#steve murphy mentioned

[elizaleclerc]

epiphany 📠 ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

"just one single glimpse of relief / to make some sense of what you've seen"

summary: fem!reader and javier deal with the aftermath of a traumatic mission

song: epiphany by taylor swift

word count: 2.6k

author's note: first javi fic yippie. hella angst / nightmare trope / mentions of death / hurt/comfort / 18+ but no smut just fluff / established relationship / DEA agent reader / translated spanish

The car ride back to your apartment was suffocatingly quiet, the weight of grief hanging heavily in the air. The familiar streets flew by as Javier drove, but you couldn't focus on anything other than the images burned into your mind. As a DEA agent for over a year, you had seen your fair share of horrors, but never before had you witnessed something so gruesome right in front of you. It was easier to read about these things in paperwork, detached and removed from the reality of it all. But now, the memory of it all was haunting and raw, replaying in vivid detail with every passing second.

Your head felt numb, as if a thick fog had settled over your thoughts. Your whole body felt heavy and weighed down, as if invisible chains were holding you back. The sensation in your stomach was nauseating, like being on a rollercoaster that never seemed to end. Even though you wanted to vomit, you knew it would be futile - your body was too weak to even try. Even Javier, known for his stoic demeanor and ability to handle tough missions, was uncharacteristically quiet. The only sound filling the car was the low muttering of the engine. Not even the radio provided any source of distraction or comfort in this tense moment.

Javier expertly parked the car in the driveway of your shared apartment, the smooth engine purring to a stop. The dim yellow glow of the streetlights illuminated his face as he turned to you, concern etched into his features. But you didn't move to get out of the car, your gaze fixed on something far off and unreachable. Javier's gentle touch on your hand jolted you back to reality. "Hey," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, "let's get inside where it's warm." His words were like a lifeline, pulling you out of the depths of your thoughts. He understood the weight that was pressing down on you - he was carrying it too.

You nodded, and languidly pushed the car door open and scooted out of the passenger seat. Your legs felt like noodles, weak and wobbly from the energy you exerted on today’s mission. Javier put his arm around you, his thumb delicately circling the top of your shoulder.

Javier's keys jingled in the lock as he turned the handle of the front door, and the familiar scent of the apartment enveloped you like a warm embrace. After hours of feeling disoriented and disconnected since returning from the mission, this was the first sense of comfort that washed over you. The office had been a blur, with memories of sitting at your desk attempting to file paperwork but unable to even type on the typewriter. But now, as you lazily walked into the apartment, everything slowly started to feel real again. Javier set his keys down on the sleek kitchen island, and you followed him aimlessly, your mind finally starting to settle from its chaotic state.

“I’m gonna assume you aren’t hungry?” He asked, his voice still soft. You shook your head no. He nodded, “What do you need?”

As you lifted your gaze to meet his, you couldn't help but notice the deep brown pools of concern gazing back at you. But beneath that concern, you could see a deeper turmoil brewing - the weight of today's mission and countless others weighing heavily on his shoulders. "I don't know," you croaked, your voice hoarse from screaming and covered in dust. You weren't even sure if Javier could hear you over the ringing in your ears. Tears welled up in your eyes as flashes of today's horrors replayed in your mind like a never-ending nightmare.

“Listen, you have to talk about what happened today,” he said urgently. In his experience, keeping everything bottled up inside only made things worse. He leaned across the counter, his elbows propping him up as he reached out to hold your hand in his. His touch was warm and comforting. “Tell me, cariño, what's going through your mind right now?” His dark eyes searched yours with concern and empathy as he waited for you to open up to him.

More images flashed through your head. Your throat burned trying to hold back more tears. “I should’ve done more to save them…”

He sighed, “Mi amor, you can’t think that way. You and I both know we did our very best today. The ‘what ifs’ will only haunt you if you let them.” Javier’s voice was persistent yet comforting. This wasn’t his first rodeo, so you knew he was probably telling the truth.

“How do we go to work tomorrow like nothing happened?” Your voice cracked out, and Javier squeezed your hands.

“Everyone in that office apart from the damn secretaries have experienced days like this. They know what we’re going through. We take as much time as we need to get back into the swing of things, and we persist. That’s all we can do, querida.”

You stood in silence, the words caught in your throat as Javier moved around the spacious apartment. The soft glow of golden lights flickered against the dark walls, casting shadows across his face. He poured two glasses of whiskey from a crystal decanter, the sound of clinking ice cubes filling the room. He slid one glass towards you and you reached out to take it, feeling the coolness of the glass against your fingertips. You brought it to your lips and took a slow sip, letting the warm liquid spread through your body and soothe your racing thoughts. In the background, Javier shuffled around the living room before the smooth melody of an oldies music vinyl began to fill the air.

As you made your way into the room, the smell of Javier's cologne mixed with the remnants of cigarette smoke enveloped your senses. You could feel his warmth radiating from the couch as he sat there, whiskey glass in hand, waiting for you. As you slouched down beside him, your body immediately relaxed, finding solace in his comforting presence and scent. The tension in your muscles began to melt away, and silent tears escaped your eyes once again. The weight of the day's events was finally settling in, and you were now more aware of your memories and surroundings than ever before. With each passing moment, you were forced to confront the aftermath of the mission and all that it entailed.

You sniffled as Javier scooted you closer to him. You laid your head down next to his chest and he caressed the side of your arm. “I know, I know.” He whispered as your tears wet his shirt underneath you.

He wasn’t just saying that to comfort you, he really did know. His own memories of tough missions flashed through his head. He remembered when he witnessed his first death on the job. He knew the feelings of regret and guilt that now lingered inside of you. He had gotten better at coping with the aftermath and trauma of missions, but that’s one thing that the DEA doesn’t teach you.

Once most of your tears had subsided, your mind was back to feeling blank. However, you recognized the song that was now playing from the record player. It was a soft oldies song that you and Javier once slow danced to. You thought it was cheesy at the time, but Javier convinced you to dance with him. He could persuade you to do just about anything.

Javier shifted and got up from the couch, your body sinking into the cushions slightly with his absence. You looked at him curiously as he held out his hand, “Dance with me, amor.”

You almost huffed out a laugh, but couldn’t muster up the energy. “Really, now?” He simply nodded in response. You sighed, and slowly got up from the couch.

You moved closer to him, relishing the warmth and strength of his embrace. His arms encircled your waist, pulling you in close as his fingers traced gentle patterns on your back. You closed your eyes, sinking into the feeling of being held by someone who loved you. In the background, the soft melodies of the song played, transporting you to a distant memory. It was the first time you had heard this song, dancing with Javier in this very apartment. The room was filled with cardboard boxes waiting to be unpacked, but Javier was too eager to set up his treasured record player. A fond smile graced your lips as you swayed together, lost in each other's presence.

“Te quiero mucho (I love you so much)” Javier muttered as he placed a kiss at the top of your head. His hands slowly moved up your arms, holding you tightly to him. It was as if he was so worried he could’ve lost you today that he didn’t want to ever let go of you.

“I love you too Javi,” You rested your head onto his chest. You were finally feeling a sense of peace, a sense that you could go on tomorrow and be almost okay.

“Cmon, let’s call it a night.” Javier sighed and you looked up at him and into his brown puppy eyes that held so much love for you. His lips placed a soft kiss onto yours. A kiss that wasn’t meant to lead to anything else. A kiss that stated he was here, just for you to love.

As the minutes ticked by, you both showered and changed into fresh, cozy clothes. Finally, you found yourselves snuggled up together in bed, with Javier's strong arms wrapped around you from behind. His soft lips pressed against your neck and shoulder, leaving a trail of gentle kisses that sent shivers down your spine. The soothing tempo of his breathing next to yours was like a lullaby, easing you into a peaceful slumber.

That was when the nightmare started. You were back inside the shabby house from earlier. Windows were broken and wooden boards were rotted. You couldn’t believe that anyone actually lived there. You held your gun down tightly by your thigh, just the way that Carillo had taught you. Javier was leading in front of you, and Steve was following behind you.

You heard a glass shatter from upstairs and immediately turned your head towards Javier and Steve, knowing looks shared between the three of you. Your mind seemed to fast forward this awful dream. There were three small children being held as hostages, and two men who the DEA had been trying to track down for months. You had your gun pointed at one of the men, Javier and Steve pointing theirs at the second man. Steve was trying to reason with them, but this was an impossible scenario. Your mind was racing but also laser focused. How could you get them to surrender to the DEA and also let the children go? From what you could tell these children were just pulled off the street, their innocent souls only being used as collateral for a scheming drug cartel.

Before you knew it, guns were firing and you lunged back behind a piece of furniture. You heard the voices of Steve and Javier yelling and trying to fight the men, but it was too late. You stood up and scanned the room, your eyes shifting from Javier to Steve, who were trying to catch their breath, then to the three small bodies lying on the ground.

Your own blood-curdling scream tore through the silence, jolting you awake. In an instant, Javier's strong arms enveloped your trembling body, soothing and comforting you in his warm embrace. Your chest heaved with ragged breaths and tears streamed down your cheeks as you struggled to regain control of your emotions. "Shh, it's okay, I'm here, you're safe," Javier murmured tenderly, gently stroking your hair and rubbing your back. Gradually, your breathing slowed and your heart rate returned to normal as the nightmare faded away. But the fear lingered, a palpable presence in the air. It took several minutes before you could calm yourself enough to speak.

You sat up and put your head in your hands. Javier rubbed your lower back as he sat up with you. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asked, and you thought for a moment.

With teary eyes you looked over at him. “They were just kids, Javi. They didn’t do anything wrong.” Your throat burned and more tears fell. Javier pulled you into him so that your head laid on his chest.

“I know. We are gonna do everything we can to get the bastards who took those kids from their families.” He massaged the side of your arm.

“Javi…” You whispered slowly and moved away to look him in the eyes. You grabbed his hand, running your fingers lightly across his knuckes. “You always talk about raising a family. I always loved imagining a bunch of little Javis running around,” a smile tugged at your lips but disappeared in an instant, “but after today…” Your voice trailed off but Javier was waiting for you to continue. His sad eyes were locked onto your face as you stared at his hands in yours. “I want a family, I really do. But I just think about those kids today. What if those were our kids. Kids who just wanted to play out on the street, and now…”

“Oh angel,” His voice was raspy and you looked up to see tears in his own eyes. “I love you so much, and I know your pain, because it’s mine too. Not a day goes by that I don’t worry about our future, about our family. When we get to that point, where we’re ready to settle down, I’ll take an office job. I won’t care what I’ll do at that point. We’ll move anywhere we want, as long as I have you, and any little ones we bring along.” He smiled lightly as his hand came to rest on your jaw. His words brought tears to your eyes. You didn’t realize how much Javier thought about the future between the two of you. He had a plan for every scenario; he would quit his job tomorrow if it meant having you by his side.

“I love you Javi,” You whispered and planted a small kiss to his cheek.

“Eres mi vida (You are my life), I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He moved his hand down to the back of your neck, pulling you in for a soft kiss. It was so gentle, like he knew how fragile you still felt. His lips felt like the softest silk and the warmest blanket. “Let’s get you back to sleep now.”

“I’m sorry- for waking you up,” You apologized as you laid back down on your pillow. Javier laid facing you, his arms shifting you closer.

“You didn’t wake me. I remember my first nightmare from a mission. I wanted to be awake to help you through yours.” He explained in a low, tired voice. He sacrificed his own sleep just so he could console you when yours was interrupted.

“Oh,” you muttered. You wrapped an arm around his torso. God, you thought, you would be totally lost without him.

You saw Javier smiling to himself, “You’re stronger than you think querida.”

You just shook your head, “I don’t know that I did to deserve you Javi…”

His hand lightly massaged the side of your hip, “You’ve got the purest heart of anyone I’ve ever met, cariño.” He kissed the top of your head, and before you knew it your eyelids felt heavy and you were pulled into sleep again.

Javier sighed to himself, “Dulces sueños mi amor. (Sweet dreams my love.)”

[amyispxnk]

Mi Niña Hermosa

Masterlist

Summary - Javier gets you pregnant, but then he gets scared, leaving you to raise your little girl all alone. One day, he sees you working at a brothel to try and make ends meet, and realises what he needs to do.

A/N: for this ask! i hope you like it pookie<3 also please excuse any bad spanish! i tried my best with it but it might not be 100% accurate.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Word count: 2k

Warnings: mentions of sex work and sex, violence, language, pregnancy/children, arguing, brief suicidal ideation, hurt+comfort, angst, men being men

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

“Shh, shh, Carmen, mi amor. Está bien,” you plead with your baby daughter. She’s been up for the past hour because of yet another explosion a few blocks away. You think it was a car bomb this time, but does it really matter? All you know for sure is that Carmen is not going to let you sleep through the night because of it.

She’s almost 12 months old now, which means it's been almost 2 years since you last saw Javi. You hate yourself for it, but sometimes you look at your little girl and feel bitter. It’s not her fault, but she was the reason that Javi finally said goodbye to you.

You both knew it was a long time coming, but when you showed him a positive pregnancy test that night, you yelled at each other until your throats were raw and all your tears had been cried, before he slammed the door in your face and left you there. It was the final time you saw him.

Because of Carmen’s deadbeat father, you ended up in a brothel. It was one of the hardest decisions of your life, but you knew you had to do it for her.

“¡Muy bien chicas, salgan y ganen algo de dinero!” You want to jump out of this building, is your first thought. Crash all the way to the floor and forfeit this terrible life you’ve been ‘blessed with’. But you can’t. So you hold your head high, plaster on a smile, and walk out into the lobby of the brothel.

Your smile drops when you see him.

Of all the fucking brothels to go to, he chooses this one? The one you just so happened to start working at a week prior? That tenth-storey window looks even more tempting right now, especially when he locks eyes with you.

He’s with a man, blonde hair, blue eyes. You think that man’s name is Steve Murphy. Yes, you’ve seen them on the news. Who the fuck hasn’t? It just makes you even more frustrated. He left you and Carmen behind so that he could hunt down Pablo Escobar. He abandoned the two of you for fame.

Javi’s eyes dart back and forth between you and Steve, before he starts making his way towards you.

Hell to the fucking no. You turn on your heel and almost drag a man you noticed was ogling you for the past 5 minutes into one of the rooms, letting the curtains close behind you, separating you from Javi.

The time you share with that man is no different than any of the other men you’ve been with, all uncomfortable and gross for you, mind-blowingly good for him.

Sometimes you still think of Javi when you feel a man on top of you. He was the best you had, after all.

Outside, Javi curses loudly, drawing the eye of a few people and his partner.

“What the fuck was that, Javi? We’re here to question the girl, not chase after this random. Your dry spell that bad?” Steve laughs, clapping him on the back. Javi quickly shrugs him off, jaw clenched and gaze hollow.

“I know her.” He mutters. Yes, he knows you. He knows every part of you. Your smile, which he only saw on a rare occasion. Your eyes, which could always pierce him, see straight through his soul and see the worst parts of him. Your body, which you now sell because of him.

Steve is still yapping on about something or other whilst the storm inside of Javi swirls, growing and growing. You’re behind that curtain, selling your body. He knows why you’re doing it too, and it makes him feel even worse. He feels like he’s about to pass out as it all hits him at once.

What a piece of shit he’s been.

You don’t deserve this life. You deserve to be happy, supported and protected by someone, anyone who can help you. Not Javi though. He’s not fit to be a father. After what he’s seen, what he’s done, he could never care for something as precious as your baby.

But he knows what men are like. Knows that, somehow, he’s one of the better men in this country. It’s not a high bar to pass, this he knows too, but he figures that it must be why you have to work here to provide for yourself and his child. Fuck. He doesn’t even know the gender, the name. He wasn’t there for you at all, and he should have been.

It feels like there’s no going back though. How could he ever apologise enough or make it up to you? What he’s done is irreversible. Just from the way you reacted when you saw him now, it feels like it’ll be impossible to try to apologise to you.

He thinks of his father, his mother. How disappointed would they be? They probably already were, but with this? Abandoning a girl with a child he gave her?

They would surely disown him.

He feels like he’s been ungrateful too. After being raised by two loving and caring parents, how could he leave his own child without one? And with a life like this?

He runs a hand down his face, telling Steve to shut up. A loud shout from the man behind the curtain, surely finishing without giving you a moment of pleasure. He knows what you sound like when the sex is good. You barely made a peep in these past 5 minutes.

The man walks out, commenting on ‘how good that slut was’ as he walks past Javi and Steve, and it takes everything in him not to punch him square in the face there and then.

“I need to talk to her, Steve. 5 minutes.” Javi decides suddenly. He can’t let this go on.

“You better not be fucking on the job, Javi.”

He grunts in response, entering the room and letting the curtains slide closed behind him.

The entire world goes still, silent just for the two of you. Almost 2 years have gone by, and this is how you meet. The shame almost swallows him whole.

“I’m so sorry.” He says, before you can even register what’s happening, because he knows you’ll be ready to kick and scream to get him away from you when you do.

Unsurprisingly, your eyes well with tears, and your face twists into one of disgust.

“Why the fuck are you here.” You spit, holding your robe tighter around yourself.

“We were here for a job, and-”

“Do you think I actually care? You fucked off two years ago, I don’t want to see you back here now. Whatever it is you want, I don’t care.” You interrupt. Yes, this was going to be as difficult as he thought.

“Baby, please just-”

“Don’t fucking call me that! You don’t get to call me that!” You shout. He’s on borrowed time before somebody comes and escorts him out of here.

“Just listen to me, please. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He pleads, desperate for you to listen. He doesn’t know how to get his message across to you.

Your tears burst forth, fat droplets cascading down your skin as you turn away from him.

“Go away, Javier. I don’t want to see your face ever again. I see it in her everyday and it already haunts me enough.”

His baby is a girl.

“I’m here to talk about her. I… I want to help. I’m so sorry for leaving. I got scared. I thought- I wasn’t ready to take care of something as precious as a baby… I thought you would get hurt if it was discovered that a DEA agent like myself had a child.”

“Yeah. Agente de la DEA, Javier fucking Peña,” you scoff, “who abandoned his child in pursuit of fame. To catch a bad guy. Some fucking hero you think you are.”

He can’t get angry with you. He won’t. However wrong you are about what you just said. He won’t do it.

“I don’t want fame.” He grits out. How much of an asshole is he that you thought he would leave you for fame? “I’m trying to help this country. It was dangerous enough for me to see you regularly, you know this. If I was seen with a woman and a child, they wouldn’t waste a second trying to kill you both. I couldn’t let that happen to you. I care about you. Please understand, baby.” He begs you again, hand carefully reaching for your shoulder and turning you to face him. You’re still sniffling, silent tears falling down your cheeks as you refuse to meet his gaze.

“Mírame.” He whispers, cupping your jaw and tilting your head up so he can see your eyes.

“Please, I’m sorry.” He says. He’ll say it thousands, millions of times, it still won’t be enough, but he can see that you’re starting to understand.

“It’s been 2 years. I had to be pregnant and raise her all by myself. Not once did you check on me.”

“I was scared. I was being a coward, I know. I… I won’t be surprised if you tell me to leave again, but let me help pay for her. I don’t want you working here. It’s dangerous.” He murmurs, eyes shining with emotion as he looks into yours.

You shake your head, and he gets ready to argue about it, but you pull him closer, squeezing the air out of him and shaking with sobs again.

“I’ve needed you for so long. I- I don’t know how I managed this long. I need you, Javi.” You choke out, his heart shattering with every word until it’s laid out on the floor for you.

“I know. I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry.” He soothes, running his hand through your hair.

Over the next month, he helps you leave the brothel, gives you some money to get on your feet. You still live apart, despite his protests that you’d be safer living with him, you’re not ready yet.

Today you figure will be the decider of that. He’s going to meet Carmen.

You rub your eyes as the morning sun hits you, rousing you from your sleep. The clock reads 9:37. Just over 20 minutes until your daughter finally meets her father.

The 20 minutes are spent waking and feeding her, before a knock on the door stops you.

You exhale shakily and walk to the door, opening it slowly.

“Hola, Javi.” You say softly. He greets you, equally timid. You notice he’s holding a little teddy bear in his hands, almost making you laugh at how it looks being held by this big brooding man, but you just shake your head.

“Come and meet her.” You murmur, opening the door further so he can step inside.

There, messing around on your bed, is the most beautiful little girl he’s ever seen. He can definitely see his features on her face. The lips, the eyes. She got your nose, thankfully he thinks, and her hair is a unique blend of yours and Javi’s.

“She’s so beautiful.” He whispers, and you just nod, still unsure of your feelings for him right now.

“Carmen, baby, say hello.” You coo, picking her up and bringing her over to Javi. He’s quiet, scared, as always. But then she babbles at him, clapping her hands together and trying to reach for him. The teddy. He almost forgot about it.

“Hola pequeña, soy tu papá. ¿Quieres el peluche?” He says softly, waving it around a bit before handing it to her and letting her play. You and Javi talk for a bit while she sits on the bed, but then something happens. She gets tired, which is normal around 2pm, but instead of crawling to you, she goes to Javi. Carmen wraps her little fingers around one of his larger ones, curling up in his lap. The two of you still, and it shocks you to see tears appearing in his eyes as he strokes her hair, letting her sleep on him.

You decide to move in with him that night, realising that you don’t want him to be away from you and Carmen ever again.

TYSM for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! 💞

[shadyfestivalperfection]

Rose Blood and Marble Eyes~Oneshot

Summery: Bucky becomes obsessed with a kindergarten teacher hiding a monstrous secret—until obsession turns to partnership, and their darkness begins to bloom together.

Characters: dark!Bucky Barnes x serial killer!f!reader

Warnings: Depictions of abuse (emotional, physical, sexual), Stalking and obsession, past abuse, references to rape, organ removal, Serial killing, Psychological trauma, Sexual content . OK OK YA,too many warnings just know that’s it’s for 18+ readers….maybe?

||Main Masterlist|| ||Oneshot Masterlist||

Bucky was alone.

Not metaphorically. Not romantically.

Utterly, viscerally alone.

His apartment was too quiet. No laughter. No messages. No familiar footfalls echoing through the hall. No Steve to brood with. No Sam to pull him into reluctant banter. Sam was always too busy now—leading teams, holding meetings, being good. And Bucky?

Bucky was a rusted-out weapon, laid to rest before anyone figured out how to turn him off properly.

He didn’t belong in this world, and the world didn’t care. It spun anyway. Relentlessly.

—

5:02 AM.-

Bucky woke with a sharp breath, drenched in cold sweat, clenching phantom screams between his teeth. It was always like this. Sometimes it was the chair. Sometimes it was the blood. Sometimes it was the soft sound of someone whispering in Russian just before they tore him out of himself.

He stared at the ceiling for a long time.

He didn’t sleep in a bed. The couch felt safer. Easier to escape from. He showered mechanically, his eyes hollow, his movements memorized. Water. Towel. Coffee. One mug. No sugar. Black as his thoughts.

By 6:30, he was walking. Leather jacket, hood up, earbuds in. Music he didn’t listen to. Just something to muffle the hum of the world.

The city was half-awake—delivery trucks, mothers yelling at toddlers, early birds pretending they loved mornings. He watched them all from behind invisible glass.

No one looked at him twice.

No one saw the man with a metal arm and haunted eyes.

He liked it that way.

—

It was a Tuesday. He knew because the sky was overcast and he’d worn his gloves instead of his leather jacket. Routine.

Until the knock.

Three soft raps. Not urgent. Not loud. Just enough.

Bucky frowned.

He never got visitors.

His hand ghosted toward the knife wedged beneath the coffee table. Just in case.

He cracked the door open.

And stared.

A small boy stood there. Freckles. Bowl-cut. Tiny blue backpack with cartoon sharks. One of his shoelaces was untied.

The kid sniffled. “Mister?”

Bucky blinked. “Yeah?”

“I’m Kevin. My mommy and daddy are fighting again. I don’t wanna be late to school. Can you take me?”

He pointed down the hallway toward apartment 1B. A crash sounded behind the door.

Bucky sighed. “Wait here.”

Mrs. Murphy didn’t even pretend to be surprised. She answered the door red-eyed, lipstick smeared.

“He just needs a ride,” Bucky said.

“Yeah, yeah, of course—thank you. Sunny Creek on Maple. He knows the way.”

That was it. No offer to repay him. No mention of trust. Just desperation.

Bucky looked down at Kevin.

The kid smiled. “Do you have a motorcycle?”

“No,” He lied. “We walk.”

They didn’t talk much. Bucky appreciated that. Kevin was too busy narrating his own life to notice Bucky’s silence.

“My lion’s name is Mufasa. I named him after the movie. Not the new one. The old one with the real drawings.”

Bucky grunted.

“I like glitter. It’s my favorite color.”

“Not a color.”

“Yes it is.”

Kevin skipped beside him. Bucky found himself slowing his pace so the boy wouldn’t fall behind. When they reached the kindergarten—a small colorful building nestled between two sleepy cafés—Kevin ran ahead.

And then Bucky saw her.

She was crouched down near the gates, tying a little girl’s shoelace. Her cardigan was yellow, cheerful. It had smudges of finger paint—red, green, and something that might’ve been chocolate. She had a warmth about her. Not fake. Not forced. It was the kind of warmth that made people lower their guard.

Her voice was soft, singing some rhyme under her breath.

Kevin ran up to her. “Miss L/N!”

She turned, beamed, stood.

And that was when Bucky’s breath caught.

She was beautiful.

But more than that—she was wrong.

Not in a monstrous way. In a polished, intentional way. Like porcelain. Like something sculpted to almost be real.

Her eyes met his.

Stillness.

“Kevin,” she smiled. “You made it. And who’s this?”

Kevin grabbed Bucky’s hand. “This is Mister Barnes. He brought me.”

She extended her hand. “Thank you, Mister Barnes. I’m Y/N. I teach Kevin’s class.”

Bucky stared at her hand, then at her face.

And he saw it.

Just for a second, her smile didn’t reach her eyes. There was a flicker—too cold, too sharp. He’d seen killers smile like that.

But then it was gone.

“You’re welcome,” Bucky murmured.

“Maybe we’ll see you again,” she said.

She turned and walked into the school, Kevin at her side.

And Bucky couldn’t stop staring.

“She’s not just beautiful. She’s… wrong. And I think I like that.”

That evening, Y/N stepped out of her car and into her neat little house with flower boxes by the windows. Inside, the walls were decorated with crayon drawings and cheerful quotes about children.

She walked past them all and locked the kitchen door behind her.

Then she opened the floor.

The entrance to the basement was hidden beneath the pantry shelves. She descended into cool, still darkness.

Glass jars lined the shelves like trophies.

Twelve in total.

Each with a floating human heart.

Each labeled with a name and zodiac sign.

She hummed as she peeled off her cardigan. Reached for her apron. Pulled on gloves.

She glanced at the man bound to the steel chair in the corner—taped mouth, panicked eyes, blood crusting the corner of his temple.

He whimpered.

“Shhhh,” she said, voice soft and practiced. “You’re ruining the moment.”

She crouched in front of him, tilting her head. “You stole from me.”

He whimpered again.

She stood and picked up the scalpel. Not yet. First, she needed to explain. That was part of it. The cleansing.

“I spent years crafting my signature,” she said, circling him. “A black rose soaked in blood. A single white knight chess piece beside it. Beautiful. Symbolic. I killed Damon under Taurus because he was born April 22nd. That monster used to rape me while saying he loved me. I took his heart and gave him meaning in death. He became art.”

She ran her fingers along the blade of the scalpel.

“And then you—some bored little blogger—decide it’s a trend. You post theories, videos. You dress it up like it’s a scavenger hunt.”

She stopped in front of him. Bent down.

“I bled for this. I cleaned bone for this. I am this.”

She leaned in, lips at his ear.

“You took my ritual and turned it into a punchline.”

He sobbed behind the tape.

She hummed.

“Art should be sacred, don’t you think?”

She began by slicing gently beneath the ribs, tracing the path over the sternum. The scalpel glinted beneath the surgical lights. She worked in silence. Steady hands. Detached mind.

The rib spreader cracked bone.

She didn’t flinch.

The man screamed behind the tape.

His heart thudded fast. Panicked. The way they all did.

She carved it free with reverence. Slid it into the sterile jar.

A new label awaited.

Taurus.

Name: Caleb Reed.

Offense: Plagiarism.

She placed a blood-soaked black rose and a white knight chess piece inside his chest cavity.

Then stitched it shut.

She sat back, sweaty and content. Her eyes fluttered closed as she listened to the final silence.

Peace.

The first peace she’d felt since that morning.

But as she cleaned the blade, her thoughts drifted again.

To him.

The man with the quiet stare. The ghost eyes. The metal hand.

James Barnes.

Not just broken. Disassembled.

She grinned.

“So that’s what you are,” she whispered. “You’re not like them. You see me.”

And for the first time in a long while, she felt something bloom in her chest that wasn’t rage.

Interest.

—

Bucky hadn’t meant to follow her. Not the first time.

It started as something passive, something almost innocent—a glance through the blinds as she stepped out in the early morning light, coffee thermos in hand, her smile loose and sleepy as she waved to the mailman.

But something about her lingered in his mind. Stuck like a splinter. Not the kind that hurts—but the kind that itches. Constantly. The kind that makes you scratch until you bleed.

She wasn’t like the others.

And that… that fascinated him.

__

He told himself it was routine. That he was watching out for Kevin. That he didn’t trust people easily, and Miss L/N seemed too perfect to be real. Teachers don’t glow like that. People don’t hum as they water sunflowers. The darkness of the world doesn’t miss people like her.

Unless she wasn’t what she seemed.

He started walking past the school more often. Didn’t matter that it was fifteen blocks out of the way. He made it part of his morning run. Routine. Harmless.

Until it wasn’t.

It began with the photos.

He wasn’t proud of it. But shame is just another flavor of obsession when it’s too late to stop.

The first photo was blurry—taken with trembling fingers through the crack of a kitchen window. She was sitting at the dining table alone, drinking tea, her cardigan sliding down one shoulder.

The second was clearer. She was tying Kevin’s shoelaces on the school steps, her fingers gentle, her mouth forming soft laughter that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

He filled an entire folder with them.

Then a wall.

It started like a soldier’s mind-map. Just lines and data, sketches, printouts, scraps of conversations he overheard at the playground.

Y/N L/N. Age: 29. Birthplace: [Your birthplace]. Foster child. No priors. No tickets. Not even a parking citation. Worked as a nanny before finishing her teaching license. Has worked at Sunny Creek Elementary for six years. Beloved by parents. Praised by staff.

Too clean.

Too polished.

Too perfect.

Bucky didn’t believe in perfect.

At night, he’d sit in his bedroom, eyes roving the wall covered in her photos and strings and timelines. One red thread connected a blurry photo of a burned-out warehouse in Queens with a classified case report from Interpol. Another ran to a crime scene snapshot he’d hacked from a cold case in Delaware—same signature, same symbols.

The black rose.

The white knight.

Always the same pairing. Always placed delicately at the chest of the victims—like a calling card in poetry and gore.

He didn’t know why, but his gut screamed it was her.

She had no motive. No connections. No reason to be at the sites.

But the precision… the pattern… it was intentional. Like art.

He didn’t tell Sam. Didn’t tell anyone.

Not yet.

This was his.

__

The nights were the worst.

He began camping out across from her house, silent and invisible. The shadows welcomed him like old friends.

She always turned out the lights by ten-thirty. Her curtains were thin. Sometimes, he could make out her silhouette as she brushed her hair, folded a cardigan, moved like a lullaby through rooms that smelled of cinnamon and sugar.

He snapped a photo once—just once—when she fell asleep on the couch, curled beneath a yellow blanket with a picture book open on her chest. She looked like a dream someone had painted too delicately for the real world.

But dreams, he knew, had sharp teeth.

Then came the night everything changed.

It was cold. Rain misted the sidewalks like breath. Bucky had parked himself in the alley across the street from her house, sipping lukewarm coffee as his breath fogged the car windows.

10:46 PM.

The front door opened.

And she stepped out.

Not in her usual cardigans or floral skirts.

She wore black.

Tight. Functional. Efficient. A hoodie, pulled up low over her head. Gloves. Boots that didn’t make a sound.

No purse.

No smile.

No warmth.

Bucky’s body tensed.

She locked the door behind her. Walked down the steps. Didn’t glance around. Didn’t check her surroundings.

Which meant she wasn’t afraid.

That was the part that chilled him.

People wore black to blend in. To hide. To stalk. To kill.

He followed.

She walked two blocks south before turning into an alley behind a string of rundown apartment buildings. Her pace never wavered. She didn’t pause. Didn’t look back.

A man waited there. Bucky saw him only for a second—a flicker of motion, the glow of a cigarette, the lean of shoulders cocky and predatory.

Then they both disappeared behind the dumpsters.

Bucky’s pulse stuttered. He crossed the street, boots silent, shadow sharp. He approached the alley’s edge like a ghost.

He heard… nothing.

Not a grunt.

Not a shout.

Not a struggle.

Silence.

Dead and patient.

Then, five minutes later—she emerged.

Alone.

Face calm. Pace unchanged.

She passed within ten feet of him, her eyes blank, unreadable. She didn’t see him. Or maybe she did and just didn’t care.

Bucky waited ten more minutes before he went in.

The man was gone.

But the ground told a different story.

There was blood. Small, precise. Spatter on the wall. A trail that disappeared beneath a dumpster.

No body.

Just…

Two things placed with eerie precision.

A white knight chess piece.

And a black rose, soaked in blood.

Bucky stared at them.

Then slowly—without understanding why—he picked them up. Wrapped them in a handkerchief. Slid them into his pocket.

He didn’t go home that night.

He sat in his apartment stairwell until morning.

Just breathing.

Just thinking.

—

He kept the chess piece and the rose in a velvet box.

Not for sentiment.

For evidence.

Evidence of what, he couldn’t explain—not yet. But the weight of them in his palm grounded him, clearer than a thousand voices in his head. Her signature, her code. It was poetry scrawled in blood and silence.

He placed the box on a shelf in his room. Right beneath her photographs.

The wall was growing.

He had pinned every school calendar, every teacher’s workshop notice, every newsletter with her name at the bottom. He cross-referenced dates of unsolved murders and disappearances—scanning for geography, timing, zodiac signs. He didn’t know what the hearts and constellations meant to her. But they meant something.

The strings he ran between them weren’t random.

They were a map of her mind.

The hallucinations began again.

They used to be different. Ghosts of Hydra days. Blood in his mouth. Screaming in Russian. Screaming in English. Screaming in silence.

But now…

Now it was her.

He’d close his eyes and she’d be there. Standing in the doorway of his apartment, rain misting through her hair, eyes catching the dim light like wet marble.

“You saw me,” she’d whisper. “You really saw me.”

She’d sit beside him on the couch, legs tucked beneath her, like a visiting shadow. Her voice would wrap around his bones. Sometimes she’d hum.

And sometimes she’d ask, “Do you think they deserved it?”

He never answered.

But he never said no.

He hacked into local police systems again—sloppy, reckless work he would’ve scolded himself for months ago. Not now. Not when every report, every cold file, every body he looked at fed the timeline on his wall.

There was a pattern.

Every victim male. Ages ranging from twenty-five to forty-five. All with a violent or abusive record. Charges dropped. Plea deals made. The system failed them. Or maybe the system never tried.

They were all born under same zodiac signs. And always—always—a white knight chess piece placed in their chest cavity. A black rose soaked in blood.

And their hearts were gone.

Surgically removed.

This wasn’t just a pattern.

This was a mission.

The worst of it?

There was no proof. No fingerprints. No DNA. Nothing but the calling card. Every crime was executed with surgical precision and artistic flair.

And yet Y/N L/N had no record. Not a parking violation. Not a note in a file.

He ran a background check three times.

It kept coming up clean.

Too clean.

Like someone had scrubbed it.

Which only made her more dangerous.

He followed her again.

He told himself he wouldn’t. But he did.

Night after night, slipping through shadows, boots on rooftops, eyes behind dark glass. He tracked her from school to home, from home to the local market. He memorized the way her fingers brushed across avocados. The way she helped an elderly woman into a taxi without hesitation.

She was the portrait of warmth.

Of goodness.

Of trust.

And none of it felt real.

One night, something changed.

She didn’t go home right after school.

She walked two blocks north, then into a coffee shop he’d never seen her enter before. She sat at a booth, facing the window, smiling as a man in a pressed shirt and expensive watch slid into the seat across from her.

Bucky froze outside the glass.

Was she on a date?

His stomach twisted. His fists clenched.

He moved to the other side of the street, ducked behind a newspaper stand. Watched. Waited.

The man smiled. Talked too much. Gestured with his hands.

She smiled back. Tilted her head. Laughed.

But Bucky saw it.

The smile didn’t reach her eyes.

They left the café together. Walked slowly. The man tried to take her hand. She let him.

Bucky followed.

All the way to the subway. Then three stops south. Then another alley.

His pulse was a snare drum in his throat.

She led the man behind an old nightclub—shut down years ago after a shooting. Broken neon still hung on the rusted door like a ghost tongue.

The man leaned in to kiss her.

And she let him.

But something was off. Her posture. Her eyes.

She stepped back, into the shadows.

He followed.

Bucky counted thirty seconds.

Then a minute.

Then nothing.

Then—

She emerged.

Alone.

Again.

No smirk. No panic. Calm. Hair smooth. Hands gloved.

And she vanished into the night like a song with no chorus.

He approached the alley when he was sure she was gone.

Same signs.

Blood.

Minimal.

Efficient.

A black rose on the wet pavement.

A white knight, set upright like a relic.

But this time—no body. Just the implication of absence.

The man was gone.

Erased.

Bucky took the chess piece and the flower again.

Added them to the velvet box.

__

He sat on the floor of his apartment, back against the wall, head between his knees. Sweat pooled at the collar of his shirt.

He should report her.

He knew that.

But something rotted inside him when he thought about it.

He didn’t want her caught.

He wanted to understand her.

He wanted to know why.

—

The dreams worsened.

Now she sat at the edge of his bed.

Whispered things in the dark.

“You know what I am,” she’d murmur, voice sticky with silk. “But you’re still watching. That makes you worse than me, doesn’t it?”

Sometimes she kissed his forehead before fading.

Sometimes she dug her nails into his chest.

He’d wake up gasping, his shirt wet with sweat. Hard. Ache curling in his stomach. Her name bitten into his mouth like a curse.

He never touched himself.

It felt wrong.

It wasn’t lust.

It was worship.

One night, she looked straight at him.

Not a dream.

Real.

He was across the street. She was closing her curtains. And her eyes—dark and still—met his through the glass.

Just for a second.

Long enough for his throat to lock.

Long enough for something cruel to slither across her lips.

Not fear.

Not surprise.

Something else.

Recognition.

Then she closed the curtains.

And Bucky didn’t move for fifteen minutes.

—

Bucky didn’t know when exactly it changed.

When the weight of truth tipped into something else—devotion, protection, obsession… love, if the word could even survive such dark soil.

He should’ve turned her in. Every fiber of his rational mind had screamed it from rooftops. He’d seen killers before. Had been one. Knew the darkness that lived in the quiet moments between death and sleep.

But Y/N wasn’t just darkness.

She was elegance carved from rot. Fire in a glass cage. And the world didn’t deserve to touch her.

So he watched.

And then he started helping.

It began with the detective.

A man named Harrow. Mid-forties. Former military. Just enough suspicion in his eyes to sniff at the edges of her trail.

Bucky saw him before Y/N did.

Harrow sat in a nondescript car three streets down from her house. Not writing, not talking. Just watching. With binoculars. With notes.

With interest.

Bucky waited until nightfall. Slipped into the man’s room like a shadow with hands.

There was no pleasure in it.

Only precision.

Harrow died quietly. No struggle. Neck snapped clean between Bucky’s palms. He made it look like a robbery gone wrong. Took the notes. Burned them.

Left behind a rose petal and a chess piece.

Not hers.

His.

A different kind of tribute.

Then there was the stalker.

From her college, if the photos Bucky dug up were right. The man had changed his name after prison. Now he worked maintenance three blocks from the school.

Bucky saw him near the playground. Saw how his eyes lingered. How his hand twitched when Y/N bent down to speak to a child. Too familiar. Too hungry.

That night, the man disappeared.

The body was never found.

Y/N never knew.

But Bucky made sure the man’s last sight was a pair of steel-blue eyes and the whisper:

“She’s not yours.”

The wall in Bucky’s bedroom grew thicker. Not with threats now, but with worship.

Photos of her. Sleeping, mostly.

He couldn’t help it.

She slept with one arm beneath her pillow. Hair fanned out like spilled ink. Peaceful. Vulnerable in a way she never was while awake.

It felt sacred to witness.

He hung the photos with surgical care. Connected them with red string—not to trace evidence anymore, but to map his longing.

He knew how sick it was.

He didn’t care.

And then the notes began.

Short. Cryptic. Careful.

Folded in perfect squares and tucked in odd places.

One inside her mailbox. One beneath her windshield wiper. One on the back of a child’s drawing left on her desk.

No name. Just words. Fragments.

“Your blade is art. I’ve watched you carve justice.”

“He would’ve hurt you. I made sure he won’t.”

“I saw your rose. It was beautiful.”

Sometimes he left photographs, too.

Of her victims. But from angles she hadn’t taken.

From above. From rooftops. From behind dumpsters. Caught mid-action. Proof that he’d been there all along.

A twisted, voyeuristic kind of intimacy.

And Y/N…

She said nothing.

But she started locking her windows less.

The night she found the final note was different.

It wasn’t hidden. It wasn’t subtle.

It was taped to her mirror.

“You’re not alone anymore.”

She didn’t panic.

She didn’t scream.

She smiled.

And then she wrote a letter of her own.

Addressed only: To the Watcher.

She left it inside a hollow tree two streets from her house. The one she’d seen him pass three nights in a row. The one she knew he paused at just long enough to notice.

And Bucky?

He read it with trembling hands.

“Come find me. I want to meet the man who’s been holding my ghost.”

She left coordinates.

An abandoned farmhouse on the edge of the city.

No traps. No weapons. No SWAT.

Just an open door.

And a red string, tied to the porch rail, fluttering in the wind.

The house was old. Dead wood. Dusty floorboards. Windows like hollowed eyes.

Bucky stepped inside like a soldier returning to a battlefield he never fought in.

And she was waiting.

At the center of the room.

Alone.

No fear in her posture.

No judgment.

She wore black—hoodie, gloves, boots. But her face was bare.

Her eyes met his without hesitation.

Like she’d been watching him all this time.

He stood still.

And she asked, softly,

“How long have you been watching me?”

His breath caught. His voice was hoarse when he answered:

“Since the moment I saw you tie that kid’s shoe.”

Something flickered in her. A laugh, maybe. A sigh. A realization.

Then she turned. Walked to a crate at the far end of the room. Picked something up.

A knife.

She held it out to him. Balanced in both palms.

Not a threat.

An invitation.

“Would you help me?”

Bucky didn’t blink.

“Only if I get to keep your photo in my wallet.”

Silence.

Then—

She smiled.

And this time, it reached her eyes.

—

It was raining again.

Same as the night she killed her first victim.

But now there were two shadows beneath the streetlights.

Y/N crouched over the corpse, her gloved fingers brushing the blood off the victim’s face. It was a rapist. A repeat offender who preyed on women walking alone at night. The system had let him go.

She hadn’t.

And neither had Bucky.

He stood nearby, silent, watching her.

No words were exchanged.

She slit the chest open. Pulled the heart free.

Bucky caught the blood in a silver bowl before it hit the pavement.

They moved like choreography.

Like lovers who’d danced in death before.

After the body was staged—black rose across the chest, chess piece tucked into the exposed ribcage—Y/N stood, smeared with blood, heart still beating fast from the rush.

Bucky handed her a wipe.

She took it. Their fingers touched.

Still no words.

She looked up at him, breath uneven.

“You didn’t hesitate tonight,” she said.

He met her gaze.

“I haven’t hesitated since the day I saw your blade.”

Her lips parted.

“I didn’t think anyone could ever understand.”

“I don’t,” he whispered. “I just belong here. With you.”

A pause.

Long enough to feel.

And then—

She kissed him.

Hard. Messy. Blood between their mouths. Her hands in his hair. His arms around her waist like iron.

It wasn’t romance.

It was release.

And it tasted like justice.

—

They didn’t move in together.

Didn’t call it love.

But everything shifted.

Bucky began watching her more openly. Guarding her.

When a teacher at school brushed her arm too long, Bucky shattered his side mirror that night.

When a parent lingered too close during a class pickup, Bucky followed him home and made sure he never came back.

Y/N never asked him to.

But when she saw a photo on her desk the next day—a candid of the flirty teacher walking home, timestamped and labeled “handled”—she didn’t question it.

She just smiled.

And left a rose in Bucky’s mailbox.

Their partnership deepened.

She chose the targets. Marked them. Lured them.

Bucky cleaned up the aftermath.

Burned tapes. Scrubbed footprints. Redirected police scanners.

When she carved, he watched.

When he snapped necks, she steadied his shoulder.

It was a silent kind of love.

A worship painted in arterial red.

—

Their next kiss happened after the third kill.

In a hotel bathroom.

Blood on her wrists. Splatter across Bucky’s jaw.

She grabbed his shirt, pulled him in.

He kissed her like a man drowning in flame.

—

The wall in Bucky’s apartment changed.

Her photos remained. But now, her victims were there too.

A map. A timeline.

She visited once. Saw it.

Didn’t speak for a full minute.

Then she turned to him, eyes burning.

“You’ve been building this for how long?”

“Since the moment I knew what you were.”

She touched one of the red strings. Then his jaw.

“Show me how you see me.”

He led her to the bedroom.

They made love like animals who’d never known tenderness.

—

They never said “I love you.”

They didn’t need to.

They said it in other ways.

In the way Bucky traced her spine with reverence.

In the way Y/N let him see her after a kill—vulnerable, open.

In the way he kissed her scars.

In the way she whispered: “I picked the next one. Want to help me paint?”

And he said, “Only if I can sign it with you.”

They killed a man in a suit two nights later. A politician. Child molester. Her pick.

She gutted him. Bucky burned the files in the fireplace. Their bodies moved like clockwork. Precision. Elegance.

When it was done, they stood side by side, soaked in blood, watching the embers flicker.

Their eyes met.

He leaned in. She didn’t stop him.

The kiss was savage. Teeth, blood, breath. It wasn’t gentle—it wasn’t love—it was hunger, raw and feral.

Her fingers curled in his hair.

He pulled her closer by the waist.

After, they sat beside the corpse, legs touching, not speaking.

She let her head rest on his shoulder.

—

He saw the way Mr. Grady—the PE teacher—smiled at her.

He saw how his hand brushed hers when he passed her the clipboard.

That night, Bucky waited in Grady’s parking lot. Slashed his tires. Left a chess piece on his windshield.

No killing. Just a warning.

Y/N didn’t say anything. But the next day, she brushed her hand along Bucky’s arm when no one was watching.

It was enough.

They never called it love.

But every time she chose a victim, he was there.

Every time someone looked at her wrong, he noticed.

Every time she smiled, he remembered the first time she looked up from Kevin and met his eyes—and how he’d known, instantly, that she was the mirror of everything broken in him.

And he couldn’t look away.

—

The rain came down like judgment—unforgiving, slamming against pavement in dense sheets, the sky splitting open with flashes of cold light. It wasn’t the sort of rain that soothed or healed. This rain punished. It erased. It silenced. It devoured the evidence of sins left behind in alleyways.

Y/N was running.

Her breath tore out of her lungs in ragged, uneven pulls, her boots striking the slick asphalt with panicked rhythm. Her hoodie was soaked through, clinging to her body. The thin black gloves she wore were dark with blood, the knife still clenched in her right hand trembling with every step.

The blood wasn’t hers.

But that didn’t matter.

She was losing control. She had always been careful, methodical, ritualistic. Her kills were paintings—precision and meaning in every cut, every placement of symbols. But tonight… tonight something had gone wrong. Sloppy. Rushed. She had underestimated him. He fought back harder than she expected. He screamed.

Loud enough to attract attention.

A flash of red and blue in the corner of her vision. Sirens. Shouts. That was her cue.

She didn’t get scared. Not usually. But fear had taken root somewhere deep in her belly tonight, cold and slick like oil. This wasn’t a bump in the road. It was a fracture. A crack in the glass. And she wasn’t sure if it would hold.

She turned sharply down a service alley, hopping over a collapsed garbage bin, the sting of adrenaline singing in her veins. Her heart beat like a war drum in her chest, more animal than woman now, operating purely on instinct.

Behind her—footsteps. Not uniformed ones. Slower. Heavier.

She skidded to a stop beside a crumbling brick building and pressed herself against the wall, forcing her breath to slow. Her blade was ready.

But she didn’t use it.

Because she recognized the gait. She felt it before she saw him.

Bucky stepped out of the rain like a shadow made flesh.

His black jacket was slick with water, hair plastered to his face, his expression carved from stone. The metal of his vibranium arm glinted coldly in the stormlight. His eyes met hers beneath the dripping hood she hadn’t realized had fallen from her head.

He didn’t say her name. Didn’t ask what happened.

He just held out his hand.

Y/N stared at it.

Her fingers twitched. This wasn’t part of her plan. Nothing was supposed to reach her. No one. Not like this. She was made to be untouchable. Untethered.

She didn’t trust easily. She barely even breathed around people. And yet… she found herself stepping forward, sliding her hand into his.

It was warm.

No words. No hesitation.

They ran together.

—

Her house was completely dark when they arrived. She had no lights on timers. No neighbors who paid attention. It was one of the reasons she chose the place. The perfect quiet. The perfect cover.

Inside, she peeled off her hoodie and shirt, soaked through to the skin. Her gloves joined the pile on the kitchen counter. Her knife—she didn’t even need to hide it. Bucky had already seen worse.

He closed the door behind them. Locked it. Then bolted it for good measure.

Y/N stood with her back to him, bracing her hands on the edge of the sink as her chest heaved. Rain dripped from her hair. Her undershirt was stuck to her spine like a second skin.

She didn’t speak.

But he came to stand behind her anyway.

“You need to burn the clothes,” he said finally, low.

She nodded once, still facing the sink. “Already planned to.”

“There’s blood on your neck.”

She reached for a towel, but he beat her to it. Gently, Bucky brushed her hair aside and ran the cloth down the line of her jaw, his fingers grazing her skin.

She flinched—not from pain. From awareness.

His voice was quieter when he asked, “What happened?”

Y/N swallowed. “He wasn’t alone. Or… maybe he was. But someone saw me. Heard it.”

“Where?”

“Harper Street. By the loading dock.”

“Did you take the phone?”

“Yes.”

“Cameras?”

“Probably. I was careful. But not careful enough.”

He was silent for a moment. Then: “I’ll handle it.”

She turned then, slowly, eyes narrowing. “Why?”

“You know why.”

They stared at each other in the quiet stormlight filtering through the kitchen window. Her walls were bare. Her knives were clean. Her hands—no longer shaking.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said quietly.

“Too late.”

“I could kill you.”

He smirked, slow and dark. “Try.”

She stepped toward him.

The tension coiled between them like a blade poised at the base of her spine. She should’ve pushed him away. Told him to disappear. Told him to stop helping. To stop seeing her.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she reached up and slid her fingers into the wet strands of his hair, tugging him down. His mouth crashed into hers, sharp and breathless. No hesitation. No preamble. Just hunger.

It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t tender.

It was a release.

Her back slammed against the hallway wall as he lifted her off her feet. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him closer. Their mouths clashed with teeth and tongue, feverish. She wanted to consume him. And he… he let her.

Buttons popped off her shirt, one by one. His metal hand left goosebumps where it touched skin. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders, dragging, marking.

They didn’t make it to the bedroom.

He took her against the wall like it was meant to be this way—urgent, primal, wordless. His breath was hot at her ear as she moaned, legs tightening around him. He held her steady, thrusts deep and bruising.

And she loved it.

Because it was him.

Because it was her.

Because for the first time since her first kill, she didn’t feel alone.

When it was over, she collapsed with him onto the floor, hearts racing in tandem, breath tangled in sweat-slick skin. Her face buried in the crook of his neck, his arms around her waist.

She didn’t say thank you.

She didn’t need to.

Later, hours later, they lay in her bed in silence. The rain had slowed to a whisper. His hand traced idle patterns against her bare back. Her head rested on his chest.

“You should hate me,” she whispered.

He stared at the ceiling. “I don’t.”

“Why?”

He turned to her, brushing hair from her face. “Because I know what it’s like to be made into something the world fears. And I know what it’s like to stop caring.”

She met his eyes. There was no softness in them. Just a brutal kind of honesty. A shared madness.

“You’re not afraid of me,” she murmured.

“No,” he said. “I think I was waiting for you.”

She swallowed. Then: “You shouldn’t wait in the dark.”

He smiled.

“That’s where I live.”

The morning after was deceptively calm.

Golden sunlight spilled across the hardwood floors of Y/N’s bedroom, washing over tangled sheets and exposed skin. The world outside her home seemed too quiet, too still—as if it knew something monstrous had taken place within and dared not disturb its peace.

Bucky was already awake when she stirred.

He hadn’t moved much. He lay beside her, on his side, elbow bent, cheek resting against his knuckles as he watched her sleep. His eyes were unreadable—half-shadowed, even in daylight. Not peaceful. Not relaxed. Just… watchful. Like a predator with nowhere to go.

Y/N blinked up at the ceiling, then turned her head toward him slowly, her voice rough with sleep. “How long have you been staring at me?”

His mouth lifted into a crooked smirk. “Long enough to memorize every eyelash.”

She let out a snort and rolled onto her side, the sheet dragging low across her bare hips. Her fingers toyed with the edge of the pillow as she regarded him. “You’re a menace.”

“I’m your menace,” he murmured, and then, more seriously, “You always look like that when you sleep?”

She blinked. “Like what?”

“Like you’re trying not to dream.”

Y/N didn’t answer right away. Her eyes drifted to the ceiling again. Then she said, “I haven’t dreamed in years.”

There was something haunting in her tone—so quiet it almost didn’t exist. But Bucky caught it. He always did. He tucked her hair behind her ear, thumb grazing her cheek.

“Good,” he said. “Dreams lie.”

A silence settled between them. Not awkward, but thick. Weighted.

Then she sat up, stretching with a wince. Her back cracked. Bucky’s gaze dragged down the length of her spine with open hunger, but she was already halfway out of bed.

“Come on,” she said, tugging on a loose t-shirt and not bothering with anything underneath. “There’s something I want to show you.”

He quirked a brow. “Already?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she called over her shoulder, padding barefoot out of the room. “You’ll want shoes.”

They descended the narrow stairs to the basement, her bare feet thudding softly against wood while Bucky followed behind her, now dressed but still sleep-rumpled. The air grew colder as they went lower. The light dimmed.

He noticed the entrance to the basement was hidden beneath the pantry shelves. She stopped in front of it, pulled out a key from around her neck, and undid the lock with a soft click.

“You trust me now?” he asked, watching her closely.

She didn’t answer. Just pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Bucky followed.

The room was nothing like the rest of the house.

The concrete walls were stained in places, uneven. The temperature dropped instantly. One half was used like a surgical prep room—clean stainless steel counters, industrial sink, shelves stacked with plastic tarps, gloves, sealed surgical blades, chemical bottles. Everything labeled. Everything exact.

The other half?

That was the shrine.

Preserved hearts sat in glass jars, suspended in amber fluid like relics of a darker religion. There were more than he expected. Dozens. Each one meticulously catalogued, labeled in her neat handwriting.

A black blood-splattered rose lay dried and flattened in a case by itself. Next to it—a chessboard with missing pieces. The white knight wasn’t there. He knew why.

Bucky moved forward, slowly, his breath fogging the glass of one jar.

He didn’t speak.

She stood silently behind him, watching his reaction with unreadable eyes. “This is who I am,” she said, her voice low and quiet. “You wanted to see. So look.”

He turned toward her.

“I saw,” he said. “Before you even opened the door.”

Her gaze darkened. “Why didn’t you run?”

“Because I’ve been running all my life.” He stepped closer, bridging the gap between them. “And when I saw you… really saw you… I stopped.”

She looked away. “You don’t even know everything.”

“Then tell me.”

Y/N’s lips parted, then closed again.

And then she whispered, “His name was Damon.”

He stepped closer, eyes catching the label on one:

“#1: Damon - Taurus - May 12”

Flashback-

She was twenty. Bright-eyed. Fragile. A music student who worked part-time in a bookstore and thought the worst thing that could happen was a failed piano recital.

Damon had been a charming man with dark eyes and soft hands. A baritone laugh that she used to feel in her bones. He brought her flowers. Kissed her wrists. Called her “songbird.”

She thought it was love.

It wasn’t.

It was a storm. Slow-moving. Invisible until it crashed down around her.

At first, it was subtle. The isolation. “Why do you hang out with them?” “Your friends don’t really get you.” “They’re just jealous of what we have.”

Then it was control. “I didn’t say you could go out.” “That dress is too tight.” “Who are you texting at this hour?”

Then came the bruises.

Then the silence.

Then the pain between her legs she didn’t know how to explain.

The night she bled on the bathroom floor and he told her it was her fault. That she was frigid. That no one would ever want her.

Something snapped.

She didn’t scream. Didn’t run.

She waited.

Waited until he fell asleep drunk one night, his belt still coiled on the nightstand like a snake. She walked into the kitchen, pulled out the knife he always used to carve the roast, and returned to the bedroom.

She straddled him.

He woke up the moment she plunged the blade into his chest.

But it was too late.

She didn’t stop.

She carved his heart out.

She stared at it for a long time.

Then, she placed it in a glass jar. Her first trophy.

The rest of the night was methodical. She erased him from the world. Chopped the body. Burned the rest. Changed her name. Disappeared.

And she never looked back.

Until now.

Back in the Present

“I didn’t kill for justice,” she said softly, standing in the middle of her basement of horrors. “Not in the beginning. I killed because I wanted to. Because something in me cracked, and when it did… it felt right.”

Bucky stepped closer.

“And now?” he asked.

She met his eyes.

“Now I kill because they deserve it.”

-the end

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

you in my eyes [9] l Javier Peña

Summary:  you weren't friends and you certainly weren't planning anything more together

Warnings:  fluff, some self-doubt, long distance relationship, sexual innuendo, flooded floor, surprise pregnancy, Murphy shows up,

A/N: the last chapter. I was fighting with myself and my brain. I apologize for what you will read here.

your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

[previous chapter] [masterlist] [you in my eyes - masterlist]

"I'm sure you'll find yourself a new girlfriend soon, Peña."

"You're probably right, hermosa. She'll definitely be nicer to me, too."

You rolled your eyes, smiling as his hands found your hips and he pulled you closer to him greedily. Even though the airport was packed with people, you were stuck in your own little bubble. You were supposed to spend the last two weeks taking care of your own business before you flew back to the States. In the meantime, you and Javier were trying your best to make the most of every moment, to make every moment count.

“Call me when you get there,” he said, looking at you with pleading dark eyes. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” you replied. “And don’t get into trouble, okay?”

“You were the cause of all the trouble, I like the quiet life.”

Your smile made him want to taste your lips again. If only he could keep you here, but he knew it was beyond him. The office had assigned you to one of the branches, you had been assigned a small apartment - you had no other choice.

Murphy approached you silently and reluctantly patted his friend on the shoulder. "It's time," he said. "If he doesn't get in now, you'll have some explaining to do."

"Fuck off," Javier growled, but he knew perfectly well that Steve was right.

You gently stroked his cheek. Another kiss, a hug. He promised to call, that you would see each other soon, although you didn't know what that meant. When the plane took off into the sky, you felt like you had left a piece of your heart on the ground.

Clothes were hanging in the closet. Personal trinkets were spread out on the furniture. Although the sun was shining through the delicate curtains, you felt like you were locked in a dark box. You took a sip of cold coffee. It had been over three weeks since you returned to the country and you had the impression that with each passing day it was getting worse.

Sometimes you woke up with a strange feeling. Between sleep and reality, you had the impression that in a moment you would feel a familiar movement next to you, that a familiar touch on your skin would cause a warm shiver. However, the other side of the bed was empty and cold. Almost as much as you were.

"Hello, hermosa. How are you feeling?" His gentle voice soothed your nerves. Slouched in the armchair by the window, looking out at the city on the other side, you told him about another boring day at the office, about the coworkers who pissed you off, about how you broke a heel on the way to work and now you have to buy a new pair of shoes.

Javier didn't talk much about what was going on in Colombia. Sometimes he would mention Steve and Connie, "Connie asked me to say 'hi' to you", but what he really wanted to hear was you. He didn't say it because he was afraid that when the words came out of his mouth, it would hurt even more.

Your absence was felt every day, in every little thing he did. He always had the feeling that when he got back to the apartment, you would be there, but that never happened. The conversations you had and spent a lot of money on were your only hope for what you had.

"I have one more suitcase to unpack", you said, looking at the corner where you had put it.

"I told you a long time ago to do that". Javier laughed quietly. "Why do you keep putting it off?"

"I don't know..." you sighed. "Maybe the shirt still smells like you?"

God! He wanted so much to take you in his arms, to hug you, to kiss you.

“I love you, you know that?” he said.

“I know, Javier. I love you too.”

Three months later.

“I saw your last report. It was damn good.” Jason, one of your coworkers, leaned against the door frame, smiling.

“Thank you.” You replied. “Do you have anything for me?”

He plopped down in the chair across from his desk. His blue eyes watched you carefully. “Maybe we could go out for a drink tonight?”

You looked up from the papers you were looking through. Jason was a charming man, you knew that. He had asked you out for a drink or coffee for the hundredth time, patiently putting up with your refusals.

“You know…” you started, but Jason raised his hand.

“I understand, you’re taken.” He answered for you. “Although I think an intelligent and beautiful woman like you deserves the best treatment. I’ll keep trying my luck.” He winked at you. “Maybe someday I will.”

“Maybe.”

When he left your office, you leaned back and sighed. This week had dragged on for an incredibly long time. You were getting closer and closer to quitting your job and hiding under a blanket. It had also been a few days without a call from Javier. You had felt like something was wrong for a while now. He was hiding something from you, and your mind was giving you new ideas. You hated yourself for it.

“Javier? He left the office.” Steve’s voice echoed through your phone, and you closed your eyes, rubbing your temple with your hand. “Do you want me to tell him something?”

“No, thank you. Give Connie a kiss for me.”

You should have expected this. Long-distance relationships were never meant to last. And even though it hurt, you knew you should move on.

That damn suitcase. The last one. You stared at it for a few minutes, drinking two glasses of wine. After the third, you made a decision. With a soft clatter, you opened it. Everything inside looked like you had packed it yesterday. Your clothes, a few books, your shoes. Without looking, you grabbed the clothes and threw them in the washing machine.

Why did it hurt so much? It was just clothes. Just a suitcase. Regardless, you poured yourself another glass of wine, ready to end the chapter of Colombia.

A knock on the door almost made you jump. You weren't expecting anyone, so you suspected it might be one of your neighbors asking for a glass of sugar. However, when you turned the lock, when you opened the door a crack, the glass of wine fell to the floor with a bang.

"Hello, hermosa."

"Javier..." you whispered.

"Judging by the look on your face, my surprise was a success, am I right?"

You didn't answer. Your arms immediately wrapped around his neck. He dropped his suitcase to the ground so he could hug you. His arms found their place around your waist, burying his face in your hair, breathing in your scent. He had dreamed of this moment for so long and finally felt your warmth again.

A long moment passed when you finally pulled away from him, your eyes wet with tears. But you didn't even let him breathe. Your hands cupped his face and your lips collided in a kiss you had been waiting for so long.

Jesus! What a relief it was. Like a breath of fresh air.

"Easy, easy, baby," he murmured between kisses. "Let's go inside, shall we?"

You pulled him closer, not breaking the kiss. Your hands knew exactly what you needed. His jacket slipped off his shoulders, your fingers already fighting with his tie. Javier lightly pressed you against the wall, his lips pressing against your neck. The bulge in his pants was clearly noticeable.

"I didn't ask if you were hungry," you groaned as his hands slid under your shirt.

"I could eat you," he said between kisses, and you laughed quietly.

He didn't change. His eyes still looked at you like you were the most beautiful woman in the world, his hands easily memorizing paths on your body. This really was Javier. Your Javier.

"What's that sound?"

It was only now that you opened your eyes, hearing what had been coming from the bathroom for a while. A strange clattering noise that your washing machine must have been making, and which definitely wasn't there before.

“I turned on the wash,” you said. “You know, I still had the last suitcase... I had to have something in my pocket.”

“Fuck.” Javier hissed and before you could react, he ran to the bathroom.

He turned off the washing machine and opened the door a moment later. Foamy water spilled onto the tiles and he started pulling out your wet clothes.

“What are you doing? Are you crazy?” you ran after him to the bathroom, immediately stepping into a large puddle.

Javier’s pants were already wet, but he was looking for something in your clothes. “Don’t you ever check your pockets before washing?” he asked.

“Not this time. I wanted to get it over with. Javier!”

“This suitcase has been sitting untouched for almost four months. Why today?”

“I don’t know!”

He must have finally found what he was looking for, because his fingers tightened around the small box. He looked at you with obvious relief.

“You’re going to give me a heart attack one day, woman,” he panted. “And I definitely didn’t want to do it this way.”

You frowned. The water was already pouring out into the hallway. But you couldn’t tear your eyes away from Javier, who was kneeling in the middle of your wet laundry. Your gaze wandered to the small box he was holding in his hands. You froze.

“I’ve been planning this for a long time. I thought…” Javier sighed. “I thought you’d find it before I got there, but you stubbornly refused to open that suitcase. So I thought I’d surprise you. I’ve been hiding the fact that I’m going to the States for weeks.”

“I thought you already…”

Javier frowned. “I don’t want to know what you thought, but you were wrong. Honey, Colombia’s over. I’m staying in the States.”

You couldn't get a word out. You looked at Javier like he was crazy, like what was happening was a dream.

He opened the box and a delicate ring appeared before your eyes. “Please marry me. I know it’s crazy. I know I don’t deserve you, but I wouldn’t dream of anything else. Just give me a chance, please.”

There was silence. You looked at each other, both in slight shock and afraid to say anything. Finally Javier spoke again.

“Hermosa, please say something.”

A sound finally escaped your lips. “Yes. It’s crazy, but yes. I will marry you, Javier.” In an instant, he was on his feet. His arms were around you again, his lips finding yours. You couldn’t be happier.

Two hours later, still tangled in the sheets, you were both planning. Everything and nothing. Simple dreams, distant goals. Javer helped you finish your wine, and the bathroom floor was covered with towels to absorb as much water as possible. You felt like you had woken up after a very long and tiring sleep.

“My father has a farm, I told you about it. I want to go back there. Help him.” Javier said. “What do you think?”

“That’s a good idea. It’s definitely better than living here. I’m sick of my office.” He kissed your forehead and you smiled slightly. “Laredo sounds good.”

“And that will do us good. I can keep working. We will set up however you want. There is a big bedroom upstairs, you will like it.”

You rested your chin on his chest. “And your dad?”

“He will love you.” Javier answered without hesitation. “He will adore you, you will see.”

You snuggled up to him, letting your thoughts wander around that perfect vision of your life together. Everything sounded easy and beautiful coming from Javier. But you believed him.

A delicate ring sparkled on your hand, drawing your attention with every movement. Was all this really happening? Did Javier Peña really want to spend the rest of his life with you?

“I can hear your brain working.” he murmured as if he was reading your mind.

“I just…”

“You think.” he finished for you, “I know you so well, hermosa. I may not be able to guess your favorite flavor of ice cream yet, but I know when something is bothering you.” 

You sat up and rested your head against the headboard. "Don't you think this is all happening too fast?" Javier frowned. "I mean..." you continued. "We don't know what it's like to live together. Maybe I'll be bothered by throwing your socks on the floor, and you'll be pissed off by the way I make our bed. I mean... I've never been with anyone the way I am with you. I don't want to screw this up." 

Javier watched you closely. His brown eyes were full of concern and love. Finally, he spoke.

"I don't want to screw this up either, but I can't promise you that it'll always be wonderful. I'll try to make you happy, darling, but a relationship is a job for two, right?" you nodded. "We have to be understanding with each other and learn to compromise. But I'm sure I love you and I want all of this with you."

He took your hand and kissed it tenderly. 

"I want that too."

Six months later.

He stared at the two lines, unable to fully comprehend what was happening. It was like the ground had been pulled out from under his feet and he was left hanging, not knowing what to say. He shouldn't have seen that. Damn it!

He should have spent more time looking for his car keys than he did for yours. He didn't expect to find them in your bag.

"Javier? I thought you were already at the store and..."

You stopped in the doorway. Now you were both staring at the pregnancy test Peña was holding in his hand. Your eyes widened.

"Baby..." you whispered with difficulty. "No... I didn't want you to find out like this."

He blinked quickly. "How long have you known?" he managed with difficulty.

"I think two days. I started to suspect something and I wanted to make sure."

He took a deep breath and sat down on the couch.

"I'm sorry." You said quietly, walking over to him. Javier frowned. "I'm sorry, I know we haven't talked about it. I think it happened this weekend when we left town and... Shit. Javier, say something, baby."

Your words barely reached him, but he understood their meaning. He swallowed, feeling how dry his mouth was.

"Are you pregnant?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

You nodded. Your eyes filled with tears. He tilted his head and something changed in his gaze. Javier was looking at you with tenderness and admiration.

"This is the best thing that could have happened to us, hermosa."

Tears ran down your cheeks. "Really?"

"Of course!" he stood up and took you in his arms. "God! I can't believe it. I love you so fucking much."

He kissed you hard and lovingly, feeling the salty taste of tears on your lips. He had never felt so happy before. He had never felt so complete before.

“We’ll get through anything, you’ll see.” He whispered as you snuggled up to him, letting the tears, now of happiness, roll down your cheeks and onto his shirt. “Everything’s going to be okay. Jesus, our baby…”

“You’re going to be a father, Javier.”

And that was enough for him. You. Your baby. A simple life. He felt peace, and you finally felt like you were in the right place with the right guy. With the one man who saw you for who you really were and loved you in every way.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist: @qpiiee@missladym1981@axshadows@djappleblush@picketniffler@txmel@wowitsafemale@cheekychaos28@underneath-the-sky-again @misstokyo7love @jensensational71 @iamladyp @youkeeno

[icanbringyouinhot]

Take something bad and make it into something good - Chapter 1

Paring: retired!Javier Peña x F!reader

Summary: After leaving Colombia, Javier slowly but surely slides into a post-burnout depression that he tries to self-medicate with alcohol and self-imposed exile. However, his friend Steve Murphy and his wife Connie are not having it. Turns out, their endless nagging got him in a very interesting situation that turned out to be exactly what he needed. (Though, he’ll never admit they were right.)

Here’s the song that inspired me: Something Good by Paul Haig (spotify link)

Warnings: I don’t think there are that many, honestly. There’s no smut (boo-hoo, this is my first fanfic ever posted in here, I’m shy ok?..). No physical description of the reader, though I did describe her clothes because we love a well dressed diva. Vague mentions of alcohol abuse. Mentions of blood, wounds, guns, and depression because our boy is traumatized by what went down in Colombia. The reader has one small tattoo on her forearm. Let me know if I forgot anything, this is my first fanfic, idk what the hell I’m doing.

Word count: Roughly 2k.

A/N: Ok so there’s a few things, PLEASE READ: (1) As I said two times already, this is my first fanfic, I’m nervous and insecure about my writing, so please, please, please, give me any advice you have, criticism, words of encouragement, anything that could help me grow. I ain’t no pussy, you can tell me this is shit and I won’t start crying (as far as you know teehee). (2) The story the reader is talking about is my latest hyper fixation, however, i couldn’t find the source. There’s an article that says it belongs to the Chumash Tribe, but there are also other articles and reddit posts that say the otherwise. I have no idea were I know this story from, it just spawned into my smooth brain. For safety measures I chose not to associate it to any Native American tribe and let the reader’s granny take the blow, because I don’t want to offend anyone and because I am from Europe, so idk what the hell I’m talking about and it would be disrespectful to pretend that I do. (3) The art pieces and the artist that are featured in this fanfic are real (they are also present in the little collage that I’ve made, there in the middle, for visual reference)!!! But i don’t have a clue when he did his work and I was too lazy to google it so i have no idea if they existed by the time Javier Peña left Colombia (or if the art pieces ever touched the American land). Once again this fanfic was a last minute thing I didn’t put that much thought into it. (4) Once again i pulled this story from my bum bum and i don’t know if there’s a Modern Art Gallery in Houston, but I don’t care, I take my artistic liberties to invent one on the spot. (5) English is not my first language!!!!!! I tried really hard to make my sentences beautiful and clear, because sometimes in my head everything is an absolute mess. Once again, Idk what the hell I’m talking about. This fanfic is 100% the concept of raw dogging life and see where it gets you.

Okay!!!!! I think that was it. I think we are ready for our first flight together. I have to inform you that I don’t have any right, license or experience into flying the FanFic Aircraft. Too late, you can’t get off now, I shut the doors. Thank you for choosing our company to fly towards your next destination: JAVI LAND!!!! (play national anthem.)

(Also if someone knows how to add those colorful spacers on a post, I also forgot how it’s called, please send me a message and explain to me like I’m your grandma, thank you!!!!!)

Okay here we go. I’m nervous.

Chapter 2 >>

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Javier Peña had a lot of sins he had to try to pay for, but never in his life did he imagine this would be the price.

Four months. That’s how long’s been since he’d left Colombia for good, leaving behind all the bullshit he had to endure, the mistakes he made, the deaths he’d witnessed.

In all fairness, he thought that going back to the states would motivate him to rebuild his life and start anew. That was his honest to God intention. However, once back in the good ol’ Merica, he realized it no longer felt like home, not in his dad’s old house, not in his new apartment, in a different city, nowhere. He became almost a recluse, filled with rage, resentment and frustrations, never leaving his house much, except for runs to the closest liquor store or the bar down the street.

The first few weeks, Murphy gave him space to sort out his thoughts, drink himself into oblivion, chain-smoke through the night and avoid human interaction like the goddamn plague, only checking on every now and then but never pushing.

Then, they started showing up.

First it was just Murphy, with beer and bad jokes, watching football games, doing anything but talk about Colombia or feelings. Then, Connie started showing up too, with thinly vailed concern and always bringing something for him to eat, all while trying to pull words out of him with pliers. They even had their daughter have a try at him, convinced that no one could resist the innocence of a small, bright-eyed child, especially one that loved her ‘uncle Javi’ like he hung the moon just for her. Yes, Javier loved his niece and would do anything for her, but that was the one thing that he couldn’t do, mostly because he didn’t know how.

No matter how many times he tried to turn them down, they were relentless. They’d pestered, prodded, and outright bullied him into getting out of the house ­– something about fresh air, new experiences, maybe even fun, as if he had any patience for that word anymore. They started up with the occasional dinner invitation, then it was offers to take him out for drinks – somewhere nice instead of the dingy, dimly lit bar where Javi spent his weekends. He never wanted to go anywhere, but Murphy and Connie always insisted until he gave in just to shut them the hell up. Well, more Connie than Murphy, really – she was the one planning every intervention, though she’d been sweet enough not to say that word out loud.

And now… this.

This one – Oh, this one took the cake.

A fucking art gallery.

Connie got her grabby hands on some invitations from an old patient lady that actually owned the fancy Modern Art Gallery in Houston, and Murphy, as the good husband that he was, just went along with it.

But Javier Peña didn’t belong here. That much was obvious from the moment he stepped through the doors of the establishment, wearing a scowl and the same old leather jacked that had seen more blood and dust than it had high society.

The walls were lined with massive canvases – some monochrome, others smeared in chaotic swirls of color – but what stood out the most were the ones that had been slashed and punctured, riddled with holes like someone had taken a knife to them in a drunken rage.

Murphy, the bastard, was actually trying to appreciate it. He stood next to Connie, nodding along as she pointed to different pieces. Javi had no doubt Steve didn’t understand a damn thing either, but unlike Javier, he was at least pretending.

He took a long sip of his whiskey – at least the open bar made this bearable.

At one point during the night, Connie leaned in and, in a hushed, reverent tone, explained that the artist, Lucio Fontana, had created these pieces with great precision to “explore spatial concepts beyond the canvases”, emphasizing “the interplay of light, shadow and space.” He just rolled his eyes and moved further away from her in a corner, plotting his escape.

What a load of bullshit.

All he could see were stab wounds. Bullet holes. Scars carved into the fabric of the country he had spent too many years fighting in. If he looked long enough, he swore he could see blood seeping through, hear the gunshots echoing in his skull.

And maybe that said more about him than the art itself.

He exhaled, running a hand over his face. He needed another drink.

He turned to leave – and walked straight into someone.

“Shit, sorry.” He muttered taking a step back, but the woman in front of him didn’t seem bothered.

You were standing close to one of the mutilated canvases, your back straight, hands folded in front of you as you studied it. You wore a calf-length silk skirt that shimmered under the lights and a lacy top that showed just enough skin to be distracting. But what struck him the most was the way you were looking at the canvas in front of you – not with the pretentious admiration of the other guests but with quiet, genuine thoughtfulness.

You waved off his apology with a small smile before turning your gaze back to the painting – a deep navy-blue canvas punctured with what looked like a thousand tiny holes.

Javier should’ve walked away, but instead he looked at you looking at the painting, and the curiosity got the better of him.

“You actually like this shit?”

You smiled, slow and knowing, like you were expecting that reaction. “Maybe.”

Javier huffed incredulous, crossing his arms. “Really?”

You gestured to the navy punctured canvas, “It reminds me of an old story my grandmother used to tell me when I was little.”

Javier pulled his eyebrows together, puzzled. The only thing it reminded him of was the dark colored government van that got ambushed and was completely obliterated along with the agents inside. But he couldn’t say that, and before he could open up his mouth to say anything else, you already started telling your story.

“Before the humans appeared on the planet, the rocks, animals and plants lived in harmony. They were the people of the world. They lived in harmony and peace, appreciating and taking care of the nature and of one another. They woke up every morning greeting the Sun, and went to sleep waving goodbye to the Moon, thanking her for looking over them.”

Javi found himself listening despite himself, watching you as you talked, tilting you head in his direction, gaze lost, but a small smile creeping on your lips as you continued to narrate the story.

“As time passed, they started to forget. They didn’t greet the Sun anymore or show any appreciation, and the Moon was completely forgotten. They became jealous of each other, thinking others possessed more than them, greed taking over their hearts. They started to take more than they needed, either to consume or to sell away. They didn’t help each other, cooperation didn’t exist anymore. They separated more and more, arguing, hating, fighting, hurting each other.”

His eyes darted between you and the painting, his mind running a thousand miles per hour, but knew better than to try to interrupt you.

“The Creator had been watching and said ‘Enough’, throwing a blanket over the whole world. Now the world was in darkness, people frightened. Each of them tried individually to take off the blanket, but no one was able to reach that far. Desperate, they formed a council, to discuss what they should do. After endless meetings and failed attempts, a hummingbird came with a plan that demanded everyone to cooperate. The hummingbird got on top of the crow, the crow got on top of the owl, and the owl on the eagle. The idea was simple, the eagle was supposed to fly as high as he could, then when his energy ran out, the owl took over, then the crow, until finally the hummingbird got close enough to puncture the blanket with its beak. Light seeped through, and everyone got their hope back. They started working together until they punctured enough holes in the blanket for them to have light and warmth again. The animals that couldn’t fly helped from the ground, preparing water, food and shelter for everyone. The Creator was so pleased to see that the people were living again in harmony that he lifted off the blanket, and the people never took what they had for granted anymore.” You seemed to finish your story the moment your eyes were focused on again, this time shifting your gaze towards Javier. His face was an amalgamation of emotions – confusion, admiration, concentration. “Anyway, it’s said that after they lived again in harmony and peace for many, many years, the people started to forget again.” You added with a shrug, this time with a knowing look into your eyes.

Javier looked at the canvas again. He still saw violence – still saw the wounds, the tearing, the things he couldn’t erase from his mind. But for the first time, he also saw what you did. Something else. Hopeful.

“You got all that from a couple stab marks on a painting?

You turned to him fully, amusement flickering in your eyes. “Art is what you make of it.”

Javier tilted his head, watching you. “So, what do you make of that one?” he said pointing to a different canvas – one with a long, deep cut right in the middle of it, like a wound.

You studied it for a moment, pursing your lips, then said, “Loneliness.”

“Loneliness?”

“Yes, the loneliness we all feel sometimes, almost like a wound right in the middle.” You said tracing absentmindedly a finger over your chest. “Separation. The way we carve ourselves apart from others, whether by choice or by force.”

Javier’s smirk faded slightly. He wasn’t used to conversations like this. Usually, when he talked to women, it was all surface-level-flirting, small talk, nothing deeper than what was necessary. But this? This was different.

If your words affected him, he didn’t let it show, but truth be told, a bitch slap would’ve stung him less than this.

He scoffed giving a skeptical look, “Alright smartass, and that one?” he pointed to another, where multiple slashes ran parallel, like scars.

After another pause for consideration, you said, “Community. We crave connection, we need it. No one survives alone. Even if we are wounded, we heal better when we are surrounded by others. Pain shared is pain halved.”

He almost wanted to ask if you knew Steve and Connie and if they put you up to this, but something in your expression made him reconsider, because when you spoke, when you came up with these awful, soul barring interpretations, you seemed lost in thoughts for a second.

“Where do you come up with this stuff?”

You grinned, “Pulled it out of my ass, mostly.”

He barked out a laugh, “Figures.”

You leaned in slightly, voice conspiratorial, “Truth is, I think this whole thing is bullshit.”

Now that was something he could get behind. “Then how the hell does a smart woman like you end up stuck at an art gallery she doesn’t even like?”

“My grandmother owns the gallery.”

Javier blinked. “Shit.”

You smiled slyly, “Yeah, so don’t tell her I said that.”

“No promises.” He said, “I’m Javier, by the way.” he added, and you shook his hand telling him your own name.

After a beat, you cleared the air, “The only one I’ve actually meant was the first one. The story kind of stuck with me.” You said as you rotated your forearm, letting him see the tiny hummingbird tattoo you had, so small, fragile and beautiful. He wanted to kiss it, honestly,

“So, you really believe in that?” he asked with his characteristic smile plastered on his face.

You glanced at him. ‘Believe in what? That the sky is a blanket and the stars are holes?” you asked amused.

Javier shrugged, “I mean, the whole idea. That there’s a way out, that people could actually find a way to fix their world at some point.” He explained his question, because it sure like hell never felt like that when he tried to lift the proverbial blanket that the cartels threw over Colombia.

You smiled, but there was something wistful in it. “I think stories like that exist because people need them to. To make sense of things, to find hope. The world’s a little less lonely when you see that there are others with the same way of thinking. Maybe if more people knew the story and they’d believe in it, things would change too.”

Javi studied you. You weren’t like the rest of the people here – weren’t fawning over the art just to seem cultured, weren’t talking in circles to sound impressive. You were just… real.

And that was a dangerous thing for him to be around.

You two stood there, quiet for a moment, the hum of conversation and clinking glasses filling the space between you. It should have been awkward, but it wasn’t.

Javi wasn’t sure when was the last time he’d met someone who actually entertained him, let alone someone who made him forget the shitstorm in his head. You had that way of carrying yourself – calm, amused, like the world was something to be studied but never taken too seriously.

“So, what about you?” you said after a moment, “If you hate this so much, why are you here?”

Javier sighed, glancing across the room where Steve was balancing a glass of wine while his wife animatedly discussed another piece. “Some friends dragged me.” He muttered.

You nodded in consideration, then looked around for your own dear grandmother. She was way over her head discussing with a circle of quests just like she did the whole night. Aside from knowing that you came, she didn’t get the chance to check in on you or chat at any point during the event, and you took a wild guess that it wouldn’t be happening anytime soon either.

You grinned, tilting your head slightly. “Tell you what – I’ll make you a deal.”

Javier arched a brow. “Yeah?”

You leaned in, lowering your voice. “There’s a bar two blocks from here. No abstract art, no bullshit. Just whiskey and decent company. Maybe some food too. You in?”

Javier hadn’t expected the night to be anything other than a painful endurance test, something he did mostly for his friends than for himself. He sure hadn’t expected to meet someone like you. And for the first time in a long time, he thought – why the hell not?

His lips curved into a genuine smile – he couldn’t remember when was the last time he smiled as much as he did ever since he started talking to you.

“Hell yeah, lead the way.”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

[andy-15-07]

Hi! Could you please do either a Pedro Pascal or Javier Peña x Reader where the reader is plus sized and doesn't give him the time of day because she doesn't think he would ever be attracted to her? A feisty reader is appreciated! Thank you so much! Smut is whatever the author feels is right! Thank you thank you thank you!

Agent of My Heart

PAIRING:Javier Pena x reader

WORD COUNT: 1167 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist | Pedro Pascal Masterlist II

Javier Peña crouched behind the overturned crate in the dim warehouse, sweat slicking his brow as he loaded another round into his service weapon. Bullets ricocheted off concrete walls in the distance, mixing with shouts in Spanish and the thud of heavy boots. Across the room, his partner Steve Murphy returned fire, cursing under his breath.

“Peña!” Steve barked, ducking behind a stack of pallets. “We’re pinched tight! Where’s the exit?”

Peña’s gaze flicked to the grated window high above. “Only way out is through the back corridor!” He fired a burst, then motioned. “Cover me!”

Steve leaned out, returning fire,and then a voice sparked Peña’s attention.

“Hey, macho, watch the exit!” it called, sharp and amused.

Peña’s head whipped toward the voice. You,Y/N,stood in the center of the chaos: smartly dressed in dark cargo pants and a fitted tee that showed off curves you shrugged at, and a flak vest that left no doubt you knew what you were doing. You raised your pistol with easy confidence and let two shots fly at the nearest gunman, who collapsed. Then you pivoted on your heel, heels clicking on the concrete, and disappeared down a side corridor.

Peña stared. “Did she just,?”

Steve cut him off. “She did. Let’s move!”

They followed you into the corridor. You rounded the corner, dropping into a quick crouch and firing again. Peña and Steve fell in behind you, a surprising trio as you bounced from cover to cover.

Once you reached the emergency exit, you yanked it open. Fresh air slapped your face. You vaulted outside, Peña and Steve close behind. Bullets ripped through the wooden door moments later.

You slid down the wall, panting. “That went… well.”

Steve grinned. “I owe you a beer.”

You gave him a cool once-over. “I work solo, agents. I don’t do beers with sidekicks.”

Peña stepped forward, chest heaving. “We’re not sidekicks, and I’m not an agent.”

You laughed, eyes bright. “Peña. Javier Peña, right? DEA?” You tucked a curl behind your ear. “I’ve heard about you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You have?”

You shrugged. “I follow the headlines. Wanted to see if the legends were true.” You cocked your pistol at his knee, playful. “And you are.”

He swallowed. “You’re pretty… accurate with that gun.”

Your grin turned wicked. “Lucky shot.”

They exchanged glances. Steve rolled his eyes and wandered off toward the street. Peña remained, hands in his pockets.

“Look,” he began, voice lower, “I,thank you. That was a hell of a extraction.”

You pushed off the wall, dusting gravel from your pants. “Don’t mention it. I wasn’t about to let them drag you into a shipping container.”

Peña stepped closer, chest brushing yours. “You think I would ever… could ever be attracted to someone like you?” He flicked a glance at your hips, your smile.

You stiffened, arms folding. “Someone like me?”

He sighed. “Yes,like you. Strong, smart… fearless.” He paused. “You’re not even looking at me.”

You looked away, jaw set. “I’m plus size. I’m not exactly the leading lady type.”

Peña’s hand reached out, brushing your arm. “I’ve seen lead actors in Hollywood,I’ve never seen anyone move like you do. You’re commanding.”

You swallowed, gaze flickering. “You say that to all your… contacts?”

He shook his head. “No. Only the ones who can shoot first and ask questions later,and still smile.”

Your heart thudded. You turned back, eyes narrowing. “You’re charming.”

“Not trying to be.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I,look, Y/N. I’d like to see you again. Over coffee. Or something.”

You bit your lip. “I don’t do coffee with DEA agents.”

He lifted one shoulder. “Then what?”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “I’m busy. I have a network to manage.”

He nodded, respect in his eyes. “Understood.”

You steeled yourself to walk away,then paused as Peña gently took your hand. “But, if you ever want company,” he said quietly, “I’d be honored.”

You stared at your joined hands, warmth spreading. Whatever you felt,business, adrenaline, something more,you nodded. “Alright. Maybe coffee.”

He smiled, genuine. “It’s a date.”

A week later, Peña stood outside a small café in Chapinero, sky gray with the promise of rain. He checked his watch. 3:10. You were late,but not surprising.

The bell over the door jingled. You entered in a trench coat and boots, hair in a high ponytail. Peña stood, heart stuttering.

“Sorry,” you panted, shaking water from your coat. “Traffic. This city…” You exhaled. “Coffee’s on me.”

He waved you to the table. “You saved my life. I insist.”

You sat, folding your arms. “Just answer one question,why me?”

He took your hand across the table. “Because in a world full of whispers and shadows, you’re the human spark.”

You blinked. “Don’t quote me that next time.”

He laughed, warm and deep. “No promises.”

You studied him, feeling your walls crack. “You’re… different from what I’d expect.”

He smiled softly. “I guess I’m not your usual type.”

You shrugged. “My usual type is nonexistent.”

He squeezed your hand. “Then we’ll write a new type.”

Your heart fluttered. Conversation flowed,laughter, shared stories, a spark neither wanted to deny. When you stepped out into the drizzle, Peña offered his umbrella.

You slid under it with him. “Thank you.”

He tipped the umbrella. “Always.”

In the weeks that followed, you fell into a rhythm: late-night stakeouts (you preferred intelligence; he preferred field work), off-duty dinners in barrio eateries, and,eventually,drinks at the bar you’d originally spotted each other in. Each time, you challenged him,feisty comebacks and fearless banter,while he met you,steady, admiring.

One night, after a particularly grueling raid, he found you on the rooftop of the safe house, staring at the city lights.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked.

You nodded, then sighed. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He wrapped his arms around you, protectively. “I’m glad you’re here.”

You leaned into his chest, his heartbeat a balm. “I was stupid,” you whispered. “Thinking no one like me could ever…”

He lifted your chin, eyes unwavering. “You’re everything I didn’t know I needed.”

You closed your eyes against the rush of emotion. “And you… what do you see in someone like me?”

He brushed his thumb across your cheek. “Exactly what I needed to see.”

You tilted your head, breath caught. “That sounds like a pickup line.”

He smiled. “The best kind. Honest.”

Your lips curved. You rose on tiptoe and kissed him,light and electric. He responded, arms tightening around your waist.

When you broke apart, he rested his forehead against yours. “Stay with me.”

You laughed softly. “Until the next raid?”

He chuckled. “Until forever.”

Back in L.A., Peña found himself staring at your last text: Safe? He typed back: Safe. Thinking of you. Then stared at the second line, deleting and rewriting it.

Finally: Couldn’t do this without you.

He hit send. A moment later, your reply: I’ll always have your six.

He smiled, heart full. And across two cities, two hearts matched rhythms,plus sized, feisty, fearless,writing their own legend.

[wannab-urs]

Title: Something Sweet

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: You’re new to the team in Colombia and all alone on your birthday. Your partner, Javier Peña, decides to do something sweet for you. 

Tags: Set vaguely during season 1 before Javi gets extra angsty, canon compliant-ish, reader feeling lonely, sassy!reader, flirty!javi, alcohol (wine), brief mention of a gun bc I feel like a DEA agent wouldn’t just answer the door all willy nilly, kissing, javi asking for consent, but y’all did share a bottle of wine, kissing, fingering f receiving, marking, unprotected PinV, cuddling. I always write angsty Javi, but this is FLUFF, so sorry if it’s OOC, I’m slightly out of my element here. 

WC: 2107

A/N: This fic is a birthday gift for @psychedelic-ink. Sil, you’re a wonderful friend and you do so much for the Pedro Pascal Fandom community on top of being an incredible writer. So, with some help from @pedrorascal with the beautiful gifs, I schemed up a little fic for you. I hope you love it! Happy Birthday and Happy Holidays AHHHH. 

Moving to a new country two weeks before your birthday, which also happens to be Christmas Eve, is not ideal. You moved to Colombia from Miami after a promotion, earning a spot on the elite team working to catch Pablo Escobar. 

The last two weeks have been a whirlwind, trying to catch up on all the facts of the case. You have to learn every sicario by sight and all of their names, aliases, and frequent hang outs. You have to learn about everything Escobar has done in Colombia, all the cartels and how they connect, it’s all extremely exhausting and time consuming. 

Which is why you have no friends yet, unless you count your new partners Javier Peña and Steve Murphy. Which you don’t. You barely know them, and from what you’ve seen so far, Peña is an asshole. Steve might be okay, but you just haven’t had time to get to know him yet. 

You take off your windbreaker and hang it on the back of your chair. It’s kind of ridiculous that you have to work on Christmas Eve, but there’s no rest for the wicked and therefore no rest for you either. You sit down and open the first file on your desk, immediately getting down to business without so much as a greeting for your partners. 

A couple hours into the work day, a shadow darkens your desk. “What do you want, Peña?” 

“God damn, hermosa. Touchy today? I brought you a coffee.” Peña sets the cup of lukewarm black slop on your desk and leans further into your space, peeking at the files you’re reading. 

“Yes, actually. Did you need something or did you just come over here to bother me?” 

“I just came over here to compliment your nails, actually,” he takes your hand in his, inspecting your nails, and then looks into your eyes. “I like the color. Suits you.” 

You feel heat rise to your cheeks. Peña is cute. Gorgeous, really, but you don’t make a habit of flirting with your coworkers. “Thanks… They were my birthday gift to myself.” You tug your hand away from him and place it in your lap. 

“It’s your birthday?” He asks, still leaning much too far into your personal space. You nod and look back down at the file. 

“I have to get back to work now,” you almost whisper to him, all your bitter snark from earlier replaced by a sense of melancholy. There’s not a soul in this entire country who knows it’s your birthday today. Aside from Javier, now, you guess. Javier lingers for another moment before pushing off your desk and leaving you to your work. 

You’re starting to pack up for the day when Peña comes up to your desk again, sitting on the corner. 

 “So what are your plans tonight?” he asks. 

“Huh?” You don’t have any plans. A phone call from your friend in Miami and a bottle of Chilean wine maybe. 

“Your plans? For your birthday?” 

“Oh. I don’t have any. Don’t really know anyone yet so…” you trail off. You feel kind of pathetic, even though you know it’s completely reasonable to not have a group of friends yet. 

“Me and Murphy could take you out?” 

“Oh um–”

“Actually, Jav,”  Steve calls out from his desk. “Me and Connie have plans tonight. Christmas Eve and all,” he gives you an apologetic look. 

“It’s fine really. I’m gonna have a nice relaxing night in. Thanks though.” You put on the best smile you can and head for the door. 

You hang up the phone after your short call with your friend. It’s expensive to call long distance, but she stayed on with you as long as she could. She told you all about her new boyfriend and that everyone had wished you a Happy Birthday and Happy Holidays. You’re grateful she didn’t ask about your job or your love life. 

As you pop the cork on a bottle of wine, there’s a knock on your door. You stare at the door questioningly, as if it will tell you who’s there. Who on earth could be knocking at your door at 8pm on Christmas Eve? 

You grab your gun and sneak over to the door, peeking through the peephole. Broad shoulders and a dark head of hair are all you can make out through the tiny lens. Javier? You set your gun on the side table and pull open the door. 

“Peña? What are you doing here?” 

He turns around and holds his hands out to you. “Brought you something.” He’s holding a birthday cake, clearly store bought, decorated with a generic “Feliz cumpleaños” scrawled on top. A bright smile lights up your face. 

“Oh Javi, you didn’t have to!” 

“I wanted to. You gonna invite me in for some cake?” He raises his eyebrows at you. 

“Oh! Yeah sure. Come in!” You step to the side to let him through and close and lock the door behind him. “Sorry about the mess. I’m not fully unpacked yet.” 

“I’ve been here for 7 years and I’m not fully unpacked. It’s fine.” Javi reassures you. He sets the cake down on your kitchen counter and starts rifling around for plates and silverware. 

“I can do that,” you try to move him out of the way, but he’s having none of it. 

“No, it’s your birthday. Let me. You pour yourself a glass of wine and go sit on the couch.” 

“Fine… thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

You grab a couple glasses and the bottle of wine and carry it to the living room with you. You’re kind of shocked he’s here. He’s always flirty in the office, but he’s like that with everyone. He’s not what you’d call friendly otherwise. Maybe he just feels bad for you. 

Javier drops down onto the couch beside you holding two plates with hefty slices of chocolate cake. He hands you one of the plates and a fork. “Happy birthday. I’m not going to make you do the whole candle thing.”

“Thank you, Javier. This is really, really nice.” You feel like you might cry. It’s just cake, but you felt so alone, and it’s like he really saw you. He saw through whatever exterior shell you were wearing and decided to try to make your day better. 

“Just Javi is fine. And it’s not a big deal, really. You deserve something sweet on your birthday,” he says looking down at the cake in his hands.

“It is to me. A big deal, I mean,” you say softly before taking a bite of the cake. It’s nothing special, just a plain chocolate cake, but it means so much to you. 

You and Javier, Javi, chat about where you’re from and how you came to work for the DEA. You tell him about living in Miami, about the promotion that brought you here. You finish the bottle of wine and a couple more pieces of cake and the conversation doesn’t stop for a long time.

Late in the evening, you finish a story about your 6th birthday, one your aunt always told to the whole family every single year at your birthday dinner. He’s sitting close to you, his thigh pressed against yours despite there being plenty of room on the couch to sit without touching. It makes your heart flutter a little. 

You don’t know if it’s the wine or what, but the little crush you have on him is getting pretty hard to ignore. Javi smirks at you, reaches up, and brushes his thumb over the corner of your lip. 

“Got a little icing there, cariño,” he says, his voice lower and huskier than it has been all night. He brings the icing smeared thumb to his mouth and sucks it between his lips. Your eyes track the movement, pupils blowing wide. He really is pretty. 

You feel yourself lean in toward him, almost unconsciously chasing that thumb to his mouth. He brings his hand up to your cheek and searches your eyes for a moment. He must see what he was looking for because he pulls you closer and presses his lips to yours. 

His lips are soft, warm, gentle on yours. You grab his face in your hands, not wanting him to pull away yet. He slips his tongue along the seam of your lips and you part them, letting him in. You’re not sure who makes the move, but slowly, your back is lowered to the couch, Javi a comfortable weight on top of you. Your hands explore his broad shoulders, the muscles of his back, his trim waist, as he plunders your mouth with his tongue. 

“Can I touch you?” He rasps against your lips. 

“You already are,” you giggle. “Sorry. Yes, Javi.” 

He huffs a laugh into your mouth and slips a hand into your lounge pants, fingers finding your dripping seam. “Wet for me already, hermosa?” 

Your cheeks heat up in slight embarrassment, but you nod. You’re soaked just from kissing him. By the feel of him against your thigh, he’s not better off. He pushes two fingers inside you and presses his lips back to yours. You gasp into his mouth, hands fisting in the back of his shirt. 

His fingers immediately find the spongy spot deep in your core. He curls them, dragging the pads of his fingers along your g-spot with every pump of them inside you. You cling tightly to him, burying your face in his shoulder. 

“Come for me, baby.” 

Your body responds to his command instantly, the tension in your belly releasing into waves of pleasure. Your cunt flutters around his fingers and you whine into his neck as he works you through it. You collapse back onto the couch, and he wastes no time dragging your pants off you. 

You hear the clink of his belt opening, the sound of it hitting the floor. You sit up on your elbows to watch him as he strips off the rest of his clothes. You bite your lip, drinking in the sight of the gorgeous man before you. 

He takes your hands in his and pulls you to your feet before pulling your tank top off you. “Shit, hermosa,” he whispers almost reverently as he takes one of your tits in his large hand, rolling the nipple between two fingers. “Gorgeous.” 

 He kisses you again, wrapping his strong arms around your body and pushing his chest flush with yours. “Bedroom, cariño?” 

You walk him back to your room, barely separating your lips from his for the entire journey. You fall back on your bed and he follows, settling between your legs. His lips drag down your jaw line to your neck as he lines himself up with your entrance. Javi sucks a mark just below your collarbone as he slowly thrusts inside you. 

You wrap your legs around his hips and pull him deeper into you, whining at the stretch. “Fuck, Javi.” 

“Working on it, cariño,” he teases as he bottoms out inside you. He pushes himself up on his elbows and stares into your eyes as he pulls out and thrusts back in smoothly. Your mouth falls open, a little huff spilling out as he bottoms out again. He feels so fucking good inside you. 

Javi sets a steady pace, thrusting into you hard and slow, eyes never leaving yours. When your eyes flutter shut and your back starts to arch in pleasure, he slips his arm under your back, pulling your hips higher on his thighs. The new angle is everything. You gasp out a moan every time his cock punches deep inside you.

Javi is everything in this moment. Your world narrowed to the feeling of his cock pounding into you at that same maddeningly slow, hard rhythm. You feel yourself tightening around him, feel a coil winding in your belly tighter and tighter. 

Javi’s lips find yours again with a kiss that’s more a clash of teeth and tongues than anything as you come hard on his cock. Javi lets out a low groan into your mouth at the way you squeeze him. He thrusts into you a few more times, fucking you through your high, before he quickly pulls out and spills all over your belly. 

He rests his forehead on yours for a moment, catching his breath. He kisses you deeply one more time before falling to the bed beside you. Javi pulls you into his arms, not paying any mind to the mess he made on your stomach. He holds you close, kissing the top of your head. 

“Happy Birthday, cariño.”

[marvelskies1969]

Infinity

Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader / Loki x Fem!Reader

Premise: Y/N Rogers was sent away as a child, her powers deemed dangerous. After years of brief summers with Steve and Bucky, she returns for good when their mother dies—just as war begins.

As her abilities awaken, she draws the attention of Loki, the trickster god, and faces growing fear from those around her. Caught between destiny, war, and forbidden ties, Y/N must decide who she truly is—and who she’s willing to fight for.

Warnings/content: slight angst, brief mention of death/dying, jealousy, fluff, swearing, unstable parental relationships, follows the plot of the MCU timeline, with small changes.

[Masterlist]

[Part 1]

(Chapter 3)

Love and War

Brooklyn in the summer smelled like sweat, beer, and ambition.

The war had wrapped itself around the city, tight and unrelenting. Posters lined the streets, urging young men to enlist, to fight, to be heroes. Some did it because they believed in the cause. Others because they had no other options. Bucky Barnes had signed up before anyone even had to ask.

Y/N still wasn’t sure how she felt about that.

She adjusted the collar of her dress as she pushed her way through the crowded bar, the air thick with laughter and cigarette smoke. This place had become their routine—Friday nights at Murphy’s, a little bubble of normalcy in a world teetering on the edge. It was where they drowned out the weight of responsibility, where Steve stopped thinking about all the rejection letters the army kept shoving in his face, and where Y/N could forget the exhaustion of her nurse training, the never-ending parade of videos of wounded soldiers who reminded her exactly what war did to men like Bucky.

Speaking of which.

“Barnes.” Y/N slid into the booth opposite him, her tone dry, her expression unimpressed.

Bucky barely looked up from the blonde curled into his side. “Sweetheart.”

Y/N forced a smile, all sharp edges. “Oh, is that still my name? I figured you might’ve forgotten it with all the others you’ve been throwing around.”

Bucky smirked, slow and lazy, but she caught the flicker of something beneath it—something he didn’t want her to see. Something he was trying to bury. “Jealous, are we?”

“Oh, desperately,” she deadpanned, stealing his drink and taking a sip before he could protest.

Steve slid into the seat beside her, looking exhausted but amused. “Play nice, you two.”

Y/N exhaled sharply, leaning back. Steve had enough on his plate without dealing with their usual back-and-forth. His latest failed attempt to enlist was written all over his face, the frustration lingering in the tight line of his jaw.

“How’d it go?” she asked gently.

Steve sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Same as always.”

Bucky huffed, shaking his head. “It’s a damn joke, pal. They’re sending boys younger than you overseas, and they won’t even let you try.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop,” Steve muttered.

Y/N frowned, but she knew better than to argue. Instead, she shot Bucky a look. “And what about you? Any word on where you’re getting stationed?”

Bucky shrugged, but there was tension in the set of his shoulders. “Not yet.”

The blonde beside him—Mary? Maggie? Something like that—traced a finger along his arm. “Maybe you won’t even have to go,” she cooed.

Y/N snorted, crossing her arms. “Right, because the army is known for changing their minds when a pretty girl asks nicely.”

The blonde pouted, but Bucky just chuckled. “You always this mean, doll?”

“Only to people who deserve it,” Y/N shot back.

Bucky’s smirk faltered for just a second, and for a brief, fleeting moment, there was something there—something real, something raw. But then, just as quickly, it was gone.

He turned back to the blonde, draping an arm around her shoulder, making a show of leaning in close. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he murmured, just loud enough for Y/N to hear. “Some girls just don’t know how to have fun.”

Y/N’s stomach twisted, but she refused to let it show.

She plastered on a smirk, picking up his abandoned drink once more. “Have all the fun you want, Barnes. Just try not to trip over your own ego on the way out.”

Bucky grinned, but this time, it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Steve sighed, rubbing his temples. “I swear, one day, you two are gonna kill each other.”

Y/N lifted her stolen drink. “Cheers to that.”

Bucky let out a short laugh, but there was no humor behind it. He let his fingers drum against the table, glancing at Y/N before looking away just as quickly. “Yeah,” he muttered under his breath, voice so low only she could hear. “That’d probably be easier.”

Y/N froze, but before she could ask what he meant, he turned back to the blonde, flashing that same charming grin. It was a performance. She knew that now.

And it hurt anyway.

[writing-my-time]

Good Morning

Pairing: Steve Murphy X F!Reader Word Count: 1.5 Warnings: 18+, no plot, consensual somnophilia unprotected sex, light creampie mention. Author’s note: Started writing this about 4 months ago. Stuff happened. Came out the closet (again). Thought I should get around to writing again.

“Well, look at you.”

It’s not a sight he expected. To come home well past midnight to see you like this was a treat, to say the least. You, on your back; naked and dozing, warmed by nothing other than the blazing Colombian heat. At some point in your sleep, you’d kicked off the blanket, exposing yourself to the arid air, and subsequently him in the process. He wants to let out a low whistle, or give your ass a gentle love tap, but he can’t. That’d wake you up, and while a sleepy kiss to welcome him home sounds nice, Steve has other plans. Tonight is the perfect time to do something he’s always wanted to try. Months ago you’d spoken about it. You’d even woken him up a few times with some of the best head of his life, but he had yet to return the favor.

Steve pulls off his tie, discarding it to the floor where the rest of his clothes quickly end up following. For once, he doesn’t bother to put them in the hamper. Not when you’re laid out this bare and beautiful. He’s careful when his knees first hit the mattress, crawling up at a slow pace. For a moment, he simply gazes at your sleeping form, smiling at the way your face twitches in your sleep. What are you dreaming about, he wonders. Your home? Your work? Him? Christ, does he hope it’s him. He cards a hand through his short hair, sweat now beginning to bead at the roots. Heat or not, he wants you. His palms grip the undersides of your thighs gently, ever so slightly spreading you open so he can nestle between them. As soon as he leans down, his eyes close, as if needs to shut out every other sense for the moment when his lips meet the apex of your thighs. 

“Jesus, sugar.” He whispers against you. “You’re so beautiful.”

Your flavor burns onto his tongue as soon as he gives the first kitten lick. Dainty and sweet, just to test the waters. A satisfied hum comes from deep within his throat. A smug grin pulls onto his face, only growing as he hears you quietly whine in your sleep. With his big hands still on the fleshy meat of your thighs, Steve continues. At first he keeps up with the delicate licks. Each draw of his tongue only barely nudges at your clit. You stir, he stops. He’s not quite ready for you to wake up yet, especially not when you’re so pliable in his hands. It’s dizzying, the way your brows twitch, even in your sleepy state. Tiny mumbles escape you, each getting more needy than the last. Every sound and every movement urges him on. Steve groans as he spreads your needy lips just a little further apart, letting him lap at your core with flat stripes. He’s eager now, becoming bolder and bolder with every stroke of his tongue.  

He kisses down your thighs as he pulls away. Steve sits back on his haunches. His face glistens, your juices dripping off his mustache. A sweaty palm drags over his even sweatier brow. It’s only then does he notice the way his cock is standing to full attention, weeping at the tip and bobbing in time with his heartbeat. How you manage to do this with nothing in return is beyond him. Not with how his cock begs, bobbing in time with his rapid heartbeat. He drags his rough tongue over the chapped surface of his lips, biting back the urge to rush. With one hand, Steve grasps himself. One, two, three tugs and he's oozing gooey slick onto himself. A hoarse grunt escapes him, filled with need. Salvation won’t come with his hand.

“Gotta take you now, baby."

Not a request, but not an order, either. Steve leans over, placing one steady hand beside your head, the other guiding himself to you. His aching tip nudges at your slit, parting the spit-ridden folds with ease. He swallows, brow twitching. Warm and wet and perfect. He sinks in. It’s a slow push to the hilt. Almost agony as your awaiting walls flutter around him. Your face twitches, lips parted from soft snores, now broken as his invasion continues. Hips against hips. Body against body. Steve lingers against you, still buried deep. You squeeze him tight, even in this state. Christ he could stay here forever. It’s why easing back takes just as long to do. His eyes are transfixed on the space between you, watching with perverted ecstasy as the same walls that swallowed him are now barely kissing his tip. 

“Jesus.” He whispers, dropping his head as he catches your wetness glistening off his shaft.

Steve stays still for a few more seconds. Slow, he tells himself. Delicate. Heat and passion was his style. Not necessarily rough, but definitely not gentle. But he can’t be like that. Not now. He wants to teeter the line a little longer, wanting to see how far he can take you without you waking. A breath, then he pushes back inside. Each slow, languid roll of his hips has Steve dizzied. Pure ecstacy courses through him as he feels you flutter around his thickness. He can tell you're close to waking, that familiar crease between your knitted brows tells him all he needs to know. Leaning down, Steve presses a chaste kiss to your neck. It earns a sweet hum as you shift into his weight.

“Well hello.” You mumble, stretching out your arms as a wry smile pulls at your lips. “Having fun?”

“A lot, yeah.” A raspy hum, his mouth still trailing up the soft column of your neck. The words aren’t poetic, but they’re earnest, and hardly hold a candle to the extent of his desire.

He furthers his proof by rolling his hips, and your legs instinctually wrap around him. There’s a raspy quality to your whines, evidence of the sleep that had possessed you only moments prior. Steve loves it. He grins to himself as your lithe body curves so nicely into his. You match his lazy movements as the groggy fog lifts. A soft moan echoes out in the dimly lit room. Your breaths intertwine as your foreheads meet. Sweat and spit combine, morning breath on your tongue, cigarettes on his. Steve doesn’t mind; never has, never will. His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he holds on so desperately.

You aren’t much further behind. All the work of his rough tongue has your clit throbbing. A pulse that’s borderline morse-code. Both your hands sling around his neck, while both of his twist in the pillows. You’re both caged into each other’s embrace. Panting, moaning, needing. He kisses up your throat, stubble grazing on your soft skin. Teeth find your earlobe. Steve exhales.

“Touch yourself for me, babe.” He urges, voice almost breaking under his own impending release. “Not gonna last.”

You obey, hastily bringing your hand between your sweat-laden bodies. Soft curls meet softer fingertips as you glide between your folds. A gasp escapes you at your own touch, harsh swirls on your stiff bud. Steve’s lazy thrusts build with haste, eliciting a sweet slapping of skin that echoes around the room. Wet shlicks fill your ears, your own arousal exposed every time he slams home. The other hand digs into his back. He grunts, you whine. Burning hot need pools in your stomach, the familiar knot threatening to snap. As your gummy walls clamp down tight, Steve has to hold himself back. Not yet. Not until you’re milking him dry. His lips press into the crook of your neck, and he swirls his tongue along your jaw.

“Come on, baby.” He rasps, desperation bleeding through every rough pant. “Need you to come.

Again, and again, and again, you rub faster, picking up speed until pure bliss fuzzies your vision. You arch your back, and Steve grins against your collarbone. Though, it’s short lived pride. His cock twitches on the next thrust, suffocated by your squeezing heat.

“Where do you want me to-”

“In me. In me, in me, in me-”

Steve cuts off your pleading with a rough kiss. A deep, chesty moan escapes from deep in his throat. All the while, his tip weeps inside of you, unrestrained in his eagerness. Hot white ropes spill forward, painting you from within as his thrusting gives out. His hips slam against your thighs in one final effort to chase his high. You shudder once he pulls out. Slick release pooling between your thighs and onto the sheets, sinking in the fabric until a wet patch forms. Steve pants harshly, dragging his lips from your own, all the way down to your sternum.

“Good morning.” He slurs, resting his head on your chest with a lazy smile.

“Morning, babe.” You reply, kissing his hairline with a small hum.

[crowandmousewritingco]

It Began As a Joke

Paring: Javier Peña x gn!reader x Steve Murphy

Words: 1.4k

Rating: P (for porn)

Author: Mod Crow

Summary: It started as a joke, but it's not a joke anymore.

Warnings: Mentions of breeding, face fucking (There are others. 18+ MDNI)

It was originally just a thing between Steve and you. After Connie left to go back to Miami with their daughter, Steve fell into a dark place. The first time the two of you fucked it  was fueled by emotions and alcohol. The second time happened right before Connie had come back. That was also the first time you met Connie, and to say that the meeting went well would be a bold faced lie. You had been sitting on what used to be their couch, wearing one of his old college shirts wrapped in a blanket you had brought with you the last time you stayed at his place.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hearing the door knob jiggle, you assume it’s Steve finally back from the office and the store. Getting up off the couch, you wrap your blanket around your shoulders as you make your way to the door. You make quick work of the locks excited to see him again.  Pulling open the door, you smile.

“It took you lo-” With the door open, you lock eyes with the women before you. You had seen her in pictures that were sparse throughout the place. “Oh you must be Connie.” You chuckled nervously, you knew who she was, and you knew that Steve hadn’t talked to Connie since she left. 

“Who are you? And where’s my husband?” Connie looked past your shoulder, eyes scanning the living room. It was obvious that Steve never mentioned you. 

“Steve had something at the office to do, then he was running to the store. Would you…Would you like to come in?” You stepped aside, the blanket falling off your shoulder. Connie’s eyes looked from the living room behind you, to you, to the now exposed clothed shoulder.

“Are you inviting me into my own house?” If looks could kill, Connie’s glare would have made you drop dead in the doorway. Shoving her way past you, you watch as she examines the space as if she had never been there before. Pushing the door shut, you walked further into the living room. 

“I-I thought you weren’t coming back, neither did Steve or Peña. After you left, Steve spiraled into a dark place. You had just up and left and you left with his kid. I was there for him when you weren’t.” Pulling the blanket back up, you cover your shoulder once more. Looking at Connie, you harden your gaze, if she was going to give you an attitude then why not return it.

“I left with our kid. Steve was putting work above us and the baby, so of course I’d leave. I thought maybe it would make him realize that he needed to put more effort into us. Apparently all it made him do was go out and find a new hole to fuck.” As the last word slithers from her lips you could feel your blood come to a boil almost instantly.

“It wasn’t my fault your husband was a drunken mess. It wasn’t my fault that your husband was convinced he had lost his wife. I didn’t do that to him. You did Connie.” Taking a step towards her you stare at her with unwavering strength. 

Watching as Connie also takes steps toward you, you’re expecting her to argue her side, to fight back in some way, hell, you were even ready to hear her call you every name under the sun. That’s not what happens though. You hear the slap first, then the white hot stinging. In the midst of all the chaos, your brain didn’t have time to register the sound of the door opening behind Connie. Looking back to her, you raise your hand to your cheek. 

“What the fuck is going on?” Hearing Steve’s voice, your eyes snap to him. Watching him walk further into the room, you can see Connie’s expression soften before turning around to look at her husband.

“Steve, thank Christ you’re home. She was insulting me and calling me all these names. She wa-”

“They.” Steve’s eyes snapping to you before looking back at Connie. “It’s them and I’m not that stupid Connie.” Steve’s eyes find you slower this time. When they finally found you, you could see the frustration and anger melt from his eyes. “I heard the slap, I watched as they brought their hand to their face. The face you slapped.” 

“Wh-What? Stephen, what are you saying? You’re willing to throw away our marriage for this…” You look at Connie as she wildly gestures to you, “Thing?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The things that happened after all of that was kind of a blur. You remember lunging at Connie, you remember managing to get a couple of hits in, mostly to her body, but the few hits that really mattered to you were the punches to her face. One of them blackened one of Connie’s eyes, the other making somewhere in her mouth bleed.

But that was then though. This is now, and right now, you were between Javier and Steve. Steve buried deep inside you, and Javier using your mouth just how he wanted. This whole thing had started out as a passing joke while out one night. You had expected them both to laugh along with you, but you were the only one laughing. You knew that the two of them were imagining the scenario. 

“Fuck baby,” Looking up through your lashes, you can see that Javier had dropped his head down, locking eyes with you, “I don’t think it’s fair you get to fuck them. Their pretty little eyes are practically begging for me to fuck that lovely hole of theirs.” You felt him reach down and tangle his fingers in your hair, holding your head still so that he could fuck your mouth. With every thrust his cock his the back of your throat causing you to gag every time.

“Too bad Peña, only I’m allowed to breed this pretty hole.” You felt Steve grip your hips tighter as a mumble string of curses fell from his parted lips. “A real shame you don’t get to feel how tight they squeeze when they gag.” You could hear the smirk in his voice and normally it would make you roll your eyes, but all you could do was gag and moan on Javier’s cock. With every thrust made you squeeze around Steve more and more as you felt the heat in your stomach climb. “If you keep that up baby, you’re gonna make me cum.” Taking that as a sign, Javier became rougher, only making you squeeze Steve tighter. 

Feeling Steve’s thrusts become erratic you knew he was close and based on the way Javier was now moving he was too. Without warning -even if you could have said anything- you slam yourself back on Steve as you cum. Javier finished not too long after, and Steve was the last one to cum. 

As both pulled out, you collapsed to the mattress below. Panting, you close your eyes and listen to the two of them walk around the bedroom. The first thing you feel is a cool wet cloth gently cleaning you up. The next thing you feel is the blanket being pulled over you. The last -and your personal favorite- thing you feel is the bed dip beside you. Rolling over to face the body, you open your eyes. Though it isn’t Steve you see, it’s Javier. Feeling the bed dip behind you. Looking over your shoulder you watch as Steve situations the pillow.

“S-Steve is Javier staying?” Your voice hoarse from Javier’s fucking. You watch as Steve nods before laying down beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist. Laying down beside Steve, you feel Javier do the same, his arm wrapping around your waist just above Steve’s arm. Closing your eyes you take a deep breath, Javier’s smoky scentmixing with Steve’s woodsy musk almost making your head reel.

“You should get to sleep. We have a long day tomorrow.” You could hear the smirk in Javier’s voice. 

“Shut up Peña, but he is right baby. We do have a pretty long day tomorrow.” You feel Steve press a gentle kiss to the back of your head. Humming out tiredly, you mumble a soft ‘good night’ to the two of them. You had no idea what tomorrow held for you, but that was a problem for you to deal with later.

Credit: @inklore

All Works Taglist:

@for-a-longlongtime @romanarose

Pedro Characters Taglist:

@littlemisspascal @burntheedges

@carusolikey @thebeldroramscal

@morallyinept @lady-bess

@pedrostories @rivnedell

@pascalsanctuary @readingiskeepingmegoing

@jessthebaker

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 12- I Love You. I Know.

Summary: As the end of October approaches, you and Javi learn more about celebrating Halloween and Dia De Los Muertos together. After a sleepless night, and a Halloween party at the Murphy's, Javi begins to open up to you about his past.

Word Count: 15.6K (I'm sweating)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (don't be silly, wrap your willy), oral (m receiving), vaginal fingering, creampie, praise kink, semi-public sex (Oh the poor Murphy's...), PTSD/Anxiety around grief, loss and Javi's past, some angst/tension, mentions of drinking/being drunk (Steve is getting PLASTERED), mentions of food/eating, SO MANY STAR WARS REFERENCES, literally this chapter made me sob while I was writing it, editing it, and re-reading it, I am SO sorry

A/N: You guys. Holy shit. This chapter really had me in my feels. This chapter was def a labor of love, but I'm really happy with how it turned out!! Thank you for as always for all you kind words, you truly, truly, TRULY have no idea how much your support means to me 😭💖 Also please don't kill me after you finish reading this chapter I PROMISE *things* are happening so soon I can literally taste it, but I needed for this chapter to happen first, and you would be silly to think that *things* didn't get its own whole ass chapter and I am just as excited as you AH

Series Masterlist Next Chapter Previous Chapter

The excitement of October’s conclusion was in the air, and the joys of getting to celebrate what you hoped would be the first of many holidays with Javi was at the forefront of your mind. While the end of summer meant school was here and your carefree days were gone until next June, October meant it was time for one of your favorite holidays- Halloween. It was one of your most cherished things to celebrate as a kid, and even still as an adult. The memories of jumping into leaf piles off your swingset with your brothers, dressing up in goofy, homemade costumes to trick-or-treat (because your mom was not about to buy 4 new sets of costumes every single year), carving pumpkins, and stealing as many of your brother’s Kit Kat bars as you could without getting caught, filled your heart with a warmth and joy that you couldn’t quite describe. While the 80 degree temperatures and lack of bright reds and yellows painted across the leaves falling from their trees was much different from the Chicago Octobers you were accustomed to, it hadn’t stopped you from heading full steam into Halloween. 

“So do you have any thoughts on what we should be for Steve and Connie’s? I have no problem going out to buy stuff for costumes, but I can already hear my mom yelling at me for wasting my money on cheaply made clothes I’m gonna wear for 5 hours when I have something perfectly good in my closet.” You rolled your eyes as you shuffled through the hangers, Javi sitting on the edge of your bed folding the laundry you were working on putting away. 

The two of you had gladly accepted the invitation from Steve and Connie to spend the weekend with them in San Antonio, as the Murphy’s planned to host a Halloween party at their house for their friends and co-workers, giving you and Javi a chance to have a fun weekend out of town together. 

“Hmmmm?” He asked, looking up at you as you grabbed a few shirts, examining them for costume potential. “We’re dressing up for this thing?” 

“Yeah, that’s like, the whole point of Halloween, dummy.” You giggled, throwing a few options on the floor before making your way over to your pants. “Didn’t you dress up as a kid for Halloween?” 

Unlike yourself, Javi had spent his whole life celebrating Día de los Muertos, Halloween having nowhere near as much relevance to him as it did to you, spending the end of October and first days of November gathering with his family to spend the day making Pan de Muerto (Day of the Dead sweet bread),  watching the parades on the streets of Downtown Laredo before visiting the cemetery where his grandparents were buried, decorating their graves in cempasúchil (marigold flowers), candles and photographs with his primos (cousins). Since his mom had passed, Javi hadn’t been home to celebrate with his family, and had almost forgone the tradition completely during his time in Colombia, the pain and loss of his mother and the solemn sadness of celebrating alone leading him to try his best to forget about the holiday all together. 

“Uh, no, not, not really. Didn’t really do Halloween, isn’t really as much of a thing down here. My family always celebrated Día de Los Muertos instead.” He replied, almost embarrassed by his answer, not wanting to damper your excitement as you dug through your closet for costumes. 

Your heart sank to your stomach, feeling awful that you hadn’t even taken into consideration that Javi's traditions around this time of year were completely different from what you were used to. The two of you had never really talked about how you wanted to celebrate future holidays, and always had wanted to make sure that the important parts of your lives were celebrated equally. Javi hadn’t said anything after you had spent the past few days putting up Halloween decorations around your apartment, and now you felt like an idiot assuming he had spent his whole life celebrating just like you. 

“Oh… Shit. Javi, I’m so sorry, if you don’t wanna do costumes, we don’t have to, you just hadn’t said anything about Día de Los Muertos so I just assumed that-” 

“Baby, it’s okay.” He pushed himself up off the bed, the width of his broad palms wrapping around your hips, trying to ease the guilt he could tell was rapidly consuming you. “You’re right, I never told you about it. It’s been a long time since I’ve done anything to celebrate it, and I haven’t been home for it since I’ve gotten back from Colombia. I just- I don’t really know how to feel about it, I guess. The last time I did anything for it was before my mom died. I was never able to bring myself to do anything about it while I was gone, and I guess now I just feel really shitty that was the way I decided to handle it.” It broke your heart to see the pain in his eyes, pulling yourself closer to him as you wrapped your arms around his stomach, leaning your head against his chest. It was then, the realization had hit you too- This would be your first year of holidays without Patrick. You didn’t know as much as you would have liked to about Día de Los Muertos, but you did know that it was to celebrate the lives of loved ones you’d lost, a feeling that you and Javi were both all too familiar with. 

“Listen…” You raised your head, looking up at him, arms still intertwined around his waist. “I don’t- I don’t wanna make you do anything that you’re uncomfortable with. I guess this is the first time we’ve ever really talked about this kind of stuff. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you, Jav, and that means celebrating the things that are special to both of us. The things that are important to you are important to me too. I want our lives for us, for our future family, to be filled with all the things we care the most about, whether that means keeping old traditions or making our own new ones. It would mean a lot to me to get to celebrate Día de los Muertos with you, and if it’s okay, I would love to sprinkle in some Halloween too, because I’m fucking dying to carve a pumpkin.” 

You smiled up at him as his hand slid under your jaw, his thumb tracing across your cheek as he tried his best to hold back the tears welling in his eyes. It took everything in him to not ruin his plans, wanting to run into the bedroom, grab the ring out of his sock drawer and propose to you that very instant. Even after all this time, Javi still couldn't believe that he was the person you wanted to share the rest of your life with. That you wanted to intertwine your past, present, and future with his, to have a life, a family, together that the two of you could cherish forever. Never in a million years had he assumed he’d be anywhere close to where he was today, holding the world’s most beautiful, perfect woman in his arms, as she told him how she wanted nothing more than to build a family and spend the rest of her days with him. 

“Osita… I fucking love you so much, you know that?” He leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a soft and deep kiss, your heart racing as he pulled you in tighter. 

“Yeah, I mean, I guess, just a little bit…” You giggled, poking fun at him, considering not a day had passed since the first night he had said it that Javi hadn’t told you just how much he loved you. 

“Shut up, you dork.” He chuckled, making you squeal as he picked you up, playfully shaking you in his grasp before setting you back down. “I’d love nothing more, Hermosa. I don’t know how the fuck you’re supposed to carve a pumpkin or what the hell you have planned for these costumes, but I’m all in. I want it all with you, Osita. Thank you.” 

“Of course. For as much or as little as you want to do for Día de los Muertos, I’m all in too. I’m gonna be honest, I love Hallowen. Not as much as Christmas, but it’s a close second. It means you’re gonna have to trust me with a giant ass knife and cover yourself in pumpkin guts, though.”

“My trust is quickly starting to fade. Seriously though, what the hell are we supposed to dress up as?” He raised an eyebrow at you, nodding over to the pile of clothes you had pulled from your closet, now piled on the floor. 

“Don’t worry, I’ve got some ideas.” 

  The weeks leading up to the holidays had made for fun at home date nights, the both of you genuinely looking forward to learning about the traditions you had both held so dear to your hearts. Almost every night after work, you had done something to celebrate the events leading up to the day. You had shown Javi a few of your favorite Halloween movies, including It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown, Beetlejuice, and Ghostbusters, very adamantly insisting to him that those movies were about as scary as you were going to get, blaming your brothers for scarring you after forcing you to watch The Exorcist at the ripe age of 7 years old. In addition to the movies, you had told him about other funny Trick-Or-Treating stories from your childhood, Javi’s favorite being how your brothers, (being the ruthless idiots they were) paid one of their friends in all of their halloween candy to jump out of a bush dressed as a terrifying old lady to scare the absolute shit out of you, and making you quite literally pee your pants. In return Javi shared his favorite memories of cooking in the kitchen with his mom as she made Pan de Muertos for his family, the two of you even attempting to make it one of the nights after work, milling about the kitchen together as Javi told you about his family you had yet to meet, or had passed away long before you. 

After a lengthy hunt, you were able to find pumpkins, bringing them to Chucho’s house to carve them since you had nowhere to put them inside your apartment. You offered him the rest of your Pan de Muertos in exchange for a place to work on your pumpkins, and while he gladly accepted the bread, the three of you knew Chucho was always happy to have you and Javi over, regardless. 

“So tell me, mija,” Chucho spoke in between mouthfuls of sweet bread, rocking back and forth in his chair, “is there a meaning behind carving the pumpkins, or is it just for fun?” 

“Just for fun! Okay, it looks like we’re ready, you want me to show you how to do it, or just let you go for it?” You smiled at Javi, the two of you sitting cross legged on Chucho’s porch, pumpkins open in front of you. 

“You just scoop them out, right?” Javi questioned, looking into the pumpkin with an unsure grimace. “It seems like there's a lot in here, Osita. I have to get all of it out?” 

“Yeah, or else you can’t see the design when you carve it. C’mon you big baby, just stick your hand in there and pull the guts out!” You laughed, digging your hand into your pumpkin, scooping out hearty globs of pumpkin guts, slopping them into the bucket Chucho had set out for you. Reluctantly, Javi joined, you and Chucho both absolutely dying at Javi’s face as his hand met the squishy fibers inside his pumpkin. 

“Jesus, that feels fucking gross!” He laughed, shaking his head as he threw some of the seeds and strings into the trash next to him. 

“You need me to do it for you?” You giggled, flicking a pumpkin seed at him as he winced with the second handful he pulled out. 

“No, cabrón (asshole), I can do it.” Javi grumbled as he rolled his eyes at you, the both of you scooping hearty handfuls of goop. 

“You hear that, Chucho? Calling me an asshole because he’s too scared to pull out pumpkin guts.” You looked back at his dad, giving him a playful grin, his smile already wide from the enjoyment of watching the two of you. With your back turned to Javi, you hadn’t noticed the small handful of seeds he had collected in his hand, lining up his arm to aim right at the back of your head. “I can’t believe that- HEY!” You whipped your neck around, running your hand over the back of your neck, picking seeds and strings out of your hair, seeing Javi snicker to himself as your jaw dropped open in shock. “Did you seriously just throw pumpkin guts at me?!” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, must have been a ghost.” He shrugged, smirking to himself before digging his hand back into his pumpkin. 

“You see this?!” You looked back at Chucho, pointing your finger at Javi, pretending to be stern, although your laughter quickly escaped. “Absolutely ridiculous, I swear.” 

“Javier, that is no way to treat your future esposa! (Wife) No quiero mis nietos ser cubierto en calabaza! Me encantáran en cualquier caso, pero todavía! (I don’t want my future grandchildren covered in pumpkin! I will love them either way, but still!)” Chucho scolded with a smirk, you and Javi silently smiling to each other at the thought of one day doing this with your own children. Javi had tried to stop fighting off his dad’s comments about grandkids a while ago- Chucho knew just as well as the two of you that he would have his grandchildren soon enough. 

“Ella lo pído… (She asked for it…)” Javi muttered under his breath, shooting his gaze up at you as he felt cold goop hit the side of his cheek, wiping the pumpkin you had just thrown at him off with the back of his hand, watching you smirk silently to yourself as you continued to scoop out your pumpkin.

“Ahora… Estamos a mano. (And now… We’re even.)” 

The 3 of you chatted on the porch, the sky now painted a dark black, filled with twinkling constellations above as you finished carving your pumpkins. Yours, a cute ghost with a little smiley face, and Javi’s, what he had tried to convince you and Chucho was also a ghost, even though it looked more like he had just carved a squiggly hole in the middle of his. It took a little prodding and convincing, but as you all talked about how the Peña family had spent many a Día de los Muertos, you and Chucho were able to get Javi to agree to go visit his mom’s gravesite on the Sunday after you got back from Steve and Connie’s party. Chucho had even promised to keep his tias, tios, and primos (aunts, uncles, and cousins) completely out of the picture this year, wanting to give Javi all the time and space he needed to go see his mom for the first time since her funeral. He was reluctant at first, riddled with the guilt of leaving her unvisited all these years, but as he felt the gentle squeeze of your hand, your silent reassurance was all he needed to know that you would be by his side, every step of the way. As you said your goodbyes, Chucho hugged you just a little extra tighter than normal, as if to thank you for everything you had done for his son, and just how thankful he was to have you in his life, too. 

Even though the Murphy’s had very graciously offered to let you and Javi stay on Friday night as well as Saturday, both Steve and Connie very much understood when you had told them on the phone that the only thing that you wanted to do after coming home from the chaos of managing an elementary school Halloween party was take a very, very long nap. You and Javi had spent the night ordering pizza and watching Young Frankenstein, only lasting about 20 minutes into the movie before you were dead asleep, snoring against Javi’s chest, still dressed in If You Give A Mouse A Cookie costume from earlier today. Carrying you to bed and undressing you from your mouse ears and oversized overalls, Javi curled into bed next to you, pulling your body against his as he stared at the ceiling. Despite how hard he tried to fall asleep, he laid there, wide awake as ever, as his head raced with the tornado of thoughts brewing inside his brain. 

Javier Peña had never really considered himself to be an anxious person. For most of his life, he couldn’t be. For the sake of his job, the sake of his family after his Mom passed, Javi had survived the only way he had known how- Block it out, and ignore it. And so far, that strategy had seemed to bode for him pretty darn well. But that was before he had anyone who depended on him, cared about him, anyone who made his life worth living for. That was before he had met you. Now, Javi found himself at the crossroads of a moment he had been waiting for since the moment he had first laid eyes on you. Something that brought him absolute joy and sheer terror at the same time- Javier Peña was going to propose to you, and he was an anxious fucking mess. 

If that in itself wasn’t enough, things at the Laredo County Sheriff's Department had been an absolute shit show. Mexico was the only thing on anyone’s radar, making for long days and high tension at the office, trying to do anything to slow the spread of the cartel’s influence across the border. Day after day, report after report, it felt like the department was drowning in the endless shitty news of new death tolls, record breaking trafficking stats, and lack of control as cocaine moved across the Rio Grande at a groundbreaking pace. Even though he found himself even further removed from Mexico than he ever was in Colombia, he couldn’t help but feel that painful, searing wrench in his gut when he sat down to really think about it. 

You. 

Spending your lives together.

Having a family.

Protecting his wife and kids. 

The things he would do to keep you safe.

The terrible things he had done he had justified were keeping other people safe. 

The imagines of the things he wish he could unsee.

The pain and hurt he wished he could take back. 

The fear of what he was capable of doing. 

So with a knot in his chest from work, a ring hidden away in his sock drawer, and the beginnings of a plan to ask the woman he loved more than life itself to marry him, Javi coped with the weight of his stress the only way he knew how. He couldn’t fucking sleep. 

The thoughts played in his mind on repeat, torturing him with every loop around his brain. He tried his best to close his eyes, to empty his head for a moment of peace, but no matter how much he wished he could have willed himself to sleep, it was no use. By the time the alarm clock on his nightstand read 2:05 AM, Javi had completely given up on the idea of rest for the night, quietly making his way out of bed to go wander around the living room. It wasn’t long before you too were also awake, rolling over in your sleep to find Javi’s space in the bed cold and empty. Rubbing your eyes and propping yourself up against your pillow, you scanned around the darkness of your room as you came to, realizing that Javi was nowhere to be found.  Draping one of the blankets from your bed over you, you crept into the hallway, greeted by the soft light of one of the living room lamps painting shadows against the wall. 

“Javi, are you up?” Your voice still soft and sleepy, rubbing your hand along your face, squinting from the sudden brightness that lit up the room. 

“Osita, baby, did I wake you up? I'm so sorry. Go back to bed, okay?” Javi shot up from the couch, setting down whatever book he had been half focused on reading as he watched your bed headed figure meander into the living room. 

“No, it’s okay.” You grumbled, holding out your blanket covered arms for Javi to melt his body into yours, wrapping you in a tight hug. You pressed your head into the bare skin of his chest, snaking your hands around his waist as he planted his lips against the the top of your head, burying his nose in your tangled hair. “Baby, what’s going on? Why can’t you sleep? I’m worried about you, Jav.” 

“I’m… Yeah, I’m okay, Hermosa. Just a lot on my mind.” He sighed, his exhale still buried in your hair as he savored the smell of you, still lingering even in your sleepy state. 

His pause alone was enough to know okay wasn’t the word that you would use to describe Javi right now. His words were burdened and fatigued, making it clear that whatever was on his mind was weighing on him more heavily than he wanted to admit. 

“Are you sure? Javi, if you wanna talk about anything, you know I’m always here, right?” 

You wanted so desperately to pry. Everything in you had a feeling that whatever was keeping him up were entangled in the parts of his dark parts past, the last secrets holding up the final wall between the two of you. You knew from your brothers how hard it was to talk about the pain and suffering they had witnessed, and begging them to talk about it before they were ready only seemed to make it worse. Hell, after Patrick died, it felt like you didn’t sleep for weeks, and it had taken you months to open up about it. You knew Javi hurt, and as much as you wanted to, digging deeper into the things that plagued him in his restless nights wasn’t what he needed right now. Right now, he just needed someone to be there for him. 

“Is there anything I can do, Javi? I just wanna help.” The breath of your sympathetic whispers were hot against Javi’s skin, squeezing your arms to pull him as close to you as he could. He paused for a moment, letting out another deep breath as cradled the back of your head with his palm, running his hands through your hair. 

“Will- Will you stay up with me? Just a little bit longer?” His voice trembled as you turned your head to lock your eyes with his, the gentle nod of your head bringing him a moment of relief. 

“Of course, baby. Of course I’ll stay up with you. Do you wanna turn on the TV or put on a movie? Sometimes that helps me sleep.” You stretched your arms over your head, scrunching your face as you yawned before tugging your blanket tighter around your body. 

“Believe me, Hermosa, I know it does.” He let out a soft chuckle as he pressed a soft kiss against your forehead. 

“Oh shit, yeah that is true. I don’t even think I made it halfway through Young Frankenstein tonight, which is a crime. It’s such a good movie. I don’t even remember getting into bed.” You yawned again, this time taking one of your blanket covered fists to try and rub the sleep out of your eyes, forcing yourself to stay awake. 

“Well, if you give a mouse pizza and a movie after a long day at school, then she’ll probably need her boyfriend to carry her to bed because she’s so tired.” Now awake enough, Javi’s cute jab at your costume for school made you let out a little giggle, giving him a little shove with your blanket wrapped body. “Why don’t we turn the rest of it on, so you can finish watching?” 

“I don’t wanna fall asleep on you, Javi.” You grumbled, pouting up at him, considering he had just asked you to stay awake with him. 

“It’s okay. As long as I have you by me, I’ll be alright, I promise.” Reluctantly, you nodded in agreement, plopping yourself on the couch as Javi turned on the TV, rewinding the VHS tape to the point where you had fallen asleep earlier before joining you, draping his arm around your shoulder as you tucked in your knees and scooted closer to him. You sat for a few minutes in silence, letting the sounds of the movie fill the background. As you turned your head to look up at Javi, you could tell that even though his eyes were pointed at the screen, there was no way he was really watching the movie. Reaching up your hand, you ran your fingers across the length of his strong jaw, his stubble scratching against your palm, forcing him to look back at you. Your eyes met his, the sweet, chocolate brown looking back at you, with a confusing mix of exhaustion, guilt, want and helplessness. You brought your face closer to his, your lips now only inches apart as your whispers danced against his mouth, desperate to find something to ease his pain. 

“What do you need, Javi? Whatever you need, I’ll give it to you.” 

His tongue swept against his bottom lip, taking one last shaky breath before his words left his body with his exhale. 

“You. I need you.” 

His hands found their way to the bare skin of your thighs, his fingertips barely brushing against your flesh as he traced his way up to your torso, toying with the hem of one of his shirts that always looked so much better on you than him. Pressing his palm against the soft curves of your stomach, he tugged at the waistband of your sleep shorts, causing you to shift your body so he could slide them down your legs. Reaching over towards his lap, you grasped at his boxers, feeling him already half hard under the fabric as you rubbed your hand against him. Javi held your hips, slowly guiding you to straddle him as you kicked your shorts off your feet, leaving them in a pile on the ground. Slowly, you began to grind deeper into his lap, the feeling of him now fully hard beneath you. Gently prompting you to raise your arms over your head, Javi lifted your shirt, leaving you bare as he dropped it next to your shorts. 

“Is this okay?” Javi rasped, pressing languid kisses against your neck and collarbone as you ran your hands against the width of his broad shoulders. 

“Of course, baby.” Your reply low and horse as you began to drag the fabric of his boxers lower and lower, finally letting his cock spring free as his waistband pushed past. You brought your palm to your mouth, licking a long, wet strip across it before wrapping it around his length, thumbing over the precum already leaking from his tip. Javi tilted his head against the back of the couch as you twisted your wrist, stroking his cock, letting out a hushed moan before sitting back up to watch you. 

“You’re fucking perfect, Osita. I don’t deserve you.” He dug his fingertips into the soft flesh of your ass, his sweet, brown eyes locked on yours as you pressed against him, nibbling at his ear. 

“You deserve everything, Javi. I could give you everything in the world and it still wouldn’t be enough.” Javi grasped at your face, cupping your cheeks as he pressed his lips against yours in a deep, intense kiss, his voice shaky and lustful as his mouth parted with yours before he spoke. 

“I don’t need anything besides you, Osita. Eres mi todo. Estás todo lo que necesito. (You are my everything. You’re all I’ll ever need.) He shuttered, letting out a low groan as you continued to rub your hand along his length, Javi now reaching down to trace lazy circles around your clit before dipping his fingers inside your wet heat. His fullness made you whimper, wrapping tighter around his cock as you stroked him, now bucking your hips against his hand as his fingers curled, bumping against the spongy spot that made you lose control. “Does that feel good, sweet girl? Fuck, you’re so wet. 

“Mhmmmmm.” You gasped, rapidly nodding your head as his digits pulsed inside you, your cunt already drenched, desperate to feel the fullness of his dick, despite the thickness of his fingers. Carefully, you lifted your hips, moving yourself closer to him as you ran your fingers through the soft ends of his sleepy curls. Sitting up on your knees, Javi removed his hand as he watched you hover over him, his palms roaming to your hips as you guided his tip through your folds, collecting your arousal before lining him up with your entrance. His jaw went slack as you lowered down on to him, taking your time as you savored the stretch of every sweet inch until you had bottomed out at his base. 

“Fuckkk, baby.” He mewled, gently guiding his hands against your hips as you dragged yourself up along his length before headfully sinking back down, the tip of his cock bumping against your cervix with each movement. Javi nipped at your neck, trailing hot, wet kisses down your collarbone before stopping at your breasts, flicking this tongue along each of your pebbled nipples as you pushed deeper into his lap, whimpering at his touch. “My sweet girl, always taking me so well, like you were fucking made for me, baby. God, you’re so fucking gorgeous.” Javi pulled you in tighter, caging his chest against yours as his arms wrapped around the small of your back as he rested his face in the crook of your neck. “Fuck, I love you so much, Osita.” His words were desperate and needy against your bare skin, digging your fingers into his dark curls as you swirled your hips around his cock. 

“I love you too, Javi. More than anything.” You moaned as felt Javi shift his weight, thrusting upwards as he buried himself deep inside you. His fullness had you digging your nails into the nape of his neck, your body melting into his with each push and pull against each other. You could feel the all too familiar tingle creeping up your legs and through the base of your spine as Javi’s hand found its way to circle around your clit, already throbbing as the curled hair around his base brushed against your sensitive nerves. The lewd noises of your moans and tangled bodies drowned out the sounds of the TV behind you, practically hearing how wet you were as Javi cock slipped in and out of your heat, his pace pounding as he punched into you. You could feel your walls beginning to tighten around him, arousal pooling in your belly, Javi knowing you were close as you whimpered into the crook of his neck. “Fuck baby, don’t stop- ahhhh- please don’t stop, I’m so close.” 

“I know, baby, I know. Let go for me, Osita. Wanna feel you soak my lap before I fuck you full of me. Cum for me baby, it’s okay, I’ve got you.” Javi’s fingers rubbed faster along your clit as you rolled your hips, sinking yourself deeper onto his cock with each thrust, your vision going white as you could feel yourself come undone. 

“Javi, Javi- fuck- Javi, Jav-ahhhhhh.” You could feel yourself gush around him, crying out his name as you reached your high, your legs shaking and fingers digging into his skin, pleasure flowing through your veins. 

“That’s it, Hermosa. Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum too, fuck myself so deep inside you. My perfect girl. Mierda- Quiero que seas mío para siempre, mi amor. Solo tú, por siempre y para siempre. (Shit- I want you to be mine forever, my love. Only you, forever and always). Fuck me, I- fuckkkk.” Javi hissed as he buried himself deep in your hilt, spilling every drop of his spend against your walls. You could feel the mixture of the both of you dripping down your thighs, soaking Javi’s lap as you slumped into his body, your heart racing as the damp curls of his hair pressed against your shoulder. You both sat there for a moment, letting your chests rise and fall together in sync as you came to. “Fuck me, Osita. I could stay like this forever, baby.”

“You and me both. Although, I feel like that would make things awfully inconvenient for the both of us.” Your soft, sleepy giggles making Javi smile as he ran his fingers though the twisted ends of your hair. Carefully, you lifted yourself up, hissing at the loss of Javi inside you. 

“Thank you, Osita.” Javi whispered, tenderly circling his thumb along your jaw as you curled up next to him. 

“For what?” 

“Just- fuck, you’re so good to me. I don’t know what I’d do without you. So, I just- thank you. Thank you for being everything I need.” Planting a gentle kiss on your forehead, Javi pulled you tighter, holding you in his arms as you leaned against him. 

“I’ll always be here for you, Javi. I promise.” 

You hoped he knew. That he knew your words were true. That when the time came for him to open up to you, letting you into the painful past that loomed above him, that you wouldn’t run. You would be right by his side, just as you were right now. 

“Well good morning, Sleeping Beauty.” Javi chuckled as you twisted in the passenger seat, stretching your arms over your head, scrunching your face, letting out a lengthy yawn. 

“Fuck, how long was I asleep for? How much longer do we have left? Sorry, I wasn’t planning on sleeping that long, I just wanted to take a nap for a little while we drove.” You ran your hands over your face, looking out at the bright Texas sun shining over the neat suburban neighborhood you now found yourself driving through. Javi reached over across the center console, rubbing his hand along your thigh as he chuckled to himself. 

“Baby, I knew from the moment you fell asleep you were gonna be out for the rest of the drive, it’s okay. I was just worried I was gonna have to wake you up in the Murphy’s driveway.” You grumbled as you looked over at Javi, giving him a playful swat against his arm, shaking your head, now emerging from your post nap fog. 

“Well if we weren't up fucking at 2:30 in the morning, perhaps I wouldn’t be so tired, hmmmm?” 

Javi rolled his eyes as you poked fun at how the both of you had found yourselves last night, trying to ease Javi’s sleeplessness. While your solution had worked enough to ease him back to bed, it had now left you wide awake, wondering what had been going through Javi’s head, torturing him enough to keep him up. It had also meant that the two of you had slept in much longer than you intended, leaving later than planned for Steve and Connie’s. The two of you had quickly packed your things and hit the road, stopping to grab lunch on the way before you found yourself dead asleep next to Javi for the last hour and a half of your journey to San Antonio. With only a few minutes now left in your drive, you peered out the window, admiring the houses that lined the quiet streets of the Murphy’s neighborhood. 

“This is a cute subdivision.” You smiled over at Javi, admiring the houses, charming and inviting as they were freshly decorated from Halloween. 

“Yeah, it is pretty nice.” He grinned back, wrapping his palm around your thigh, giving your leg a little squeeze. He took a deep breath, his voice now shifting in tone, becoming more shaky and nervous. “Would you uh- would you, um, wanna live in a neighborhood like this?” 

“Maybe. I don’t know, the houses are all really close together. I spent so much of my life in the city, and even at my house growing up, everything always felt so cramped. After coming here, especially after seeing your ranch, I don’t know, I would love to be somewhere with more space. But that’s a big ask, so, maybe one day if it works out, I guess.” You reached over, rubbing your hand along Javi’s arm, your soft smile meeting his tender gaze as he smirked, nodding to himself. 

“Yeah, one day.” 

Taking a last turn down one of the neighborhood streets, the two of you pulled up to the quaint two story home belonging to the Murphy’s. Turning off the ignition, Javi paused for a moment, grinning to himself as he ran the hand resting on your leg up to your face, cupping your check as his eyes roamed the length of your body, taking every inch of you in as his sweet brown eyes consumed you. “I love you, Osita.”  

“I love you too, Jav.” Both of your heads tilted, your lips gently pressing against one anothers as you traced your hand through Javi’s dark curls, pulling him closer into you. You could feel his smile against your mouth as his tongue barely swiped against your bottom lip, the two of you so lost in the moment, you hadn’t even seen Steve make his way out of the house to greet you, let alone the fact that he was now standing at the driver’s side door, hands on his hips as he watched your impromptu makeout session in Javi’s truck. 

“You two lovebirds want help bringin’ your bags in, or do I need to give you a minute?” Steve chuckled to himself as you and Javi shot up, hearts racing and faces going white hearing his distinct drawl and rapid tapping at the driver’s side window. Taking a deep breath to compose himself, Javi placed one more soft kiss on your forehead before promptly turning around to flip off Steve and opening the driver’s side door. “You two are worse than a pair of horny teenagers, I swear.” You could hear Steve still snickering to himself as you exited out your side of the car, making your way over to find Javi and Steve in a tight hug, lovingly patting each other on the back. 

“Fuck off, Murph.” Javi shook his head against Steve’s embrace, pulling away to grab your two bags from the backseat. 

“Listen, I’m not the one makin’ out in my driveway.” Steve shrugged as you sheepishly emerged from your side of the truck, smiling at you as grimaced at him. 

“He started it…” You glanced over at Javi, you and Steve now both giggling as he pulled you in for a hug. 

“Of course he did, wouldn’t put anything past this old bastard. How ya doin’ sweetheart? Good to see the both of you, we’re really glad you guys could make it. 

“She’s doing great after the hour and a half nap she took on the way here.” Javi interjected, slamming the truck door behind him, slinging both of your bags over his shoulder. 

“Whatever, you meanie. In my defense, I was not planning to sleep that long, and I think Halloween exhaustion got the best of me.” You shot Javi a quick wink, trying to bite down on your lip before turning back to face Steve. 

“Listen, I don’t blame ya. I’m fuckin’ exhausted after trick-or-treating with 3 kids, let alone tryin’ to keep ‘em wrangled at school all day. I love those girls, but I don’t think I could've gotten them in my parents car fast enough when they came to pick ‘em up this morning. Here, come on in, I won’t make you stand out in the driveway all day, unless you need to make out more.” 

As you stepped into the Murphy home, you were greeted by an abundance of Halloween streamers and banners hanging in the living room and up the stairwell to the second floor, along with a few Barbie dolls and accessories scattered across the entryway, nearly stepping on one as you came through the door. You could smell the sweet scent of something baking in the kitchen as Connie came rushing through the hallway, arms outstretched to greet you and Javi. “Oh it’s so good to see you two, thank you so much for coming!” Connie squeezed you and Javi in a tight hug before she backed away, kicking one of the toys on the floor across the room. “Sorry about the Barbies, I told the girls to clean up before they left for their grandparents this morning but I think all 3 of them are still running on a sugar high from last night and that obviously didn’t happen.” 

“Thank you so much for having us! Don’t worry about it at all, I totally understand! Javi was just telling me on the way over how much he was hoping the girls had Barbies he could play with anyways!” The 3 of you laughed as Javi rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as you gave him a smirk and a little nudge. 

“Fuck, I forgot how funny she was Jav.” Steve snickered to himself, picking up one of the Barbies and tossing it across the room into one of the toy baskets along the wall. “Seriously though, we are really glad you guys could make it. Your birthday party was fun as hell, old man. Glad to be close enough to actually see each other and do stuff like this again.” 

Before Javi would respond, you all jumped, startled by the sound of the kitchen timer beeping rapidly from the other room. “Oh crap, sorry, I gotta grab the cupcakes out of the oven!” Connie grimaced apologetically, making her way back to the kitchen. 

“Do you need any help?” You asked, excited to spend more time with Connie. 

“Oh my gosh actually if you could help with frosting the cupcakes that would be amazing. I made these yesterday for Olivia and Abby’s class parties, and I had no idea it was gonna take so long and was worried I wasn’t going to have enough time for all of them before the party! Thank you!” 

“Of course!” You replied, grinning at her before following her lead to the kitchen, giving a little wave as you disappeared around the hall, looking back at Steve and Javi. “Have fun, you two.” 

Steve paused for a moment until the both of you were out of sight, waiting to forcefully slap his hand against Javi’s chest, making him groan from the unexpected pain. 

“What the fuck was that for, you jackass?” Javi winced, glaring at Steve. 

“Where the fuck’s the ring, man?! Steve hissed through gritted teeth, looking back at Javi in disappointment. “I thought you were gonna fuckin’ do it after you got back from Chicago and met her family?! I thought everything was all good with- oh shit, did something happen with the ho-” 

“Shhhhhh! You fuckin’ idiot, please, talk louder, I don’t think the people at the end of the street could hear you.” Javi looked around the corner, clenching his jaw, praying that you hadn’t heard anything from the kitchen. 

“I’m not that fuckin’ loud… Shit, what the fuck happened then?” Steve grumbled, looking over at Javi with concern. 

“Can we maybe talk about proposal plans somewhere that’s not right by the woman I’m trying to propose to?” Running his thumb over his balled fists, Javi’s eyes darted back and forth, staying on the lookout for your return. 

“Fine, fine, fine. I’ll show you where the guest room is and then you can tell me.” Steve motioned up the stairs, Javi trailing behind with both your bags draped around his shoulders

“Was I really that fuckin’ loud?” 

“…Have you heard yourself talk?” 

“So how’s everything been going at work? There definitely was a full moon sometime in the past week because things were crazy at the hospital, I’m sure they had to be equally as bad at an elementary school.” You and Connie giggled as you squeezed a dollop of orange frosting onto one of the cupcakes before taking one of the little bags to pipe on eyes and a mouth to make it look like a pumpkin. 

“Oh my god, I think it must have been on Wednesday, I had a boy cut another girl’s hair with scissors and then had to call another parent because her daughter bit another kid at recess pretending to play werewolves. I felt really bad we didn’t come last night, I was exhausted after our Halloween party, I fell asleep on poor Javi at like, 8 o’clock.” 

Although you found yourself laughing with Connie again, you couldn’t help but shake the uncomfortable feeling you had in your gut as you thought about after you had woken up in the middle of the night to find Javi wide awake and distressed. You carefully set down your spatula, taking a deep breath before glancing over at Connie, still frosting next to you. “Hey, uh, Connie? Can, um- Can I ask you something?” Connie immediately sensed the shift in your tone, putting down her cupcake. 

“Of course, honey. What’s going on?” 

“Did um, did- Did Steve ever- ever talk to you? About all the stuff that happened in Colombia? I mean like, I know you were there, but I don’t know. Sorry, I don’t know what I’m trying to ask, this is probably way too personal, I-” You could feel yourself shrinking, retracting in embarrassment at your overly intrusive question, unable to finish your thought before Connie cut you off, placing her hand on your shoulder. 

“Oh, honey…” Her eyes were filled with sympathy as they looked back at yours, letting out a sigh before she responded. “Did something happen?” You began to nod your head no, even though you could feel the words yes burning in your throat. You took another shaky breath, trying to hold back the tears now welling in your eyes as you spoke. 

“No I mean- well, yeah, I guess. Last night, I woke up and Javi wasn’t in bed. He was out in the living room and I could tell that something was bothering him. I don’t know- maybe it was nothing. I just- when my brothers came back from active duty, there were a lot of things that kind of just went unspoken. I knew it was hard for them to talk about. Charlie handled it okay, but my brother Patrick never wanted to talk to anyone about what happened, and it just- I don’t know Connie, I don’t think Javi would ever do anything stupid like he did, but- fuck- it scares me sometimes. I know Javi’s done things that he’s probably not proud of, and I get it’s part of the nature of what his job was. I don’t care. I really don’t. People do shitty things when they’re put in shitty situations. But he never talks about it. Ever. Does… Does he not trust me? I care about him so much, Con. More than anything. I get so worried about him.” 

Your tears were now streaming down your cheeks, leaving your face wet as you wiped the back of your hand across your skin to try and do some form of damage control before Connie embraced you, pulling you in for a hug, tightly wrapping her arms around you. “Oh sweetheart. Of course he trusts you. When Steve came back, he was a mess. I don’t think it really all hit him until he was finally home. I guess you’re right, it was different because I was there, but even then, there were things that happened that I didn’t know about. After begging and begging him, I finally got him to go to see someone and it really helped, but even now, there’s times where it still creeps up on him. Honey, Javi loves you so much. I didn’t think I’d ever live to see the day he was in love as he is with you. If he’s anything like Steve, he just doesn't wanna hurt you.” 

You sniffled, taking a step back to wipe your nose with your sleeve, your lip trembling as you tried to keep from crying harder than you already were. “But that’s what hurts, Connie. It hurts me to think he has to keep this from me, like I’m gonna think less of him for what he’s been through.” 

“I know. Have you talked to him about it?” Connie’s voice was gentle and sweet, rubbing her hand along your arm as she listened to what you needed to get off your chest. 

“No… I guess I should have. I never wanted to pry. I know it’s hard to talk about, I just- I wanna be there for him Connie. I don’t want him to have to do it all on his own.” You shifted your gaze to the ground, guilt washing over you. After Patrick, you couldn’t live with the idea of letting Javi try to suffer through his past alone. You loved him more than anything- and even the slightest thought of going through anything similar to what had happened to Patrick again with Javi was almost paralyzing. 

“I think the best thing you can do is to go talk to him.” Looking back up, you saw Connie smiling at you, trying to convince you that everything would be okay, even if it felt like it wasn’t. “Why don’t you go find him? Party’s starting soon anyways, you can go change into your costumes and come down wherever you’re ready. I’ll be just fine with the cupcakes, tell Steve can put himself to work frosting.” The both of you grinned as you tried to wipe your tears, nodding slowly in agreement. 

“Thanks, Connie.” You whispered into her shoulder as you pulled her in for a hug before heading up the stairs to find where Javi and Steve had gone. It didn’t take you long to find the pair, hearing their voices carry through the hallway from the slightly cracked door of the guest bedroom. You were about to knock and interrupt their conversation, stopping yourself with your fist barely touching the door as you tried to make out what they were talking about. 

“The offer was in fucking cash, too. I was trying to make it easier so I could speed up the process, but it’s been taking them so goddamn long to close on everything so I can finally go sign the fucking paperwork.” 

“That fuckin’ blows, Jav. I’m sorry. It’s not like she knows any better, though. It’ll still be a huge fuckin’ surprise, I’ll tell you that much.” 

“I know. It’s been killing me to wait this long. I just want it to be perfect, Steve. She deserves everything. Honestly, I’m kinda glad it bought me some more time. I need to find a way to get her to see it before everything’s official in case she fucking hates it.” 

“Javi. She’s not gonna hate it. Fuck it, tell her Connie and I are lookin’ for somethin’ and we wanted you two to go see it for us. I don’t know, maybe that’s too obvious. Speakin’ of which, I should probably go check to see if she needs anything before this party, I’m already in the fuckin’ dog house for forgettin’ to bring the girl’s trick-or-treatin’ bags to school, I don’t need to be in trouble for anything else.” 

What the hell were they talking about? What was Javi signing? Why was it taking so long? What the hell did it have to do with you? Wait… holy fuck. No way… Was he- 

Before you could finish your thought, you suddenly realized Steve was making his way towards the door. You quickly rapped your fist against the wood, trying to play off the fact you had been eavesdropping and make it look like you had just unassumingly made your way upstairs, not overhearing the conversation the two were just having. 

Knock, knock. 

“Hey, it’s me! Uh, Steve, Con wants to know if you can help her with the cupcakes really quick.” You pushed open the door, trying your best to smile at the suspicious pair as Steve shook his head, looking back at Javi. 

“It’s always fuckin’ somethin’. I don’t even know what I did wrong this time, I swear.” Steve held up his hands defensively, sliding his way past you in the doorway before heading downstairs, leaving you standing there awkwardly, unsure how to feel after your conversation with Connie and the one you had just overheard. 

“Hey, Osita. How’s everything goin’ down there? Sorry, we were just about to come down and- Hey, baby, you okay?” Javi stood up, concern spreading across his face from the strange scrunch in your brow as you stared at the floor. 

“Ummmm…” You froze for a moment, unsure of what to do. On the one hand, your conversation with Connie had you ready to confront Javi, to finally work up the courage to ask him about the past life he had tried his best to keep from you. But as you glanced over at him, seeing his sweet brown eyes and stupidly handsome face, remembering the discussion you had just overheard through the doorway, the other hand meant you weren’t at risk of ruining your night that the two of you had been so looking forward to, and right now, the other hand was going to have to be the one you needed to play. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good, I just- I was gonna ask you something but forgot what I was gonna say. I’m sure I’ll remember it eventually.” You smiled at Javi, neither of you completely convinced by your response. “But um, Connie said that people are gonna start getting here soon, so we can change into our costumes if you want.” A smirk slowly stretched across your cheeks as you nodded over to the black duffle bags laying on the bed. 

Javi’s grin matched yours quickly, grabbing your hips and pulling you closer against him as you giggled. “You sure we’re not gonna be the only ones dressed up?” 

“Well considering it’s a Halloween party and I literally just talked to Connie about what she and Steve are wearing downstairs, I’m gonna give it a pretty confident yes. Worst case, it just looks like you’re wearing a white shirt and vest, Mr. Solo. You stuck up, half-witted, scruffy looking nerf herder.” You raised your eyebrows, playfully poking at his chest. Javi paused, shaking his head at your quote, firing one right back at you as he bit down on his lip. 

“You just like me because I’m a scoundrel. There aren’t enough scoundrels in your life.” 

“I happen to like nice men.” 

“I am a nice man.”  

Javi cupped your face, pulling you in for a long, heavy kiss before backing away to unpack your bags, shooting you a quick wink as you rolled your eyes. Jesus, he even found a way to make Star Wars sexy. Just when you thought you couldn’t be anymore in love, Javier Peña never failed to find a way to make you realize you’d never stop falling for him. 

After putting in what felt like the 74th bobby pin into your hair after getting the last braid wrapped over your head, you gave yourself a once over in the mirror, pleasantly surprised by how well your costume had turned out. While Javi was disappointed you were adamant you were not going as Princess Leia from Return of the Jedi and showing up in front of a group of strangers at Steve and Connie’s party in her slave costume, you and Javi both agreed that Hoth Princess Leia was definitely the next best look. Staring at you with his puppy dog eyes, Javi had been adamant about waiting with you as you finished getting ready, leaning his hip against the bathroom counter, arms crossed over his chest as he watched you finish the last of your hair and makeup. 

“Okay, I think that should stay. All those years of braiding my hair for under my hockey helmet are finally coming in handy for something.” You snickered, pushing the final clip into your hair to hold it into place, giving yourself a once over in the mirror. As you looked yourself down, Javi’s eyes wandered up and down your body just as fast, practically undressing you as fast as you had put your costume on. 

“Goddamn, Osita… Fuck, you’re so hot.” 

“Me? Jesus Christ, Javi. You put Harrison Ford to shame with how fucking good you look. I like Han Solo better with a mustache anyways.” You licked your tongue against your bottom lip, running your hands along the muscles of his arms, straining against the tight henley shirt he was wearing under his vest. You were no better than Javi, practically having to force yourself to not look in his general direction while you were getting ready to prevent yourself from pouncing on him. But given the lack of chatter downstairs, and the impressive speed at which the two of you had gotten ready, you really couldn’t help yourself. Slowly, you let your hands begin to slip down his arms and across his chest, palming at the denim of his black jeans as he let out a deep groan. 

“Hermosa…” He hissed against your neck as you grasped at the bulge now growing under his pants, your other hand now making its way down to undo his belt, the clinking of the metal drowned out by Javi’s heavy panting. You began lowering your body, sliding Javi’s pants and boxers down his thighs as his cock sprang free, his tip already red and leaking with precum. You rested on your knees, face to face with his length as you wrapped your hand around him, slowly stroking him a few times. 

“This okay, Captain Solo?” You batted your lashes at him, giving him a wink before letting your spit dribble onto his cock, taking his tip into your mouth and swirling your tongue around it. Curling your fingers around his base, you began to twist your wrist, hollowing out your cheeks as you took him deeper into your mouth. 

“Oh, fuck me. Holy shit, Osita.” He moaned, tilting his head back, letting his jaw go slack as your head bobbed back and forth. He gently rested his hand along the side of your face, helping to guide you along his length as you took him deeper and deeper down your throat. “Jesus Christ, baby. Fuck, that feels so good. You look so hot, god fuckin’ dammit.” Javi’s words were labored and shaky as you started to increase your pace, wrapping your free hand around the back of his bare thigh, digging your fingertips into his leg. Feeling the pressure beginning to build in his stomach, Javi began rocking his hips, his jaw completely slack as he looked down at the sight of how well you took him in your mouth, saliva dribbling down your chin as sucked along his cock, hard and heavy on your tongue. “Fuck, Osita. I’m not gonna last much longer. Can I cum like this, baby? Fill up that- fuck- fill up that pretty little mouth of yours?”” 

You glanced up at him, nodding, your lips still wrapped around his dick, the motions of your head and wrist now becoming faster and sloppier as you watched Javi’s brow scrunch and jaw clench, a sign you knew all too well that he was moments away from coming undone. 

“Such a good fucking girl, taking me so well. Fuck, baby- shit- se sientes tan bien, estoy tan cercaaahhhhhh-” (you feel so good, I’m so closeeeee-). The hot ropes of his spend coated the back of your throat, the salty, tangy mix filling your mouth as Javi whined, giving his hips one last push as kept your lips wrapped around him, making sure that you had milked him of every last drop before releasing. Letting your spit and his release fall from the corners of your lips, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, smirking up at Javi’s blissed out expression. “Jesus Christ, Osita. You’re too fucking good at that. Holy shit. Lemme take care of-“ 

You held up your hand to stop him as you stood up, your gesture cutting off the rest of his sentence as you helped to pull up his jeans and boxers still resting along his thighs. “I’m allowed to give my hot ass boyfriend blowjobs without anything in return. C’mon, we better get downstairs before Steve walks in on us again.” You pressed up on your tiptoes, planting a quick kiss on Javi’s lips as he reached down to buckle his belt before the two of you tried your best to fix yourself up in the mirror to avoid the inevitable shit Steve was about to give the both of you. Giving Javi a quick nod in the mirror before turning off the light and heading out the door, he gave your ass a playful smack, making you squeal in surprise, making you turn on your heels. Resting his hand on his hip, he beamed at you, biting down on his lip. 

“Fuck, I love you.” 

“I know.” 

The Murphy’s living room had begun to pool with guests as you made your way down the stairs, looking for Steve and Connie amongst the crowd. You and Javi both grabbed a beer from the cooler at the bottom of the stairwell, quickly turning around as you heard Steve’s familiar twang approaching behind you. 

“Well I’ll be damned. You got this motherfucker in a costume? He must really love you.” Steve chuckled, shaking Javi by the shoulders. “And Star Wars too?! You asshole, how many times did I try to tell you they were good fuckin’ movies?! You shoulda dressed him up like Jabba the Hut.” You and Steve cackled as Javi rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, and what the fuck are you supposed to be? A sad pirate?” Javi jabbed, poking fun at Steve’s poorly put together costume. 

“Listen, Olivia and Abby both wanted to be the Little Mermaid, so we had two Ariel’s, Con was Ursula, Madison was the yellow fish and I didn’t wanna be that annoying ass crab, so pirate it was, asshole.” Steve retorted, punching at Javi’s arm, the two of them laughing at each other like little boys. “Alright, go enjoy yourselves lovebirds, I’ll see ya in a little bit. And Javi?”

“Yeah Murph?” 

“You really gotta start checkin’ your pants, buddy.” 

Javi’s cheeks turned red, his eyes darting down to his zipper, still all the way undone from your activities upstairs, the both of you grimacing at each other, sheepishly avoiding eye contact with Steve as he disappeared into the crowd. 

It really wasn’t a surprise to Javi how many friends the Murphy’s had already managed to make in their time since moving to San Antonio. Their house was quickly crowded with all sorts of people- Steve and Connie’s co-workers, neighbors, parents of friends Olivia and Abby had made at school, regardless of where the party goers were from, everyone had collectively agreed to make adult Halloween just as fun as any kids. You and Javi were having a great time catching up with Steve and Connie, as well as meeting some of their other close friends, one of Connie’s neighbors being an elementary school teacher, giving you two plenty to commiserate about from the hellish week it had been. It didn’t take long for the party to move outside, Steve drunkenly deciding that he needed to make a bonfire, despite adamant argument that with the amount of alcohol Steve had in his system, he was going to spontaneously combust if he got close enough to a flame. Javi, sober enough to still help his friend make rational decisions, was glad that Steve was happy to let him build the bonfire. 

“The force is strong with you, Han Solo.” You giggled, Javi wrapping his arm around your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss into your forehead as the two of you stared into the flickering orange glow of the fire pit. 

“Not strong enough to extinguish Steve if he got close enough to it. Hey, I got shit all over my hands, I’m gonna go to the bathroom and wash ‘em off. You need anything while I’m inside, Princess?” You smiled as you nudged Javi at the nickname he had been adamant about using since you had put on your costume. 

“I’m good, thank you. I’m gonna go wait over on the swingset so I don’t completely reek of bonfire later.” Javi nodded as he slid his hand down your back, giving your ass a quick squeeze before making his way through the crowd, heading towards the house. Surprised no one else had capitalized on the chance to sit down, you wandered over to the wooden playset at the corner of the Murphy’s backyard, taking a seat on one of the plastic swings, kicking your feet against the grass below. 

“Hey, there she is! How goes it, Leia?” Taking a few long strides through the yard, Steve was now quickly making his way over to you, stumbling over his own feet as he somehow managed to sit himself down on the swing next to you. You tried your best not to laugh at Steve’s drunken state, but his current antics weren’t making it very easy on you. 

“I could ask the same to you. You doin’ okay there, pirate?” 

“Fuck sweetheart, I’m doin’ fuckin’ great. Where’s the asshole?” 

“Inside, I’m sure he’ll be back out soon.” You snickered at Steve watching the beer dribble down his chin from the overly confident swig he had taken. 

“Good, I don’t need ‘em right now. You were the one I was lookin’ for.” Steve pointed in your general direction, but clearly wasn’t aware enough to hit his target head on. 

“Me?” You laughed, pointing back to yourself. 

“Yes, you. You talk to him yet?”

“About?” You paused, wondering if Steve had any inkling of the conversation you were planning to have earlier, or if he was drunkenly deciding you and Javi needed to discuss something else. 

“You know about what. I talked to Connie earlier. I figured I owed it to you to come talk to you about it, too.” 

Your heart began to race, that uncomfortable feeling once again beginning to churn in your stomach as you thought about the things you and Connie had discussed earlier. “Steve, you don’t owe me anything, I-” 

“No, I do. Hold on a second.” Steve turned away, letting out a hearty burp, pouding on his chest before facing back towards you. “Sorry, I’ve been holdin’ that in for like 10 minutes, I needed to let it out. Anyways… What was I sayin’? Oh shit, yeah, the grumpy bastard. Listen, sweetheart. I know it’s gonna fuckin’ suck,  but you gotta be the one to bring it up and talk to him about it. If I know anything about that motherfucker, it’s that he will bottle things up for way too fuckin’ long until someone gets it out of him. He’s a good guy. He says he’s not, but he is. Saved my ass more times than I can count. That job made us do some fucked up shit neither of us are fuckin’ proud of. But that doesn’t mean he gets to keep it from you. I swear to God, that asshole is so fuckin’ in love with you, it makes me sick. You make him so happy. He just doesn’t wanna fuck up the best thing that’s ever happened to him.” 

You weren’t sure if it was the right thing to do, but in that moment, all you could manage was to reach over to the swing next to you, pulling Steve in for a hug as you tried to keep your tears from staining his shirt. “Thanks, Steve.” You whispered, leaning back into your seat, using your sleeve to wipe the wetness from your cheeks. 

“I know you love him too. You deserve to know. Don’t let him be a stubborn jackass to you, okay? I’m bein’ serious. I should be the one thankin’ you though, honey. In all the years I’ve known him, I never thought I’d see ‘em this happy. I promise I won’t get this drunk at your wedding.” Steve winked, straining to push himself up out of the swing, somehow managing to catch his balance as he stumbled into the grass. 

“You do make a very inspirational drunk, Steve.” You laughed to yourself, looking up at him with a genuine smile. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome. Alright, enough sap, I’m gonna go get another fuckin’ beer, I’ll see ya around okay?” 

“Okay, maybe a water would be good for you, too.” 

“Water’s for pussies.” 

“Water’s good for people who don’t want raging hangovers tomorrow.” 

“Pirates are always drunk, so I’ll be fuckin’ fine.” 

“Whatever you say, Steve.” 

It didn’t take long for Javi to return, easily spotting his tall, broad body making his way through the crowd, beaming at you as he walked over to the swings. You tried your best to smile back at him with the uneasy pounding in your chest quickly building, feeling your heartbeat in your throat. “Hey, Hermosa. Sorry it took so long, I ended up stopping to get another drink on the-“ 

“Do- Javi, do you trust me?” 

Your words were quiet and blunt as they rolled off your tongue, your eyes peeled on your feet kicking through the grass beneath you. 

Javi’s brow immediately scrunched in confusion, completely off put by your question and demeanor. “Do I- Baby, what are you talking about? Of course I trust you? What’s going on?” Setting down his drink, he began making his way next to you in frantic, worried strides. 

“Then why won’t you talk to me about it?” Your eyes darted from the ground up to his, his sweet brown eyes swirling with confusion at the firm tone of your voice and desperation growing across your face. 

“Talk to you about what? Hermosa, what’s going on? Is everything ok-” 

“Why won’t you talk to me about Colombia?” 

 Javi took a step back. He wasn’t sure if it was out of defense, or absolute shock from the words that had just fallen out of your mouth. He stared at you for a moment, his jaw locking as you could see how hard he swallowed, trying to bide his time as he calculated his response. 

“Osita… It’s not that simple.” 

“That’s not an answer.” 

“I don’t understand why we’re talking about this. Baby, if this is because of last night, you don’t need to worry about me, can we please just drop it?” The two of you faced each other in an unspoken standoff, Javi’s hands now resting on his hips as you crossed your arms over your chest. You had tried so hard to be patient, but in the moment, it was like all of your frustration was beginning to boil over. 

“That’s exactly why we’re talking about this, Javi. Because I fucking worry about you. All the time. I’ve tried so hard to be patient. I’ve never, ever tried to get you to talk about it because I know it’s fucking hard. But last night, you’re up at 2 A.M, wandering around the apartment, and I’m begging you to tell me what’s wrong and you won’t fucking do it. I’m not an idiot, Javi. I can’t live in this weird in between space in your life where you pretend your past doesn’t exist when I know it still fucking haunts you. Why won’t you just talk to me about it?” 

Javi could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his palms sweating as they clenched in tight fists at his sides. He tried so desperately to find an answer, something, anything he could tell you to try and justify his choices. The choices he had kept from you. The choices he couldn’t forgive himself for. “Because, I- fuck- because, goddamnit, I just- I was a terrible fucking person, okay? The things I did, they were-” 

“What? Fucked up? Painful? Shitty? Of course they fucking were, Javi. You were literally in Colombia chasing down Pablo Fucking Escobar. What did you think I thought you were doing down there? Filing away paperwork? You don’t think I know that you did things you regret? That you’ve hurt people? Made choices that hurt innocent people who didn’t deserve it? I know Javi, I fucking know. I watched my brothers come back from the same goddamn thing. I tried so hard to give them space, to let them come to terms with the fucked up things they did on their own, and you know what fucking happened? One of them’s fucking dead because of it. I can’t let it happen again. I don’t care about what you did. It doesn’t make you a bad person. But you can’t try and hide it from me and pretend like it doesn’t exist. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you. But I can’t if you don’t trust me. Please trust me. Please. I love you so much, Javi. I can’t lose you.” 

Javi stood in silence, as the both of you fought the tears streaming down your cheeks. He wasn’t sure if he had just been hit in the gut with a giant sucker punch, or if the weight of the world had just been lifted off his shoulders. He truly didn’t know how to feel. He wasn’t even sure if he had heard you correctly. Did you really just tell him that you knew about the fucked up, terrible things he had done and that you didn’t care? That you still fucking loved him? All you wanted was for him to trust that you wanted to be there for him? He could feel his hands trembling and lip quivering as he tried to find the words to speak.

 “Osita… I- fuck, baby. Osita, I’m so sorry. I trust you with my fucking life. You- You don’t deserve to have to deal with with all the fucked up things I’ve done. I don’t wanna scare you away, baby. You’re the best thing that’s ever fucking happened to me and I was so terrified if you found out about the terrible person I used to be, you’d leave. It’s not fair to you, I can’t expect you to carry the weight of all the fucking things I’ve done, too. I’m so sorry.” Quietly, Javi sat down next to you on the empty swing, burying his hands in his face. Gently, you reached over, pulling his hands away, forcing him to look at you. 

“Whatever you tell me isn’t gonna scare me away. I promise. The only thing that’s gonna scare me is when you try to pretend you’re okay when you’re not. Javi… Javi, I just- I just wanna be there for you. I don’t want you to have to do it alone. I’d do anything for you. I trust you more than anyone. You’re my best friend. I just- fuck- I just want you to trust that I’ll always be there for you to. I promise.” 

And just like that, the last brick holding up the wall between you and Javier Peña collapsed. There was nothing left to run from. Nothing left to hide. After he returned home, he was a changed man. He had hated the person he had become. Maybe there was a part of him that didn’t want to be loved, because he didn’t believe that he deserved to be. But then, there was you. 

You. 

You had taken everything he had known and changed his life for the better. You had become his better half, the person he loved more than anyone in the world. You had proved he was worthy of more than just existing- you had proved to Javi that he was worth the love and happiness you had promised him from the moment you had come into his life and made it worth living for. 

“You promise?” 

“I promise. Always.” 

The way Javi grabbed you and wrapped you in his arms, grasping at the back of your shirt as he pulled you in tighter, feeling the hot breath of his silent sobs against your shoulder told you everything you needed to know. You didn’t know much, but if there was one thing you did know, it was that you loved Javier Peña more than life itself. As quickly as it had felt like your life had fallen apart, he had come into it and picked up the broken pieces to put it back together. And on an October night in San Antonio, sitting on an old wooden swing set in the Murphy’s backyard, you hoped that Javi knew that you would always be there to pick up the shattered parts of his past, too. 

You weren’t sure how many hours had passed as you sat hand in hand in the swings with Javi as you listened to anything and everything he had to say. Long after the backyard was empty, and the bonfire had faded to embers and ashes, and the only one left awake besides the two of you was Connie, trying to drag Steve back inside from the plastic lawn chair he had passed out on, you finally made your way up to bed for the best sleep the two of you had in a very, very long time. Your goodbyes to the Murphy’s had been short and sweet- Connie exhausted from the late night, and Steve barley coherent from how hungover he was, you were still both so thankful the two of you had made the journey out to see them, and the both of you, just as grateful for the sweet and supportive life long friends you knew the Murphy’s would become. Most of your drive back to Laredo was spent in a comfortable silence, the golden sunrise spilling through the windows of Javi’s truck as you cruised down the highway, Javi’s hand never leaving yours, your fingers intertwined together as his thumb gently rubbed against your soft skin and your head rested against his broad shoulder. 

“How are you feeling about seeing your mom today?” You asked, lightly squeezing his arm as you smiled up at him, now exiting off the freeway quickly approaching the cemetery where you planned to meet Chucho to celebrate Día De Los Muertos, trying your best to comfort Javi as he prepared to see his mom’s gravesite for the first time since her funeral almost a decade ago. Javi let out a quiet sigh, his grip tightening just a little tighter around your hand as he looked over at you, a surprisingly calm look flooding his face. 

“I’m actually doing okay. Better than I would have thought. I think I was always so worried that she wouldn’t be proud of me and the man I’d become after she was gone. I um- I finally think that she’d be proud of me now.” He glanced over at you, his smile soft and tender as he soaked in the reason for his pride sitting right beside him. 

You noticed Chucho’s truck as you pulled up to park along the edge of the small cemetery, Chucho excitedly waving you down as you both hopped out of the car. Walking around to Javi, you were quick to grab his hand, giving him a reassuring grip as the two of you made your way through the gravestones along the thin cobblestone path towards Chucho, already arranging the items he had collected for Lucia’s ofrenda. 

“Hola, niños.” Chucho grinned, wrapping his arms around the both of you. “I’m so glad you’re here.” 

“Thanks for letting me be a part of today, Chucho. I know… Well, I just- I’m really honored to- just, thank you.” Chucho wasted no time pulling you into your own hug, his rough and worn hands holding you by the shoulders as he looked at you with misty eyes. 

“Mija, I should be thanking you. If it wasn’t for you, I don’t know if we would all be here today. Lucia’s last wish to me was that I would promise to make sure Javier was happy. Now hija, I think my sweet Lucia can rest a little easier knowing someone else has already fulfilled my promise for me.” As the two of you spoke, you hadn’t noticed as Javi had quietly stepped over to his mother’s gravestone, crouching next to it, his fingers delicately tracing along the engraved letters of her name, his other hand holding one of the marigold flowers Chucho had brought with him. The two of you watched quietly as Javi sat next to his mom, gently placing the flower on the shiny stone as he spoke. 

“Hola, mamá. Te extrañé. Siento haber tarado tanto.” (Hi mom. I missed you. I’m sorry I took so long). Javi’s voice trembled as he took a deep breath in, slowly exhaling as his hand rested on the stone, warm from the sun, shining brightly in the blue November sky. “Que estaba asustada de de verte porque estaba orgullosala de la persona en la que me había convertido. Que no quería decepcionarte. Tenía miedo mucho, mamá. Me sentí como si todo se derrumbase. solo quería olvidar. Pero entonces…” (I was scared to see you because I wasn’t proud of the person I’d become. I didn’t want to disappoint you. I was so scared, mom. I felt like I let everyone down. I just wanted to forget. But then…).  Javi turned his head, seeing you and Chucho, arm in arm, a smile growing across his face as looked back at the two people in life he loved the most. He took an extra moment to stare at you and the soft grin spread between your cheeks, basking in the comfort and warmth of the woman who had forever changed his life for the better. “Pero entonces, mamá, La conocí. Que es perfecta. Nunca supe que podías amar tanto a alguien. Ella es lo mejor que me ha pasado. La habrías amado.ella es una maestra, tambien.  A veces me pregunto qué ve en mí. No sé qué hice para merecerse. voy a pedirle que se case conmigo.Cuidaré bien de ella. Ella se merece todo lo que le pueda dar y más. Espero que estés orgulloso de mí, mamá. te echo mucho, Pero le juro a usted, al fin soy feliz. Te amo, mamá.”  (But then, mom, I met her. She is perfect. I never knew you could love someone so much. She is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You would have loved her. She’s a teacher too. Sometimes, I wonder what she sees in me. I don’t know what I did to deserve her. I’m gonna ask her to marry me. I’m gonna take such good care of her. She deserves everything I can give her and more. I hope you’re proud of me, mamá. I miss you so much, but I promise you, I’m finally happy. I love you, mom.) 

With a gentle nudge from Chucho, you softly stepped behind Javi, gently placing your hands on his shoulders before he rose up and you wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head against his chest as he wiped away the tears welling behind his eyes. Staring down at Lucia’s gravestone, Javi ran his hand through your hair, carefully planting a kiss against your head and burying his nose in the soft waves of your hair. 

“I wish I would have had the chance to have met you, Mrs. Peña. I would have had someone else to commensurate with over all of the crazy teaching stories I’m sure the both of us have. Maria, Estelle and Linda all miss you a lot too, but I’m sure they haven’t changed a bit. Thanks for raising such a good son. I don’t know what I would do without him. I know he says that he doesn’t know what he did to deserve me, but I really think it should be the other way around. I promise I’ll look out for him.” You tried your best to smile through your soft sobs, looking up at Javi, tears streaming down his wet cheeks. It wasn’t long before Chucho had snuck up behind you, patting each of you on the back before smiling down at Lucia, too. 

“Estos dos están tan enamorados, Lucia. Tal vez más que tú y yo. Ella es una buena chica. Estoy muy contenta de que ella sea parte de nuestra familia. Finalmente tendremos a nuestros nietos, también.”  (These two are so in love, Lucia. Maybe even more than you and I. She is a great girl. I am so happy she is a part of our family. We are finally going to get our grandchildren, too). Chucho winked, nudging Javi in the side, forcing him to laugh through his tears, shaking his head at his dad’s comment. “Now, no more tears, you two. This is a happy day. Your mamá is smiling down on you, and I can almost hear here scolding me to keep you from crying anymore. C’mon, let’s decorate and eat, I even brought pozole.” 

The three of you spent the next hour decorating Lucia’s grave with bright orange and gold cempazuchitl (marigold flowers) and little Calaveras (sugar skulls) painted in bold colors and refined details, sharing and laughing about Javi’s favorite memories of his mother while snacking on the Pozole Chucho had brought to share. For the first time in a long time, Javi no longer felt guilt and grief when he thought about his mom- her memory filled him with love and joy. He wasn’t the same bitter, broken man he was when he had said his final goodbyes to his mother all those years ago. While he wished he could change the past, the reality of the present, and his future finally brought him peace, knowing he could be proud of the man he had become, thanks to you. 

As Javi helped Chucho to clean up the extra flowers and decorations he had brought, you couldn’t help yourself from reaching at the wrinkled photo you had shoved in your pocket as you had packed up to leave from the Murphy’s this morning. You carefully took it out, holding it gently in your hands as you tried to uncrinkle the edges. “You ready, Hermosa?” Javi called out, now a few steps ahead of you, making his way back towards the truck. “Hermosa?” He asked again, thinking perhaps you hadn’t heard him the first time. When he was greeted by silence again, he looked back to see you staring at the crumpled photo in your hands. 

“I um- I know that he isn’t buried here, and uh, if you don’t want me to, it’s okay- but um- is it, is it alright if I leave a couple flowers for Patrick?” You sniffed, a tear dropping down on the photo of the two of you, Patrick holding you in a headlock as you laughed with a wide, toothy grin, drowning in one of his old Blackhawks jerseys that you were so excited to wear because it belonged to him. 

“Of course, Osita. Of course it is.” Javi smiled at you softly, turning back around with the tub of leftover decorations, making his way towards you. Quietly, you walked back over to Lucia’s gravestone, carefully setting down the picture of you and Patrick next to it, putting a few marigolds over top of it so it stayed pinned in place from the warm breeze. 

“I miss you, asshole. You deserved so much better. I hope you don’t still think that I hate you. I mean, I do, but you know what I mean. Honestly, you were lucky you didn’t have to live through the Blackhawks losing in the playoffs this year, that fucking sucked. Mom and Dad and Charlie and David all miss you too. I finally went back home to see them. It still wasn’t the same without you there, but I know you don’t hurt anymore. I hope that you don’t hurt anymore. I love you, Patrick. Crack open a cold one up there for me, okay?” Trying your best to not to uncontrollably sob, you sniffled, wiping the tears running down your face as you leaned your head against Javi’s chest. He ran his hand along your back as he held you tighter, letting you take a moment to get everything out before you took a deep breath, nodding your head as if to signify to Javi and yourself that you were okay. 

“You okay, Osita? We can take all the time you need, baby.” Javi whispered, pressing a gentle kiss into your shoulder. 

“No, I’m okay. I just- I wanted to do something for him, too. Thanks, Javi. I love you.” 

“I know.” 

After several more long hugs goodbye with Chucho, you and Javi began your journey back home, marveling at the beautiful sunset, painting the sky with bright pinks and oranges and the warmth and comfort of Lucia and Patrick’s presence. You were so lost in thought staring out at the fading sky, you hadn’t even noticed that Javi had detoured from your usual route home until he had said something to you. “You okay if we make a quick pit stop on the way home, Osita?” You nodded, smiling at the golden glow covering his face. It wasn’t long until you were veering off the main road, Javi turning to make his way down a tree lined gravel pathway with a “For Sale” sign posted in front of it. 

“For sale?” You questioned, looking over at Javi before peering out your window to watch the trees lining the path pass by you as the gravel crunched under the truck’s tires.

“Yeah, uh- I was talking with Steve at the party yesterday and he- uh, one of his buddies said he was looking to get out of the city- wanted a plot of land to build on. Said he had heard good things about Laredo but didn’t have time to go check things out for himself, so I told him I would go take a look around and let Steve know what I thought.” Javi replied, trying his best to sound nonchalant as you shrugged before looking back out the window. As you reached the end of the path, the trees opened to reveal a beautiful, lush green field, the sun setting perfectly along the rolling hills of the horizon in front of you. Turning off the ignition, Javi gestured for the both of you to get out of the truck so you could go take a look around. 

“Jav… This is beautiful.” You marveld, grinning as you took in the beauty of the open space drenched in golden sunset. 

“You like it?” Javi grinned, laughing as you spun around, the gentle breeze blowing your hair in and out of your face. 

“Oh my God, yeah. Tell Steve’s friend to get on this place ASAP before I scrounge up every penny I have and sell one of my kidneys on the black market to buy it from him. There doesn’t even need to be a house, I’ll just lay in the empty field, perfectly content.” You giggled, letting out a happy sigh as you grabbed Javi’s hand, leaning your head against his arm as you admired the sun slipping away below the horizon. 

“I’ll take that as a yes then. He said he’s wanting to build a house here, do you think- do you think that he would think it’s got enough space? It’s not too far from everything? I know it’s a little farther from downtown and a longer drive to work- if uh, if he works by where we do, you don’t think that’d be a problem? For him?” Javi squeezed back, trying his best not to stumble over his words. 

“Are you kidding me? It’s literally perfect out here, Javi. Could you imagine getting to see this every night? He better put some big windows on this house so he can get all of the sunlight, oh my god, it would be so pretty. It’s not even that far from everything, and the view makes the extra drive time worth every minute. I know it’s probably a far way off, and we haven’t really talked about it, but I would love to live at a place like this someday.” 

Javi smiled to himself, looking down at you as you rested against him, soaking in every ounce of you as he shifted his arm to wrap around your waist, gently rubbing his thumb along the soft hem of your shirt before letting out a content sigh. 

“Yeah. Me too.”

Taglist: @cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @blackfemalenerd

[pasc4lfuzz]

me vuelves loco

pairing: javier peña x f!reader a/n: i've tried writing before, but every time i've tried and even posted, i've deleted it after less than a week because i didn't like what i'd written. I don't know if I'll regret this one-shot after a while and end up deleting it, but I hope you like it. ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE!!!! summary: During the DEA New Year's party in colombia javi can't take his eyes off you. rating: MATURE! MDNI warnings: flirting, heavy make out, alcohool, remembering sex (i think this would be the right term lol) word count: 3.5k dividers by @/saradika-graphics

December 31st and you and the DEA still haven't caught Pablo Escobar, and so goes another year of hard work, always getting close to the goal but never quite finishing. As always, on New Year's Eve, the DEA throws a party for its employees. Last year you didn't feel like going, you preferred to stay at home, you, a bottle of wine, a plate of pasta alfredo and the TV on. 

You were immersed in your own thoughts for a long time as you sipped your wine, reminiscing about everything you did last year, especially your mistakes, how many times you and your partners were close to catching the head of the cartel and something went wrong, taking you back to the beginning. But that didn't even come close to occupying your mind during the night, definitely not, in your head there was only Javier Peña, that man with the broad shoulders and slutty waist, the way his thight jeans hugged his legs and ass, the cheesy grin he did when he hears the sound of your heels through the office. But surely one of your biggest mistakes - or the one you try to convince yourself was a mistake - was having sex with Javier. You didn't want to be another notch on his belt, but (un)fortunately you ended up giving in, but how could you not? 

That night you were going over some files with Javi in his apartment, glasses of whiskey on the coffee table, some papers lying on the sofa and on the floor, Javis eyes every few minutes on you, admiring you, flirting with you until you couldn't stand it. Suddenly you remember Javier's lips where in yours kissing you hungrily, his tongue searching for yours while their hands stroked from your waist to your ass and their hands tugged at your hair. You remember everything down to the smallest detail, the way he kissed your whole body, the feeling of his tongue flicking your clit, he tasting your pussy like a starving man. The weight of his body on top of yours and how your inner walls hugged his cock in every thrust, his groans and whispers praising you were echoing in your mind, and you realize, you've got it bad for Javier Fucking Peña.

So this year you've decided to go to the party, maybe you'll meet someone important there, get more contacts to help with Escobar's case. Work, work, work, that's all there was to your life lately, stressing you to the limit many times, you saw things and situations you'd never forget, but in the end you told yourself the same thing, in the end I'll have helped a lot of people, and that's all you wanted. As well as thinking that going to the party will help you at work, a week earlier Connie Murphy was at your apartment, your partner Steve's wife met you by chance in the building that the DEA had made available to the agents when you were coming home from work with Steve and Javi, and since then you've become friends. 1 week ago, the night Connie came to your apartment to have dinner and talk, she mentioned the party and said she was going with Steve and asked you if you were going.

"I don't know Con, I was thinking of going but... it's not really my scene" You say sighing and throwing your head back on the sofa, wiping your hands across your face "Maybe there I'll be able to talk more to some people from the Embassy and-" You're interrupted by Connie waving her hands and starting to talk.

"No, no, no, that's enough work talk and work thinking" Connie puts her hand on his shoulder, making him look at her "You work too much, you put all your time and effort into the DEA, I understand that it's supposed to end all this madness once and for all, but I think it's best if you give it a rest, you know." 

Her gaze gradually calms you down, your shoulders relax and your posture is no longer rigid from all the stress you've been going through lately.

"Think of this party as an escape from your problems, there won't be any narcs there for you to worry about, and I'll be there too," Connie says winking in your direction, eliciting a huffy laugh that shakes your head.

"Yeah, I'll go, at least I don't have to drink my own wine" You shrug letting out a sly smile.

The atmosphere in the main hall where most people were meeting is buzzing with energy and excitement. The vast space is adorned with shimmering decorations, exuding a bit sense of luxury, besides this was a DEA party, some colombian politicians were there making presence. Soft, warm lights bathe the room in a flattering glow, casting a sophisticated aura over the gathering. Lively conversations fill the air, complemented by the soft tones of a electric guitar, bass and a woman singing beautifully playing in the background. You're wearing a pearly white satin dress that goes all the way down to your heels, your make-up is simple but your lips are a deep red.

You pass some of your coworkers doing a fast small talk in pursuit of your goal of getting to the bar counter. There are at least 3 people in charge of making the drinks and preparing the drinks that are ordered, you give a friendly smile to the man who approaches you on the other side of the counter asking if you would like anything. You quickly look at the drinks menu and order a Cosmopolitan. 

This isn't one of the best scenarios you could imagine yourself in, you barely enjoy going out for a happy hour after long hours at work, let alone a New Year's Eve party with almost everyone you've worked with. You blame Connie, who, by the way, you haven't seen until now, while your eyes slowly wander around the room watching the others chatting and smiling. One of your favorite pastimes is:

observing.

Many times have you found yourself late at night when you couldn't sleep at your window, feeling the soft caress of a refreshing breeze that carries a subtle hint of the surrounding nature. The gentle touch of the air eases the sticky, humid air that normally hangs heavily in the Colombian nights, providing a respite from the tropical heat that characterizes this part of the world. Colombia wasn't a city that never sleeps like New York or a night city like Los Angeles, but there was a bit of movement at night, and you love watching people pass by and guessing where they're going, who they're meeting or how their day went. And now it's no different.

You're immersed in your thoughts, your attention going from person to person analyzing their features and posture, some with fake smiles just to please the rest around them, others very excited about the turn of the year with a fresh start, and a good number of the people you work with exhausted, just wanting this drug war to end.

Your trance is interrupted when you hear a familiar voice in your ear.

You knew that voice very well.

A voice that sends your heart racing and your spine tingling with anticipation.

It's Javier, his voice velvety, sultry, and more than enough to send shivers down your spine, awakening a deep sense of longing that you find both thrilling.

“Hermosa, I didn't expect to see you here” 

You turn your head to the right and see Javier Penan, leaning slightly with his right arm on the counter, with that smirk in his face that drives you crazy- NO!

You hate it.

“Peña.” You give him a slight nod and pick up your Cosmopolitan, which should have been sitting there for at least two minutes while you paid attention to your surroundings. 

You feel Javier's gaze travel slowly from the top of your head to the tips of your toes, as if he were taking in every aspect of you. His eyes travel with an almost tangible intensity, like a physical caress on your features. You can practically feel the way his gaze follows the outline of your hair, pauses to appreciate the shape of your face and then moves down, lingering on the curves and lines of your body. The way he looks at you is almost hypnotic, as if he's trying to memorize every inch of you.

“You look stunning,” he says, and you feel your heart skip a beat as his eyes meet yours once again. Those warm, brown puppy dog eyes that you had thought could see right through your soul.

You feel exposed, laid bare under his gaze, like a book open for inspection. There's a spark of mischief in his eyes, as though he's enjoying the effect he's having on you, and he leans in a bit closer, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

“You don't look so bad yourself,” I reply, quickly looking him up and down. The suit he's wearing hugs his body perfectly, emphasizing the broadness of his shoulders, and making it hard not to appreciate the way it shows off his physique. I can see the strength in his frame, the way his shoulders bunch up as he rolls them back, and the way the fabric stretches over the muscles of his arms. My eyes dart back up to his face, where his mouth curves into a small, wry smile, the look in his eyes almost smug.

“Like what you see?” Javier winks at you and you take a big sip of your drink, breaking eye contact.

“you wish” I roll my eyes placing the drink down ”have you seen Connie?”

“Hm yeah she’s actually with Steve talking with Noonan” He points to his partner and his wife talking with the ambassador.

“Excuse me Peña.” You say walking away from him, you can feel his eyes glued in your ass, watching the way your hips sway as you walk through the room.

As the night wore on,you were engaged in a conversation with Connie and started to question your decision to listen to her.

"Connie, I think I'm leaving now," you said, finishing the last sip of your drink as your eyes scanned the room.

She gasped, clearly not believing what you were saying. "No, no, no! We discussed this already. If you leave, you'll be all alone on New Year's," she exclaimed.

You nodded, replying, "That's exactly what I had planned, just like last year."

“No, come on stay for me, soon Steve is gonna start getting sleepy and i would get bored” Connie waits for your response.

You close your eyes taking a deep breath before answering a simple “Fine” and Connie smiles at you.

“I’ll get you another Cosmopolitan” Connie leaves towards the bar to get you the drink she promised.

As you patiently wait for your friend and your drink, you couldn't help but take another look around the room. This time, you noticed something you hadn't before - a nearly closed door. Intrigued, you couldn't resist exploring further, walking towards the door and gently pushing it open.

Behind the door, you found yourself in a cozy little library, filled with books and the faint scent of old paper. As you walked along the shelves, your eyes scanned over various titles until something caught your attention - your favorite book.

There it was, standing out among the others, and your heart skipped a beat out of excitement. You eagerly pulled it out from the shelf and held it in your hands, feeling a sense of comfort and nostalgia wash over you.

“That’s a good one.” A voice behind you echoes through your mind, of course it's Javier.

You turn around looking at him trying to hide your emotions from the guy that little by little was stealing your heart, and that scared you. You shouldn't feel that way about him, you know very well that Javier Peña doesn't do relationships.

“Didn’t know you read.” You say sarcastically putting the book back in its place.

“Oh please, I know I'm not the most intelligent man but sometimes I read.” He says while slowly walking towards you, it’s like your body is calling him.

"Anyways, it's a classic, of course it's good," you say with a hint of excitement. Without realizing it, you start to passionately ramble about the book, your words flowing effortlessly as you speak.

"I mean, just the way the author captures the essence of the characters' development throughout the story, the way the plot unfolds, the way the conflict is resolved - it's all so brilliantly done. And don't even get me started on the writing style!" As you finally finish your passionate ramble about the book, you suddenly notice Javier's gaze fixed on you, almost as if it was burning through your skin.

"Why did you stop?" he asked, taking a few steps closer, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I…” You can’t trust your own words at this point, afraid you’ll say something that will fell wrong.

A shiver ran down your spine as Javier spoke in a low, sultry tone, his words sending a warm sensation coursing through your body.

"I don't think you realize this," he continued, his voice dropping even lower, "but you literally become ten times sexier when you talk about books."

“Stop right there Peña” You put your index finger in his chest “I know where you tryna get from this, and im not ending up in your bed” 

“Hermosa” Your heart skipped a beat as Javier pulled you closer, your bodies now touching, his whiskey breath hot against your face. "Believe me," he murmured, his voice dropping to an even huskier tone, "I'm not just trying to get you in my bed. You might not believe this, but I really like you."

A wave of heat washed over you as you looked up into his eyes, wondering if there was more to  his words than just a line. And he was right, you didn’t believe him at all.

“Doesn’t seem like it” You murmur

Javier's gaze deepened as he looked into your eyes, his voice still carrying that sultry undertone. "I like the way you prefer tea over coffee," he began, the words coming out slowly and intentionally, "and how you always drink your jasmine tea in our office. The smell of it wafts through the room, constantly reminding me of you. And your laughter, it sounds like a 5-year-old's - innocent and carefree. But it brings a smile to my face every single time I hear it."

As you giggled and shyly looked away listening to him list the things he liked in you, Javier's smirk widened, his fingers gently catching your chin and turning your face back to him.

"Yes, that's the laugh," he repeated, a hint of amusement in his voice, "the one I was talking about. It's infectious, you know."

Your eyes get lost in his, it’s almost like you can see and learn everything about him just by looking at his brown chocolate eyes. Javier's lips left a trail of gentle pecks on your cheeks, while his words echoed in your ears, sending a surge of heat through your body.

"I like it when you let your hair down," he murmured, "but I also like it when you tie it. I like it when you speak in Spanish," another kiss on your other cheek, "and most of all, I love the way you talk about the things you love."

As his lips hovered millimeters away from yours, leaving you yearning for more, you couldn't resist any longer.

The moment your lips met, an explosion of sensation took over. It was a hungry and passionate kiss, filled with months of built up tension and desire. Your grip on Javier's neck tightened as you pulled him closer, your bodies pressing against each other. His hands found their way to your hips, holding you tight as the kiss deepened. Tongues danced in a greedy, desperate dance, exploring each other's mouths as if trying to devour one another.

It was like an explosion of feelings all together, you felt like your heart could jump out of your chest at any minute. 

Sure you’ve already shared a few kisses with him, but it was always with a second intention, just like that one night you never forget. But this is different, the kiss was slow and deliberate, every movement filled with emotion and desire. Your lips moved in tandem with each other, exploring every inch of the other's mouth. A soft moan escaped your lips as Javier's tongue traced along your lower lip, seeking entrance. You granted it willingly, allowing him to plunge deeper into the recesses of your mouth. The kiss was hungry, but it was also tender, a perfect blend of love and excitement.

You feel your back against one of the bookcases as Javier kisses you more and more. Your hands pull his hair and massage his broad shoulders.

As you pulled your head back, gasping for air, Javier instinctively tried to chase your lips, unwilling to break the connection. He opened his eyes and couldn't help but let out a low growl at the sight of you biting your bottom lip, your eyes still closed in the aftermath of the passionate kiss.

As you opened your eyes and caught sight of his smile, something in your heart flipped, and you knew you were in too deep. "I believe you," you whispered, holding his face gently in your hands, your thumbs gently caressing his jaw.

"But if you really want this," you continued, your voice firm yet tinged with a hint of vulnerability, "you have to try not to mess things up. I'm willing to give you a chance, but I need you to promise me you'll be careful with my heart."

Javier's smile widened even further as you spoke, his heart swelling with a mixture of relief and affection. He leaned into your touch, savoring the feel of your thumbs caressing his jaw, and he nodded in agreement.

"Don't worry, hermosa," he murmured, his voice softer and more genuine than you had ever heard it before. "I won't mess this up, I promise. I'm all in."

Without missing a beat, your lips crashed into each other once more, the passion and intensity of the moment taking over. The world around you faded away as you both become lost in the kiss, the hunger for each other growing stronger with each passing second.

As the kiss deepened, you found yourself pressed up against the shelf, Javier's body pinning you against it as his hands roamed over your body, touching every inch of exposed skin. His lips moved from your mouth to your neck, leaving a trail of hot, hungry kisses along the sensitive flesh. Your bodies instinctively moved closer, creating a delicious friction that sent waves of desire coursing through you. The kiss grew more intense, full of passion and need, as your hands became tangled in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer.

As your fingers tangled in his hair and he continued to kiss and bite at your neck, an unexpected moan escaped your lips. You tried to bite your lip to hold it back, but the sensation of his lips against your skin was too overwhelming to contain. This only fueled Javier's desire, and he let out a low growl in response, one hand on your hips and the other one on you inner thigh pulling your right leg up to his waist.

A shiver ran down your spine as Javier's breath tickled your ear, his hot whispered words sending a thrill of pleasure through your body. "I forgot one thing," he murmured, his teeth gently biting down on your sensitive earlobe. "I love when you moan for me."

His body was still pressed against you, pinning you to the wall, and you could feel the effect your moan had on him, the tension and desire in the air palpable.

Just as Javier's lips were about to descend onto yours once more, the sound of an unwelcome voice called your name, breaking the spell. You both froze as the door handle turned, the wood moving just a fraction before it swung open.

Connie stood in the doorway, her eyes widening in surprise as she took in the scene before her.

"What are you doing - oh my god," she gasped, quickly shutting the door again.

Javier takes a few steps back running his hand through his hair as you smoothed your dress. “Connie?” you ask behind the door and open it seeing her holding your drink. “I… I took a little longer to grab your drink and then i was gonna hand it to you but you weren’t there anymore so i looked for you and-” She spoke nervously trying to process the moment she had just seen. “Ok hm thanks for it by the way” you grab the drink from her hands taking a sip before looking quickly at Javier.

“It’s almost midnight by the way” Connie says leaving the library.

You felt a pair of warm, strong hands gently gripping your waist from behind. Javier's hot breath sent a shiver down your spine as he leaned in close, his lips ghosting over the sensitive flesh of your neck.

"Come on, I want another reason to kiss you," he murmured, his voice low and seductive.

[evenmyhivemindisempty]

how nice are they to waitstaff?

Steve Murphy: He’s curt, but not rude. He just doesn’t wanna make chitchat. He tips 18% every time, almost no exceptions. He doesn’t make any modifications to the food, but he will send back his order if it’s wrong. He’s the “they asked for no pickles” kinda guy. So is Connie. So is Javi. In fact, the three of them are almost entirely identical in this department except Javi will flirt with the waiter.

Donald Pierce: He mostly ignores them. He doesn’t engage with the pleasantries unless he’s in a really good mood (in which case he’s gonna be so chatty), and there’s a good chance he might not even make eye contact when giving his order. He will totally ask for special modifications to the food and be a little surly if they won’t do it. He either tips decently well or doesn’t tip at all. He’s more likely to tip generously for a sweet, shy waitress, sometimes a waiter.

Cap Hatfield: He’s very polite! He orders exactly what’s on the menu, doesn’t particularly mind if service is slow, or even if his food isn’t exactly what he ordered, although he’ll speak up for someone else. He… didn’t really know tipping was a thing for a while. But now he tips 20% every time!

Clement Mansell: He’s either very nice and charming or very rude! He’s picky, and he’s not shy about sharing his thoughts about bad food or service, but he’ll also profusely compliment meals and drinks he enjoyed. Tips extremely generously or throws a handful of change on the check. Sometimes dines and dashes. He also often makes the waiters a captive audience while he goes off on some tangent about music. The worst part is it IS interesting, but they’ve got a job to do, Clement!

The Corinthian: He’s polite, and he’s easy to upsell to (why yes, he DOES want another side! A drink sounds wonderful! Dessert would be perfect! A cappuccino? Yes, please!). That being said, he’s got no issues being flirtatious with the wait staff, even if it makes them a little uncomfortable. If he’s displeased with his meal he’ll sometimes sort of… hum in a reproachful, disapproving way that’s extremely creepy. He generally tips very well.

Eli Klaber: Oh, he’s very nice. He’s very enthusiastic about the whole experience, and it’s really not hard to impress him with food. He’ll like almost anything that’s put in front of him. He tips decently, but never overly generously, but in the grand scheme of things he’s a very easy patron.

Danny Maguire: He’s definitely impatient and entitled, and he can be pretty outright rude, especially if he goes in already in a bad mood. If they give him attitude back, 50/50 that he retreats into a surly silence of surrender or causes a scene. That being said, if he’s with someone he’s trying to impress, he’s actually such a good boy, and often weirdly very subdued. Can they order for him? Can they mention that he asked for no pickles?

Ty Shaw: Aw, he’s lovely. He’s always very enthusiastic and friendly, and he doesn’t correct for a wrong order - it’s exciting! Something new and different! An incorrectly placed order was how he discovered his love for baingan bharta! He absolutely will speak up for someone else though, but he’s extremely sweet about it.

Quinn McKenna: Quinn’s kind of picky, which can seem dickish paired with his usual bluntness. He thinks 15% is a perfectly good tip. 20% is for excellent service that goes above and beyond, Emily.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

you in my eyes [4] l Javier Peña

Summary:  you weren't friends and you certainly weren't planning anything more together

Warnings:  angst, enemies (?) to lovers, misogyny and sexism at work, some bad language, sexual innuendo, Murphy shows up, alcohol, a guy says nasty things about a woman, mentioning marital infidelity, some blood, physical violence, concealing an incident of violence

A/N: I think that after this chapter, those few people who read this may have mixed feelings. I get it, I had them too. However, I wanted to put myself in Reader's place and situation, and unfortunately such things happened and still happen. Remember - it's just a story. If you are in a similar situation - report it and take care of your safety. However, I hope that in the next chapter (5) I will be able to give them some better moments, they deserve it. of course, I will be grateful for any feedback from you. a fragile and uncertain part of my heart needs it.

your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

[previous chapter]

[masterlist]

The next few days were pure chaos. After O'Connell received a call from headquarters and a sharp reprimand from his superior, he made sure everyone stayed busy. Javier and Murphy quickly got on with their work, trying to stay out of O'Connell and Messina's way.

"He cut himself shaving," Steve muttered as the man passed them in the hallway one morning without a word.

"What?" Peña looked up, clearly distracted.

"He cut himself shaving," Steve repeated, pointing to the small bandage on the back of Peter's neck. "I heard him tell a couple of the guys that were smoking outside the office this morning."

"I don't give a damn," Javier muttered. "He's a pain in the ass after that last action. It pisses him off even more that she was the one who tried to stop him."

"And that mole. Do you think they'll find him? Who could it be?"

Javier shrugged. He had his job to do and didn't feel like playing at finding a mole in the office right now. They passed another open room and Peña involuntarily glanced at your desk. Everything was perfectly organized on it, except for a few files that someone had left for you to read.

"She's still gone?" Steve could clearly read his mind. "Three days?"

"Four." Javier corrected him involuntarily.

"Did she say anything?"

"She rarely says anything."

Murphy looked at his friend. He had never seen him pay attention to someone's absence from work before. "She's a good agent," he finally said. "She saved our asses."

Peña's brown eyes landed on his friend, he nodded. "Just don't tell that to O'Connell."

When he saw you in one of the pubs that muggy evening two days later, he almost felt relief. Javier’s watchful eyes immediately noticed a familiar silhouette. The black dress hugged your body, and when he approached you, he saw that you were already tipsy.

"You weren't at work." he said, nodded to the bartender, and after a moment, he too was given a glass of whiskey.

"Were you worried?" you smiled mockingly. "I was sick."

"Sick?" he repeated.

Instinct, however, wouldn't let him rest. Something about it didn't sit right with him. He saw how uncomfortable you felt when he was next to you, and your gaze wandered around the room as if you were looking for someone.

"Look at me."

His voice was clear, he knew you heard it but decided to ignore it. That's why he gently grabbed your chin and turned your face towards him.

He swallowed before speaking again. "Who did this?"

The lipstick didn't hide your healing lip, and the remnants of the bruise on your face were still visible. You could feel Javier's gaze scanning your body. A few more bruises on your arm. What could be hidden under the dress?

"Who did this?" he repeated a little more sharply. "One of them?" he nodded towards the men who were watching you. Peña knew one of these guys, you had gone out together one evening.

You finished your drink. "Leave it." you mumbled.

He leaned towards you, you could clearly smell his cologne mixed with cigarette smoke. "How am I supposed to leave it, huh? You disappear for a few days, and now I see this. I need answers."

"You won't get them from me." you hissed. "Why do you care? We're not even friends."

He clenched his jaw. Exactly, why did he even care? Maybe because you were a woman? Maybe because you had helped him so many times, completely uninterested? Maybe he felt guilty? Or maybe he just liked you, in his own way?

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that the man who had been watching the two of you had moved. He slowly walked towards you and Javier knew that he had no arguments for you to stay with him.

"Doll, shall we go?" he mumbled as he approached you.

Fuck, you were drunk. Your legs buckled under you as you stood up from the chair and if Javier hadn't grabbed you, you would have landed on the floor.

"I'll take you home." he said, but you shook your head.

"Everything's fine." you replied and your companion grabbed your arm.

Peña watched as you struggled to take the next steps and he felt that he should react. But you were a grown woman, you made your own decisions and if he interfered you could have broken his nose. 

But at that moment his blood froze. The man who was leading you nodded to another one, and he stood up with a smile and was already at your side. You probably didn't even notice him.

All the bad thoughts popped into Javier's head and without thinking he jumped out of the chair. He caught up with you just as you were walking outside.

"Gentlemen!" he said, placing his hand on one of the men's shoulders "I advise you to leave her."

"Get lost, buddy." one of the men hissed "She wants to come with us, right doll?"

Even though you had your eyes open you couldn't form a full sentence. The alcohol was already flowing through your whole body and it was only a matter of time before you could completely lose control over yourself.

"I don't want to cause trouble, but if you insist." Javier pulled his badge from his belt "We can forget about this."

The men looked at each other clearly irritated, but they probably came to the conclusion that you weren't worth the trouble. So you collapsed on Javier, they threw a few curses and went back inside.

"Fuck, good thing you ran into me." Peña mumbled looking around and located his car "I'll take you home."

"Javier..." you sighed, your hand tightening around his, that was around your waist. "Fucking prince."

"I'm far from him, but at least you'll be in one piece. Come on."

It was a challenge to lead you. Every few steps you stopped and Javier began to wonder if it wouldn't be better if he just picked you up. He was already considering it very seriously when he heard someone say his name.

"Fuck." he hissed, realizing who it was.

Peter O'Connell was heading towards him. His tie was already stuffed into his trouser pocket, and his eyes were sparkling suspiciously. He was drunk. However, a wide smile appeared on his face when he saw Peña, and then you.

"I didn't expect that!" he laughed. "You finally made up your mind? Great choice!"

Javier mumbled something indistinctly. But he sensed that something had changed in you. Your hand seemed to grip his more tightly, your figure straightened a bit.

"Peter..." you said quietly.

"I'm glad you're feeling better now." Peter glanced at you lasciviously, the dress you were wearing suddenly seemed inappropriate to you. "I see that the office gossip has a grain of truth to it. Do you work after hours, huh?"

“I have to take her home.” Javier interrupted, pulling you along with him.

"Have fun with her, Peña!" Peter's raucous laughter echoed behind him and the man felt something curdle his insides "I thought you were like me, but you're smarter. Much smarter! If I had known that all I had to do was get that whore drunk to spread her legs, this whole mess would have been avoided." 

Javier stopped abruptly, your eyes meeting for a moment. 

"Not only did she fuck up the whole plan, but she also has to be so cocky. Women like her need to learn humility, Peña! And we'll teach them that lesson. Don't be gentle, these bitches like it rough!" 

It was as if the missing pieces suddenly fell into place. Javier saw it all in your eyes, noticed that you shook your head, whispering his name quietly, but it was too late. His blood was boiling in his veins. 

The hand you were holding ripped away from you and Peña abruptly moved away. You had no chance of stopping him. With one well-aimed punch, he knocked Peter to the ground. Blood gushed from his nose after the second, but Javier didn't stop. He held him by the lapels of his jacket and punched him a few more times.

"Javier! Javier!" your screams barely reached him.

Finally, you grabbed his arm and with no small effort, pulled him away from O'Connell. Blood was already soaking his shirt, and he curled up on the sidewalk, groaning.

"We have to go, Javier." you said, hugging him. "We have to go."

With shaking hands you opened the door to your apartment and rushed inside. The door didn't have time to close when Javier entered after you. Without a word you got out of his car, he barely stopped in front of the building you lived in. He couldn't leave it like that, especially when he saw how shaken you were.

"Will you tell me what the fuck is going on?" he asked seeing you throw your bag on the table breathing sharply "Did he do this to you?"

"It's none of your business." you panted, looking like you'd lost your mind, pacing nervously "You shouldn't have done that! You'll get in trouble! Fuck!"

"I was supposed to listen to him say things like that about you?!" Javier growled.

"You've listened so far!"

He clenched his jaw, rested his arms on his hips and breathed deeply himself. "I won't say I'm sorry. That son of a bitch got what he deserved!"

You rested your hands on the table and leaned over, a groan escaped your throat. Helplessness, anger, despair - all of it built up inside you and had to find an outlet. A sob followed immediately after that and Peña felt his shoulders slump.

"Was that him?" he asked quietly, you nodded "Fuck! You should report it."

You snorted. "You think so?" you lifted your head and looked at Javier.

Although the alcohol was still coursing through your body, adrenaline made you much more alert. You took off your heels and casually ran your hands through your hair.

"What do I say?" you shrugged "My word against his. You know very well what opinions are circulating about me, I won't be credible. Besides... Shit. He probably already bragged to you that we had an affair."

"Yeah, he mentioned something."

You looked at him with pity, but you probably felt more sorry for yourself.

"I was young and naive. Peter seemed like a fucking god to me." a strange smile appeared on your lips, but it didn't reach your eyes, they still seemed terrifyingly sad to Javier "I fell in love, just like that... I wouldn't break up his family, he said he was separated, that his marriage had been dead for a long time..."

Your voice broke. Javier felt a lump in his throat that prevented him from saying a single word. He could only listen to you. And look. And the sight was simply pathetic.

You were beautiful. He knew it, although he pretended not to notice. And that smile of yours... Or when you made him angry, you were the best at it. Only recently had he been able to admit to himself that sometimes he would like to switch places with those men you took home. He didn't understand it.

"He came here and he was furious. He shouted that I could have fucked up his career again." you continued in a quiet voice, arms wrapped around your chest, eyes wandering somewhere on the floor "He said I owed him something..."

"Did he…?" Javier barely recognized his own voice.

You quickly shook your head. "No. We just... We had a little fight."

"Jesus!" he took a step towards you, his legs felt like cotton "And you're saying I shouldn't punch him in the face? You should report it."

You shook your head again. He noticed you quickly wiped your face so he wouldn't see your tears.

"Peter will leave eventually. And now he will for sure." you said, your voice firm, as if you were discussing a plan of action with him. "If he tells Messina what happened, there would be an internal investigation, and that would bring all this shit to light. He'll want to avoid that."

"And you'll leave him like this?"

You looked up at Javier. "What am I supposed to do, huh? Who will take my side?" you saw him twitch "Javier, it doesn't make sense. I won't win this. I can only show up at the office tomorrow and see what Peter will do."

"And if he doesn't leave?

"He will leave, he's a coward. He transferred me to another department in fear that his wife would find out about me, and then he moved to another state with his family. But maybe you taught him something."

Javier sighed quietly. He knew perfectly well what you were talking about and although he thought you should have done differently, he knew the reality. You were right when you told him once that if you had a dick you would be treated differently.

He came closer and his fingers brushed your arm in a tender gesture "Do you want me to stay here with you?" he asked.

"No need." you replied, and seeing his look you added forcing a smile "But I appreciate it, Javier. I really do."

"At least I'll come tomorrow and take you to work. And no, I won't take no for an answer."

You nodded. "Okay."

He had beautiful eyes. God, you'd known that for ages. But when they were fixed on you like that, you could feel that he was really seeing you. He licked his lips with the tip of his tongue.

"You're tough, you know that? Tougher than most guys."

"And you're not like him, Javier."

"I brought you the files you asked for. I will bring the rest when the latest statements and reports are completed."

You took the files from Loise's hands and thanked her, but the woman didn't seem to want to leave your desk so soon.

"Is something wrong?" you asked, seeing her nervously picking at her cuticles.

She glanced over her shoulder as if she was afraid someone might overhear you, and then said, in a not-so-quiet whisper. "I heard O'Connell's going back to the States."

"Oh."

"You don't know why?" Loise looked at you closely.

You shrugged and shifted in your seat. "How would I know? It's none of my business."

Loise rolled her eyes. "Come on! I heard what the guys were saying on their cigarette breaks. About you and him."

A cold shiver ran down your spine, but you tried not to let it show. You didn't need to get involved.

"Gossip is not our job, Loise. Thank you for that and..."

"You dumped him for Peña?"

"W-What?!" you gasped in surprise. "What kind of question is that?"

Now it was Loise's turn to shrug and fold her arms over her chest. "We saw you this morning. You came in the same car."

"That doesn't mean anything." you snorted.

"You've never come with anyone before."

"Loise! ​​Do we really have to have this conversation?" you stood up and glared at the woman. "It's none of your fucking business. Focus on your work, not gossiping."

The woman straightened up indignantly at your outburst. Her cheeks reddened with anger. "I'm sure Peña's already gotten into your panties, huh? You deserve each other."

"Loise, why did you even think I wear panties?"

The woman opened her mouth, clearly wanting to tell you something, but almost jumped in fear when someone entered your office.

"Messina called a quick meeting. Are you coming?" Javier announced, looking at you, and then, sensing the strange atmosphere, he moved his gaze to Loise. "Sorry, did I interrupt you?"

You shook your head. "Never mind. Yeah, I'm coming."

Javier let you through the door, threw another quick glance at Loise and followed you. "Did something happen?"

"She came to tell me that O'Connell is coming back to the States." You sighed.

"I've heard that before too. But that's not what really got you so worked up, is it?"

He opened the door for you.

"No. People noticed that we came together today."

"Damn..." Javier already knew what you wanted to say. "Now we're sleeping together?"

"Yeah, and I don't wear panties."

"What?!"

You just gave him a quick smile and you entered the conference room where most of the team was already gathered. Murphy smiled at the sight of you and gestured for you to come over.

"Connie asked me to invite you to dinner with us on Saturday." he said looking at Messina who was entering. "We don't take excuses. She wanted to thank you for telling us about the ambush." ​​

"I don't know, I'm bad at things like that." you replied, although the offer seemed very nice to you.

Steve laughed. "I guess you're no worse than Peña."

"Hey! I'm here, asshole!" Javier said.

"She invited you too. You have to eat a normal meal eventually."

You could barely hold back your laughter. "Okay, I'll come. Thanks."

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist: @qpiiee @missladym1981 @axshadows @djappleblush @picketniffler @txmel @wowitsafemale @cheekychaos28 @underneath-the-sky-again

[couldsewyouastitch]

Things Left Unsaid [Javier Peña]

pairings: javier peña x f!reader wordcount: 2.3K ish warnings: strong language and profanity, sexist and misogynistic comments/workplace harassment, mentions of the hair lenght, references to violence and blood, implied trauma and PTSD, references to drug trafficking and criminal activity, sexual objectification, mild sexual content/references, descriptions of emotional distress, references to guns/weapons, smoking, cursing...

a/n: i wasn't sure if i wanted to post this because i am my own worst critic and i kept telling myself that i am not good enough to do so... but this was something that is somewhat inspired by a real event with real people, and i had to come to terms with knowing about it on one way or another... thanks to @thundermartini for reading the first draft and leaving me the most amazing message in my inbox after that. anyway, you know what to do, read, love, hate, like, reblog, send me a message, tell me what you think, comment...

main blog: savedyounine | discord: saveyouanine

masterlist

The house slouches on the block like a forgotten drunk. Tired. Unremarkable. Just another weary face in a city that’s seen too much. The pale blue paint peels in long, curling strips, exposing the wood beneath like old scars. A rusted metal gate leans off its hinges. The porch light flickers weakly. An afterthought. A dying firefly no one bothers to swat away.

It doesn’t call attention to itself. It doesn’t need to. Just another forgotten place in a city full of them.

Inside, the air is dense, weighted with old cigarette smoke and the scorched bitterness of coffee left too long on the burner. The walls have absorbed it all—years of nicotine, restless nights, and the kind of exhaustion that doesn’t fade, no matter how many hours of sleep one steals.

The overhead light buzzes, flickering at odd intervals, just enough to set your nerves on edge. Typewriters clatter—a mechanical heartbeat—while the wiretap machine hisses and spits out fragments of conversation. Men speaking in low, measured tones. Sicarios making arrangements. The price of a shipment. The price of a man’s life. Women with no names who belong to no one but get passed around anyway.

A burst of laughter cuts through the static—loud, careless. The sound of men who will never lose sleep over the dead.

Javier Peña leans against the kitchen counter, a cigarette hanging loose between his lips as he absently jabs at an omelet that’s already past saving. The eggs are burning, edges curling black against the scratched pan, but he doesn’t care. He’s only cooking because his stomach has been clawing at itself for hours, and the fridge holds nothing but warm beer and instant coffee. 

From the doorway, Steve Murphy watches Javier like he's watching a car wreck in slow motion.

"That smoke alarm’s gonna go off again." His voice is flat, tinged with something between amusement and resignation. 

Javier draws on his cigarette. Exhales through his nose. Waves the spatula at his partner without looking up. 

“Disconnected that piece of shit weeks ago.”

Murphy exhales, a sound caught between a snort and a sigh. “Of course you did.”

Javier glances at him, grinning around his cigarette. “You act surprised?”

Steve opens his mouth as if to answer, but stops when you walk in. 

Mariposa.

Javier never says the name out loud. Never lets it slip. He isn’t even sure where it came from—just that it stuck, somewhere in the back of his mind. Soft where everything else about you is sharp. A joke, maybe. Or irony. Because you don't fit the name. Don’t fit something delicate, something that belongs in sunlight. Not in this place. Not in this life.

You move through the room like you’re both there and not, like a ghost dragging its chains. A stack of files sits under one arm, paper edges curling like they’ve been handled too much. Your newly shorn hair sticks up in uneven tufts, and even now, the sight of it still throws him. Because he used to spot you instantly in a room full of men—just a glance, just the way your long hair caught the light. Now? Now you blend in. Disappear. 

But you weren’t always like this. 

A few weeks ago, they pulled you out of a raid looking like something that had been left behind in the wreckage. Blood poured down your face, dark where it mixed with sweat and dirt. And Javier has seen a lot of things—bad things, ugly things—but something about that has hit him sideways. Twisted something deep in his gut.

The bastard who grabbed you had gone for your hair first. Wrapped his fist in it, yanked you back so hard your spine arched, gun pressed against your temple. A good grip. A solid hold. Later, you told him—in that flat voice of yours, the one that makes everything sound like an afterthought—that it was just instinct for men like that. No different from grabbing a bitch by the collar.

What you didn’t say, but what he could see clear as day, was how much it had gotten to you.

Javier's thoughts come to an abrupt stop when an agent across the room calls out to you, “Nice haircut!”

You don’t even glance up. Just flip open a file and mutter, “Go fuck yourself.”

Javier exhales smoke through his nose, watching you without watching you. There’s something tight in his chest, something that hasn’t loosened in all the time since. He doesn’t touch it. Doesn’t acknowledge it.

Just like he hadn’t that night.

The night you cut it off.

No.

The night he cut it for you.

You had come to him, silent and hollow-eyed, knees pulled to your chest as you sat on the floor of his apartment. The scissors had been clenched in your hands, your grip too tight, like you were trying to find the nerve. And Javier had stood there, looking down at you, still seeing you the way you had looked after the raid—blood smeared across your face, dirt smudged into your skin, silent in a way that had scared him more than your scream ever could.

“Cut it off,” you had said, voice raw. “Please.”

So he had.

He had crouched in front of you, taken the scissors from your hands without a word. Hadn’t asked if you were sure. Hadn’t tried to talk you down. Just ran his fingers through your hair one last time, slow and deliberate, committing it to memory. And then he had begun cutting—the sharp snip of the blades the only sound between you.

And he had taken his time. Made it even. Made it right.

As much as he could, at least.

You hadn’t sobbed. Hadn’t shaken. Just sat there, unblinking, as the pieces of your old self had fallen away.

And Javier had wanted to say something. Should have said something. Something solid. Something that wouldn’t have sounded cheap coming out of his mouth.

But there had been nothing.

So he had kept cutting. Kept working until there had been nothing left to take.

After a moment, he had exhaled, set the scissors down, and run a hand over the uneven strands.

“Come on,” he had muttered.

You hadn’t asked where he was taking you. Just let him lead you to the bathroom. Let him nudge you to sit on the edge of the tub. He had turned on the faucet. Tested the water with his fingers. Tipped your head forward over the sink.

Javier had worked in silence, fingers gentle as he had rinsed the stray strands from your skin, as he had lathered government issued soap into the uneven remains of your hair. He had been careful, methodical, like it had mattered that he got this part right.

When it had been over, he had grabbed a towel and pressed it into your hands. Walked out without a word.

Now, you keep it short.

No more easy handholds.

Smart.

“—shit, I’d still fuck her.”

Vargas’s voice drags Javier out of the memory like a fist to the ribs, sharp and uninvited, yanking him back into the stale air of the office.

Javier barely holds back a sigh. 

Here we go.

"Not like she’d let you, pendejo," Reyes mutters, shaking out a cigarette and flicking his lighter open with a practiced motion. "She’d probably bite your dick off."

"Nah," Vargas continues, flipping through his notepad, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather. "These hardass bitches? Always the ones that like getting roughed up."

A low chuckle rolls through the room, loose and unbothered. Even Murphy, usually the one to step in, only shakes his head, offering nothing more than the faintest look of distaste before turning back to his work.

No one stops it. No one ever does. It’s just how men like them talk. Because the only woman in the office only gets to be one of two things—off-limits or fair game.

Javier flicks his cigarette into the sink, watching the ember sizzle against the metal. He could tell them to shut the fuck up. Could knock Vargas’s teeth through the back of his skull just for the hell of it. But he doesn’t. Not because he agrees, not because he doesn’t care but because he knows exactly how you would feel about it.

You would hate it.

The last thing you want is a man standing up for you like you need protecting.

So instead, he exhales slowly and mutters, "You should probably worry more about getting your dick wet at all, Vargas."

Laughter erupts around the room, and just like that, the subject changes.

Javier lets himself glance your way.

You don’t react. Don’t flinch, don’t frown, don’t even pause as you flip through the file, turning each page with careful, measured precision. But he catches it anyway—the slight tension in your fingers, the way they press just a little too hard against the paper’s edge.

And then, for the briefest second, you look up.

There’s nothing at first. No acknowledgment, no irritation, no gratitude. Just a glance, cool and unreadable. But beneath it, something lingers—a flicker of understanding, maybe. Or something close enough to it.

Then it’s gone. You turn another page, as if nothing happened.

Later, as you pass his desk, you drop a folder in front of him without a word.

Javier doesn’t move, doesn’t look up right away. But he notices—because he always does—that the hand resting on the edge of his desk is steady again.

—

After, when the house becomes unbearable—when the clatter of typewriters grates against his nerves and the air turns thick with stale cigarettes and too many bodies in too small a space—Javier steps out onto the back porch.

The heat is a living thing, wrapping around him, pressing against his skin, damp and relentless. He rolls his shoulders, but it doesn’t shake loose. 

Something sweet and rotten lingers in the air. The mango tree in the yard, branches heavy with overripe fruit, drips sickly-sweet decay.

He hates that smell. The way it clings, the way it turns the air thick.

He flicks his lighter open, flame sparking in the dark as he raises a cigarette to his lips.

That’s when he sees you.

You’resitting on the steps, knees drawn up, arms looped loosely around them. From behind, you could be anyone—just another agent taking a breather, trying to shake off the weight of the job.

But Javier knows better.

He debates turning around, giving you space. You’ve been on edge, more than usual. Snapping at people. Keeping your head down. Like you’re waiting for someone to reach for your hair again.

And that’s when you shift, just slightly, and the light from the house catches on her cheek.

A streak of wetness.

Fuck.

Javier exhales, slowly, then moves.

He doesn’t speak, just lowers himself onto the step beside you, leaving enough space so it doesn’t feel like a question. Close enough to be there, far enough to let you breathe.

And for a while, neither of you says anything.

The night settles around you—cicadas, a dog barking somewhere down the street, the distant crackle of a radio inside. The air still carries that sticky-sweet rot from the mango tree, heavy and cloying, making it feel like the night itself is pressing down on you.

You shift slightly, arms tightening around your knees. Then, almost absently—

"It’s worse at night."

Your voice is quiet, like you aren’t even sure you meant to say it aloud.

Javier rolls his cigarette between his fingers, watching the ember flare and fade.

"Yeah." His voice comes out rougher than he means it to. "I know."

You let out a short breath—not quite a laugh, not quite anything.

"Yeah," you murmur. "I guess you do."

Neither of you fills the space that follows. The silence stretches, not awkward, just thick with something unspoken. A car rumbles past somewhere beyond the trees, the faint thump of a radio disappearing as quickly as it came. The sounds of a city that doesn’t give a shit about either of you.

You exhale slowly, pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes for a second before dropping them.

Your voice is quieter when you speak again, "Does it ever stop?"

Javier takes a drag, lets the smoke sit in his lungs before exhaling. He doesn’t answer right away. Not because he’s trying to be profound, but because he honestly doesn’t know what to say.

Eventually, he settles on the truth.

"It gets quieter."

You turn your head slightly, looking at him out of the corner of your eye, like you’re trying to gauge whether that’s supposed to be comforting. It isn’t. You both know it.

But after a moment, you nod.

That’s all.

Inside, Murphy’s voice cuts through the quiet. "Javi, new intercept. You’re gonna wanna hear this."

Javier stubs out his cigarette against the step, grinding the ember to nothing before standing.

He hesitates—just for a second—then holds out a hand.

You look at it, then at him. Not like you don’t know what to do, but like you’re measuring something. Like you’re seeing the line between you, thin and fraying.

Then, slowly, you place her palm in his.

It is cool. Rough in places. The faint ridge of a scar beneath your thumb. A callus from your trigger finger.

He memorizes the feeling before you pull away.

Without a word, you step past him, disappearing into the house.

Javier watches you go.

Mariposa.

You’ll never be his. Not in the way that matters.

But in the ways that count? Javier wants to believe you already are.

[icanbringyouinhot]

Take something bad and make it into something good - Chapter 2

Paring: retired!Javier Peña x F!reader

Summary: After leaving Colombia, Javier slowly but surely slides into a post-burnout depression that he tries to self-medicate with alcohol and self-imposed exile. However, his friend Steve Murphy and his wife Connie are not having it. Turns out, their endless nagging got him in a very interesting situation that turned out to be exactly what he needed. (Though, he’ll never admit they were right.)

The song of this chapter: Breakers by Local Natives

Warnings: mentions of trauma, PTSD, depression, alcohol abuse, smoking, very brief, very vague mentions of blood, death, political injustice, Javi being a total fluff ball of insecurities. No physical descriptions of the reader. No smut (yet?). Lemme know if I forgot something.

Word count: 4k (last chapter literally said double it and give it to the next one)

A/N: Since Javi is having the big D word (depression) I am playing fast and loose with his physical description. So if you get the feeling that I am describing the Joel Miller from the first episode of TLOU, you are absolutely right and I am not sorry about it. And it will probably happen again.

<< Chapter 1 — Chapter 3 (coming soon in theaters) >>

Let's begin, shall we, ladies? *smirks charmingly*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Javier woke up as if from the dead with a groan. His head was pounding – no, that’s putting it too mildly – his head felt like someone spent the whole night going at it with a jackhammer and it finally cracked open. His whole body ached in a familiar way, making him feel glued to the mattress, even the mere attempt to untangle himself from between the sheets was fruitless as his arms felt heavier than the day before.

Nothing was new though.

In the last four months Javier woke up feeling like absolute shit at least three days out of seven, each time having the same reason – drinking himself stupid until he fell into a dreamless state. After that, things succeeded in the same order each morning – head about to explode, a splitting, pulsing pain behind his eyes, his body sticky-wet from a repulsing sweat that reeked of alcohol and the annoying feeling of his tongue and throat cushioned with cotton. Each and every damn time, without fail, but it wasn’t a good enough reason for him to stop doing what he was doing.

At first, he lied to himself saying that he was just letting loose, finally out of the government’s heavy boot that was pressed on his chest for so long, celebrating his retirement. He promised to himself that once he got it out of his system, he would get back on his feet and start doing something with his life.

Then, when the festivities were over, he used the excuse that a glass or two of something wouldn’t hurt on the days he was feeling a little under the weather.

Now he was drinking just to help himself sleep.

He didn’t care enough to try to come up with new excuses anymore. All he cared about was numbing the hollow cave he had inside of him, until he forgot it was there. Life was bliss when he couldn’t feel the tip of his fingers, his nose, or the demons of the past that gnawed at whatever was left of his soul.

Why the ever-loving fuck was he awake right now? His body sure didn’t feel like it was ready do to so.

Right when he was about to come to his senses, or fall back asleep – he wasn’t sure which one, Javier realized that the phone, which hadn’t stop ringing this whole time, was the reason of his premature conscient state.

He groaned, rolling onto his stomach, burying his face into the pillow. It smelled like whiskey and cigarettes. His whole damn apartment did.

The phone stopped for two seconds. Then started again.

“Fuck’s sake,” he muttered, reaching blindly, knocking over a half empty glass in the process. The smell of stale liquor hit his nose as it spilled onto the floor. He finally found the receptor, bringing it to his ear without even opening his eyes.

“Wha-…” his voice sounded like he chewed gravel for fun so he cleared his voice before trying again, “What?”

A pause. Then, Steve’s voice, sharp and unimpressed. “You sound like shit.”

Javi grunted. “What do you want, Murphy?”

“I want to know where the hell have you been last night.”

Javi exhaled deeply, running a hand down his face. “Christ, Steve. What, you checking on me now?” he muttered, now rubbing his eyes, hoping that applying a light pressure on them would ease the pulsing pain. “I was right there at that damned gallery you and your woman dragged me into.”

There was a pause for silence on the other line, but Javier knew that silence. It meant Steve was trying to recollect himself before talking again, already sick of his bullshit. He could almost imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose and brushing his hay-colored moustache with a pissed off expression.

“You know that’s not what I meant, Javi… You just disappeared halfway through the night, you didn’t answer your home phone, never left a message, seriously, what the fuck?” Steve scolded him like he was a troubled teenager and Javi had to resist the temptation to grind his teeth – he didn’t want to worsen his headache. “Connie and I thought you left to crawl into a bottle again. You’ve been real fuckin’ predictable lately.” His voice was calmed down in intensity, disappointment taking over, “I really thought you were making progress here, and there you go pulling the same shit again.”

If he had any energy or fucks to give, Javier would have snapped back defending his honor, but he had neither, so he kept his mouth shut. Even so, Steve’s words stung, reminding once again of the disappointment he’s become.

“I didn’t do that.” He muttered into the speaker. “I really tried to stay there the whole time. It’s just…” Javi debated if he should tell the truth, and hell, for a second he considered the option of letting Murphy think he was slipping back into his own problems, but after all the support he’s given him, it would have been just plain cruel. “I met someone.”

“You met someone?” Steve echoed incredulous with a hint of amusement that didn’t go unnoticed by Javier.

Damn right he met someone. The most fascinating woman he’s ever talked to in God knows how long. The night before was one of the few times when he felt good – really fucking good – for a large number of hours.

After the two of you ditched the art exhibition, you picked up a leisurely pace walking down the busy streets, your arms brushing against each other at all times like there was a gravitational force pulling you towards one another. But never holding hands. God no. The first and most obvious reason for both of you was the fact that you barely knew each other, yet the second reason – the one only Javier knew, was the fact that he couldn’t bring himself to tainting your spirit with all the shit he carried around.

So, the two of you just walked and talked, well – most of the time you talked, like a damn chatterbox that you were, but he loved every second of it. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason why he was so fascinated by you. Sure, you were an incredibly intelligent woman, funny, humble, self-aware, real – and to say that you were beautiful was an understatement. But above all these things, there was something about you, something that didn’t have a word but felt almost tangible. You were a breath of fresh air for a man like Javier, who lived for far too long feeling suffocated.

“Well? Who the hell did you meet?”

Oh, right.

“Just some woman at the gallery.” Javi tried to keep it simple.

“So, you picked up a chick and brought her back to your place.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement, like when you say the sky is blue, water is wet and Javier’s mental health was in a serious decline. Just stating the obvious.

Not this time though.

“Actually, no I didn’t. Just went out for a drink, spent some time talking, then walked her home.”

“So you didn’t fuck her?” Steve’s words made Javi slightly flinch.

“No, moron, I didn’t fuck her.” he grunted.

He would’ve though. He wanted to. But he couldn’t, simply couldn’t. You were standing in front of him all soft, kind and pure, he would have never forgiven himself if he allowed his blood-stained hands to ruin your perfect soul.

And it sure wasn’t easy sticking to his motives. At one point during the night, you’ve given him enough hints that you most definitely wanted more.

                                                            -

“I swear, it’s older than you!” you defended your very old bottle of whiskey at home, earning yourself a pearly grin from Javi, one that came with a dimple on the right cheek.

“How the hell did you get your hands on something like that? And why didn’t you drink it already?”

“One of my grandma’s exes was collector and just randomly gifted me one for my birthday. He was so set in his ways to impress her that he just gave me like it was no big deal.” You shrugged and at this point in the night Javier already learned that your grandma wasn’t a typical grandma. “You know, Javi,” your voice suddenly dropped an octave, “we could always go over to my place, try that whiskey together.”

He smiled, ignoring the fact that he was actively screaming on the inside, shrugging it off. “I think I’ve had enough to drink for tonight. Maybe next time.”

                                                            -

And then he went back to his place and got fucking plastered trying to fall asleep and forget about you.

“Since when Javier Peña turns down an opportunity like this?” Murphy’s voice creeped inside his hungover mind.

He didn’t know what to say, what lie or cheap excuse to offer him, because all he had was the painful truth – he didn’t want to ruin someone good.

“Just didn’t want to.”

Another pause. “You gonna see her again?”

Javi didn’t answer.

Steve exhaled sharply. “Jesus, Javi…”

He sat up slowly, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. His head throbbed and his mouth tasted like a goddamn ashtray.

“Okay, let’s cut the crap. We both know why you are like this, and I keep telling you, this is not Colombia. You’ve gotten out, you are free, alright? Stop kicking yourself and ruin your life over it.” It was the first time Murphy addressed the elephant in the room ever since Javier came back to the states. “Do you think any narco, sicario or some big government weasel loses any sleep over you?”

Javier didn’t say anything. He didn’t need anyone to lose sleep over him because he didn’t lose any sleep for them either. The civilians, the innocent kids, women and men alike, his coworkers who had families they needed to take care of, even Murphy’s fucking dead cat, those were the ones he dedicated his sleepless nights to. Those were the ones who didn’t deserve to die, but they did, many of them because of the fucked up decisions that he made. He dedicated his insomnia to every poor soul out there who was a victim of this fucked up system and who thought that the government was working to help them. What a fucking joke.

He may be out of Colombia now, but everything that happened there stayed with him.

                                                            -

“You always this broody, Peña?”

“Only on Tuesdays.”

You laughed at that, the sound warm and genuine. ”Lucky me, catching you at your worst.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He smiled bitterly, taking a sip of his drink. “This ain’t my worst.”

                                                            -

Steve, either sensing something in his silence or just being relentless as usual, kept going. “Look,” he said, his voice lowering, “I get it. I was there too, I know how shit was down there. I know you can’t just – just move on like nothing happened, pretend that part of you didn’t exist.”

Javi clenched his jaw.

                                                            -

“So what’d you do before?” you’d asked, tracing circled on the rim of your glass.

He’d taken a long sip of his whiskey before answering. “Worked as a cop.”

You tilted your head. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

He could feel your eyes on him, like you were trying to read between the lines, see past the half-truths. But you didn’t push. You just nodded, accepting it at face value.

That was the thing about you. You made it easy.

                                                            -

Steve was still going strong with his pep-talk on the other side of the line, “… - but you can’t waste your life like this, man.”

Javi scoffed, rubbing his temple. “I’m fine.”

“The hell you are.”

Silence stretched between them. Javi ran a hand through his hair, staring at the floor, at the empty bottles, the scattered cigarette packs and dirty clothes abandoned in random places.

Feeling that Javi wasn’t willing to answer, Murph just went on talking, “Listen, how ‘bout you come over tomorrow, we’ll make a barbecue, have some beers, maybe tell us some more about your new friend from the gallery. And-… “ Steve’s voice suddenly turned a lot sweeter and softer than the one he used on Javi, “…-yes, babygirl, I’ll tell him – Uncle Javi, Olivia is very excited to show you what she’s learned in her ballet class.” Javier could hear the muffled voice of his niece buzzing somewhere close to her father, which almost made him smile.

“Listen, man-…” he wanted to say but Steve cut him off briefly.

“It’s not a request, Javi.”

Javi gritted his teeth. “I don’t do barbecues.”

“Well, tough shit, you do now.”

Javi groaned, flopping back onto the bed.

Steve’s tone sharpened. “You don’t show up tomorrow, I’m coming to your place, beat some sense into you and drag you here myself.”

There was a long pause, followed by Javi’s curses and something mumbled that sounded a lot like I leave those commanding assholes just to be ordered around by this washed out shit.

“Fine”

“Fine?” Steve echoed in disbelief.

Javier grumbled, again, by this time his headache’s gotten even worse. “Yes, jackass, fine. I’ll be there.”

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Said Murphy and abruptly ended the call.

He didn’t want to see anyone. Didn’t want to make small talk, pretend to be a functioning person. He was too tired for that.

He sat there in his bed, staring at the ceiling for God knows how long. He wished he could say he was thinking about something, but he was too tired and numb to do that. So he just sat there, listening. He heard the TV of one of his neighbors, he could hear the buzzing of the street outside, cars, people, the world moving on while he felt frozen in time. He listened to his own breath, feeling that rotten muscle pump the blood in his body, blood that should have been spilled on some dark and dirty alley in Medellin a long time ago.

He didn’t feel real. This was a reoccurring thought for him. He didn’t feel real, not for some time now.

Yesterday he felt better though, good enough to let himself be fooled that maybe things are finally starting to move into the right direction. For a few hours he wholeheartedly believed that maybe Murphy was right, he just needed fresh air, a change of scenery, some light. Oh, how easy things would have been if he had the mental complexity of a plant.

But it wasn’t that what made him feel better. He’s been dragged around by the Murphys plenty of times in the last few months and it didn’t change anything. No, it was you. As awful and unfair as it would sound, you were the sole reason for his bettered state of mind.

And for half a second, he believed it was real.

Your name alone sat warm in his mouth, something soft and sweet in a world that had nothing left but jagged edges.

You talked too much, that was the first thing he noticed.

You filled the air like it was your goddamn job, talking about art and books and your strong opinions on everything, talking about the world like it still had a prayer, like the world wasn’t a miserable, fucked-up place, like people weren’t selfish, cruel, broken things.

And your laugh. The way you’d leaned in, eyes bright, telling some ridiculous story about your childhood. The way you’d made it sound like everything in your past was warm and easy, like you didn’t have a single ugly thing weighting you down.

How could he ever let himself ruin that?

And the way you looked at him – Jesus.

Like you thought he was someone worth looking at. He hated it.

Hated how easy it was for you to smile at him, how quick you were to tease him, how you sat there in that dim lit pub, laughing at something he said like he was just some guy, some normal fucking guy and not a ruined, hollow shell of a man.

Most importantly, he hated himself for how you made him feel and the fact that he couldn’t stop thinking about you. What has he – a boy? A fucking boy? Going all gooey and enraptured over you just because you treated him like a decent human being?

Javi grumbled something, shifting in his bed, then, with a heavy breath, he pushed himself up and stumbled toward the shower.

The water ran cold for the first few seconds. Not that it mattered. Javier just stood there, one hand braced against the tile, forehead resting against his arm, eyes shut against the sting of last night’s whiskey and self-loathing.

By the time the heat kicked in, scalding against his skin, he still didn’t move.

His head throbbed in sync with his heartbeat. His stomach churned, threatening to revolt. He should eat something, but that required effort. And he didn’t have the energy for that—not when his own fucking brain wouldn’t shut up. On top of that, he already used all his energy to get into that shower

            He could still hear your laugh. Still see the way you’d thrown your head back, all teeth and warmth, touching his shoulder anytime you’d bend out in laughter, something so damn genuine about it that it made his chest ache.

                                                                        -

           “He flew right into my room. Just – boom, right into the window. Poor thing was too stunned for a solid minute.”

           “Bet he regretted that one.”

           “Oh, for sure. But I took care of him, you know, let him hang upside down in my closet for two days and fed him apple sauce until my grandma found out I was keeping a bat as a pet.”

            You said it so simply, so easily, like it was the most natural thing in the world – to see something broken and hurt and try to help it.

            He chuckled – actually chuckled, at your innocence. “You could’ve gotten rabies!”

            “I could have also gotten a life-long friend, Javi!”

            “I think you would have been the only five grader with a rabid flying rat for a friend.”

            “When you don’t have friends as a child, anything would do.”

            He just looked at you with compassion, with fondness.

            After a beat, you added with a small, sweet voice, “His name was Timothy.”

                                                                        -

          "Tell me more about your grandmother and her gallery" he asked after a beat, glancing around at the sea of people in the pub. He was dying to know more about you, but at the same he didn’t want to be too straight forward about it. If he was to be honest about it, you almost intimidated him.

You smiled warmly. "She's had this gallery since before I was born. She still curates a lot of the exhibits, even though she keeps saying she's going to retire."

"And you? Not in the family business?"

"God, no," you said with a dramatic shudder. "I love my grandmother, but this is not my thing."

"Could've fooled me," Javi muttered.

You tilted your head with an amused grin. "Because I can make up a bunch of nonsense on the spot?"

"Exactly.”

You shrugged. "Just a skill I picked up along the way."

Javi narrowed his eyes slightly, studying you. "You a writer?"

"Not professionally," you said, almost shyly. "Just... stories, sometimes."

"Huh." He looked you over again, like you were a puzzle piece he hadn't quite placed yet. A storyteller. That made sense. You had that kind of mind – the kind that found patterns, that turned nothing into something, who turned something bad into something good just with a little wordplay.

                                                                        -

Javi exhaled sharply, pushing off the tile, scrubbing a hand through his wet hair. The shower was too damn small, the walls too fucking close. He felt restless, a dull, crawling sensation under his skin that no amount of water could wash away.

                                                            -

“So, what, you don’t paint? Or play piano?” you’d asked, eyebrows raised over the rim of your glass.

He’d snorted. “Sweetheart, I don’t do a lot of things.”

“Tragic.” You leaned forward, elbows on the table. “A man with hands like yours should know how to do something.”

                                                            -

Something had twisted in his stomach at that.

Because you didn’t know. Didn’t know what his hands had done, how much blood they had on them, how much of it he still felt even now, months after leaving Colombia behind.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, the water still running too hot.

He shouldn’t have let it get that far.

He shouldn’t have walked you home.

And he sure as hell shouldn’t have stood there like some fucking idiot when you’d tilted your chin up, leaning in just slightly, that subtle invitation hanging between the two of you.

Javi had kissed plenty of women.

Hell, he’d spent the better part of his time in Colombia doing exactly that—distracting himself with soft mouths and eager hands, chasing oblivion between someone else’s legs. But last night…

You’d been right there.

Your lips, just a breath away. Your eyes, half-lidded and expectant. Your voice, softer than before, still playful.

“Are you coming up? That old ass whiskey is still waiting to be consumed.”

He should have said yes.

Should have let you pull him inside, let you press up against him, let you—

Javi slammed the water off, gripping the edge of the shower wall, chest rising and falling too fast.

He had wanted you. Fuck, he had wanted you. Of course he did, he was depressed, not dead.

But not like that. Not like some drunk asshole looking for a quick fix, for something—someone—to chase away the ghosts.

You weren’t built for that. And neither was he. Not with you.

He wanted to be able to give you something real, because you were real. And he? He was a coward and a liar who hid himself under a mask.

Javi ran both hands down his face, inhaled deeply, then stepped out onto the cold tile.

He grabbed a towel off the rack, rubbed it over his face, through his hair. The mirror was fogged up, but he didn’t bother wiping it. Didn’t need to see himself right now.

Didn’t want to check if the kind of man you might’ve thought he was, was there, only see the complete opposite.

He didn’t want to see how he let himself go, his iconic moustache already blended in with a thick beard and his hair wild, unkept, curling in all the wrong directions.

Javi was still damp when he collapsed onto his couch, a towel hanging loosely around his neck, hair dripping onto his shoulders. His body felt heavy, his skin too tight.

His apartment smelled like stale liquor and cigarettes. He should clean up. Take out the bottles, wash the dishes, maybe even open a damn window.

Instead, he reached for the pack of cigarettes on the table, lit one and took a long, deep drag.

The nicotine settled uneasily in his stomach.

He let his head tip back against the couch, staring at the ceiling.

You were gonna forget about him. Probably already had.

Women like you—bright, soft, good—they didn’t waste their time on men like him. And that was for the best.

But it didn’t stop him from wondering, though.

Didn’t stop him from thinking about the way you’d smiled at him in the dim bar light, eyes shining with something he didn’t deserve.

Didn’t stop him from wishing, for one brief second, that he was someone else. Someone who could have leaned in, kissed you, taken your hand, let you pull him into something warmer than he’d ever known.

Javi exhaled, smoke curling toward the ceiling.

He needed another drink.

But Steve’s words rattled around in his skull.

“You can’t waste your life like this.”

Javi huffed a humorless laugh. Too late for that.

Still.

Tomorrow, he’d go to that stupid barbecue. He’d sit there, let Connie make a plate for him, let Steve give him shit, let their kid run around the yard like life was something easy, something good.

And then he’d go home.

Drink. Smoke. Try not to think about the fact that, for the first time in a long time, he’d wanted something more than just another forgettable night.

And fail.

Because he could still taste the ghost of a kiss that never happened.

And he wasn’t sure he’d ever stop wanting it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Now, let me explain myself before you start throwing the tomatoes.

Did I rob you all of their date? Yes.

Am I sorry? No. Because more sneakpeeks will come later when the reader's gonna have her turn on the pov.

Or at least that's what I tell myself, because most of the time I have no Idea what the fuck I'm doing or what's the direction I wanna take until I'm already there.

Also please don't be shy to drag me down and give me your honest opinion, I promise I will take it like the good girl I am like a champ.