was a gift before anyone knew you were both a thing. Knowing that when you walk past him, he’s seen the lingerie you’re wearing under the clothes. That he’s the one you had originally bought them for—the one who peeled them off your skin while dinner bubbled messily in either one of your two’s kitchens. 

It hadn’t been him who ruined them the other night. 

That had been the man to the side of her—the one surrounded by glass and wooden blinds. The one you’re hiding from. 

“So… you good?”

Smirking, you put your pen down. “You walked over here to ask me if I’m good?”

He stares for a second, reconsidering his words. “You didn’t answer my call… last night.” 

You bite your tongue, leaning forward. Remembering. 

Recalling how you’d cancelled it at the bar, and again before you left the bar…with Peña. How his lips had ghosted over your neck as you dug your hand in your bag to silence it. Ignore it. His teeth grazing your—

“I know that you’re strong, but I also—“

“I’m fine, Chris.”

His silence is damning. The air is tightening as you stare, hoping he doesn’t push, silently hoping he doesn’t. The two of you having spared mess and more pain than needed. 

“You don’t have to lie to me. I know. I know that you’re not doing as well as you… like to let people believe.”

It’s instant, the way a cold chill spreads down your spine. Your lips straighten before the words meet your ears, knowing how this is all going to go. 

“I know you’re not eating, so I can only assume you’re not sleeping.”

Your body knows before your brain does—the hold on your chest tightening, pain spreading like ink across your heart, poisoning and squeezing.   

Him calling it out—the panic, the memories, the fucking nightmares. 

“Some of the guys said you were in late—“

“Will you keep your voice down?”

Your eyes cast to the side, finding narrowed brown eyes staring at you through the blinds. Ones which you hold for a second too long. 

Ones who seem to be assessing the situation quicker than he should.

Chris leans closer, likely so the whole office doesn’t begin its idle gossip again. It does that. 

Breathes and spreads ideals and rumours quicker than a virus spreads in a hospital. You can feel the eyes through the blinds now, the ones watching—studying, trying to understand the office dynamics and who knows who. 

“I just don’t want you to think you’re alone, no matter what’s happened—happening—between us—“

Standing, you place your palms flat on the desk. “—Stop. For the love of my sanity, please can you just stop, Fiestl.”—“

“I know you chose to end things but I still want—“

You shove him. Lightly. Two fingers at most, not even likely to bruise—but enough to make his words shrivel in his throat. Your eyes, burning holes into him.

“You know what, I was with someone,” you say, snappier, harsher than your previous words. “Last night.”

They hit the air like bullets. Piercing into him and the air. It washes over you both—your confirmation, your acknowledgement. They shatter the space between the two of you like glass. Watching as his eyes acknowledge your words, temporarily frozen before his jaw tightens and his teeth grit. 

You’d sympathise if he hadn’t pushed. It is the sole reason why you don't shift your expression, keeping it firm, and rigid. Feeling the pair of eyes in your back, the ones behind the open door—having likely heard every bit of his speech. 

“I told you to stop.”

He nods, reeling back, standing—running his hand through his impossibly thick hair as he forces a laugh. All half-hearted, weak, as though the air had been punched from his chest. “Yeah. Yeah, you did.” 

“I’m not your problem.” 

He frowns, tilting his head. “You’ll always be my problem. I—“

“Please, s-stop.” 

It’s less this time. It cracks out of you. Voice shaky, more tinged with threatening-to-spill tears. 

His words fade, vanishing—disappearing into the air without truly being spilt. So much more on the cusp of his tongue, but you stare until he swallows them. Watching him instead nod. 

It pricks at your heart. Hating how it makes the part of you which had already healed, throb. It hadn’t been easy, as much as you pretended it was. But, it was better to pretend than to acknowledge how car-crash-like their argument had been. How it began as one thing and ended as something neither of you both could come back from. 

Everything good having wilted when you’d gone to Cali, coming back to crumbling roots and sharp-edged memories. It had been wrong beforehand, tainted. But, it had worsened, leaving behind nothing but death and the ghosts of what once was. 

“I have work to do, so if you’re done...” 

“No, I’m d—“

“Good.”

You straighten fully,  moving past him as you head to the bathroom. Feet moving you around bodies and desks. Waiting for the inevitable.

Thankfully, it slams into you when you’re on the other side of the door.

The thread he’d unpicked with his words. I know that you’re not doing as well as you’d like people to believe. Feeling your throat tighten at the memories, how you bristled at the feel of the door on your spine. 

Seeing them—the cold, dark eyes. How even though you know they aren’t here, they’re staring at you as stones cut into your knees and weeds tried to wrap around your ankles. The sight—the blood. The crimson staining your hands, knees and soul as helplessness stole your facade, confidence and belief. 

It makes you weak. 

Makes you crumble from the inside, out all over again. 

Shifting to dust, turning to something opposite to the training you’d taken to be here and more of a shadow of someone you once knew. Something you know they’re waiting to see—the higher-ups. The ones who are desperate to be proved right. 

Then, when it’s raging through you, ripping apart the carefully placed threads and walls that keep you up straight, you’re flooded with grief. 

The nightmares that have bled into the moments you’re awake. Its grip on your chest tightens, restricting—hand grasping at the cold bathroom counter as you will yourself to snap out of it. Shakily turning on the tap until cold water slams into your skin—

It lessens. 

Looking up, meeting the mirror, seeing only thick tears that have carved into your cheeks. Sweat pebbling at your brow, your mouth taking in copious breaths as you slowly find you can stand straight. 

Shame vibrates in your bones. That and tiredness.

You've spent the better part of your day darting through an array of emotions—all of which had given you whiplash—and made it hard to smile.  

You had taken a while to resurface from the file room, awkwardly holding a mug up to Peña through the blinds once again—noting how the office had emptied.

It’s nice, the silence. The lack of ringing from phones, fingers on keyboards and low-murmured chatter. It’s even nicer seeing the glow the setting sun casts over the place, casting shadows. Not needing to glance at the clock, you know the hour is late. Is time to be going home, even if you’ve stayed far later than this on so many occasions. 

You have to show him you’re okay, even if you’re not. 

Even if you’re barely held together by the threads you usually are. 

The aftershocks of your panic ebbing through you. Small little wobbles and pricks to your eyes, followed by a slight gasp as breath is lost. Worsened by your anger when the news hit the office. 

That once again a mission went sideways. That two more agents were going home—and that someone they put in a position to lose something, happened again. Under it all, like the low hum of a song from a distant radio, you thought of Cali.

You’re used to them, the thoughts, the panic—having slowly become the norm. Yet, they’re rarely here, rarely ever embedding into your day—they normally wait until you’re in your car or at home. Appearing like ghosts when you’re alone, when there’s very little to distract you. 

On another day, you’d likely have handled it better. But, Chris had done a number on you. He had bruised you, in some ways. Knocked you off your confidence and thinly-veiled pedestal you climbed up onto to appear like the same agent the rest of the office knew before you came back.

You don’t have to pretend with him, though. It’s why you stayed in the bar longer than you should have. Why you didn’t bat his palm away from your knee and why you traced little shapes with your nail against the back of his hand. 

Peña didn’t know you. Likely didn’t care too—not that you want him to. 

Feelings are messy. A tangle of things that would worsen as and when you were sent home. If you grew too attached it would hurt when the inevitable crashed down; if you remained distant, it would lead to awkwardness and more office dramatics. Neither of which you wanted—having already ticked both of those of yourself not that long ago. 

Your eyes catch Van Ness and Chris’s new desks, the ones they’d moved into before the seats of the other agents were even cold. 

It pecked at you, the day. It wove under your carefully constructed armour and threatened to showcase who you were—a fragile, half-broken soul haunting a place you used to run. The thought niggled, swirling, capturing other feelings in its wake until it grew larger and larger. 

Blinking, you stared as the pot brewed. Finding it all of a sudden hard not to acknowledge that the first time you’d stopped thinking—outside of drinking and the few hours of sleep you were given—was when you were with him. That he had fully engrossed you, not allowing you to sink off to any recess or corner to drag up old demons and shadows to ruin what it was. 

You place the coffee down in the centre of his desk. Taking a while to drag your eyes from the steam spiralling up into the air, watching it softly before it’s lost to the air. Each silvery twirl captures your attention until all you see is caramel chestnut. 

Then you see the rest of him, trying not to let your mouth drop open at the sight of him. 

He’s removed his jacket since you’d asked him if he wants a coffee, his hair far more tousled—likely from pulling at it, something you’ve seen him do all too often. The cause for the dryness in your throat is the sight of his top two buttons undone. His tie loosely hanging, his finger probably having stuck in the knot and yanked it down. 

It almost cracks you. Makes you almost forget how to breathe, stomach tightening—wanting to spread through you as it reminds you of last night—his phantom touch spreading across your hips. Even if he’s safely behind his desk, not touching, breath not dancing across your jaw. 

“Everyone else has gone.”

His hand gestures to the chair opposite his desk, one you know you shouldn’t sit in—should head back to the file room or go home before the stars come out. But you sit, slowly too.

It would be a lie to say you hadn’t noticed the same thing countless women did. The angle of his jaw, the way his eyes hold yours, as if you’re the only source of light in a room. You’d just hoped to be better than the other women, able to snap out of it—keep a respectable distance. 

“They do that. Go home at the end of their shift.” 

He snorts. “Not you, though.” 

“Not you either, Sir.” 

Watching it land, that three-letter word is like a shot of caffeine to the veins. It makes his jaw shift, his eyes try to inconspicuously drag along your frame. 

“Look, it’s likely not any of my business, but…” you look at him, watching him play with the ends of his tie as he meets your eyes. “I didn’t ask earlier, you alright? Looked heavy—the conversation with—” 

The lump appears before you can stop it. Before you can think about willing it away, it shifts at the last second. 

“Fiestl. Which, I suspect you already know his name,” you smirk, crossing your leg over the other, “But yeah, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

The most honest you could be. Your half-smile meeting his, hoping it soothes him—settles him. 

“You two date, or something?” 

It surprises you, somehow. Prickles at you, makes you sharpen and straighten your spine. “You jealous or something?” 

“No.” 

He says it too quickly. Only realising his mistake a second too late, the same regret you felt at instantly snapping at him. 

Clearing your throat. “Sorry… I just, we did, yes.” 

He nods, and the way he leans his head back in acknowledgement makes you notice how drained he looks, how withdrawn—how sunken. 

“This your coffee or the offices?”

Twitching your lips, you relax again. “Try it and find out.”

His eyes narrow, his lips shifting across the front of his teeth as he offers that slow smirk-smile he does. The one he did so much last night, once whiskey had loosened him and humour had let the weight from his shoulders lessen. 

“How’s your bad day?” 

He half-smiles with a snort, hand swiping over his jaw as he sighs. 

Because you know how hellish it has been. You’d seen it, heard it—watched it ripple across the office. 

Clearing your throat, leaning back against the chair, you tilt your head. “No one’s going to blame you for Duffy and Lopez. For one, Duffy is real a dick.” 

Folding his arms, he mirrors you. Leaning back, not even moving for the coffee. “You know the right words to make me smile, cariño.”

Smiling, you look down. Needing too. It almost catches you off guard: cariño. Makes your tongue heavy—forcing your thighs to push together as your mouth drops open. Dawning on you that this must be how ‘sir’ makes him feel. 

Then, like rain on a beautiful warm day, you begin remembering why you left this morning—why you’d told yourself it was the best thing, and yet here you were undoing it. 

The air puckers, ruffles and wrinkles as no words are spoken. The steam from the coffee continues to swirl, performing a dance neither of you are paying attention to. His eyes are on you, and you’re firmly on the spot on the floor, warming under his gaze—wishing you knew what he was thinking, and yet wishing you didn’t know him at all. 

“I left because whatever… last night was, it wasn't serious.” 

Flicking your eyes up, you expect contempt. Instead, you see understanding.

You see softness, shame—but you suspect not because of the act itself, but rather because he understood. 

“Because you know so much about me or?” 

Your watch as his forehead creases, waiting expectedly for your response. His fingers run across his jaw as he stares, more in waiting than anything else. Your eyes staring at his index finger, remembering—recalling. 

“Because I’m really not that person, Peña. I know people say that, and they usually don’t mean it. But, I didn’t expect coffee and a piece of fruit this morning. And I really couldn’t stand the idea of having an awkward morning conversation when we’re both naked and wondering if the other regrets it. Which I don’t, by the way—regret it.” 

He slowly takes the coffee, fingers wrapping around the white porcelain, a stark contrast in size as he keeps his eyes on you. Assessing you, trying to peel back layers and uncover things. 

You’re smarter. You’ve had to be. 

Already hard enough fighting amongst other agents for a shot, never mind the fact that so very few of you make it to Bogotá—least of all women. 

Throwing up walls, you quickly hide the complexities that make you nervous, the things which keep your adrenaline heightened and your nightmares prickling close to daydreams.  

“I wouldn’t.” 

“What?” 

“Keep looking for a secondary reason for why I left you in bed,” you say with a knowing smirk. “There isn’t one. I just prefer my own bed.”

Smirking, he brings the cup to his lips, pausing as he stares over it and through the swirls. “Guess next time it’s your place then.”

You have to laugh, to hide the heat in your cheeks. “Cute, Peña. Real cute.” 

He takes another sip, a larger one—rich flavours of herbs, nuts and chocolate flooding his tongue. “Fuck, tastes good.”

It’s a bad idea.

That’s what you think. What instantly follows behind the other thought, the one on the tip of your tongue, the one you should hold back, but—

“Odd, not the first time I’ve heard that in the last 24 hours.”

Whatever the air was doing previously, it stops—and something far worse replaces it. Something heavier, thicker. Something which makes your body thrum and his eyes momentarily widen, before darkening—almost obsidian in shade and so shiny, you almost slip on them into his soul. 

He places the cup down. The ridge of its base echoing all around the room in the silence—it like a note, spreading through your ears and leaping from bone to bone. 

You watch as he drags his thumb across his bottom lip, shifting in his seat, leaning more over the desk. Not taking his eyes from you for one second, as though by blinking you’ll vanish. You should. You should excuse yourself before you give in, before you snap and bury yourself in him until every other emotion is muted and easy to stuff away. 

Dragging his tongue across his lip, the corner of your lips twitching at the sight. 

Folding your arms, you smile. “What you thinking?” 

“That I shouldn’t do this.” 

It’s natural, how you slowly sigh. “I’m very aware, I’m not even informing you of anything.” 

Glancing at him, finding the light catching his dark eyes, how they look like pools you, all of a sudden, want to slide into them—drown in them. 

“Also thinkin’ how we shouldn’t repeat it.” 

Swallowing, you lift your chin. “No. We probably shouldn’t.” 

Standing, he drinks you in, slowly moving around his desk. Each step, he doesn’t take your eyes off you. The gap is shrinking and shrinking. 

It’s not until he’s in front of you, leaning on his desk, foot nudging against yours. “Is it bad that I want to...” 

“That good, was I?” 

His fingers brush over his chin, and you feel it—anticipate that in a second you’re going to snap and be pressed against him. You are almost holding your breath. Needing it too. The way he has already silenced things, stilled the nerves in your body. Afraid of showing that you want nothing more than it.

“Yeah, cariño. You are.” 

You shift in the chair, staring up at him, counting—not sure at what number you’ll either close the gap or leave. Would it be ten, twenty, fifty—

You don’t get past five. The ring of his phone cuts through the air. 

“Shit.” His eyes slide from yours, staring at it. “Do not move.” 

You smirk, listening to him answer before you slowly stand. Your legs feel like lead, trying not to let his frown halt your movements—because you shouldn’t do this. Listening, hearing him say his name, short, sharp and breathless.  

His one-sided conversation blended with the ghostly whispers of gossip likely to come. The ones which worsened when you came back from Cali—the ones which follow you.

You're at the door as you hear him, his voice a little louder—a little more stressed. 

“Wait—I’ll call you back. Hey.”

Spinning on your heels, you meet his odd expression face on, slowly walking backwards in pursuit of your desk—your coat, bag and keys—until his fingers lightly touch your forearm. Thumb around your elbow, soft, gentle—almost surprisingly so. 

“You’re right, we shouldn’t.” 

“Words rarely ever said to me.” 

Smirking, you almost roll your eyes. Almost. “Take it as a sign, then. Your phone call saved you from another thing to get in trouble over.”

His mouth clamps shut, a thin line appearing between his brows. The same one you saw when he was sleeping, and you dressed in silence. The one which you’d wanted to run your finger over and thin out, take it with you, leave it in some distant part of the city for someone else to wear instead. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, sir?”

“Less of the sirs.” 

You pause, half tempted to just close the gap and be done fighting him. “Why? Worried about something.” 

His lips curl. “I’m tryin’ to be decent.” 

“How’s that going?”

“Fuckin’ poorly.” 

You smile. “Goodnight, Peña.”

He doesn’t nod, not until his fingers remove themselves, one by one, sliding from your forearm. 

Wanting to stay. Wanting nothing more than to press your lips to his.

“You owe me a coffee.”

He doesn’t smirk, but his lips try to. “And a piece of fruit?”

Shaking your head, you grab your coat, and then your bag. “Night, sir.” 

“Night, cariño.”  

chapter three ->

[supernaturalgirl20]

Love Me or Leave Me

Part 3

Pairings: Javier Pena x f!reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, explicit, unprotected sex, PinV sex, mutual pining, slow burn, jealousy, angst, fluff, sexism, forbidden relationship.

Summary: Your Javiers’s secretary. One he does not want. You are also the ambassadors daughter which he hates even more. What happens when the hate you have for each other slowly turns to something else? What will your father say when he finds out?

A/N: it’s going to divert from cannon from here on out, it will still have some of the main storyline of narcos but there will be changes 😊

Comments and reblogs really appreciated 🥰

The following morning there was a commotion in the office. Apparently, there was a ‘gas leak’ at an apartment building. Families dead. Making your way towards your desk, Javi sticks his head out of his office and nods for you to join him. Dropping off your things your make your way inside.

“Close the door.”

“Everything ok?” You ask slightly apprehensive. Javi seems extremely agitated today, and you’re not sure if it’s what happened yesterday with your father or the ‘gas leak’.

“I take you heard about the explosion?” You nod in response, afraid to say anything that might upset him. A knock interrupts you both and Javi’s gaze shifts to the now open door where Fiestl stands, papers in hand.

“What?! We’re a little busy.” Chris’s eyes drift from Javi to you and back again as he moves towards him.

“Sir, I’d like to go to Cali.”

“I’m afraid that’s off the table right now.”

“What, why? Sir, with all due respect we have arrest warrants for all of the Cali godfathers.”

“We aren’t sending anyone at the minute. There isn’t a Cali team.”

“Sir I really…” Javi moves off the desk and moves towards his office door. “Is that it…what was it?”

“Agent Fiestl sir.”

Chris looks to you for support but you just stare at him. You were not going to go against Javi. “Like I said, we’re a little busy so.”

“Sorry sir.” He says head down as he scurries off towards his desk. Javi had moved quickly and was standing inches away from you now, his warmth radiating off him directly into you. Jesus is it hot in here?

“I need you to do me a favour?”

“Hmm Hmm.”

“I need you to get intel from your father on this. I have to know what really happened.”

“I…I don’t…”

“Please hermosa, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

“Ok….Ok I’ll do it.”

His arm touches your waist almost delicately as he slowly leans down towards you. Your heart is beating wildly within your chest and you can’t stop looking at his lips. Those soft, plump…bow like lips. Their slightly rough as they meet the skin of your cheek, a warmth flooding you as butterflies flutter in your stomach.

He pulls away and as he does his eyes drift to your lips. You think for a brief moment he’s going to actually kiss you but then he drops his hand from your waist and walks towards his desk.

“Come straight to me once you’re done.”

***

You need to get this crush under control. You’ve worked to hard to get here to ruin it all by fucking your boss. Not that he would…not that you would…god you want to so bad.

You’d finished off typing out a report for Javi before making your way towards your fathers office. Hoping to just speak with Maria his secretary but as soon as you reach her desk the door to his office flies open.

“Ah Y/N, sweetheart come in.”

“I told you not to call me that here. I want to be respected and you calling me that isn’t going to earn me any.”

“I’m sorry, old habits. So, how is working with Agent Pena?”

“It’s alright. He’s a pain in the ass but I’ve worked with worse. What happened at that complex? Was it really a gas leak?”

Your fathers face grows serious all of a sudden and he stands behind his desk, eyes trained on you. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m curious. A lot of families died, young children.”

“Did he put you up to this? I told him to stay out of it and just let Stechner handle this.”

“You think I’m asking because of Javier Pena? Ha, dad come on you know I hate the man. He’s a womaniser, why in the world would I help him?”

“I suppose. To answer your question, no it wasn’t a gas leak, but that will be official word on it later. We believe the Cali cartel had involvement in this but with the deal so close now…”

“What deal?” You knew right well what he was talking about. Javi had told you already but you wanted him to think you both hated each other. That you didn’t trust each other.

“Pena didn’t tell you? Hmm, he really doesn’t trust you does he?”

“Javi was just brought down to be the face of the DEA, the hero so to speak. We’ve had a deal cut with the godfathers for a while now. They’ll surrender and do maybe six month in jail. It’s win win for everyone.”

“Well that’s bullshit.”

“Language!”

Rolling your eyes you stand and make your way towards the door. “What happend to you dad? You used to be so different, more like Javier. You actually gave a shit.” Slamming the door behind you, you walk back to your floor to tell Javi when your stopped by Bill on your way.

“Y/N, looking gorgeous as ever. Getting along with Pena alright? Heard he fucked an intern his first night back on the job. Good old Pena. I wouldn’t worry though, you’re not his type.” He smirks at you then walks off and it takes everything in you not to rugby tackle him to the floor. Taking in a deep breath you continue on your way.

***

Javi’s hand is on your waist and he is trying hard to resist the urge to pull you close, to feel you on him. He can see he has you flustered. The goosebumps on your skin, the erratic beating of your heart and he wants to tell you that he’s just as affected. He doesn’t. He leans in and right before your lips meet he changes direction and aims for your cheek.

His eyes glance quickly to your rise coloured lips as he pulls away. Just do it. His eyes meet yours again and then he draws his hand away from you and walks towards his desk. No, I can’t fuck her up too.

He pacing now. Nervously biting the nail of his thumb as he keeps glancing out at your empty desk. Where is she? It’s been two hours. Shrugging off his suit jacket he rolls up his sleeves and loosens his tie. Suddenly the echo of your heels reaches his ears and he turns just in time to see you stride towards his office.

He releases breath he didn’t realise he was holding and that ache in his chest seems to lessen.

“You’re ok!” It wasn’t a question and you knew it, simply nodding by your head.

“Well?”

“You were right. It was the Cali cartel and they knew everything about it. He didn’t even care. Those children…” Tye words get stuck in your throat as you hold back a sob.

Javi can sense the hurt you feel from your fathers action and he pulls you into him, arms wrapping tight around you. “Hey, it’s ok.”

He can feel you shaking in his arms and he pulls back, his hand cupping your face gently. “Shh, it’s going to be ok. We are going to get them, I promise.”

You look up at him now and he has that urge again. Your lips are right there. All he has to do is lean down and capture them in a soft kiss.

“What are you going to do, Javi?”

His eyes look past you then looking for someone and when he spots him he reluctantly pulls away and leaves his office. He can feel your eyes on him as he approaches Agent Fiestl.

“I assume you have a partner?” Chris’s eyes drift to Daniel’s desk before meeting Javiers gaze.

“Yeah I do.”

“Good! Your going to Cali.”

Javi turns around and walks back to his office with a newfound sense of determination. He slams his door closed, his gaze focused on you as you look at him slightly confused. He stares at you for one..two and then he strides towards you, his hand wrapping around your waist as he pulls you into him. His eyes meet yours for the briefest moment before his lips are in yours.

You’re shocked at first and he thinks he’s made a mistake until your lips move against his. He holds you a little tighter as you slip your tongue past his lips. He groans and when he feels his cock harden he pulls away. His breathing is ragged as he rests his head against yours, eyes still closed.

“I…I can’t let this go any further…I can’t…don’t want this to interfere with job. But I want to so bad.”

His eye open slowly to find you smiling. He can’t help but smile back. You make him want to be a better man.

“I get it. You don’t have to explain.”

“When this is over, I’m taking you out for dinner.”

“I’d like that.”

He pulls away - even though is body doesn’t want to - and walks towards his desk.

“You should head home, before I change my mind.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

He groans into his hand before meeting your gaze. His pupils blown wide.

“You can’t say thing like that, I’m a weak man.”

You smirk at him as you move towards the door. “Goodnight Agent Pena.”

He sits back in his chair and watches as you leave the office for the night. What the fuck are you doing?

Part 4

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[autumnleaves1991-blog]

Day 19: Rules Change - Javier Pena

Day 19: Rules Change- Javier Pena 

November Writing Challenge Masterlist 

Day 18: Her Husband - Marcus Pike 

“You do understand that by getting yourself into this situation...we are going to have to send you back stateside?” 

You nod. 

“Do you have anything you would like to say before we finish today? After this meeting you will need to go to your apartment and pack your bags, your flight leaves out of Columbia at 9 AM.” The ambassador glared at you from his high back leather chair. 

“No...I have nothing to say to you. Only this, I don’t regret a damn thing.” 

“You’re excused. Now get out of my office and go pack your bags.” He dismisses you with a wave of his hand and promptly ignores you. 

You slam the door behind you on the way out and walk over towards your desk. You can feel the eyes of your co-workers on you as you pack your small box of personal belongings from your desk. You reach toward your cactus plant on the corner of your desk and it falls to the ground, shattering. 

“Fuck,” you bend down to begin picking it up when a pair of dark sun-kissed skin move into your line of sight, you look up at Javier Pena, your boss. 

“Thank you,” you whisper. Picking up the remaining shards and placing them in the trash. You notice he has a small white paper cup in his hands and he carefully places the cactus in the cup. 

His arm grips your elbow gently, pulling you to your feet. You feel braver with him near and you take a moment to look into his eyes. A storm of emotion is boiling in them and it takes your breath away, “this is fucked up,” he whispers harshly, “I should be the one sent home, not you. I’m your boss...I’m supposed to protect you.” 

You chuckle darkly, “well maybe if we both used protection we wouldn’t be in this situation,” you rest your hand over your slightly protruding belly, “I have to go pack...will you come over tonight?” 

He hands you the plant and you place it gently in the box. “Do you really have to ask?” he whispers. You go to lift the box before it is quickly removed from your hands. 

“Daniel...I can lift a damn box,” Van Ness smiles at you before shrugging. 

“I can also lift a box, isn’t that funny? Let’s go, mama, time to get you home.” 

You cringe, avoiding the eye contact of the office gossips. Only a select few knew why you were leaving and those that didn’t could guess. It was the watercooler gossip of the week. Javier Pena had knocked up one of the Embassy secretaries. She was being fired and sent home in disgrace while Pena stayed in Columbia to take down the Cali cartel.

You didn’t blame Javier though. He wanted to leave with you and threatened to quit. But after the chance to take down Escobar was ripped away from him you knew he had to finish the work with Cali. It had caused many an argument between you but it was a fight he wasn’t going to win. Your one concession to Javi was that you were going to Texas to live with his father. 

You had no family left of your own and when you both sat down and called his father he was ecstatic about becoming a grandpa. Your shook from your thoughts when Daniel nudges you toward the door and Javier’s hand slips from your elbow watching you leave. 

At your apartment, you’re surprised to find Chris Fiestl there and packing your books into boxes with the label already written out. Tears spring to your eyes and you reach out for both of them as they engulf you in hugs, “Don’t cry y/n, you don’t wanna upset the baby.” Daniel reaches forward and gently rubs your stomach. 

“I’m just really happy to have such good friends,” you tell them both pulling away to wipe at your eyes. Daniel and Chris came around the same time you did and you instantly clicked. The three of you would go out drinking and dancing. 

When you started sleeping with Javi, the boys were there for you as you navigated the waters from casual hookup to a full-blown relationship. 

“I’m really going to miss you guys,” you hug them both tightly. From behind you the door unlocks and Javier comes in. Seeing you all embracing he sighs before walking to the small kitchen for a drink. 

The boys give you one final hug before they go, letting you and Javier be alone. You walk to the kitchen and see Javi nursing a whiskey and cooking some dinner. He wasn’t the greatest cook but since you found out you were pregnant and got sick at random smells he’s taken over cooking for you both. You hug him from behind and he leans back onto your shoulder, kissing your cheek. Putting down the spatula he turns and holds you tight. 

“I don’t want you to leave. I don’t want to be away from you...I love you so fucking much,” he nuzzles your neck placing soft open mouth kisses. 

You pull away and scratch your nails through his scalp he groans at the feeling. “It’s not forever, just until you put those Cali bastards away. Then you can come home to your dads and we can raise our daughter and have a life together.” 

“...Daughter?” his voice is hoarse as he looks at you with glassy eyes. 

You can only nod, your own filled with unshed tears. “I found out a few days ago at that last appointment. We’re gonna have a baby girl Javi.” 

He drops to his knees before your belly and lifts your shift. His hands rough and calloused trace patterns over the small bump. He kisses your stomach lightly “I love you mija, I will always be there for you,” he gazes up at you, “for your both.”  

5 Years Later 

“You have got to be kidding me! That’s a BULLSHIT CALL!” 

“JAVIER!” you shoot up from your lawn chair and pull your husband back down, “SIT THE HELL DOWN! You are embarrassing us!” 

Your father in law is cracking up beside you in his own chair, watching his granddaughter run unsteadily across the field. 

“But baby, she was clear and he called her foul! That’s my little girl out there and you better believe I will kick any honky white ass referee who tries to stop her!” Javier shoots up from his chair again pacing. 

You snort watching the man who helped take down Pablo Escobar and the Cali Cartel down get mad at a children’s soccer game. But that was Javier as a father. 

After that night he promised he would always be there for her he meant it. Every doctor appointment, hair cut, toddler tumble class, story time at the library, and recently soccer game he was there. His office walls covered in her artwork and always wearing a bracelet she made him at preschool out of macaroni and string; like it came from Tiffany’s. 

“Honey you need to calm down, she is doing great! Those are just the rules of the game, the ref didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“Rules change baby, and that guy needs to change his damn rules so he doesn’t foul my daughter,” Javi huffs and you rise pulling him towards you for a kiss. 

“She is so lucky to have you as a daddy Javi. We all are…” you rest his hand over your stomach and his eyes nearly fall out of his head.

“Baby?...” 

You nod and he shouts before kissing you. The whistle blows and your daughter who is the spitting image of her father comes running up. Javi picks her up, blowing raspberries against her cheek as she giggles, pulling you both into a tight hug. Despite the rocky start, you wouldn’t change your family for the world. 

[hopelikethemoon]

Proof (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: Proof  Rating: PG-13 Length: 1600 Warnings: Fluff. Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set May 4th 1998. Summary: The final article comes out. 

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IRREFUTABLE PROOF — DEA BRIBED COLLEGE STUDENT TO RUIN FORMER AGENT’S CREDIBILITY 

The DEA has maintained that Annette Morley’s termination was related to her perfidious actions, concerning her relationship with Javier Peña. The couple sat down with The Post to clarify why they chose to conceal their relationship.

“It wasn’t an ideal situation,” said Peña when questioned about why he and Morley kept their relationship quiet while working for the DEA. “We were working to take down dangerous organizations, we couldn’t risk something happening to our daughter. We suffered to keep it a secret. Annie gave birth alone, while I filed paperwork at the office. We couldn’t risk anyone knowing that two DEA agents had a child together — our daughter would’ve become a target.”

Could they not trust the DEA with that secret? Morley was quick to clarify why she chose to lie about her daughter’s paternity, “It was hard enough to be a woman working for the government. I was subjected to sexist comments regularly and I feared how I would be treated if they knew that Javier and I were together.”

It should be noted that both Peña and Morley denied that Peña was the father of Morley’s daughter, yet only Morley was disciplined. Documents collected via the Freedom of Information Act suggest that this was an intentional decision meant to minimize Morley’s participation within the agency. Correspondence between high-level authorities, conclude a pattern of suppression targeting women throughout the agency.  

The DEA ardently denies claims of sexual harassment, citing that their agents undergo a seminar about harassment in the workplace during their on boarding. Sources within the DEA have confirmed numerous reports of sexual harassment claims made against all levels of management. 

Evidence provided to The Post by a source close to Peña and Morley, and verified by the University of Miami, concluded that the DEA had orchestrated a scheme to pressure one of Javier Peña’s students to falsely claim that they had been having an affair. The source showed receipts of a sizeable money transfer in return for making the claims to the University. 

Following The Post’s reporting that DEA agent Chris Fiestle had numerous disciplinary claims against him, the DEA has placed him on paid leave. An anonymous source has provided The Post with information and confidently identified Fiestle as the individual who facilitated the DEA’s bribery scheme. A second source, within the agency, provided documentation of the bribery which had been signed off on by two high-level figures. 

Due to the investigative journalism of The Post we are pleased to report that The Office of the Inspector General released a report that a full audit of the DEA’s inter-agency procedures, practices, and correspondences. The Post is working with the OIG to corroborate the reports made in the paper. The Federal Bureau of Investigation has opened a secondary review of misconduct. 

 ———

 It was done. Finally. With today’s issue of The Post, you no longer had to dread the next front page story you’d read. Vickers had exceeded your expectations — not just by addressing what you had endured, but uncovering a whole culture of misconduct. 

“I don’t want to speak to the press,” You told Javier as you sat across from him at the kitchen table. The phone was ringing for the fifth time since you had gotten out of bed and you were certain it was the same type of call you’d already put up with. 

MSNBC, Fox News, and CNN had been hounding you since the first article — but now it seemed to have ramped up. They were all desperate for a sit down interview.

“Not even Barbara Walters or Diane Sawyer?” Javier teased, trying to play off the obvious distress you were in. You were appreciative. 

You laughed, shaking your head. “No, I’m not sitting down for 20/20. I’m humbled, but no. I’ve done what I intended to do.”

Monica sighed heavily as she folded the newspaper in half and sat it on the table beside her coffee. “I’m so glad he respected my request.”

“I told him all along that the article wouldn’t run with your name in it.” You assured her. Monica had spent the night — too anxious about the forthcoming article to spend the night at her own place. “I can’t help if the DEA brings you into it, however.”

She smiled grimly, “I know. I just don’t want my parents…” Monica shook her head, “And what about work? How am I going to work for the government if my name gets black balled?”

Javier cleared his throat, “I won’t let that happen. No daughter of mine is going to be harassed by those fuc—“

You shot him a look.

“Freaks.”

“Mommy, did daddy say a bad word?” Josie questioned as she licked the butter off her toast. 

“Freaks isn’t a bad word.” You shook your head, “Josie, eat your toast right. Please?”

Josie scrunched up her nose as she folded her bread in half and ate the center out of the toast. “But fuck is bad?”

“Josie!” Javier snapped his fingers, “What have we talked about?”

She tried to look as sheepish and adorable as possible, “I sassy daddy.”

Monica stifled a laugh.

“That’s an interesting way to say you’re sorry, Josie.” His brows rose upwards as he stared at Josie. “Josefína Selina Peña—“

“I’m sorry, daddy.” Josie stuck out her bottom lip as she slid herself off her chair and walked around the table to grab at you, pressing her face against your stomach and pretending to cry. 

“Are you hiding with me?” You laughed. “Do I get to play good cop?”

Monica leaned down to Josie’s height, poking her in the side, “What have we talked about bad words?”

“That they’re bad.” Josie offered quietly, before she squirmed out of your hold and dropped onto the floor as she crawled under the table.

Javier rubbed at the back of his neck, giving you a look. “We’ve created a monster.”

“We’ve created a little girl who isn’t acting like she just turned five.” 

Stevie barked, padding through the kitchen and ducking under the table to join Josie. 

“I a baby again!” Josie announced, remaining beneath the table.

Sofía leaned over the side of her high chair, trying to look for Josie. “Sissss!” She made grabby hands, wiggling as she tried to get out.

“Josefína.” Javier said warningly, pinching at the bridge of his nose. 

She popped her head out from under the table, “Daddy are you mad?”

“No.”

“You sound mad.”

“He’s not mad, Josie.” Monica told her with a gentle smile. “But you can’t be saying grown up words.”

“But daddy says them.” Josie said as she crawled out, “I wanna be like daddy.”

“Good lord,” Javier chuckled, grinning at you. “Be like your mother, she’s a far better example.”

“Only because I mind my p’s and q’s.” You teased, nudging Javier’s foot under the table. “Good cop says to go easy.”

“Bad cop is going to eat Miss Josie’s pancakes if she doesn’t get back in her seat and eat them.” He warned and that prompted her to scramble back into her seat. 

Monica started laughing again, “Is this what I miss out on every morning?”

“Every. Morning.” You shook your head. “Josie’s always getting into mischief.”

Javier fixed Monica with a droll expression. “Yesterday she ate Stevie’s kibble.”

Josie clambered back into her seat, picking up her fork and shoveling a mouthful of pancake into her mouth. 

“Josie, please don’t choke.” 

Javier nudged her in the ribs, “Small bites.”

“I’m stress eating.” Josie announced, making dramatic gobbling noises as she mimed eating another bite as she chewed her first. 

“What are you stressed about?” Monica questioned.

“Life.”

The three of you started laughing. Josie had a hell of a sense of humor. You weren’t sure which one of you she got it from, but she could not kill with her dramatics. 

“You know,” You started, looking from Monica to Javier. “That was exactly what I needed.” You rolled your eyes. “From the mouths of babes.”

“Who, me?” Josie questioned, giggling like a mad woman. 

“Yes, you, goober.” You laughed. 

Javier leaned over and kissed the top of her head, “No more bad words, JoJo.”

She tilted her head up towards him, grinning broadly. “But it made mommy laugh.”

He pursed his lips, “Then it’s fine. Just this once.” Javier stood up then, moving around the table to you. He rested his hands on your shoulders, squeezing both of them tightly. “Want more coffee?”

You nodded your head, “I think I may just work for a half a day today.” 

“Do you still want me to stick around?” Monica questioned. 

“If I get home early, you’re welcome to leave.” You assured her as you watched Javier take your cup and head for the coffee pot. “Get a jump start on your weekend.”

“Honestly, I think we may just stay in.” She shrugged, “You guys still on for dinner tomorrow?”

You nodded, moving your pancakes around your plate, dabbing up more syrup. “Javier’s cooking.”

“I hope he’s not grilling.”

“What am I cooking?”

“I don’t know,” You hummed. “What are you cooking for dinner tomorrow?”

Javier sat your coffee cup in front of you, “Wanna help make enchiladas?”

You shrugged, “Sounds good to me.”

“My favorite.” Monica smiled. “I can’t believe the semester’s almost over.”

“I can.” Javier sighed, rubbing at his forehead. “It’s still awkward.”

“We’re not bringing that up.” She offered with a shake of her head. 

“You mean I shouldn’t invite Elena for dinner?”

Monica and Javier both glared at you and offered in unison a firm, “No.” 

“Neither of you are any fun.” You laughed, grinning at them. 

The situation with DEA was finally put behind you and now you could just savor this little family of five you’d created despite everything.