#javier pena hurt/comfort | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lokischocolatefountain · 2 years ago

Text

Separation

Series Masterlist

Fandom: Narcos

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Rating: 18+ (*slaps the roof of this fic* This bad boy can fit so much smut, angst and fluff in it)

Word count: 8.4k words wtf

Summary: The last time Javier Peña saw his wife was almost three weeks ago in Steve Murphy’s apartment. He’d finally done it. He’d fucked up the only good thing in his life, driven her away with his neglect.

A/N: Why is it that whenever I write Javi, there’s angst? What is it about this beautiful pathetic man with big brown eyes (and big strong arms) that makes me want to hurt and comfort him? Also, if any of you want to be tagged the next time I post Javi (or just husband Javi) lmk and I’ll make a tag list.

The last time Javier Peña saw his wife was in Steve Murphy’s apartment, holding a sleeping baby Olivia Murphy on her lap as she consoled an anxious Connie Murphy. That night, he’d finally brought his partner home to his wife and child. Relieved, he went home only to find a note from his wife by his bedside informing him that she would be staying with a friend for a while. No explanations, no phone calls. Just a note.

That was almost three weeks ago.

Her side of the bed stayed untouched. Her bedside table was unusually empty without her novel of the week on it. When he reached out for her in his sleep, his heart craving the familiar comfort of her touch, he found it cold and empty. He’d wake up with a start, unaccustomed to an empty bed even though he’d spent all his bachelor life before her sleeping by himself. It was as though married life had been a cruel fantasy he was awoken from to be forced back into the reality of his lonely existence.

No matter how many times he longed to call her friend’s landline, he couldn’t bring himself to dial the number. She’d been by his side ever since he asked her to move in with him. Undying loyalty, a shoulder to lean on, a body to hold when he awoke from nightmares. She deserved a break from him.

The refrigerator sometimes had boxes of meals for him, his whiskey glass was chilled, her laundry done and dried for him to fold up. Dishes left in the sink for him to wash. He had a wife and she did come by the apartment but never when he was there too. She’d been like a ghost, slipping in and out and probably through walls without his notice.

Their anniversary came and went. Still no sign of her.

It wasn’t their wedding anniversary. It was the anniversary of their first date. That was not something they celebrated like they did their wedding anniversary but her absence made him remember and it fucking stung.

He’d finally done it. He’d fucked up the only good thing in his life, driven her away with his neglect. She gave him everything and asked for nothing. Not even the bare minimum. Her parents had begged her for a proper wedding and he couldn’t even give her that. She married him at the embassy and went home alone in the short white dress she bought herself from a regular store as he went off on some fucking raid that ended up failing anyway. She watched as her friends had weddings and baby showers and children while he kept her stuck in the same place in life.

And she was finally gone. After putting up with everything, she’d slowly disappeared from his life without him even noticing it.

Javi found himself outside her classroom. He’d walked into the English Literature department, opened her drawer and checked her schedule, ignoring the questioning staff with the same practiced authority he had as DEA agent.

For the first time, he took in the force that was Professor Peña in action. He knew she was a fucking genius. But to see her command the classroom’s attention was something else.

On one of their first nights together, he’d put his head on her lap and closed his eyes as she played with her hair and asked her unashamedly to read her book out loud to him. He had a reputation of being an asshole, of sleeping around a lot. There was an image of him being a callus man who hopped from one bed to the next. It couldn’t be further from the truth. He gave bits and pieces of his heart to every woman he slept with, he asked personal questions, kissed foreheads and comforted them over their troubles. He lied on the lap of the woman he would one day marry and asked her to read him a bedtime story of how Anna Karenina fell out of love with Alexei and in love with Vronsky. Javier may have been an asshole in others’ eyes, but on her lap, he was the man who kept his parents’ easy intimacy in the back of his head as he looked up at her and wondered if he could have something like that with her.

As she engaged the classroom in a discussion about Frankenstein’s creation, he witnessed everyone around him fall for her just as he did. He watched as she pulled them into discussions and got them involved in passionate debates amongst themselves about the nature of the creature. She was the perfect leader, knowing just how to steer the large group, get the stubborn young people to question their world views and lead them to answers to questions they didn’t even know they had.

She was a wonder.

If this was all he could have of her, he would take it. If she wouldn’t come home to him anymore, he would show up to her classes and sit in the back seat just to hear her voice and see her eyes twinkle with passion.

She didn’t notice him, her attention reserved for the students who asked questions and argued their points passionately. He had to wait until they’d all submitted their papers to her and had a little conversation to continue their discussions. He’d never seen students so reluctant to leave a classroom. He couldn’t blame them; he didn’t want to leave either. Only when most of her class had shuffled out did he have the courage to approach her desk.

He stood there, making no sounds, just fidgeting with his right hand as he tried to find the courage in him to speak to the professor who was counting the number of essays that had been submitted to her.

“Sorry, I have to get home now. Office hours are before class on Monday,” she said, not even looking up at him.

“Sure, if that’s the only way I’ll get to see you.”

She stilled mid-count, letting go of the papers as she looked up at him. She opened and closed her mouth, as though swallowing everything she thought to say.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, finally.

He shrugged and managed a half-smile. “Had to catch you somehow.”

When she said nothing, he continued, “Where do you go when you tell your students you’re going home? Because you don’t come to ours.”

He carried her papers, her handbag and her lunch bag to the jeep. As though he had to confiscate all her belongings to make sure she’d actually come home with him. As though he was afraid she’d slip through his fingers like the sicarios he chased.

Her hand didn’t cross the physical space between them. Her head rested against the glass of the window and her eyes were closed. She didn’t reach over to switch the radio on, didn’t ask him about his day, didn’t reach over to pinch his cheek or steal his aviators.

“Talk to me,” he said, his voice shaking as he realized he didn’t want to hear whatever it was she had to say. He wasn’t prepared for the harsh truths. All he wanted was to take her to bed and kiss her all over and hold her tight so that she would never leave. He wanted to cry like a little boy begging his dad to not leave for work because he would miss him too much during the day. He wanted to overwhelm her with his love, manipulate her mind into taking him back though he couldn’t admit to himself that at some point she apparently stopped wanting to keep him.

His hand was on her knee as he sat at her feet and looked up at her face expectantly for her to speak. It wouldn’t have taken him more than a second to get on his knees. He was no religious man. That stopped the day he buried his Ma. But he would get on his knees again and pray to her to stay, to be his benevolent goddess and forgive his sins for the nth time.

“I don’t know what I did, I really don’t,” his voice cracked as he confessed. “But it must’ve been something terrible for you to stop coming home.” It shamed him to discover that he had become the man he promised himself he would never be. One of those inattentive men who’d grown so comfortable in the kindnesses of their wife that they’re shocked when she decides she has had enough. Neglect killed love. And he had been neglecting her, leaving her alone most days and most nights as he traveled back and forth between Bogotá and Medellin.

She stared at him, her expressions indiscernible. She accepted his hands when he placed them on hers, the small action giving him hopes. “Whatever it is, I’ll fix it,” he begged, holding on tight. He needed her to believe him.

She shook her head and looked down at her lap. “It’s not— you didn’t do anything wrong.”

After relief came surprise. He hadn’t done something wrong this time? The relief was quickly replaced by worry. If he was the cause of her running away from him, he could handle that. He could change himself, fix whatever within was wrong to make her come home again. But it was something else, someone else…

“What is it, then?” He asked, cupping her cheek and gently directing her to look at him instead of her lap or the walls. “Is it work? Are your parents doing well back home?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing.”

He inhaled and rubbed his eyes. “It can’t be nothing. You left me. You packed up your bags and left. I think I deserve an explanation.”

She let out a sigh. “I’ll come back then.”

His hand curled into a fist and his jaw clenched. So that was it? All he had to do was ask? Her easy compliance made him want to throw something at the wall.

He got off the ground where he was knelt at her feet and began pacing across the room.

He expected some resistance when he barged into her workplace uninvited and demanded that she come with him. He expected— no, hoped for a fight for it would give him answers for her sudden disappearance. But she just walked with him to the parking lot, no questions asked. And now she just agreed to move back in. All because he demanded answers.

“Fucking tell me!” He yelled, his hand fidgeting at his side.

“I don’t want to fight,” she said, her voice too calm for the gravity of the situation. Like this didn’t fucking matter.

Oh, you don’t wanna fight? You don’t wanna fucking fight? You fucking ran off and you don’t want to—

“I don’t either, but you’re making it very hard to not do that.”

He heard her take in a deep breath before he heard the unmistakable whispers of sniffling. Great. Fucking amazing. Now, he’d gone and made her cry.

Her sounds of despair were enough for his rage to evaporate off him. He rushed back to her side and pulled her to his chest, forcing comfort upon her in the hope that it would serve as a salve to whatever wounds he’d ripped open. To his relief, she didn’t push him away. But she didn’t pull him close like she always did when he embraced her. Things had changed and he hadn’t even noticed it happening. All he could do now was hope that whatever this rift was between them, he could patch it back together.

—————————

Even in the blistering heat of Bogotá, Javier chose to keep his wife pressed to his chest when he slept. She was disgusted by their sweat combining and their clothes sticking to their bodies, but she indulged his need for closeness. She knew he loved with his body and she accepted his love, in all its sweaty sticky mess.

So he had no choice but to interpret the chasm between them on their marital bed as her rejection of his love.

As soon as he brought her back home, he had to leave for Medellin. Any hopes for setting things right had been crushed when he had to leave from work straight to the other city. He’d called home before he left, informing he would be gone for a long time once again. She didn’t say much, just hemmed and hawed before asking him to be safe out there. No exaggerated smooching sounds to make him laugh, no promises of what would be awaiting him when he came back home to her, no I love you before she said goodbye.

Over ten days after the call, he was back but without any of the feelings of satisfaction he usually had when coming home to her. Instead, there was just dread. She met him at the door as usual and wrapped her arms around him, but she separated without a kiss. The cracks in the foundations of their marriage ran deeper than he’d feared.

“Hey,” he whispered awkwardly when she finally opened her eyes. She stilled, her head jerking up as though surprised he was there.

“Hey,” she replied, her voice groggy from sleep as she shuffled under her blanket.

“I missed you so much, mi amor…” he said carefully, afraid that anything he might say would snap the last thread that held them together. His hand slowly crept into the space between them, an offering to share the littlest bit of marital comforts.

“Missed you too, Javi,” she conceded, not taking his hand but settling for playing with his fingers. He allowed her to lead, giving what little contact she took from him and taking back only as much, afraid to cross any lines.

Her nails were uncharacteristically unkempt. The woman he knew did not tolerate chipped nail polish, wiping all her nails with acetone when the paint began chipping off. Almost all her nails except her pinky had chipped paint now. Her thumbnail was bare.

“May I paint your nails?” He asked, hopeful. She nodded and he left their bed in search of the box in which she kept all her manicure tools and paints.

When they sat together on bed as he took the pink off her nails, they were closer. He handled her hands with care, refusing to scrub too harshly even when the pieces of glitter clung to her as stubbornly as he did. Manicures were something she got done from salons, but she painted her own nails just as often. She said it calmed her.

He then brought the glass file to her nails, reducing them to a shorter oval shape the way she liked them. Any longer and she found it hard to use her typewriter. He made sure to file the edges in the same direction, recalling that she’d told him filing in opposite directions was not good for nail health. He repositioned her hand in his, turning it left and right as he evaluated his work. Satisfied with the shape, he brought his lips to the finger, his eyes remaining on hers the entire time to check for any signs of rejection. He pressed little kisses from her fingertip to her wrist, relishing in the shy smiles she rewarded him with.

He repeated his work with the other nails and then used the little wooden stick she had to push her cuticles back in preparation for the paint. The shower would wash it off soon, but he still slathered some moisturizer on her hands, using it as an excuse to massage her hands. He pushed the excess cream beyond her wrists and up her arms.

He kissed the back of her hand and looked up at her, her eyes clouded with sleep and something else, her plush lips parting as his own traveled up her arm. “You feel so good, baby, so soft,” he praised, making her shudder. When he reached the sleeve of his t-shirt that she liked wearing to bed, he pulled it down, exposing her shoulder. As he neared her neck, she cradled his head in her hand, guiding him by his hair to place kisses where she wanted them. His lips went willingly, loving her up in every spot she took him to. She was all sweat, citrus shampoo and the jasmine of the lotion he’d rubbed on her. He breathed her in, her scent being his choice of drug.

She pulled him back from her neck, gazing at his lips before closing her eyes and leaning forward. He brushed the tip of his nose against hers, making her giggle. He smiled before leaning in again but kissing her chin.

“Javi,” she whined as he kissed along her jaw and the corners of her lips and even her nose, refusing to press his lips to hers.

“Yeah, baby?” He asked, feigning innocence. But she knew him too well to believe the act.

“Jodón.”

“Tell me what you want.” He demanded, craving the feeling of being wanted. He needed to know that she needed him just like he needed her, that she wasn’t just capitulating to his desires, that she desired him.

“Kiss me.”

He found himself grinning as he took her face in his hands and tilted his head, unhurried in how he grazed her lips with his. She took initiative, pressing her lips to his. She consumed him, not like a starving woman but like one ready to savor each second of her meal. He let one hand wander down her back, caressing her through the thin fabric but not daring to slip it under her t-shirt. He needed her to take this at her pace, unaffected by his greed and desperation to have all of her. It was fantastic how just a kiss from her could make him feel his heart beating for her.

He’d kissed other women before her and he enjoyed all those times. But with her, it was different. It wasn’t the first step in fucking, wasn’t a means to an end. When he kissed her, he wasn’t a lonely man trying to imitate a deeper intimacy he’d never had merely to quell his yearning for connection. In her lips, he found not just the thrill of desire, but the safety of home.

The first time he kissed her, every other kiss ceased to exist and she’d become the only one. Everyone he kissed after that first kiss left him unsatisfied. None of them tasted like her, didn’t send jolts of electricity through him, didn’t make his heart leap out of his chest.

She mewled into the kiss as his tongue danced with hers, giving in to her exploration of his mouth as she pulled him closer to herself. Taking her sounds as encouragement, he tangled his hands into her hair. He poured a month’s worth of longing into the kiss, asking with each sigh and moan ‘Can you feel how I yearn for you? Can you not feel how you broke me when you left and put me back together with just this kiss?’

She pulled back first and he found himself panting, taking in the air he didn’t know he was depriving himself of. He pounced back, needing her more than he needed oxygen. He took her lips between his, pushing her head into the headboard as he pulled her into a heated kiss. One hand roamed his shoulder and then his arms, up and down and driving him mad as the other rested over his heart. He brought a hand to hers, trapping hers over his heart. He felt lightheaded as she staved him of air, but he happily drowned in her. He needed her to feel him, feel how his heart beat to her tune, how it missed having her head rest on it as they slept in each other’s arms.

“Please, Javi. Need you…” she broke off to whisper. He placed one last kiss to her lips before he slid down the bed, pulling her to the edge before pulling her shorts off her. He dove in and licked her through her panties, savoring the taste of her wetness on the cotton. Her hand found his hair and tugged gently.

“You have no fucking idea how much I’ve missed having you, querida…” he said, placing a kiss between her legs.

“I miss you so much, Javi…”

“No, you don’t know,” he insisted, angered that she would claim to have missed him after she left him. If you missed me so much, why didn’t you come back? He pressed his thumb on her clit, pressed a bit harder than she liked and she whined.

“I’m sorry!”

“You left. You walked out on me, didn’t tell me shit and I was fucking miserable,” he confessed, passing on the hurt right back to her. She mumbled a few more apologies, but nothing would be enough until he got to take her again.

“Gonna let me show you how much I missed you, baby?” He asked, placing kisses on her belly. “Gonna let me make love to you?”

“Yes, yes, please. Need youuu—” she cried as he pushed the cotton of her panty aside to lick her.

“You need me?” He asked, licking her again. God, how he missed his favorite taste. “Did you miss my cock like I missed this pussy, baby?”

She nodded, but that wasn’t enough for him. He needed to know from her lips, needed her to scream for the entire city to know how she missed his touch. He pushed her legs back together and pulled her panties off before setting it aside. He wrapped his lips around her and sucked on her clit, exacting the sweetest little sounds from her.

“I need to hear you.”

“Missed you, Javi. Missed your cock,” she confessed, tightening around his finger as she did. He wished he had his cock inside her as he made her tell him how much she missed it. He would pull more confessions out of her with a promise of an orgasm and he knew she would say anything he wanted.

“You have ruined me, mi amor. Can’t make myself cum just as good anymore without this pussy. Hate my own fucking hand.” He praised before he lapped and laved at her core, licking her up as he made her wetter and wetter for him.

“I sneaked your panties out of the laundry hamper, took it with me to Medellin like a fucking creep,” he confessed, unsure if her cry of his name was the work of his fingers or the confession of his depravity. “The pink one with the stripes, covered in you from when you touched yourself, when you kept this cunt to yourself and kept me away. I needed to smell it when I wrapped my fist around my cock and imagined I was fucking you.”

She clenched around his finger and that sent a rush through him. “That make you feel good, Cariño? Knowing you’ve turned me into a fucking pervert?”

“Javi, baby please…” she cried as he busied his lips once again with her cunt. He would’ve left her pussy lips for the lips that cried his name so prettily but she kept him down with her hand on his hair. She fucked herself on his fingers, gasping when he added a third one to stretch her out further.

His idle hand traveled up her body, its every nerve ending enjoying having her tremble beneath him once again. He took his time, roaming everywhere, feeling every inch of skin that he would soon trap under him as he fucked her for the first in a long time. This was the longest they’d gone without each other ever since they decided to pursue what they had for real. Even with his job being the way it was, he managed to come to Bogota every now and then to have her.

She wrapped her legs around him, trapping his head with her thighs as she dug the heel of her foot into his back. He growled into her cunt as she thrust up into him, fucking his mouth and his fingers at the same time. She still wanted him in between her legs if nowhere else and if he had to, he would fuck her into staying with him forever.

A few more minutes of licking and sucking and she was pulsating around his fingers, her thighs setting enough pressure on him to make him fear that she might crush him. With a cry of his name, she came for him, coating him in her juices. He drank up all of her, not showing any restraint.

She pulled him up by his hair and he obeyed, kissing her lips to bless her with her deliciousness. He dipped his tongue into her mouth, meeting her tongue as she moaned with her own taste. He placed his hand over her collarbones, smearing her all over the place before he crept up and held her neck as he relished in the vibrations of her moans.

He gasped into the kiss as she wrapped her hand around him through his boxers. He grabbed her wrist and held her in place, keeping her from stroking his cock. It’d been too long since he had her and he wasn’t going to waste this morning by coming in his fucking underwear.

“Let me have you, baby,” he begged, dipping down to her neck to lick up her cum that he had smeared over her. He wasn’t going to let any of her go to waste.

“Yes, fuck!” She reached into his boxers and took him out, painfully hard and already leaking precum. He licked and sucked the skin until it was marred from his attention.

“Wanna be on top, please,” she begged and he rolled them around, acquiescing to her. She sat up on him, her knees planted on either side of him before taking her t-shirt off to reveal her pretty tits. Before he could reach up for her himself, she took command in taking his hand and placing it on her breast.

“Missed this so much, Javi,” she said as she stroked his cock. He kneaded her breast in his hand, enjoying having the ample flesh in his hands.

“Need to be inside you, please,” he breathed, trying as much as he could to clear his thoughts for if he focused on her hand around his cock and how gorgeous she looked on him, he would burst in an instant.

She obliged, adjusting herself over him before living him up with herself. She let him inside her wet heat, just the tip, before pulling back up. He groaned at the loss of contact, biting down on his lip as she repeated the motion, giving him just a bit of her pussy before pulling away once again.

He grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Don’t fucking tease. I haven’t had you in the longest time, darling. I need—ssss” he hissed as she took him in once more.

“I’m not teasing,” she gasped silently as she allowed a little more of him inside her. “So big, Javi. Haven’t stretched me out like this in s-so long,” she praised as she swallowed him bit by bit. “So fucking thick, gonna ruin me.”

“That’s right, baby… You love this cock, don’t you? Can’t go for anyone else ever again. I’ve made you mine,” he said, moving his other hand to her clit, moaning when she rewarded his touch by gripping him tighter.

“Mmmm love your cock,” she moaned as she struggled to take more of him even though he’d gotten her nice and wet with his fingers and mouth. Poor thing needed time to get used to his girth again after having gone such a long time without him.

“You are so beautiful like this… Look so fucking sinful trying so hard to take all of me, sitting on top of me like that and letting me touch your tits,” he praised as he played with her nipples, pinching and tugging and rolling between his fingers to make her tighten around him. She might have been on top, taking the reins, but he still had control. He knew her body like he knew the communas where he chased men, knew every shortcut, memorized every path, knew where to go to corner and capture them. He could elicit every desired response from her by touching her in the right places and saying the right words. She belonged to him, body and soul, and he enjoyed using every inch of her body to remind her to whom she belonged.

He let her set a slow torturous pace as she adjusted to him, groaning as she finally swallowed him to the hilt. It was pure bliss to be surrounded whole by her, to feel all of her wet, velvety heat. He felt her all over, from the tips of his toes to the top of his head and it was everything. She was everything.

It was sweet torment to be exposed to the cold air of the fan only to be swallowed back up by her hot cunt. He needed her so fucking bad, needed her not just for the carnal pleasures that sex brought but the feeling of home when he found himself buried in her— he needed her to devour him whole and keep him right there, inside her, all hers and nothing else. Only the Javier that belonged to her was worth existing. Everything else he’d become in over three decades of life was insignificant.

Inside the walls of their home, on their marital bed, there was no world outside. She brought him the delusions of safety and he luxuriated in it, allowing himself to forget everything that wasn’t her. The world was just her tight cunt, her tits under his hands and the filthy sounds from her lips as she slowly went from a woman in control to a writhing, moaning mess. He met her halfway with his thrusts when she struggled to keep up on top of him. He sat himself up and pulled her to his chest, giving in as she stole his lips. It was hurried and sloppy as they explored familiar territory, still as excited as the first time they kissed each other. Practiced lovers, savoring the familiar comfort of each other’s lips yet excited to find something new each time.

“Don’t ever leave me,” he begged, holding her face in his hand and making her look at him in the hopes that she would see just how much he meant it. “I can’t, without you… I— I c-can’t, mi amor— Please…”

“I w-won’t,” she managed to stutter out as she grew breathless.

“Promise me,” he demanded even though what he wanted to do was beg.

She opened and closed her mouth, unable to form words as he set a relentless pace, taking over as he thrust into her and thumbed her clit.

“Fucking promise me!” He growled, forcing himself into her in hard, merciless thrusts.

“Aaaah! Ja—”

“You’re mine. You’re fucking mine, get it? This isn’t— We aren’t just da-dating. I’m your husband. You can’t just leave like that.” He forced himself deep and inadvertently hit her cervix. She jolted in his arms and let out a pained cry, letting him know his mistake and he pressed a kiss to her cheek in a silent apology.

“Sorr— hnnng! ‘m sorry Jav—”

A tear slipped down her cheek and he kissed it, tasting her. He breathed her name the way a dying man would call for his god in desperation. He prayed her name, each syllable a request of Save me, never leave me, breathe life into this wretched man.

She pulsated around him, collapsing on his chest and relying on him to hold her up as she reached her peak. She was deadweight in his arms and he held her tight as he reamed into her, her back arching and her hair cascading down her back, shaking from his hard thrusts. She took him along with her, erasing his world and making herself his everything. She had dragged him to the peak of the world and now she was pulling him down and he went with her willingly, taking everything she gave him, getting lost in her body. She was like a breath of air after drowning for eternity, she gave him life, gave him meaning even though she’d been the one to rob him of it.

He wiped her tears and kissed her all over, showering her with all the love he had for her. But it wasn’t enough. No matter how much he poured out, he couldn’t show her the depth of his feelings for her. No words compared, no kisses came close to the place she had in his life. No matter how many times he told her he loved her, she would never know just how much.

“Te amo, Javi,” she broke off from their kiss to whisper. He collapsed on the bed and brought her down with him. He pecked her lips once and then twice before setting his gaze on her eyes.

“Si me amas…” he paused to take a breath. “¿por qué me dejaste? ¿Por qué?”

She looked down at her lap and fidgeted with her rings as she spoke, “Y-yo no quiero perderte.”

He shook his head as he said, “No me perderás. Yo soy tuyo.” He took her hand and placed it on his chest over his heart. “Tuyo.”

She scoffed, her hand curling over his chest. “More Escobar’s than mine at this point.”

“What?”

She shook her head and looked away, avoiding his eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to— I shouldn’t complain.”

“No. No, you talk to me. What is this about?”

“We’ll fight if we talk about it. Like Steve and Connie.”

“Do you…? Do you want to leave…? Like Connie did?” He asked, unable to steady his shaking voice. Three weeks with her gone was hell enough. If she wanted to take off permanently, he didn’t know what he would do with himself. Hunting the hijo de puta had become his purpose in life over the past few years. But he now had another important purpose, a woman he’d made promises to. Promises he was insistent on keeping.

She shook her head.

He sighed as he tucked her hair behind her ear, needing to see her without anything in the way. It was fucking frustrating, not knowing what worried her so much that she couldn’t even talk to him about it, that she chose instead to run away from him. But he had to be kind if he wanted her to open up.

He began by caressing her cheek with the back of his hand. Gently, like soothing a wounded child. “Baby… If you don’t tell me what this is about, how am I going to fix it? Hmm?”

“It can’t be fixed,” she said, same as that day.

It took him a moment to know how to answer her.

“When I asked you to marry me, you asked that I give you all of me. Have I not kept that promise?” He asked, knowing that he had so far. No matter how ugly, no matter how broken, he brought home all of himself. To her credit, she accepted him just as he was.

She nodded and said, “you have.”

“Now I’m asking. I want everything, too. Whatever you’re hiding from me that has you worried will make us fight. Is it about my job?”

“I’m sorry,” she said as she nodded, head hung low as tears spilled out.

“No, no, nothing to be sorry about. Just talk to me. What about my job?”

“S-scared.” His chest tightened at the trembling of her voice. Relationships were not something he was comfortable with after he left Lorraine and it was alright for his dangerous new lifestyle as an agent in Colombia. There was no one else he was putting in danger because of his line of work. But then he had to go and fall in love.

It was one of the reasons he proposed to her as soon as he could. Being his wife offered her more legal protection than did being his girlfriend. And knowing that she was it for him, he saw no point in waiting. But she was still afraid for her safety.

He reached out quickly to reassure her.

“I’m here, okay? Our home is safe. Those bastards won’t dare touch you here, won’t dare touch a US federal agent’s wife. I got you,” he whispered into her ear and rubbed her back, hoping to help her relax in his arms. She didn’t. She just tensed.

“‘m not worried about m-myself,” she said softly. “Ever since Steve got kidnapped, I—”

He took in a deep breath and pulled her in closer even though there was no gap between them. What was he supposed to do? Tell her he was safe? Lying wasn’t something he was ready to do in their marriage. Even if he did, she wouldn’t believe him after she had to comfort a panicking Connie. He had the same job as Steve, faced the same dangers. It could be him next. And he might not be lucky enough to come home.

The CNP guys were in much greater danger than he was as an American. Call it gringo privilege. But he couldn’t make promises. He couldn’t promise that a jump from the roof wouldn’t end up terribly. He couldn’t promise that he would never catch a stray bullet. He couldn’t promise that a crazy motherfucker wouldn’t target him for the bragging rights over nabbing a US agent.

Small town sheriff Javier Peña hadn’t thought of all this when he signed up for this job in his mid twenties. There was just an opportunity to run away from a town that hated him— a town he hated more for how it smothered him from all sides as he grew and grew yet it remained small, insignificant. It was his chance to do something great, to be the good guy fighting big bag guys and he took it. He hadn’t been warned that he’d one day be sat holding his sobbing wife, speechless because he couldn’t make the most basic promise— to fucking stay alive.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered, the tremble in her voice tugging at his heartstrings.

“No, no. I’m sorry.” Sorry I can’t give you more. Sorry I made you cry. He pulled her into his arms and sat on the couch, cradling her in his lap more for his comfort than hers.

“I shouldn’t complain. I know I married a man with a dangerous job. I signed up for all this, but… ‘m so scared, Javi. I can’t sleep at night. I wake up from nightmares and I lose you every single time. I get scared when I get a call because what if—” she stopped, breaking down into sobs.

There was nothing he could do to fix this, she was correct. The thing that was causing her all this agony was his whole life.

“Do you want me to quit my job?” He asked, regretting it the minute the question left his lips. What if she said yes? What if that was the only way to fix their marriage? He would quit. There was no question about that. But that would mean that almost a decade of his life’s work would be worth nothing. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself. Resentment would break anything they had left between them.

Please don’t ask that of me.

She shook her head and he had to keep himself from letting out a huge sigh of relief.

“Do you know I have students who— I shouldn’t tell you. I’m not on the field like you and I don’t know all the things you know, but I see everyday how he’s fucking ruined lives. I want you to catch that motherfucker. You’re in this fight and I’m not letting you leave it without crushing his blood empire. I just don’t want us to be collateral damage. I can’t bear losing you whether it is to divorce or a bullet. I can’t—” she brought her hand to her lips, biting on her newly shaped nails.

He swallowed, tugging her hand away from her mouth and giving it a kiss. “I can’t make promises about the latter,” he said softly, unable to look her in the eyes as he said it. He didn’t want to know what he did to her with those words. “You know I can’t. But when I die, whether it’s tomorrow or 40 years from now, I’ll die your husband. I don’t do divorce. You might think it’s not a big deal for me, the guy who left his first fiancé at the altar. But trust me, you’re a catch and there’s no way I’m letting you escape”

She laughed and nuzzled into his neck. He rested his head on hers and pressed a kiss to her hair. “I’m not joking. You should be very scared, baby. As far as I’m concerned, I’m it for you. Won’t let you leave no matter what you do.”

“Yeah?” She laughed, her eyes glinting with tears but also something new. Her lips quirked up in a mischievous smile. “What if I slept with a bunch of guys?”

He raised an eyebrow, reeling the unhinged jealous little man in his heart to join her in whatever this was that made her smile through her tears. “Good for them. Best pussy they’ll ever have. I mean, I will beat them to death for touching you. But you’re still my wife. Not divorcing you.”

“What if I fucked Steve?” She challenged, raising an eyebrow.

He knew what she was doing. She was making it personal, putting a face to the act and making said face a very familiar one. But he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

“Last thing he’ll ever do in his life. I’ll kill him and Connie will help me hide his body.”

“Mhmm? What if…..?” She trailed, looking into the distance as she stroked her invisible beard. “What if I let someone else knock me up?”

“You bitch!”

She gasped and shoved at his chest. “How dare you call me a bitch!?”

“How dare you even think of letting another man do that?”

“I won’t actually do that!” She defended, folding her arms over her chest. “I’m just trying to get a raise out of you.”

“And you did,” he supplied, making her scoff.

“How about…? Okay! What if I fucked Escobar?”

“Shit, I would tell everyone!” He laughed. “My wife? Getting that close to that piece of shit and living to tell the story? Yeah, I’d be on the rooftops with a megaphone. Oh and I’ll kill him. Of course. Goes without saying.”

“Well, you were gonna kill him anyway. What will you do to him for touching your wife?” She asked, twirling his overgrown hair around her finger.

Was this…? Noooo! He was just joking, but she seems to like the idea of him killing men for wanting her.

“Baby, what’s wrong with you?” He asked, laughing. She surprised him every goddamn day.

“I don’t know, you tell me,” she licked her lips and drew shaped on his chest with her index finger. “There should be an explanation for why I signed up for all this.”

“You like this, don’t you?” He asked, lowering the register of his voice the way she liked as he took her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You want me to possess you, to hurt anyone who would want you that way I have you. You like that I can be a dangerous man.”

She shivered, but quickly stabilised herself, looking very blasé as she spoke, “Huh, that answers my question. I always wondered what kind of idiot would be with Escobar. I guess women just like to fuck a powerful man. And money. She’d gotta be in it for the money.”

“She married him before he got rich, actually. And it’s not just women who are attracted to powerful men,” he added, letting her know just how much he liked when she was in a position of power.

“Men too? You’re gonna tell me you want to fuck Escobar?” She asked, making him laugh. He pinched her bum, making her squeal and attempt to get off him. He pulled her back in immediately, not ready to lose contact.

“When I came to your class, I sat in the back the entire time. I enjoyed seeing you in your element, leading the discussion, getting a big room full of people to listen to you. And your ass in a pencil skirt. If I was your student, I would wank off every day thinking of you” he groaned, his cock twitching inside her at the mental image.

“Oh my god!” She exclaimed before hitting him playfully.

“Whaaat? I feel bad for those fuckers in your class, having to talk about Frankenstein’s monster to impress their hot little literature professor.”

“Don’t sexualise my job!” She looked positively scandalised. Like he’d suggested that she let him fuck her on the streets.

“Uh huh? Now you know how it feels? What was that you asked me for your birthday?” He teased. “On yds, the little interrogation fantasy. You’ve been begging me to tie you up and interrogate you.”

She hid her smile from him, covering her face with her hands, but he pried them off to see her looking so sweetly shy at being reminded of the depraved things she wanted him to do to her. “You don’t have to do it,” she said, shy and quiet and she played with her rings.

“Mmm thank you baby, but I’m gonna make your dreams come true. Just be happy I’m not CIA. Cause CIA has some terrible interrogation methods. They’ll fucking waterboard you.”

“Oh my god! Okay this isn’t fun anymore,” she said, getting off him, but he pulled her right back onto his cock, laughing as he caught her expression.

“Let me go!”

“No, no sorry. I shouldn’t talk about the CIA in bed, they’re such a turn off.”

“You think that’s why I’m trying to escape?? Javi, women don’t like talking about waterboarding with a dick inside them.”

“Okay, okay, I know. Just stay in bed. I have today off and I need to be inside you,” he said, rubbing her back in an attempt to coax her into foregoing her household responsibilities for a lazy day in bed with him.

“I have work to do. Papers to grade and clothes to wash. Oh and some pervert,” she said, poking his chest a few times. “has been stealing my panties so I have to go wash them before he gets to them.”

“Oh please, it was just one pair,” he lied, looking away quickly but it wasn’t enough for him to get away with it.

She squinted her eyes at him and he relented. “Fine. It was three. Pink one with the stripes, blue lace ones and a white cotton panty.”

“Pervert!”

“Or I’m just really in love with my wife. You should see the sweet side of it. You don’t know how other guys act on the field. It’s like as soon as they’re in Medellin, they aren’t married.”

“Uh huh?” She said as she tilted her head, her tone suggesting that she wasn’t convinced by his words. “And I’m supposed to be grateful that you aren’t sleeping around? Pendejo!” She punctuated her curse with a slap to his chest.

“That’s not what I meant!” He defended, taking her slapping hand and giving it a kiss.

“Sure, Cabrón.”

He laughed, amused at how adorable she was when angry. He pulled her down to lie down with him, her head on his chest and his hand in her hair. Mornings like these had become so rare. Even without their period of separation, they didn’t have quality time together. Work always called, always overwhelmed and left him with very little to give as a husband. Being too tired to do anything else, he couldn’t even take her out anywhere for dinner. But that would change tonight.

“I made dinner reservations for us. Are you free tonight?”

He’d booked it a while back, but he didn’t know if she would want to go with him after she left. And he didn’t want to promise her a date night before he knew for sure that he would have the day off from work. She did not take it terribly when he had to calculate on her for work, but something told him it wasn’t good for a marriage to keep breaking promises.

“Hmm, I don’t know. This pendejo said he’ll paint my nails and did a half assed job. I might have to book a nail appointment for the night,” she teased, making him laugh. He’d completely forgotten that their activities were preceded by his request to paint her nails.

“I’ll finish the job now,” he said, getting up, but she pushed him back down and trapped him in a loving hug.

“Later. I just wanna stay like this a little longer. Feels good…”

“I like when you hold me like this, mi amor,” he confessed, his voice softening as he opened himself up to allow himself to bask in the euphoria that holding her to his chest brought him.

“I- it calms me down. I need to hear your heart beating. I wake up from bad dreams sometimes and I can’t fall back asleep if I don’t lie down like this.”

He froze. He had no idea she had nightmares. “You never told me.”

“Didn’t want to worry you.”

He said her name softly, making her look up at him from his chest.

“You have to tell me these things,” he said, moving her hair out of the way so he could have an unobstructed view of her. Her features were soft, her eyes open, vulnerable.

“You have a lot on your plate already… I don’t want to be one of your problems.”

“Jesus,” he swore before sighing. “You’re not- I’ll never think of you as a problem. I understand why you worry. It’s not unwarranted. I would never ask you to hide your feelings for me. I thought we talked about these things. You’re the one who’s always telling me that we should communicate about difficult things. What happened to that?”

“Do you remember when I made you choose? Either date me for real or stop coming over for anything other than sex?”

He hummed in response, encouraging her to continue. They'd been fooling around for around two months back then and one night when he was dressing himself to leave, she forced him to confront how he’d been treating her— he’d been giving her mixed signals, pulling her in and pushing her away. He’d act like her boyfriend one minute but get distant the next and she was understandably annoyed.

“And you said you wanted to date me but you warned me that your job was dangerous and that attachments were a weakness. I didn’t want to be your weakness, I still—”

He shook her head, interrupting her mid-sentence, “I was talking out of my ass, I was just scared. And it’s different now. We’re—”

“Yeah but when I think of you strapping a gun and badge on yourself to go out and get shot at by those malparidos, I want to stop you,” she choked on her words, getting up off his chest and hugging her knees to her chest. “I told you I could handle it. That day and the day you asked me to marry you. But, I can’t. I can’t handle it. Ever since Steve was kidnapped- and I know you said he wasn’t in any real danger, but fuck! It was terrifying to see Connie like that and I couldn’t help but worry and put myself in her place. And I couldn’t stop thinking about every terrible thing that could happen to you and I just wanted to lock you up at home. So I left- because I don’t want to be your weakness. But I can’t be brave, I can’t be strong.”

It broke his heart to know that behind the scenes, behind her easy smiles and her strong shoulders he leaned on everyday, there was so much fear. So much insecurity. There was shame too. Had he been more attentive, he would’ve known without her having to tell him, without her having to run away.

He sat up, pulled her close and placed a kiss on her head. “You are brave and you’ve been so strong, putting up with more of my shit than you need to… Sometimes I think I won’t get through this with my soul intact if it weren’t for you. So never think that you’re my weakness.”

She listened, her eyebrows furrowed and eyes never leaving him. She bit down on her lip, pulling at the skin with her teeth, something she did when anxious. He reached over and thumbed her lip, not wanting to wait until she started bleeding.

“I… I’ve put you in a difficult position, but I would never ask you to hide your fears for my comfort. And you leaving definitely did not make me stronger. Just scared the hell out of me. I thought I’d done something so shit that you’d left for good.”

“Sorry I left… I just—”

“I’m sorry you couldn’t talk to me. Not like that would’ve solved anything,” he scoffed, rubbing his eyes. “Nothing short of stopping that bastard is going to solve this.”

“I know, I know…” she sighed.

“I’ll get him,” he affirmed, taking her hands in his. All the things he’d done since he landed in Colombia, all the things he’d lost because of that man… To think he might lose her too… It was chilling. He’d lost friends, made enemies, became the guy everyone called an asshole for not cutting corners, for not putting up with anything that wasn’t right. He’d lost so much, but she wasn’t going to be one of them. He wouldn’t allow it.

Javier Peña wouldn’t rest until Escobar was history.

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softpascalito · 9 months ago

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Beyond Saving - Javier Peña x F!Reader

Summary: Javier is on office duty when he learns that someone close to you has passed, causing both of you to spiral.

Relationships: Javier Peña x Reader, Javier Peña & Reader WC: 1300 Tags/Warnings: can be read as romantic or platonic, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Suicide, Character Death, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mental Breakdown, Crying, Soft Javier Peña, Protective Javier Peña, Author urgently needs therapy, Trauma, she/her pronouns for reader Read on AO3

notes: please take the tags seriously. this is not a happy fic in any way. make sure your mental health is stable enough to read about the mentioned topics. more detailed warnings are on ao3 if someone needs them.

For my love.

Leave me, like you do (like you do). If you need me Wanna see me Better hurry 'Cause I'm leaving soon.

-‘listen before i go’ by billie eilish

It’s not one of those days that he thinks will be difficult. He doesn’t expect anything bad to happen. It’s not supposed to. But it does.

Javier never sees it coming.

He is seated at his wooden desk in the embassy, ready for a day loaded with frequent trips to the coffee machine and lots of paperwork. It’s his turn to file away reports. Reports that usually aren’t interesting to him, that aren’t relevant to his case. The numbers of the dead that are written down on the reports of the Colombian police stay numbers in his head. They don’t turn into the people they represent.

Until they do.

His coffee mug hits the floor a few moments after he reads the name. The brown liquid runs over the tiles, pooling in the crevices between them, as he reads the name again. And again.

Javi’s eyes fly to the cause of death.

Investigation pending. Suspected suicide.

He doesn’t even grab his jacket as he stands up abruptly, the shards of the mug that held his coffee moments ago crunching under his feet. For all he knows, they could be piercing his skin and he wouldn't notice. His body acts of its own accord.

It's Steve who approaches him and it's Steve who realizes in an instant that something must be very wrong.

“What is it?” The voice next to him is gentle but still stern enough to get through, “Javi?”

“I have to go.”

He is surprised at how solid his voice sounds compared to the feeling in his stomach, the one that makes him sway slightly on his feet, the impact of the world seemingly having stopped turning.

“Can you drive?”

At that, Javi clears his throat and nods, his brown eyes now flying up to meet the blue ones in front of him, “I'll be okay. I- I'll let you know.”

Steve's voice is low as he nods, “Okay.” As Javi turns to leave, the other man gently reaches for his hand, placing the car keys in them, “You'll need those.”

“Right,” is all he can choke out in return. He doesn't catch the way Steve watches him leave with a concerned look on his face or the sigh that leaves his lips as he reads the paper that is still on the desk next to him.

Javi functions on autopilot. He's not sure how he makes it to her apartment, how he remembers which pedal is for what, how he knows how to get his body to move out of the car and up the stairs.

The keys are already in his hand as he reaches the door but he doesn’t remember taking them out of his pocket.

The apartment is dark.

For a split second, he considers if she has left, if she has gone to see someone, the parents, maybe.

Then he hears a noise that sounds like a whimper, one that is so loaded with pain that it causes him to rush forward in an instant.

She is on the floor in the kitchen, back pressed tightly against the cupboard, knees drawn up to her chest, the entire form below Javi shaking with each small sob that reaches his ears.

Javi drops to his knees rough and uncoordinated, ignoring the pain that shoots through them and his back as he steadies himself and leans forward to cradle her in his arms, one hand sneaking beneath her knees as the other wraps around her back.

He immediately feels the reaction to his touch, as the sobs get worse and his heart breaks the way his coffee mug had earlier, with one quick motion, shattering into a million pieces that will be stepped on and discarded by someone who doesn't care for them.

“Estás bien. Estás bien, querida,” he mutters under his breath, repeating the phrase over and over, a phrase that he doesn't believe. There's no way she is even close to okay.

“I'll get you to the couch, okay?” Javi whispers as he gently scoops her up into his arms, taking the few steps over to the living room, focusing hard on his feet to make sure he won’t trip.

“Hold on to me,” he commands softly, making sure to take it slow as he lowers them both onto the leather sofa, his arms not once breaking their touch. He doesn't let up, trying to absorb the sobs and the trembling as much as he can. He wishes he could absorb the pain too.

“Estoy aquí. No te dejaré,” (I’m here. I won’t leave you,) Javi whispers, bringing one hand up to brush the hair away from her face, leaning back enough to look at her. He's met with messy hair and behind it with bloodshot eyes and a mixture of snot and tears, with pain and grief so evidently written on her face that he himself winces slightly.

Her voice shakes when she finally speaks, the first words she has spoken since the call. They feel wrong in her throat, like throwing up food that was already past its expiration date. They feel even worse when they reach the air of the room, floating between the two of them.

“How did you know?”

Javis eyes soften a little more at that. He doesn't even want to think about the fact that he only knew by chance, that it had been his shift to read the reports, that he wouldn't have had any way of knowing without it.

“Saw it at work,” he replies, honestly, keeping voice soft and his eyes carefully trained on her expression.

“So you know how…” She whispers and Javi nods quickly, not wanting her to say it out loud. Not wanting to hear it said out loud.

It makes it feel too real.

“Do you know how?” He asks back, using his left hand to reach for a blanket and gently placing it around her shoulders, making sure it doesn't slide off.

“I don't know- I don’t know details. Just that-” A shuddering breath leaves her throat, “that it wasn't an accident.”

There is a fear in her eyes, one that Javi has never seen in her before. One he has seen in very few people. And he has seen enough bad and evil to last him several lifetimes.

Even in the dim light, he can clearly recognize it for a terror that is beyond comprehension, one that he will never be able to put into words.

“It wasn't an accident, was it?” She whispers again, her voice breaking and Javis grip around her tightens a little as he shakes his head.

“No.”

He suddenly feels like he's going to cry, even though he's not sure why. It still feels like the world stopped turning and like he’s stumbling against gravity, against a movement he was so used to until a moment ago. Like a faucet that’s been dripping for ages and finally runs dry or a screen that shuts itself off, fading to black. Like the movement of something inside his chest, inside of her chest, not only a movement that he doesn’t think he can live without but one that he actually cannot live without.

“No, it wasn't an accident,” he repeats, his hand still caressing her skin.

“I'm so sorry, cariño.”

Her face is buried in his chest again as she cries, hot tears leaving her eyes and finding refuge in his shirt. A blue one, the one that she complimented this morning while kissing him goodbye. Waving to him as he headed out the door, a smile on her face. A carelessness that is not only gone now but that seems beyond reach, that seems to be waiting for its funeral the same way the body in a morgue is, a few streets over. Cold and alone and above all, beyond saving.

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thebookbutterfly · 11 months ago

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°•. Javier Peña .•°

Fan fiction recommendations from BB’s Bookshelf. All my favourite Javier Peña works in one place.

⭐️ = One of my favourites.

ONESHOTS:

🦋 If I could hold you for a minute [Fluff] Javier wants nothing more than to come home to you. Thanks to his partner’s generosity, he gets to. << Female Reader >> ⭐️

🦋 The Dress [Hurt/Comfort, Fluff] Someone tries to lay their hands on you, Javi teaches them a lesson. Protective Javier with a generous helping of “touch her and I’ll kill you”. << Female Reader, Attempted SA >>

🦋 Open Your Eyes [Fluff] The only thing you love as much as Javi, is taking care of him. Super Domestic. << Female Reader, Allusions to Sex >>

🦋 Take Care of You [Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Sick-Fic] Javier is sick and doesn’t want to burden you. You are worried and take care of him. << Gender Neutral Reader >>

🦋 Carillo [Slight Angst, Hurt/Comfort] Javi thinks that you are dead, or at the very least missing, until you show up at his front door. << Female Reader, Injury >>

🦋 Who Did This to You? [Hurt/Comfort, Fluff] The title says it all. << Female Reader, Serious Injury >>

🦋 Bad Date [Slight Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff] [18+] Javier steps up and takes care of you after you get roofied on a date. << Female Reader, Cannon Typical Violence, Explicit Mentions of Sex >>

🦋 Christmas Party [Hurt/Comfort, Fluff] Javier was happy keeping your relationship private. Happy until, a higher up in the DEA tried giving you unwanted attention. << Female Reader, Harassment >>

🦋 Let Me Cry My Cruel Fate [Fluff] Javi shows his love for you in many ways. Today he says it too. Opera trained reader. << Female Reader >>

🦋 Nightmares [Hurt/Comfort, Fluff] Despite his best efforts the nightmares always come back. Luckily, now, he has you. << Female Reader >>

🦋 We [Fluff] Once you move into Javier’s place you realise your clothes don’t fit in the closet. So you buy a new one. Domestic. << Female Reader >>

🦋 Sleepless [Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff] You can’t sleep without Javier by your side. << Gender Neutral Reader >>

🦋 This is Our Place [Fluff] Slow and sweet. Domestic mornings with Javier Peña. (Ft. Joel Miller for some bonus content) << Female Reader >>

🦋 Just Keep Breathing [Hurt/Comfort] Javier is finding it harder and harder to keep up with the physical demands of his job. You offer him encouragement and words of comfort. << Female Reader >>

SERIES:

🦋 Coming Soon!

DRABBLES:

🦋 Coming Soon!

#javier peña #pedro pascal in those jeans lives in my head rent free #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #narcos #javier pena x you #javier pena fic #javier pena fluff #javier pena x y/n #javier pena imagine #pedro pascal #zaddy pedro #hurt/comfort #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x reader

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lionlena · 1 year ago

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Dancing With Your Ghost (JavierPeñaxreader) Epilogue

A/N:

Ok, so that's the end of this story. I started writing it almost 7 months ago, not really knowing where it would lead me and having the idea until chapter 6… Along the way, I abandoned this story for Joel… But sooner or later, my heart always missed Javi 🥺 I would like to thank you all for your comments and likes. Everyone who read this series enjoyed it. I hope you'll be happy with the ending🥰

Epilogue

Since Javier found out you were pregnant, theoretically nothing has changed. He still loved you madly, he still cared for you, you still spent magical Sundays, and he still worked hard on building the house.

On the other hand, everything has changed. Javier worked even harder and at the same time spent every free moment with you. Even if it meant driving half an hour into town just to spend twenty minutes of your lunch break with you, he did it. And of course, he couldn't keep his hands off you. And he fulfilled all your desires without blinking an eye, including sexual ones. You suddenly discovered that pregnant women can be very horny, but that was no problem for Javier. If he had to, he would fall on his knees in front of you every evening and listen to your moans with pleasure.

You also noticed that the bigger your belly was, the prouder Javier was. When you were walking through the city streets or sitting in a restaurant, he would always put his hand on your belly and look around with a cocky smile as if to say, 'Look this is my work. Thanks to me, her belly is swelling.'

It made you laugh, but at the same time, you didn't want to take away his joy. After all, he deserved it for what a wonderful man he was to you, for supporting you every step of the way and going with you to all your doctor's appointments. Thanks to this, you felt confident and your fears about your child's health decreased significantly. Everything was going perfectly.

When you were seven months pregnant, the construction of your house was officially completed. With a wide smile, Javier led you into your beautiful living room. And even though you had been there many times before, somehow knowing that everything was over filled you with delight and you looked at everything as if you were seeing it for the first time.

"Everything is amazing." You said with emotion in your voice.

Javier kissed you passionately while tenderly stroking your belly.

"It's all for you, my little ghost, and for our baby."

Then suddenly Javier knelt down on one knee in front of you and pulled out a small box from his pocket that contained an engagement ring. You were speechless at that moment.

"Y/N, you are the most wonderful person I have ever met in my life. You taught me that love is more than a physical connection, it is a connection of souls. You gave me peace and warmth that warms my heart. Please be my wife. Be Mrs. Peña. Let's have a little wedding next week."

You looked at him in shock and quickly said, "No."

Javier looked at you surprised, maybe even sad. "No?" he repeated quietly.

Seeing the fear in his eyes, you knew you had to fix the situation quickly. "No... I mean yes, but no."

This didn't help at all. Javier was still kneeling in front of you, now on both knees and tilted his head to the side, looking at you with those puppy dog eyes. "Yes, but no?" He asked confused.

You took a deep breath and gently stroked his hair. "I want to marry you." You said calmly, and the sadness instantly disappeared from his face. "But not next week."

Javier smiled coquettishly. "What are you doing next week?"

You huffed and pointed to your belly. "I'm carrying your baby, in a week, in two... basically for the next two months."

He laughed softly and kissed your belly sweetly. "And? I still don't see the problem. One little extra guest isn't a problem."

You groaned in annoyance. "Javi, I don't want to get married with a huge belly... I don't want to be ugly and fat in my wedding photos."

Javier immediately tightened his grip around your waist, gently squeezing your ass and still kissing your belly.

"Mi amor, hermosa, cariño, how can you say such terrible things about my future wife? You are beautiful, the most wonderful, and I can't wait to see that beautiful belly in a white dress... Oh, believe me... This makes me get hard..."

You gasped in surprise as his hands squeezed your ass tighter.

"Javier..."

"I'm telling the truth." He kissed your stomach and looked down at you. "But I will understand and respect any decision you make. We can even have a big wedding next year if you want."

And suddenly, as usual, all your fears disappeared.

"Actually…" You started quietly. "You're right. I want a small, modest wedding and I want our baby to be born with your surname."

Javier smiled widely and gently placed the ring on your finger. Then he stood up and looked at you with eyes shining with joy.

“Y/N, I dreamed of this moment.”

He cupped your face in his hands and kissed you, but it was a different kiss. It wasn't a passionate, hot kiss... Or hungry or longing... It was something completely different. It was a kiss filled with love and gratitude. Your heart was beating like crazy and suddenly you felt your baby move. You placed Javier's hand on your pregnant belly and he chuckled.

"Someone here is as excited as Daddy." You purred against his lips and he kissed you lovingly once again.

A week later, you and Javier were married in the meadow behind your house. You were wearing a plain white dress that fit your pregnant belly really nicely. You wore a wreath of white flowers on your head. It was surprising, but you felt like a princess. Everything seemed wonderful and so peaceful. You said 'yes' surrounded by your loved ones and friends, and then you all had fun together until late.

That night, Javier took you to your bedroom and made love to you in such a gentle and caring way as he had never done before. And he wasn't just doing it because of your pregnancy. He really wanted to prove to you that he will be the best husband in the world.

Two months later, after almost ten hours of labor, your son, José Peña, was born. You were tired after giving birth, but happy as you held your healthy baby in your arms. And for the first time, you saw former DEA agent Javier Peña cry like a little baby. When he took your newborn son for the first time and looked at this little miracle created with his help, so tiny that he could hold José with one hand, he just cried. And he wasn't even ashamed of it. He hugged his son to his chest and kissed his little head, whispering sweet words. It was a sight that melted your heart and you were sure that Javi would be the best dad in the world.

...

You woke up one night and Javier wasn't next to you. You felt anxious for a moment but quickly calmed down. You started listening to see if José was crying, but you didn't hear anything. Still, you decided to get up and look into his crib. However, your son and husband were nowhere to be found. Your heart started beating a little faster. Common sense told you that nothing had happened. Maybe José couldn't sleep, and Javier took him for a short car ride. It was something that quickly calmed your three-month-old baby. But Javi never did it alone. You quickly went out of the house to the terrace to check if there was a car outside and that's when you saw them.

Javier sat on a rocking bench with his son safely placed in his strong arms. For a moment, you wanted to be angry at him and tell him that he shouldn't scare you like that, but... It was such a sweet and adorable sight that it melted your heart.

However, you noticed that something was bothering Javier. He didn't take his eyes off his son's sleeping face. You carefully sat down on the bench next to him and touched his arm.

"Mi amor? What happened? José couldn't sleep?"

Javi still didn't take his eyes off the baby. He gently touched his son's chubby cheek with his finger.

"He was crying, but as soon as I changed his diaper he fell asleep, but I... I couldn't put him down in the cradle..."

You smiled and nodded. You knew this feeling very well. You yourself have held your baby in your arms many times after he fell asleep. However, Javier's next words surprised you.

"I felt a sudden fear. I was afraid to put him down... I was afraid that as soon as I let him out of my arms, something bad would happen to him."

You sighed and gently stroked his cheek.

"Javi, what's going on?"

Javier finally looked away from his son and looked at you. He smiled sadly.

"I don't know, cariño... The cocky, arrogant, and malicious DEA agent suddenly became soft and scared."

You giggled quietly. "You're still cocky and devilishly handsome."

Your comment made Javier laugh softly. You always knew how to cheer him up. He carefully placed your son on his chest, holding him with only one arm. So that he can wrap his free hand around you and pull you to his side. He kissed your forehead and whispered:

"I wonder if I've made the world a safer place for our son. Catching Escobar, and taking down the Cali Cartel, does it all matter? The world is still dangerous. Maybe retiring was a mistake. There are so many things that could hurt him. So many bad things, bad people. Now he's still tiny... For now, I can really wrap my arms around him and protect him, but then what...

You smiled at him understandingly. Javier always had a tendency to get lost in thought. Often unnecessary.

"Javi, darling. The world is dangerous, and we are not able to protect our baby from everything. This is the pain and fear of all parents. In a few months, our son will start walking and he will surely trip over a stone more than once. You want to remove all the stones from the area?"

Javi looked at you with determination. "If necessary."

You rolled your eyes.

"You know it's impossible, but you know what is possible? Our comfort. We will wipe his tears, bandage his hurt knee, and assure him that we are with him. And this is how we will keep him safe. At every stage of his life we will love him and accept him and thanks to this, he will know that he can always come to us and ask us for help.

Javier looked at you with eyes full of boundless love.

"You are very smart, hermosa."

You giggled quietly. "I learned a thing or two about life by being a ghost."

Javier laughed softly. Then he kissed you on the forehead and then your son. He looked at you with those puppy eyes of his.

"Can we sit here for a while? I don't want to put him in the crib just yet."

You nodded and snuggled into his warm, strong body. You looked at your son's calm face and realized that he felt exactly the same as you. That Javier Peña would do literally anything, even burn down the entire world, to keep you safe, happy, and loved. You closed your eyes and whispered, "We can stay here until morning."

You felt Javier hug you tighter and rest his chin on your head. You no longer needed words. Everything was perfect, right in that moment, when he held in his arms the two people he loved and needed most in the world.

...

Six years later, you still felt the same peace and security when you were in your husband's arms. You've had harder times, but you've always been in this together. You didn't hide anything from each other, you didn't fight each other. You loved each other.

Your son was healthy and growing quickly. From a baby, he became a small, charming boy who loved life. He was cute and feisty like his Daddy, but he was also calm like you... And he wasn't the only one.

Four years after your wedding, your little girl, Maya Peña, was born. And if you thought José was like his dad, then... Your little girl looked like a little copy of her daddy. Her eyes were identical.

And currently, she was looking at you with those sweet brown puppy eyes that were tearful and very tired. She put her thumb in her mouth and hiccuped. Her cheeks were red and the hairs on her forehead were wet.

"Oh my little one, you really need a nap."

"Papi…" She whined indistinctly and you already knew you had no choice.

You've been trying to put her down for a nap for the past forty minutes, but she's only gotten more grumpy and cranky. There was no other option. You must have to used a secret weapon. You took her in your arms and left the house, heading towards the horse paddock.

Your son was just sitting on a little white pony and looked very happy. His grandfather Chucho held the reins and Javi secured his son, but you knew that your little boy could handle it even on his own. So you walked up to the fence and waved your hand. Javi immediately said something to his son. You could only guess that he was asking him to hold on tight and be careful.

When he got closer to you and your daughter, he immediately noticed what the problem was and without asking, he reached out his hands, taking Maya away from you. His two-year-old daughter immediately snuggled into his chest and let out a few grumpy purrs. Javi chuckled and kissed her head.

"Someone here is tired but doesn't want to go to sleep?" He asked, knowing the answer perfectly well. "It's okay. Daddy can handle it."

He smiled at you and kissed your forehead, whispering. "I love you."

You smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Even after all these years, he still took every opportunity to make sure you knew how much he loved you.

"I'll go to José." You said and kissed your daughter on the head before Javier took her towards the house.

When your son saw you, he smiled broadly. Chucho gave you a friendly smile too.

"Is everything okay with the little princess?" he asked with concern.

You immediately felt your heart melt. Your children not only had a wonderful, loving, and caring father, but also a wonderful grandfather who always spoiled them and cared for them.

You nodded and moved closer to your son, placing your hand on his back.

"Yes, the heat today is just bothering her. But I'm sure Javier's magic will work on her and she'll be asleep soon."

Your son giggled (in the same way as his daddy) and asked, "Papi can do magic?"

You smiled widely and touched his sweet cheek.

"Yes, it always puts you and your little sister to sleep in minutes."

Your son eagerly nodded and added: "And he can turn ghosts into people!"

You laughed. This was your son's favorite story. Of course, Javier told your story in the form of a fairy tale, omitting the tragic moments and changing a few things. And of course, only you and Javi knew that it wasn't just a made-up story at all.

Half an hour later, your son finished riding the pony and, together with his grandfather, took the pony to the meadow so that the animal could enjoy the fresh grass and rest.

You came back home, quietly entered the living room and your heart beat faster.

Javier lay on the couch and slept with his baby girl, who was dozing comfortably on his broad chest. You saw them both calm and finally resting. You looked at them, enchanted, for a moment. Then you went to the kitchen and started preparing lemonade. You were sure that soon your son and his grandfather would come home, and then your daughter and Javi would wake up. And you all need a sip of refreshing, cool lemonade. Soon your quiet home will once again be filled with the joyful screams of children and the laughter of their father. And as always, Javier will grab your hips whenever he gets the chance, kiss your neck and whisper some dirty words in your ear, because some things never change.

And your love for the man who danced with your ghost will never change.

...

MASTERLIST

Part I

Part XII

Taglist: @aestheticangel612 , @kittenlittle24 , @hxpburn76 , @creedslove , @ranahx , @yyiikes , @fuglyputa24 , @picketniffler

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #javier peña #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x reader #javier pena and you #javier is so sweet #soft!javier #narcos fanfiction #fanfiction #dancing with your ghost #hurt/comfort #pregnant!reader #daddy!javier #javier pena is papi #happy ending

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garbinge · 2 years ago

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In the Midst of Chaos

Javier Peña x F!Reader

Prompt: Bandaging them up while you both tell each other about your day

A/N: okaaaaay, so first time posting this year but I have some stuff in the works I hope to get out ASAP! Enjoy my first ever Javi fic. Watched Narcos last year, indulged in way too much Javi fic and then went back down my Pedro Pascal rabbit hole because of TLOU so a Narcos rewatch happened and now, well, this happened! Please be kind as it’s my first time writing for Javi (and Narcos!).

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Cursing, light angst, mentions of bullets + blood, canon-level mentions of violence, guns, shooting, etc.

Narcos Taglist: @drabbles-mc (Let me know if you’d like to be added!)

The swarm of people in and out of the clinic on a normal day was enough to give anyone anxiety, but the buzz around the space currently was a little more intense. The shooting happened in the blink of an eye. One minute you were treating a wound infection on a young woman and the next you both were diving under the exam table for cover.

The window was high and the building was made from thick concrete which made it hard for stray bullets to graze you or your patient but the glass shards made their way down to you. Your face was covered in cuts, nothing too serious but your arm needed some tending to, maybe a couple stitches.

But that was your last concern. You made sure your patient was okay first, instructing her to stay under the table until the police arrived, and immediately went to find Connie.

Chaos. That was the best way to describe the atmosphere in the clinic, but you kept your cool. Living in Colombia all these years had taught you that a clear head was the best way to survive. Your eyes scanned around to see the blond hair woman who was a little more frantic than you. You couldn’t blame her, though. This was her first month being here and after experiencing a hold up at the airport, a dead cat, and now a shooting…there wasn’t much less you would expect from her in this scenario. In all honesty, she was holding her own pretty well.

She turned to you and ran, you brought her into the room you were originally in, expecting to see the patient under the table still but she was gone. In the midst of the chaos you let out a disappointing sigh, you knew your best bet was to stay in one place, with the way the bullets had been shot it was likely a drive by and no threats were in the building, but the anxiety of it all was that you couldn’t be 100% sure.

Connie was sobbing at this point, her cries were silent as you both sat huddled together on the ground. You were thankful for that at least, you didn’t have to add tension to the situation by quieting her down. What felt like hours had passed, but as you kept your eyes focused on the clock you knew it was barely 15 minutes… you heard tires squeal outside, more clear than ever before since the window was non-existent now. You heard the voices outside, you could tell they were the police just by how they spoke, less slang and franticness in their tones but more purpose and firmness.

Even with that knowledge, it didn’t make the door opening to your exam room feel any less daunting but when you saw his face you let out the exhale you had been holding the entire time.

Connie was out of your arms in seconds when she saw her knight in shining armor’s face, engulfing Steve in an embrace with no concept of letting go. Steve was looking her over immediately, asking her questions. His eyes glanced over towards you when Connie mentioned your name in her mile a minute explanation of what was happening. Javi was already moving over to you, but just before he was standing in front of you, you noticed Steve had given you a nod. His way of thanking you before bringing Connie to the medic for a full check.

Moving your stare back to Javi, you could see his shoulders slump in a bit of relief when you offered him a look to let him know you were okay, your face softening and your breath starting to inhale and exhale properly versus just minutes before. Part of him was happy you weren’t dead or bleeding out but another part of him was distraught you were dragged into another situation like this.

“I’m okay.” You whispered as he guided you up off the ground. No amount of facial expressions or body language would match the relief of actually hearing those words. Despite that, there was no embrace or hug or urgency in his moves as he guided you to the table that you had been hidden under just minutes before. It wasn’t like him, his main concern was to make sure you were physically okay which is why his eyes scanned over yours and then continued over the rest of your body.

“Shit.” His eyes stopped at your right arm, his touch was light as he moved it around to get a better look.

“We match.” You said nodding to his shoulder. His shirt was ripped and the blood from the cut was seeping onto his shirt. The bullet proof vest sitting only inches from the cut.

Javi’s head dropped and when he picked it back up there was a small smile on his face. “You or me?”

“You talk first, I patch up.” You were moving to the counter where all your medical supplies were. Your luck must’ve not completely run out because despite there being glass everywhere the area of the counter where the gauze and bandages were was untouched. You jimmied the draw open that always was getting stuck and pulled out the antibiotic cream, saline, and alcohol.

You turned around to place the items on the exam table to see Javi had taken off his jacket and rolled up the sleeve of his t-shirt button up. A laugh left your mouth at the site of it.

“Shirt off and start talking, Peña.”

Javi laughed as he unbuttoned his shirt.

“It’s not that serious, I jumped off a balcony.”

You rolled your eyes as you poured saline over the wound and touched up the edges with gauze.

“Who were you chasing?” The question rolled off your tongue like you weren’t asking something extremely classified. Peña didn’t answer right away which made you ask a different question with a little more worry in your tone. “Who was chasing you?”

He looked up at you as you asked, you were now grabbing the alcohol and getting ready to pour it on the gauze to disinfect the wound.

“Sureshot.”

Your eyes darted to him when he said it, you expected him to say no name at all, but when you heard the nickname of one of Pablo’s closest men, you were shook to your core.

“and you had it right the first time, we were chasing him.”

“We?” You asked as you moved his shoulder in preparation of the sanitizing to come.

“Okay, I.” Javi corrected himself.

You patted the alcohol soaked cotton against his open wound without warning and he hissed.

“I know, I’m sorry.” He surrendered.

It was your one rule. Never be alone. Either of you. With the targets you both had on your back, it was a piece of comfort you both had in the midst of all the crazy shit always happening.

“Don’t apologize, just fuckin’ do it Javi.” The tone you used wasn’t mean, just exhausted.

“Baby, I’m..” He wanted to come up with an excuse but he stopped himself and nodded in agreement.

You were starting to put a few butterfly bandages on the cut when you saw the bruises on his side.

“A balcony, huh?” You softened your tone even more.

“Still hurts less than you yellin’ at me.” He said that sentence with a full texan accent and it warmed your heart.

“It’s because I care, mi amor.” The pet name rolled off the tongue, it had been years of you calling him that, years of you two being in what felt like groundhogs day in Colombia. You moved here for mission work looking for purpose and ended up finding love. Meeting Javi was luck but marrying him was fate. Going to that little chapel in Cartegena, one day you were celebrating a wedding, and the next you were both back in the front lines of your lives. Haven’t looked back since.

“Speaking of caring, I really would like to take a look at that.” The cut on your arm looked worse, it definitely needed to be stitched up, and there was a chance there was still glass stuck in it.

“I can have Connie fix me up, don’t you have to get back to work?”

Outside the exam room it was bustling with people, members of the search bloc, regular street cops, more DEA members and CIA from what you could tell.

“Carrillo is here, he can handle it with Steve. My priority is you.” He was sliding his shirt back on as he stood up, nodding at the table for you to take a seat.

“Steve is going to be tied up with Connie, she’s a little shaken up.”

Javi turned to look at you, a little shocked by what you said. He knew Connie could hold her own which just made the reality of what happen really sink in more him. He could have lost you.

“Bottom left drawer.” Now, you were sitting where Javi just was, back to the medical supplies as he searched for what you assumed to be your stitch kit. You didn’t need to be looking at him to know what he was doing. Making his way over, he decided to sit across from you instead of leaning over you, patting his thigh so you could rest your arm there as he treated the wound.

“What happened?” The tweezers were picking at the glass shards that were still lodged inside.

While you weren’t flinching, your face was scrunched up as he picked at the wound. “One minute I was seeing a patient, the next we were being rained on by bullets and glass. It had to be a drive by, I didn’t hear anyone inside.” You gave him all the information you had.

“It was the cartel.” Peña was now dropping the tweezers into the petri dish. “Grip my hand.” He ordered you as he picked up the alcohol bottle. Your cut was much deeper than his and yours was way more likely to be infected so pouring the rubbing alcohol on it was the only way to be sure you were killing off any unwanted bacteria and Javi knew that.

“The cartel?” You questioned, ignoring his request.

“Cariño, por favor.” He begged you now with glistening eyes and an extended hand for you to grip. You obliged, taking his hand and gripping it tight. “Deep breath,” he said calmly and breathed in with you, “on the count of three,” he began to count down the numbers, “1,” and the minute the last syllable hit the roof of his mouth the alcohol was being poured on the wound. It was like him to have you prepare for 3 and go on 1, even though it hurt more, you knew it was smart. Your body tensed, you flinched back, but your hand got caught in Javi’s grip and his eyes glued to yours. “Deep breaths, baby.”

“I’d rather have you yelling at me.” You referenced him from mere moments ago. He laughed at the comment and grabbed gauze to pat the wound dry and clean up any blood he could.

“I think the cartel knows the girl is here.” Peña’s voice whispered. That context was enough, you knew he was talking about Elisa, Steve had been extremely upset with the appearance of the guerrilla communist, and while Javi was too, he was a little less forthcoming about it. Now with what happened, Steve was going to shout his opinion from the rooftops and Javi was going to be forced to pick a side.

“Javi, that means this entire place is compromised.” Your voice had stress behind it, this was your career, your life and life’s work. Javi had his and you never took that from him, another thing that made you two just work, you understood the importance of it all.

“Not if we get her out.” Javi was now getting ready to stitch the cut back up. “2 stitches?” He asked before you had a minute to take in what he said.

“2 is fine, 3 is better.” You looked down to assess it again.

“You want a painkiller?” Javi asked as he set the sutures up in the forceps.

The look you gave him was almost laughable, and that’s practically what he did. “Let me at least put numbing cream around it?” Javi negotiated with you not wanting to add any more pain to your day.

The look you gave him was enough of an answer and he threw his hand up in surrender and began to thread the suture through your skin. Your face stayed brave, your jaw might have chiseled out at points as you clenched your teeth to fight through the sting. Javi checked on you when appropriate, not enough to prolong the process but just for a second after each stitch. When Javi finished the second stitch and looked up to read your face, you spoke up.

“How do we get her out?” Your brain was trying to wrap itself around the idea he mentioned earlier.

“You aren’t going to like it.” That was one thing about Javi, he kept it straight with you. It wasn’t always like that, in the beginning there was a sort of a bliss to your relationship, but it didn’t last long. Javi called you from his apartment at 4 in the morning, telling you to come over. Walking into a room with him a bloody mess wasn’t what you were expecting but it’s what got the walls to break down between you. It’s also what made it real, it wasn’t just a fling, something to pass time, it was then where you realized you both supported each other's purpose.

“Do you?” You asked him. “Do you like the plan?”

“Less like and more that there’s no other option.” Javi got ready to thread the last stitch through.

“You want me and Connie to bring her out.” It was easy to read the situation.

Javi offered a small nod and looked up at you, it was to get a sense of your thoughts but also to check on you as he finished the last stitch.

“I think that you don’t like that plan.” A smirk filled your face.

“You’re right, I don’t.” The gauze wrapped around your arm as he was bandaging it up.

“What’s Texas like?” You asked him, sincerely. There was nothing more to discuss. Whether either of you liked it, it was happening. You and Connie were going to have to help Elisa escape, there was only one other option which was to deal with more of what had just happened…and that was an option you both liked significantly less. Instead of dwelling, arguing or giving Peña a chance to do the same, you changed the topic.

“Beautiful,” he reminisced, “like you.”

“Ahhhh, Agent Peña, the smooth talker. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

You smiled up at him as he stood up from the exam table. His hand was now intertwined with your injured one, bringing it up to press a soft kiss to the back of it. You had mere seconds before the both of you were about to reenter the chaotic investigation that was happening outside. He’d pull you into questioning with other members of his team, you’d have to treat people who were likely trampled on in the flight to escape bullets, and you’d have to tell your story of events likely 50 times over so Javi stood there with his lips on the back of your hand making the seconds feel like hours before the both of you were up and standing at the door of the exam room.

You both stood straight ahead before Javi looked to where you on his right and squeezed your hand to get your attention back on him.

“When we catch Escobar, I’m getting us a first class ticket to show you all over Texas.”

#javier peña #narcos #Narcos Netflix #narcos fanfiction #javi peña #javier pena x reader #javier peña x reader #javi pena #javier pena #hurt and comfort #narcos hurt and comfort #javier peña hurt and comfort #javi pena hurt and comfort #pedro pascal #garbinge #my writing

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mcwritingblog · 1 year ago

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Pairing: Javier Pena x AFAB reader

Summary: Javi and Y/N need to have a talk

Rating: G

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort

Author’s note: Sorry guys for the late update! The writer’s block has been real

Word count: 1.5K

As you pass all the town businesses, the summer air flows into Javier’s truck. Then, finally, he pulls into a parking spot, his door facing the sidewalk.

“Thank you for dropping me off. You know I could've just biked to work?” you ask him, closing his door. You circle to the driver's side, leaning on his open window.

“I like driving you to work. Dinner tonight?”, He suggests.

“I could go for some wine-ing and dining,” you play with the thought. Unfortunately, Maria’s been on vacation for the last week, so you’ve taken care of the shop yourself.

“Ok, I’ll pick you up at closing.” he leans his head out the window to connect his lips with yours.

“I love you,” you say, pecking his lips once more, then turning away from him to walk to the shop's door.

“I love you more,” he says quickly, rolling up his window. Then, before you can retort, he drives off.

It's corny, but you both argue about who loves who more. He’s so frustrating.

You snort, unlocking the door and stepping inside.

Today’s going to be different. You can feel it.

----

Javi

“Did you pick it up?” I ask Steve.

“Yes.” Steve throws the ring box at me.

“How did you get all that money past the misses?”

“Told her I lost a bet to you.”

Steve snorts. “So today is the day? The day Javier Pena settles down. We really should have cake.”

“I am so nervous.”, I say, bracing my head with my hand.

For the last month, Javier Pena has been driving himself absolutely nuts. Should he propose? Should he not? There are so many things he has to take into consideration. He’s never felt this way about a woman before. This week, she’s been covering for her boss and the empty hours without her has brought him to snoop around her stuff. He has read approximately 5 of her books. Fantasy books about men in flowy white shirts on ships, some hot and heavy scenes that would make a nun pass out. But they all ended up with the man saving the woman and passionately kissing her. Demanding she marry him.

One day he was so invested that he forgot the time. Y/N was unlocking the door and he nearly tripped on the carpet putting the book back on the bookshelf.

Grabbing the dictionary, he barely reached the couch before she got inside.

“Honey! Im home”, she shouts out.

Acting surprised, he lifts his head, “Oh! Hi! You’re off earlier.”

She walked in clutching four paper bags, clearly struggling. “Yeah, the cafe was super dead so I locked up early. The weather was nice so I thought I might walk.”

He hopped up in a flash. “Let me help you with those”

She twisted away in rejection. “You need to take it easy. The doctor said no heavy lifting. Anyways, so I remember we needed bread so I dropped by the grocery store and I was shopping hungry. So, now im making chicken alfredo for dinner.”

“I wouldn't call bread and milk ‘heavy’ but”, you put up his hands in surrender, “you’re the boss”

“Can you set the table”, she shouts back, making her way to the kitchen. “Did you feed Avery!?”

“Once this morning, and a little bit before you got here,” he says placing the dictionary back on the shelf.

“You hear that, little girl? You’re dad already fed you. Hey! Don’t yell at me, young lady!”. She’s yelling at the cat again, he thinks. Javi laughs to himself. I couldn’t love her more than I love her, right here, right now. He feels for the ring in his pocket. It’s gotta be today.

----

Y/N

You’re faking a positive attitude for him. You’ve been running yourself ragged all day. You had multiple wrong orders. Lemon tea in espresso, mistaking heavy cream with half and half. So when the midday rush clears, you decide to close up early. Some fresh air will do you good. It’s been a long week without Maria and you are bone tired. Cooking might be the stress relief you need right now.

Javi was acting weird. He’s been different since the accident. You can blame it on some kind of PTSD but that doesn't seem like the only thing circling his brain. Whatever it is im sure you guys can figure it out. Unless he breaks up with you.

Oh no, he’s breaking up with me.

“I found this red wine at the store and I thought I could try it out”, you pour two glasses of wine. Taking a sip, you cringe at how bitter it is. The longer you spend cooking the more the nasty thoughts get to you.

He realizes he wants better than you can give him. You down the glass.

He found someone else. You pour another glass.

He knows your secret. You down the second glass.

You start to feel woozy.

“Corizón”, he walks in. “You ok?”. He looks you in the face, searching for an answer.

“Yeah!”, you enthusiastically breathe out, “Im good!”. You give him a half-baked thumbs up.

“Here.” He comes around behind you, grabs you under the elbows, and leads you out of the kitchen and to the table. “I’ll finish dinner, you just sit there and look pretty”

You're spiraling. Javi accidentally burned his finger testing the sauce, “FUCK!”, he yells out, sucking on his digit.

He’s mad. We’re breaking up. He knows.

You try some calming breaths. In and Out. Inhale, Exhale. Now you’re tearing up. You hold your face in your hands, sobbing.

He comes walking out, just then looking up at you “Hey do you know where th- What happened? Honey, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

Kneeling, he turns your body to face him, “Heyyy…” he croons, “What’s going on?”, he’s rubbing your knee.

“It's just..” you sniffled, trying to collect yourself. “It’s been a long week and you've just been kind of distant. And I thought maybe you were mad at me for something”

He’s scanning the hurt on your face. “My love, Im not mad. I wasn’t mad. What made you feel like this?” He starts brushing circles on the backs of your hand.

You just sob a little bit more, shrugging.

“I love you… so much. In fact”, he starts patting his pockets, he’s shifting onto one knee. It's much worse, he’s proposing. TELL HIM

“Wait. Wait.”, you stretch your arms out in protest, shaking your head. “We need to talk”

Pain crosses his face. “Ok.”, he swallows, “Let’s talk”

---

“Haha, very funny. You’re a vampire”

“Immortal. None of that blood stuff”

“Immortal, who’s been living since the 1800s”

“Correct.”

“You’re pulling my leg”, he scoffs. “I get it. Big joke on the doofus”

“Im not joking.”

“I don’t believe you”

“Okay.”, you lift a single finger, running off to find the box under your bed with things you've collected over the years. One reallllllyyy old picture of you. The only one you have to remember your old life by. She looks so lively...

You hand it to Javi. He looks at it closely.

“So you have an ancestor you look exactly like”

“That’s me, in the summer of 1901. There was a giant storm on St. Simon’s beach, I was pulled under by an undertow.”

He flipped the picture, writing on the back says “The Day of the Big Storm”.

“I drowned, Javi. But before I could cross over, I was pulled out, dragged onto the sand, and resuscitated. I was”, you measure an inch between your pointer finger and thumb, “close to dying. I was 20. That’s the day my life changed. After that, I didn't age a day. I have been 20 for 74 years.”

“Do you remember who pulled you out?”

“No idea. Do you believe me?”

“I do. Just give me time. Have you been keeping this from me the whole year we’ve been dating?”, he speaks softly.

Tears start running down your face again. You’re shaking.

“I didn’t know how to tell you… I’ve never told anyone before. I usually move town before I could get close to anyone”

He’s squeezing his temples.

“This is a lot to process.”

“I know. I’d understand if you left right now”

“Goddamit. Hold your horses for two seconds.”, he gets up from the couch, pacing. “I’m not going anywhere. I just need a fucking moment.”

“Javier”, you can barely recognize your voice as it escapes your mouth. “You were going to propose weren’t you?”

He stalls. He shakes his head and utters, “Yeah” he slides his hand down his jaw. “Yes, yes I was”

“And you’re having second thoughts?”

“Yes. No. It’s not like that. Just give me a day to process this. Would you have said yes?” His brows furrow.

“I think we both need time to think about this. “, You stand up and kiss his cheek. “Hey”, you place your hand on his cheek, “We’re gonna be fine. I have to clean up at the shop anyways. I’ll see you in the morning, ok?”

You grab your coat and walk out.

#javier pena x reader #immortal au #javier pena #im sorry #hurt/comfort

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toxicanonymity · 1 year ago

Text

Bodies.

7.8k, raider!Joel x f!reader

reader has no physical description, pics are for mood

raider master | playlists: raider, sweet pea (smut) SUMMARY: Uninvited guests make a nice evening devolve into disaster, but when they're gone, Joel takes a big step 💋 A/N: follows Hunger. Ty to this ask about flirting; arm anon; @gracieispunk for the B/W pic; @xdaddysprincessxx, @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog, and others who've discussed his name, @javier-penas-wifexx420 for asks, @milla-frenchy for listening, everyone for your patience and support. @toxicfics for notifications, @toxicrecs for fic recs. WARNINGS: I8+ canon typical violence, tension, possessive/aggressive reader, angst, self-harm scare, references to skin carving scars, hurt/comfort, Joel is a little grumpy, exhibitionism, grinding, dacryphilia, leather choker, bj with ball sucking, unsafe P in V, creampie, obsessive unhealthy toxic dynamic, Joel can hold reader, reader can hang onto Joel.

Raider POV of smut.

The dog has stuck around for more than 24 hours now. He's a good dog. He’s working on a duck foot while you, Joel, and Carter eat by the fire. The evening air is cool but mild. The sky is clear.

Joel and his men spent most of the day working on the van and looking for parts. The dog sat with you while you read a book. You made a wildflower crown and put it around the dog’s neck. When one of the men walked in your direction on his way to the woods, the dog jumped in front of you and growled. Joel looked impressed.

Now the fire is keeping you toasty as the sky fades from blue to black.

“Tommy!” you call out to the dog to see if he reacts.

Carter chokes on his food, but quickly recovers. His eyes are wide.

“What’d you say?” Joel asks, ominously quiet. When you don’t respond, he reaches over to gently turn your head toward him. The look on his face makes your stomach turn.

“I thought you’d like that one since it’s a type of gun,” you explain.

“No.” He shakes his head, “I don't like it.” He lets go of your face. “Namin’ the goddamn dog,” he grumbles under his breath. He puts down his plate and stands up.

You’re afraid to ask, but when Joel silently walks off toward the woods, you look at Carter. He asks, “He tell ya anything about his family? His brother?”

Your face is hot and your tummy feels dizzy. “He said he didn’t have any family.”

Carter raises his eyebrows, then he's quiet for a moment and stares at the ground. His face becomes studious.

“What,” you ask.

“Ain't my place,” Carter looks down apologetically.

A few seconds later, watching your face, Carter adds the obvious: “I wouldn't go there.”

"Yeah," you whisper. Anything about his family. The question weighs on you. You really don't know Joel, do you?

Carter changes the subject. “He’ll come around on the dog.”

You perk up. “You think?”

Carter nods, then adds, “Sorry ‘bout Daisy,” squinting solemnly.

“Thanks,” you nod, then can’t resist asking, “Joel wasn’t. . .married, was he?”

Carter shakes his head and doesn’t elaborate. At least there’s that. But still. His family.

You're unsettled, and you try to distract yourself with other dog names, mentally going through a list. Bullet. Clover. Duck. Joel doesn’t have to know he has a name.

Apparently, Carter is thinking about the same thing. He tries to cheer you up. “Gun names, huh? Pistol, Rifle--”

“--Rifle??” You crack a smile.

“Hey, there's no bad ideas,” Carter laughs, and you giggle.

“What about Bullet–”

“--Shh,” Carter nods toward the tree line. Joel is on his way back.

As you finish eating, Carter tries to make small talk with Joel to break the tension. Joel doesn't say much. You ask Carter how he makes his jerky, and he walks you through it. It doesn't sound hard. You could probably do it yourself.

—--Carter—--

The three of you are sitting outside by the fire after dinner. You’re on Joel’s knee, and Joel slides his hand up your dress a little bit. Carter averts his eyes and watches the dog work on his duck foot, making happy little growls and wagging his tail. Hard to say whether you and Joel are about to go inside and fuck, or if Joel’s just copping a feel like he does twenty times a day.

You have Joel wrapped around your finger, and you don’t even know it. You wouldn’t know Joel’s never been like this before. You wouldn’t know Joel’s never made a girl his in the years Carter’s known him. Joel’s always been a man of focus. He’s always been a tough guy. He’s always had a temper, but at this point, he’d tear a man to shreds just for looking at you wrong. It’s scary, and it’s a lot of mess to clean up. Carter’s seen Joel do some crazy shit, but never as crazy as turning one of his own men into a scarecrow for an off-hand comment. Carter knows Joel better than anyone, and it’s clear to him that Joel is crazy about you.

The dog drops the duck foot, growls and barks, then takes off and runs toward the back of the trailer. You get off Joel’s knee to go after the dog, and Joel’s arm around your middle stops you. As Carter stands up and puts on his rifle, a high-pitched shriek comes from behind the trailer. Joel grabs his rifle off the log, and Carter says, “it’s cool,” holding his hand out. He won’t hesitate to yell if he needs Joel. “Go inside, sweet pea,” Joel tells you. You take your time going.

Carter goes around the back of the trailer and trains his rifle on two figures cresting the hill. The dog has stopped short of them and is keeping his distance, but he’s still barking and looks ready to pounce, like he’s holding himself back.

“DON’T MOVE,” Carter booms, then keeps his rifle fixed on the pair and slowly approaches them. When Carter reaches the dog, the dog’s barking fades into a low growl.

They drop their backpacks and put their hands up.

“What’re ya doin’ here?” Carter asks.

The woman clears her throat and follows it with a demure smile. “Went huntin’, came back ’n our house was taken.”

Carter nods and looks back and forth between the two of them. They’re both decent looking. Some resemblance, maybe siblings.

“What do y’all want,” Carter asks, then spits over his shoulder.

“Nothin’,” the man claims. “Just cuttin’ through on our way to the road.” His eyes pan down Carter’s shoulders and arms. Carter squares his shoulders and adjusts his grip on the gun.

Carter nods hesitantly. “Can ya hang tight for me? Don’t want ya walkin’ into gunfire.”

They nod in agreement with a hint of fear. They shouldn’t be trouble. They aren’t carrying much.

Carter walks backwards for a few slow steps, then nods and turns around toward the trailer. Carter sees you spying in the kitchen window and gives you a reassuring nod as he goes around the trailer to talk to Joel.

"They're alright, I think," Carter tells Joel.

"What do they want," Joel grumbles.

"Nothin'. . . Cuttin' through on their way to the road."

Joel nods.

“Lost their house, didn’t say who took it.”

Joel’s brow furrows and he nods. “Armed?”

“Not heavily,” Carter answers.

“Bring’em around. Let’s find out who took their house.”

“You got it,” Carter says.

—---- 🌸you 🌸 —---

You move to the window facing the yard and the fire pit with logs around it. As they walk around the trailer, you overhear that they’ve been traveling most of the day. When they stop by the fire, you wait a few minutes, thinking they’ll leave. Then they take a seat, and the woman sits on the log next to Joel’s, on the end of the log closest to him. Your chest tightens. When she smiles at him, you scoff out loud to yourself. You start to go out the front door, then stop and go to the bathroom. You look in the mirror and open the flannel. You run your finger over the faint, healed letters on your skin, and you leave your chest exposed. You adjust your thigh holster, then go outside.

When the door opens, Carter looks over his shoulder and announces, “There she is.”

Joel introduces you. “This is, uh. . .”

“Jill,” she pipes in.

“Ron,” the man nods at you.

A couple. They must be a couple. They look a little alike, but not enough to be siblings. Joel leans forward with his elbows braced on his knees, hands clasped, connecting with your eyes for a moment, sharing something near a smile before his eyes fade back to serious.

Joel doesn’t make room for you in his lap, but he doesn’t tell you to go back inside either. He looks alert and on guard. There are four logs and five of you. You sit on Joel’s log and feel satisfied when he doesn’t scoot toward Jill to make more room. He doesn’t mind you being right up against him. Carter’s on the log to your left. Jill talks about their house and what was going on when they got back from their hunting trip. Ron is quieter. He glances at Carter a few times. Jill keeps looking at Joel. She talks too much.

Jill says they saw Infected behind the trailer park. Joel and Carter look at each other. Your stomach twists, but you study her face, and you don’t trust her. Attention. She wants attention. She wants Joel’s attention. Joel is better than Ron – bigger, stronger, better looking. There were no Infected. She’s making it up for attention.

Everyone is quiet for what feels like a full minute. You look her dead in the eye and break the silence with a soft, matter-of-fact, “No you didn’t.” Joel gives you a cautionary look, and you add, “We would’ve seen'em. We were there yesterday.”

Jill raises her eyebrows, bemused. “Just one,” she admits with a little smile. “My brother took care of it.” She nods to Ron, and the fact that they’re siblings makes you hate her.

“Where,” Joel asks flatly. You wish he wouldn’t speak to her at all.

“Woods behind the junkyard,” she answers. “Thought ya’d wanna know,” she shrugs. It’s quiet again. Nothing but the fire crackling and the dog growling happily.

“Thanks,” Carter mumbles.

Jill’s gaze lingers on Joel. She seems pleased with herself. Joel looks away, sits back, and crosses his arms. Now she’s checking out his arms as they bulge out with his hands under them. Your heart races. Anger simmers under your ribs.

"Bet ya could handle anything that comes over that hill," she purrs at Joel. Your nostrils flare. Your eyes are glued to her. You don’t blink. She looks at Joel’s pants and wets her lips. Your heart skips a beat. It feels like a personal attack. You pop up from the log.

Joel makes room in his lap and looks at you as he replies, "Carter here could handle'em, too,” with a nod to his left.

Joel must have expected you to sit on his knee like you were before they showed up. He clears his throat as it becomes clear you’re going to fully straddle him. His nose twitches and his eyes sparkle. He puts his arms around you loosely. His hands rest on your back to help you balance. You scoot closer and he helps you settle in so your crotch rests on his. Your head is in the crook of his neck, facing toward Jill to keep an eye on her. It doesn’t take long for a familiar bulge to twitch under you.

Your arms are around Joel. Your hand runs over the handgun in the back of his pants, and he tenses.

Jill has the nerve to speak again. “That can’t be comfortable,” she laughs.

“You can’t be serious,” you snap back.

“Shhhh,” Joel whispers into your hair. “‘S’okay, baby.”

“I’m comfortable,” you tell Joel.

“I know, sweet pea.” He nuzzles his nose at the top of your ear. “‘s’okay, baby,” he whispers. You rock your hips into him, feeling him grow harder. He pulls you tight, adjusting your weight. He moves one hand to your thigh. You grind yourself into him and he lets out a little “mm.”

“Um, okay,” she mumbles in disgust.

You snarl and turn your head away from her, back toward Joel. Then you turn your head toward Carter. Carter is absentmindedly examining the bite on his hand. Ron is spaced out, watching Carter’s face. Then, his eyes fall down to Carter’s lap.

“You’re bit,” Jill announces. “Ron, he’s bit!”

Ron snaps out of his daze, sits up self-consciously, and when his eyes fall on Carter’s hand, his face hardens.

Carter protests, “It’s not–”

“--It was the dog,” your head snaps back toward Jill. “It doesn’t look anything like Infected.” She just wants attention. She wants drama.

“It was the dog,” Joel repeats, unamused. It sounds like a warning. Joel’s hand on your thigh nudges the gun loose from your holster. Your hand wraps around the handle of the gun in the back of Joel’s pants.

“Lemme see it,” Ron demands. He stands up and points his gun at Carter. He snarls with a look of disgust. His face has completely transformed since a moment ago.

“SIT DOWN,” Joel booms and grabs the gun out of your holster.

Carter starts to offer, “I’ll show-”

“No ya won’t,” Joel snaps as he stands up with you still wrapped around him. Joel points the gun at Ron. “Come into my yard, orderin’ us around?” Joel’s deep voice vibrates in your ear, then he whispers, “Go inside,” as he tries to let you down. You take the gun out of the back of his pants. “Inside, now.” You put your feet on the ground.

“Nobody owns this land,” Ron laughs.

“C’mon, man, y’all know how it works,” Carter seems to try to de-escalate. “Show some respect.”

You slowly, carefully recede into the shadows, but you don’t go inside.

Jill points her gun at Carter and demands, “Show us.” With everyone else’s eyes fixed tensely on each other, you can approach her from behind, undetected. Two guns are pointed at Carter and one at Ron. Carter reaches for his rifle, and Ron braces his own gun with both hands. Ron cocks the hammer, and you quietly approach Jill from behind.

Ron adjusts his finger on the trigger, and Joel shoots him in the head. Jill screams.

It all happens in an instant: You lunge forward, tackling her to the ground, making her drop her gun. You could shoot her in the head, but something makes you toss your gun aside. You can't stop yourself from putting your hands around her throat. She claws at your chest and breasts. She slaps you, and it stings. You elbow her in the face, keeping one hand on her neck. She keeps clawing at you. “Stupid whore,” she spits.

“I'm only his,” you snap back. She laughs. “And he’s mine,” you pant and put your palm over her face, covering as much of it as you can, putting all your weight on her. Before she can bite you, Joel’s massive hands are firm around your arms, pulling you off. You resist, and he wraps an arm around your middle.

“‘S’okay,” he repeats as he pulls you off, and lifts you into standing. “Go inside.”

You hesitate and he firmly adds, “Now. I'll handle this.” He gives you a look that says he means it. Then he turns his attention to Jill. She coughs as you walk away. She whimpers and plays up how injured she is. Pathetic.

“Hey,” Joel’s voice softens for her. “You’ll be alright,” he tells her. You glance back and he’s what? He’s straddling her. He has his hands on her face. Is he . . .stroking her hair? You can’t see well enough. Your chest burns, and you start to turn around completely, wanting to approach them.

But Carter whispers, “C’mon, let’s go,” and gently takes your elbow.

Maybe it’s for the best. You walk with Carter in a daze. Maybe you were seeing things. No, Joel is comforting her. Your Joel is straddling and comforting the woman who just slapped you and called you a whore.

“It's okay,” Joel reassures Jill again, then you hear the loud crack of her neck snapping.

You feel a lot of things. Joy, relief, guilt–not for being happy, but for doubting Joel.

Carter opens the trailer door and you go inside.

For a few minutes, you just sit at the table. Your relief at Jill’s demise quickly fades when you realize she died thinking Joel liked her. Joel acting sweet with her even for a few seconds was more than she deserved.

Now you can't calm down. All your muscles are tense. You start to cry, then you go to get a glass of water. Your hand is shaking and you can hardly hold the glass. You want to throw it, but you put it down, still empty, on the counter. You take a deep breath, bury your mouth in your shoulder, then scream as loud as you can, until you're out of air and your throat is sore. You cough and spit over the sink, nauseous from the effort. Then you slump down onto the kitchen floor in tears.

Almost as soon as you hit the floor, the front door opens. It's not Joel, it's Carter.

“What happened?” Carter rushes over to you.

“Where's Joel?”

“Haulin’ a body.”

“Which body? Don't let him touch her!”

He looks at you, stunned for a second, then says, “Not hers.”

“You promise?” you try to choke back tears.

“God damn, you're both losin’ it,” Carter mutters to himself. Then he hesitantly reaches for your shoulder. “Shhh, it's okay.”

You lunge toward him on your knees and let yourself fall onto his chest. He looks over his shoulder then hesitantly hugs you. “Okay,” he whispers with his hands very lightly touching your back but not resting their full weight. He gives you a moment, then clears his throat. “I've gotta. . . ” He lets go, stands up, and fills the glass of water. “Here.” He puts it on the table, then comes back to you.

“Been a long day, huh?” Carter asks. He squats down and takes your elbow in his hand. “C’mon.” You wipe your eyes on your flannel and stand up. He guides you to the table with his hand on your back and pulls out a chair for you. He leaves you at the table with your water.

—--

You sit there for a minute, sipping your water. Then go to the bathroom to splash your face. You stop crying. You fix your hair. But your eyes are still misty. You look at your chest in the mirror. She scratched you. You can see a couple of her scratch marks better than Joel’s name. Your chest heats up as you stare at it, and your heart beats faster. You take calming breaths. You want her to go away. You don’t want anyone on your skin but Joel. You dab your chest with a cold washcloth. The worst scratch is right over the ‘J’.

You open the medicine cabinet, don’t find anything useful, and close it. You go to the kitchen and find a pocket knife in one of the drawers. You bring it back to the bathroom and open the sharpest blade. What if you just. . .if you make the ‘J’ a little better, maybe. It’s like she goes away. How should you do it? You look down at yourself. You can’t really see. You look in the mirror and bring the knife to your chest. The hand-eye coordination is hard in the mirror.

You’re looking in the mirror, holding the pocket knife in your hand, when the front door opens and slams shut. Joel’s boots thud, then stop. He says your name. “You okay?”

You sniffle. He approaches the bathroom door. It's not shut. You move toward the door to shut it, but you're too late. Joel stops it from closing. He's so much stronger than you, he pushes it open with ease, then his arms wrap you in a hug and the force of it walks you backward toward the sink.

You still have the knife open in your hand. As his arms tighten, you whisper, “Careful,” and hold your hand away.

He pulls away, looks you over, and looks at your hand. “Hell are ya doin’,” he mutters.

You turn back toward the mirror and stroke the ‘J’. “Making it better?”

“Makin’ it. . .”

Your eyes water again as you face the mirror fully. Joel turns toward the mirror, too, standing behind you. You run your fingers over your chest with one hand and hold the knife with the other.

Joel's face changes when he realizes what you're doing. He grabs your wrist so hard you reflexively drop the knife and it clatters into the sink. “No.”

He picks it up, closes it, and puts it behind the faucet. He looks at your face in the mirror. “Can't let ya do that.”

“You said people can’t see it.”

“Told ya we’d figure somethin’ else out.”

“Like what?”

Joel runs his hand over your chest, and his thumb lingers on the scratch over the J. His nostrils flare, his head tilts down, and his eyes darken under his brow. “This from her?”

You nod.

Joel sighs and steps over to the bathtub. He starts a shower. He takes his shirt off over his back. You back away toward the door, and start to give him some space.

“Whoa, nuh-uh” Joel stops you. “Did I say leave?”

“Sorry.”

“Take your clothes off.” He sits on the toilet to untie his boots, then slips out of them and takes off his socks.

“Ya know, ya came out there. Got her all worked up,” he grumbles. What? That’s not fair.

“I just wanted you.”

“You were starin’ right at her, sweet pea.”

“I just wanted to be on you, wanted to touch you,” you insist.

“She wanted her grubby hands on you.”

“You think that's what she wanted?”

“And she got it, didn't she?” Joel asks rhetorically, eyes fixed on your chest again. He clenches his jaw at the sight of her touch. He nods toward the shower. “That’s yours.”

“Can I have a bath?” You know it’s a long shot. He’s not in the mood to wait for water to boil.

“Fire's out and we’re outta gas. Gonna be cold either way.”

You brace yourself for the water. Joel remains seated on the closed toilet and holds your hand to help you balance as you step into the tub. You're far enough back that the water only hits from your abdomen down. It's not quite as bad as you expect, but gives you a chill all over. He scans your body as it prickles in goosebumps and your nipples pebble. He reaches behind you for the soap, then lathers a washcloth. He starts with your chest. The scrape stings.

“She wanted you, not me,” you mutter, wincing at the echo of your own words under the light beating of the water. Joel slows down and you continue, “She was looking at you, not me.” He stops the washcloth on your clavicle. Lather pours between your breasts and trickles down your sternum.

Joel squints at you, looks from your mouth to your tits, swallows, and refocuses on the task, adjusting the washcloth in his hand.

“Don’t gotta worry ‘bout that, sweet pea,” he murmurs and begins to slide the cloth slowly across your skin.

It’s nice to hear, but it’s not enough. Your eyes feel weak. “Well, I do worry about it,” you croak and feel the tears coming back.

He adjusts himself, then sighs. “You always cry in the shower?”

The coldness stings.

“Are you mad at me,” you ask shakily.

Joel curses himself under his breath. His brow furrows at your breasts and he braces his wet hand on his knee. “No, baby.” His eyes rise to meet yours, and he cups your cheek. “No. . .Just tired. . .” He searches your face. “Too many bodies in those woods. Gettin’ old.” You sniffle. You start mentally going through the bodies, and your head hurts at the thought. Joel says, “and ya can’t get in my shot like that, sweet pea.” You relax a little more. Your tears wane at the thought that he was already planning to kill her.

Joel stands up, hands you the washcloth, and starts to undo his jeans. You watch his pants come down over his crotch, a sight that always makes your breath hitch. “Face the water,” he mumbles, and you obey, staying far enough back not to get your head wet. He braces his hand on the far wall of the shower and steps in, squeezing between you and the back of the tub. You inch forward to make room. His feet are spread around yours and his hands rest on your hips for a moment. He presses his lips into the crown of your head, then reaches around your front to take the washcloth from you.

Joel presses himself up against your back, then continues to wash your chest. He soaps up your breasts again, then cradles one with his bare hand as he washes your trunk. You look down and watch the suds slide down your body. He washes your hips, your thighs. You’re grateful for the warmth of his groin against you. He turns you to the side and washes your sides, under your arms, your back, your ass, your legs. Then he tells you to rinse off while he washes himself. He steps all the way under the cold water without so much as flinching. When he’s finished, he rinses off, turns off the water, and wraps you in a hug. The water rolls off your skin and the faucet drips as you stand there in his arms.

After a few minutes, Joel’s deep voice slices through the silence. “Carter's stayin’ tonight. Wait here.” This unsettles you because you imagine Joel must be worried about something to have Carter stay. Did he believe her about the Infected?

Joel wraps a towel around himself and leaves you in the bathroom with your own towel. You look in the mirror for a moment, then quickly avert your eyes from your reflection.

Joel returns with clothes for you. He’s in plaid pj pants and a white t-shirt. Both are too small on him. His pockets are puckered. You smile at the sliver of skin between his pants and shirt, and he asks, “What?”

You shrug. “You’re wearing pjs.”

“Yeah? Well I ain't wearin’em long,” he murmurs and you feel a twitch of need. “You're gonna finish what ya started out there.” He looks at you darkly. “Got it?”

You bite your lip and nod as desire throbs between your legs.

“That means I ain't doin’ it, you are.”

Your chest flutters with butterflies.

He rests a flannel on his shoulder, while he holds up your nightie for you. You lift your arms and he puts it over your head. He pulls it down and pats your butt. “Want it that bad. . .” He holds the flannel up for you and you stick your arms in. He brings his mouth to your ear. “Gonna show me how bad.”

The front door opens and shuts.

“All good?” Joel yells.

“All good,” Carter answers, then exaggerates a loud yawn.

“Blankets in the closet,” Joel yells.

Joel brushes his teeth and leaves you to get ready for bed.

Joel returns just as you're finishing up. He shoves his hand in the puckered pocket of the pj pants and pulls out something brown and strappy that looks small in his hands. It looks like a piece of your holster, but thinner, more delicate. His brow furrows at it and he swallows. He sits on the closed toilet seat again.

“What is it?” you ask.

“It's. . .” He looks at your chest. “C'mere.” You step forward. He holds the object against his thigh and with his other hand, he traces the letters on your chest. “It's better than tryin’ to . . .” he trails off. He looks at your face, then back to your chest and caresses it again. “Better than this.” Your heart swells. He doesn’t want to hurt you. He doesn’t want you to hurt you.

He looks at the object in his lap.

“It's for me?”

He nods. He takes a deep breath and fiddles with the belt-like closure. “Can wear a sweater or whatever, and still. . .”

“Lemme try it on.”

He searches your eyes. “Really want to?”

You nod.

He stands up and guides you to the sink. He stands behind you as you both look in the mirror. He wraps it around your throat. Your breath hitches when you see his name in careful, bold lettering, clear but imperfect. It’s an odd sensation, having something around your neck, but the back of it is soft against your skin. It’s smoother and more delicate than the holster is on your thigh.

“It's beautiful,” you tell him as he concentrates on putting it on you.

He's gentle and careful. He fastens it with enough room to breathe and swallow. You look at it in the mirror, and the fact that he made it makes you emotional. “You made it,” you whisper.

He nods. “Don't gotta wear it all the time, but-”

“I love it.”

“Yeah?” he turns you around with his hands on your hips, and his gaze devours your form from head to toe. “Well, God damn. . .Looks good on ya, too.”

You wrap your arms around him and he hugs you close. He leans back to see you wearing the choker. “Let's go to bed.”

—-—--

You take off the flannel and get in bed. You bury your head in your pillow. Joel wraps you in his legs and arms, muscles straining his pajamas as he holds you in the dim room. His big, warm hand strokes your back. His body is like a furnace. You take deep breaths. In his bed, in his arms, you finally feel like you can breathe. His arms feel like home in a way that nearly overwhelms you. These are the arms that took you. They hurt you and pushed you away. Would they still? These arms hold you and care for you. They comfort you and kill for you. You hope they never let go.

It doesn't feel like you were ever really home before him, and it's impossible to imagine an after. There is no after. You're his. In the cruel, awful world, he carved out this space just for you. He kisses your forehead. You pinch your eyes shut and a tear runs down your cheek. It's a tear of relief. You press your cheek into his white t-shirt and his warm package twitches against you. He pushes his hips into you only slightly, and keeps holding you. You focus on his breathing and the beat of his heart.

You wedge your hand between your bodies. Your knuckles slide down your abdomen, and your palm skims his tummy on its way to his pants. You cradle the warm bulge in his flannel. You press your palm into it and he grunts softly as he presses his hips forward. Then he wraps an arm over you. He rolls onto his back, taking you with him. You're on top of him, and your heart flutters as his words from the bathroom echo. That means you’re doin' it.

You come to your knees, and he watches you curiously as you straddle him. You lower yourself so your panties meet his flannel, and the warmth of his bulge sends a shock to your chest. You lightly grind against him and watch his chest rise and fall as his cock swells against your neediest place. His hips lift and his eyes gloss over as he watches you move on him. You must be a vision – swollen, misty eyes, scratched up chest – but the look on his face says you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

That means you're doin’ it.

You scoot back so you’re straddling his thighs. You bring your hand just above his waistband, and your thumb traces his happy trail up under his t-shirt to his belly button, bringing the shirt up with you. You use both hands to push it up and he asks, “Want this off?”

“It's okay,” you shake your head. “Just like to see this. You slide your hand down his stomach, once again running your thumb through the hair leading to his groin. You run your hand slowly up and down it a few times and feel his muscles tense under the light padding of his tummy. The bulge in his pants becomes more of a tent. His tummy flexes as he rises up enough to take the shirt off anyway.

“What else ya like?” He asks. By now, he knows. Oh God, does he know. But he must want to hear it. He must want to see it, feel it. He wets his bottom lip. You back up down his legs and take his flannel pants down. His cock bounces free, and for a moment, you dismount him entirely. Once the pjs are down below his knees, he kicks them off the rest of the way as you take off your underwear. He sucks in air through his nose as he watches you. He's still, and he’s quiet, but the look on his face is more pain than patience.

You straddle his legs, bend at the hips, and rest your elbows on either side of his hips. You take his cock in one hand, then bring your lips to the head. He's still not at full mast. Not for him. For another man, this might be as hard as it gets, but not Joel. You suck the tip into your mouth. A masochistic part of you imagines how many women might have sucked this cock. You have, too, of course. But you want to outdo them all. You suck as much of it into your mouth as you can, and he sucks in a shaky breath as you furrow your brows and close your eyes. You suck from the back of your mouth, and your throat gurgles obscenely as his tip nudges it, then you gag. His hand rests gently on the side of your head. “You’re okay.”

You lock eyes with him as you slowly let his shaft out of your mouth. A string connects your lips to his tip until you wipe your mouth with the back of your wrist. You hold his shaft in a loose fist, thumbing his dorsal vein as you turn your attention to his balls. You cup his balls, then lick a stripe up the seam of his sack, and his hand grips the fitted sheet. When you look up at him, he releases the sheet. Your tongue circles his left nut and he closes his eyes. You have your free hand braced on his upper thigh, near where it meets his torso, and you can practically feel the blood rushing to his cock. His eyes meet yours again, and his brows are furrowed.

“Can I have them in my mouth,” you ask and he nods encouragingly.

You take one into your mouth and circle your tongue around it. You let it rest on your tongue then give it a gentle suck and he breathes, “oh God damn.” It’s fuzzy and soft and feels nice in your mouth.

You pinch your eyes shut and sigh, “Mm,” with your mouth full. You move to the other one, careful and gentle. “Ohh,” he moans a little louder than you expect, and you pause.

You look toward the bedroom door nervously, and take your mouth off. You’re about to remind him about Carter, but he cuts you off, “Shhh,” before you can.

You lick all around his balls again, and his cock throbs angrily in your hand. You suck a ball into your mouth. You want both, but there’s no way you can do it without scraping him with your teeth, so you don’t.

Instead, you return your lips to his tip and feel yourself throbbing as you suck his shaft into your mouth. When you look up, he’s shaking his head no.

“This aint what ya wanted, baby.”

“Is it good?” you ask.

“Yeah. It's good, sweet pea. . .The best.” His thumb brushes your temple. He moves his fingers to tilt your chin up to look at him. “But this ain't what ya want *really* want.”

“Wanna make you feel good.”

“Yeah? You were bouncin’ on my cock out there, just to make me feel good?”

You twitch and swallow and your chest flutters with desire.

“What’d I tell ya in the bathroom?”

“I'm gonna finish what I started”

“That’s right,” he nods.

His cock is raging hard. You’re throbbing and gushing for it. You give the tip of it one last kiss, then get up on your knees and take your time positioning yourself over it. You press his tip against your most sensitive place for a moment and let out a whimper. The contact makes you ache for him.

—

Joel cradles the backs of your thighs as you hold his cock. You look down as you move forward just a little more, then nestle his cockhead at your dripping hole, the very tip of it prodding just barely inside. You’re more than wet enough. You brace your hands on his tummy, near the bottom of his ribs. Then, you begin to sink down with a whimper, letting his cock spread you open. He growls, “God damn.” You're biting your lip, with his big cock stretching you already.

He nods, “go on, you can do it.” You lift yourself up and bend slightly forward, tilting your hips. He sucks in air through his teeth. He grabs your hips, and you groan as he pulls you down. “Fuck,” he breathes heavily. He loosens his hands on your hips, then moves them to your thighs. You sit still on his cock with your body angled slightly forward, your clit pressing into his pubic hair. You savor the fullness and the way your body makes space for him.

You brace your hands on his chest and begin to move yourself. “Good girl,” he whispers with a gentle thrust of his hips. You whimper as his length nudges deep inside, and his hips lift you.

You lift your ass and let most of his length out, before swallowing it up again and moaning with the delicious stretch. You slowly move yourself, and when you whimper, you feel his nipples harden under your hands. You palm his pecs as you ride his cock. His chest rises with deep breaths as you fuck him. His eyes keep drifting to his name wrapped around your neck.

You try to be quiet, biting your lip, but you still let out little moans, you can't help it. So does he. “Ohhh, baby—ohh.” His sounds are desperate, from deep in his chest.

“Ya do it good,” he whispers. He cradles your ass in his massive hands and begins to move you on him, a little faster than you were going. He watches your breasts move under your nightie. He lifts up the hem of your nightie to watch your cunt swallow his length, and he groans softly. You pause and take it off, then start moving again.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, then his hands return to your ass, gently guiding your rhythm. He clenches his jaw, and you can tell he's trying not to take over entirely.

“C’mere a minute,” he murmurs.

His tummy pudges and wrinkles over his flexing abs, and his fingers dig into your ass cheeks as he sits up. He wraps his arms around you and turns to face the edge of the bed with his legs hanging off. “Hang on,” he murmurs. “Hang on, baby.” He holds your back with one arm, stands up slightly, and pulls at one of your thighs. You adjust your position so you’re seated instead of kneeling and your bent legs wrap loosely around him. Without the leverage of your knees on the bed, it’s up to him.

You have your arms around his neck and your face against his cheek. Your lips pull like a magnet to the skin just below the dark, curly hair on his head. You plant a kiss on his neck and suck lightly. He exhales vocally. He hugs you into him and moves you up and down. He’s doing it all now. You both sigh and moan as his cock fills you up.

Then, he loosens his arms and slides his hands to your shoulder blades. He hooks his thumbs under your arms and breathes, “Lemme see ya for a minute.”

You hesitantly let him pull you away from his body, missing the heat of his chest against yours.

“Ain't gonna drop ya, sweet pea.”

You relax some of your weight into his hands, and he brings you all the way down so you're lying face up with your lower back on his lap. His hands under your arms hold you steady as he thrusts into you, like your body is a warm, wet sleeve for him. You let your head fall back in pleasure. He grunts as he moves you, and you look again to see him snarl. He looks down and watches his cock disappear again and again.

“God damn you feel good,” he whispers. His eyes roam from your eyes to your lips, to your choker, to your tits. He watches where your bodies are joined as he keeps thrusting into you, making you feel like no one ever has. Then his eyes drift up your body again. He slows down. His hands tighten, and he grunts as he brings your body upright again. Your breasts meet his chest. Your arms wrap around his neck again as he hugs you. Your cheek rests against his jaw, and his scuff scratches you pleasantly. “Always so good,” he breathes, moving you on his cock. His breath is warm against your ear. “Ohh baby,“ he sighs.

He tilts his chin to look up at the ceiling, and you latch onto his neck. He braces a hand on the bed and his hips lift under yours as you grind your body into his. “Yeah,” he sighs. “Oh, God, baby. You're–you’re so good for me,” he pants, barely above a whisper. “Ohhh–so good, sweet pea.”

You release his neck with a whimper. He cradles your head with one hand, and his cheek returns to yours.

As you ride him, his head slowly drifts back, so his breath is on your cheek instead of your ear. Your lips are dangerously close, and Joel doesn't pull away. Your mouths get closer while your bodies move as one. Soon, the corners of your lips are touching. You breathe and moan against each other's mouths. Your lips tingle at the closeness, and all you want is his mouth on yours. It feels so close. The sides of your mouths move against each other. It’s enough, just feeling his lips. You want more, but it’s enough, for now. He pulls his head back, and your heart barely has time to sink before he leans his forehead against yours and cradles the back of your head. Your mouths loosely connect, with his lower lip hitching on your upper lip every time you slide down his cock. You breathe each other’s breath. Your noses touch. His bottom lip tenses, and his mouth follows yours, not letting your lips slip away. You moan softly against his mouth, pinching your eyes shut, resisting the urge, resisting it.

Then, Joel presses his open lips against yours. His lips drag lightly, clockwise, then they truly embrace you. As your mouths seal together, you half-moan, half-whine, “Mmm.” His lips are strong and desperate, pulling on yours like a hug. You can feel him taking your air and your spit. He sucks it right out of you, replacing it with an even more desperate need for him. You’re having him, you’re having all of him, but you can never have enough. Arousal floods your body. It gathers deep in your gut and bubbles up to your chest. You take a deep breath through your nose as his tongue slowly thrusts into your mouth and finds yours. His cock is in your tight, wet cunt, and his tongue is in your soft little mouth. You throb and twitch on his cock, and you're nearly overcome. Your whole body simmers. He wraps his arm tighter around you, and your tits smush against him as he kisses you hungrily, and you kiss back. It’s real, it’s really–it’s real. His hand slides down to grip the back of your neck as your mouths move together, drawing each other in, deeper and deeper, like you need it to live.

“Mmmm,” you whine at your imminent peak.

“Mm,” he grunts into your mouth as you twitch again on his cock. His tongue slides against yours, and the tension boils over violently, erupting from your core out to every inch of your body. Your walls clench, and you don't want to let go of his mouth, but your body jerks. Your lips begin to break away with a moan as you spasm on his cock. He holds you there by your neck. Your mouths stay half connected, and you breathe and moan against each other. Time freezes and waves of pleasure ripple through your core. Then, Joel’s thick cock twitches in the embrace of your spasming cunt. “Ugghh,” grunts, then his lips take yours again. “Mmmm.” He erupts, and you're still not finished. He holds you still, holds you tight. His hips lift slowly into you as his cock pulses. Massive bursts of warmth flood your core, and he kisses you slowly but needily as he comes. The kiss becomes sloppy. You both breathe through your noses, but your mouths still disconnect for split seconds, breathing each other’s humid breath.

When Joel finishes emptying his load into you, he gently pulls his lips from yours to take a deeper breath. He leans back and collapses on the bed. You sit there on his cock, still twitching, and your hand drifts to your tingling lips. His hands rest on your thighs. You watch his chest expand with air, and you watch his face. He opens his eyes, then silently motions c’mere with both hands. You fold at your hips and hug him. As you settle in, he strokes the nape of your neck. His chest rises and falls under your cheek. He unfastens the leather choker for you. You were planning to sleep in it, but now that he’s kissed you–and it was more than that, it felt like more–you don't feel quite as desperate for the tangible reminder that he wants you. You have it. Your lips are buzzing. Your whole body is. You can feel it in your bones.

After a few minutes of caressing you, Joel murmurs, “Let's get some sleep.”

You both get under the covers. He lies on his back. You’ve never seen his face so peaceful. You rest your head and half your body on him. You rest your hand on his chest. He strokes your back. Then, he lays his other hand on top of yours.

Soon, you drift off to the sound of him lightly snoring.

----

Raider POV: The Kiss

----

So, I was writing this one when I took the detour to let Carter jack off lmao: He's only human.

Thank you so much for reading and engaging. I really appreciate your support and patience and love for these characters. Out of all my characters, it means so much to me when you engage with raider Joel because I pour a lot of myself into this one and have been writing it for >8 months.

Love you all so much! I can't respond to everything without spamming but I appreciate all of your commentary so much and often revisit it when I need inspo.

I hear you about notifs not working, i hear you about tags not working (i'm not getting a lot of my tags either). consider checking my fic notifs blog @toxicfics or the "latest fics" on my profile header once in a while to see what you might have missed.

: @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @may-machin @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading

Raider: @randomhoe @princessloveweird @mugshotqueen @anas-dreamer @eggnox @dindjarins-brown-eyed-girl @tulipsatmidnight @imaginary98 @neobanguniverse@quietlyignoringyou @gab-thelamb-onthemoon

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #dark!joel miller #raider!joel miller #raider!joel #raider joel #toxicanonymity ☠️#raider!joel ☠️#cw dubcon #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #dark fluff #dark sweet pea

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chaotic-iguana · 1 year ago

Text

Sleep

Summary: Reader suffers from lack of sleep, caused by a recent event. As she continues to overwork herself, she reaches her breaking point with near disastrous results. Starring concerned!steve murphy, chaotic idiot!steve murphy and clueless!reader. javi has my fucking heart though.

Pairing: Javier Peña x reader (no use of y/n though)

Rating: M

Wordcount: 2.2k

Warnings: fluff, mild angst, sort of a panic attack, mild MILD allusions to someone being creepy (not javi though), mild flirting, humour, lots of swearing sorry

this is my first fic - let me know your thoughts! check me out on ao3

masterlist.

“I swear to fucking god Murphy, if you don’t stop bouncing your leg against the table, I’m slamming your head right into it” is the gospel that flows out of your mouth at 7 am on a Monday morning. Feels like it’s gonna be a great week.

“The hell did I do? You’d think Connie’s cookies would be enough to get you animals off my back, but no, first sign of any damn fire an’ the first person you’d throw in?” Steve huffs. “Murphy”, he repeats mockingly. You scoff and roll your eyes at him, clenching and unclenching your fists in an attempt to talk yourself down from strangling the idiot situated two feet to your left before turning back to the paperwork in front of you. The one-foot-tall, monster stack of paperwork. Right. In. Front. Of. You. And would the golden boys ever do it themselves? If they ever got a moment’s relief from jacking each other off during missions (or however the hell they manage to fumble practically every single little op), maybe. But most of the time, you were stuck with it. Because god forbid the two princesses you were partnered with ever had to so much as lift a pen themselves. Hell would freeze over.

And it isn’t like you mind. At all, really. Half your job is the paperwork, and you’re happy to get it in order - if only to avoid Noonan’s wrath. Besides, what good is an agent if they can’t do their fucking job? In its entirety; not the half-assed shit most of the men did around the embassy. But a single glimpse of yourself in the mirror while rushing to leave the house revealed that these past few weeks of skipping lunch breaks, going home late, and taking files home to work on have been catching up with you - sunken, bloodshot eyes, cracked lips, and bruises smudged under your eyes now, perpetually, since the nightmares had started. Anything to keep you busy, right?

Another aggravating side effect of the amount of work you had taken on apart from the usual? The constant irritation. Marlene’s new nails, Katie’s suspicious last lay, the stupid fucking demon alarm clock that never quite managed to wake you up, the busted tire, the broken coffee machine, Dave from accounting’s downright idiotic whistling, your pen running out of ink, and finally - Murphy’s bouncing knee banging the table every fucking millisecond, practically in tune with the pounding ache beginning to form between your brows. If you were a better person, you’d let these things go. Such is life, right? But since the lack of sleep, the increased workload and general mishappenings had already created this beautiful trifecta of shit just to screw you over, better people could go fuck themselves. As could Murphy. “Don’t use your wife’s cooking as an excuse. I’m telling you, make another sound and die.” you spit out, whirling in your chair because the incessant fucking banging still hasn’t stopped - just in time to catch Peña sauntering in, already smirking.

“Already nailing Murphy’s balls, cariño? Careful, I’ll fall in love, baby.” You can hear the laughter in his crooning voice as he throws it over his shoulder - but you don’t care - can’t care, beyond the spots that seem to be forming at the edges of your vision. Were your fingers always a bit tingly? Or is that a new development, like your tongue suddenly feeling thick and heavy in your mouth, like you’re choking on it? But even though your thoughts feel slow and weighed down by molasses, rage sparks brighter in your mind as Peña’s flirty nicknames and bullshit teasing registers. You push away from your desk, and shoot up from the chair, striding towards the door to get some air - or you try to - because before you know it, your vision is blinded by white and you’re breathing quick, shallow breaths as you lay on the ground trying to figure out what the fuck is happening. Distantly, you can hear someone calling your name but it sounds so far away you barely even register it. Hands wrap around your wrist, your head, attempting to stabilize you, to ground you, as you flail wildly in a panic. A low hum begins to fill your senses, forming words that sound to fuzzy to understand or care about right now, but you lean into it, something in your being telling you it’s safe.

When your sight clears, you’re curled up on the on the floor trembling. Shaking, like a scared fucking child, while Peña kneels to hold you to his chest, repeating the same few phrases over and over: “You’re okay, it’s okay hermosa. You’re safe. Safe. No ones gonna hurt you, it’s over now, okay?” as Murphy stands next to him, watching with panic and a hint of sympathy in his gaze. You scramble away from them both, panting, nearly slipping in your effort to get to your feet. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay, pretty. You’re okay” Peña repeats his assurances with his hands held out, palms facing you, as you stand on wobbling knees, wiping at your face.

“‘M fine” is all you whisper to them hoarsely before ducking your head and rushing out of the pathetically cramped room you three work in. You can hear footsteps behind you, but can’t find it in you to turn around - not even at the panicked sounds of your name being called by a familiar voice. You’re making a scene, you know it, but you don’t care. It’s all too much, and you’re too far gone. Reaching the parking lot, you struggle to unlock your car as your trembling fingers drop the keys twice. Swearing, you resolve and pick them up again, pressing them and reaching for the door. But just before your fingers find the handle another hand - much, much larger than yours - splays out on the window to stop you, just as Peña’s signature bedhead comes into view. He looks at you with wide, concerned eyes, his mouth tucked low at the corners, like he’s disappointed. You want to melt, you do, because the melting pot of emotions you have for him make you preen at his worry - but your usual defense mechanisms humble you. And so you sharpen your claws, flash your fangs, and the hackles raise again, leaving a “What, Peña?” to come tumbling out in a tone so sharp it makes you flinch. HIs frown just deepens as his gaze rakes over your form frantically, as if checking for injury. He says nothing, pursing his lips further before snatching your wrist and tugging you behind him as he stalks to his car, opening the side door. You raise a brow at him, and he counters by jerking his head towards the car, scowling slightly. You get in, slightly confused, and wait for him to walk around and get into the drivers seat. “What the fuck, Peña? I just fainted, I’m not senile. And I don’t give a shit how mad you are, you can’t just-just drag me to your car and f-force me to get in. The fuck are you playing at?” you begin to ramble, fury somehow still rising at a dizzying speed. Peña doesn’t respond, just starts driving while looking straight ahead while you continue fumbling over a panicked rant so pathetic it sounds nonsensical to your own ears. “…And what? You just enjoy calling me s-stupid nicknames? You think it’s cute to flirt with me while I’m- while I pass out?” This one makes his nostrils flare, eyes darkening a bit while his jaw tightens just for a second before letting go. You pause for a second, getting your breath while your hands still shake in your lap. “I’m fine, it’s fine. Can I just go home please? I’ve already done the month’s paperwork for all the ops we have planned, and you can just give me the rest post-op. I’m just a bit under the weather, I just need to lie down for a bit.” you start trying to reason, but the stubborn ass just keeps driving, and alarm starts bubbling in your chest again. You look down to your lap while you fiddle with your thumbs, willing to control the irrational fear yelling at you that something’s wrong every second Peña chooses to stay silent.

“Think I was flirting with you while you passed out? Y’think I don’t see it, you working yourself to the fucking bone? Think I can’t see how you’ve stopped eating, honey? Stopped laughing like you used to? Think I don’t know how late you’ve starting going home? As ‘f I’ll ever stop waitin’ for ya to clock out first so I know you’re home okay, baby. You gotta tell me what’s wrong - this is eatin’ you up.“

Peña’s tone softens, but his harsh whisper makes you turn your head to look at him. He sounds so…tortured, as if he’s the one suffering. He glances your way, locking eyes with you for a second before turning his head back to the road. You sit there and practically gape at him, your jaw slack as your head whirls. Peña knows? No, wait, he waits? For you to go home so you’re safe? He cares? What the fuck? Confused, all that comes out of your mouth is a mighty elegant open-mouthed “huh?” before you blink at him, waiting for him to continue.

“You gotta know by now, sweetheart. Gotta see how I’ve been lookin’ at you. You’re the smartest fuckin’ agent I’ve seen, with the balls to take down men I’d sweat to be ‘n the same room with. You swear like a sailor, an’ make me laugh till I’m chokin’ on my own damn cigarette. Tell me what’s hurtin’ you, honey. I can’t promise I’ll fix it, but I can swear to you I’ll damn well try my best.” He responds, turning to hold your gaze as his own eyes widen, and his brows turn down. Puppy eyes, you think.

Your brain has gone from hazy to too fucking clear in a matter of five minutes, and now it feels like your thoughts are gonna come ripping out of your head. So you just blink at him, again, before reaching an unsteady hand out to cup his cheek. “I’m okay, I swear. Just-you remember that deal I had to cut last month? With the sicario? For intel on that lab?” Peña nods, and you continue. “Fucker led me to a dead end. Ambushed me. O-only got out ‘cause his gun jammed, and his child-soldier ran away. I just-this is so fucking dumb I’ve been in worse but- I can’t get it out of my head. The shit he said to me, the way he looked at me, t-touched me. I should be dead or worse, Peña. And I nearly was.“ you look down again, ashamed of the truth that’s spilling out of your mouth. It’s so small, so weak, you just want to fold into yourself and never come out. Your voice wobbles towards the end, tears filling your eyes as you turn your head away from the man you’ve wanted for so long to save whatever dignity you still have left. “‘N I can’t sleep anymore. Just see- or feel him every time. So thought I’d work for a bit. Clearly didn’t fucking work out, though.” small hiccups have started to punctuate your words, testament to the tears now flowing down your cheeks. Peña pulls up to an unfamiliar building and turns to you.

“‘S Javi, honey. Look at me, pretty baby.” He cradles your chin between his thumb and his forefinger to turn your head towards him. “None of that was stupid, okay? Come lie down at my place. I’ll sit in a damn chair next to you and fight him away if he comes in your dreams, sweetheart, okay? Nothin’ to be ‘fraid of. Never letting any fuckers near you again.” Javi leans in to brush a kiss to your forehead before stepping out of the car and hooking his index and middle finger to beckon you too. You step out of the truck and towards him, smiling while swiping at your face. “Didn’t know this was what the girls meant every time they bragged about sleeping with you” you snark softly, with a teasing grin on your face as you reach him. Javi rolls his eyes playfully before unlocking the door.

“Ain’t gotta do no sleepin’ you don’t want to, honey. You’re here to get some rest. Be a good girl and sleep f’me, and I’ll keep you up for as long as you like after,” he throws over his shoulder with a matching grin and a wink.

#javier pena fanfiction #javier pena fluff #javier peña x you #javier peña x reader #javier peña #steve murphy #narcos fanfiction #javi #soft javi #fluff #hurt/comfort #ive never done this before let’s see how this goes heehee #javier pena fic #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena imagines #javier pena narcos #narcos #cool-iguana

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joelslastofus · 9 months ago

Text

Master list

Joel Miller

The Virgin Series

Part one

Part two

Part three

Joel suffers PTSD accidentally hurting you

After giving birth, Joel is over protective of you

Joel feels guilty after you suffer a miscarriage

Joel notices a man bothering you through his rear view mirror

Joel is assigned to assist a blind woman

You and Joel tell Ellie you're expecting a baby

Joel is forced to take Ellie when his wife is 7 months pregnant

Joel takes care of his girlfriend who suffers from anxiety and depression

Joel feels insecure with his age difference and leaves you only to find out you were SA

Joel reacts in a cruel way when finding out you're pregnant

Sarah is in college and brings home a friend Joel is secretly attracted to

Joel acts like he doesn't like you until he comes across your rapist

Joel finds out you were pregnant and miscarried while he was on a work trip with Tommy

Joel becomes protective of his alcoholic neighbor's daughter.

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

Joel sleeps with his innocent married next door neighbor after fixing her sink.

Joel continues an affair with his innocent neighbor, having a quickie in her backyard while her husband is home.

Joel deals with upsetting his overly sensitive eight month pregnant wife.

During a car ride Joel attempts to hide his erection from you along with feelings he knows he shouldn’t have for his friend’s daughter.

Joel is secretly in love with Tommy’s girlfriend and comforts her while his brother is in jail.

PART ONE

PART TWO

Joel and you have a close friendship until Sarah’s mother returns and he rudely pushes you away. He never knew you were in love with him or that he himself was in love with you until Tommy wants to date you.

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

Joel catches you reading smut

Sarah is out of town and asks her father to pick you up from a drunk night out

Joel gets locked out of his house drunk and knocks on your door

Joel sleeps with Marlenes daughter and leaves without knowing she ends up pregnant

PART ONE

PART TWO

Joel triggers your PTSD when he gets drunk

Your drunk ex comes into the Millers bar where you work looking for trouble

Javier Pena

Javier finds out his ex girlfriend is now dating one of Escobars men and trys to help her.

You are intimate with Javier for the first time after being SA

Javier gets close to you to get information and unexpectedly falls for you

You're a DEA agent who accidentally gets hurt and tries to hide it from Javi

General Marcus Acacius

Forced to marry General Marcus Acacius to save your brother

#pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x y/n #javier pena narcos #javier pena x you #joel miller fan fic #javier pena x reader

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lokischocolatefountain · 2 years ago

Text

Say No to Me

Series Masterlist

Fandom: Narcos

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Rating: 18+ (Mostly smut with a garnish of fluff)

Word count: 5.7k

Summary: It hadn’t been a good day at work for Javier Peña— what was new? She knew she could make him bury his frustrations in her, but it was taking a much more convincing than he usually needed. It didn’t matter. She liked a challenge.

A/N: He’s a hot asshole and all but I think he’s husband material with those soft eyes and pretty hair. Warning: bad Spanish.

The dinner went cold on the kitchen counter as she sat at her desk, reading through the stack of essays she had to finish grading by the end of the week. He always told her not to wait up, scolded her for staying up waiting for him in the living room even when she had to wake up early for work.

She continued to not follow his request. She was tired most nights she waited desperately for the lock to turn to let her husband in. But it didn’t feel very wifely to go to bed before feeding her husband. He didn’t expect such things of her; neither of them were traditional that way. He didn’t expect much of her really and she didn’t expect much of him. He didn’t expect her to cook and clean, she didn’t expect him to come home on time. But she still cooked when she could and he hurried home whenever he could. It was why their marriage worked.

A smile curled her lips upward when she heard the door open. “Jav—” she gasped, standing up from her chair and rushing to him. Even in their dimly lit living room, she could see the splotches of red on his shirt.

He took her hands in his before she could take his shirt off to assess his injuries. She knew his job was dangerous, but never imagined she’d see him come home covered in blood.

“It’s not mine,” he insisted, dropping her hands to hold her face with both of his. His brown eyes looked into hers, pleading with her to just believe him. It was an ‘I know I always lie about work, but I’m not lying this time’.

He pulled her close to his chest, whether desiring affection or to distract her from the blood on his shirt, she didn’t know. She knew it was just her imagination, but she could feel the blood on his shirt stain her white top. Like he was transferring his sins on to her, giving her everything he had as he said he would in their marriage vows. She imagined him leaving red on her forehead as he kissed her, red in her hair as she imaged his metaphorically bloodstained hands combing through.

To her surprise, none of it fazed her. She loved him, brown eyes, bloody hands, guilty heart and all. She should be ashamed, really, that these things only made her want him more.

“Need you to say no, mi amor,” he said, grabbing her ass over her silk pajamas. If he actually wanted her to deny him, he was doing a poor job of convincing her to do so. They did not have a traditional marriage, but just this one part could be considered a bit too traditional. They would fit right in with the old expectations for women to put out whenever their husbands desired although none of them did it as part of their rather unusual lifestyle.

He’d given her a ring to wear over her wedding ring for when she wished to give him permission to do whatever he liked with her. It was with the expectation that it would go on and come off. She never took it off, giving him explicit permission to do with her what he wished forever. That didn’t stop her from asking, begging even to say no to him. She very rarely gave in.

“Stop touching me so good then.”

On second thought, they would not fit well with those old expectations. Purely because of how good he fucked her. Why would she ever say no when he always took great care of her? Why reject touches that lit her on fire and reminded her for days to come what she’d let him do to her.

“Just grabbing your ass, baby. Not doing much,” he said, pushing her into their door and holding her there with a strong hand on her lower back.

“It’s doing things for me,” she pressed her cheek into the cold door, her eyes struggling to keep him in her line of vision as he played with her body. He pulled the silk drawers down her legs, the fabric tickling her thighs before pooling around her feet.

“Oh? You missed me that much?” He asked, casually slipping a finger inside her cunt. She whimpered as she felt him force his way in, his finger exploring her as she imagined what he had planned for her, the ways in which he’d make her scream his name.

She nodded and said, “Sí, papi.”

She heard his breath hitch at that one. Good to know he liked that…

“Say no to me, cariño…” he begged, kissing and nibbling at the skin on her neck. He stepped closer to her and reached under her top to find her breasts. Usually, his touches were gentle but now, he grabbed, groped and pinched like a greedy man who wanted to take everything for himself until there was nothing left of her. Yet he was begging to be stopped.

“Whyyyy,” she whined, fucking herself on his finger, desperate to use any part of his body she could get to make herself feel good.

“I had the worst fucking day,” he said, bending down to whisper into her ear. The gruffness of his voice drove her mad, made her want to get on her knees and beg to be used for his selfish pleasures. “You let me have you now and I’ll fuck you up, baby. I’ll fucking ruin you,” he grunted into her ear and wrapped his hand around her throat. She felt the bulge of his cock through his pants as he rubbed himself against her ass like a desperate animal.

“Ruin me then,” she whimpered, making him tighten around her throat.

“Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Please Javi, hurt me… Want you to—” ruin me

She didn’t get to complete her sentence. All of a sudden, the man who was begging her to say no to him twirled her around to face him, his hands meeting at the middle of her top and ripping it apart.

“Javi! You fucking animal! Why did you do that?”

“Quit whining,” he growled, grabbing her face in his hand and forcing her to look up at him, at his fiery eyes. She would be able to cook up a smile if not for the iron grip on her cheeks. “I bought it for you and I’ll do whatever I want with it. Just like these,” he paused to grab her tits with the other hand. “—are mine to do with as I like. ¿Eso se entiende?”

“Sí Papi,” she gasped out with the little air she could have.

“Buena chica,” he smiled, letting go of her throat and caressing her cheek. She panted, letting air back into her body after being deprived of it for a little while. Losing air for just a little while was something she enjoyed, but only if he was the one robbing her of her breaths. There was just something so sexy yet comforting about letting the man she trusted play with her breath like that. Something about putting her life in his hands and asking him to play around with it knowing that he would keep her safe.

“Don’t know what I should have first…” he trailed, his eyes roaming her body. He traced the outline of her lips with his thumb as he continued, “This pretty little mouth that knows to put me in my place when we argue but begs to be hurt when we fuck.”

“Or…” he grabbed her between her legs, laughing when she gasped at the humiliating position she was in. “This pretty little pussy that creams at the prospect of pain.”

“Whatever you want, Sir… Please, just use me. Please…” She’d rather him fuck her pussy. It had been too long since they’d been energetic enough to fuck at the end of the day. It had been too long since he made her writhe and cry in his arms as she came down from an orgasm. But she wanted him to have a choice after the rotten day he’d had, didn’t want to deny him anything. If what he wanted was to hold her head in place and fuck her face, she’d let him. It was easy making that choice knowing he’d always repay her with his head between her legs.

“Fuck, baby! Who would’ve thought, huh? Can’t believe I once thought you were just a sweet little thing, a nice respectable professor. Didn’t think I was fucking a shameless fucking whore.”

She attempted a laugh, but all she could do was let out a breath. “Wish I could say the same about you, but you have shameless fucking whore written on your forehead.”

He let out a dry laugh and tucked her hair behind her ear. She closed her eyes as he leaned in, hoping that he would kiss her. Instead, she felt the tip of his nose in between her eyebrows. She heard him breathe her in and moan as though just her scent turned him on. He traced the tip of his nose down her nose, stopping at the tip and nudging playfully.

Bloodstains forgotten, she placed her hands on him, letting herself feel his broad shoulders, strong arms and the little belly she was growing fond of despite his constant complaining about getting old. “Gonna quit this job right-fucking-now, Cariño. Gonna take you back home and fuck you all day and all night. I’ll never leave this cunt, I swear.”

“Oh? And then what?” She asked, curious about what kind of future he fantasized about for them even if it was an unrealistic product of his hard dick.

“Finally knock you up,” he said, his eyes glinting as he pushed his fingers in and out of her cunt. “Todo el mundo debería saber que eres mi esposa. Our families want us to have a wedding, but I think this will be more effective.”

“I don’t know, Papi…” she teased, playing with the buttons of his shirt. It had been a longtime wish of theirs, to settle down and have kids. But his job didn’t have seem to have an end and their plans remained something to fantasise about when they fucked or sat cuddled up on rare Sunday mornings. “I don’t want to lose my figure. Don’t want you to lose interest in me and go back to being a manwhore.”

“It’s alright, Cariño. You’ve had this figure for a while, it might be time for a change. I might just end up loving you swelling up with my baby so much that I decide to keep you pregnant.”

“That’s financially very very—” she gasped silently as he hit a sensitive spot inside her. “It’s ir- irresponsible.”

“That’s okay, we’ll handle it. I’ll keep this fucking job, climb the ladder and make us some money. As long as I get to keep you fucked out and filled with my cum. Breed you, mark you the way men have been marking their women before rings and marriage licenses. Think about that, querida…”

She clenched around him, letting him know immediately that she was imagining this scenario and liked what she saw in her head. She imagined being only his, no responsibilities in life except to please him. Oh to be nothing but his plaything, to be used for him to get off, held down and bred over and over and—

“You thinking about that, hmm?”

She nodded, grabbing the arm that was between her legs and encouraged him to go faster.

“You can’t say much anymore, can you, slut?” He taunted, pushing her hand away from his before continuing his torture. “Fuckin’ love that mouth of yours, Querida. That sharp tongue, too. I think that’s why I dragged you to the embassy and made you my wife.”

She moaned, attempting to cry his name but failing. Whatever sound she made sounded nothing like his name, sounded nothing like a human woman. She loved his mouth too, even though her obsession was with his eyes and his nose. She loved that mouth that could make her cunt cream and her heart melt at the same time.

“But I keep you 'cause I love to shut you up. Love to stick my cock in your mouth, love to fuck you stupid with just my fingers like I’m fucking you now. Only I can fuck you stupid, my smart girl. Only me. All mine, aren’t you?” He asked, taking her lips between his before she could scream that she was indeed all his. He tasted of cigarettes and whiskey, something she couldn’t stand when she was his girlfriend but craved as his wife. It was a taste she’d gotten used to, grown to love. Perhaps because it was so masculine or because she’d identified the taste as something that belonged to her, just like the man himself.

She tightened around him and he noticed, smirking at how he could play her like an instrument. She clung to his shoulders for support as he prepared to yank her world from beneath her feet. When everything was unstable, when she couldn’t trust her own two feet, he was there, holding her up and making her feel so fucking good.

“Javi…” she cried, the kinky names she had for him disappearing as all she could remember in the thrall of her pleasure was his name.

“Sí, mi amor. Estoy aquí. Mi amor, mi corazón, mi vida, mi esposa. Estoy—” he continued whispering his sweet, sweet words. As wonderful as they were to hear, she drifted away from his voice, drifted away from him. The world had turned into nothing and she was suddenly shot up into the sky, but also floating down to the earth like a feather.

His arms wrapped around her and she felt herself be carried before her back hit the soft bed.

“Was that it?” She asked, panting.

“Do you want that to be it? You tired, Querida?”

“No way,” she said, still breathless. “You promised to ruin me. I’m not letting you get off until you keep your promise. I’ll keep you up all night…all fucking night if I have to.”

He hovered over her, his gaze piercing her as he watched her tits rise and fall in her attempt to catch her breath.

“I picked a wanton whore to marry, huh?” He teased, but she was in no mood to listen to his words. She’d let him talk later as much as he wanted but not now.

“Get to work, Peña,” she said, grabbing him by his hair and leading him between her legs.

“Oh, so I’m just Peña now?” He managed to quip before being shoved closer to her cunt. “Yes Ma’am,” he grunted before licking a stripe up her dripping pussy. He pushed her thighs further apart, putting her on display for his eyes. She looked away for a second before turning her focus right back to him, shy about being exposed to him but unable to keep her gaze away from his beauty for too long.

“Taste so good, Cariño,” he said, coming up for a breath. “I could live off of eating you, three meals a day for the rest of my life.”

“Would be a short life then, seeing that there’s no nutritional value to pussy,” she quipped, earning a slap to her pussy. Her legs closed by instinct, but he spread her open again. Before the sting of his slap could fade, he slapped her again.

“Disobedient little cunt,” he spat, slapping her again. She kicked her legs around, but there wasn’t much she could do to escape his grasp as he held her in place with those strong hands of his. She felt like she could be one of the people he chased. He would be so elentless, catch and pin her down, hold her in place with his strong arms and fuck! She whined at the next slap.

He brought his hand down again and her eyes squeezed shut in preparation for the impact. It never came. Instead she felt his thumb circling her clit. She looked down at him and pushed his hair behind to find his eyes. He smiled arrogantly from between her legs, his eyes mischievous and determined to cause her a lot of pain. He provided her a few seconds of mercy as his thumb left her. She noticed her slick on his mustache, whimpering at how much more handsome he looked with her all over his face. He slapped her again and she kicked her legs, almost getting him in the process.

“Please, please Papi! I can’t—” she shrieked as he landed another one.

“You either take what I give you or we stop everything. Do you want to stop everything?” He asked and she shook her head in disagreement immediately. She didn’t want him to stop no matter how hard it got, no matter how torturous his touches became. She wanted the ruination in his arms that he promised. She wanted to be crying, to be numb when he was done using her.

He alternated between touching her clit oh so gently and slapping her when she least expected it, the pleasure and pain merging into one until she craved the pain as much as she did the pleasure. At some point, her legs stopped fighting back, resigned to her torture. Her eyes glazed over and her Javi was but a blurry image. When she came again, she may have said his name. Or not. She wasn’t sure. Her thighs shook under the pleasure and she felt him pull her into his comforting embrace where she relaxed with her eyes closed.

“—can stop if you want to. Don’t worry about me, mi amor.”

“Still not ruined. Ruin me,” she replied, dazed. She wanted to know how far he could go. She needed to feel the full extent of his power over her, to know where the limits of his power were. For her sake, she hoped there were no limits. She hoped to find out she was all his even when he fucked her thoughts out of her head and she was nothing but a pretty body.

“You missed me that much, Cariño? I made you come only twice and you’re already so fucked out?” He peppered little kisses along her jaw before moving to her neck.

“Missed you so much, Javi,” she managed to say when she once again felt stable, as stable as she could be as his puppet.

He had been away too long for her liking, leaving his side of the bed cold and empty. They were by no means the kind of couple that clung to each other, but god she missed him. She missed him between her legs, on her lap as she read to him, at the dinner table appreciating her cooking, in their kitchen washing the dishes… She missed him so much.

“I missed you, too,” he said softly, laying her back down on the bed. She refused to part with him, holding on to his hand and interlacing their fingers to keep him from getting too far away from her. Understanding her need to be close to him, he gave up on separating from her and caressed the back of her hand with his thumb.

“Ready for another round?” He asked, throwing her legs over his shoulders before diving in.

Two orgasms turned to three and three to four and so on. She’d lost count at some point, but he hadn’t lost his enthusiasm. Her body was on fire and he was the only one with the water to put it out. He had to be a cruel man for he did the exact opposite, lighting her on fire over and over and promising to put her out if she’d come for him “just one more time, Cariño”.

She felt a tear trickle down the side of her face, but his hands and mouth continued relentlessly, consuming every bit of her, body and soul. In her state of intoxication, she thought his hands were in too many places at the same time. She laid helplessly, unable to do anything but take what he gave as he forced her to surrender to him over and over and over and—

“Qúe Bonita,” he cooed, wiping the tears off her face as she sobbed. She didn’t even have enough in her to tell him to stop, to have mercy, to free her from his painful pleasures. But even if she could, she didn’t know if she would.

“Want your hole just one more time. Just once, okay? Open up,” he said, tapping her cheek with the back of his hand. She opened her mouth, grateful that he’d spared her pussy at last. She whined as he touched her again, too sensitive even for his now gentle hand. He collected the slick between her legs and smeared her all over his cock.

“Taste yourself on me, Querida. Taste what I can do to you,” he said before pushing the tip in. He placed his hand on her hair, petting her like she was a wild animal he’d tamed. He was getting her wetness all over her hair, but she couldn’t tell if it was something to be annoyed about. She couldn’t tell anything except the blissful pain in her cunt and his cock stretching her out.

He was so tender in feeding her his cock, so attuned to her responses. She didn’t even have to tell him to back away when it got too much for her. He read her so well that he knew just when to give her a breath. He knew her body better than she did, knew how to make it sing and how to make it beg, how to get it to surrender to his control.

“You look so good with my cock in your mouth. Fuck! Feel so good, baby,” he praised, the hand in her hair pushing and pulling her around his cock. Her jaw was beginning to hurt from the recent lack of practice, but she was sure he’d get her back to her prime over the week. The man had an obsession with shutting her up.

“Gonna fuck that smart brain outta that head,” he said, his quickening breaths combining with her moans and the lewd wet sounds of her mouth getting used. “Look at yourself,” he commanded, directing her to look at the mirror attached to their closet door. She caught herself, limp and useless but for her mouth. Her lips were swollen and her eyes were red. Her cheeks glistened under the light from the tears she’d shed. Her hair was all tangled up from his manhandling and her thighs had several marks the shape of his teeth. “Think your students will recognize you like this, Professor Peña? You think they know what a slut their whip smart professor is at home?”

“You think they wonder why you wear three rings? Bet none of them know that the third is just a license for me to use you up.”

She moaned around his cock as he pushed in and out of her throat, making him cry her name at the sensation. She wanted to grab a camera and take a picture of this moment to remember how thoroughly he used her.

“What a perfect fucking mouth!” He exclaimed, wrapping his other hand around her throat to feel how he stretched her out. “‘S like you were measured to fit around me, made to be my perfect little cocksucking whore.”

She clenched her throat tighter around his cock, letting her teeth graze him ever so slightly in the way that drove him nuts. Confident in how he held her up, she moved her hand from the bed and touched his balls, careful to not hurt him with her recently done nails. He twitched in her mouth and hissed at the sensation, making her smile victorious around his cock. He might think he had all the control with the way he was fucking her mouth, but it was always good to remind him that she could wipe his thoughts off his mind with just one touch.

“Gonna be fast now. Can you handle that, baby?”

She nodded, giving him all the permission he needed to forget he was fucking his wife. His thrusts were harder than they usually were, burning her throat. Her scalp stung with how mercilessly he pulled her hair. His other hand found her tits and dug in, leaving his marks on her flesh and making her cry in pain. Her jaw was sore and she knew her throat would be sore when she woke up the next morning.

She was fully out of control, having handed him the reins to her body and mind. She’d never done that with any other man before, just him. It was so easy to trust him, so easy to be content in being used as his toy knowing that he would still keep her safe. He would still respect her as his partner no matter the names he called her to get them off and the bruises he left behind on her body.

He went from coherent screams of her name to strained moans and groans. His grip on her hair slackened but he still kept going, pushing in and out of her mouth. She helped him along with her gentle touches of his balls and her sharp nails digging into the ample flesh of his ass. In no time, he was coating the insides of her throat with his cum. He pulled out too quickly, his cum now spurting out on her tear-stained face. She wished she hadn’t taken her makeup off, she would’ve made an even messier image for him with smudged lipstick and mascara running down her cheeks.

He didn’t seem to mind, looking more than just content with the sight before him. He laid her out on the bed and collapsed on top of her, placing quick kisses on her lips and her cheeks and her forehead. “Mi hermosa,” he whispered, traveling down to her shoulders and placing a kiss on her between each term of endearment. “Mi esposa, mi cielo, mi vida…Where would I be without you?”

“Doctor’s office, probably,” she chuckled. “Getting treated for STIs from sleeping around.”

He laughed and kissed her cheek, unbothered about the mess he made on her face. “Love this fucking mouth,” he smiled, giving her a quick peck.

A smug smile crept upon her lips as she said, “And you love fucking this mouth.”

“That I do, baby. Missed your mouth so much.” He bent down to kiss her lips as though proving just how much he missed it.

“Just my mouth?” She asked innocently, looking at him like a kicked puppy.

“You know it’s not just your mouth. Quit fishing for compliments.”

She slapped his chest playfully and tugged on his ear, making him shriek dramatically. “I shouldn’t have to be fishing, Javier. You should be complimenting me all the time.”

“You’re right, mi amor,” he said, taking the hand that slapped him. He brought it to his lips, kissing each finger and then her palm. He stopped at her ring finger with the three rings— a thick gold band with his name engraved on it, a thin one with a modest diamond, and nestled between them, a thinner silver that she wore to signal that he could use her as he liked. He paid the finger special attention, placing little kisses down to the tip.

He held her hand in the most gentlemanly way as he admired her newly manicured nails. “So lovely…”

“Mhmm? You like the color?” She asked, knowing very well that he did. The few times he got to accompany her to nail appointments, he always chose this shade of sparkly purple.

“You know I do. Did you remember to take money out of my drawer before the appointment?”

The man had something of an obsession with her nails, asking to see them and paint them for her. He took her to the nail salon when he could and insisted on paying. When he couldn’t accompany her, he made sure to slip some cash into her purse to pay for it.

“No, I’m sorry honey. It was a spontaneous thing with Carla.”

He tsked and dropped her hand like a petulant child who didn’t get what he wanted. She laughed and caressed his cheek with her thumb. “Are you really mad at me for this, Javi?”

“You know the rules. I pay for these nails.”

“I’m not going to argue about silly things now. I’m hungry. Go reheat the dinner and fix us a plate,” she said, shoving at his chest.

“You haven’t eaten yet?” He asked, eyebrows furrowed.

She shook her head and said, “I was waiting for you to come home. It’s been a while since we ate together.”

His eyes softened and he swallowed audibly. “I’ve been making you wait a lot, haven’t I?”

They had no expectations of each other, but he placed a lot on himself. He made promises she didn’t ask for and broke his own heart when he couldn’t keep them immediately. She wished he could be as patient with himself as she was with him. Tried as she might, she couldn’t do much to ease his worries. There was only so much a good fuck could do.

“Out of all the things you’re worrying about, our marriage shouldn’t be one. Okay?”

He looked away and nodded, but his eyes told a different story. She gently pushed his chest, getting her off of her so that she could sit up. She cupped his cheek and forced him to look at her. God, he looked so sweet, so vulnerable…

“I understand that things are terrible at work. I can see you’re worried about every goddamn thing. Work isn’t going great for me either. Our department isn’t being funded and my ass is being grilled for every— it doesn’t matter. Our home is all we have. I don’t want you to put a time on dinner and feel guilty about me waiting for you to come home. I don’t want you stressing over me not letting you pay for my nails. It’s a sweet thing you do for me, but it’s not like our marriage will be over without it.”

“Isn’t our marriage made of several small things? We do things for each other… I pay for your nails and you buy my shirts. You cook, I clean. You forgo a proper wedding and I…” he paused to sigh. “We got married at the fucking embassy and I got pulled for a raid and sent you home alone... We still can’t have kids because I’m so tied to work. We haven’t even eaten together in weeks. I’m not doing my part and I’m afraid that one day I’ll come home and you won’t be here.”

He wasn’t one to speak at length about what he felt. She could tell his feelings, see the burdens he carried just by looking into his eyes. But she didn’t know the specifics. She didn’t know he regretted not having a regular wedding. She didn’t know he was scared she would leave.

“I’m not going anywhere. And I never wanted a wedding for the sake of a wedding. You asked to be my husband and now you are. That is what you promised and that is what I wanted. I don’t care how we got there.”

“I left a woman at the altar.” He said, seemingly out of nowhere. His shoulders dropped as soon as he said it as though he’d been holding that information in for years.

“I know.”

“I never told you.”

“Laredo is a small town and your neighbors felt gossipy when I visited. I still don’t see what that has to do with this.” Once upon a time, that bit of information scared her. His ring still on her finger, she was afraid he’d stand her up too. But the woman he was supposed to marry, Lorraine, was quick to explain it away to her. If his ex was willing to clear him, she saw no point in being worried.

“I failed a marriage even before there was a marriage and now I’m failing you.”

Oh, you precious fool.

“You were young and stupid. That has nothing to do with us.”

“Now I’m older and still stupid.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. If you insist on believing that you’re failing in our marriage just because of some silly little things, there isn’t much I can do to make you see reality. I’m happy with you. I just waited a couple hours to eat with you. I didn’t fucking starve in that short time. We do these things in a marriage, Javi. You can’t take each little thing as a personal failing. You came to the campus to pick me up one evening and I was stuck in a meeting for more than an hour. Imagine if I thought I was a shit wife for that. I need you to let things go and enjoy yourself at least at home. Because all you’re doing right now is being miserable and ruining my great night with your sad little face.”

“Thank you…” he said softly, kissing her hand once again. “And my face is not little,” he mumbled.

“Oh my god!” She exclaimed, picking up her book from the side table and hitting him with it. “Go get me dinner. Pendejo.”

“So disobedient,” he teased.

“Cabrón.”

“Wow.”

“Viejo. Now go get me dinner.”

“Viejo? You’re older, Viejita.”

“By just a few months!” She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Realizing he was very much enjoying seeing her push her tits out, he dropped her arms and pulled their blanket up to block his view. “And I still look younger. You look so old people are going to ask if you’re my uncle.”

“Are they now?”

“Yeah. It’s all those worry lines. Idiota.”

“Rude.”

Before she could call him another name, he got up from the bed and walked away. She sat back comfortably and whistled as she got a good view of his bare ass and his broad back. She caught him laughing softly as he walked to their kitchen, his eyes still on her as he heated their dinner. His insecurities weren’t going to go away anytime soon. Her body would only become less prepared for motherhood as time passed. But, she had him and he had her and that was all the safety they needed to go on to the next day.

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Read my other Pedro Pascal fics

#javier peña #javier pena fic #javier peña fluff #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena imagine #javier peña x reader #javier peña x ofc #javier peña smut #javier pena smut #javier peña fic #narcos fanfiction #narcos fic #javier Peña hurt/comfort #married javier peña #husband!javier peña x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic #warning: bad spanish #all that i've inflicted on the world

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softpascalito · 8 months ago

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We got your back - Chapter 4

Summary: You work as a new DEA agent alongside Peña and Murphy. A not-so-kind colleague reveals more about you than you would like. You also realize you can sleep better if you're not by yourself. You're not the only one with that realization.

Relationships: Javier Peña x F!Reader

WC: 10k+

Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, mention of canon-typical violence, family issues, they arent specified but reader is implied to be from a dysfunctional family, literal sleeping together, one bed trope if you squint, tac vest javi, nightmares, cuddling, protective javier peña, mention of drugs

AO3 LINK // Series Masterlist

notes: we are back! sorry this took me so long, i started into the year super positive and motivated but then my best friend decided to fucking die so life hasn't been very slay. i hope you babes are doing better and enjoy the chapter <3

(i cope with humor, can you tell?)

Chapter 4

“She could no longer think, nor were there any more images in her head. She was aware only of the softness of the woollen bathrobe next to her skin, and then of the nearness and warmth of a being that did not frighten her.”

- Paul Bowles, The Sheltering Sky

You have the first good day in weeks. Apart from the nagging feeling that you now have something else to hide - at least from Steve and the rest of your colleagues - you do feel well rested, getting through the assigned files and some more intel with record speed.

One of the higher-ups is celebrating a milestone birthday and orders dinner, causing more people than usual to stay late. Javi finds you in the crammed room where the plates of food have been set up and squeezes in next to you, flashing his signature charming smile, “May I?”

“Yeah, sure,” you mumble back, shifting slightly to give him more space. But with how full all the tables are, the people are a good excuse to let yourself get a little closer than you normally would. Somehow, it doesn’t feel weird, the way it likely would’ve before last night. It just feels safe.

You eat your dinner without speaking much, Javi practically wolfing his down. A frown spreads over your face at that, “You got plans after this?”

“Are you asking me out, querida?” Javi responds in between two bites, flirting so casually that it almost seems like second nature to him. Which according to the testimony of at least three women you know in the embassy, is exactly that.

He cocks his brow as he turns towards you and for a split second, he looks serious, like he means it. The thought has you blushing furiously and you think you just may choke on a piece of your pasta when the familiar grin spreads over his face and with it, a similarly familiar warmth settles in your stomach. “I was just joking,” he reassures you again at seeing your cheeks change color and clears his throat before getting a little more serious.

“Wanted to go through some more files, not like this lot will get anything done tonight.” He nods towards the group of people gathered around the man who is apparently celebrating. They’ve finally opened up the first bottle of Aguardiente.

Of course, Javi knows that with the steadily rising alcohol level, he may just be able to persuade someone into giving him access to precisely the file he wants. Or at least provide enough distraction for him to sneak off and find it himself.

He can still hear Steve in the back of his mind, reasoning with him.

“Have you ever considered that the files are sealed because she wants them to be?”

He has, now. But he finds that he doesn’t really care. There is something there, something that might explain you to him a little more. A tiny voice in his head offers up the idea of just asking you, getting to know you like everyone else does.

But he quickly shakes that thought off. It’s nothing to him, personally at least. His interest is strictly professional of course. Nothing else.

Just as the first people start clearing out, Javi slips away too. You strain your neck, glancing around the room and towards the buffet but he’s nowhere to be found.

“Great,” you mumble to yourself as you follow suit and leave the table, heading out of the large oak doors of the conference room. A pit has formed in your stomach and it only deepens when you catch a glimpse of the time. It’s past nine already so chances are Javier really has headed off to meet some informant. You try not to consider who else he could be meeting and who else may wake up next to him in the morning.

Passing through the dimly lit corridors that lead to the DEA offices, you let out a small noise of annoyance with yourself.

It’s not like it’s any of your business what Javi does after closing time or who he meets. And it’s not really like you to judge him for it.

But today, you realize quietly, your disappointment stems from the pit in your stomach at the thought of having to go home to the apartment you’d rather forget and to spend a few hours tossing and turning on a mattress until it’s time to come back.

You haven’t met a single person on your way back to your office and you consider curling up next to your desk again. A glance around the office tells you that you’re not in luck, though. A few other co-workers still have their bags and jackets draped over chairs and desks and some will no doubt return to get them once they’re done eating. Javi finding you was one thing but they would be something else.

It takes a few seconds until the solution hits you and you take off past the open plan office and towards the smaller adjacent rooms in the back. The crammed file room that you’ve spent the last night in is sitting in darkness, the blinds almost completely closed. You decide against turning on the big light and simply make your way through the room- which is barely a few steps.

The orange glow of the streetlights filtering through the blinds is enough to let your hands find the couch in the corner and you settle onto it with a small sigh, content to just be still for a moment. It’s a little eerie, especially since you’re not sure if anyone other than Peña and Murphy frequents the space. But the sounds that do drift to you are low and distant, nothing more than a couple of cars honking a few blocks away and a dog barking somewhere in the distance.

You draw your legs up onto the couch, wrapping your arms around them for the lack of actual bedding and lean back, closing your eyes.

It doesn’t become apparent to you that you’ve passed out until you wake with a start. You’re semi-aware of something above you and you squint into the darkness of the room. You can’t see his face but there is the voice you know all too well.

“That you, cariño?” Javi mutters, already a blanket in hand that he nudges against you. It takes you a few more seconds to find your voice, bringing a hand up to rub your eyes, “Thought you left.”

“I came back. Here, go back to sleep. I’ll stay.”

You’re too tired to fight him, to put up any kind of resistance against making this a habit, to bring up that this is a bad idea, for the sake of both of you. The blanket warms you up so quickly, even more so with the way Javier’s body slowly comes to rest beside you. You think you answer something before you pass out again. You can’t remember what you say.

It’s not until the next morning, when you yawn as you head into the office kitchen, that you find out precisely why Javier snuck off last night.

There is cereal. And not the shitty kind- actual Cap’n Crunch, your favorite. The man beside you, who has a reputation for being a playboy and for never staying for breakfast, remembered the way you preferred your breakfast. It’s hard not to let it get to your head.

It does become routine after that. Javi lingers around the office until he can tell if you’ll leave or stay. Most nights you stay. Most turn into all. On the second night in a row, he lights himself a cigarette as he flips through a few more files before going to sleep. On the third, it goes from a bad to a really bad night when the nightmares you never seem to be able to get rid of come for you. For a second, you think this will be one step too far for him. But he barely seems to mind the way you cuddle a bit closer to him and he mumbles soft words until you go back to sleep.

He never mentions it during the day and neither do you. It’s almost like your sleeping arrangements are part of a different world, not the one that spins around your work, that’s full of drugs and death and everything else that makes sleep difficult. But Javi just feels- safe. He never asks too many questions. He just gets the blanket, sets his alarm, makes sure there is cereal in the morning. He feels like a godsent.

Of course, it’s only a question of time until someone notices something. You’re always careful to not head into your little room until everyone else is gone but occasionally, someone will show up too early or during the night- a spontaneous raid, a tip that needs instant investigating. Javi keeps the phone by his side constantly and it takes over a week for you to realize it may not just be to get alerts on developing situations but also to be alerted to someone coming into the office during unusual hours.

So when two weeks have passed and someone does catch you, Javi is glad it's Steve who is clearly just grabbing some files early in the morning and freezes in the doorway. He stares Javi down, who in return gently puts a finger onto his lips and motions for them to head to the hallway, gently closing the door behind himself as he steps out of the office.

“I have no way to be certain about Messina’s stance on this, but something tells me she wouldn't appreciate you bringing your hookers into the embassy,” Steve hums, unable to keep a small smirk off his face. Javi rolls his eyes in return, “I'm not an idiot, do you know that?”

He pauses for a moment and raises his hand just as Steve opens his mouth, “Don't answer that.” His mind is racing with too many thoughts at once. He’s not sure why, of all the things he could choose to tell Steve, he picks the truth when the lies would be so much easier.

“She was assigned a shitty apartment, hasn't been sleeping well. I remember you and Connie having similar issues after you arrived down here. With her, I figured we didn't use the room anyway and she-” he trails off. Steve brows have knitted together as the pieces slowly fall into place, “Somehow, a hooker would have been less complicated than a colleague.” There's another roll of eyes from Javi, the air a little thick with tension.

“I'm trying to help her. That's all.”

“You are trying to help her? Do you really expect me to believe that?” Steve shoots back, raising his voice until Javi motions for him to quiet down, nodding towards the door. The blonde man makes a face, but he does lower his voice as he repeats himself, “You expect me to believe that? You’re just helping her, no motive? It has nothing to do with you feeling the need to fuck your way through half the office by the time we finish the case?”

Javier actually groans at that, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment. He moves his fingers to the side, using them to gently rub his tired eyes. His free arm is resting against his belt, the fingers twitching ever so slightly.

“Fuck you, Murphy. Just leave us alone and get your files in the morning.”

Steve looks like he wants to say something else, but then he thinks better of it. A small glare is sent towards his partner regardless.

“If you fuck this up somehow, Javi, I swear, I will make sure you get in real trouble. She’s too sweet for whatever you are trying to do here.”

It's two nights after the encounter with Steve- who has much to Javier's relief actually left them alone- when it happens again. It's been a particularly exhausting day for both of you, which actually made Javi hopeful that you'd both fall into a deep sleep as soon as you hit the couch. But it's been as mentally draining as it's been physically. And your mind clearly just won’t shut off.

It wakes him. The small stirring, the movement of your body beside his. He’s never been a particularly deep sleeper and Colombia has only made it worse, his brain seemingly always on alert to danger. So when he does wake, it takes Javi a few seconds to realize that the danger his brain is alerting him to is not a sicario sneaking into your room, it’s not a gun held to his head. It’s an entirely different kind of danger, one much less life-threatening but so much more complicated to fix.

A small groan escapes him as he reaches for the small light perched on the file cabinets, pulling the string attached to it. He blinks groggily as it flickers to life, bathing the room into a dim, dusty light. A few moments pass before he hears another whimper behind him and turns towards you, eyes already laced with concern.

Your features are scrunched up, lips slightly apart as the noises find their way out of your dream and into reality. Occasionally, a muscle twitches in your hands or your leg, making the whole scene even more eerie. But what gets Javier the most, what makes the pit in his stomach feel like one that could reach the ground floor, is the wetness on your face. Tears, undoubtedly slipping from your closed eyes and finding their way down the side of your face. It looks absolutely heartbreaking.

“Cariño,” he mutters under his breath, bringing his hand towards your arm and beginning to rub it in a gentle, circular motion.

“Wake up, it’s just a dream. You’re-” For a split second, he wants to say home. But he knows it's so far from the truth. He's not sure you consider any place in this country a home. Actually, he's not sure which place you do consider one.

“You’re alright,” he mumbles instead, adding a little more force to his touch and voice alike. His gaze never leaves your face as your eyes finally fly open, practically choking on the whimper that had just been leaving your throat. The panic is evident in your eyes, in the way they fly around, searching for something, anything to reassure you, to replace the pictures still floating in your mind. They find soft, brown eyes. It’s something to hold onto.

“There you are,” Javi hums, bringing his free hand to your face, his thumb catching the next tear that rolls out of the corner of your eye. “It's okay, you're safe. Just a bad dream.”

You blame it on the panic still sitting in your throat or the way you've just woken up, the way you don't even think about your movements as you move yourself into Javis arms, sneaking your arms around his waist and you think you feel him hesitate for just a moment before he wraps his arms around you in return, whispering reassurances into the dimly lit room and stroking your back.

You cry a little more, when the memories of the dream feel too overwhelming and he holds you through all of it, not once complaining about how long you’re taking to shake the thoughts off.

It’s a good half hour before you’re both lying down again, his back resting against the edge of the sofa, right arm wrapped lazily around you, “You want me to keep the light on for now?”

The idea seems a little silly to you but it takes you right back to evenings in your childhood bedroom, to what felt like endless nights of asking your father to plug in the small night light you'd gotten for christmas. It looked like a sheep, carrying a smile and enough light for you to be able to tell that there were no monsters hiding in the dark corners of your room.

“Querida?” You nod your head quickly, resting it back on his chest, “Yeah, I- let’s keep it on. If that’s okay.”

“Por supuesto que está bien,” (Of course that is okay,) Javier mumbles softly, his left hand reaching below your makeshift bed and producing a pack of Marlboros. You watch the movements of his hands, the ones you see him do at least ten times a day, his fingers reaching for a cigarette, placing it between his slightly parted lips. Pausing to search two pockets for his lighter before finding it.

At a small nudge from you, he pauses, raising a brow, “¿Sí?” You nod towards the pack that’s still resting next to him, “It’s really rude not to offer me one.”

“I thought you didn’t smoke,” he says, seeming genuinely confused for a moment and you almost take pity. You sneak your hand over his torso, drawing a cigarette from the half-empty pack, “I do now.”

To his defense, he does try and look stern for a moment. But he knows it'd be hypocritical at best if he of all people tried to stop you.

“It's a bad habit.”

“Well, then it's our bad habit.”

Javi thinks, for a split moment, that something entirely else is his bad habit. The way he looks at you when you fall asleep before him or the touches that seem to become more and more frequent the longer your sleeping arrangement continues. The way he jerks off in his shower at home, picturing your face, your body draped in his shirt a few nights ago when your blouse was simply too uncomfortable to sleep in. Spilling into his own hand with a groan at those thoughts. Yeah, that's definitely his bad habit.

“Are you going to light it for me or are you hoping it’ll disintegrate if you think hard enough?” You joke gently, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Teasing again already, are we?” Javi hums but he does reach for his lighter and brings it to your face, careful not to get too close.

He waits until you’ve both taken a few drags to ask his question.

“So what was it about?”

You swallow a bit at that, taking another long drag before you shake your head, “Nothing special. It’s already disappearing.” After another moment of thinking, you add, truthfully, “There was something with drugs in it.”

“Not very creative, I’d say. Five out of ten.”

You stare at him in disbelief, “Are you rating my nightmares, Peña?”

“I like to keep track,” he responds, giving you a small wink that you almost miss. You watch the smoke rising from the cigarette between his lips, sighing softly. You don’t like lying to him. Then again, it really was about drugs. Just not in the way he may think. It’s not your fault he’s stupid, sometimes.

“You’re silly. Go to sleep.”

“Go to sleep yourself.”

You do end up falling back asleep first, head still resting on his chest. Javi stays awake a little while longer, just in case the nightmares come back. At least that’s what he tells himself. And if he happens to use that opportunity to study your face a bit more? Well, it’s noones business.

end notes: if you enjoyed this, please reblog and/or leave a comment <3 also subscribe on ao3 or follow me here to catch the next update!

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lionlena · 1 year ago

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Dancing With Your Ghost (JavierPeñaxghost!reader) Part I

Summary: You are a ghost (sort of) and you don't remember what happened to you. You only know your name and you feel that something bad has happened to you. The only person who sees you and hears you is Javier, so you don't leave him because you believe he'll help you. That he will solve the mystery of what happened to you.

Warnigs: the reader is a ghost, mentions of death, angst, later chapters will also include descriptions of severe wounds, blood... And also sadness, anxiety, little smut but later

A/N: Title inspired by this song

Part I

Javier entered his apartment with the red-haired woman glued to his side. The prostitute showered his neck with kisses. He glanced at the couch and sighed dramatically, "What's wrong, handsome?" she moaned right into his ear. Javier muttered, "Nothing, it's nothing."

You snorted and shot him an offended look: "Am I nothing?"

You were sitting on the couch with your legs crossed and you weren't going to move. Javier clenched his jaw and waved at you. You laughed and repeated his gesture: "Seriously, is that how you chase away ghosts?"

"Disappear," he hissed softly. You stuck your tongue out at him and replied, "I'm not going to."

At that time, the redhead looked at him in surprise: "What did you say?"

"That my desire for sex has disappeared," he muttered, looking at you resignedly. He already knew how stubborn you were.

The prostitute pouted in displeasure and grabbed his belt.

"I'm sure I can help with that."

You giggled and said, "She's relentless."

Javier slightly pushed her away and shook his head, "I'm sorry, honey, I can do nothing about that." Before the woman could say anything, he pulled out his wallet and took out the money. "Don't worry, I'll pay you anyway."

The woman sighed heavily: "Too bad, you seem nice." She took the money from him and pecked him on the cheek. "If you change your mind, you have my phone number." Javier nodded. "Alright, goodbye handsome."

As soon as the door closed, you said.

"Awww, you're so nice. I'm sure most guys would kick her out without paying."

Javier turned to you and placed his hands on his hips.

"Has anything changed since this morning?" He looked at you searchingly. "Did you remember your last name? Where are you from? How did you die? Where did you die? When did you die? What did the killer look like?" He barked out questions at a rapid pace, and you shook your head at each one. "In conclusion, nothing has changed!" he growled. "So you could have waited until, you know."

You raised your eyebrows.

"I wanted to mobilize you. And... I honestly think that you can do better. You are handsome, intelligent, nice, you could pick up any woman."

He snorted and took a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it. He rubbed his forehead with his thumb and gasped, "And again we're talking about me instead of you." He sat back in his chair, spreading his legs wide and exhaling smoke slowly. At times like this, you really wished you could touch him. You would be sitting on his lap and kissing his beautiful long neck. "Did you think that maybe I'd work better if I got rid of the sexual tension?" His words brought you back to reality.

You snorted and shrugged, "You've got a shower and a hand for that."

You saw his eyes darken and he raised his eyebrows. After a moment, he let out a long moan of annoyance, and you giggled slightly. You liked teasing him.

"What? Are you about to say again that maybe I deserved to die?"

He shook his head and dropped his shoulders. "I already apologized for that," he said sadly.

You frowned. You didn't expect such a reaction. You thought he was going to say something sarcastic. "It's okay, I didn't mean to make you feel guilty."

He looked at you. "I looked through the missing person's database when I had a moment. No one matches you."

You felt a surge of sadness and bit your lip. "Maybe no one is looking for me because I wasn't important to anyone."

Javier shook his head and leaned towards you. "I don't believe it. Maybe you can be annoying." He looked at you suggestively. "But you're also kind and sweet. I'm sure you had someone who loved you and would look for you.”

You got up from the couch. "Yeah, sure. Don't you think I would remember that person?" Javier shrugged and you headed for the door. You looked at him again. "You should lie down, you look tired, but... I'll be walking around the city, so if you want, call a girl. I won't bother you."

Javier waved his hand and before he thought about that he said, "Take care of yourself."

You looked at him with an unspoken "Seriously?", but then you smiled slightly and nodded your head. It was even cute that he went from "you're not real, I'm delusional" to "I'm worried about you because I forget you're a ghost."

As usual, you went through the door of his apartment, then the main door, and found yourself on the streets of Colombia. It was one of the few pluses of this lousy situation. You were free to roam the streets. Enjoy the hidden beauty of the city.

Maybe Javier was a little plus in the situation, too. You didn't remember if you had anyone. Boyfriend, fiancé, husband... But you wish they were as handsome as Javi and sensitive. Yes, Agent Peña had a good heart. No matter how hard he tried to hide it. You see that. He did these little things for you, left the TV on when he went to work, even though you could turn it on yourself, thanks to this strange ability to control electricity. And he talked to you. Not only about your weird condition. But also about ordinary things.

After you were gone, Javier poured himself a glass of whiskey and sat down on the couch. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily. Then he laughed at his own stupidity. He expected that to be the case when he went back to the apartment with the prostitute. He could just go to some brothel and spend the night there. Then the risk of you showing up would be much less, and yet... In some twisted way, he was hoping you would show up and he'd have to send the girl away. He groaned in frustration. He really was abnormal. How was he supposed to explain to you that not being able to touch you was driving him crazy. "Fuck," he hissed. "Come to your senses, Peña. The girl is dead."

Contrary to what you might think, he really wanted to get the motherfucker who killed someone like you. But he was an agent, he needed facts... Even the place of your death would be a success, and he had nothing.

He tilted his head back and closed his eyes. He remembered the first time he saw you.

( flashback )

4 weeks earlier

Maybe chasing Velásquez downtown at noon wasn't the smartest decision he made. But what was he supposed to do? They tracked him down, and this was their chance. So he gave permission for the chase and jumped into the car driven by Chris. They were speeding through the city streets like crazy, and he had to admit Feistl was driving really well, but they were out of luck. They ended up causing a few car collisions, their own car was blocked by a truck and they had to brake hard. Javier jumped out of the car, leaning forward and resting his hands on his knees.

"Fuck," he gasped. "Fuck! Fuuuuck!!!"

"Boss..." Daniel started walking towards him.

He waved his hand and muttered, "Not now. I need to cool down."

He started walking forward ignoring the people who were staring at him and then he saw you. You were standing in the middle of the street screaming "Help! Can someone help me?! Please..." His heart beat harder. He hated seeing defenseless women, and that's what you looked like. You were desperate and worst of all, no one was paying attention to you. He immediately felt obligated to offer you help. He straightened up and started walking towards you.

"Miss, what happened?"

You looked at him with wide eyes. "You see me?"

Your question surprised him and he nodded. He took another step towards you and then it happened. A cyclist has passed through your body. Literally, it penetrated your body. Javier jumped back: "What the fuck?!" You put your hands up and started walking towards him: "I know what it looks like, but... Only you can see me, please... I think I died." You had tears in your eyes, but Javier just shook his head, turned around, and started walking away. "Wait!" You tried to grab his hand, but it didn't work like it didn't with other people.

Javier was walking briskly towards his agents. He waved his hand at Daniel and as the taller man approached him he asked, "Did I hit my head?"

"What?"

"Do I have a wound on the back of my head? Do you see anything?!"

Daniel shook his head, "No, boss."

Javier looked behind him, and of course, you were still standing there. He started massaging his temples.

"Are you a policeman?" you asked as you noticed police cars gathering around. And he had a gun in his belt and the man he was talking to was wearing a bulletproof vest. Of course, he didn't answer you, but you were sure he heard you. "Please help me. I don't know who I am or what happened. And only you can see and hear me."

You saw him swallow nervously. You suspected you'd act the same way too. It's unusual to see ghosts. You sighed heavily and stood next to him. You weren't going to leave him. You felt he was your only chance. So when he got in the car, you sat in the back. You saw him occasionally glance in the rearview mirror, but he pressed his lips into a thin line and said nothing. When he went to his apartment, you followed him. You saw him take his headache pills. He finally spoke up, but he wasn't looking at you.

"I'll go to sleep and when I wake up you'll be gone. You're just a delusion," he murmured.

You watched as he lay down on the couch. He closed his eyes and began to breathe deeply. You were still standing in the middle of his living room.

"I really feel like something bad happened to me," you whispered.

He opened his eyes and looked at you up and down. He opened his mouth as if to say something but closed it finally and turned his back to you.

You sat on the floor and started crying. Your tears falling on the carpet left no trace as if they didn't exist. You felt so lost. You only remembered your name, nothing else. You didn't know where you were from or what happened. You just had this weird feeling that you had died and that it was someone else's fault. So you assumed you were murdered. And then you made a decision. You won't give up until this man believes you exist and helps you.

Part II

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #javier pena #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #narcos #ghost!reader #angst #but also humor #hurt/comfort

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pedgito · 2 years ago

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hey, im a big fan of your writing. I am also a big fan of Javier Peña, Joel and Din lmao. So can I request a story about either one of those (mostly sfw mainly because im in my feelings) that is more of a hurt/comfort angst? Maybe bottled feelings are freed, a near death experience occurs after a heated confession that didn't go well...? idk I leave it up to you if you want to write it of course. Anyways, again, love love your stories, especially the way your portray Javier. Have a nice week <3

pairing | javier pena x fem!reader

content warning | mostly sfw, arguments over commitment/relationships, mention of violence (bombing), descriptions of minor injuries and emotional distress, just lots and lots of angst [2.6k]

author’s note | this screamed javi so hard so i couldn't pass up the opportunity to write some angst for him

↝ other fics | requests? | ao3

You’ve been at it for months now, waiting for Javier to finally give in and confess to you what he’s been holding back for so long—he’s so closed off it’s impossible, his back turned to you as he grips the chair shoved into the small dining table tucked in the corner of his apartment.

This was supposed to be a one off job, spend a couple months down in Bogotá with Steve—play alongside him in the hopes of catching Escobar, settling into a mix between the three of you, realizing fairly quickly that Peña wasn’t the type of nice guy you were used to.

He was brazen, straight-forward and a little bit—scratch that, a lot of an asshole, so full of himself that it oozed out. Still, that didn’t stop you from climbing into his bed a week into your stay, breaking the one rule you had.

Never fucking sleep with your co-workers.

Look where it got you; fighting an emotionless wall of stone.

He wants you, but he can’t have you. He doesn’t want to see you with other people, but he can’t stake his claim and call you his—but god forbid you so much as consider eyeing another person, someone interested in showing you the attention you wanted, that you deserved. His jealousy is unmatched, the curl in his lip when he sees you across the room around them, the short and fleeting touches they gave to your arm in passing—from your perspective, a simple gesture between friends, but to Javier, it's a threat.

And it wasn’t that he didn’t try to show you attention—Javier was more than that, all-consuming in a way, passionate to a fault. But, he was not a lover type guy.

Still, you were naive enough to think you could change that.

“I’m not doing this anymore,” You spoke strongly, watching the tilt of his head as looks down, burning a cigarette held between his fingers, “whatever this is—we can forget about it.”

“Yeah—I’m sure the others will have a fuckin’ field day when they catch wind,” Murphy let it slip once and it’s been the constant topic of conversation, playful teasing toward you but torture on Peña who likes to keep things private, always, “always eye fucking you across the room.”

“Who cares, Javi?” You ask, feeling like you were talking to a ghost as he refused to look at you. “You don’t give a shit what’s going on here, why should I?”

And it hurts because you do.

It was innocent at first, one hookup that should’ve ended that night. But, one turned into several and eventually you were spending most night at Javier’s apartment to the extent of grabbing dinner on the way there—or, for fucks sake, cooking for the man. You knew that he loved breakfast in the mornings despite his constant refusal to eat it, how he couldn’t focus without his first cup of coffee and why he kept his gun at his bedside and the spare under the mattress.

He’s got scars, faint but visible when you lay against his chest at night—some from childhood, some not, but you wouldn’t know had you not spent the time with him and watched the vulnerability he showed when it was just you, just him after a long, stressful day trying to catch a terrifying monster and the both of you itching to burn off steam.

“You can’t ask me on a date, can’t—jesus—you can’t even look at me, Javier.” He hears the break in your voice, how hard you’re struggling to keep things together.

And you’re fuming, furious, aiming to hit him where it really hurts. You want him to feel. Feel anything.

“You like to play house and let me cook you meals, act like I’m yours when it’s convenient for you.” He twitches at that, slamming the burnt end of the cigarette into the ashtray. It’s the only real sign of emotion he’s shown all morning. “That’s all you care about. Egoísta.” (Selfish)

He slams the ashtray down roughly, ashes flying over the table. You don’t jump or flinch, not at all fazed by his outburst. You saw it too often during work when things fucked up or didn’t go his way. When he did show emotion it was intense and full body.

“I told you,” He says slowly, turning toward you now, “I don’t do this,” He punctuates slowly, fingering wagging between the both of you, “I can’t do—this.”

Clearly.

“Can’t or won’t?”

The difference is staggering, truly. You wanted an answer.

“You tell me you never want me to leave your bed, your apartment, that you want to keep me here forever because there’s nothing that makes you feel this close to home—and you can’t do this?”

He speaks it against your lips almost every night when he’s pulling you into his chest, pressing those soft lips of his against your forehead and kissing you with a tenderness reserved only for you.

Javier never answers, gaze growing more intense by the second, bound to retreat from the situation before emotions boil over—but you beat him to it, grabbing your bag and storming out without a word.

He’s never had to beg you to stay and he doesn’t realize how desperately he’d wished to ask you until a few hours later, a phone call from Steve that has his heart dropping into his stomach, the equal worry in Murphy’s voice as he relays the information.

Steve mumbles your name—hurt, bomb, Escobar written all over it, dead, so many dead.

You’re lucky to still be standing—or rather alive, forced onto a gurney lined in the aisle of some rundown Bogota hospital where the workers were running rampant, clearly on edge and scrambling to save lives.

It was minor compared to what could have been. A small concussion, some lacerations to your face and a nasty gash on your side that required some stitching. It wasn’t anything some pain medication and bandages couldn’t fix, but in that commotion you had lost all of your belongings, undoubtedly damaged beyond repair. You had been in the shopping center ten minutes prior to the explosion and you were shaken, admittedly, wondering why your life had been spared over so many others.

And you always hear about your life flashing before your eyes during a near death experience, never really believing it until it happens—and selfishly, you couldn’t think about anything but Javi.

He was a nasty parasite, the kind that sucked the life and energy out of you, took everything and gave nothing in return. You knew how he was going into things, knew he wouldn’t budge or change his ways.

But still, there was a hope that maybe he would change.

The first thing you manage to do when you find a phone is call the embassy—anyone who would answer and let them know what happened, but they were miles ahead and already fifty feet deep into investigating.

Carillo is the first to ask if you’re okay, not that it matters—but then Murphy is scrambling for the phone, a soft commotion in the background as he argues with the man until he finally lets up and hands it over.

“God, we thought you were dead. Please tell me you’re alright?” Murphy pleads, sounding just as strained and worried as you’d expect, “All your limbs, nothing missing?”

You laugh softly into the phone, the first breath of life back into after what has been a terrible day. It’s already evening, the day has come and gone and the sun is setting without a trace of anyone coming to help.

Not that you expected it—Javier wasn’t the type to get over things easily.

“Yep. Head’s still attached and everything.” And Steve can appreciate your way of coping, adding a bit of lightheartedness to a dark situation. You release a shaky breath, squeezing the plastic tighter until cracks under your grip, “Is there—I mean, they just discharged me, but I don’t have a ride.”

“Javier didn’t pick you up?” Murphy asks, sounding confused. “I told him—he should’ve…”

He trails off, cursing away from the phone as he speaks to someone distantly, “Which hospital are you at?”

You look around for any indication, reading off an unfamiliar name to Steve as he repeats it, scribbling it down on a piece of paper.

“Shit—Javi’s probably clear on the other side of town from you.” Murphy runs a tired hand through his hair, over his face. “They told us they sent everyone to the one here close by the embassy.”

Everyone.

Families searching for their missing—you couldn’t even imagine it.

“He—does Javi think I’m—“

“Shit, I don’t know. He’s been on edge since he got here this morning, we’ve been trying to figure something out, anything—he left a few hours ago when we weren’t getting answers and I just—did something happen?”

“I think I pushed him too far this morning,” You say softly, huddling closer to the wall as the halls become more crowded, louder and suffocating in a way that has your curling around yourself slightly, mindful of the pain in your side, “fuck, maybe this is karma, Steve.”

“Hey, no—don’t say that shit,” He stops you in your tracks, “Javi is…Javi, you can’t predict anything he’s gonna do. Dude’s a fuckin’ brick wall half the time.”

There’s a long moment of silence.

“Steve, I don’t have my phone.” You tell him, “Can you just—call him? Let him know. I need to find a cab or someone willing to drive me back to Bogota if that’s even fucking possible. I don’t even have my wallet or badge with me.”

It’s almost like a divine intervention that you hear Javier on the other end, cutting through the flurry of other voices and busy telephones ringing. He’s wrenching the phone out of Steve’s hand before he can get a word in.

“Querida,” He says soft, voice quivering slightly, “Querida, is that you?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to will yourself to remember how badly things ended earlier in the day, even if they didn’t feel as important now, they were still important to you.

Emotions were high now, but the fallout could be devastating.

“Yes, I’m—Javi, I’m okay. A little banged up and stuff but I’ll survive,” The silence grows as he absorbs the information, “Look, I need to go. I have to find a ride back to town.”

“Don’t move,” He says briskly, suddenly, “Fuck—I mean stay there, no te vayas. I’m coming for you.” (Do not go)

The line cuts before you have a chance to reply.

You love how well he sticks out in a crowd despite how he likes to blend in and not draw attention to himself, but he’s all tanned skin and shiny with a layer of sweat that tells you he probably ran a few blocks to get here.

You did wait, even if it was closer to a half hour before there was any sign of him, despite how upset you still were, you waited.

Of course you did.

His eyes dart around nervously before they land on you, tucked away in a corner as you cradle your side and he’s barreling toward you, scooping you up before you can protest. The small squeak you release has him pulling back like someone stabbed him with a hot brand, brows furrowed with worry.

“My side,” You mumble, shifting his hand away from the wound, watching as it falls helpless to his side again, his gaze lingering over your body, face, seeing the amount of damage you took, “hey—I’m fine, all things considered.”

Javier blinks slowly, rubbing around the side of your jaw, careful of the small bandage covering a nasty cut, that familiar pout growing on his lips. You saw it earlier, but the implication was different.

This wasn’t anger. It was worry.

“Mi amor,” He murmurs, oblivious to the commotion around you both as he looks at you, almost straight through you, “fuck—I’m so sorry.”

You breathe through your nose deeply, shaking your head as you grip his wrist for leverage, pulling him alongside you until you’re outside, away from the crowd of people and alone.

“No, I’m sorry.”

And for once, Javier is surprised.

He knows you always have a comeback poised on your tongue, the will to fight and work through any argument that surfaces, but this is defeat. It’s clear as day on your face in the way it falls, eyes softened to the point of near tears and your cheek covered in a dark bruise that makes his chest hurt.

“I don’t know why I’m forcing you to answer to something you don’t want,” That something in question was you, but it didn’t matter, “maybe we let things drag on too long. I was just—happy, I liked it. I shouldn’t have expected anything from you since you were clear from the beginning.”

Even with Javier being the first to cross the lines he drew himself, asking you to stay that one night and never going back, making mistake after mistake until it stopped feeling wrong and started to seem, well, normal. But, here you were, taking the blame like he had no wrongdoing in any of this.

“Bebita, no.” His voice is low, thumb rubbing a tender spot in the side of your neck, a soft touch that massages the ache in your muscles, head tilting into the touch as you look at him. “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Oh, the irony.

“Now look at you,” He says, scanning over your face briefly, “consumes mi mente, nena.” (You consume my mind, baby)

“I can’t do halfway anymore, Javi.” It’s pure honesty, fingers finding his wrist as they wrap around delicate, using his touch as an anchor. “I need all of you.”

“Then have it,” Javier says mindlessly, without thinking and speaking instinct—it’s real, you can see it in the way his eyes widen and soften in the same instance, that pleasing look that entraps you, “tómalo.” (Take it)

The tears that sting your eyes don’t fall, but they rise, blinking rapidly to will them away and force yourself to keep composed despite hearing those words, knowing how deeply he meant them.

“Fuck, I’ll marry you if that proves anything to you, querida.” He’s being over-dramatic, but it has your insides fluttering like wildfire, “I should’ve never let you leave this morning.”

But, he was scared. Terrified of how deeply he felt for you.

“There’s so much you don’t know,” Javier explains, “so much I need to tell you but I don’t want to scare you away.”

As if he could.

“Javi, I’m with you.” You tell him steadily, “I always have been.”

Javier laughs through a sigh, breathing through his nose as he smiles for the first time that day.

“We can talk. We will.” Javier nods assuredly, “But, I want to get you home first.”

Home. He means his apartment, but it comes out that way without realizing.

He’s tender when he helps you shower, cleans your wounds up with what little first aid he has, but he manages, helping you dress in what has to be the most vulnerable moment you’ve had since meeting him.

Javier holds you for a long while after that, curled up in his lap on the sofa as he smokes away with his head leaned against the back of the cushion, rubbing a hand over your thigh softly.

“Hermosa?”

You’re nearly asleep by then, rousing with a small hum.

“After all of this,” He trails on, “when we put Escobar away and this shit is done,” He pauses, taking a short drag from the cigarette and blowing it out into the air, “I want you to come back with me.”

“To Texas?”

He nods, squeezing your leg for reassurance.

“I'm terrified of losing you here, but home—I would never let you out of my sight, I could keep you close.”

His trepidation will always be his downfall, but he knows he can’t let you go anymore. He needs you here, he’ll need you after.

“Anywhere you want, Javi. I’ll follow.”

He doesn’t have any reason not to believe you.

“Buena.” (Good.)

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