#I just realized I should have added Javy in here

[whohasthecards]

Bradley, Bob, & Jake as Brothers

Just imagining the dynamic if these three because of the Dagger Squad and Mav and Ice began started to bond.

Bradley: An only child who was suddenly given 2 baby brothers.

Goose and Carol's only son, became a Mama's boy

After Goose died, the class of '86 helped chip in to raise him, meaning before they settled in with their own families he got the attention of so many uncles.

Mav of course took the most active role, basically being the father-figure to Bradley after Goose died. Bradley sees him more as a dad than Goose, that's why it hurt so much when Mav pulled his papers.

Then suddenly, the mission happened, they turn into a permanent squadron, and wow is Mav bringing Jake and Bob around more and more.

Hmmm, so Bob's former squadron giving him some trouble? No they're not.

Goddammit, Jake, give that back, right now!

Bradley: Hangman's the worst, selfish prick (Jake ate his leftovers). Some guy: Yeah, the guy's a fucking selfish assho- Bradley: What the fuck did you just say?

Bob: The youngest child given an older brother that actually pays attention to him and a younger brother that he needs to protect.

Big age difference between him and his siblings, he's the baby, was born when his siblings were already teenagers and young adults, focused on their own lives than him.

He was spoiled and loved by his family though, but they couldn't give him a lot of time and attention. His siblings were building their own lives, his parents were getting older, and he was an "easy kid". Bob was quiet, easy to please, easy to ignore.

When he said he wanted to join the Navy, his family was not supportive and doubted his ability. Deeply hurt him.

Then Bradley came, who would actually listen to him. Ruffle his hair and offer to hang out with him. They would play instruments together and stuff. Who defended him against his former squadron when they were making fun of him.

Then there was Jake who loved poking fun at him, but never in a mean way. Who would forget to eat when he was busy or having fun, making him have to shove fruit snacks in his mouth. Who would simultaneously teach and make fun of him when playing pool.

Bob: Come on, Rooster, not the hair (Bob rolled his eyes as Bradley ruffled his hair) Bradley: Awww, you're taking after Jakey, caring about your hair so much. Bob: Well, we actually want to look presentable (scrunches his nose at Bradley's Hawaiian shirt) Bradley: How rude.

Jake: The forcibly responsible, yet ignored middle-child, being given 2 older brothers who are protective of him, and finally gives him the chance to be free.

Jake is the middle child, have two older siblings and one younger sibling. His parents were neglectful, did not care enough.

He and his siblings used to be tight, but due to circumstances falls apart.

His older brother is a Navy SEAL, but suffers from PTSD, when he's on leave, he gets into trouble and drinks too much. He has to bail his brother out a couple of times.

His older sister began to be distant, he doesn't know where she is, she sends money and calls every now and then, but she started a new life. Whenever Jake asks for help, she refuses, claiming that Jake is strong and smart enough, that he can do it. (Jake simultaneously can't blame her and is resentful of her)

His younger sister needs financial support since she's just a teenager, she's in college right now and Jake is extremely proud of her. Just lonely as well. She's doing well for herself, Jake wants to protect her innocence. He acts more like her dad than their dad ever was.

Jake always has to be the rock, steady and strong. He's just tired.

He's a twenty-something, and he wants to be a twenty-something, careless and free. Fuck up and have fun every once in a while.

Then Bradley and Bob comes in.

He can't help but allow himself to play around with them, mess with them, tease them. They make him let his guard down, it's fun being around them, he's not responsible of them outside of being their teammate.

And they actually pay attention to him, and dote over him. He grumbles about them being overprotective or being too much of a mother hen, but he's sad whenever they hesitate to ruffle his hair, wondering if they were overstepping.

Maybe one day, he'll tell them about his family.

Jake (sinks 8-ball in): HAH! I won this game Bobert, pay up Bob (rolls his eyes as he pushes the cup of peanuts towards Jake): Eat up, you mean. Bradley (Ruffles Jake's hair): You gotta let him win once in a while. Jake (pouts): But how will he learn? And plus, how else would I be able to get some peanuts?

[roosterforme]

I feel like Bob would be really good at overstimulation because he's so patient. He'd have you naked and in tears, several orgasms deep before he even took his shirt off.

I'm going to pretend @attapullman sent this (but she'd never go nonny about Bob), because I wrote this little ficlet as a birthday treat in response to this sexy thought. Happy birthday, Morgan!

I Need a Minute (Bob Floyd x Reader)

contains smut, fingering, adult language, overstimulation and confident Bob

Your boyfriend was not someone to mess with. You knew that for a fact. Sure, he looked sweet and innocent in his wire rimmed glasses and unassuming shirts, but inside, he was a thinker. A planner. Someone who took all the time necessary to make a decision and formulate a plan. And in your case, he was currently working on exacting his revenge.

Anyone else would have a hard time reading it on his face, but you knew him well enough to notice the soft twitch of his lips and the subtle glances he was sending your way. It was your own fault for the way you teased him at the diner, sliding your hand up inch by inch beneath the napkin that was spread out on his lap until you got to the sweet spot. While you casually talked to all of his aviator friends, you stroked him slowly through his jeans. As you laughed with Mickey and Javy, you gave him a little squeeze just to hear his soft grunt.

When everyone started to stand up, Bob was blushing as he said, "I need a minute." And you left him high and dry, climbing out of the oversized booth and making a mad dash for Natasha's car while Bob tried to hide what you did to him.

As you traipsed across the sandy beach with everyone else, Bob finally reached for your free hand. "Why don't we spread our blanket out over here?" he asked, tugging you to a stop. "The fireworks would be starting up in just a few minutes," he added. "We should get settled in."

He seemed completely calm, so you shook out the beach blanket and curled up with him so you were sitting between his legs. "Are you comfy?" you asked him over your shoulder, and he kissed the tip of your nose, making you smile.

"Very," he promised, and you turned to face the ocean just as the first red, green and orange fireworks lit up the sky. Even though you were wearing his Naval Academy sweatshirt over your sundress, you shivered as he whispered, "I'm about to be a lot more comfortable than you."

"What?" you gasped, realizing that everyone else was sitting in front of you. There was nobody watching as Bob gently pulled your legs further apart and kissed the side of your neck. Nobody noticed a damn thing when he tugged the fabric slowly up your legs and ran his thumb along your underwear, sending you scooting back against him. "What are you doing?" you whined softly, giving yourself away.

His fingers paused on the thin strip of cotton hiding your pussy from him. "Oh. You want this, huh?" When you nodded, dazed eyes focused on the fireworks, he kissed your earlobe. "You say that now."

One long finger slipped inside the elastic band of your underwear, and you gasped his name. Bob let his digit glide slowly up and down your slit while he made casually offhand comments like, "The green fireworks are my favorite. Did you know they are made out of barium salts?" Your only response was to moan a little louder, and he didn't stop you. The loud booming sounds blocked out your whines and breathy gasps as he slipped that finger inside you, lazily fucking you with it while his thumb found you clit.

He punctuated every thrust with a little swirl of his thumb, varying the speed as he went. You tried desperately to fuck yourself on that long finger, but he held you in place with his other hand. You were playing his little game now, and you knew it would be a little while before you came. 

His lips worked at your neck until you could feel a bruise forming. His teeth grazed your skin softly when you started to hiccup. You found out the hard way that the city of San Diego put on a glamorous thirty minute fireworks display for holidays, and Bob teased you for twenty-eight of them. Your breathing was so loud as he pumped his hand beneath your dress and whispered, "You want to come, don't you? You want to soak my hand even more, huh?"

"Bob!" you begged loud enough that one of the others must have heard, but Bob just kept slowing his pace until you felt tears in your eyes. Your makeup was probably a mess. Sweat broke out on your brow. But he just slowed down until he was gently tapping your pussy with his fingers.

"Ask me really nicely."

"Please, Bob!" Your voice broke on the words as he rammed two fingers deep inside you and stroked your clit with his thumb. The grand finale of fireworks blasted across the sky as you finally came, eyes closed and back arched. You didn't care who saw you like this as long as you got the relief you needed.

He kissed that tender spot behind your ear and whispered, "You're lucky I'm so nice," as you rolled your hips against the heel of his hand. And then he was slipping it back out of your panties and tugging your dress into place as everyone around you started to collect their things. When he stood up and looked down at you, he smirked as you sprawled out on your back, your limbs completely boneless. "You ready to go?" he asked with his hands on his hips.

"I need a minute."

[demxters]

—LOVING YOU IS TREACHEROUS

frat!jake seresin x f!reader

dagger squad college!au

summary: jake realizes there's more to his feelings for you than just pure attraction or the moment jake realizes he's falling in love

wc: 1.7k

warning(s): 18+, fem!reader, no y/n (reader goes by nickname ace), a little angst, swearing, bad parental relationships, mentions of vomiting, and drinking

part of the loving you universe || find it on ao3 here

FEEDBACK, COMMENTS, AND REBLOGS ARE ENCOURAGED AND APPRECIATED!

Things are different now. You are different now. Not in a bad way, you suppose. Just different. You’re more social, more outgoing, you feel more at peace with yourself. To think that it’s all because of a group project. 

Never would you have thought that a randomized group project would lead you to your newfound friends. Never would you have thought they would be Frat boys. Bradley Bradshaw and Jake Seresin somehow wormed their way into your little friend group, bringing Javy Machado and Reuben Fitch with them. Suddenly, your little group of five became nine. You used to think you’d hate it, but now you wouldn’t have things any other way. 

Even Jake Seresin, who you found absolutely infuriating, added something to the dynamic of the group. Despite your clear distaste for him, it just wouldn’t be the same without him. 

You couldn’t explain it, but you felt complete. Had you told yourself five months ago that you’d become friends with Delta Chi’s most notorious you would have laughed in your own face. Never, in a million years, did you think that would ever happen. Yet here you were, spending your Saturday night in your apartment playing board games and drinking (they were drinking, you were supervising) with your expanded group.

“I call bullshit! That’s a hit!” Javy drunkenly slurs at Bob who holds his hands up with clear offense. 

Bob pushes his glasses up the slope of his nose. His flushed skin and pink tipped ears are a tell tale sign that he is intoxicated. “Is not!” 

Javy shakes his head vigorously. “Is to! Let me see that,” he clumsily reaches over towards Bob’s Battleship board. Javy’s lack of coordination sends the board flying, along with the rain of tiny red and white playing pieces that scatter across the living room. 

The room erupts in a chorus of shouts and groans upon the inevitable clean up of the game and you sigh from your place on the couch. “I think that’s enough of that for tonight.” You wipe your palms on the fabric of your pants before bringing yourself to a stand.

Carefully maneuvering around your friends who are now scattered all across the room picking up little red and white bullets, you gather the last of stray cups of alcohol that was left on the coffee table. 

“Hey!” Bradley catches sight of you whisking away their stash for the night. 

“Nope, no more drinks for tonight.” Bradley opens his mouth in protest as you continue, “Unless you want to spend the rest of the night cleaning the apartment of the mess you guys made.” 

The pointed look you give him makes his mouth snap shut and he sends you a mock salute before clumsily going back to picking up stray playing pieces. 

“Thank you,” you chide, sauntering over to the kitchen. You laugh at the sound of your friends’ overlapping chatter and Natasha’s mothering as she commands the boys to quit stalling and clean. 

There was no denying that your apartment was loud. Louder than it should be for ten o’clock at night. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care about quieting your friends down. You’ve spent so long living in silence that you embrace the sounds of joy and laughter that surround you. 

Silence isn’t unfamiliar to you. You grew up as an only child in a big house with emotionally absent parents. Silence was the only thing you ever knew. Then it wasn’t. 

You found a new home, a new family. One you wouldn’t give up for anything. 

You were too deep in your own musings to notice the faint footsteps creeping up behind you. 

“You missed a few,” a deep voice from behind you makes your heart jump. 

You almost drop the cups in your hand as you spin on your heel to see Jake Seresin standing in front of you with a few more glasses in hand. 

Your shoulders drop from your ears once you get a hold of your surroundings. “Geez, Seresin! You almost scared me half to death.” 

He winces at your wide eyes, biting his bottom lip to stifle the smile that threatens to cross his face. “Sorry,” he shrugs, stepping in front of you to place the cups on the counter behind you. 

You’re unsure whether or not he decided to step into your space intentionally. Either way, he was close enough for your chests to touch. The thought set your cheeks on fire, causing you to shove his arm away with a scoff. “Ever heard of personal space, Hangman?” 

Rather than the witty retort you were expecting out of him, Jake mumbles a soft apology before stepping back to keep an arm's length between you two. 

The silence that follows is unsettling. You realize that you have never been alone with Jake for longer than a few minutes at a time. When you were working on the group project together, Bradley was always around. The one time you tried to help him study for his American History final, you fell asleep halfway into your study session, cutting it short. For some reason you didn’t know how to act around him in any way other than hostile. 

You were glad he fought you back with just as much fire. It kept the strange feelings in your stomach at bay. 

The way he was looking at you now, however, this was different from the Jake you were so used to seeing. There was no puff to his chest or arrogance in his gaze. Only softness and dare you say, ease in his posture. 

“They’re showing the Twilight movies at the theaters this weekend if you were interested in going,” Jake breaks the silence. 

It takes you a moment to comprehend what he’s saying or to even realize that he’s talking to you. You thought Natasha must have stumbled her way into the kitchen but you glanced around to see no one but you two still there. You could no longer hear the noise being made by your friends in the living room. It was like all your senses had suddenly attuned to the man in front of you. The only thing you were aware of was him. You stutter embarrassingly over your words as you respond. “Oh, you mean wi–with you?” 

Jake’s eyes grow wide before he shakes his head. “No, well, yeah if you want to. I wasn’t trying to imply that you should go with me or anything. You could go with anyone you want. Doesn’t have to be me, I just thought that you’d like to know since you’re such a huge fan of the series.” 

Jake wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole right now. Smooth, Seresin, he scolds himself. Just when he thought he might have been reaching some middle ground with you, he had to go and make it weird by making you think he was asking you out. Not that he was opposed to the idea, rather that he wanted to ask you out the right way. Not while he was slightly tipsy in your kitchen. 

Your lips twitch unexpectedly, pulling upwards at the corners. There was something about seeing this side of Jake Seresin–the nervous, rambly side of him– that you found endearing. You preferred him more than the cocky, self centered frat boy he usually was. “How did you know I like the Twilight series?” 

He shrugs nonchalantly, a proud smile over taking his worried features. “You aren’t the only one who pays attention to things, Ace.” 

You put your hands up in surrender with light laughter, shaking your head softly. “Sorry, I’m just surprised that Jake Seresin pays attention to things other than sorority girls and himself.” 

“I pay attention to you,” the words just almost fall from his lips. Instead what comes out is, “And football. I pay attention to football too.” 

You snort, crossing your arms across your chest with a smirk. “Right, sorority girls, yourself, and the Dallas Cowboys.” 

“You got it, sweetheart,” he winks. 

The corner of his mouth lifts slightly when he winks and you find it absolutely amusing. A small fit of giggles erupt from you causing him to tilt his head with confusion. 

“What’s so funny, Ace?” he questions with his hands on his hips. 

His own lips quirk up as he tries not to laugh, finding your own incredibly contagious. That and he couldn’t help but think of just how much he loved seeing you this way. So open and carefree. 

Love. That isn’t the first time the word has popped into Jake’s head when he thought of you. It was, however, the first time he truly welcomed the thought. 

It wasn’t like in the movies, where the main character has this big revelation that they're in love. Rather, it slowly crept up on him. Always being in the back of his mind, but never clear enough for him to make out what it was exactly he was feeling. 

But things have changed lately, he has changed. You made him want to be better. 

You two weren’t close, far from it actually. But he wants to get close to you. He wants to be someone worth your time. He wants to be able to have more moments like this  with you. 

He was willing to prove that he was no longer the immature playboy you think he is. 

The question is on the tip of his tongue. Maybe he should just take this as an opportunity to ask you out. He opens his mouth, ready to take the leap when—

“Bradley!” Natasha shouts from the living room. “Ace, can you grab the Clorox? Bradley just threw up on the floor!” 

Mickey moans, “I think I might be next!”

You curse under your breath sending Jake a look he reciprocated with a tired sigh. 

“Well, looks like we’re on babysitting duty,” you weakly smile. 

He nods halfheartedly, watching you grab the wipes before hurrying out to the living room. His chest physically hurt as he watched you walk away. He was so close. However, he knew his feelings would have to wait. 

The old Jake didn’t do commitment or girlfriends. The old Jake didn’t fall in love. 

The new Jake was falling hard, and he was falling fast. He had a feeling things were only going to get more complicated from here. He doesn’t mind it, though. In fact, he kind of likes it. 

a/n: i genuinely feel like not many people read my work on here anymore but i've missed these two so much i had to post. as usual, if you made it this far, my inbox is always open and thank you for reading! :D

tgm taglist: @joaquinwhorres @harrycherrylove @smoothdogsgirl @t-nd-rfoot @dempy @ollyoxenfrees @averyhotchner @2guysonascooter @loveforaugust @blue-aconite @fandom-life-12 @stiles-banshees @iamdannyday @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @breezemood @eli2447 @angelbabyange @finelytaylored @pono-pura-vida @hecate-steps-on-me @blueoorchid @aviatorobsessed @blackwidownat2814 @hallecarey1 @averagereader35 @laneylovesglen @atarmychick007 @kajjaka @urfavelocagirl @clancycumber230 @memeorydotcom @kmc1989 @percysaidnever @thestarspangledcaptain @wkndwlff @shanimallina87 @dracosluvbot

[shadowsndaisies]

the hard deck: too observant to play dumb (pt 1)

wc: 1.7 k

synopsis: how the arrival at the hard deck went

main masterlist

athena-verse master post

a/n: hey yall! so fun fact it has been 8 years since I started this blog, and as a little thank you, I have a 3 part update to the athena-verse, the whole thing comprises the hard deck scene from the beginning of the movie and will end basically where athena settles debts starts. as always I hope you enjoy, and let me know if you want to be added to the tags!

You'd been standing with Jake and Javi when Nat finally walked in.

"Athena! I've been looking for you!" she shouts, pulling your attention away from the pool table you'd just set up with Javi.

"Oh shit, sorry 'Nix," you offer a half smile.

"Answer your god damn for when I call you," she groans, pointing menacingly at you.

"Yes, Ma'am," you mock salute before noticing the two men behind her. "Looks like you made new friends just fine though," you offer jokingly.

"Payback, Fanboy. Meet Athena, smoothest flier you'll ever see," Phoenix introduces, and you smile warmly at your friend before offering your hand to the two behind her.

"Nice to meet you fellas," you greet.

"High praise coming from Phoenix," Fanboy notes, shaking your head.

"Highest of the high, actually," Payback adds on.

"Yeah, well, there's almost no one I'd rather have on my wing than 'Nix," you compliment back. You were going to ask how they knew your friend, but someone else interrupted you before you could.

"Yo, are we playing or what?" you roll your eyes as you turn back to where Jake and Javi are standing and gesture to the three in front of you; you realize Jake is hunched over the table, lining up his next shot.

"I'm playing nice, Seresin. You should try it," you prod, and Javi manages a slight smirk at Jake.

Jake looks up and makes eye contact with you while landing a ball in a corner pocket, and you can't help but roll your eyes again, cocky bastard. When he straightens, he finally notices what has caught your attention. "Well, what do we have here? If it ain't Phoenix, and she found new friends," he smirks, walking around the table in your direction. "And here I thought we were special Coyote. Turns out the invite went out to anybody."

It's almost like a switch is flipped, you realize, watching as Jake now interacts with others. Cocky attitude inflating his ego in a way that was so Hangman but not necessarily Jake. Nat didn't believe you when you tried to explain that you saw past it, and that's why you were friends. She was confident in her reading, which fair, especially when he acted like this.

"Fellas this here is Bagman," she introduces, and you can already tell it's going to be a long detachment spent between your two friends, especially since they hate each other.

"Hangman," he corrects, tone slightly barbed.

"Whatever," Phoenix makes a face at him and rolls her eyes when she looks at you as if to say, C'mon Athena, don't you see what I'm talking about? "You're looking at the only naval aviator on active duty with a confirmed air-to-air kill," she adds on, turning back to Jake.

Your eyes narrow at the compliment-like a statement; however, you don't trust it for a second.

Hangman smiles, "Stop," he muses as he settles down beside you, bumping your shoulder with his as he does, full of pride like a peacock strutting his feathers.

"Mind you, the other guy was in a museum piece from the Korean War," she clarifies, and you nod; you felt this was where she was taking it.

"Cold War," Coyote corrects, always one to back up his friends.

"Different wars, same century," Payback interjects.

"Not this one," Fanboy tacks on.

"Who're your friends?" Coyote asks, eyes dancing over the two on either side of Phoenix.

"Payback."

"Fanboy."

Both aviators introduce themselves with a simple nod, and you can't hide your smile of amusement. The testosterone was off the charts, and Nat was leading the bunch.

"Hey Coyote," she greets, eyes darting to Javi, and you fight the smirk at the look in her eye.

"Hey," he greets, dragging out the 'ey' a bit, and your eyes dart over to Jake just to find a knowing look already focused on you.

"Who's he?" Nat asks, nodding to the side.

"Who's who?" Coyote's brows had furrowed down, and then Nat turned to look at the quiet Aviator in glasses who'd been munching on peanuts while you played pool.

"When did you get in?" Coyote's voice floats over from behind you as you take a moment to observe your silent comrade.

"Oh, oh I've been here the whole time," he admits, and your brow quirks, and quickly you turn to look over at Jake.

"Man's a stealth pilot," you muse gently, and even Nat cracks a smile.

"Literally," Coyote nods.

"Weapons systems officer, actually," he corrects, and your lips twitch; he's adorable, you decide immediately.

"With no sense of humor," Jake huffs out.

You elbow him, and he gasps before standing and handing off the pool cue to Nat.

"What do they call you?" you ask, voice sweet.

"Bob," he answers, offering a hesitant smile in response to your wide one.

"No, your call sign," Payback clarifies.

He seems to hesitate, "uh.." he trails for a second, and you can read the nervous energy easily. "Bob," he repeats, and you frown a bit at the cautious undertones of his voice.

"Bob Floyd?" Nat asks. "You're my new backseater? From Leemore?" her tone had turned a bit incredulous. The smothered chortles from Payback and Fanboy were not nearly as covert as they seemed to think it was, based on the glares Nat was sending them.

"Looks like it, yeah," Bob confirms, and that nervous undertone is still there.

Nat pauses and looks at you. You tilt your head knowingly, and she nods, turning to the back seater.

"Nine ball, Bob. Rack 'em."

"Uh.. kay, yeah," he nods, standing and taking the pool cue outstretched in Natasha's hand.

You pat your friend's shoulder knowingly before turning to look for Jake. You spot him at the bar and start walking that way. You pause, though, when you see him talking to Penny, and then you realize who was on the other side of her and, most likely, who had just caused the bell to ring. Leave it to your dad to piss off the woman who loved him through his worst and best without even trying.

You're so focused on watching the interaction at the bar you miss it when he walks in.

"Bradshaw! That you?" Nat's voice rings out over the noise of the bar. It's only now starting to get busy, and you can't help the way your head snaps over to him.

You'd knew he'd be here. He said as much in his email, but being confronted by him and the past you avoided was something you decided then and there that you weren't ready for.

You're stuck, frozen, watching him interact with Phoenix.

"This is how I find out you're stateside?" she asks before lining up to take her next shot.

"Yeah I thought I'd surprise you," he responds with an easy camaraderie that you hadn't realized existed with the woman you considered to be one of your closest friends these days.

He's looking around the bar, not having spotted you yet, when Nat lets out a hum, taking her shot. Obviously, she lands another in the pocket; this was Phoenix we're talking about. She manages to hit Bradley in the gut with the end of the pool cue, forcing him to keel over a bit.

A petty and vindictive piece of you takes pleasure in that. But another piece, a little girl, she aches for the easygoing relationship and the best friend she once had.

"Guess I surprised you back," she smirks, facing Bradley.

He nods at her, "it's good to see you," he manages to huff out, slowly standing back up.

"It's good to see you too," she smiles, and he lays a gentle hand on her shoulder, and you have to turn back around.

You're counting your breaths again, focusing on what you can see, touch, hear, taste, and smell. You realize too late that Jake's analyzing you. He'd seen how you stiffened up and focused on the interaction, and he saw how you forced yourself to turn around, away from Bradley.

He grabs the beers Penny offers him and a glass of something else, says something to Penny, you think, and then turns back, walking toward you. He places the glass in your hand with a whispered "G&T."

"Thanks," you manage to spit out.

"Where's your head?" he asks, voice still low, and you know that right now, no one is paying attention to the two of you.

"A little too far off the ground," you admit; it wasn't worth the effort to lie to Jake; generally, he saw through it anyway.

You notice how his eyes dart past you, looking at Brad and Nat, but he doesn't ask you about it. Instead, he asks, "What do you need?"

"Time machine?" you ask, eyes finally meeting his straight on instead of jumping around like they had been. He was good at that, asking the right questions; probably a perk of learning how to piss everyone off is also knowing when to pull back.

"Fresh out, I'm afraid," the drawl in his Texan accent always appeared early in the morning and late at night, but also when he drank. Your favorite appearance was in the whispers when he talked low, and it just tended to bleed into every word; it made you think of Jake the football star, Jake the kid who grew up on a ranch, a version of the man before you, you never got to meet.

"Then I guess I'll have to just… manage," you muse sourly.

"You always tend to do better than just manage, 'Thena," he reminds you.

"I don't know about that, at least not this time," you admit.

"This got something to do with Bradshaw?"

"You're too observant to play dumb," is how you answer.

"What, is this a kiss and not tell situation?" There's a cloud in the green of Jake's eyes as he asks, and you're tempted to answer, but quite honestly, you weren't sure if there was a statute of limitations on don't kiss and tell, and you're not sure if your first kiss when you were 13 counts.

"No, it's a different kind of history," is what you actually say. "I'll be okay, you go on though, I just need a minute," you urge.

Jake hesitates, not at all sold on what you'd said, but slowly, he takes a step forward and then another until he's approaching the pool table again.

...

everything: @butterfly-skinnylegend

athena’s tags: @omgbrianab @smoothdogsgirl @bazellawriz @sbrewer21 @inky-sun @djs8891 @rory-cakes

[mackenzielovee]

protection (3) — ari levinson

summary: Ari and your father have been business partners for ages, and it seems that he doesn't care for you. This doesn't stop you from trying; scheming to make the older man fall for you the same way the rest of your father's men have, too.

pairing: dbf! ari x reader

warnings: mentions of blood, death, guns, violence, smut (kissing, grinding, sexual language/content)

wc: 3.2k

masterlist | navigation | series masterlist

     For hours, you feel too humiliated to even try to venture out of your room. You try not to think about how Ari made you feel — how he tested you, embarrassed you, but made it seem as if he was doing it all for your safety. 

Your mind reels as you try to figure it all out. Figure him out. Eventually, you resign to thinking you never will. That doesn’t mean you’re willing to stop trying to get to him. 

It’s dark out when you decide to venture down the stairs. You can hear your father and his men in his office, and your skin crawls at the thought of facing Ari again today. You’re sure you’ve pushed him far enough, and maybe, just maybe, it would be wise not to push any further.

You hurry across the house and into the kitchen; socks sliding against the glossy wood floors. You’d taken a bath, just as your father suggested, then put on black shorts and an oversized tee shirt you’d stolen from an ex-boyfriend. 

Your stomach growls, and you begin to dig through the fridge in hopes of finding something; leftovers, microwavable meals, or even just something to snack on.

“There’s pasta on the top shelf.”

You tense and spin around, finding Javier standing on the opposite side of the kitchen, watching you. Even in the darkness that surrounds you, you can make out a cut on his bottom lip and a bruise around his eye. 

“Javi,” you breathe, “What happened to your face?”

“Ari,” he replies, then looks to the floor, “You okay?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you,” he nods, “I’ve never gotten used to being shot at. Even in my line of work. I can’t imagine how much it must have rattled you.”

You swallow, but you suddenly realize that there’s no pang in your chest. There’s no hear sunken feeling; no dread, anxiety, fear, or anything. You just feel numb. Before now, you hadn’t even realized the lack of emotions you felt about the day — unrelated to Ari and his behavior. 

“I’m fine,” you squeak, and it’s obvious Javier doesn’t believe you. 

“Well, I’ll be here when you’re not,” he promises. 

You frown, “He hit you?”

Javier finally allows himself to look at you now, then nods once to answer your question. 

“Three times,” he explains, “It’s not a big deal.”

You shake your head defiantly and flip on the kitchen light, then walk over to where Javier stands. You notice him looking you up and down, but you don’t call attention to it. 

“He can’t just hit you and get away with it,” you mumble, “Especially after he had a gun to your head.”

Javier smirks, “I’m fine, bonita. Truly.”

“I should give him a piece of my mind,” you grunt, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“No, you shouldn’t,” Javier chuckles. 

You open your mouth to speak, but the sound that travels through the air makes your blood stop cold in your veins. 

“Give who a piece of your mind?”

Javier’s smile falls and he immediately steps back from you, tucking his hands into the pockets of his dress pants. You spin slowly, coming face to face with Ari for the first time in mere hours. His glare is harsh and his jaw is clenched as he looks between you and Javier. Like a wave, the fear washes over you. It registers immediately that you only seem to feel anything when Ari’s in the vicinity — even if those feelings aren’t good ones. 

His gaze is strong as he stares at you, seemingly begging for you to try him. Again. You inhale deeply, then shake your head. 

“Nobody,” you mumble. 

He nods, but his jaw ticks victoriously, “Javier, get the car ready. We’re leaving in ten minutes.”

“Yes sir,” Javier replies automatically, stealing one quick glance at you before adding, “Goodnight, Miss Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Javi,” you whisper. 

The room falls silent, but it seems that Ari finds comfort in that. He leans up against the doorframe and crosses his arms, following in Javier’s steps and not bothering to hide the way he looks you up and down. The idea of him looking at you that way makes you squirm, and you let it show. 

He smirks as you fidget with your hands, doing your best to avoid his eyes. 

“Are you still mad at me?” you ask, your voice sounding weak and powerless compared to his. 

“Yes,” he replies, “Are you still mad at me?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, finally daring to meet his eyes. Your heart feels like it’s burning up in your chest when he looks at you, and your mind races as you try to figure out why Ari has such an impact on you. 

“Yes,” you mumble. 

He nods, “I’m not going to apologize.”

“Neither am I.”

You watch as his lips tip up, but he lets the expression fall. Then, he takes a step forward, then another, watching as you move back. He continues his pursuit forward until your back meets the counter, trapping you in.

“I’m not asking you to,” he rasps. 

Your throat is suddenly dry, and all you can smell, all you can see, is him. He’s too close, and every alarm bell you’ve ever had is blaring inside of you. Instead of moving, you allow him to take the remaining steps to you, then set his hands on the counter on either side of your body. He’s caging you where you stand, maintaining eye contact and showing no fear. 

“Are you flirting with me, Mr. Levinson?”

You know it’s a risk, but it’s your plan. To lure him in. You count yourself victorious, given that it’s only been one day, and he’s already so close. You refuse to show fear, even though your heart is racing out of your chest. Calm, cool, collected. Make him sweat. 

“Like you’ve been flirting with me?” he counters, raising a brow. When you don’t answer, he dips his head down, requesting an answer and adding, “Huh?”

“Maybe,” you answer shyly. 

His smirk widens, and you swear he moves even closer to you before he stands up straight, nodding in approval when you follow him with your eyes. 

“What, you’re gonna play the game and then get all shy?” he teases, “I’m falling for it, sweetheart.”

You furrow your brow, “Falling for what?”

“For your little game,” he shrugs, his hand dragging along the counter and ghosting over your waist, “You’re clearly in desperate need of attention. You’re upset because your Daddy doesn’t give you enough—”

You shove him then, realizing Ari’s playing his own game that you don’t know anything about. He chuckles dryly and stumbles back, but catches himself and recovers quickly.

“Fuck you, Ari,” you say. 

He laughs dryly, “You ought to know better than to speak to me like that.”

“I’m speaking to you like this because you’re being an asshole,” you fire back, “I’m not desperate, and I don’t have Daddy issues.”

Ari snorts, “Okay, sure. And I’m not about to go shoot a guy in the head for looking at you the wrong way today.”

Your eyes widen at those words. Ari shakes his head and runs a hand through his beard, sighing with frustration as you stand in front of him. Motionless and fearful. 

“You’re going to kill him?” you ask quietly.

“He tried to kill you,” he replies instantly. 

You grow quiet at that; unwilling to beg for a man’s life when Ari’s standing in front of you like this. He radiates strength and power, and even though a small part of you is afraid of him, a bigger part is squirming because of how much he makes you feel. 

The idea of Ari killing the man from the street today brings a pit to your stomach, but not for the reason it should. 

“What if he tries to kill you first?” you question. 

His smirk returns, “Then, I guess you’ll be free to run off into the sunset with your precious Javi.”

You look up at him, but you don’t verbally respond. He licks his lips as he stares down at you, both of you feeling as if silence is a better communicator than words. 

He doesn’t step back, doesn’t attempt to move or give you more space. He merely remains still, remains focused, and leaves the next move up to you. You know you shouldn’t take it — not after what he said about you having Daddy issues and essentially calling you desperate. But, you can’t help yourself. He’s right there in front of you, and you justify your action by telling yourself that it’s all part of getting the big, bad Ari Levinson to fall to his knees. 

He freezes when you press the palm of your hand to his broad chest — clearly not expecting this in the slightest. He’s warm, you think, and strong. Your lips tip up as you feel the power come back to you.

“You’ll be careful, won’t you, Mr. Levinson?” 

He swallows, not daring to move a muscle. Your smirk widens as he works to form a response, although his eyes never leave yours. 

“No,” he answers, stepping closer and drawing your palm further up his chest, “Not with the motherfucker who tried to kill you today.”

Your insides burn as you imagine what Ari is capable of. Even so, you don’t bother dropping your hand. 

“I’ll wait for you to come home,” you whisper, watching his eyes drop to your lips, “You’ll need someone to clean you up, right?”

You watch every thought fall from his head except for one. Mindlessly, Ari nods. You smirk, knowing you have him right where you want him.

Until you don’t.

All at once, Ari snaps right back into it — and it takes you too long to realize that he never lost control at all. With his hand placed lightly around your throat, he pulls you away from the counter and over to the pantry door. He roughly sets you up against it and boxes you in again, then leans down so that his lips are only inches from yours. 

“That’s real cute,” he murmurs. 

You swallow roughly, gasping when he presses his body up against yours. The entire facade slips, and all you can think about is how close he is, how good he smells, and how much you want him. 

“What is?” you ask breathlessly. 

“You,” he replies, “Thinking you can play with me. You should know better, baby.”

Frantically, you shake your head, the feeling of being in trouble somehow clouding your judgment. You’ve forgotten the game, and all you can think about is him. 

“I do,” you whisper. 

He raises a brow, “You do, huh?”

“Mhm,” you hum, leaning closer. 

He grins, “Prove it.”

Ari pulls his head back when you rise on your tip-toes, desperate to prove it to him in any way possible. You can’t seem to think of anything besides kissing him, feeling him, being this close to him. 

“Ari,” you whine, trying to tug him in by the end of his shirt. 

You watch the look in Ari’s eyes change as you say his name, and for a moment, you think that’s the key. The answer. Just say his name, and he’ll look at you like he’s ready to drop to his knees. You’re sure he almost does, but stops when he hears your father’s office door open down the hall. His voice is faint, but the sound of his Italian loafers against the wood floor tells you he’s coming to the kitchen. 

“I’ll come back when he’s dead,” Ari whispers to you, “I can’t fucking think straight knowing he’s out there thinking about you like that.”

You bite your lip to hide a smile, then run your hand down his chest. He groans deeply, but doesn’t stop you. 

“Will you bring me back a souvenir?”

Ari’s jaw ticks, “If there’s anything left of him.”

You smile, and so does Ari. Your father rounds the corner just as Ari takes three large steps back, not breaking eye contact with you for a second. 

“Oh, hello, my love,” your father greets you, “What are you doing up so late?”

You give your father a convincing smile, “I just needed a snack.”

He steps over to you and kisses your forehead, clearly unsuspecting. Javier leans in the doorway of the kitchen, but you can’t find it in you to look at him. He’d left you alone with Ari several minutes ago, and you still haven’t come any closer to making something to eat. 

“Eat whatever you’re hungry for, darling. We have some business to take care of tonight, but Vick will be in the house if you need anything, and Derek and Mateo are at the front gate. Get some good rest, okay?”

You nod, “Okay, Dad.”

He beams, then kisses your forehead once more. When he turns back to Ari and Javier, you allow your eyes to float back up. Ari’s watching you; fists clenched tightly at his side.

“Let’s get moving, boys,” he says. 

Javier nods and walks off without a word, and your father follows. Ari lingers, stealing one last glance at you before swallowing and turning his back. 

“Be careful, Mr. Levinson,” you say quietly, only for him to hear. 

He turns and raises a teasing brow, then licks his lips. You ignore the feelings that stir in your stomach. 

“Get some rest,” Ari says, repeating your father’s words before adding, “You’re going to need it.”

     Your mind doesn’t stop buzzing after Ari leaves. You’d watched him from the window as he climbed into the bulletproof, black SUV, dripping power and dominance with every step. He doesn’t look back, not even once, and you swear you can feel anxiety swirling at the thought of him not returning to the house. 

After they leave, you’re far too anxious to eat, so you end up wandering around the house. Vick stays in your father’s office, and you don’t even attempt to bother him. After an hour of deafening silence, you head back upstairs to your room, where you do your best to distract yourself. 

Around one o’clock in the morning, you fall asleep. Keeping your eyes open proves to be too difficult, and your head falls to the right as you sit up in your bed. 

     It’s not until almost four o’clock that you hear the doors slamming and the boots against the wood. Your father barks out orders, and the second you register his voice, your eyes go wide. If he’s home, that means Ari is, too. 

You scramble off your bed and over to your door, pulling it open without a second thought. You can hear your father talking downstairs, but it all fades quickly. 

Ari appears at the top of the stairs, and the breath escapes from your lungs. His eyes take their time traveling up, then down, and finally, he looks right at you. 

You take in his appearance; bruised and bloody knuckles, blood spatter on his face, neck, and shirt, and dirt covering the rest of him. He’s dirty, but you don’t care one bit. 

“Here,” he says gruffly, walking over to where you remain frozen, “A souvenir.”

Obediently, you hold your hand out and take what he offers without even considering what it might be. When you feel the cool metal touch your palm, you look down. 

“What is this?” you ask quietly.

“His wedding band,” Ari answers, emotionless, “He’s dead. You know what that means?”

You snort to yourself as you go through the possibilities he could say next. Even though you should be repulsed at the idea of holding a dead man’s wedding band, you’re not. Strangely, it’s because Ari gifted it to you. 

“What?” you whisper, looking back up at him. 

He steps closer and lowers his voice, “That means, the only man fantasizing about you tonight will be me.”

You don’t even have to think before you’re reaching for him, tracing over the dried blood on his shirt with your perfectly manicured finger. 

“You don’t have to fantasize.”

That seems to be all the permission Ari needs, because you’re not at all prepared for the way he steps forward and grabs you, picking you up and pushing your back against the wall in one quick motion. You grasp and lock your legs around his waist, then your arms around his torso. His mouth meets your jawline, neck, and collarbones, leaving traces of harsh, wet kisses and bite marks in their wake. His breath is hot on your skin, but you love the feeling more than you could ever describe. 

“I fucking knew it,” he groans into your neck, “Skin’s so fucking soft. You like teasing the fuck out of me, baby?”

“Mhm,” you hum, unable to form words, “Ari—”

“Shh,” he hushes you, pressing another kiss, then another, then another to your jaw and cheeks, “I’m gonna stand here and savor every bit, and you’re gonna let me. Understood?”

You grind your hips against his abs, and he pushes his midsection closer into you, forcing a moan from your throat. You let him do whatever he wants; doing exactly as he ordered you to do and remaining quiet and still for him. Your fingers comb through his hair and tug, which bring short groans out of his throat. 

It isn’t until he bites down on the right side of your neck that you let out a loud sound, a moan of his name, that he covers your mouth with his large hand. 

“Oh, baby,” he chuckles against your neck, “You want your Dad to hear how desperate you are for me? How willingly you spread your legs for his business partner?”

“Ari,” you whine, “Want you.”

“I want Javier to hear you,” he continues, ignoring your words and the way you grind against him, desperate for friction, “I want him to hear your weak little gasps every fucking time I touch you. He’s never heard them before, right, baby?”

“No,” you say immediately, “Don’t want Javi. Want you.”

“Aw,” he grins, his smile and his tone patronizing, “You’re so needy. You just want attention, huh?”

“Yes,” you pant. 

He grins, and you feel hopeful. You imagine him carrying you to your bedroom, stripping off every article of clothing, and keeping you in your bed until the sun comes up. You move closer, wanting to kiss him, but he pulls back. Just as you start to frown, he reaches around and unlocks your legs from his waist, then practically drops you onto the floor. 

“Don’t you dare forget this,” he says deeply, “How I can reduce you to fucking nothing in under five minutes. You think you hold the power with your little shorts and that fucking smile? Not a chance, baby.”

Your eyes widen and your lips form into a pout — Ari leaving you feeling embarrassed and humiliated for the second time today pushing you too far. 

“Ari?” you question, watching his smirk deepen. 

“Enjoy your souvenir,” he replies coldly, then turns away, “It’s the last one you’ll get from me for a while.”

He descends down the stairs without another glance or word, leaving you standing there, desperate, sad, and needy. You watch him go, and let the embarrassment settle in your chest. You’re not used to this — the feeling of being rejected or denied. Although Ari challenges you, no part of you wants to face these feelings. You wanted it to all be easy, and Ari Levinson is proving to be very, very difficult. Especially when it registers as you walk back into your bedroom that he didn’t even once kiss you on the lips.

a/n: i hope you enjoyed! leave me some feedback if you can or want to! reblogs are appreciated :)

*i no longer have a taglist , follow @mackupdates for updates!

[freshlyrage]

Ummm I made a mistake...

Okay yall I completely forgot to add an entire part of chpater 18 to my upload last night. It's now added but if you'd like to just read it alone it takes place just after Gina knocks on the door to Javi and Andrea's hotel room. Here is the full chapter

Sorry omg:

Javier briefly looks over his shoulder, realizing its a lost cause he couldn't see you this way. Gina stands in front of him, a hand running through her long black hair. She was beautiful, the most beautiful woman in the office. Javier felt a sense of pride for his goofy coworker who managed to pull someone like Gina. Javier had drunkenly asked her out on a date during a break with Lorraine and she had called him a baby, letting him down easy. He was burned at the moment but he appreciates it now because he wouldn't be here with you. Instead he'd drag another woman along his pathetic loop of secretly pining for you. She flashes her ring to him, its a shiny thing. Felipe, that bastard, made a significantly larger amount than Javier yearly. 

“Honestly amazing, I heard that Felipe told you. ” She beams, retreating her hand to her side. Her eyes peering behind you. 

Javier smiles, “Yes, congrats. He's a lucky man.” Feeling watched and uncomfortable with talking to any other woman other than you. What's gotten into him? Cant even have a friendly conversation with a woman. It's silent for a moment, she gives him an awkwards thin lipped smile before her lips cracking into a bashful smile. His brows furrow, “What?”

“Okay I hate to be nosy–but Felipe told me you came here with someone and I just wanted to… I don't know… extend out an invitation?” She exhales and crosses her arms. Javi’s brow arches. 

“Invitation?” He knows he should tone it down, if you were next to him right now he is sure you would have pinched and murmured something about being nice. You don't know that everyone is used to his stern ways, viejo, they called him in the office. Next to his list of other names.

“Yes um,” She chuckles nervously, Javier is shocked you haven't walked over and slapped him for making the poor woman nervous. “The wives are getting drinks at the patio bar while you all have your meeting, so–well unless you wouldn't want her–” Javier quirks a brow again, “Sorry– I’m just inviting the girl for some drinks.”

“I'd love to.” You call, Javier turns watching you adjust your dress strap as you stalk towards them from the corner of the room. He couldn't help but smile at you padding over with a sweet smile, nothing short of innocence. As expected you pinch his bicep while you smile at Gina. “What time are you heading down?”

Gina’s smile widens at the sight of you too, “Oh wow, you're so beautiful. In an hour.” 

Javier Looks between the two of you, watching your face light up at the complement. He should tell you that more, you absolutely shine at the gesture. Your cheeks are pink and shiny, “Oh gosh–thank you, I mean so are you. We should shower.” You look at Javi. His dick twitches at the suggestion. 

His voice died with his croak of, “Of course.”

Gina giggled, “Yeah… I'll leave you to it.” She waves goodbye and exits. 

Javier looks down at you with absolute adoration while you keep  a pondering grin on your face. You keep an indolent smile while you walk back towards the bed. Javi follows, peeling off his shirt while you take off your dress again leaving nude. Your breasts littered with tiny red bruises, nipples still swollen and peaked. Padding over to luggage placed on the dresser by the porters, you bend over to unzip the thing. Giving him a full view of your puffy lips, glistening still from his own seed. If he didn't have places to be he’d bend you over full and eat you out like this until you collapsed. “She seems really sweet.” You let out a pleased murmur once you find your towel. Your smile deepening once you turn to catch Javier staring at you, on an ego trip of him enjoying the view, you brush your hair behind your shoulders to give him a better view of your chest. 

He was absolutely obsessed with you. 

“She is, you showering with me?” He unbuckles his pants again, matching your bare body. You blush at the sight of him naked, he’s half hard again at the concept of you still being shy around his naked body when you had him slapping his cock onto your tongue just an hour ago. 

Your eyes are steady on his length but you resist, “Yes, no funny business. I'd like to be able to walk downstairs later.” You leave a small pat on his back as you make your way to the bathroom.

He follows like a lost puppy, he was hard but every thing you did turned him on so he couldnt be upset with you not wanting to fuck just yet. “Yes ma'am.”

You step up into the shower, leaving the glass door open for him. The bathroom was oddly pretty, tan mosaic tile lining up the floor, lights dim. The sound of pattering water fogging the room as he sets down his towel next to yours. You let out a moan once the water hits you, “I'll give you a hand job if you give me a neck rub. Fuck that car ride did a number on me, so did you fucking me doggy!” You shout over the water. Javi shakes his head and steps in. 

The sight of you with your head back, dripping in water is better than any other thing his sinful eyes have ever laid eyes on. 

“Deal.”

[gothcsz]

tbh i did initially have him chastising himself more for it in an original draft but cut it out bc i thought i was rambling too much 😫

Girl pls share the original draft because I need to read him telling himself he’s an asshole for doing that lmao like homeboy didn’t waste another second thinking of Paloma or regretting anything afterwards 😭 even when Paloma told him he hurt her with that, all he makes is a dumb comment (ik ik defence mechanism bc he knows she’s right and he can’t really accept that but still!!)

He’s just gotta stop making dumb excuses really. Like I’m definitely expecting him to make up for things with more than just “I’m sowwy 🥺” but I need him to admit to fucking things up and being a dumbass instead of excusing everything away and finding a reason for everything! And not just the whole thing with Sloane but in general all the shit he’s done to her!

His puppy dog eyes are really really reeeeeaaaallly hard to resist tho, I get it. But damn, he’s kinda obsessed with Paloma so she has the power. Hahahaha ah I’m excited to read how they will work things out but the ick is gonna take some time to go away again lmao

okay you convinced me to re-add/edit it to the end of chapter 12 😫 i took the feedback to heart and even added a few more things to really make that self realization impactful. i guess i should stop being so hard on myself when i write tbh because i cut out a lot by my final read. so that's on meeee. i just have a real bad tendency to yap and it gets to be repetitive sometimes !! like kat girl stfu !!

yeah our boy has a lot of stuff to make up for i fear.... but don't worry (: i've been thinking of different ways to put his desire to the test so if he REALLY wants to 'be with her' then... act. like. it. plain and simple.

now i cant sit here and say that she's going to reallllly make him work for it because, well.... :) DFKJHADFGSHJG she does have the power and javi will spend the rest of forever making it up to her i promise even after they actually become a thing (oop) and then all the shit that's gonna go down when we hit the climax of the fic :p

i could get lost in his eyes all day every day okay like... not arguing with a man with big beautiful sad cow eyes... whatever u say handsome!! i'm lowkey kinda stoked that i evoked such reaction out of u and potentially other readers 🤭 JKDHFSDF i'm sick and twisteddd... sick and freakin twisted!!!!

BUT WE WILL SEE THIS THROUGH! WE WILL OVERCOME THE ICK!

[drabbles-mc]

Don’t Worry

Javier Peña x F!Reader

Request by Anon:  Can I request a Javi/reader fic where they both refuse to admit their feelings for each other, but reader thinks she's doing a great job concealing health issues, but Javi starts to pick up on things (maybe she almost faints in the field), and he gets worried and realizes how much he cares for her? So he confronts her about hiding it from him, and she says she didn't want him to think she was weak?

Warnings: 18+, language, smoking, light angst

Word Count: 4.8k

A/N: Me?? Getting wrapped up in a request and making it far longer than necessary? It’s more likely than you think. Truly don’t know how we ended up almost at 5k, but I hope you enjoy! xo

Narcos Taglist: @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @garbinge​ @sizzlingcloudmentality​ @bruxasolta​ @winchestershiresauce​ @alm0501​ @panagiasikelia​ @616wilsons​ @hauntedforsst​ @mirabee​ @buckybarneshairpullingkink​ @boomclapxox​ @nessamc​​ @southotheborder​​ @supersanelyromantic​​ @padbrookcottage​​ (If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know!)

“Morning,” Javi’s voice snapped you out of your singular focus on the photographs that were in front of you.

Looking up at him, you flashed him a smile, “Morning.”

He set a small cup of coffee down on your desk, “You even go home last night?”

You laughed as you picked up the coffee, thankful for the comforting warmth seeping through the flimsy paper despite the fact that Colombia never had a shortage of heat, “I did. Pretty much just to shower and change my clothes, but I did go home.”

He chuckled, shaking his head, “You work too hard,” it was a light-hearted comment, but you could see the concern in his expression.

Ignoring that look in his eyes, you came back with as genuine of a smile as you could manage in your exhausted state and, “Yea, well, one of us around here has to.”

Whether that actually soothed his concern for the time being or he was just willing to pretend, you couldn’t tell. But he took his seat at his desk kitty-corner to yours. You got back to your work as he started on some of his own reports. The entire room was silent save for the sound of the clacking of Javier’s typewriter. Every now and then you’d look over to watch him, biting back a laugh at the look of intense focus on his face. Over the last few weeks, you’d gotten on his case a few different times about learning how to properly use the thing, but he always waved you off, saying he had way more important things to worry about than the proper positioning of his hands on a typewriter.

“Probably could’ve had those finished last night if you learned how to type faster,” you said, not peeling your eyes away from the pictures in front of you.

Even though you weren’t looking at him, you could still feel him staring at you, and you could just imagine the look of faux annoyance on his face. Try as he might, he couldn’t ever convince you that he was frustrated with you when he wasn’t—you had too much experience seeing him actually pissed off at other people to fall for the ruse.

“Then I’d have no excuse to come in early and see you,” he replied, a beat of stillness between you before he went back to typing.

A smile crept across your face and you tried to ignore the heat in your cheeks, “And here I was thinking you just wanted to be sweet and bring me coffee.”

Whether or not Javier had a response locked and loaded was irrelevant as Steve’s voice filled the air, “Javi never wants to be sweet and bring me coffee.”

“I think you both should be bringing me coffee for putting up with you,” you smiled, shaking your head as the two of them started to go back and forth with each other.

It was a quiet day. For as much as quiet days made it seem like there was no headway being made, you couldn’t pretend that the brief respite wasn’t much needed for you. You put on a good game face, but the constant late nights and early mornings, coupled with surviving on caffeine, alcohol, and nicotine weren’t doing anything to help the issues that you had coming into Colombia. You tried not to think about it, not wanting to harp on it or say anything to anyone that could jeopardize you sticking around, but you wondered how much more damage you were putting on yourself as the weeks went by. Changing up habits seemed so easy to do in theory, but nothing was consistent enough with work for you to get into a real routine.

Taking a slow, deep breath, you glanced over at the clock on the wall. Your eyes widened, unable to believe how quickly the day had gone by. It was well past dinner time now, and aside from the coffee that Javier had brought you, and a couple of the snacks that you kept stashed in your desk, you hadn’t had anything to eat all day. Your brain must’ve communicated directly with your stomach, because it let out an obscenely loud growl.

Steve had his headphones on, playing back a tape that had gotten dropped off earlier that evening, so he was blissfully unaware. Javier, however, didn’t miss a beat. He tried and failed to stifle his laughter, keeping his eyes glued to the paperwork in front of him.

You chuckled, “Can I help you, Javi?”

Shaking his head, he continued to peruse over his papers, although you doubted that he was even really reading any of it, “No, sounds like you should be helping yourself, though.”

You laughed, leaning back in your chair as you ran your hands over your face, “Yea, I guess I should get some real food to eat.”

“Gonna head out for the night?” he finally looked at you, a strangely hopeful look in his eyes at the prospect of you leaving and getting some rest.

After thinking it over for a few seconds, you gave a nod, “Yea, I might as well.”

Tossing the papers in his hand back onto his desk, he started to gather up his things, “I’ll walk out with you.”

Steve watched the two of you, still not able to hear what you were saying to each other. He couldn’t speak for you and how you felt, but he knew for a fact that Javier had feelings for you. Being stuck in the same little cluster of desks with both of you meant that he saw everything. Every time Javi stared at you a beat longer than necessary, every time he saw you smiling or heard you laughing and couldn’t help but to smile himself regardless of what mood he was in. Steve saw every little gesture and worried look that Javier had ever shot your way.

And, since he was the one stuck witnessing it all, he didn’t make any attempt to hide his thoughts and opinions from the man sitting across from him. In the rare moments when it was just the two of them instead of the three of you, Steve took every opportunity to press him about it. Javier always brushed it off, of course, but it didn’t stop Steve from being persistent about it.

Which is why, while your back was to them both as you headed towards the door, Steve gave a very pointed look between you and Javi, eyebrows raised ever so slightly. Javi knew what he was thinking, and even though Steve was 100% right, he still gave him the finger before grabbing his jacket and playing catchup to get to you.

There was a comfortable silence between the two of you as you made your way towards the parking lot. When it came to Javi, there was never any pressure to force a conversation, and that was something that was one of the most valuable aspects of a friendship for you. If you didn’t have anything to say, or just didn’t have the energy and wherewithal to converse, you didn’t want to feel like you had to suck it up and try anyway. Between the two of you, there had been a lot of silent walks, comfortably quiet cups of coffee, and the occasional shared late-night meal at your desks with minimal exchanges. The less you spoke, the better, for more than one reason. There were times when you felt like maybe there was more to be said and done about your relationship with Javi, but it wasn’t a sure enough thing for you to be the one to make the first move, and because of that, there were plenty of times when you almost slipped up and said something incriminating.

All of that to say, you felt Javier staring at you as the two of you made your way towards your cars, and part of you wanted to speak up and say something, but you stopped yourself. You knew he worried, and you chalked the worry up to him not wanting to lose a partner, not wanting to give yourself too much hope for anything deeper.

“Wanna grab dinner?” he tossed the question out as he fished his keys from his pocket.

It caught you a little off-guard, figuring that he just wanted to go straight home, “Sure?”

He chuckled, “Do you? Don’t sound so sure about that.”

“Sorry,” you laughed, shaking your head, “Just thought that maybe you’d want to get right home.” Truthfully, you were exhausted and wanted nothing more than to just curl up in your bed and fall asleep. You didn’t want to say that, though, not when he had already been giving you concerned looks. “Dinner sounds good,” you smiled and nodded.

Dinner wasn’t anything fancy—it never was with the two of you. It was cozy, though. Despite the late hour, there were a decent number still in the small, family-owned restaurant. Oddly enough the number of people gave you the illusion of privacy—everyone was too wrapped up with each other to bother looking at or thinking about the two of you. It was preferable for both of you that way.

Despite the fact that you felt about twenty times better once you ate something, you could still feel the nagging weight of exhaustion deep in your bones. You tried to push that fact from your mind as you reached for your glass of water, but you noticed the trembling in your hand as you did so. You tried to do it quickly, hoping that it would go unnoticed by the man sitting across from you. the furrow in his brows said that you had no such luck, but he didn’t say anything. You were going to take that as a win.

“I got this,” Javi gestured vaguely to the table as he flagged down the waitress to square up the bill.

You shook your head, reaching for your purse, “Javi, no. At least split it with me.”

He shook his head, “It’s fine. Next one is on you—get home and get some rest.” It was the closest he was going to get to addressing his concerns for you without actually having to say it.

As much as you wanted to press the argument, the thought of getting home and straight to bed was a thought that was too tempting to put off. Taking a deep breath, you nodded as you stood up, “Thank you. You said it yourself, though—next one is on me.”

He gave you a small smirk, “Alright.”

“Goodnight, Javi.”

“Night,” he flashed you a quick smile before you turned and started walking away.

You were halfway out the door when you heard the distinctive sound of a sat-phone going off. You paused, turning around to see Javier looking very confused as he answered his. You could barely hear what he was saying over the conversations of other people, but you saw the shift in his expression and all it said to you was that neither of you were going to be making it home to sleep anytime soon.

He looked up, glad to see that you had stopped in the doorway. He motioned for you to wait for him as he hung up the phone. He tossed a small stack of bills onto the table, definitely more than enough to cover both of your meals and a generous tip, before grabbing his jacket and making his way towards you.

“Good news?” you asked as the two of you hustled to your cars.

“Depends on your definition of good,” he let out a dry chuckle before gesturing towards his car, “Just ride with me. I’ll bring you back to your car after.”

“Yea?”

He nodded, “Yea. I drive faster anyway,” he shot you a smirk.

Rolling your eyes, you couldn’t help but to smile as you walked around to the passenger seat, “We gotta show up to this thing alive and in one piece, you know.”

“Don’t worry about that,” there was a glint in Javi’s eyes as he threw the car into drive.

As much as you liked to give Javi grief about his driving, he did get you both to the scene in record time. Steve was already there with Carrillo and a select group of men from the Search Bloc. You’d hardly stepped out of the car when Steve came over, throwing vests at the two of you. It was standard procedure for these types of things, but the abruptness of it still startled you for a moment.

You didn’t miss the look on Steve’s face as he registered that the two of you carpooled, but it clearly wasn’t the time or the place for him to make a comment about it. Getting himself together, he started to explain the entire situation to the both of you.

It wasn’t Escobar—you didn’t come into that kind of luck. But apparently they’d gotten a more than decent tip about the location of one of his top sicarios, and that wasn’t something any of you were in the position to be turning your noses up at. It was going to take weeding through a lot of Escobar’s network to get to him, and this would be a good step in the right direction.

“All good here?” Carrillo approached the three of you, his gaze scrutinizing as always. It stopped feeling personal a long time ago, but you still didn’t necessarily like it.

Steve answered before either you or Javi could, “All good. Let’s get this done.”

That was good enough for the colonel, a man who wanted all of this shit over with and settled more than anyone else in present company. He motioned for the three of you to follow him, giving out directions as he walked. You tried to focus on your breathing, the adrenaline and anxiety of the situations never exactly getting easier to deal with as time went on, but you still handled them. Once you were in it, there was no getting out.

“You two are with Trujillo and his men—go around back and up the stairs inside the house,” Carrillo gestured to you and Javi before turning to Steve, “Murphy, you’re with me and my men. We’re covering the front and heading in that way.”

There was no room for argument as you all split off. You wiped your hands against the fabric of your jeans, hoping to alleviate the clamminess. Javi caught the small gesture, speaking in a near-whisper as he asked, “Good?”

You nodded, responding just as quietly, “Good,” it wasn’t a complete lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either. You weren’t going to sit this out, though. Not by a longshot.

Trujillo quietly and quickly rattled off instructions to his small cluster of men, telling them to make sure they had every window and possible exit covered, to keep an eye on the neighboring houses just in case. Then he turned his attention to you and Javi and one of his other men, explaining quickly how he wanted you all to disperse and cover the house. If everything went according to plan, your target was going to end up cornered by not only you, but Carrillo’s squad as well.

The house was far from quiet as you made your way inside, which worked better for all of you in some aspects, and made things more difficult on other fronts. As long as no one accidentally discharged a weapon of fell down a flight of stairs, there was no way that anyone inside was going to hear all of you stealthily making your way through the house.

You cleared the bottom floor with no issues. It was hard to believe that any of the sicarios would be staying anywhere alone, so whoever was in the house must’ve been congregating on the second floor. Carrillo took the lead on the stairs, gesturing silently for how he wanted you all to divide and conquer the rest of the house.

Your heart was pounding inside your chest as you and Javier made your way into one of the rooms nearest the stairs. You covered him as he walked in, legs feeling more and more like jello with every step. Moments like that it was hard to tell whether or not your body was responding to the situation at hand, or trying to cope with all the other things you had to contend with. Either way, it wasn’t ideal and you tried not to think about it, which proved difficult in such intense moments.

“Clear,” Javi said it loud enough for you to hear but not loud enough to alert anyone else who might be lurking in the house.

You were both on your way to exiting the room when there was a commotion down the hall. Immediately you each raised your weapons, and the anxiety coursing through you only increased when you heard gunshots from the other end of the floor.

“Out the side window!” Steve’s voice echoed down the hall and without hesitation both you and Javi sprinted back into the room that you’d just exited.

He wasted no time at all flinging the window open. He holstered his weapon just long enough to climb out of it and onto the tiniest and most unsafe balcony in Colombia, if not the world. It was a short jump from there to the roof of the shorter building right next door. Before you could even formulate a thought, Javier jumped and was off and running. Just the thought of standing and jumping off the railing made you dizzy, but there wasn’t an alternative at this point. No way you were going to hang back and just hope for the best.

Your legs were shaking the entire time, but you made the jump, covering ground as quickly as you could to catch up to Javier and Carrillo as they booked it through the heaviest, hottest night air you’d ever encountered. The sounds of footsteps against the metal rooftops rang through the night, any thoughts of being quiet or stealthy having gone out the window the second your target had.

It wasn’t too long until you heard another commotion of grunting and cussing. There weren’t any gunshots, which was reassuring to you only because it meant that neither Javi or the colonel took a bullet. You caught up to them quickly, gun at the ready as you practically skidded to a stop. Everyone in present company was slicked with sweat, chests heaving. You, Javi, and Carrillo at least had the good fortune of still being upright. Meanwhile, the sicario that you’d been chasing was face down with Carrillo’s knee digging into his back, Javi standing close by with his gun pointed at the man’s head in case he tried to make things more difficult than they were worth.

You knew that Carrillo was talking to the man that he was currently cuffing and yanking up by the collar of his shirt, but you couldn’t wrap your mind around what he was saying. All of your energy went into focusing on the scene playing out in front of you, and you just hoped that it didn’t show too clearly on your face.

The thing that really got you to zero in was the sound of Carrillo saying your name. You snapped to attention the best you could, “Yea?”

“Need two agents with me to bring them to Bogotá. You and Peña.”

You were nodding before you even realized what you were agreeing to, “Done.”

All of your thoughts were muddled as you trailed behind them, all of you eventually making your way back to the street. Part of you was surprised that Carrillo didn’t simply just push the man off the low roof—broken bones a small price to pay compared to the ends some of the other sicarios met.

Apparently the reason that Steve hadn’t joined the chase with the rest of you was because he had managed to get the other man who was in the house. You watched both he and Carrillo all but toss them into the back of the vehicle. You were completely zoned out when you get someone’s hand wrap gently around your bicep.

“Hey,” Javi’s voice was quiet.

You looked at him, doing your best to look more with it than you felt, “Yea?”

“You sure you’re good to go to Bogotá?” the worry in his eyes made your stomach twist up even more.

You nodded, “I’m good.”

“Your hands are still shaking,” he didn’t even look down, already knowing he was right.

You stuffed them into your pockets like that would change what he’d already seen, “It’s just been a long night. Shit like this always gives me jitters—you know that.”

His brows furrowed, “Maybe you should just—”

“I said I’m fine, Peña,” you snapped, “I can take care of myself.”

It wasn’t often that you called him by his last name when it was just the two of you, and whether or not he wanted to admit it, it definitely stung. He recoiled slightly, knowing that he wasn’t going to win the argument with you, “Alright.”

He started walking away, and you let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you had been holding. Pulling your shaking hands from your pockets, you buried your face in them for a moment as you tried to pull yourself together. You didn’t want any of these guys seeing you break, especially not at a time like this.

“All good?” Steve saw the frustrated look on Javier’s face and couldn’t figure out why he would be looking like that at a time like this.

“Fuckin’ great,” the bite in his tone was palpable as he pulled out and lit a cigarette.

It was a tense, quiet ride to the base, followed by more of the same on the helicopter ride to Bogotá. It was the only time that not talking with Javi ever felt wrong. The only saving grace from what would’ve been awkward silence, was the fact that the last thing Carrillo ever wanted to do was make unnecessary conversation. The silence could be chalked up to that and the fact that it had been an insanely long night.

You still felt Javi looking at you, though. Even if you tried to lie to yourself about it, you felt bad for snapping at him. It wasn’t the time or the place to get into all of it, and really it wasn’t a conversation you wanted to have until you felt a little better, whenever that would end up being. But the small hours of the morning as you were unloading sicarios for future interrogations at a holding station in Bogotá was not the right time. If someone had asked you to recount any of the conversations you’d had or information you’d received or given in that stretch of time, you wouldn’t have been able to tell them. But however things played out, you must’ve said and done the right things because soon enough you were being dismissed. They put you all up for the night, knowing that in a few short hours you’d all be back for interrogations. Carrillo wasted no time in taking off to finally put the day to rest, leaving just you and Javier walking down the steps of the station.

Just as you were reaching the bottom of the steps, the last of your adrenaline ran out. The slight shake in your legs turned into them giving way beneath you, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. It felt like you were falling in slow motion as you tried to get ready to brace yourself, knowing that catching yourself was out of the question. But before you fell all the way to the ground, you felt Javi’s arms quickly wrap around you.

“Fuck,” the word fell quietly from your lips as you tried to brace yourself against him, thankful that you were falling into him rather than the unforgiving ground beneath you.

“Shit,” he did his best to get you fully upright again, his arm wrapped tight around your waist for support, “I got you.”

“Thanks,” you tried to focus, but your light-headedness was back with a vengeance as the two of you stood there on the sidewalk together, “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” the worry in his tone let you know that it was definitely not fine, “Let’s just get you home.”

You let out a dry chuckle as you forced one foot in front of the other, still leaning heavily against the man next to you, “Home? That’s a ways away, isn’t it?”

He rolled his eyes, unable to believe that your sarcasm was still present at a time like this, “Sounded better than saying hotel.”

You managed to sort of find your footing as the two of you made the short walk to the hotel, but despite you being a little steadier, Javier’s arm didn’t leave your waist. You didn’t bring it up, not wanting him to think that you minded it.

Javier walked with you to your room, and you could see it in his eyes that despite the way the day had gone, he wasn’t going to leave until he got to talk to you about everything. With a sigh, you attempted to beat him to the punch, “Javi, look, I just—”

“You gotta tell me what’s going on with you,” he cut you off with a shake of his head, “You shouldn’t have fuckin’ been out there today. You definitely shouldn’t be here.”

The pity drained out of you as you sat on the edge of your bed, too exhausted to stand for the argument, “Fuck you—you don’t get to tell me where I should and shouldn’t be.”

“I do if it means that it’s gonna keep you alive. What if you collapsed like that back at the house? What then?”

“I didn’t.”

“But you could’ve!” he shook his head and instinctively patted his pockets in search of a pack of cigarettes but came up empty, “What the hell is going on with you?”

“If you’re just worried that I’m gonna keel over out there,” you gestured vaguely at the window in your room, “don’t. I’m not gonna—”

“I’m worried about you!” he snapped, “I’ve been worried about you. I’ve been waiting for you to fuckin’ say something to me about it and you haven’t.”

“Then why didn’t you just ask?” you shot back, knowing full well that wasn’t the point of the argument.

“Because I thought that maybe you’d just trust me enough to tell me,” his voice was markedly softer than he was a few moments before.

The exhaustion and the emotional weight of the conversation made you want to sink completely into the mattress. Running your hand back over your head, you sighed, “I do trust you. I just. I couldn’t have you thinking that I’m weak. I can’t have those other assholes at the base, or the embassy, thinking that I can’t hack this. I can. I will. I’ve been dealing with this shit my whole life—I’m gonna be alright. But you gotta admit that the last couple of months have taken a toll on everyone. It’s just…more obvious with me.”

“I don’t think you’re weak,” he shook his head, “I think you’re fuckin’ stubborn, and frustrating, and don’t know when to give yourself a goddamn break—”

“Must be why we get along so well,” you chimed in with a tired chuckle.

“But I also think you’re smart, and dedicated, and one of the only people left on this team with a decent fuckin’ moral compass and a good sense of humor,” he peeled his eyes up from the carpet to look at you, “And you can’t expect me to just sit back and let you run yourself into the ground.”

“Javier—”

He sat down next to you, his hand coming to rest gently on your knee as he spoke, “Just promise me that you’ll be honest with me about this. I’m not gonna say anything to anyone, but you need to let me help you. I can’t…I can’t lose you.”

The warmth seeping from his palm through your jeans was enough to make you temporarily forget about the tiredness taking over your body. Shaking your head slightly, you rested your hand on top of his, “You’re not gonna lose me, Javi,” you let out a quiet laugh as you leaned against his side, “I’m too stubborn, remember?” you let your head drop to rest on his shoulder, and you felt his body relax at the small gesture.

He huffed out a soft laugh, a smile tugging at his lips in spite of all the other emotions coursing through him, “Right.”

[furious-rogue-stuff]

Heat Chapter 9: Passion

This is a supersized chapter teeming with angst, and bursting with gratuitous filth, so strap in! I know my chapters are obnoxiously long, so I apologize in advance.

If you’d like to be added to the tag list, please let me know~!

Pairing: Javier Peña x OFC | Javi x Querida

Disclaimer: Written in 2nd person narrative, you can safely assume our heroine and love/lust interest is a Latina, written by a Latina. Here's my philosophy on my writing, for further context.

Rating: Mature/Explicit 🔞

Word Count: 21,000+

Summary: When confronted in the most unexpected place, you and Javi find yourselves confronting the turmoil of being without each other. Can you both find your way back to what you once had?

Warnings: Javier Peña being an angsty-yet-still-sexy dish, graphic depictions and salacious descriptions of sex, mentions of: angst, depression, frustration, jealousy, toxic behavior, some hurt/comfort, vulnerable emotional states, and birth control. Detailed descriptions of salacious oral sex (m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex 🤭 Some Sad!Javi, Soft!Javi, Possessive!Javi, and yes, some emotional turmoil-addled Reader. Slight trigger warning for mentions of ‘not wanting to wake up’ dejection and pregnancy scare anxiety. In the vein of Narcos being a bilingual show, and Javier Peña being fluent, I felt it was apropos to include Spanglish and Spanish throughout.

Chapter 1: Nicknames | Chapter 2: Tempest | Chapter 3: Solterita | Chapter 4: Cagey | Chapter 5: Want - Part 1| Chapter 6: Want - Part 2 | Chapter 7: Insecurities - Part 1 | Chapter 8: Insecurities - Part 2 |  Read at AO3

Taglist: @redsilentwolf28​ @just-here-for-the-moment​ @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan​ @mandosmistress​ @sarahjkl82-blog​ @omgreally​ @knittingqueen13​ @mamacitapascal​ @chronic-nosebleed​ @hnt-escape​ @eri16​ @gracie7209​ @casssiopeia​​ @athalien​​ @qwertymx​

Chapter 9: Passion

If there's one thing you've learned in your life, it is to be resilient in the face of devastation.

The morning you woke up in your bed alone, you'd been devastated, left raw until like a wound, you sealed up and became what you are now – an unfeeling thing. But you know that beneath that layer of thicker skin, you are still writhing and arcing, so you guard yourself and rule over your emotions with an iron fist. The first few days are easy, because your outrage stokes your conviction, but it eventually wanes, and you are left teetering between the gauntlet of emotions warring to take you over when by the end of the week, you dimly realize a problem.

You stare down at it now, and the anxiety wells like cold ice in your chest.

The birth control packet indicates you should be on your second day of your period, which hadn't come. You're late.

You. Are. Late.

The stifling panic fills you for days while you wait for your appointment, and even when you're waiting in the exam room for the doctor to come back with your results, the feeling like every atom in your body is going to combust wells inside you. What the hell are you gonna do?! What if they come back and tell you you're pregnant?

You are a bundle of roiling dread when the doctor comes in with a placid smile. She looks over your chart one last time before blithely declaring you're healthy and not pregnant, but should consider a new form of birth control pill, and she talks you through the options.

By the time you're walking into the office, you feel like a zombie, strung out from the anxiety and admonishing yourself over and over as you drop into your desk chair, and hold your head in your hands for a beat.

"Jesus, who died?" Ellis chortles when he comes back from his meeting and sees you gloomily huddled at your desk.

"…I think I need a vacation. Would you hate me for taking a week, sometime soon?" you deadpan, lifting your head only enough to peer at him through the canopy of your flopped hair.

"Of course not! You literally never take time. You're overdo, kid, so have at it," Ellis assures and pats your shoulder. "Anita and I are gonna have a movie night Friday. You're welcome to join! She's been asking about you a lot. Think she misses her shopping partner-in-crime," he muses as he sits and starts twirling his pen idly.

"Sure, I'd like that. Want me to bring anything over?" you chime, feeling a bit better for the distraction.

"Nah," he drawls before glancing over and musing haltingly, "Although…would you be open to me inviting a buddy…platonically, of course?"

You narrow your gaze judgmentally. "Who?"

"…Samson…" he mumbles softly and meekly looks at you with his version of puppy eyes.

Appalled, you snipe, "Why are you still angling to fix us up?! You promised you'd cut that shit out—"

"I'm not! I just like the guy and I like hanging out with the both of you, and hey – you said your talk went well, right?! So why can't we all hang out socially?" Ellis lobbies, emphatic as he adds, "What would it hurt? You're both adults who enjoy each other's company, albeit platonically, so why can't you hang out with the guy?"

Sighing, you whirl back to your laptop and mutter dryly, "…Fine. But I mean it, Ellis. No prodding or hassling us."

"Scout's honor!" he muses, and holds up the wrong hand sign, so you roll your eyes and shake your head as you go back to work.

What's the point, anyway? You're single and have loads of free time since Javi dropped off the face of the earth. He hasn't called you, and you haven't called him. Your indignant rage would not allow you to call him after he just came into your place like a tempest of angst and despair only to sneak out like a bandit in the night.

Yes, you'd both told each other you loved each other in Spanish countless times now, but something about speaking it into existence in your main language wields a different level of authority. Susurrating sweet nothings in Spanish, while delicious and titillating, doesn't hold a candle to being told in English by him that he loves you – then for you to profess you love him after all that's happened? It's different. It was like speaking your weakness for each other into existence where any of the major players in your lives would know its meaning, and it upped the danger factor for you, and you felt so right telling him, only to end up a vulnerable heap at his perceived rejection.

Part of you – a small, lame part – tells you maybe he was ashamed and needed to put space between you because he broke down in front of you. You were open to listening to that little voice, until the cacophony of other louder more brash voices sneered viciously, You told him you LOVE him and he LEFT. Do you need anymore of an indication on where he stands?! You pushed him away for a reason – and this is it! Because he was going to revel in what he could get from you for as long as you were worth the effort. You are a challenge no one can put up with for long…

Rescind, you let your anger simmer, and it kept you clear-headed and poised on the outside while you spent your nights tangled up in regret and self-recrimination.

Movie night at Ellis' is fine. You watch some atrocious Patrick Swayze action movie that is so insane you laugh out loud and tease Ellis, who vouches that the movie is amazing. Luke, for his part, just grins and waits for the arguing to stop so he can snicker in agreement with you, all the while Anita is giggling at her husband's expense.

You get your period a week late, but the ridiculous relief you feel at the monthly visitor only proves to you that you have no right to pine over a man that you'd literally been terrified at the prospect of having to tell you were knocked up. It makes it easy for you to compartmentalize further and wall yourself off to the longing loneliness, and once you've put in for you time off and traveled out of the city, you're dead-set on enjoying the break – without yearning for Javier or letting the pangs of hurt wrack you in your moments of weakness.

For his part, Javier is absolutely miserable.

He'd only left in the dead of night after you'd consoled and soothed him lovingly because he felt embarrassed – filled with mortified self-loathing and shame for unloading his grief onto you after you'd rejected him. Javier had sought you out by instinct – viscerally compelled to seek your grace in the moment of wretched weakness, and instead of you turning him away, you had pulled him close and held him from shattering like a feeble, lily-livered failure.

You'd shared your bed, given yourself to him, and had professed your love.

Javi couldn't accept it. Not when he'd hurt you and had given you no real option but to take him in. After all, what could you have done otherwise? You wouldn't have turned him away, and you're empathy for others? It's a glowing ember in your grace that he knows is hardwired and blazing with compassion in you. There was no way you'd turn someone away who was suffering, and he knew you didn't pity him, but the idea that you'd opened yourself up to him when he'd shown you his woeful, furious dark side was something he couldn't bare.

He didn't think he could hold your gaze ever again after that, so…he'd left.

But for days, he hated himself for it. Javier had been wrathful, bristling at every obstacle at work, and the more their operations were foiled, the worse his anger became – leaving him open to pushing the envelope on things more and more to achieve the new goal: Take down Escobar before Gaviria agreed to his surrender terms. This overzealous aim had him going all-in with Carrillo and his methods while Steve resisted.

His rancor only grew after Diana Turbay's spectacular death at the hands of Search Bloc and Gaviria's crumbling under pressure had left DEA sidelined yet again and Carrillo officially out of commission. Noonan's complete capitulation to the turn of events only exacerbated his hostility to his work, and when he and Steve had been relegated to rushing out to the coordinates they'd gotten and watched from afar as Escobar got a helicopter lift to his luxury prison, Javier had been flinty and unfeeling.

It was only when he was toasted and on his fifth drink after Carrillo ditched him and saddled him with the check that his thoughts dipped to his regrets, and fucking things up with you was at the top of the list, below not putting a bullet in Escobar's head. That realization punched him, leaving him reeling as he nursed his whiskey and scoffed at himself.

He had no right to call you. That's what he keeps barking at himself as he stumbles into his room at the crash house and sits on his bed, drunk and sentimental as he wrings his hand over his face and swears at himself.

"Fuckin' idiot. Can't ever look at her without wanting to kick your own ass, fuckin' worthless—"

His satellite phone rings, and Javi groans, too drunk to go back out, so he ignores it, kicks his boots off, and sprawls out on his bed, burying his head under the pillow and hoping he doesn't wake up – before a small voice mumbles appealingly, But you'd want to see her one last time…

It isn't until the next morning that he's meeting Steve at Carrillo's office that he finds out who they went after the night before. He gets a sick satisfaction knowing Sureshot got blasted with a shotgun round after the trauma that fucker branded in him in Campo Valdez, and Poison getting killed running away like a bitch was poetic justice.

When Carrillo makes it clear a select cadre of his men are going to be conducting a few more sweeps and raids before he has to completely disband, Javi volunteers to ride along with Trujillo while Steve heads back to spend some needed quality time with Connie and the baby. It's on the third outing that week that he's irascible with frustration, sitting in the passenger seat of the unmarked vehicle with Trujillo while they stake out a popular nightlife hub in Medellín's Zona Rosa – only a few blocks from La Dispensaria, when he deliberates about calling it quits on the tagging along and heading back to Bogotá in the morning – to breaking down and going to see you to apologize.

He knows you're liable to skin him alive for having the audacity, but after the last few weeks he's had, he'd actually enjoy getting verbally murdered by you at this point. Whether you'd not kick his ass too is still up for debate, so he's deliberating that while Trujillo is chatting over the CB radio to some of the other men stationed across the opposite avenue, keeping an eye out for known sicarios who'd yet to surrender for transfer to La Catedral for their bullshit prison sentence with their boss.

"—No, but the honeys are stellar tonight," the voice over the radio drawls in Spanish, and Javi snickers while Trujillo grins.

"It's really hopping, even for a Friday night. Tons of mamacitas," another voice chimes in, and Javi at least feels solace knowing he isn't the only one hard up for sex right now.

"Oh yeah? Describe the hottest one you see, then. Spare no details, Ramirez," Trujillo dares, and Javi rolls his eyes as he lights a cigarette.

"Oh, that's easy. In front of El Coyote right now? There's a beautiful honey…" Ramirez answers and goes into detailed description, sizing up the woman's height, weight, the color of her hair, the hourglass shape of her figure, how she has the kind of ass you'd fall to your knees and pray to, fantastic tits in the killer purple halter-top mini dress—

And when he describes how plush her lips are, and the steely, exacting glint of her eyes as she rebuffs a guy trying to flirt her up while she waits in the queue to get into the club with her friends, Javier winds up with a foreboding, teeming anxiety.

"Damn, she sounds like a stunner—!" Trujillo begins when Javier flicks his cigarette out of the window and signals for him to cut off the radio. "What's up?"

"Do me a favor and tell them I'm going in to do a visual sweep—" Javier begins to instruct as he starts yanking off the green tactical bullet-proof vest he has on and tosses it to the backseat before grabbing his leather jacket and shrugs it on so he can conceal his gun at the back of his waistband.

"What?! Why? There are no targets spotted yet—" Trujillo begins to protest as Javier storms out of the car and turns to grab the walkie-talkie sitting on top of the dash. "Peña—"

"Just do me this favor. I have to check it out," Javi implores, shooting Trujillo an earnest glare, so when the CNP officer nods curtly, he slams the door and starts stalking down the block towards the avenue, tucking the walkie in his jacket pocket as he goes.

By the time he gets there, the woman they described isn't in the line outside, so he goes over and demands that the bouncer let him in, flashing his badge covertly and cautioning him to avoid another shootout and let him check to make sure no targets are inside. Once the guy and the manager agree and let him through, Javier walks through the packed club, swiveling past the throng congregating just inside the door to go towards the bar and circle the space, eyes roving keenly in search for the mystery woman he hopes isn't you.

Staring across the recessed dance floor, he sets his jaw when he sees you dancing with some guy to the loud, boisterous reggaetón song. The strobe lights refract down on the battered floor and catch in your hair as it sways, as well as in the thin sheen of sweat clinging to your exposed skin in the stifling dance hall, but what has Javier boiling with rancor right now is how you're dancing with the guy.

Smiling, you laugh as Miguel – your cousin's friend – snickers in Spanish in your ear, "This might be a decent reggaetón spot, but I can't say I'm decent at dancing it yet so don't be disappointed."

Your smile is playful, albeit silly as you glance over your shoulder and pull his arms close. "Hah, you'll learn. The girl does most of the work anyway," you joke and punctuate your meaning by twerking your hips expertly against him while he crowds you from behind and seats his hands at your waist. Your dress is just tight enough to accentuate your curves, but stretchy enough to allow you the aerobic, gyrating freedom to dance with the confidence needed for the genre of music, strappy block heels giving you a bit more height but comfortable enough for the footwork and balance required to 'throw it back' and roll your hips sensually.

Your cousin and her other friend are flagging you down to come to the table now that she's gotten the drinks, and you wave in a gesture that says, 'After the song!' After all, you're having fun after weeks of being a morose shell, and Miguel is cute. Not really your type, but he's sweet and has made up for it by being easygoing. You're not looking to hookup or anything, but you like the attention. He's polite and smart, and your cousin talked him up to you the whole time she drove to the nightlife zone, and when he walked up right before you finally made it to the door, you greeted him with a kiss on the cheek after he'd exchanged the same greeting with your cousin. His attention is a confidence boost, and you know you look good tonight. Your hair is done, bouncy and flirty, your red-lacquered toe and fingernails are glossy, exposed skin smooth and radiant, and your makeup looks great thanks to your cousin's talent for getting done up.

"Damn, how the hell you move like that? Nobody else is moving like that—" he quips, after you undulate your pelvis to roll your hourglass shape like the best perreo dancer in the room.

"That's how we Boricuas do," you snicker and are just about to chime something else into his ear when you suddenly feel someone grab your upper arm and spin you away from Miguel. "¡Oye!" you begin to shout and whirl around prepared to throttle the jerk, when you're confronted by furious molten chocolate eyes that bore into you under scowling brows and from an expression etched in surly anger. "Javi—?"

"What the fuck are you doing here?!" he snarls at you and you are suddenly stunned by the vicious edge of his tone. "Are you out of your fucking mind?!"

"What—?!" you begin to stammer and weakly tug your arm back when Miguel intercedes on your behalf. The entire commotion has people skirting away on the dance floor and is bringing undue attention, especially when Miguel tries to step to Javi.

"Hey man, let her go—"

Javier lashes out and grabs Miguel by his collar shirt and yanks him close so he can ground out in Spanish, "Walk the fuck away while you still have a chance. She's coming with me—"

"The hell I am!" you snap and shove Javier at his yellow-shirt-clad chest, now irate that he would do something like this after going weeks without acknowledging your existence. "Who the fuck do you think you are—?!" you begin to rail when Javier jerks Miguel away and pulls you by your waist to tug you against him.

Just as you start to recoil away, he hisses in your ear, "This club's being surveilled by Search Bloc right now and you are coming with me before you get swept up."

Shocked, you stare in befuddled horror before you turn and see Miguel pushed pass the crowd and went over to the table your cousin is at, pointing over at you both. "Let me go tell my cousin and her friends to get out of here—"

"You're not leaving my side," he cuts in furiously and holds fast to your arm, so you huff and wring your arm out of his grip to instead grab his hand and yank him along behind you. 

You feel Javier bristle, but you ignore his outrage and focus on going to the table and warning your cousin. "You guys have to get out of here. This is a friend from the embassy and he's warned me that there's going to be trouble here, so go out—"

"Are you serious?!" your cousin protests, so you firmly tell her to just trust you and you apologize to them before you explain you have to go and insist she not worry as you grab your clutch hastily as Javier finally grows impatient and starts pulling you away.

His hand is like a vice around yours as he shepherds you through the bustling club to the entrance and storms out, towing you along as he briskly strides away and down the opposite block towards a waiting jeep. You are seething with fury, but know better than to make a scene right now, so you keep quiet and squeeze his hand while he stomps to the car's passenger side where the window is rolled down and a plainclothes officer is sitting in the driver's seat, wearing a tactical vest.

"I'm going to the crash house. Didn't see anyone inside, and you didn't see me with her," he tells the man before tossing the walkie-talkie into the car onto the passenger seat and stalking off with you, and the officer says nothing in return, but you can hear over the radio someone else call in:

"Peña is clear and he took that honey with him—"

The man in the jeep radios back, "Negative. You didn't see that, so make sure to keep it off of the surveillance report—"

Your mind is racing as Javi wordlessly leads you through callejones at a clipped pace and avoids main streets, so it's a while before you're being pulled up a steep street and up the steps of a walkway leading to a nondescript house with no front-end access. It looks like a duplex – with a gate leading from the street to the back of the ground level unit and a set of steps around the side to the upstairs apartment. Javier unlocks the gate to the downstairs unit and pulls you up two steps as he stomps up and yanks the gate closed after you before opening a door and herding you into a small, shabby studio apartment, with just a kitchenette, rickety table, a ceiling fan, and a narrow bathroom adjacent to a rumpled bed, armoire, and a single nightstand tucked into the corner by the one large curtain-drawn window in the whole place.

Just as you're absorbing your surroundings after he flicks a switch on and the lamp in the far corner of the room illuminates the space, Javier locks up and whirls around on you. "What the fuck are you doing in a goddamned night club just blocks away from where fucking sicarios were gunned down by Search Bloc not even a fucking week ago?!" he bellows, eyes dark and flaring with fury as he grapples with his rage, and when you stiffen and gape at him, he impotently slams his palm into the cement wall. "Jesus fucking Christ, querida—" he thunders as he turns back towards you, but you snap out of your bemused shock and literally throw your purse at him.

The small clutch hits him in the chest before dropping to the tiled floor – momentarily stunning him, as you rile and bark, "What the fuck do you care?! I haven't heard from you in weeks! And now you come storming in and drag me out like I'm one of your fucking putas?! Why the fuck did you bring me here?!"

"I didn't have fucking time to think!" he shouts back, yanking his jacket off in a flustered huff and tossing it to the rickety table across from the kitchenette before reeling when you laugh disparagingly at that. "All I saw was you dancing with some pendejo when any minute a sicario could've walked in and Search Bloc would've followed with shotguns!" he declares furiously and cuts the distance between you, leaning close to emphasize, "You can be pissed at me all you want, but I-I couldn't live with myself if I'd been sitting outside that fucking club when they went in—"

"I'm not pissed – I am livid!" you yell and whip around him to grab your purse from the floor and begin to stalk towards the only door in the place, pointedly avoiding acknowledging what he's trying to stress to you. "I am sick of listening to your bullshit! I'm getting out of here—"

Javier grabs you, spins you around, and pins you up against the wall next to the table. "Goddammit—" he begins to growl and you fight him, smacking his hands away and shoving at him, hair tussling about and sweat prickling at your temples and your neck as you flail. "Fuck's sake, listen to me—!"

"You just left!"

He stops struggling at your vehement harangue, shocked to see your expression twist in frustrated shame as you push him back and turn self-consciously away from him. Disarmed, he stares at you, and when you refuse to look at him, he swears and reaches for you.

"Querida, I—I couldn't…couldn't," he struggles for words when he tugs you to turn and look at him, only for you to bow your head so your hair can cascade to obscure your features and deliberately avoid his gaze. He's hit with a ludicrous realization.

He'd not called you or reached out in any way, and had read into you doing the same to mean his insecurities were justified – that you hadn't wanted to see him anymore and had allowed him in to stay with you that night because you felt obligated. Instead, he now realizes you'd believed he left in rejection of your feelings, and to be confronted by him now after weeks of believing he didn't want anything to do with you was a gaslighting betrayal.

"I couldn't bare you looking at me differently after that night."

You are stunned and snap your gaze to finally stare up at him, thinking he has to be winding you up, but when you see those soulful eyes dark with insecure shame, you war with ambivalence, unsure how to take this when you'd been so open and clear with him that night.

"I told you I love you, and you left," you press, tone wavering as you add, "I only look at you differently now for leaving me like that – leaving me to twist in the wind like a fucking fool—"

"I never meant to make you feel that way," he stresses and grips your shoulders, but you stiffen, not trusting yourself to stay strong and not crumble with upset. "Cariño, I've been fucking miserable—"

"And what?!" you snap, shrugging his touch away. "If you felt so fucking miserable, that was of your own doing! I didn't push you away, Javier," tone sharpening, you jab, "You only seem to give a fuck when you see me with someone else—"

"Don't tell me I don't care," he cuts in gruffly and challengingly holds your gaze as he scathes, "It's hard not to care when I have to watch you grind your fucking ass against some guy in a club that's about to be raided—"

"Proving my point!" you snipe and storm past him, slapping your clutch down on the rickety table as you go and shoot over your shoulder, "Con quien perreo no es ningún pretexto para tú controlarme—"

He's scoffing, expression ferocious as he takes his gun out of his waistband and slams it down on the table before striding over briskly at you and grabbing you as you dismissively attempt to go into the little hovel of a bathroom. He yanks you over to press up against him as he growls, "I don't want to control you, but I will not stand by and let you do reckless shit just to get back at me—"

"Are you fucking high?!" you rail and go to smack him on the shoulder of the arm holding fast to you, but he grabs your hand and thwarts you, so you seethe, "You conceited hijueputa—I'm in Medellín on vacation visiting family! How the fuck was I to know what you're doing, let alone think,'oh, I'm going to go to a club to fuck with Javier Peña tonight'?!"

Well, Javier is begrudged to concede your point at that, and when his lips press together, you see the angst crinkle his eyes. "Ok…" he begins in a simmering tone, hands caressing down your arms as he reins in his temper. "I'm sorry. I…I just saw you and I didn't think. I—" he pauses and with effort, grounds out, "I had no right."

Your blazing glare wanes at that, and you find yourself leaning into him, hands independently deciding to caress up his chest and linger there as you stare hesitantly up into his brewed depths. "And?" you press, brows softening as they lift expectantly.

Javi huffs and encircles his hands to the small of your back. "And I'm a fucking idiot for leaving like that. I'm sorry, querida," he grumbles, but when your eyes soften and your plush lips part, he's tantalized to easily mutter, "Please forgive me, mi amor."

You can't believe how much you've yearned to hear him say that, and how absolutely alight you are to press up against him and meet his lips with a hungry kiss you've been burning with for weeks – scorching with since you saw him looking like a man possessed earlier under the flashing strobe lights. Javier claims your mouth with gusto, hands roving your warm body and fixating on the feel of your ass in his kneading palms again. You gasp and wrap your arms around his shoulders and slink against him, rubbing your womb along the bulge you feel against you and earning a muffled grunt and a smoldering look from Javi that spikes arousal into your core and has you instantly wet. Heat burns your cheeks as he easily picks you up and carries you the ridiculous short distance to the bed, where he places you into the rumpled sheets that smell of him interwoven with cigarette smoke and must from the cooped up air in the small apartment.

His mouth latches to the side of your neck as he gropes his palms over your breasts and groans when he doesn't feel a bra beneath the fabric and can relish your studding nipples pressing up against his touch. You whimper and start to yank at his shirt, wanting him naked immediately. He grunts and sits back on his haunches so you can rush to take his damned stiff yellow button shirt off while you kiss his lips and let him hike your dress' skirt up. Before he can pull your panties down your hips, though, you pant against his lips and bite your bottom lip ruefully.

"L-Let me take these off?" you murmur breathily and gesture to your heels, and he realizes you think he's going to dominate you like the last time he got insanely jealous seeing you with someone else.

Javier holds your avid gaze while he reverently takes your heels off for you and tenderly skates his large hands up your shins, squeezes your calves affectionately, and hooks them to the back of your knees so he can tug you to the edge of the bed and reach around you to ease the zipper of your halter top dress down. Titillated by his gentle treatment, you reach behind your neck and unhook the clasp of the halter, allowing your dress' bust to fall away so Javi can caress his warm palms over your bare breasts, humming in pleasure when he toys his thumbs over your nipples and watches them harden more, peaking for him before he bows his head and suckles one lovingly before trailing his mouth over to the other and repeating the doting treatment.

You are squirming, hands burying in his hair as you sigh, "Javi, please…want you."

He groans and resumes stripping you out of your dress, tugging the flirty ensemble off your figure and unseeingly tossing it aside as he focuses his lusted gaze on your skimpy panties. Your crotch is already soaked through and Javi is fiercely turned on by how you lie back and start peeling them off your hips, thighs trembling as you shimmy the sullied garment down your legs and blush, feeling filthy and needy.

Seeing your soft, wet pussy has him rushing to take his clothes off to climb onto the bed, and when you watch him and press your lips together to wet them, he's buzzing with pent-up desire as he gets in bed and settles between your welcoming thighs.

You both skip the foreplay and work to undo weeks of hurt and loneliness, reveling in how good it feels to be each other's again. When he enters your tight sheath, you bite your lip and clutch his back as the exquisite, familiar burn of his thick cock breaching you singes your aroused muscles. Javi groans and nuzzles your jaw when he thrusts home and you whimper in delight, pelvis already angling for him to go deep in you as your knees dig into the sides of his ribcage for purchase.

"Mmm, m-missed you," he murmurs in a rough tone, voice pitched from the effort to not slam into you to instead let your heavenly heat get used to his size again.

You sigh a pleased hum. "Not as much as I missed you, malcriado," you wryly purr and cup the back of his head to guide him from nuzzling you to capture your lips in a hearty, passionate kiss.

Javier makes love to you with incandescent devotion, driving you over the edge of a desperate orgasm that has you curling up against him and moaning his name in a tight whimper, body going taut as he prolongs your bliss by hammering his cock into that ruinously divine pleasure point inside you until your rippling, flooding sheath snatches his climax from him when you combine its power with the beseeching wrapping of your legs around his waist and toss your head back as you root him deep inside you when he starts to come.

Muffling his shout of completion into your neck and the pillow, Javi shoots his cum inside you and shivers when you hum in accomplished delight. He can feel your hungry, silken walls flutter around him as your core buzzes from the force of his climax. It's astounding to his sex-addled mind, and you kiss the side of his head while he recovers.

"Oh…oh fuck…mmmph," he rumbles in a heady grouse as he nuzzles your sweaty skin and grunts, lying on top of you and feeling you caress your fingertips languidly along the contours of his muscled back. When you hum in question, he mumbles flatly, "This fucking bed is too small. If I roll over, I'm going to fall off."

You stifle a giggle, but when Javier lifts his head to shoot you a lustful, snooty look, you burst into a soft, doting laugh, and he huffs and mercilessly presses cheeky kisses into your temple, jaw, everywhere while you laugh until the melodious pitch whines into a silly sigh before you lovingly tilt your head to meet his lips with yours, laving plush kisses in retaliation before nuzzling his cheek.

"Javi, this place is a dump," you jibe softly after he maneuvers to lie on his side and pulls you to face him on your side, slinging your leg to hook at the knee around his hip so you both can be on the narrow mattress and not be precariously on the edges.

The feeling of you carving your hips around his has his desire stoking up again, but he forces himself to just hold and caress you. "It's called a crash house for a reason, baby," he drawls and settles his palm over your derrière to herd you closer, not at all bothered by the damp spot left on the sheets, but having to ease your bashful fidgeting as his hand comes close to your still fluttering and weeping pussy. "…Although it's bearable now that I have you in this god-forsaken bed," he purrs as he presses his nose to your hairline at your nape and inhales your scent before planting kisses just under your jaw. "I'll be able to sleep better with your smell—"

"Ah-hah, sleep better, sure," you quip and make an amused sound when he grunts and squeezes your ass irreverently. "…I don't want to get you in trouble, so if you need me to sneak out—"

"Only a handful of people know about this location, and I trust them all with my life. Don't worry," he muses reassuringly and kisses you. "Steve stays in the studio upstairs when he's in town. Not sure how much longer that'll be the case, all things considering…" he mutters tersely, but softens when you caress your fingertips along his forehead and playfully ruffle his hair. He scoffs when you purse your lips goofily at him. "What's that look, atrevida?"

"I just realized how insane that probably looked from a civilian's point of view," you remark sardonically and give him a meek smile. "I should probably call my cousin and let her know I didn't get snatched up by some crazy man—"

"I was not being crazy," he grumbles, brows furrowing and mouth pulling down into a frown.

"Javi – you threatened someone and yanked me out of the club," you insist, but grin when he glowers and diverts his gaze. "Is there a phone in this shack?" you muse and affectionately trace his scowling lips with your index finger to force him to look into your eyes again.

He grunts and grimaces. "Shit. I left my satellite phone in the car with Trujillo…"

You roll your eyes and continue to trace your fingertips along his handsome features, missing how his jaw tenses when your trim, rounded and currently red-lacquered nails graze impishly along his cheek, or how his eyes get half-lidded when you map your touch over his brow, along the defined ridge of his nose, across his moustache, and mischievously skate along his rugged-yet-boyish lips.

He hums an alluring sound as you fan your fingertips to his sideburn and comb them into the hair that frames around his ear. There's a spot just behind there and close to the nape of his neck that makes Javi close his eyes and relax into you, and he dissolves in sated tranquility when you draw little circles there and kiss his jaw.

"…Who you staying with?" he drowsily asks as he rests his forehead against yours when you loop your arm to anchor around his shoulder.

"My grandmother," you reply and brush your nose affectionately against his. "I'm heading back to Bogotá early Sunday."

There's an easy silence for a beat, and you are content to just breathe him in, having missed his scent so much.

"…Can I get a do-over?"

His tentative croon stirs you to open your eyes and bat your lashes at him when his big, brown puppy eyes bore into yours.

"Only if you promise never to disappear on me like that again," you murmur, but press, "I mean it, Javi. If you can't or don't want to see me, just tell me. Don't go M.I.A. on me."

"I won't. I promise," he answers without hesitation, baritone like honeyed gravel as he husks, "I love you, preciosa."

You feel yourself melt, heart aflutter and core pulsing with incandescent, enamored fulfillment. "I love you too," you susurrate and smile when he cups your jaw before he kisses you adoringly.

Once you settle into a comfortable cuddle against him, you curl into his chest and nuzzle his throat while he holds you flush against him as he semi-reclines on his back while he smokes a cigarette and watches the smoke undulate in a whirlpool motion from the languidly spinning ceiling fan.

Your fingers are lazily skimming along the length of his side while you come down from the ardent high of having been so furious and then so turned on within the snap of a flaring temper. Part of you is admonishing you snidely, but that small little part of you is reveling in having been right – in having guessed right about Javier's motives for dipping out on you and staying away. Pressing your lips together and wetting them, you're about to ask him if he's going to have to tell his superiors about why he went AWOL tonight, when he exhales and flicks his cigarette ash in the ashtray on the table tucked next to the bed while his fingers wrapped around the curve of your waist flex and knead you affectionately.

"Where'd you learn how to dance like that?"

The naughty pitch of his rumble makes you bite your lip to stifle your lopsided smirk. "Why do you ask?" you feign innocence and feel his huffy grunt against your cheek, so you lean up to sprawl flirtatiously over his warm and naked form, hand pillowing your chin as you smile deviously at him. "Liked what you saw?" you prod, watching as his eyes flash with surliness while his lips press together and the muscle in his jaw clenches. "Next time, I might be perreando with you, celoso."

"You fuckin' better be, bravita," he grumbles and squeezes your ass. "Although I don't know if I could have this grinding against me in a crowded club and not take you somewhere to perrear for real," he mutters saucily and taps your ass for good measure, earning a tense little noise from you.

He snickers and finishes his cigarette when you narrow your eyes at him and retaliate by rubbing his left nipple and watching it harden. When he resists squirming, you sling your arm to straddle his ribcage so you can dip over and lick his nipple, causing him to hiss a startled intake of breath and tense under you. "Are you gonna have to report in to anyone about tonight?" you casually ask before blowing cold air over his skin and glancing sultrily up at him while he releases a shaky breath and distractedly stubs out the cigarette so the hand that isn't clutching the supple globe of your ass can grip the sheets as you flick the tip of your tongue along his peaked flesh.

"I—I don't answer t-to anyone, atrevida," he hitches and gets hard when you straddle him and kiss a path to his other nipple. "N-Not supposed to be t-tagging along anyway, s-so nothing to report—hmph," his reedy grouse is cut off by him biting his lip and muffling a groan at you grazing your teeth along his sensitive flesh and salaciously grinding your slick, dewy pussy along his ramrod cock.

You glance up at him, raising an eyebrow as you sit up and quit your teasing to look at him seriously. "What do you mean?" you inquire, brushing your fingers to comb your hair backwards behind your shoulders as you straddle him and stare at his bemused, sexually disconcerted expression – riled by the dichotomy of being aroused and wary now. "Javier—"

"It's nothing," he insists curtly and wraps his palms around your waist, trying to coax you back down and over his cock, which you feel twitch and press along the firm and supple divot of the back of your inner thigh when you resist his dismissive maneuvering. "Mmm, it's nothing you need to worry about, querida—"

You huff, grabbing his wrists and pressing into pressure points there to force him to stop angling you closer. "If it's the kind of nothing that'll get you in trouble—"

"It won't get me in any more trouble than the usual shit," he mutters and licks his lips, fidgeting under you. "Fuck, baby, I don't want you to worry, so just pretend I didn't say anything—"

"Javier," you press, but he impatiently tosses his head back and huffs, so you scowl and splay your hands to his chest before adjusting and squeezing your knees at his sides, just above his hips. "You can't just say something like that and then tell me not to worry. That's not fair—"

"I know..." he mutters and drags his hand through his hair before fisting it in exasperation with himself. "…We're not supposed to be riding along anymore with Search Bloc. They're getting disbanded, and were told to cease operations," he explains tersely as he drags his hand over his eyes and exhales. "But we want to nail as many of those motherfuckers as we can before they go to La Catedral. The last raid was big…" he remarks and flops his hand down to the bed, giving you that flinty stare. "The way shit's going though, I don't know if they're going to rotate Steve and I out, or leave us to go fucking stir-crazy on the sidelines."

You absorb that and are suddenly struck with an awful thought, one that has you curling down to cuddle him and kiss his jaw. "…Would it be so awful if it was the latter?" you whisper, and feel his hands hesitate in their caress of your back.

Javier has the impulse to grumble a resolute 'Yes,' but when he feels you start to coil up with tension, he realizes what you're saying. It's not that you want him to be frustrated at work, but at the very least, he'll still be at work and not in danger while doing rogue cowboy shit that could end up burning him bad, or worse. It's the first time you've ever expressed concern about what he does, and the prospect of him being in harm's way is one you can't really abide right now.

"…No, it wouldn't be the worst thing," he muses, tone guarded as he kisses the top of your head.

"Mentiroso," you accuse acerbically and pull away, going to slink off of him, but he easily wrangles you back and pins you into place. "Javier, I'm all sweaty and sticky, so let me—"

"I like you sweaty and sticky," he croons ruggedly and starts to grope down your body. "Why am I a liar?"

"Because I know it'd be awful for you and you're saying shit just to appease me," you sneer and try to ignore how his touch is making you feel, how tingly you're getting by lying on top of him like this with his golden skin and warm muscles pressing into you. When he rumbles a laconic sound, you pout. "What?"

"Why're you so damned terca?" he jokes in a flat bass while you purse your lips defiantly. "Just let me appease you, dammit."

You don't know why, but that makes you crack a smile, unbidden, so you try to scoff and turn your face away, but he doesn't let you. He pulls you close and effortlessly maneuvers to slink you onto the bed while he sidles close and reverently caresses the backs of his knuckles along your cheekbone.

"I don't know what I'd do if something happened…" you murmur haltingly and stare into his coffee-brewed eyes, watching as they soften at the corners while his brow quirks in understanding.

"Well, I don't know either, so why bother worrying about it?" he offers glibly, and you flick your stare away. "Cariño, I've been doing this a while. I know where to draw the line. I never get in too deep…" he fibs smoothly, and kisses your cheek. "Just trust me. The last thing I'm gonna do is fuck up bad enough that I get myself killed—"

"Don't pull that flippant shit on me," you cut in, getting miffed now. "It insults my intelligence, and I do not like it. I don't presume to ask you about your work or tell you how to do it, but I can't…I can't just pretend I don't worry anymore."

Javier sobers at that and sits up on his elbow so he can look at you straight on. Your eyes are flashing with defiance, but the way your brows dip with concern and you press your lips together to flatten out? It makes it obvious what you're trying not to be obvious about.

You're scared for him.

Javier exhales moodily at himself and rubs at his eyes in frustration. "Goddammit," he grumbles. "Can we just change the subject? I'd rather talk about literally anything else," he tersely mutters and drags his hand through his hair again, obviously perturbed while you rile at that and huff.

"Hah, alright then. How about you tell me how many women you've fucked around with in your entire tenure in Colombia, hmm?" you crossly muse and sit up to lean back against the headboard and haughtily stare at him.

"…How many men have you been with?" he deflects and tries to match your haughty stare with a cavalier leer.

"About a fraction of the number of your conquests, I'm sure," you shoot back, imperious now as he tries not to get riled by the thought. "Well, if you need time to count backwards, I'm gonna freshen up," you declare and slink off the bed and into the very narrow bathroom.

Once you've slid the pocket door shut, you cheekily grin as you hear him grumble peevishly to himself. When you come out a few minutes later and expect to see him still stewing grumpily on the bed, you instead find the lamp turned off, and turn and see Javi standing at the open fridge where he's just pulled out two bottles of Postobón. He shucks the caps off and rumbles, "I'd rather not answer your question, because I know no matter what I answer, you're going to want to hit me, so instead," he turns and pauses, getting distracted by how hot you look just standing there in the nude, looking alluring with your tousled hair. He closes the fridge and holds out one of the cold bottles. "Peace offering?"

You're so annoyed with yourself for being so taken by him standing there in his nude glory, looking like a damn dish and offering you a delicious Colombian soda. Pursing your lips derisively, you take the offering and snootily turn to strut back to the bed. He chuckles and joins you, smugness cresting his features with mirth as he climbs under the rumpled covers with you and watches you swig the soda back and hum with relish. He takes a long pull from his bottle, and you watch how his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. When he sets his empty bottle aside, you surprise him by slinking close and kissing the side of his neck, and his hum becomes a groan as you suckle on his skin.

"It's so annoying how sexy you are," you grouse and scamper into his lap, straddling him as he grunts and blinks wryly at you. "Exasperating, even," is your blasé aside as you swig the bottle to your lips and guzzle down the last of your soda.

"Is that so?" he drawls and nuzzles a kiss into you sternum, cheekily holding you in place as he tilts his face up to nudge you jaw affectionately when you huff and set your now-empty bottle to the side table tucked next to the bed.

"Yes," you hiss and cup his chin as you plant a chaste kiss on his lips. "And worse, you make me want to do things to you," you purr, punctuating it by trailing your hand from his chin down his jaw and his throat, earning a shiver from him as you press it to his clavicle and nudge him to lean against the headboard before you add sultrily, "Filthy, naughty things."

Javier's eyes smolder and his lips part breathily, getting so aroused as you settle over his lap and deliberately nestle his erection against your eager, warm heat before leaning close to caress open-mouth kisses along his jaw.

"Hmmph, the feeling's mutual," he husks before scraping his teeth over his bottom lip as he seats his hands on your hips and guides you to grind your pussy over him.

You exhale to conceal your excited stutter of breath, but it's no use. He can see in your dazzling eyes how excited you are, and can definitely feel it as he ruts against your dewy folds and tastes it on your skin as he licks your studded nipple. Your hands settle at the back of his neck, caressing down his nape before your fingers fan up and comb into his hair at the back of his head when he purses his mouth over your delicate flesh and plucks a delighted sigh from you.

The filthily delicious friction of rubbing against him like this always gets you needy and wet, and the feeling of his thighs tensing with the effort of not bucking up brutishly into your heat wrecks you with pining pride. This handsome and dashing stud is yours to love on, and he's content in being driven wild by you.

"Am I still the only one?" you murmur ardently against his lips after you tug him by his hair to meet your kiss only to deny him and teasingly pull back at the last second.

You feel Javi's cock twitch against your clit as you grind over his length. "Yes," he hitches out, baritone made of gravel now as he rumbles, "You're the only one I ever want – don't want anyone else." When he sees your eyes flicker with want, he confides, "Haven't wanted to be with anyone else…just want you."

Your heart feels like a beacon lit aflame at that, and you radiate with your love as you capture his lips and kiss him with passion, draping your arms around his shoulders and letting him encircle his arms around you. Javier plunders your mouth with his tongue as he lays claim to your molten, tingling sheath with his ramrod cock. His mouth drinks you in, causing your gasp to be muffled while you are sublimely writhing in his lap before you start to ride him while he kisses you breathless.

The bed protests lowly as you start to fuck yourself onto Javi's cock with zeal, chasing the bliss he's scorched into your core and has it zinging through you to light at the pleasure point where he's buried deep inside you. He only breaks his possessive kiss to catch his breath and bite down on the moan vibrating to let loose from his chest, hand guiding your hips clutching at your supple curve while he cups the other at your nape. Your hands grip his pecs as you whimper and revel in Javier helping you quicken the pace of your lovemaking, barreling you closer and closer to the scintillating euphoria you're burning to get lost in.

Your eyes squeeze shut as you slam yourself down hard onto his cock and hit that exquisite pleasure nested inside your core, earning a reedy cry as you repeat the pivot of your hips and keep pounding Javi dead-on into that bundle of ecstasy as it pulses while your cunt ripples around his throbbing cock.

A pitchy mewl singes out of you as Javi's feral groan of desperate effort vibrates into you when he buries his face into your neck and starts to plunge up into you as you pound yourself down on him. Just as you feel his cock swell inside you, you grind yourself down on him to the hilt and climax, gasping out at the ruinous bliss of losing yourself to pleasure as you wail, "Oh Javi—!"

It's all too devastatingly fierce and divine for him, and just as you begin to mindlessly ride him through your aftershocks, Javier grips your hips and slams you down onto him as he erupts with his orgasm, harsh exclamation of pleasure no longer muffled by your shoulder as he tosses his head back while he writhes from your fluttering, quaking spasms milking him of his hot seed. He moans your name and babbles hoarsely, "—Oh fuck, oh fuck-fuck-fuck—!" as he feels your walls clamp around his cock whilst it pumps cum deep inside you, causing you to fidget from the toe-curling-and-wonderful sensation, which has Javi twitching and curling against you, seeking more of the hypersensitive friction. "Mmmph! F-Feels fucking good, baby," he rambles roughly into your jaw as you squeeze your knees around his waist and whimper salacious little sounds.

You are spent when your pleasure is pulled taut and you can feel your core trembling from the force of your orgasm, leaving you drunk and languid in his arms as you cling to his shoulders. You hungrily catch your breath as you sag into him and melt when he pulls you close and nuzzles you.

"—Hmm, m-made a mess," you mumble weakly against his neck, face burning as you feel his spend dripping out of you and onto his apex after he lounges lazily back against the headboard.

"No you didn't," he croaks, voice becoming velvet over steel as he purrs, "I did, and it feels good."

You snicker breathily and bury your blushing face into his shoulder, completely flustered by how infatuated you are with him being boastful and proud of something so decadently sinful. "…I hope you have a change of sheets. These were already filthy before all this—"

"I can't fucking move after that… 'mnot changing a damn thing right now," he mutters sardonically and squeezes you affectionately against him as he presses goading kisses into the side of your head. "Look at me, mi amor," he purrs, and you sigh wistfully and turn to face him. You're embarrassed by how watery your eyes are, how mussed and tousled your hair is as it sticks to your sweaty skin, and how you're still catching your breath, so you're panting like a thirsty, feral thing. Javier's eyes soften as he takes you in. "Eres tan pinche hermosa…" he declares as he pets your hair from your face so he can curl his palm along your cheek and swipe the sheen of sweat from the top of your cheekbone and the edge of your orbital bone. You lean into his touch and smile, buzzing and aflutter from his praise. "All the guys were drooling over you on the radio, and when they described this beautiful face, I knew it had to be you," he confesses in a murmur and brushes his lips against yours.

You hadn't even had any time to wonder just how the hell Javier had known you were at that club, and hearing it now has you glowing like an ember, rapturous as you brush your nose along his and caress soft kisses across his delectable lips.

"Drooling how?" you idly ask as you kiss his cheekbone and nuzzle his sideburn before trailing your mouth to toy with his earlobe.

He grunts appealingly and tilts his head to the side when your mouth trails delicious heat down his neck before latching on that spot that gets him burning with need. "—Hmm, how you have an ass they'd fall to their knees and worship—" Javi blurts shamelessly.

You scoff a laugh and snicker, "That is what's said over radios during a surveillance operation?!"

"When it's a bunch of hard-up fuckers, yeah," he remarks cavalierly and shrugs, and you shake your head sardonically and rest it on his shoulder, smiling when he adds, "Now I gotta hope they don't go home and lust after you—"

"Does that include you?" you tease, and elaborate when he quirks an inquisitive brow at you, "Being a hard-up fucker?"

"Yes," he grumbles and gives you a puckish sneer. "Only I got to take you home for the night," Javier punctuates his boast by reaching his hand to fondle your breast as he kisses the top of your shoulder.

"…Just for the night?"

He can feel your simmering pensiveness, and the self-conscious way you flick your glance away has him blazing. "I'm not going anywhere. Not unless you want me to," he declares with resolute feeling, and you melt, wrapping your arms tighter around him and sighing. "I want to be with you, querida," he states in an irrevocable baritone.

Forever? You think, hoping and pining, but not daring enough to ask him out loud. "I love you, Javier," you tell him and look him in the eye. "I just want to be with you too."

He's overcome with the cresting wave of pride that wells up in his chest at your words, and when you kiss him, Javi feels an incandescent feeling earth itself in his core, tethering deep and giving him something he hasn't felt before.

Javier feels like he belongs, utterly and completely. And most importantly, he feels like he belongs to you – with you.

It settles him, and has him content and sated after he's pulled you down into the rumpled bed and cuddled you until you lovingly curled to sidle his hips and fell into blissful sleep with your head on his chest and your arm draped over his stomach. He lays there and listens to your soft breathing and stares up at the slow spinning fan, thinking about how much being with you has lightened his burden and given him something to strive for that had nothing to do with bloodshed or retribution. You are his only respite, even when you were both fighting ferociously over stupid trifles.

He just doesn't know what this means long term. Would you eventually require more of him? Would you set out conditions and see if he was willing to meet them? His mind calms and starts to doze on the dim musing, I'll give her anything she wants…

It's some time before dawn when you stir, eyes fluttering as the early rays of light filter in between the seams of the drawn curtains over the window. Your head is resting on Javier's pectoral, his deep breaths soothing and wanting to keep you drowsy. Sleepily, you go to roll over and turn away from the sunlight—and almost fall out of bed. Your startled squeak wakes Javier and he catches your waist before you completely tumble off. He pulls you back and you are frazzled by his impish, albeit tired, expression.

"I told you this damn bed is too small," he murmurs and angles you to press up against his side while he yawns.

You grumble sulkily and bury your embarrassed features into his neck. "You finally get me back to your place and I almost face plant—"

"This is not my place," he corrects, and rubs at his eyes with the edge of his hand. "I have a nice big bed where I can toss you around on without ever worrying about you face planting."

"I'm sure," you deadpan and sit up, shrugging the sheet from your arms so you can stretch and roll your shoulders. Javier affectionately watches you, enjoying how grumpy you are first thing, and admiring how your breasts incline as your arms bend at the elbows from you arching the kinks out of your back. "What time is it?" you ask as you muffle a yawn before finally catching Javier's leering stare.

He reluctantly tears his coffee-brewed gaze from you to glance over at his nightstand and grab his watch. "It's a quarter to 6," he rumbles and sets it back down as you hum and start to maneuver the tangle of sheets from around your legs so you can slink out of bed. Your feet don't touch the floor before he easily loops his forearm around you and pulls you back. You make a silly sound of protest before he nuzzles kisses into your neck and mumbles, "You look so sexy—"

"You mean filthy, because I sure feel it," you giggle wryly and toy with his ear before combing your fingers into his hair.

"…That doesn't sound like a bad thing, querida," he purrs and starts slipping his hand under the sheets when you shy away and push him back. "C'mon—"

"I need a shower," you insist, and then wink flirtatiously. "Wanna join me?"

"Goddammit. I can't," he grouses and wrings his hand over his features. "The fucking shower stall barely fits me. No way we can both shower at the same time," Javier explains and scowls when you give him a teasing look. "Go, before I keep you nice and filthy," he sits up and husks before he brushes a kiss over your shoulder.

"Such a shame," you lilt as you slink away and into the bathroom, shooting him a flirty look as you turn on the light and let him get a gander at your nude form before you slide the pocket door closed.

He huffs and swings his long legs to the side of the bed, stretching and grunting, smirk quirking his lips as he reaches for his cigarette pack. As he smokes, he goes over to the window and peers out the corner of the curtain at the street beyond, frowning when he realizes he's gonna need to find a phone to call Trujillo for a ride back to Carrillo's base of operations to pick up his local ride. He cracks the window open so the fresh early morning air can filter into the stuffy studio. Turning when he hears you open the pocket door, he's surprised to see you looking meekly over at him.

"What's wrong?" he asks and you raise a brow at his unabashed nude self.

"You only have ONE towel, Javier?" you pipe in a goofy admonishing tone.

"Yeah, so?" he remarks innocently, and you scoff. "You need me to show you how to work the shower too, don't you," he drawls, amused when you purse your lips.

"…Yes," you begrudgingly admit, having glared about the narrow shower stall trying to figure out which of the 3 levers actually turned the cascade on, or which was hot water once you'd relieved yourself and hoped to quickly hop in and hop out without his help.

He chuckles, putting out his cigarette and lopes over, taking the opportunity to cheekily tap your ass as he crowds you and deviously shows you which is the hot water and how to turn the two levers to get the cascade going. You roll your eyes, but smile when he gets the water the right temperature for you before groping his hands affectionately over your form as you step in and let him shut the semi-frosted shower door. Mercifully, Javier is not a slob, so you twist your hair up and tuck the end within a self-contained chignon/bun and pick up his bar of soap from the inset dish and lather it up to work your soapy palms over your body.

You don't immediately realize Javi stayed in the bathroom until you hear the sink start running. Glancing over, you can make out his silhouette as he brushes his teeth, and you smile at how oddly domestic this is. Sure, you both have showered and gotten ready together, but this feels…quaint. As you keep bathing, Javier quickly shaves and takes the chance to watch you blithely bathe while he dries his face. He tries not to keep staring as he lifts the seat up and relieves himself, sighing. Once he's done, he can't keep his eyes away from you for long, so…he doesn't. He fixates on how your semi-frosted form skims your hands up your torso to rinse the soap off your breasts before brushing them back down to glide the water over your stomach as you tilt your face into the cascading stream.

You're rinsing the soap off your back and tenderly washing between your aching, sore thighs when you glance through the semi-frosted door and see him watching, and you don't know why it sends a tingly thrill down your body, but it does, so you feign innocence and call out, "Almost done. I won't hog all the hot water."

"I'm gonna need the cold shower at this rate," he drawls gruffly, baritone hitting that canela-smooth bass that always delights you.

You smile and maneuver back to face the nozzle and finish rinsing the last of the soap off before opening the door and letting the steam coil out and reveal your drenched, nude form. "Done. Come and switch places," you bat your lashes and gesture for the lonely towel hanging up on the rack.

Javier's eyes are molten with his insatiable urge for you, and you can plainly see what effect your sultry stunt is having on him. He grabs the towel and saunters over, pulling the fluffy material to envelop you after you step out of the stall onto the little rug. You smile, provocatively skimming your hands to his sides and maneuver him so you can slink up against him in the snug space and get by. Before you are able to strut off, though, he tugs you by the back of the towel so you have to pivot sideways and meet his impish kiss.

"Mmm, stop teasing me—" you begin to purr.

"Look who's talking," he deadpans and gives you a pat on your towel-clad ass.

You snicker and go to the sink as he huffs amusedly and gets in the shower. While your sexy lover bathes, you brush your teeth, using his toothbrush, and let your hair down so you can try to comb it with your fingers.

"I know it's early, but I have to get to a phone," Javi calls out as he washes his hair. "I need to call Trujillo to meet me."

"Okay," you remark and frown at your poofy, undulating-like-crazy hair and give up trying to tame it, since you decided not to use Javi's brush but then realized you couldn't find it anyway. You finish dabbing the towel to dry your thighs, snapping it and trying to fluff it in the air before hanging it up on the rack for him. "Do you have something I can wear over my dress? I don't want to walk around with my cleavage out—"

"Why not? It's fantastic," he offers charmingly, and you snicker.

"So that's a no?" you sigh wryly and watch him through the glass, loving how ridiculous he looks in the cramped stall you were able to easily maneuver in.

"I'll find something," he muses and shuts the water off. "Be a dear and pass me the towel?" Javi puckishly purrs as he opens the door and reaches his hand out while he scrubs some rogue droplets out of his hair.

He feels the somewhat damp material brush his hand, but when he goes to grab it, you tug it away. He grunts and keeps trying to reach for it, but you keep yanking it away every time he gets close to taking it, forcing him to huff and wring the water off his face before he pushes the door wider and glowers comically at you, only to see you holding it taut for him. When he steps out of the stall, you flop it over his head and affectionately dry his hair before working the towel judiciously down his body.

As you get to his waist, he herds you close and captures your lips in a teasing kiss. You take the opportunity to deviously wrap the towel around his hips and pinch his ass. Javi hums, and you raise a challenging brow and smirk at him, so he snickers, "Fine…I'll get another towel," before turning you around and guiding you out of the narrow bathroom and back to the main room.

The space feels less stuffy now that a nice breeze has been filtering in from the curtain-covered window, and you take the chance to sit on the bed and enjoy the cool air while Javi goes to the armoire and starts rifling through his things. Going into his duffle, he finds a soft t-shirt and tosses it at you after he grabs a change of clothes for himself. "That's probably the best I can do, preciosa," he muses and smirks when you hold up the gray shirt with Texas A&I University written in faded bold lettering and his alma mater's logo below it. As you're inspecting the well-worn shirt, he tosses his clothes onto the bed next to you and goes to collect your discarded dress and panties from the floor.

You can't help the impulse, so you raise the shirt to your nose and inhale his comforting scent. "It'll do," you chime, glancing over and catching him admiring your panties. Laughing, you quip, "Hey, give me those!" and reach over to try and snatch them out of his hand.

He pulls them away with an agility you don't expect and scoff, sneering when he smirks mischievously before he brings them up to his face and inhales their scent. "Fuck…let me keep them?"

"NO! I need to wear them home, you fresco," you exclaim and flop his shirt to cover your modesty as you hold your hand out imploringly while you imperiously stare him down. "You never did return my other pair—"

"I need a pair for here and my place," he states completely shamelessly, tone honeyed, as he lobbies, "You didn't wear a bra, so why do you have to wear panties?"

You are blushing at his raunchy reasoning. "That is so gross—" you deride and shake your head at him as you hop up and try to take them from him, but he literally holds them over his head and out of your reach. "Ay Dios mío, you freaking beyako—"

"Fine, I'll give 'em back if you let me do one thing," he negotiates, voice dipping an octave and getting you to falter in your peeved silliness to stare up at him and grunting for him to go on. "Let me go down on you—"

"Javi!" you gasp and swat his arm to try and anchor it down so you can reach his hand. "I just got nice and clean—"

"And I'll keep you nice and clean," he rumbles and hooks his arm around your waist so you have to press flush up against him, still naked with only the towel around his hips as the barrier. "I'd rather bend you over and fuck you on the bed, but the compromise is to bury my tongue inside you," he murmurs heatedly against your lips before he steals your breath with a wanton kiss.

You are buzzing, core tingling and clit thrumming at the prospect. Breaking the kiss, though, you shoot him a defiant look and purse your lips. "Panties…now," you order and hold your hand out.

Javier scoffs and deposits the garment in your hand, brown eyes trying to guilt you when you surprise him by grabbing the towel wrapped around his waist and tugging to guide him back to the bed, where you maneuver to push him to sit on the edge of the mattress after you yank the towel away and toss it. Setting your clothes aside with his at the foot of the bed, you surprise him yet again by getting on your knees and seating your hands on his splayed thighs. "Querida—"

"For being such a fucking malcriado, you're going to let me suck you off, and you cannot get me dirty," you seductively command and toss your hair behind your shoulders as you squeeze his thighs and feel his muscles flex while his chest heaves from a charged intake of excited breath. "Understood?"

"…I c-can't make any promises," his cock is throbbing as you sit back on your shins and give him a reproachful pout, but the seriousness of your glare is softened by your nude and enticing pose. "Fuck, c'mon, baby—"

"You can only spill your cum in my mouth," you levy, emphasizing the rule by laving your lips before you open your mouth and present your tongue to him.

Javier feels like he's going to combust with depraved, debauched arousal, cock rock-hard now at your sinfully divine display. His breathing is shallow from the incandescent thrill zinging through him as he bites his lip to stifle his groan. Taking himself in his hand, he strokes himself a few times before pressing this thumb into the base of his cock to angle it to drag the underside of his throbbing length along your tongue. You hum and mouth his frenulum, loving how you feel his pulse pick up as you lick him and let him guide the head of his cock into your mouth.

He exhales a stuttered breath when you purse your lips around him and pillow your tongue under his blunt tip before you start to suckle on it with luscious care, humming around it and squeezing his thighs. Javier fists his hands in the rumpled sheets, trying to control the impulse to fuck your mouth or grab you by the hair.

"Oh god—" he hitches gutturally as he tilts his head back and moans when you take more of him in your mouth and hollow out your cheeks around him.

You love how wound up he's getting at trying to keep his control while still basking in the delicious ruin you're wreaking his senses into by going down on him with gusto. Your clit is throbbing and your thighs are dying to press together for the needed friction, but you concentrate on driving Javier over the edge as you relax your jaw and swallow. The head of his cock twitches at the back of your throat from your wet and pillowed flesh pulsing against it from your moan.

"Ah—f-fuck, cariño," Javier begins to warn, setting his jaw as he pants heatedly and starts to tremble. You keep sucking, humming lusciously around him and relishing how his hips are twitching from the effort of not thrusting to chase the wet heat of your mouth. When you sink more of his cock into your mouth and make a delicious little sound, Javier starts to shake. "S-Shit, I'm gonna come—!" he hitches hoarsely and exhales when you wrap your hands around the base of his cock and stroke as you suck, searing his arousal to snap like a scalding tether that's gone loose to untangle his rapacious climax. His body jerks from the force of the orgasm you coax from him with your mouth, leaving Javi to inarticulately groan, "Oh-fuck-fuck-mmmph—!"

You feel his cock swell in your palms just before his tip twitches against your tongue and spurts hot, salty cum. Unbridled accomplishment fills you as he uses the cup of your mouth to spill his heady climax, and you prolong his bliss by swallowing, and sucking him through his orgasm.

"Holy shit, oh f-fuck," he stammers gruffly, voice thick as he recovers while you keep him in your mouth. You keep sucking on him until he fidgets from hypersensitivity. Sure he's totally spent, you let his cock slip wetly out of your mouth, albeit only slick with your saliva as you swallow his load and exhale breathily. You overawe Javier when you sit back on your heels, prettily wiping at your mouth chastely and staring beautifully up at him as if you hadn't just gone down on him like a fierce temptress.

Reaching for the discarded towel, you use it to clean him off with tender care. Javier hums in sated bliss and leans back on his elbows when you toss the towel away and kiss his inner thigh affectionately before rising to stand, snatching your panties and pulling them on, and pleasantly loping to the fridge where you retrieve another bottle of Postobón, uncap it and take a long swig before sauntering back over and lounging next to him. You kiss his shoulder and give him a smiley stare as you drink the soda while he still buzzes with alight bliss.

Just when he thinks he can't fall in love with you any deeper, you surprise him by doing something so audacious and stunning that he gets punch-drunk enamored. Needless to say, Javi has a charming, albeit doting look on his face the rest of the time you spend getting dressed before heading out together. It's a beautiful, sunny day, sky blue and clime cool. Once he's locked up, he takes your hand and leads you up the sloping street to the top of the nearest avenue, one you recognize and pause at.

Squeezing his hand, you gesture down a certain route and chime, "We're actually close to Enciso, so if you want, we can head that way to the house and I can give you a ride."

Javier looks so damned handsome, as always, wearing a mint-green short-sleeve button up under a light khaki-colored canvas jacket, trademark jeans and boots. His gun's hidden at the back of his waistband and concealed by the bomber jacket easily, so the only one between the two of you that stands out is you. Your tight purple dress is risqué and short in the day hours, and your block heels are not the best for walking long distances, but you've done worse treks in high heels, so you don't show any discomfort, but you had to fashion his grey t-shirt to better fit you. The extra baggy fabric that hit at your knees is twisted up into a knot at your back, so it looks less like you're wearing your boyfriend's shirt and doing the walk of shame, but not by much.

Eyes crinkling with intrigue, Javi gives you a smug look. "So, you'd take me to meet your grandma?" he poses charismatically, and when you purse your lips to suppress a wily smile, he winks at you. "Sure, let's go—"

"She's likely at misa anyway by now, chavón," you snicker and start tugging him along, leading the way.

Javier smirks and walks with you, and once you traverse the busy avenue and are nearing more familiar streets, you let him drape his arm around your shoulders and cuddle you close. You fall into an easy banter as you walk, every so often pointing something out to him or remarking about a certain shop or spot he should check out as you go. As you both approach the street you're staying at, you tuck your clutch under your arm and grab his hand as you cross over to the corner and get closer. When you see the gate in front of your grandmother's house is open, you slow down and get sheepish, realizing she hasn't left for her morning mass.

Your car is parked at the curb just a dozen paces away from the front gate flanked by lush rose bushes in a variety of hues, so you press your lips together as you deliberate whether you can sneak into the house, grab your real purse with your keys, and abscond before she catches you. After all, you really do not want to do the walk of shame in front of your abuela! Let alone with the tall, sexy and ridiculously debonair man at your side that will make it very clear what you've been up to.

When you get close to the gate, you literally slow down to the point Javi goes from pleasantly surveying the neighborhood to jolting when he walks ahead and you tow him back.

Looking at you quizzically, he watches you get all stoic while your eyes tense, and just when you're about to suggest he wait at your car, he snickers and leans close to purr in your ear, "Why do you look like you're going to get grounded, eh, querida?"

You flatten your lips together and exhale your tension. "Just…wait by the car while I go inside—" you begin to cautiously direct as you let go of his hand and walk to the open gate.

"Is that you arriving, lindita?"

You stiffen with mortification and internally swear as your grandmother appears from around the back of the house with her pruning shears and a few herbs in her hand, her floppy hat shading her from the sun as she peers around the tall frondy tree that's nestled at the back of the house adjacent the little plot of land she uses to grow her garden.

You internally bristle when you feel Javier brush his fingertips into the small of your back, before his soft, teasing, "Lindita, eh?" purrs in a murmur at your ear.

You coil up, but don't flail in embarrassment like you definitely want to. Instead, you wave at your grandmother as you come through the gate. "Morning, 'Buela. I'm just gonna run inside and get my car keys—" you begin to chime in Spanish, rushing and hoping she'll not notice the smug stud standing at the walkway.

"What's the rush?! I'm cooking breakfast, and came to get some culantro for the beans," she remarks in a cheery tone and walks around now to get to her porch, and when she spots Javi, her kind eyes flicker at you and see how flustered you look, so she smiles cheekily. "Ah! You're going to run out without introducing me to your friend? Nope, not happening. You're coming inside," she playfully derides and sets her shears aside on the windowsill before she tucks the herbs into her apron's pouch and dusts her hands off.

Javier absolutely loves how sheepish you're getting and can't help lope over and put his arm around you while you try to stammer a valid excuse. "Good morning, ma'am. It's vey nice to meet you. Javier Peña," he introduces himself smoothly and takes her hand, kissing the back of it while he squeezes your waist affectionately. "But my friends call me Javi."

Your grandmother gives him the same exactingly, albeit playful look you shoot him when you can't help be swayed by his charms but know you shouldn't give him the satisfaction. "Ah, well I'm not a little girl, so Javier is what I'll call you, guapetón. Now come inside! I have food on the stove," she astutely remarks and demands as she opens the screen door and waltzes through without batting an eye.

For his part, Javier is grinning, boyish dimple on full display, completely taken with how your moxie was clearly passed down to you by the spry, robust older woman with the kind eyes and clever smile.

Impishly, you elbow him in the ribs and hiss sarcastically, "I'm going to kill you—"

"You can't kill me. We're going to have breakfast," he blithely purrs and kisses your cheek before he tows you through the open screen door and into your grandmother's cozy abode.

Despite your mortified tension, Javier and your grandmother hit it off. Not that you doubted it, but you were hoping to avoid having to give her details about him and your relationship once she got you alone and could pry. After she set her hat aside, she washed up and went back to the stove while she pleasantly chatted Javi up. While she tends to the stove, she also admonishes you for being so rude and wanting to rush off with him. Glowering, you try not to shrink in your chair while Javier represses a chuckle at your expense and squeezes your knee affectionately under the table.

"Buen provecho," the jovial woman lilts.

His smile wanes when she sets down the first wave of food in front of him, and his eyes widen in shock. "This can't all be for me—"

"What?! That's a trifle. Eat!" she orders with a discordant chuckle, and you smirk as Javi stares down at the bandeja paisa and glances at you in disbelief. "There's coffee on the stove, so heat up the milk for him, lindita," your grandmother directs as she tends to the buñuelos she's frying up.

When she's got her back turned, you stick your tongue out at him and flounce away before he can retaliate, to his amused chagrin.

Once she's served up the next wave of food for you and her to share, she sits and keeps chatting with Javi as you pour the coffees into the frothing milk and spoon some raw sugar in before serving three cups to the table. Javier eats with gusto, but the sheer amount of food she set on his plate is insane, and he can't come close to finishing it, so he croaks to you playfully, "Help me?"

Your plush lips hurt from smiling so much – and other things, but mostly the smiling as you feign annoyance and nudge your chair closer so you can eat from his plate. He's enjoying the way you laugh and ease up around your grandmother, and he can't help the infectious delight zing through him as she teases you and you complain to her to quit it. This? You sidled close to him and happy? The delicious cup of coffee he's sipping and the fantastic meal in his belly? They all have him content and mellow as he converses with your grandmother.

When she idly mentions how you and your cousin got gussied up and ran out last night, you gasp, "Oh! I have to call her. Be right back," and surprise Javi by kissing him on the cheek as you go and shout back, "Do not let her show you anything embarrassing!"

He snorts and shoots a mischievous, coffee-brewed glance at her over the rim of his cup and quirks his brows when she grins like a Cheshire cat.

Once in the living room, you call your cousin's number. She answers and exclaims, "Oh my god! You won't believe what happened after you left—" and begins to fill you in on how a brawl broke out between some guys at the bar in the club, and how her, Miguel and her other friend got out just as plainclothes cops went in. "It was crazy! How did that guy know?! And girl, he is HOT! He scared Miguel though. So what—are you seeing him?! Please tell me you are because I cannot believe I let you go with him like that—"

"I'll tell you later! But did anything happen?! You guys didn't get stopped, right?" you cut in and ask, idly twirling the cord in your finger nervously.

"No, we were fine. We didn't stick around though so not sure if anything went down after that, but I haven't heard anything."

With a sigh of relief, you assure her you'll fill her in later and promise to make it up to her before you hang up and go back to the kitchen.

"Oh, c'mon! I said nothing embarrassing," you whine haughtily when you find your grandmother showing Javi a photo album.

Javier's eyes are twinkling with roguish delight as you reach for the album and he hikes it away. "Now I know why she calls you lindita. Look how cute you were. Pigtails and bangs?" he snickers playfully as he looks at your first grade picture.

"I'm going to get you back," you huff and sit while your grandmother innocently finishes her coffee, "And you are a traitor—"

"You watch yourself, missy. Just because I spoiled you doesn't mean I'll abide you being smart with me," she scolds derisively and brushes her long, graying hair over a shoulder in a snit. "Such a malcriada."

You can see the sheer glee in Javi's expression, and you pout. He's fucking loving this, and for the life of you, you can't seem to bristle in appalled anger like you feel you should. "Please put that away before I get swallowed up by the earth from sheer embarassement, 'Buela?" you chide, and she rolls her eyes and snickers, letting Javi hand the album back before she closes it and goes to return it to it's shelf in her room as she grumbles. Once she's out of earshot, you lean over and tell Javi, "My cousin said there was some kind of brawl, and plainclothes cops went into the club last night when they were leaving. She doesn't know if anything else went down, but if you want to call and check in, you can use the phone in the living room."

Javier absorbs that and sobers, nodding curtly before he leans over and plants a peck on your lips and stands, loping out to the hall and over to the living room. Once alone, you take the opportunity to melt into your chair and cover your mouth to hide the ridiculous infatuated smile that takes over your face. When your abuela comes back in and sees the beaming smile, she softens and starts clearing the table.

"I like him. Your father would hate him—" she quips in her wicked lilt, and you scoff.

"Good. What do I care anyway? Not like they'll ever meet," you huff and help her, carrying the dishes to the sink.

While you and your grandmother muse over things as you clean and store the leftovers for later, Javier is getting the recap of what happened after he'd spirited you away from the club. Once he hears the night had been a bust for sicario hunting, he asks Trujillo to meet him at the road they'd use as a rendezvous point offsite from Carlos Holguín, the police academy and barracks, in 45 minutes. After he hangs up, he spies a few picture frames in a hutch across the wall, so he peers at them. One is a duo frame, with a young teenage woman on the left and a young man on the right. He also notices a photo of a beautiful woman holding a baby, standing next to a steely-eyed man in a U.S. Naval officer's uniform, and he realizes you and the woman have the same eyes and those unmistakable plush lips. Humming, he catalogues that for later rumination and lopes back towards the kitchen.

When he nears the entry to the kitchen, he hears you ask, "Why didn't you go to mass?"

"Well, when you didn't come home, I figured you'd need something hearty for the hangover," your grandmother muses as she dries a pan and adds knowingly with a sly smirk, "And what a hangover you showed up with. From the looks of you, it was a passionate night—"

"'Buela!" you gasp, eyes wide with silly mortification as you flick your wet fingers at her before she laughs and swats you with the towel.

Javier smirks and walks in, making sure his footfalls are loud so you both can think he hadn't heard any of that as you clam up and press your lips together while she turns and smiles brilliantly.

"You two have spoiled me. That was delicious—" Javi begins to announce as he strides in and waltzes over to nudge you with his hip from being at the sink so he can take your place and finish washing the coffee cups and utensils.

"Javi, you're a guest! Go sit—" you start to admonish when your grandmother swats you with the towel again.

"Please tell me she has better manners with you? Has she at least cooked for you?" she pries, and you stare beseechingly at her while Javier smirks behind you and nods.

"She inherited your culinary talents, ma'am," he chimes amiably and loves how you relent and start putting the dried pots and pans away for her.

"What you should really ask him is when he's going to cook for me," you instigate and smirk when Javier rinses his hands clean of soap and turns the sink off before drying them with a kitchen towel.

"Well? She has a point, guapetón," your grandmother snickers and puts her hands in her apron's pouch, leaning her weight onto a hip as if she's waiting for a serious answer.

"I make a mean huevos rancheros. When she comes over to my place, I'll make 'em," he answers simply and smiles, catching your haughty squint.

"Good! Now, you two stop toiling and get out of here. You've entertained me enough," she chuckles and gives you an affectionate squeeze around the shoulders and nudges you forward towards Javi.

You are so besotted with how well that went that as soon as you grab your purse and head out with Javier down the walkway, out of the front gate, and are out of eyesight from your wily grandmother's porch, you grab his hand and tug him to rush to your car. Once you both get in to your little hatchback, you pull him by the front of his shirt to meet your hungry kiss.

After a nice, heated make out session, you push him back and purr, "I am so going to get you back, and you won't know when I'll get my retribution, querido."

Javi adjusts himself in his jeans and huffs at you. "It was totally worth it."

Wryly, you start the car and drive, following his directions as he guides you to the rendezvous point. As you drive, he tells you depending on how things go the next couple of days, he might be back at the capital with Steve to meet with the ambassador and assess next steps in their operation.

"I'll call you, and if I don't, you know you can call me, right?" he insists, hand reaching over to squeeze your thigh reassuringly.

You smile, focusing on turning up the road that overlooks most of the city and is a great spot for parking and just gazing down at the parks and neighborhoods that skirt the boundaries of the old police academy. "I don't want to call you on the satellite phone when you're working—"

"If I can't talk, I'll just tell you, cariño," he murmurs, and when you glance over meekly, he presses, "You know you can ask of me what you need, right? This…this isn't something temporary for me."

You are disarmed, and become aflutter by the earnest, resolute look he's giving you as you drive up to the spot he told you to look out for, and when you're about to answer him, you instead furrow your brow as you spot the jeep from last night as you pull up, but the man leaning at the side of it is not the plainclothes officer you saw the night before. "Javi…I think you're in trouble," you muse, and when you park, he glances away from you to see what you're talking about.

"Shit…" he grumbles, seeing that instead of Trujillo, the colonel is waiting, arms crossed over his blue polo shirt and already arching a brow at Javier. Tensely, Javi looks over at you and his expression becomes that flinty regard he's able to switch into after years of training. "…Since I'm going to get chewed out, you might as well come and meet him. He might even keep from berating me if you're standing there," he derides, and when you gape at him, he shrugs.

"…Fine. I'm the reason you got in trouble…" you mutter in a sigh and turn the car off, reaching for your purse and rumbling in an aside, "But colonel or not, he better not get nasty with me—"

"He won't," Javi drawls amusedly and you both exit the car.

As you walk over, Javier can't help reach for your hand and pull you along, earning Carrillo's intrigued quirked expression as you both approach the head of Search Bloc.

"I had to see it to believe it," the colonel muses in Spanish, eyeing you closely before he shoots Javier a sharp glance. "Trujillo told me what went down. You're lucky no targets were in play. Your little stunt would've been something I can't obfuscate with leadership—"

"Morning to you too," Javier deadpans, and crosses his arms while you stand next to him. "Listen, I know, but it isn't what you think—"

"Señorita, this agent has the impression that I give a damn about his reasoning for going into a surveillance zone to pluck you out of it, but I frankly don't care, nor do I see the need for you to be here—" Carrillo begins to calmly condescend, and is surprised when your gaze flares on him.

"We work at the embassy together. He was doing me a courtesy of getting me out of possible harms way, colonel. I would hope you don't reprimand him for something that is standard procedure for embassy officials and personnel," you find yourself curtly cutting in, and Javier has to muffle a grunt of humor as you stare the man down, imperious and haughty in your stance.

Carrillo looks from you, to Javi, and the men share some unspoken communication, as if coming to an understanding about something. Javier then introduces you formally, and you shake the colonel's hand, silently impressing him with the deft, confident squeeze of your handshake. "Very nice to meet you, miss. I apologize for my curtness," Carrillo expresses genuinely, switching to English. However, his serious demeanor never eases as he tells Javier, "When Trujillo reported in, I called Murphy—"

"…Great. And what did you tell him?" Javier mutters and puts his hands on his hips, glancing sidelong at you as you tensely cross your arms now.

"Exactly what Trujillo told me," the other man answers before gesturing with the point of his chin. "Speaking of which, he caught a chopper ride over this morning when I told him you hadn't checked in last night," he muses as you both turn to see another jeep drive up the street, obviously heading towards the three of you.

You have no time to prepare for the seeming confrontation that was brewing when the jeep pulls up behind your hatchback. When a very aggravated and clearly exasperated Murphy storms out of the car and stalks up, he's already furiously barking at Javier, "Goddammit, man! What the hell are you doin' fucking around and going M.I.A. like that—" Pausing and only realizing you're standing next to Javier when he rushes over fumingly, Murphy gives just one snide once over, and adds in a scathing drawl, "You really got one of your working girls chauffeuring you around now too?!"

Javier bristles as he feels you rile next to him, seeing the telltale shift of your shoulders winding back as rage sears up in you. "Who the fuck are you calling a working girl, you stupid-ass hick?!" you verbally slash and Steve literally skids to a halt as you advance on him, blue eyes widening and lips disappearing as he sucks them against his teeth when you tear him asunder with, "Fuck you and the chopper you flew in on, and the next time you have the audacity to come barking over at me like that, I'll slap that goddamned porn 'stash right off your face!"

Carrillo visibly tenses, but not with shock, instead pressing his curled hand to his mouth in obvious attempt to hide his amusement while Javier just grimaces at Steve as he begins to stammer, "I-I-I didn't mean any disrespect, miss—!"

Dismissively, you turn away and level Javi in your furious sights now, and his brows arch helplessly as you sneer, "Even your goddamned partner thinks you're still messing around with your ho-ass bitches, so once again, me haces el favor de irte pal carajo, puto mentiroso!"

With that, you storm off to your car, purse strap and keys in a death grip as you go, and Javier tosses his head back and clenches his jaw, muscles bunching up in reflexive animosity as he wars with his impulses, two of which involve drop kicking Steve and running after your car. However, you're currently peeling out of your spot and speeding away back down the street, so he twists up against the urge to just bellow every expletive he can think of into the sky while Steve grimaces and awkwardly watches you drive off.

"Well then…I think we should head to base," Carrillo announces glibly before slapping his hand consolingly onto Javier's shoulder. "I have to fill you in on a few things, so ride with me."

Javier shoots Steve a murderous glare as he walks around to the passenger side when Carrillo gets in the driver's side.

Once they park at the base, Carrillo hands Javi his satellite phone. "Llámala, huevón," he tells him, giving him a commiserating smirk.

"It's not that easy," Javier grumbles. "She's not that easy."

"The good ones never are," Carrillo muses and exits the car, pausing before shutting the door and walking away to add simply, "But they're always worth it."

Javi is struck by how simply summed up that is for him, and how strongly it resonates with him.

Steve has the good sense not to approach him about the fracas until after they meet with Carrillo in his office. Once he's stalking out to his car, Steve falls into hustling step next to him. "Shit, man, I didn't know—"

"That was deliberate," Javier laconically snipes as he reaches into his jacket for his cigarettes.

Actually frowning, Steve walks with him to his car and exhales dramatically before musing, "I was at least right – about you having a mystery woman. Did you not tell me because she works at the embassy?" Javi levels him with a surprised glance before he lights the cigarette he's perched between his lips. Steve shrugs. After all, he had his whole drive to think about it, and when you were laying into him, he recognized your voice and he pictured you, as you'd normally look at the consulate, which disarmed him even more. He'd not immediately recognized you, never seen you dressed so casually – so skimpily, so he'd just assumed you were one of his informants, a working girl. With the vehemence with which you lashed him, he knew he'd stepped on a landmine – something that was already a point of contention, and how you'd cussed out Javi? Well, Steve's Spanish was for shit, but even he picked up on what you'd wrathfully spat. "How long have you been seeing her?"

Javier takes a long drag of his cigarette before exhaling the smoke moodily. Leaning against the side of the jeep, he rubs at his temples. "Since before you got assigned here. Shit…on and off for over a year?" he muses, guarded. "When Ramirez described a woman standing outside of the club, I just knew it was her. It…I couldn't just sit there and not make sure," he explains haltingly, looking off ahead to the fields that skirt the terrain of the grounds.

Steve completely understands. Crossing his arms, he goes to lean back against the car too and exhales. "She's a fucking pistol…and we know she's a crack shot, so you better go beg her forgiveness," he jokes in a gravelly musing, cracking a smirk when Javier snickers and shakes his head. "I won't tell anyone. But shit, most of everyone we work with has the hots for her—"

"Not helping, Steve," Javier scoffs and broods, smoking his cigarette and ignoring the glint of the late afternoon sun catching in his eyes and causing them to flash chestnut when he shoots his partner a glare. "…Who else besides that Samson asshole?"

Steve tries to stifle an ironic grin as he shakes his head and drawls, "Aw, I was just exaggerating—" When Javi grunts and glowers, boring his surly stare into him, he relents, flippantly drawling, "She's a knockout, man. It's only natural that she'd turn heads. I've heard a couple of the fellas at Centra Spike dare each other to ask her out, then that time Mil Group were bustin' balls – but I get the impression no one would be gutsy enough to court her seriously."

Javier finishes his cigarette and drops it to stub it out with the tip of his boot. "I'm not so sure. Regardless, I can't seem to quit fucking shit up with her…" he mutters and diverts his gaze, staring off while he adds, "I'm not good at this shit. Never have been."

"Well, nothing some groveling, and maybe flowers, can't help smoothen over," Steve chortles and elbows Javi while still keeping his arms crossed. "Shit, welcome to the club, bud."

"Let's not get carried away," Javi snipes acerbically, but purses his lips with humor before asking, "Has Connie ever yelled at you like that?"

"Fucking loads of times. Tons," Steve chuckles, smiling and wryly biting his lip while he nods as Javier laughs.

While the DEA agents commiserate, you're still coming down from your wrathful mood, only managing to rein your temper in once you've hung out with your cousin and she can't stop cajoling you for details, raving about how hot Javier is and how she and her friend kept going on and on about it while poor Miguel just kept swearing he was a psycho. She's younger than you – a college student who works two jobs, so the last thing you're gonna do is give her the sordid details, let alone disclose what Javier does and why he was really there. You're able to obfuscate a good amount, and once you do relent and answer aloofly, "—Of course! Like you keep saying, he's hot. And he's amazing in bed," she grins and tells you how you definitely look like you had a wild night getting railed by him.

You toss a pillow at her and scoff, using that as the perfect cue to say goodbye and promise to not wait so long to visit again. Once you're trudging up your grandmother's walkway, you have to steel yourself, expecting a true inquisition now that you'll both be alone. Mercifully, though, she seems surprised to see you back so early, and must sense the shift in your mood, because she just kisses your cheek and asks if you want to help her paint her nails while you watch television. Smiling, you agree, and after you shower and get into a comfy blouse and short set, you help her pick out a polish and sit on the floor to paint her toe nails for her while she relaxes in her recliner. She teases you about your red nail polish being the color of wild women, and when you scoff a silly noise, she finally asks you what you knew she's been dying to find out.

"Does he treat you right?"

Instinctually, you train your expression into a placid smile, but she gives you her no-nonsense-look, so you sigh. "Yes, he does, but…things are very complicated," you muse carefully and concentrate on finishing the second coat on her right hand now.

"You sure it's not just you making it complicated?" she asks you softly, smiling when you pout. "Lindita, you're not a pushover. I helped raise you, so it's only natural you got an attitude and are tough, but you don't always need to keep your guard up. I can tell you have that man run ragged—"

"'Buela, I know I am not easy, but all he's used to is easy, and I…I don't know if I can just be fine with certain things," you cut in and explain emphatically, albeit tentative about how much to say.

Your grandmother sees the sadness crest your eyes, so she tilts your face up by your chin and holds your gaze with her doting stare. "No seas tan controladora, mi niña. Déjalo amarte."

A bit awed, you find yourself fighting to smother the lump that's forming at the back of your throat. She pets your freshly washed hair and kisses your forehead, gesturing for you to go sit at the couch and relax. You do, after you go heat up some of the food from earlier and bring her a plate. You're half dozing on the couch when three knocks rap on the sturdy front door, startling you into stark attention while your grandmother glances up from her newspaper and gives you a look that says, 'Well? You gonna get that?'

Padding on bare feet, you go to the door and open it, surprised to see Javier standing there. He's holding the screen door open with one hand, and holding a dozen red roses in his other hand, eyes soulful and expression etched in hopeful tension.

"Querida…I was hoping we could talk," Javi muses, baritone careful, but brimming with optimism when you haven't slammed the door on him. "I-these are for you," he adds and offers you the bouquet, and when you take it, you feel like your core is liquefying under the onslaught of how overwhelmed you are by the blazing love that ignites in your chest for him.

You hold them up so you can inhale their lovely scent, plush lips pulling into a soft smile, unbidden. "Where the hell did you get these? It's so late—" you begin to snicker when your grandmother adjusts her recliner forward, and you can feel the look she's shooting you. "They're lovely," you amend quickly and buzz with thrill when he smiles at you, molten gaze getting hooded when you cradle the bouquet in one arm and gesture down at yourself as you muse, "Let me put something on?"

"Sure, I'll wait here—" Javi starts remarking.

"Don't keep her out too late this time, mijo!" is your grandmother's lilting shout, as you stiffen and die of internal mortification while Javier grins.

"I won't," he shouts back, and you swat him lightly with the roses before rushing over to your grandmother and cheekily handing her the bouquet, which distracts her into gasping about how pretty they are and hurriedly going to look for a vase to put them in.

You use the distraction to squint impishly at him as you backpedal down the hall and into the room you're staying in. A few minutes later, you're in a rust-colored stretchy mid-sleeved cotton shift dress and closed-toe flats, grabbing up your purse and giving your grandmother a kiss on the cheek as you breeze out the door.

Javier circles his arm around you, and you resist the urge to curl into his side and melt as he murmurs, "I know – I'm not gonna give the neighbors a show, so I wanna take you somewhere we can talk."

"Ok…" is your musing retort, as he ushers you down the walkway and to his car, which is parked on the opposite side of the street and at the corner.

Once you're sitting next to him, he drives you northeast, and as you start to not recognize the neighborhoods or any of the landmarks in the post-dusk twilight, you glance over at him. He looks pensive, like he's thinking about something he's thought over several times now already. When you notice you're driving up a hill and farther away from houses or buildings, you can't help joke, "You're not going to finally dispose of me somewhere in the hills out of frustration, are you?"

"Christ, querida," he scoffs and shakes his head sarcastically at you. "I doubt I'd be able to get away with that. Either you'd kill me, or your abuela would—"

You laugh, brushing your hair back from swaying against your jaw and tucking it behind your ear. Your gaze softens when he huffs and reaches for your hand after you rest it close to the center console. His fingers are warm as they envelop yours.

When he pulls up and onto a desolate spot, maneuvers the jeep at a specific angle and stores his handgun in the glove compartment, he squeezes your shoulder, muses, "Follow me," and exits the car.

Bemused, you do so, and when you walk around to the back of the jeep, Javi is opening the trunk hatch, but you don't even pay it attention when your eyes widen at the view that's before you. You're standing on a flattened out lookout of a colina, and beyond the edge is all of Medellín, in all it's early evening, twinkling glory. The moon is waxy and bright as it shines down from the navy sky dusted with starlight, setting the scenic overlook in gleaming resplendence before you. From this height, you can barely hear the city traffic, muted by the hearty breeze and rustling of the trees and grass around you.

You gasp, bowled over by how beautiful the sight is.

"Hermosa," Javi purrs, pulling your avid gaze back to him. He's sitting at the lip of the trunk, watching you and admiring how beautiful you look under the moonlight. He holds out his hand, beckoning you to come sit, so you take it and find that he's laid out a blanket and there are a couple of cushions for you both to use if you want to recline in the back of the jeep and stare across at the breathtaking view.

You want to ask him so many questions, but when you stare into his eyes, you are lost and longing for him, but that stubborn zeal holds fast against your yearning. "Javi…I—I'm sorry for the way I acted," you find yourself blurting, even surprising yourself, but when he looks shocked and just stares, you forge on more confidently, "For how I've acted. I-I've had no right, being so difficult—"

He loops his arm around your back and exhales a relieved, albeit startled breath. "I wasn't expecting that…now I forgot what I was gonna say," he drawls in a honeyed tone, and you purse your lips and raise your brows. "Wait…I remember," he purrs and leans in close, brushing his nose along yours before murmuring, "I love you. And I'm sorry Steve is a fucking ass. He feels bad."

You laugh, irreverent and silly as you pull him close and brush your lips against his. "I know. He looked so freaked," you snicker and adjust so you can sidle close and rest your head against his shoulder. "I was a bitch, Javi, I'm sorry—"

"No, you weren't," he easily assures, kissing your hairline before nuzzling you.

"Yes, I was. When I thought about it, Steve believed that because of how ridiculous I looked today, and I haven't let you tell him anything so, he would only assume," you remark reasonably and shrug.

"Still. He definitely learned a lesson," Javi chuckles, and you snicker, turning to kiss his neck and sigh. "What he said—I swear I've not been with anyone—"

"I know," you tell him and pull back to cup his cheek and reassure him. "When I see him, I'll apologize. He just…he hit a nerve."

Javier scowls and caresses his hand up your back to cup the nape of your neck and presses his warm fingertips there, kneading affectionately. You relax and lean into him, enjoying how he toys with the back of your hair while you stare out at the view.

"You never got to answer me."

You furrow your brows and adjust so you can sit and turn to face him. "About?" you ask, trying not to fidget under the chilly breeze that barrels down from the cool, lush terrain. He watches you shiver, and realizes it is a bit chilly this far up so he shrugs out of his jacket and pulls it around your shoulders.

You curl into it and feel so comforted by his warmth and scent when he remarks in a musing tone, "This isn't temporary for me, querida. I know it's been…up and down, and I've fucked up before—"

"Javier, I've not been easy to deal with. I know that. It's something I have to fix," you cut in emphatically and take his hand, smiling sheepishly as you add, "I'm sorry if I've run you ragged. I…I feel the same. I just don't know what that means, for us. I've never been good at this…"

Javi softens, feeling ridiculously endeared and relieved that you've given things so much thought, and seemingly ended up on the same page as him. With a smirk, he pulls you close and settles you to sit on his thigh so he can wrap his arms around you.

You melt into him, encircling your arms around his shoulders and adjusting on his thigh so you can straddle it and nuzzle into his neck. "I love you, Javi," you whisper and curl your fingers into the hair at the back of his head, affectionately caressing them to card tenderly into the dense locks.

Exhaling a cleansing breath, Javi nudges his cheek against yours so you can turn you face and meet his kiss. He seats a hand at your back and one at the curve of your hip when you deepen the kiss, lusciously humming into his mouth as your tongues brush and tangle sensuously. You ride up his thigh when you get hot and shrug his jacket off, unseeingly toss it back into the trunk, and Javier groans when you part from his lips to suckle a kiss into the side of his neck. The hand at your hip instinctually starts guiding you as you fidget and realize you're getting tingly and warm, dress hiking up from how you're riding Javier's thigh. Blushing, you hurriedly try and catch your breath as it runs away with your quickening pulse.

"Mmm, Javi—" you begin to hitch when you go to shy away and off his thigh, but he holds you firm and slips his hand up your dress to knead the plump flesh of your ass over your panties.

He can feel how warm you are pressed down on his muscular thigh through his jeans, and his cock is throbbing at how blown out your pupils are and how sultry you look under the moonlight. He can feel you're not wearing a bra, and hums against your jaw when he cups your breast and edges his thumb over the peaked ridge of your nipple through your dress. You whimper and squirm against his thigh when he settles his mouth over your pulse and suckles.

You can feel yourself getting wet, and are embarrassed as your panties get soaked from his seductive hands wreaking delicious havoc over your simmering arousal. "Javi, w-we can't—" you begin to breathily protest when he guides you to rut against his thigh as he kisses wet fire over your jaw and captures your lips, smothering your mewl of pleasure.

"You can, preciosa. C'mon, let me make you feel good," he rumbles between kisses, and you blush, so tantalized as he encourages your thigh riding by pressing his thigh up into your heat. "That's it, querida," he croons against your ear and tugs the neckline of your dress down enough to expose your breast so he can fondle it in his big, warm palm while you grind down on his thigh and sigh at the delicious friction against your clit. "So beautiful. Want to make you feel so fucking good—"

"Javi," you whimper and clutch your hands at his shoulders, squeezing your eyes shut and panting as you feel yourself start to soak your excitement into his thigh and through his jeans. "Pl-Please—need you to touch me," is your reedy sigh as you feel yourself getting so close to bliss.

Javier easily pivots you in his arms to lie back into the cushions and blanket he laid out in the trunk, swiveling his hand to go from kneading your ass to rucking your panties to the side so he can trail his fingers through your drenched folds before rubbing them against your clit. You arch and gasp, thighs trembling as he strums your pleasure while his mouth brands delicious thrill into your neck whilst he grinds his hard-on against your hip. In a flash of incandescent delight, you're coming, and you cry out, nuzzling his throat to muffle your sounds as he coos, "Yeah, baby, come for me, just like that."

You're burning with euphoria as he passionately kisses you while you come down from your orgasm, leaving you buzzing and alight. When his fingers curve to push into your fluttering pussy, you bite your lip to stifle your eager whimper – cheeks hot as you part your thighs wider so Javier can plunge his digits to the knuckle in you.

A hand fists into the blanket beneath you while your other hand hurriedly skims down his chest to trail down his tense abs, reaching for his belt, but Javi nudges it away. "Let me touch you, cariño," he murmurs against your temple as he curves his fingers into your g-spot, lighting you up with pleasure. Your hand snakes under the arm he's leaning up on so you can grip at the back of his shirt as you gasp and writhe. "Wanna feel you soak my fingers, querida," is his velvety murmur as you arch, rutting against his hand and muffling another sound of tense need.

"Oh god—Javi," you whimper in a reedy pitch, plush lips parted as you try to not lose your breath from panting so hard. "I-I," you begin but bite your lip, shy as you try to hide your needy expression.

"Tell me, baby," he purrs and works his deft fingers in and out of your wet sheath, the loud squelching of his digits plundering your flooding cunt making you feel filled and stretched has you jerking, getting so close to orgasm, when he ruggedly purrs, "You can do it, mi amor. Let me have all of it, come for me—"

You grow taut and wail a startled cry as you come, eyes snapping wide as you are wrung by the force of your orgasm at his sinfully loving praise, apples of your cheeks burning from you blush as your rippling sheath flutters and clamps around his fingers. Javier groans in accomplishment when your slick dampens his hand as he pumps his fingers in and out of your aching pussy, prolonging your bliss. When you start to twitch from overstimulation, Javi eases his fingers out of your drenched heat and hums at how they're dripping with your glistening slick under the moonlight.

He brands his lips into your overheated cheek before purring, "Look so beautiful when you come for me, querida," and when you tiredly smile and flutter your heavy-lidded gaze up at him, you watch him dip his fingers into his mouth and savor you before sucking the digits clean. You shiver and mewl when you curl into him and seek his body heat, hand slinking up his back while the other hooks behind his nape to coax him down to let you nuzzle him. Javi grunts softly and wipes his hand of his spit on the blanket before wrapping it around the small of your back and herding you up against him. "Mmm, such a good girl for letting me have you," he croons thickly against you lips before he kisses you breathless.

Once you feel you can trust the pitch of your voice, you susurrate, "Let me take care of you?"

Javi hums, cock straining with need at your silky petition, but he shakes his head and smiles sweetly. "You've done that already, hermosa," he assures affectionately and brushes a doting kiss into your cheek before nuzzling you and murmuring, "Now relax for me."

You sigh wistfully and close your eyes, getting lost in his aftercare, how he hooks his finger in the crotch of your panties and adjusts it to cover your mound and dewy petals, tugs your dress' skirt down and eases your neckline back into place, all the while, he brushes tender kisses across your cheekbone, your jaw, and lips.

Needless to say, when he drives you back to the house once you've gathered your wits and finished basking in the post-bliss with him cuddled up in the trunk and gazing out at the view, you are glowing, vibrating with resplendent love as you stare alluringly at him. He wouldn't let you slip your hands over him, and you know he's riled up, but when you pouted at him, he just smirked and tapped your ass, telling you he'd be all yours once you're both able to hole up in a nice big bed later in the week. You snickered, and agreed, but as he nears the street, you find yourself pining already.

"I'm going to miss you all over again," you state and avert your gaze when he glances at you, astonished by the admittance. "These last few weeks were…I don't think I can do that ever again."

When you don't look over at him, he reaches his hand to your thigh and rests it close to the edge of the dress' hemline. "I promise it'll be different, mi amor," he insists in a velvety declaration. "I was fucking miserable. Steve can vouch for it," he jokes, and you snicker. "I don't want to be without you."

You rest your hand over his and squeeze after he tells you that, and you get the courage to gaze over at him as he pulls up to the curb close to your grandmother's house. "Then don't be," you tease and lean over to kiss him. Javi hums, fingertips caressing the curve of your jaw as you part. "I love you."

"I love you too," he rumbles and smiles before playfully tapping his curled forefinger under your chin as he drawls, "Now go before you get me in trouble with your abuela."

You grin and exit the car, closing the door and walking around to the sidewalk in front of your grandmother's house when you pause, getting an idea, and turn on your heel to march up to the driver's side. Confused, Javi rolls the window down to ask if you forgot something, and is floored when you adjust your purse strap high on your shoulder after you glance around to make sure no one is looking so you can shimmy your hands covertly up your dress' skirt, and seamlessly, pluck your panties down and off before offering them to him.

"Goodnight, mi amor," you chime and lean in to peck him on his awed lips before smiling and strutting off.

Javi watches you go like a man who just saw heaven, and when you're at the porch and you shoot him a wink, he presses his lips together and wets them before flashing you a dashing smirk. Once you're inside and the porch light shuts off, Javier drives away, stupid grin plastered over his handsome features while he toys with the delicate fabric before raising the flimsy garment to his nose so he can inhale your addictive, enchanting perfume. Heat instantly shoots down his body to coil in his loins, and for once, Javi is looking forward to going back to the crash house now that he has such a sinfully delicious prize that'll help him take the edge off of his arousal for you.

As you nestle under the sheets, you lie in enamored glee until your exhaustion wins out and weighs you down into a blissful night sleep.

Your thoughts are settled, doubts and insecurities quelled as your sated soul delights in being Javier Peña's one and only.

Nothing can change that now, right?

___________________

Read Chapter 10: Peach

Spanish-English Glossary:

Zona Rosa = Pink Zone

Sicarios = Hitmen

Mamacita = sexy lady; foxy woman

Perreo = Dancing doggystyle; grinding/twerking

Boricuas = slang for Puerto Ricans

¡Oye! = Hey!

Callejones = alleyways; side streets

Querida/querido = Affectionate term, akin to expressing one's want and desire

Putas = Whores; prostitutes; sluts

Pendejo = Dumbass; jackass

Cariño = darling/sweetheart

Con quien perreo no es ningún pretexto para tú controlarme = With whom I grind up on is no pretext for you to control me

Hijueputa = Son of a bitch; sunovabitch

Mi amor = My love

Malcriada/malcriado = brat/spoiled

Atrevido/Atrevida = Daring man/Daring woman

Preciosa = Gorgeous; precious

Perreando = Doggystyle dancing; grinding up on someone

Celoso = Jealous man

Bravita = Tough girl; feisty girl

Perrear = Doing it doggystyle, aka referring to sex

Mentiroso = Liar (male)

Terca = Stubborn (female)

Postobón = Brand of Colombian soda that's made in Medellín

Eres tan pinche hermosa = You're so fucking beautiful

Canela = Cinnamon

Fresco = a guy who's being 'fresh', or naughty/pervy

Ay Dios mío = Oh my god

Beyako = Puerto Rican slang for horny/naughty guy; akin to "horn dog"

Misa = Mass (church)

Chavón = a man that's pestering you

Lindita = little cutie; pretty little girl

'Buela = short for 'abuela', aka grandmother

Guapetón = Super handsome, good-looking guy

Buen provecho = Bon apetit

Buñuelos = Cheesy fritters; doughy puffs

Señorita = little lady; miss

Me haces el favor de irte pal carajo, puto mentiroso = Do me a favor and go fuck yourself/go to hell, you fucking liar

Llámala, huevón = Call her, dummy

Colina = Hill

No seas tan controladora, mi niña. Déjalo amarte = Don't be so controlling, sweetie. Let him love you.

Mijo = short for "mi hijo", a term of endearment akin to "my son/sonny"

Hermosa = beautiful

Thanks for reading! Please consider leaving a comment and sharing your feedback. I would be eternally grateful.

[roosterforme]

Don't Waste Another Minute | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When you finally recognize that you have been hanging onto your relationship for all the wrong reasons, you end things. You knew there would be someone better for you, and it was a welcome realization to see that he had been right there in front of you the whole time. 

Warnings: Fluff, angst, asshole Jake, drunk Jake, reader dumps Jake, crude language, alcohol, swears

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more. Banner made by @mak-32

As soon as you told Jake that you thought he'd had enough to drink for one night, he called you a bitch for the fifth time. It was mortifying. Because this time your boyfriend said it in front of his friends instead of just quietly whispering, "I'm gonna need you to stop acting like a bitch."

The area around the pool table went quiet, and it took everything inside you to keep your head held high. His friends weren't the ones who had to deal with the aftermath of angry, drunk Jake. You were. They weren't constantly getting yelled at for hiding his keys when he couldn't walk straight. And they weren't driving around in a car that still smelled horrendous weeks after he threw up a bottle of Jack Daniels next to the center console. You were. 

Your lips were shaking as you met his glassy, green eyes. And then Bradley Bradshaw stepped forward and put a hand on Jake's shoulder. "That's not cool, Hangman," he said, his voice deep and angry. He set down the bottle of beer he had been nursing and met your eyes with chocolate brown ones that somehow made you feel a little more grounded. Then he added, "I think you should apologize to your girl."

Just as Jake scoffed, you returned your attention fully to him. You pressed your lips together until you were sure you could speak without making a fool out of yourself. "No. I'm not his girl. It's been a long time since that was something I wanted to be. I can't do this anymore, Jake." 

As you dug his car keys out of your pocket, he slurred, "I should have dumped you months ago. You don't even know how to have fun. You're just a stuck up bitch."

You tried your best to ignore him as you handed his keys to Javy and softly asked, "Can you make sure he gets back to his place safely?"

"I will," he promised, nodding at you. Then you glanced around the group of aviators you had become fond of over the past several months since Jake first brought you here. You were going to miss them, especially Bradley and the soft smiles he always gave you. And the way he just stood up for you. 

But right now his handsome face looked stony as he shook his head at Jake. You ran your hand along Bradley's arm and tried your best to smile at him as you left the group and started to dig your phone out of your pocket. "Bye," you whispered to nobody in particular. You'd get an Uber and go back to your place and snuggle up in bed, and you'd be fine. You knew you would. 

As you headed for the door, you heard Bradley angrily say, "I wish you would have had the balls to dump her months ago. She's too good for you."

That made you smile as you pushed the door open and let the cool night air and the sound of the ocean wipe your senses clean. If you were being honest with yourself, you probably only stayed with Jake for as long as you had because you were afraid he was going to hurt himself or someone else one of these Saturday nights. The sting of embarrassment was worse right now than the pain of breaking things off with him, and that fact let you know you did the right thing.

You shivered as you looked up at the moon and the smattering of stars that were visible this close to the city. And then a massive body slammed into you, which you realized was probably your fault for standing so close to the exit. 

"Shit!" grunted a deep voice.

"I'm sorry-" you started as a big arm wrapped around you, steadying you.

"It's you," Bradley said when you looked up at him over your shoulder. "You're still here."

"Yeah... it's just me." You sounded a little breathless. You noticed you felt safer after ten seconds with his arm wrapped around you than you ever had when you were with Jake.

Bradley cleared his throat and slowly released you. "I just wanted to see if you needed a ride home. You know, since you left Jake's keys with Javy."

You turned to face him fully and took one big hand in yours before anyone else could exit the bar and slam into both of you. With wide eyes, he followed you willingly as you walked backwards toward the railing. "I'm fine," you assure him, letting go of his warm hand with an embarrassed shrug. "I'll get an Uber and have someone who didn't just witness my ex boyfriend call me a bitch before I dumped him take me home."

"He should have never said that," Bradley rasped, eyes fixed on your face. "He overdoes it on the weekends, and I'm sure he doesn't actually think you're a... well, you know. You're sweet. Everyone knows that."

You smiled softly up at him. "Thanks," you whispered. You let yourself indulge in committing to memory the way Bradley Bradshaw just said you're sweet. Because it made you feel warm inside. Then you entered your passcode and opened your Uber app, but before you could do anything else, he took your phone out of your hand. 

"Let me take you home," he said as you reached for your phone. But he tucked it behind his back. "That way I'll know you get there safely."

You reached your arms around him but he took both of your hands in his as your chest brushed the front of his shirt. "Did you put it in your back pocket?" you asked as you cocked your head to the side, only pretending to be annoyed. 

"Maybe," he replied with a grin as he squeezed your hands. "But you won't need it until I drop you at your place anyway."

You studied his face. The orange flicker of light from the lamppost in the parking lot bathed him in softness as he waited for you to respond. The only time you ever saw Bradley get drunk was on his birthday when Natasha drove him home. But he'd been funny, never crass. He'd even carried you from the jukebox over to the piano when he insisted he could do a better rendition of Changes than David Bowie. You smiled at the memory, and then he was smiling back at you.

"You just had that one beer tonight?" you asked softly, already knowing the answer. You supposed he drew your gaze more frequently than you were ready to admit. Especially in the past month or so. 

"Yeah," he replied immediately. "That's all I usually have."

"I know."

There was a beat of silence between the two of you. Your words felt like an admission, and you wanted to know how he'd respond. He laced his fingers with yours and said, "I'd never do anything to put you in danger. Been drinking just one beer on Saturday nights in case you were too far gone to get Jake and yourself home safely."

Now you weren't sure what to say. He'd been silently paying attention to you this whole time, too. No wonder you felt safe around him. "Okay," you whispered, and Bradley very hesitantly released your right hand. But you stayed close to his side, your left hand still held tight in his, and he started to head toward his Bronco.

Silently he unlocked the passenger side door and helped you climb in. "Thanks," you muttered, but then he removed his hand from yours, and you suddenly shivered as he closed the door. You thought of your apartment briefly, wondering if Jake's hoodie was hanging in your closet and thinking you'd just throw away the framed photo of the two of you in Venice Beach. It didn't really hurt to think about it, but you didn't feel the need to mourn over it either.

Then you realized Bradley had already turned right out of the parking lot and then made the first left. "You don't need directions?" you asked him as he went straight through the green light. 

He laughed softly but kept his eyes on the road. "I remember where you live. I picked the two of you up there once."

You remembered it, too. He had opened the door for you and helped you into the Bronco that night as well. He had been wearing the same shirt he had on now. And he smiled at you the same way. 

But you were still surprised he knew which street to turn down and which building was yours. "You can park in one of the visitor spots," you told him as your heart swelled with nervous excitement when he shifted into park.

Bradley paused with his hand on the key in the ignition and turned to look at you. "Will you let me walk you up?" When you nodded without hesitation, he killed the engine and smiled at you. And a few seconds later, your fingers were laced with his again. And you were climbing the stairs up to your apartment door. 

"Thanks, Bradley," you murmured, glancing up at him, unsure how to ask when you might possibly see him again after this. You didn't have his phone number, and you had no real reason to keep going back to the Hard Deck, but you wanted to see him again.

And then you felt a little embarrassed by it all. Sure, he remembered where you lived and he had been looking out for you. But you just broke up with Jake earlier tonight, even though things felt like they had been over for a lot longer. And you didn't want to rebound with his coworker of all people, especially since Bradley had you feeling like you wanted him to wrap you in his arms and make you feel safe all the time. 

And now you'd been standing in front of your door for long enough that it was about to become awkward unless one of you said something. But you were afraid the words on the tip of your tongue would be enough to shatter the moment if you said them. 

Your eyes caught on the scars on Bradley's neck as he swallowed hard. "Anytime you need a ride or... anything, I'll be around," he said with one of those soft smiles. But when he went to remove his hand from yours, you wouldn't let him. And then that smile slipped as he took a step closer to you. 

You decided to say the words and shatter the moment, because you had nothing to lose. "Do you want to come in for a little while?" you asked, and Bradley was nodding immediately.

You didn't expect him to keep his hand in yours as you closed and locked the door and showed him around the small space. You'd spent time with Jake in all of these rooms, but as you listened to the deep rumble of Bradley's voice and his soft laughter, you knew you'd sooner recall these memories once he was gone. But you didn't want him to leave at all, even though it was almost midnight. 

"Do you want a glass of water?" you asked him.

"Sure," he replied so quickly, both of you laughed. And then he commented on the books you'd left out on your table while he drank his water very slowly.

"I have more of the books from that series in my room."

"Oh yeah?" he asked, still hovering close by. "I only read the first two."

You simply took him by the hand again, and he went along with you, leaving the glass of water behind. When you paused in your bedroom doorway and reached in to turn on the light, you laughed and said, "You still have my phone in your pocket."

"I know," he replied, his gaze dipping down toward the floor as he blushed. "I've been holding it captive, trying to figure out a way to ask you for your number."

"Really?" you asked, stepping closer and coaxing his gaze up to yours. 

He nodded as he squeezed your hand again. "Feels like some sort of violation of guy code if I ask for it the same night you broke up with Jake. But I really don't want to leave here until I shoot my shot."

You gasped. Bradley Bradshaw. Wanted to shoot his shot. With you. "Shoot it," you said so softly, you weren't sure if he even heard you. But then his eyes went a little wide, and that smile you liked so much was back. 

"Alright." He cleared his throat and chuckled, cheeks still pink as he said, "Hey, so, here's the thing. I've actually had a massive crush on you for months. And I'd love to get your phone number. And I realize that you just got out of a relationship, so I don't mind waiting a few weeks to use it."

You were still holding hands as you pressed your lips to his cheek, and then his free arm wrapped around your waist. You kissed the edge of his mustache, and his fingers flexed against your back. "You can have my number, Bradley."

He sucked in a deep breath as you kissed his cheek again. "Okay. Cool. That's good. And uh... how long do you think I should wait before I call you?" he asked, and you couldn't tell if he sounded more nervous or more excited. 

"You could call me tomorrow," you whispered, still amazed at how safe you felt around him. "Or you could stay a little longer. Maybe we can start the third book in the series? If you want to."

"I want to," he said softly and immediately. "I want to do both. Call you tomorrow and stay a little longer."

When you tugged him toward the bookshelf next to your bed, he followed, his eyes on you as you reached for the third book. You toed your shoes off and kicked them aside as you asked, "You coming?" Then you crawled across your bed, leaving room for Bradley. 

He only hesitated for a second before he yanked both shoes off and placed them near yours. Then the sight of him easing himself onto your bed and slowly settling back against the headboard next to you left you aching to put your lips on his face again. He was giving you that same warm smile he always did, and now you realized you'd been craving these glances in your direction for a long time. You'd been seeking out his smile at the bar and at barbeques and on beach days. 

He cleared his throat a little nervously, probably because you were staring at him now. "Do you want me to read it out loud?" he asked, his voice so raspy, it set off goosebumps along your arms. You replied by setting the book on his lap and scooting a little closer, because you wanted to shoot your shot, too.

"In a minute." You brought your hand up to his face and brushed his stubbled, rosy cheek with your fingers before you kissed his lips. And it was just that simple. A soft press of your lips against his, and you were in the midst of the best kiss of your life. Not necessarily the needy kind where you wanted to tear his clothes off, but the kind where you were aware of every nerve ending in your body. But you already knew, if you let them, your feelings for Bradley would escalate into more.

With your forehead resting on his and your lips hovering over his mustache, you smiled and said, "Okay, now you can read the book."

He laughed softly and kissed you one more time before you eased yourself away from him. Then you curled up against his side, and he brought his arm around you as you helped him hold the book open. Nothing could have prepared you for listening to the words of your favorite story read in his voice. You barely moved, your lips pressed together as his steady, deep voice and his warm scent had you slowly melting. 

Bradley read and turned the pages one handed, your cheek on his shoulder and your arm creeping around his midsection. You had no idea how much time had passed when he whispered, "Do you want me to stop?"

You didn't. It had been forever since you felt like this. Comfortable and safe. Maybe you'd never felt this way before. Like you were absolutely certain this man wouldn't hurt you. Like you were sure he'd never call you a bitch in front of his friends or in private. But you didn't know if it was okay to keep holding onto him. 

"You can take the book home with you," you told him as you sat up slightly. But he made no move to get out of your bed, and you didn't ask him to. So you just settled right back where you were, and you felt Bradley's lips brush along your hair as you fell asleep. 

-------------------------

Loud, angry pounding noises did not belong here right now. No, Bradley was enjoying sleeping on a soft cloud with his dream girl snuggled up next to him. Everything was warm and perfect and smelled nice. Why was there still pounding? He cracked his eyes open to find you starting to stir next to him. You stretched and made a cute little noise as your chest bumped his ribs, and then your eyes opened wide.

"Oh," you gasped, quickly pulling your arm away from where it had been thrown over his midsection. "Bradley." Your voice was a combination of surprise, disbelief and pleasure, and he wanted to make sure you were okay with the impromptu sleepover, but there was still someone pounding on your front door.

He cleared his throat, but his voice was still raspy from sleep as he said, "You want me to go yell at whoever that is?"

"No," you replied as you climbed on top of him and kissed his lips. Bradley wanted to put his hands everywhere on you, but he kept them at his sides, still unsure about what he was allowed to do right now. "I'll be right back. You stay here."

Then you were out of bed and across the room, glancing back with a smile before you vanished through the door. Bradley's heart was pounding as he let his head sink back against your pillow. Okay, he needed to play this cool. He couldn't fuck this up. He'd been waiting months for you to realize Jake wasn't good enough for you, and he'd been spending months trying to make sure he would be, given the opportunity.

Your phone was still in his back pocket along with his, and he pulled them out to check the time. But when he looked at your lock screen, he saw that you had seventeen missed texts from Jake. And now he thought he heard Jake's voice in your living room. 

Bradley was out of bed instantly when he heard you ask, "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I came to apologize, but it looks like you should be the one apologizing to me." That was definitely Jake's voice, and he was definitely pissed off. 

"I don't know what you mean, Jake," you said as Bradley walked slowly down your hallway. He shoved both phones in his pocket and kept himself out of sight. "If you want to apologize for constantly calling me a bitch, then go ahead. Otherwise, just leave."

Jake laughed in a way that made Bradley's hands clench into fists. "You got a lot of nerve talking to me like you think I'm stupid. I saw his Bronco outside. I know he's here." Bradley squeezed his eyes closed and took a deep breath, and then Jake loudly said, "I knew you were a bitch. How long you been fucking Bradshaw?"

"I'm not," you insisted, your voice shaking. And as much as Bradley had loved reading your book to you and snuggling in your bed all night, now he wished he hadn't stayed. Because you didn't deserve this. 

"You really expect me to believe that?" Jake asked you maliciously. "Where is he, you fucking slut?"

"Don't you dare call her that," Bradley practically growled as he stormed into the living room. Jake was standing too close to you, and he didn't like that. But you were standing your ground as you turned to look at Bradley with some tears shimmering in your eyes. "I never touched her, and she never touched me. So just apologize or leave."

"Fuck you, Bradshaw," Jake spat. "I don't have to listen to a single fucking think you say."

"Get out of my apartment," you demanded. "I dumped you last night for a reason: you drink too much, and you're mean to me. And it was a long time coming. Just go."

Bradley could sense Jake's hesitation, so he took a few steps closer until he was standing right behind you. He made eye contact with him, just daring him to try something. Because Bradley wasn't in the mood to listen to him saying nasty shit about you, especially not when Jake interrupted the start of something so perfect. 

"Go," you repeated. Jake looked you up and down from head to toe and shook his head before he finally turned and slammed your front door behind him. 

"Are you okay?" Bradley asked softly, wishing he knew if it was okay to touch you. 

"Yeah," you whispered before turning and throwing your arms around his neck. 

Bradley let his hands settle on your waist as you looked up at him with bright eyes. He didn't feel bad about stepping on Jake's toes any longer. "I'm sorry if I made things worse for you by being here. But I can't really bring myself to apologize for falling asleep with you, because I liked it so much."

You laughed. It was the prettiest sound. And then you kissed him again with more heat this time, and Bradley had to convince himself to do this the right way. "Hey," he whispered as he broke the kiss. "I still need your phone number."

"Okay," you replied, and you whispered it to him as he entered it into his phone contacts. 

"Okay," he echoed as he handed your phone over for the first time since he took it from you outside the Hard Deck. You didn't even flinch as you swiped away the texts from Jake. "Now, here's what's going to happen. You ready?"

"I'm ready," you told him with a hesitant smile.

He kissed you one more time before he started to back away toward your front door. "I'm gonna go, but I'll call you."

"You better," you replied, and your smile was a little more sure now. 

"I will," he promised. "Just wait." Then he opened the door and closed it behind him as he tapped your name on his phone screen. 

You answered immediately, a giggle in your voice. "Hi, Bradley."

"Hey, so you know how you said I could call you today?"

"Yes," you replied, clearly smiling. "I do recall saying that."

"Great. So I was thinking I'd head home quick to get changed, and then I could come pick you up? Maybe we could get breakfast burritos and coffee from Lucy's Takeout? Go sit on the beach with the book?"

There was a beat of silence before you said, "That sounds nice."

"Then it's a date."

Bradley was all smiles as he ended the call and knocked on your door. When you opened it a second later, he leaned in and kissed you. "I actually need my shoes," he murmured against your lips, and you started laughing. 

"Wait here," you told him before you dashed toward your room and then returned holding his shoes and the book. Bradley slipped his shoes on and took the book in one hand as he pulled you close with the other.

"I'll be right back. Like seriously, it'll be embarrassing how quickly I get back here."

You buried your face against his chest and whispered, "It'll be embarrassing how much that makes me smile."

He had to force himself to leave after that, because the sooner he got back to you, the sooner he could start making you his.

------------------------

Just imagine Bradley reading a book to you on the beach while also feeding you breakfast. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[disgruntledspacedad]

The Rules of Engagement (2/5)

part of the The Better Love Series 

pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader

summary: (slow-burn, sexual tension, angst, a little bit of h/c in later chapters) He’s a DEA agent. You work for Centra Spike. Peña’s not your boss, exactly, but you’ve been fwb long enough that certain people are starting to think of you as An Item, and that just won’t do.

words: 5.9k

warnings: 18+ for alcohol, language, smut, violence. we are starting to earn that m rating now, folks

a/n: at the end. unbeta’d, as always.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

MASTERLIST

You wake the next morning feeling better than you have any right to feel, given the guaro you’d drank last night. You tiptoe into the living area to check on Javi. He’s slumped over, one arm thrown over his head, the other crushed under the throw pillow, blanket crumpled on the floor below him. He’s snoring softly.

You grimace, just knowing that it’s going to be a rough morning for him.

You start with coffee, naturally. While the water is heating, you rummage through the kitchen, not making any particular effort to be silent - Javi has to wake up eventually - but still trying to keep from banging around too much. 

“Fuck,” you hiss, staring indignantly into the fridge. You’d cooked all the eggs last night, and there’s nothing left for breakfast. 

“Whhhaa?” Javi sits up slowly. All you can see is a dark bird’s nest peeking over the sofa. Given last night’s realization and your fascination with his hair, you decide that’s probably a good thing. 

“No groceries in,” you admit apologetically. He’ll have to make do with coffee. 

“Ugh,” you hear him groan from the living room. He must have slumped forward or something, because you can’t see him anymore. “Ears.” His voice is pathetic. 

You pour the coffee into two mugs, automatically adding creamer to yours, sugar to his. It occurs to you that making Javier Peña’s morning cup of coffee should not come so naturally to you. 

You roll you eyes at the thought. All the more reason for this to stop.

He’s doubled over on his knees, head in hands, fingers carding through his wild hair. You bite your lip. 

He does look pitiful, and admittedly, you are partially to blame. You set his coffee down in front of him, along with a couple of aspirin tablets. “Here,” you do your best to keep your voice soft. “This’ll help a little.”

He glares darkly at you, looking like an indignant little boy, and reaches for the coffee. Gulps. Grimaces as he burns his tongue. Slams the cup down. Sighs. Picks up the pills. Tosses those back, too. Closes his eyes. Falls back onto the sofa as easily as he’s able with his aching head. 

Okay, then. Javier Peña is not a morning person. You’d known that already - it’s endearing, but old news. Javier Peña with a hangover, though, is an absolute drama queen. This, you file away as new information. 

You reach for his coffee cup and refill it. 

He side-eyes you as you approach him with his second mug. “You,” he says accusatorially, pointing a crooked finger in your direction and leering in a way that’s both disturbing and appealing. “You promised me magic eggs.” 

“You’re not wrong,” You tell him, settling down with your own coffee cup. “But I did say to hold off on that last shot, too, didn’t I?”

He growls, eyes world-weary and bloodshot, and reaches for his mug. “Point,” he admits reluctantly. “Ugh.”

“If you’re going to puke, please try to make it to a trashcan first, preferably the one in bathroom,” you tell him as you start rummaging around the cabinets for anything that could be remotely edible. “The tiles there are easier to clean.”

“Christ,” he whines. “I’m not that fucked.” He stands, then wobbles, bracing himself on the back of the sofa and breathing heavily, looking a little green. 

“Right,” you say dryly, turning back to your cabinets. Cereal, but your milk has probably gone off by now. There’s a pack of lentils in the back of pantry that you’d bought god-knows-when, but those take far too long to be cooked for breakfast, and besides, who even likes lentils anyway?

You jump as Javi presses his chest against your back, looking over your shoulder to inspect your depressingly empty cabinets. “Looks like we’re shit out of luck,” he grumbles as you try not to react to the fact that you can feel the rumble of his voice as he speaks. “What kind of woman are you, anyway?” he wonders aloud as he reaches around you to rifle through your disappointing pantry. 

You whirl, jabbing him with an elbow. “The kind who doesn’t cook you breakfast!”

He smirks at you, moving closer, and oh, that caffeine must be working, because he’s grinning now. “Oh really?” he asks, damn near pinning you to the cabinet doors. “Because that’s not what I remember from last night.”

You roll your eyes, side-stepping him before he starts grinding into your hips. You couldn’t avoid reacting to that. 

“What you remember was a rescue mission, Peña, not domestic bliss. If I hadn’t made you those eggs, you wouldn’t be capable of standing here teasing me this morning, and that’s a promise.”

His smirk softens into a genuine smile. “Well then, I owe you one, I guess.” He glances at his watch, then back at you. “Let me take you for breakfast? There’s a little cafe down the street that’s quick and discreet.”

You turn to frown at him, bag of lentils rattling as it drops to the floor. 

He stares right back at you, naked save for his boxers and socks. His hair is a mess, his face a little swollen from last night, eyes just a tiny bit glossy, but his expression is dead serious. He holds a hand out to you, as if he’d like to escort you down the stairs right now. 

You can’t help it. You laugh. 

He rolls his eyes, downing the rest of his coffee in one go and setting the cup on the counter as he approaches you. “Ears,” he says softly, and something in you fucking trembles at that voice, all cracked and hoarse in the early morning. “I owe you breakfast.” He reaches for your hands, gathers them to his chest. “Let me.”

You tilt your face up, as if you expect him to drop a kiss on your forehead, then jump back as if burned. His erection is digging into your thigh, needy and insistent, and it takes everything in your power to step away instead of grinding into him. 

You take a deep, shaking breath, feeling yourself flood with need for him. He’s looking at you, far more observant that he ought to be capable of, as hungover as he is, and it spikes something resentful in you. 

“Yeah?” you say, keeping your voice light and teasing. “You gonna do something about that, first?”

He doesn’t even pretend to be confused, just reaches down to blatantly adjust himself. “If you aren’t, I guess,” he says evenly, one brow cocked in question. 

Goddamn it. 

You lick your lips, an unconscious move that makes his cock twitch. 

You swallow back a smile, suddenly relieved. Even if it doesn’t feel like it, you still have the power here. “Nah,” you grin up at him, teasing, swiping your tongue behind your teeth in a way that you know drives him crazy. “It’s hardly been a week, remember? I’m not that desperate yet.”

His gaze narrows as he sizes you up. A hand deliberately slips beneath the hem of his boxers. “You sure, babe?”

“I’m sure you’re more than capable of handling that,” you tell him sweetly. 

The expression that answers you is predatory. “I’ll just borrow your shower, then.” He winks at you. “Be ready in ten.”

♠

You’re ready in five. 

He takes an absurdly long time. You halfway consider banging on the bathroom door to remind him not to run out your hot water, but decide not to give him the satisfaction. Just as you’re starting to get truly annoyed, the water shuts off. He opens the door moments later, all wet and dripping, towel hanging low over his hips. 

Asshole.

He makes no issue of changing in front of you, but hell, you aren’t going to leave, either - you need access to your own bathroom, for godssake - and you do your best not to look at his glistening skin as he slips into yesterday’s clothes. You tell yourself that it’s no big deal, we all have bodies, and his is nothing you’ve never seen, anyway.

You can’t help but notice, though, when he bends over, fully dressed, and snatches a pair of your panties from the floor. 

You eyeball him from where you’re perched on the counter with your feet in the sink. Javi meets your gaze in the mirror and holds aloft the panties, draping them suggestively over his chest, and then, before you can even scowl at him, he’s winking at you, balling them up and stuffing them into the back pocket of his jeans. 

The fuck??

You decide not to say anything. They’re just cotton undies, some of your favorites, sure, but comfy, not sexy. Complaining will definitely give him points. Instead, you roll your eyes hard enough to dislodge your contacts, forcing yourself to sulk open-mouthed in the mirror as you blink to settle them back into place.

By the time you’ve done that, he’s standing beside you, brushing his teeth as if nothing is amiss. 

You glance down. Even with a second day of wear, those jeans are tight enough that you can clearly see the outline of your panties in his back pocket. 

Motherfucker. 

“Ready, Ears?” he asks as you finish tying back your braid. Cool as fucking anything. You can’t even tell he’s hungover, the absolute cuntstain. 

“Sure.” You hop down from the sink, allowing him to catch you, even though it’s totally unnecessary. For just a second, your body is pressed against his, heat and damp of the shower emanating from his skin, his belt digging into your belly.

He grins down at you, bright-eyed and thoroughly obnoxious, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. “So this place has the best waffles…”

♠

You make it to the office just after 0830. Not late enough to truly raise eyebrows, but your face still flames as you slip into your headset. Nobody bats an eye except for Torres, who glances up suspiciously. You shake your head at him, and he ducks back down, attending his station as if he’d never noticed you walk in.

Work keeps you busy. The Search Bloc boys are swarming, prepping this and that for their afternoon excursion to Medellín. Centra Spike is flying two teams over the targeted neighborhood, doing their best to patch in for any last minute intel, and the whole day devolves into chaos.

You’ve forgotten all about Javi until you happen to pass him in the hallway on your lunch break. He’s in full Agent Peña mode, talking to Murphy with his fists on his hips, flaying his leather jacket out behind him like a pair of demon wings. You can’t help but notice the outline of your panties bunched up at the bottom of his left back pocket. 

The contrast of the image, the smooth as silk DEA agent displaying the outline of your fucking underwear on his ass for all to see and wonder about, is enough to set your body on fire.

You make a quick detour to the bathroom, hunching over the sink to look in the mirror. The woman staring back at you has wide eyes and swollen lips. Her cheeks are burning. Her braid is frazzled, and she’s wearing a stunned, dumb expression on her face. 

‘Oh, honey,’ you think condescendingly to your reflection, ‘you have no chill.’

It occurs to you, suddenly, that the women’s bathrooms at the CNP Headquarters are frequently cleaned and rarely used. Mirrors surround you on three walls. Anybody could walk in behind you, lifting your skirt and pushing aside your panties as he thrusts into you, and you could watch it all from your position over the sink.

Shame and desire are literally flooding you. Angrily, you enter the nearest stall, dragging your soaked panties down your legs. You bundle them up and swipe at yourself with them, stuffing in the wastebasket with a growl when you're done. 'That’s two pair of undies that man has lost me,' you think viciously, cursing your body for reacting so strongly. Goddamn Javier Peña for taking your underwear to work with him in the first place, the kinky-ass kleptomaniac bastard. 

There’s too much going on for you to be preoccupied like this right now.

You exit the bathroom when you fucking finally feel clean again, smoothing your skirt over your ass and checking yourself out once again in the mirror. 

This woman still looks a little flushed, but her eyes are glittering now, narrowed in annoyance. You definitely don’t have any panty lines to worry about. You smooth down the flyaways that are attempting to escape your braid and sigh, thinking you can easily pass for just having a busy work day. 

It’ll have to do.

♠

Search Bloc is scheduled to board the chopper at 1400 hours. 

It’s no big deal. You know with all your heart that your intel is good - you’d triple checked it twice before even handing it to Javi - but something about the hustle and bustle at the embassy has you on edge. You make your way to the landing pad, not even trying to justify a reason for being there. 

You just want to see Javi one time before he leaves.

And there he is, standing just afield of the chopper with Murphy and some other member of the Colombian brass whose name you hadn’t bothered to learn. Their heads are pressed together, hair waving in the wind of the chopper blades, shouting, pointing. 

Your heart speeds. Javi’s wearing that fucking bulletproof vest, the green one that hardly covers him in any capacity that actually matters. Dread pools in your belly as you take him in - salmon colored shirt sleeves exposing tanned arms, padded armor that extends over his subclavian artery with less breadth than a teenager could get away with wearing in a typical high school classroom. His heart is covered, thankfully, but his neck is vulnerable, as is most of his shoulder. One of your good friends had been a medic in Desert Storm, and you’ve heard enough of his horror stories to know that a gunshot wound to the clavicular area is nearly always lethal. Never mind one to the neck or head. 

You take a breath, then another. You’ve done your job. You know without a doubt that the conversation you’d listened to, over and over, had verified Verdugo’s presence in Medellín. 

More importantly, you’re confident in Javi’s abilities. He’s sharp, and he’s a survivor. He can protect himself, you’re sure of it. 

As if he’d sensed your thoughts, Javi whirls, looking back at you with his hand raised to block the sun. You meet his gaze, waving subtly in acknowledgement. 

“Be careful,” you mouth, not certain if you’re close enough for him to read you lips. 

Please. 

His only response is a sharp nod. 

♠

It’s barely been a day, and already it’s burning a hole in you, missing him. 

You tell yourself that it could just be libido that’s burning a hole in you, too.

He’s left one of his shirts on your floor, the asshole. It’s the yellow one that reminds you of your neighborhood mailman back home. You pick it up and immediately throw it in the dirty laundry, quick as if it had burned. You don’t want to see him. You don’t want to smell him.

You just want him safe.

You sit on your sofa, staring idly at the lopsided stack of playing cards that he’d left half-shuffled on your coffee table. 

♠

Rumor is at Centra Strike that the Search Bloc team has run into some “legal problems.” The situation is pending intervention by the local authorities. 

“There’s nothing for you to do, Ears. Go home.”

♠

You bump into Ana on your way up the stairs. 

“Hey!” she lights up when she first sees you, but then her face settles into a thoughtful frown. “You look worried.” She moves closer, all gentle concern, resting a hand on your shoulder. Behind her, Emilio is watching, probably picking up on more than he lets on. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you tell her, mustering up a half-hearted smile. “Everything is fine.”

She grimaces like she doesn’t quite believe you, but squeezes your arm and lets you go anyway. “Men are the worst. Come find me, Ears, if you need to talk.” 

You nod, biting your lip. “Thanks.”

♠

You’re just getting ready for bed when the front door creaks open, and Javi slips in. 

Something in your chest leaps to see him, but your grins fades as you glance up from your book. 

Javi looks terrible. His shoulders are slumped, motions jerky and exhausted as he drops wallet, keys, gun, cigarettes, pager, one by one, onto your kitchen counter. 

“Hey,” you say softly, setting the book aside and rising to your feet.

“Hey,” he breathes, more of a huff than a word. He shrugs out of his jacket, skirting around the coffee table to settle heavily on the sofa. He leans forward on his elbows, head bowed, staring absently at the worn carpet.

Jesus. 

Carefully, as if approaching a wild animal, you move in beside him, not quite close enough to brush his shoulder. You take a moment to reign in your palpable relief at seeing him here, alive and unharmed. How you feel is not important right now.

What’s important is Javi, who’s slumped with his hands clasped over his knees. Dejection leaks from him in tangible waves, and you can’t help but move closer, resting your hand on his shoulder in silent comfort. He trembles subtly at your touch, but doesn’t flinch away. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” you ask after a long moment. It’s the only thing you know to offer.

He inhales sharply at your voice, as if he’d forgotten you were there, then heaves another massive sigh, pressing his palms into his eyes and digging his fingers through his hair. 

“There’s a fucking leak in the Medellín force,” he bites out tersely. 

You stiffen as if he’d poured ice water down your back. “Oh god.” All that intel, all those men, delivered directly to Verdugo, to Escobar…

“Yeah,” he growls, muscles of his back tensing. “We walked right into a trap.”

“Fuck,” you breathe, the implications hitting you one by one. You’re struck with the sudden urge to wrap your arms around him and cling for dear life, emotions tangling and snarling in your chest - gratitude, overwhelming relief, concern, curiosity. You manage to hold still, settling for slowly rubbing his shoulder, your fingers carding back and forth against the thin material of his shirt. 

It’s overwhelming and frustrating, your powerlessness in this situation. He’s come straight to you, again, but you aren’t sure what to say, or how you can help. 

“I’m here,” you whisper after a long moment, because it’s true. You are.

He takes a deep breath, then another. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t move, but some of the tension seems to drain from him.

“Somebody had prepared them for our arrival,” he says at last. His voice is stretched thin, eyes glazed as he stares into space, reliving the day. “Once we reached the house, we were surrounded. Had to shoot our way out.”

Oh, Christ. 

“I lost four men.” He drops his head again, covering his face. 

The thought of Javier Peña being ashamed, feeling like he has to hide from you, is so ridiculously unfathomable that you just can’t allow it. You reach for his hand, twining your fingers through his so quickly that you aren’t even aware you’ve made the decision to do so. He glances down at your clasped hands, startled and a little awestruck, and then raises his eyes to meet yours. They’re dark and wet, wide with wonder and a question. 

You squeeze his hand once, tightly. 

He inhales sharply, tipping his head over and back to rest against your chest. The movement surprises you, but it’s not unwelcome, and you shift to accommodate him, arching against the arm of the sofa, wriggling you leg out from beneath you and encircling his shoulder with your free arm.

You sit there in the dark like that for a long moment, just breathing, existing. 

“And that’s not all,” he confesses after a long silence.

Wait, really? You’re not sure if you even answer aloud, you’re so caught up in what he’s saying.

“Afterward, they implied there was a problem with our warrants, that we shouldn’t have had access to that neighborhood to begin with.” Javi huffs. “Trying to get our visas pulled.”

Horror floods you. “But-”

He tilts back to make upside down eye contact with you. Any other time, you’d think he was being cute, but now, it’s nothing but exhausted desperation. “It’s okay,” he reassures you. “It didn’t go through - our paperwork was solid.” He chuckles mirthlessly, shaking his head at the stupidity of the situation. “Good news is, though, we know who the rat is. He won’t be a problem anymore.”

You try not to think too hard about the implications of that.  

“But still,” his expression hardens. “It’s a headache.” 

Understatement. “Yeah,” you agree wholeheartedly. You imagine Javi having to deal with bureaucracy bullshit right after fighting for his life in a shootout. Anger flares in your chest. “I’m sorry.” The words burst out of you, impassioned and thoroughly useless. “They target you in the only way they know how, Peña. It’s because you’re a threat. You’re getting close, or they wouldn’t bother.”

He scoffs. “Yeah, tell that to the Lopez family. His wife is weeks away from delivering their first baby.” He raises the pitch of his voice, expression of mock sympathy twisting his face. “I’m so sorry, señora, but on the bright side, we are getting really close to catching Pablo Escobar.”

His words cut you like broken glass, rending you raw. You’re horrified to feel tears gathering in your eyes. 

You can’t even be angry, though, because he’s right. 

You inhale shakily, and he flops over, burying his face in your clavicle. You don’t even hesitate, just gather him closer, carding your free fingers over his neck and shoulders in earnest now. This is deep shit, goddammit, well beyond your realm of experience. You don’t know how to comfort him, you just know that he needs something, and you’re willing to offer whatever you have to give.

 “I’m sorry,” you repeat, squeezing your still-clasped hands to remind him that you’re here. He squeezes back, exhaling another deep, shuddering breath, and relaxes so far into your touch that his lips are resting in the hollow of your throat. 

It occurs to you, suddenly, that you might be taking advantage of him. He’s here seeking your comfort, and as justified as that is, you’re not sure if it’s entirely fair to him, given how you feel. Not that you’re getting any sort of sexual or emotional gratification from this moment - not by a long shot. Still, though, it reeks of deception somehow. 

Javi cracks an eye open, tilting his face up to question your sudden stillness. 

“Is this okay?” you whisper, meeting his gaze. You’re not sure exactly what you’re asking. You’re feeling vulnerable, all flayed open and too-exposed, like you’re crossing a boundary of some sort. 'Can I touch you like this?' you wonder. 'Is it too intimate? Am I allowed to comfort you, just for comfort’s sake?'

‘Am I breaking the rules?’

He blinks up at you, and despite your best effort at remaining expressionless, those dark eyes pin you with an intensity that makes you swear he’s pulling the thoughts straight from your brain. 

You stifle a gasp, barely managing to hold his gaze without blinking or squirming.

“Yeah,” Javi whispers after a long moment. He allows his eyes to flutter closed, and you breathe a long, slow sigh of relief. “It’s good.”

♠

You blink yourself awake early the next morning, squinting at the pale sunlight that filters through your smudged window.  

You didn’t have the heart to leave Javi last night, and eventually, you’d both fallen into an exhausted sleep, an awkward tangle of limbs on your tiny sofa. He’s sprawled out with his head cocked back, right arm crushing a throw pillow beneath his jaw, one leg extended, the other foot draped over the coffee table. Sometime in the night, you’d nestled into the crook of his neck, unconsciously straddling his thigh, and he’d hooked his free arm around you, snaking a hand beneath your shirt to splay his fingers across the bare skin of your stomach.

You glance up, heart rate speeding double-time as awareness of your situation seeps in. 

It’s not the first time you’ve woken up to Javier Peña. But never like this. Never on the sofa. Never pressed into him, all wrapped up and tangled in one another, warm and soft and sleepy. Never fully clothed, and definitely never after the vulnerability he’d allowed you to glimpse last night.

 A rush of affection and deep, aching need floods your core. Your muscles tense unconsciously as your hips tilt into his leg, desperately seeking friction. 

You stifle a gasp, sucking down the overwhelming urge to kiss him awake, to throw a leg over him properly and grind deliciously against his hips…

You stop, breathing raggedly.

You’ve always had a thing for morning sex. There’s something deliciously intimate about it, all hushed whispers and slow rocking beneath blankets, still clinging to the heat of sleep. It’s gentle and private, a secret without guile, and these new, intense feelings that you’re harboring for Javi have you absolutely leaking and trembling at the mere suggestion of it.

You have to get out of here.

Carefully, moving as slowly as your shaking muscles allow, you duck beneath his arm. He shifts, humming, and you catch your breath, watching carefully as he curls into himself with a soft sigh. 

Goddamn. 

You stand there for a long moment, heart hammering in your chest, confirming that he’s still out. You can’t help but trace his face with your eyes, noting the uneven patches of stubble that have grown in during the past three days, the curl of his dark lashes, the stripe of soft belly that his shirt leaves exposed, his hot, heavy breaths, slow and deep with sleep. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You run the shower hot, not even pretending to stifle your arousal. The thrum of the water is a welcome weight on your shoulders, tickling sensitive skin as it soaks your hair and sluices down your body. You follow its trail with your fingers, slipping them over pebbled nipples, teasing briefly, then dragging down your belly. The sound of the spray grounds you, drowning your moans. You recall the image that you awoke to, the pressure of Javi’s arm curled around you, your hips angled just perfectly over his thigh, the heat and slow, steady throb of life that pulsed from the crook of his neck. 

You tilt your head just slightly, arching into him, peppering his jaw with gentle kisses. His eyes flutter open, and he shifts, opening himself to grant you access. You straddle him properly, sliding up his chest to curl into him, and he smiles lazily. 

“Good morning,” you whisper, capturing him in a slow kiss, sucking gently at his lower lip. 

“Mmm,” he moans incoherently into your mouth, still pliant with sleep. His erection digs into you, and you grind over it, one long, slow roll of your hips. 

He bucks, hitching a sharp breath into your mouth.

“Javi,” You pull hard at your sex, mimicking the pressure of rocking against him, groaning and bucking into your hand. The water continues to beat steadily on your back and shoulders, and you slide to the floor, thumb teasing at your clit, fingers arching to find that perfect spot deep inside you.

You bring your opposite hand up to graze against your face, fingers spayed across your cheek, thumb dragging down your neck.

“Come here,” Javi grins lazily up at you. He cups your jaw in his hand, pulling you so close that your foreheads press together. You rub your cheek against his stubble, nipping gently at his pulse point as you line yourself up. You don’t need any foreplay - you’re already dripping for him. His eyes drift shut and his breath hitches as you slide down onto his cock as slowly as you can manage. You rock back and forth, finding an easy rhythm as you adjust to the pressure of his length inside you, and he bucks to meet you halfway, thrusting faster as you sink deeper. 

“Is this okay?” he whispers up to you with doe eyes. He’s more awake now, but still soft, still gentle. 

“Perfect,” you promise, adjusting your the angle as you bend down to kiss him again. 

With no warning, he swipes his tongue greedily behind your teeth, sucking steadily as he circles your back to dig hard at your ass with those gigantic hands, arching deep into you at the same time. 

You gasp. “Javi!”

The bathroom door slams open with a bang, and you’re jerked back to reality. Javi, real, live, awake Javi, is staring at you in wide-eyed shock. 

You don’t even have time to be embarrassed. 

His face hardens in an instant as he takes you in, eyes narrowing, lips curling into an expression that’s damn near feral. “What the fuck are you doing?” he hisses, spitting the ‘f’ hard. 

“What’s it look like?” you answer breathlessly. You know you look ridiculous, panting on shower floor, knees hiked up with your feet pressed to the glass, fingers still nestled inside you. You are thoroughly exposed to him, and yeah, in the back of your mind, you know that there’s part of you that should be ashamed at being found in this position, but right now, there’s no room in you for any emotion except for anger. 

It burns in you suddenly, white hot indignation. “Goddammit, Javi, what do you want??”

His face is disbelief and thunder, frozen in a snarl that is terrifying in its intensity. His fingers are curled at his sides, muscles braced for a fight. Your heart hammers in your chest. He is every inch the man who guns down killers for a living. “You called my name."

Ah, and there’s the shame. It floods you like water, cool and cloying, and suddenly, you’re desperate for the ground to open up and swallow you whole, shower and all.

“Oh,” you think you might say, or something similarly useless. 

He growls, stalking forward as if he’s about to yank the shower door open, then stops as if jerked. You can only watch, transfixed, as his expression shifts from livid, to devastated, to carefully blank. It’s over in the blink of an eye, so quickly that you question the validity of your own observation, and then, before you can even think, Javi is whirling on his heel, slamming the door behind him with a ferocity that makes the glass walls shudder.

You lie there on the wet tiles, fingers still resting on your sex, reliving the scene over and over until the water runs cold. 

You’d called his name. 

Shouted it, or moaned it, or screamed it, who even knows. The point is, he’d heard you. 

Wincing, you replay your fantasy, or what you can remember of it. 

Well, shit. 

The anger comes roiling back, poisoned with brittle resentment. You stand, shuddering as you slam the tap off. 

That motherfucker. 

He had no right. He’d slept in your house, eaten your food, barged into your bathroom, intruded on your private shower. 

As if he belonged here.

‘But…’ shame whispers hoarsely in your ear, reminding you that you’d wanted him here. You’d welcomed him into your home, given him your goddamned spare key, rubbed his neck, tucked him in.

Fuck, you’d called his name.

With the second recollection comes vague fascination, and maybe curiosity. Javi was so angry. Furious, damned near trembling with it. That aborted little move toward you, as if he’d like to either strangle you or shove his tongue down your throat, you’re not sure which. The careful restraint, the hasty retreat. 

What did it mean?

Arousal flares, but distant, dimmed. You’ll get off on this fantasy one day, you’re absolutely certain, but it will be a long time before the sting of the memory fades. 

Slowly, shakily, you exit the shower, shivering as you reach for your towel. One thing is absolutely certain.

You really don’t want to go to work today.

♠

He doesn’t look at you. 

You don’t look at him. 

Well, then. 

You’re tempted to make a snide crack about fragile masculinity’s fear of female sexuality, but then you remember how fucking observant he is, how attentive, cataloguing your every expression, noting what you liked and what you didn’t, how he’d make a point to watch you as you’d come, like he was savoring the experience every time.

Something shockingly akin to grief swells in your chest. Automatically, you shift to watch him from the corner of your eye. He’s hunched over his typewriter, shoulders slumped and head bowed, long fingers peck-pecking away, brow furrowed in concentration. 

It’s the same little furrow that you recognize from when he’d first studied the card game you’d left on your coffee table. You recognize the shoulder-slump, too, and the stiffness he’s carrying in his body, as if stress is locking all of his muscles painfully in place. He’d been that way last night, too, when he’d first come home.

You inhale sharply. You can’t fucking do this anymore.

You rise suddenly, nearly knocking your chair over with the force of the motion.  You gather your notebook and pens, nodding to Jacoby as you exit the room. 

“I’d like to request a transfer,” you announce as soon as Strechner lets you into his office. 

It’s bold of you. Bill Stechner, CIA station chief in Colombia, is your boss’ boss’ boss. He is undeniably a big fish, important enough that he is rarely available even by appointment, aloof and irreverent and informal by all accounts. You’ve spoken to him only once, for all of thirty seconds. 

“Oh really?” Stechner hardly glances up from the magazine he’s reading. “And why’s that?”

“I’d like to take a more active role in Centra Spike,” you barrel on. “You’ve seen my credentials, sir - fifty-four recon fly-overs in Kuwait, along with advanced training in data analytics and RDF. The training required will be minimal, I’ve proven myself capable here.”

Stechner clicks his tongue, setting the magazine aside. “Have you?” he wonders. “Because I was lead to believe that the Medellín sting that was initiated on your intel was an unprecedented failure.” 

Well goddamn, this was a mistake. Anger and shame flood you, and you can feel the blood draining from your face. Stechner’s thoroughly blasé tone isn’t helping staunch your reaction at all. You draw a deep breath, biting the inside of your cheek hard enough to draw blood.

“I refuse to take responsibility for that, sir -”

He scoffs, waving you off with a lazy hand. “Bill, please. Or Stechner, if you must. We don’t do formalities here.” He tugs at his canvas jacket and lifts a brow in your direction. “You were saying?”

“I was saying, Mister Stechner,” you speak slowly and calmly, as if addressing a small child, “that I cannot take responsibility for the corruption of the Colombian National Police.” You take another deep breath and continue. “The intel that I vetted for Centra Spike was good. We both know it. Those deaths fall on Martinez and the men in Medellín. Not me.”

Stechner watches your for a long minute, head cocked in consideration. 

You force yourself to shut up. Your heart is beating so loud that you’re certain that he can hear it, and you want nothing more than to slam the door shut on your way out of his office and be through with this conversation. 

After an eternity, Stechner hums. His expression doesn’t change, but you get the feeling that you’ve passed some sort of test. 

You hold your breath, waiting. 

You need this.

“How’s your Spanish?” he asks after a long moment.

You don’t even hesitate. “Mejorando, señor.” It’s not quite a lie - you are getting better.

Stechner raises his eyebrows in challenge.

You meet his gaze, expressionless. 

Suddenly, Stechner grins. “I’ll consider it,” he says, rising to his feet.

You return the smile tightly, a wash of relief rushing over you. "Thank you, sir."

♠

Word travels fast at headquarters.

“Heard you applied for a transfer,” Murphy calls as you duck past his little corner of the hallway. “Ballsy of you, confronting Stechner like that.”   

“Applied,” you remind him firmly, doing your best not to react to the way Javi stiffens behind him. “We’ll see what happens.”

Murphy smirks. “Well, I heard you got it.” He clasps your shoulder. “Congrats, Ears. That’s great.”

“Thanks, Murph,” you smile wanly at him. 

Somehow, you don’t feel like celebrating.

♠

author’s notes/confessions:

inspired by a conversation with @tiffdawg​ - she gets all of the credit for this hot mess. Tiff, if you’re sick of tags, just let me know. :)

masturbation scenes are a nightmare of tenses. Again, I welcome comments and gentle criticisms. I am well out of my depth here.

part of the Better Love ‘verse. Check it out on AO3 {here}.

Merry Christmas to those of us who are celebrating today. Love you all! 

[pennyserenade]

tags: nameless female oc x javier peña, nameless female oc x javier pena. rating: e ( explicit ) warnings: smut, language, talks of violence, unprotected sex, heavy angst, mentions of death, guns, pregnancy.  word count: 3k+ summary: not everything can be spoken the way it can be felt.  notes: i somehow managed to do this despite feeling entirely unmotivated all day, so that’s nice. this takes place during episode 3, season 2, near the halfway mark.   original gif by: @javierian

una guerra sin piedad 

scene eight, scenes from a marriage

Javier is a good husband, or at least he tries to be. He doesn’t mean to do this--probably doesn’t even recognize that she knows he’s doing it. He is faced with so many objectives in a day's time, Javier doesn’t realize how easy it is to catch on to his lies. They are hardly coated, though, obvious to anyone who pays attention to him as much as she does, but that’s just it--he doesn’t pay attention at all.

He’s unaware that his fingers are shaking right now. It is a subtle act, a tremble hardly notable to the untrained eye, but these are the fingers that have been touching her for twelve years; she has seen them and felt them and come to know them better than her own. They have remained steady and nimble even after too many cups of coffee and one too many pieces of harrowing news, because they are trained to be fingers that don’t give way to anxiety. A stone body, a man meant to be unflinching in the face of the most awful of tragedies, but here with her, it allows his lies to leak out without his consent. It’s pleading, this body, asking for respite because he won’t go easier on it.

She holds his hands, keeping them steady before they can reach out and lay flat against her growing stomach. Javier looks at her and confusion sprinkles across features that are too pale to be normal, even to him. His eyes reveal an undeniable sadness, too, some sort of impact from war that he’s on the verge of losing simply because he refuses to ask for help. He is all alone in there.

“Me estás mintiendo, Javi,” she tells him, voice level and collected. “Te mientes a ti mismo también.”

He looks startled, and perhaps it is warranted. The glass case he enclosed himself in wasn’t so transparent or frail to him, after all. 

He takes his hands away slowly. 

“No,” he responds. “About what?”

“No sé. Not completely,” she shakes her head. “That’s why I said it.”

“I’m not lying about anything.”

“Javi.”

“What?”

“The cigarettes.” 

She watches his face fall. 

“You smoke them when you think I’m asleep but I do your laundry, and I can smell them when you get back in bed,” she shrugs. “You don’t hang out the window far enough either, and you always get ashes on the ground.”

“I can’t quit,” he confesses. “Not now.”

“I never asked you to.”

“Yo sé, pero…” he begins, but falters. “I wanted to.”

“I would rather you smoke than you lie.”

“Okay, but that’s all,” he confirms. “Only the cigarettes.”

“Javi.”

“I’m telling the truth.”

“You of all people should know withholding information is just as incriminating,” she huffs, “I’m stronger than you ever give me credit for. You aren’t the only one who sees the blood in the streets, you know. I saw it too, still do, because we live here and that’s the reality and I’m sick of having to deny it.”

“Baby,” he groans. “Please. I don’t ever ask you to postpone these things, but I cannot do this tonight. I cannot.” 

“What happened tonight, Jav?”

He shakes his head. Lips straighten into a tight line and his Adam’s apple bops. 

“It was nothing.”

“Please,” she pleads, in the same vein as his own. “You don’t know how bad I need to know what is happening in your mind.”

“Nothing.”

His eyes start going blank again, despite the small smile he forces onto his lips. It has gone quicker than it had come. 

She frowns. 

He senses that his control over this situation is ebbing away. Lies, denial, the cruel act of simply not telling—it oozes out of him. 

Deception ages poorly, if this is anything to go by. It is grotesque what the truth can do to something beautifully fabricated as their marriage has been the past few months. Those tiny cuts that had existed before are now bloody wounds, infected with the spoils of their selfishness.

He cups her face in his hand; she lets him. He swipes the pad of his thumb over the warm skin, and looks into her eyes; she lets him. He leans forward to kiss her; she does not let him.

She’s never done that. It hollows him out, digging deeper in the already sensitive heart he’s carrying around.  

“Te amo mucho,” she begins, taking the hand that cradled her face in her own, “but you are hiding from me and it hurts to see.”

He face twitches, as if he’s going to say something, but he grows hesitant. He realizes what he might lose, realizes what’s at stake. 

It is not that she hasn’t seen the violence, or that he thinks her too weak to handle it. He knows what she can bear, knows that before he ever met her she was reporting on what he found. Anyone in Colombia, reporter or not, knows, because this is what happens. Violence. She can’t not know. 

What she can avoid knowing is his involvement in it. Withholding the truth is just as incriminating, she is right, but she’s been here long enough to know that crime runs rampant. It infects the entire country with its allure—that promise of getting to better places faster—and he is someone who has been swept dangerously up in its tide. 

She does not need to know. Some things shouldn’t be told, just as those things shouldn’t have been done. 

Doesn’t need to know it had been a boy. Just a fucking mouthy kid who had been washed into a war he didn’t deserve to comprehend let alone contribute to. 

The gun was held by someone who should’ve protected him, too. Noble American hero he was, Javi stood by and watched. He hadn’t even wanted to tell Steve—was coerced out the way he refused to be with her. 

He swallows harshly and thinks once more about the line of English he muttered before it had happened. It was a plea the boy wouldn’t have understood or grasped, said because deep down Javier knew what was about to happen. He didn’t say it in Spanish, though. He has to reconcile with the fact that the plea was more for himself than it was the boy with the gun in his face. Has to reconcile with the fact that he won’t speak about it again, too, even though he knows it’s wrong. She doesn’t need to know that, does she?

“I’m not going to tell you,” he speaks with a harsh finality. Maybe it’s not so harsh; maybe it’s just the fact that it’s so final that really hurts.

She holds her breath, the pain of his answer sharp and sudden and irrevocably real regardless. 

“I can’t,” he repeats. 

There’s no way he doesn’t know he’s hurting her now, and she supposes he’s doing this for a good reason, but the ache of it still burns just as bad. 

“I know,” she says. Then, a sacrifice, “S’okay.”

Javier’s eyes shift down to her stomach. He has found an increasing need to keep his hands and arms wrapped around her nearly all of the time lately. Given, he has always loved the way she melts into his body when he wraps himself around her, but this is different; it is a sort of comfort that stems beyond liking the warmth of her. This is a need to protect. 

His feelings about the child still lean more towards confusion than they do anything else, but he’s begun to accept the fact that it is real. It’s hard to deny such a thing as her stomach begins to grow, but a part of him sort of likes knowing that it’s there now. He has given her something that isn’t pain, something that will be beautiful and innocent. He watches her, too, sees the way she holds her stomach and hears the way she speaks to it when she thinks he’s in a different room.

He remembers when she had told him that she was meant to be so much more than just someone’s mother or just someone’s wife. That felt like a century ago, those two people entirely different than the ones that lay here now and talk with each other. He doesn’t mourn for it, that time and those people, but he does think about them. 

She is still so much more than a wife and a mother, to be fair. Maybe she never accomplished everything she had envisioned when she had told him that, but there’s something so fiercely independent about her still, something entirely separate from anyone, even the one who grows inside her. 

She kept her last name. She reads all the time and piles books all over the house, adding personality in a way he never favored beyond his own shit until she came. She still writes. She’s compiled an entire record collection, full of artists and bands he’s never heard, and sometimes ones he has, the special sort that remind him of being a kid. She can sew. She is good at puzzles. She always burns her own toast but never his. She is good at oral because in the same way she had dedicated herself to a lot of things in life, she had also dedicated herself to learning how to suck a cock (her words, not his). She is filthy in a way that makes him ache sometimes, it’s so goddamn hot. She is kind. She is his everything. 

He isn’t happy or proud of the fact that he cannot find it in himself to admit what he has done. He knows she doesn’t deserve to be in a relationship filled with lies, ones so concealed she can’t even begin to find out what they are. Cigarettes are nothing in comparison to the things he witnessed tonight, and even those break her heart. 

His love for her is selfish, but it is still the very best part of him. 

“Let me touch you,” he whispers, hands ghosting lightly over her bare arms. “I just wanna make you feel good right now. Will you let me do that?”

She nods, and then, without him asking, she raises the slip she wears over her head, leaving her perfectly naked on top of him. He leans forward soon after and takes a nipple in his mouth. Her fingers rake through his hair as he runs his tongue against the sensitive flesh, but this time they do not tug. There is no rush or hunger in the way they are choosing to be with one other right now. Their bodies are too weak from emotional ware and tear, and their minds too numb from resisting the confrontation of the heaviness tonight has brought upon them. 

His fingers travel down to her core and when they find her clit, she pulls her back from her chest and kisses him, stealing a moan from his mouth. She breathes into him. After she pulls back, she rests her forehead against his own. Javi focuses more intently on her pleasure, measuring his success from the way her breath begins to quicken and the way her hips begin to rock up into his hand, desperate for more. He buries his face in the crook of her neck and she bites down gently at the skin of his shoulder, muffling herself as his fingers quicken the pace. She’s getting close, he knows. 

“That’s it, mi amor,” he tells her as she works herself on his fingers. “Use me, baby.”

It doesn’t take long until her lips part from his skin and find themselves letting out sharp moans, hips coming to a slow halt as she finishes working herself through the wave of her orgasm on his fingers. 

She presses her lips onto his, panting gently as she does so. When she allows herself to rest against him, he can feel how wet she is through the fabric of his boxers. 

He grabs onto the back of her neck and deepens the kiss. She wraps her arms around his neck and begins to rub herself against him, and he lets her for a few moments, enjoying what he can of her like this, before he rests a hand on her hip to stop it. 

“I want to taste you,” he tells her. She just looks at him. “Por favor.”

She nods, beginning to get off of him, but he grabs at her again, stilling her. Her eyebrows raise in confusion. 

“Sit on my face.”

“Javi, I’m too—“

“No you’re not,” he assures. He begins to lay down, pushing a pillow beneath his head. “C’mon, you like it.”

“Baby,” she hesitates. 

Javi tugs gently on her hand, urging her forward. She sighs, but caves in. 

He helps her, guiding her forward on his chest and she goes, but he can feel how nervous she is still.

He nips at her thighs before he adjusts herself over him. “I like doing this,” he tells her before he guides her forward the last few inches, and immediately he can feel all the tension ease from her as his tongue dips into her. 

She grabs a handful of his hair and licks between her folds, lapping up the last bit of her previous arousal. His nose grazes gently over her clit every so often and she cannot help the moan that escapes from her when it does. He is losing himself in her, transforming all the lies into nothing even for the briefest moments. 

He may not be the best husband, but he can make her feel good. He likes it too, genuinely enjoys the taste of her on his tongue and the accomplished, satisfying feeling of knowing he makes her legs weak and is the cause of the moans that part from her when she truly gets lost in this. And God, how they fall now as he sucks her clit. She unintentionally moves her hips forward. 

“Sorry,” she says, but Javi is quick to gently shake his head, not wanting to lose her. His hands wrap around her ass and he encourages it, going as far as moaning into her when she begins to develop a good pace. He gropes at her ass and she cums again, twitching gently this time. Javi cannot help the grin that forms on his lips as she does this. 

She guides herself off of him, collapsing next to him in the bed. Before he has the chance to wipe her arousal off his lips, she’s pulling him into a kiss. 

She loves this man. He may hurt her and hide from her, but she never feels unloved in his presence. Maybe that is enough. Maybe asking for any more than that is wrong. He is a good man. 

She kisses a trail down his chest, moving back in between his legs before she reaches the halfway point. 

“No,” he says, holding out his hand. 

“Why?” she questions.

“You don’t need to just because I did,” he says. “You don’t have to touch me at all.”

“I want to, Javi,” she tells him, hands shimming down his underwear. 

She kisses down his happy trail, then peppers light kisses around the base of his cock. His breath hitches, anticipating her next move, and he is delighted to find it is her tongue licking the underside of his sensitive member. He nearly jolts out of her hand, the sensation of her feels so good. 

He cannot help but tell her, saying, “Fuck, you do it just right.”

Despite all the ache still present in her, she manages a soft, unaffected laugh. He notes that, feels just as moved by that as he does the way her mouth wraps around his member and begins to be worked. 

She twirls her tongue around the top each time she comes back up, and she moves back down slowly, drawing multiple moans and “fucks” from his lips. He cannot look at her while she does it, unable to refrain from coming in her mouth if he does. He’s already dangerously on the edge as she includes her tongue when she’s going back down on his choke, running across each vein and causing his hips to twitch just as hers did. 

“I’m gonna—“ he pauses, fighting the urge to release with all he has in him. “I’m going to cum soon and I want it to be in you. You—“ he pauses again, breath leveling, “—you gotta stop or I won’t make it.”

“I don’t want you to,” she manages, before returning to his cock, going up and down at an increased rate. His fingers clench the sheets beneath him as she does this, losing it when she moans against him. He can’t stop it, can’t resist the urge any longer and doesn’t truly want to, knowing she’s not going to let him. 

He opens his eyes and watches her wipe a line of his arousal from her chin before she swallows down the rest of it. Tired and spent as he is, he still manages to rise from his back quickly to kiss her. He can taste himself on her lips, but he does not mind it. The kisses are not as lust filled, more tender and caring, and he is all the more pleased when she guides him backwards again, before settling next to him and wrapping one of her legs around his. His heart beats rapidly and his mind is not yet void of thought (he isn’t sure if it will ever be), but the tension between them has dissipated. Even if it is temporary, and even if it is something that is going to come back ten times worse, Javi values this for what is now and appreciates her submission once more into this fantasy land with him. 

She herself wonders, despite all the unspoken heartbreak, and despite all the unknown truths, what their baby might look like and what qualities it might possess from him as she lies silently next to him. Wonders because what she has learned is that the future is her friend and that imagining it does no harm.

It is a place where nothing is broken or harmed, the future. A place where she can cling to the vestiges of hope she’s granted even when he holds her and doesn’t tell her what he’s done or seen. It’s a place beautifully untouched by the unfair quality of truth and pain; a place where he stands in the doorframe of their bedroom with a small, newly born child and looks happy in a way she hasn’t seen in so long; a place where she will never have to fret about whether she will ever get that from him or not, because it is hers and she does. 

The future has always been kind to her, kind in the way the present never, ever seems to be. She clings onto Javi and even manages a sad sort of grin at the thought of a child who’s hair curls the same way his does when it gets too long. 

She doesn’t share these thoughts with him, though—hardly ever does—because she needs things for herself. Admitting these notions into the world is to corrupt them, or to corrode the meaning they have to her now. She loves him, but these are her thoughts the way whatever he battles are his. 

This is a scene of a war without mercy; this is scene eight from a marriage. 

javi tag list : @wyn-dixie , @rosiefridayrogersunday , @disgruntledspacedad , @melaniermblt , @walt-breslin , @theorganasolo , @amneris21 , @over300books

forever/everything tag list : @astroboots , @frannyzooey , @wyn-dixie , @rosiefridayrogersunday , @melaniermblt , @theorganasolo​ , @amneris21​

scenes tags: @gravegoth​ , @sarahjkl82-blog​ , @cmonkeepmoving​

[mudhornchronicles]

strategies | javier pena

pairing: javier peña x reader

warnings: mentions of sex, cursing, guns, violence… narcos.

request by: @danniburgh

masterlist

You sit in the backseat, adjusting your tactical vest, as Steve and Javier sit in the front seat. You are currently on your way to a 1am stakeout about 45 minutes out of the main streets of Medellín, trying to collect intel on an halcón, a falcon, for Escobar. You had freshly brewed coffee in hand from that twenty-four-hour bakery you and Javier went to every time you had to stay in the office late and a basic maple donut in the other. You liked adding hazelnut flavored creamer and so did Steve, but Javier liked his coffee black and boring. No matter where he was and what he was doing, he was happy with a sugar donut, his dark roast and you by his side.

“So, here’s the plan,” Steve begins. He adjusts the rear-view mirror to get a good look at you. “Martín is known to be at this club every Friday night. We are going to sit here and wait for him to leave. We’ll follow the car, and we’ll call in for backup.” Steve glances at Javier and furrows his eyebrow. He points at Javier and says, “I mean it, Peña. We quietly stay in this car and just follow. I don’t need a shootout… again.” He looks at you from the mirror and smiles. “And thank you for the coffee.”

Javier rolls his eyes at Steve and turns to look at you. “Amor, tell Murphy that I am perfectly capable of staying in this car.” You lean forward and plant a kiss on your boyfriend’s lips, his mustache tickling your upper lip as always.

“Stephen, my boyfriend Javier is not capable of staying in this car and we should tie him to his seat before he lay his eyes on this guy.” You laugh and Steve laugh as Javier frowns and starts poking your side. “I’m kidding, Javi. You know I trust you with my life, my vida. Except with criminals who will be walking right in front of you.” Javier playfully rolls his eyes at you and mutters a “pinche mentirosa.”

fucking liar.

You drive another 10 minutes and park on the east side of the building, spotting Martín’s car. Steve secretly looks at you through the mirror and gives you a quick wink, you giving a nod in return. You all wait for what feels like an eternity. Javier’s jaw tightens a bit more as time goes on while Steve begins to get anxious. Steve knows this is a terrible idea and he knows just how much Javier is going to hate him and might even kill him. He lets out a breath and Javier snaps his head back at his partner.

“Alright Steve spill it. What the fuck is going on with you? You’re sweating and you’re breathing hard and it’s making me uncomfortable. The only time I get like that is when I’m fucking my girl, so… what the fuck.”

You immediately step in to defend your friend. “Javier! Steve is just nervous leave him alone.” As Javier tries to argue Steve spots your guy walking out of the club and over to his car. Before Javier can let out a yell, Steve handcuffs on Javier’s wrist to steering wheel and says, “Go ‘head smoke show. Bring his ass in.” You lean forward and give Javier a kiss on the cheek, pulling off our jacket revealing your provocative outfit underneath. You slip on your heels as Javier slaps Steve to uncuff him.

You get out of the car and it was at that moment that Javi felt his pants tighten and wished Steve want in the car. There you were wearing a skirt that came up just at the swell of your ass and a tank top that only accentuated your breasts. Javi should have known something was going to happen when you put on a wig, a completely different color than your hair, for fun. There have been countless times where the DEA had asked you to do undercover stuff and you always declined because you have seen these missions go terribly wrong. Javier never saw it coming.

He saw you walk towards the entrance and as you walked past your guy, he whistled you back towards him. He ushered his bodyguard away as he pressed you up against his car. Javier almost punched Steve when he saw you wiggle you ass into Martín’s clearly hard cock. You abruptly turned around and put your arms around Martín’s shoulders with the smile you give Javier after being fucked for 4 hours straight. You lean in and whisper something to Martín. It was probably a promise of sex with the idiot smile he had on his dumb ugly face, Javier thought. Javier kept adjusting himself as Steve laughed and placed an earphone into Javier’s ear, listening to you speak.

“Sabia que estabas aqui… Rocio me dijo que eras su mejor cliente.”

I knew you’d be here… Rocio told you that you’re her best client.”

“Si? Y que mas te dijo, hermosura?”

Yeah? And what else she tell you, beautiful?

“Tambien me dijo que te gustan tener dos mujeres la misma vez.”

She also told me that you like to have two girls at the same time.

Javier couldn’t help but think back to conversations the two of you had about have a threesome with another girl. You brought up having a second man and having Javi and him fill you up, and to your surprise, Javi agreed but he wants to test out a girl first. Your relationship with Javier wasn’t always about sex, he was quite the romantic. From fancy dinners on rooftops to street tacos on the couch, Javier always made you feel loved… but the sex was always great. And with great sex comes constant thoughts about having each other everywhere and anywhere – Javi’s current issue.

“Que, mi reina. Quieres que te haga sentir rico? Tienes una amiguita que se te antoja?”

What, my queen. You want me to make you feel good? You got a little friend you’re craving?

You give him a nod and think back to Javier… what a shock that’d be.

“Si… tengo a alguien en el carro que te quiere conocer. Te va a sorprender.”

Yeah… I have someone in the car who wants to meet you. They’ll surprise you.

Upon hearing the code, Javier and Steve smirk. “They’ll surprise you” has always been the call for backup.  Steve immediately let Javier go and both go out of the car. Steve hops in the back and sits with the back of his head facing the window. Javier hides behind the car and blends into the shadows. As you walk up with Martín’s arm around your shoulders, you smile to yourself seeing them in position.

“Te presento,” you say as you open the backseat, “a Estephania.”

I present you to Stephanie.

Steve turns and smiles at Martín. Steve offers him a wave and Martín lets out a laugh. He puts his hands up in surrender and turns. Before Javi can even spring into action, you land a quick right hand on Martín’s jaw. Martín holds his jaw and lunge forward but isn’t quick enough. You immediately wrap his arm in yours, maneuver it behind him and push it upwards to dislocate his shoulder. You had to give it to him, Martín wasn’t a quitter. With a dislocated shoulder and all, he remained up on his feet an that didn’t sit right with you. You use his weight against him as you jump and straddle yourself on his shoulders.

Javi can’t seem to stop staring at the way your dress hitches higher and higher until it reaches your hips. You were thankful you were wearing cheeky underwear of your hoohah would’ve been out by now. The more you struggle with Martín trying to shake you off, the more Javi felt the absolute need to just rip those panties off you and take you on the hood of Steve’s car. He seems to be caught in a trance because she realizes just how much danger you’re in when Steve slaps the back of his head.

“Javi! What the hell is wrong with you! Stop thinking about fucking her for once and focus!”

Javi runs to Martín and tries to pry you off but you aren’t letting go as you continuously kick Martín in the sternum. Javi has enough and kicks Martín in the balls, dropping him to the floor and in turn, letting you off.

He tries to take deep breaths and looks up trying to look at you, but he’s met with a smiling Javier holding up his badge and holding him at gunpoint.

“Martín! Que raro que nos encontramos aqui, no? Ya te crees toro?”

Martin! How weird that we ran into each other here, no? You think you’re a bull now?

Martín mutter a curse and lets his head fall. Javi almost runs to smooth your dress down and pulls it the lowest it could possibly go before it sprang right back up. Martín allows himself to be put in the back with Steve and repeatedly states in a shaky voice that he isn’t talking to the cops. You tell him to keep thinking that and go to walk into the passenger seat as Javier stops you by the arm. You look at him shocked and smirk at the sight of his pained face.

“You see this?” he points to his hard cock and you smirk up him as you nod. “Once we drop his ass off, you’re putting that pretty little mouth to work. That may have been badass, but you talk a big game. Can you back it up?”

You give him a playful shove. You begin to walk away and right before you get in the car, you turn back and say, “Tread lightly, Javi, or you won’t be seeing this outfit anymore.” You wait to open the door until Javier is at the driver’s door. “Oh and Javi?”

Javier looks at you and gives you a stern look. “What?”

“I didn’t know your face got so red at seeing me on top another man. I can’t wait to see your face when another man is fuc- ”

“Get your ass in the car.”

[mcwritingblog]

Immortal: Chapter 1

A Girl and Her Cat

Pairing: Javier Pena x reader

Summary: A small town barista meets a handsome Javi.

Rating: G

Author’s note: Hey guys I'm sorry this doesn't have a lot of Javier in it, its really a big set up chapter for the story.

Word count: 2k

1975, a random fall Tuesday 

I don't know how it even happened, or how I met him. At the time I was living in a small town in Columbia run by Americans, keeping to myself, not drawing any attention to myself. He walked into my cafe and got a small black coffee. He stayed a while, reading his small novel.  

“Hi there, stranger, I got your coffee”, you said as you set down his drink. “Anything else?”

“No ma’am. Thank you”

“No problem”, you went to turn away but you had to know, “Um, hey?”

“Yes?”

“You've come in before.  What's your name?”

“Javier”

“Javier. I'm y/n. Let me know if you need anything. Maybe next time you could try a latte”, he lets out a snort. You go back to cleaning. It was extremely slow today so you got the go-ahead from your boss to close up early. 

“Miss?”

You turned around and saw Javier leaning up against his truck with a smile. 

You grasp your chest. “You scared me. I didn't notice you there.”

“Were you about to walk home?”

“Yes”

“Would you mind a ride?”

“My apartment isn't that far from here, but thank you I appreciate it.”

“Anytime.”

And like that, you were walking home, enjoying the weather. It was chilly and the leaves were falling beside you everywhere. You didn't mind the ten-minute walk to your apartment. You don't even get in the door before your cat starts meowing at you. 

“Avery, give me one moment. I'll feed you I promise.”. You love the hell out of the black cat but the girl is so needy.

You flick off your shoes by the front door, bending down to pet Avery. You walked past her to shake some food into her bowl. With how she rushes to it, you'd think she never got fed. Silly girl. You walk over to the couch and lay out, grabbing the blanket to get comfortable, a few moments pass and your cat hops up to snuggle up to you. You flip on your tv to find something to have in the background and settle on Hawaii Five O. There's something about cops that attracts you so much. You find yourself falling asleep, Avery radiating heat on your stomach. 

---

You were woken up the next morning by your alarm clock; another day, another dollar. You were on second shift today so you didn't have to be in until 11. You got up and made yourself toast and eggs, making sure fatso had her food too. 

“Pretty girl”, you say scratching her chin and heading towards the door, adding an “I’ll be back later. Byeee”

The walk to the shop today was extra nice. You can smell the aroma of a pumpkin pie as you pass the houses in your neighborhood and hear the sounds of children playing outside. The giggles brought life to the quiet afternoon. As you come closer to the city, the more you hear the sounds of cars passing and smells of bread being baked at the bakery down the street. The bakers wave at you as you pass the front window. You hold up two fingers, gesturing back. Two shops down is Mrs. Rivera trying to hang up plants, struggling to steady herself, AND the hanging ivy pot.

“Here let me help you.”, you say as you come behind her and catch the pot, succeeding in hanging it up on her awning.

“Thank you, sweetheart!”, she says as she wipes her hands on her apron.

“No problem. I have to get going but come by for a latte?”, you ask.

“Yeah. I’ll see you” 

And with that, you were back to it. Half a block down and you come to the shop's front door. It dings as you enter.

“You're late”, your boss, Maria, gets on to you.

“Mrs. Rivera needed help again.”

“Uh-huh. Get your butt back there”, she snorts. She's not mad. Thank god.

“Been busy today?”You ask about taking off your backpack and hanging it up. The shop was basically vacant. The only customer you could see was a college kid studying in the corner. You walk around to pick up mugs and empty plates from various tables.

“Not really. The usuals mostly… Oh! A guy was asking about you! He asked if I knew if you got home safe?”, she asked, confused.

“Ah yes, Javier. He offered to take me home last night.”, you say while walking the dirty dishes to the back.

“He’s cute. You should get in there, girl”, she yells to you. “In there?”, you come around the corner and scoff, “I'm not that interested in dating right now.”

“You should. You can't just spend all your free time with your cat and nonexistent characters in your books.”

“Can.” You point out “And will” 

“You're only 24, do you really wanna throw away that opportunity?”

You could only muster up an eye roll.

----

The rest of the shift went off without a problem. Maria went home shortly after her talk with you. The next few hours included a couple of customers but mostly some cleaning. Mrs. Rivera actually came to see you, even getting a hot chocolate for her grandson when she got her latte. You hold a conversation with her for a while, talking about her daughter’s new job at the school. Maria said something about that a couple of weeks ago. The rest of the regulars got their usual drinks, only sticking around long enough for their drinks. The clock soon hits 7 pm.

“Another tea?”, you ask the college student in the corner. He’s been here for your whole shift and has gotten two hot green teas with sugar.

“No ma’am. I'm about to leave but I appreciate it.”

‘Alright. Don't be a stranger”, you say, taking his cup and saucer to the back to clean it off. You place it in the strainer to left it air dry. As you are in the back, the customer packed up and left, leaving the shop empty.

You walk past every table, wiping it down and stacking chairs on top, then grabbing the broom. You quite enjoy the quiet chill night, humming a simple tune. The night offers an array of noises through the open door: Grasshoppers chirping and the soft whistle of the breeze. You finish sweeping and put up the broom. “The tips were pretty good today”, you think, pushing the money into your pocket, removing your apron, locking up, and heading home.

----

You had Thursday off and planned to spend it accordingly. You slept until you couldn't anymore, got up, and fed Avery, offering extra pets to the needy cat. She snuggles up to you on the couch, laying in the space in front of your stomach. Your newest interest? Murder mysteries. So you are relaxing on the couch reading Agatha Christie’s Death on the Nile. 

You get pretty far into the book before hearing a knock at your door. Weird. Then walk to unlatch the door, swinging it open.

“Uh... hello?”, you questioned the man in front of you. He’s standing there with his hand to the back of his neck, looking nervous

“Hi. Umm, I'm new to building. I live across the hall. I’m Anthony”, he reaches his hand out. You take his hand and shake it.

“Y/N”, you respond, smiling.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N”

“Would you like to come in for some coffee? I just put on a fresh pot”, you invite.

“Yeah, that sounds nice.”, his face sparks up in happiness. He takes your invitation and walks into your apartment, you close the door behind him.

‘Wow. Nice apartment. How long have you been living here?”

“Eh, a while”. Boy, you have NO idea.

He sits down at your dinner table and you bring over two coffee mugs.

“Cream? Sugar?”, you ask.

“Yes. Both please”, he responds and you hand him the containers of cream and sugar.

“Just moved here?”

“Yeah. From Arizona. The owner told me that you're one of the only Americans renting here. Thought I might come by and say hello.”

“Arizona, huh?”

“Yeah. I used to live in Georgia when I was a young girl but I’ve been around the world a lot. Been a while since I’ve been in the United States”, you drift off for a second but reel it in. “ Where in Arizona are you from?”

“Tucson. Wasn’t a bad place to live but I went to college for a major in the Spanish language. I wanted to visit places where I could hear the different dialects and see the different cultures. Thus, I am in Columbia.”

“Ah, you see I just wanted to see the world. I’ve been almost everywhere”

‘What was your favorite place to visit?”, he asks, fully focused on the conversation and not realizing Avery’s furry body rubbing against his shins. She meows. “Oh, well, hello there pretty girl. What’s your name?”. He reaches down to pet her back.

“That’s Avery. But back to your question, I was living in Greece for a while and I just adored the blue waters and sandy beaches.”

He takes a sip of his coffee and asks, “So what brought you here?”

“Need a change of scene. I had a friend who lived here but she passed away a couple of years ago”, you reply back nonchalantly, shrugging your shoulders.

“Oh, im so sorry to hear that. Not too pry but we’re you close?”

“Yeah, We knew each other for a while.”

“How’d she die?”, he asks further

“Old age”, you let slip.

“Old age? he responds surprised.

“Uh... yeah. A family friend.”, you try to make up a better story to keep suspicion off of you.

That conversation kind of ended before it started, instead opting for a conversation about Anthony’s studies in places like Cuba and Spain. The talk circled around to different places you’ve visited, Rome being a topic that seemed to trail on and on. The sun outside seems to start to set.

“I’ve got to get going but it was nice to meet you, Y’N”

“You too, Anthony. Let me know if you need a cup of sugar or anything”, you say following him towards your door. He steps through and across the hallway to his front door. When he shuts his door, you follow suit. You turn around and you can feel Avery’s judging eyes on you.

“I know, I almost blew my cover”, you tell your feline friend. She meows.

-----

You weren't wrong when you told Anthony you’ve been living in Columbia for a while. The problem is his definition and your definition of “a while” were completely different. The truth is you lived in Columbia for 40 years and in this town for about 20. You didn’t age. The only person who could possibly know is Mrs. Rivera but she is very good at minding her own business. You were one of the only ones who came to her husband’s funeral a year ago. You’re practically family. The town’s oldest residents have passed and the owners of the apartments change every couple of years. The rent is paid in cash and the tenets come and go. Every couple of decades you move to another small town in another country. 

You lived a normal life but you didn’t know your parents. You lived in the orphanage until you were 18. It was then you took up a job, reading in your spare time, and traveling when you could. You didn’t even realize your immortality until you were 40 looking 20. And then 50 looking 20. You did try to date but soon came to realize that you’d outlive them, leaving a trail of broken hearts. You were pretty sure you were incapable of love. 80 years old and not prepared for what happened next.

Javier Pena was about to change your life.

[xocalliexo]

Hiii! Could you do a friends/colleagues to lovers kind of thing with Mr. Peña? 😍😍😍

Like Javier finally revealing his feelings for you. I don't really care if it's smut or not, I'll leave it up to you :)

Thank youuu

Good god I am so sorry I'm late on this! I really hope you enjoy it. I didn't include smut, but I am kind of proud! Please let me know what you think!

Pairing: Javier x gn!Reader

Word Count: 981

Warnings: Mentions of death and gunshots. Takes place shortly after season 2 episode 4 "The Good, The Bad, and The Dead"

Taglist: @absurdthirst @remmysbounty @tweedlydumbtweedlydoo @maxlordsgf @tiffdawg @lyricalsficlibrary @miss-leto @pascalesque @sarahjkl82-blog (Let me know if you would like to be added or removed!)

You and Javier have worked in Colombia together for a long time now. Before Steve arrived, even. With that came a certain kind of… friendship with him. You two would go out to bars together, you’d help him pick a chick up, he’d help you pick someone up. And the cycle repeated.

As the years went on, you found yourself falling for the agent. The more he opened up to you, the more you felt yourself falling in love. Watching him sleep with informants and other women hurt, but you never said a word because you didn’t want to ruin what you had.

Sometimes you worried that you were too obvious, but maybe you weren’t. Or maybe Javier was oblivious. Steve realized your feelings for Javi about 3 months after he arrived in Colombia.

“What?” You flustered, scattering papers on the floor. “I do not have any kind of feelings for Javier. I have no idea what you’re even talking about.” You knew that you were flushed, and if anyone else looked at you they would’ve thought you’d seen a ghost.

Steve just chuckled and shook his head. “Whatever you say.”

It wasn’t until a few months later you admitted your feelings to Connie and Steve one night. You just couldn’t hold it in anymore, no one knew and if you didn’t tell someone you thought you might explode.

Once you told them (the two of them were very supportive), you felt a little better.

And life went on. Until it didn’t.

The first shift happened after Carrillo shot a kid. You were with him and Javi and you had a hard time believing what you had just seen. As soon as Carrillo had put the gun to the kid’s head, you grabbed Javier’s hand. You weren’t even thinking, but you needed something to ground you. He didn’t push you away, just held onto your hand like you were the only lifeboat in a tumultuous sea.

The final straw was the night Carrillo was murdered. Hearing Javier yelling over the radio, the panic in his voice so evident, very nearly broke you. You went home that night and just sat on your couch and stared at the wall. Finally, you decided to get up and check on Javi. You weren’t even sure if he was home, you figured he would go to one of the brothels and try to forget it all.

To your surprise you opened your apartment door and jumped when you saw Javier with his fist poised to knock.

“I was just coming to see if you were okay,” you said softly, letting him in.

Javier let out a heavy, tired sigh and dropped onto your couch. “I appreciate that,” he said. He wanted to light up a smoke, but he knew that you’d kill him if he did it in your apartment. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.” “I think I’m okay as I can be,” you said, sitting beside him. You took a risk and left no room between the two of you. Your thighs were pressed against each other and you wanted to melt into him.

He was quiet for a few minutes. It was a comfortable silence, like it always was with him. Being with Javier was second nature by this point.

Finally, he spoke. His voice sounding more real than it ever had. “Life really can end at any moment, can’t it?”

You smiled sadly and nodded. “Especially down here.”

Javier whispered your name and you turned to see him looking at you intently. “I need to be truthful with you. I’ve been holding this in for way too long, worried about the consequences. But after the last few weeks I don’t care anymore.”

You tried to say something, but he placed his hand on your knee and you knew to be quiet until he was finished.

“I’m in love with you. I have been for a long time, but it just took me forever to accept it. You know the things I’ve done, what I’ve been through. I’m not usually a man to settle down, but I want that with you and it scares the shit out of me. I haven’t even slept with someone else in six months because I can’t stop thinking about you. I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, and if you want I will be happy to leave and we can both act like I never told you any of this.” Javier didn’t want that, but he knew that he would do anything to keep you in his life, even if it meant pushing away his feelings.

You were stunned. You had no idea that he could feel the same way that you do. You thought that maybe you were dreaming and that you should pinch yourself. Finally, right before Javier stood up to leave, you threw your arms around him.

He grunted, catching you easily and burying his face in your neck. “Javier, you have no idea how happy I am to hear that you love me.” You pulled away to look at him, your eyes starting to tear up a little. “I’ve loved you from the moment I met you. Yes you are stubborn as fuck, and we may argue, but there is no one else I’d rather go through life with than you. You know me and you understand it all. I love you so much, Javi.”

Javier grinned, a big genuine smile that you only get to see once in a while. “You wanna go through the rest of life with me?” He asked. There was a tone of hinting in his voice, but you could tell it was a serious question.

“I want nothing more,” you said.

And years later, when you got married on his father’s ranch, you both were glad you finally opened up completely to each other.

[guessimwritingficsagain]

Delightful, chapter Two (Javier Peña x reader)

Pairing : Javier Peña x reader

Warnings : heavy drinking

Author’s note : This is going to be longer than I expected.

You were both silent in the car, except for the indications you occasionally gave him. Except you hadn’t been lying about the fact that you lived very close to the bar : the whole ride lasted about two minutes.

That didn’t deter Peña, though, who kept showing up when he could, and when he couldn’t he just sent someone else. Steve Murphy (you’d finally learnt his name) looked very happy to have to come here at two in the morning for a two-minute drive.

‘Is he bribing you ?’ You asked him once.

‘He’s doing all my paperwork for three months.’ He answered with good humour.

Which, shit, that wasn’t the answer you’d expected. It’d probably shown, because Steve softened and added :

‘Indulge him. He’s seen some shit, people he knew at the wrong place at the wrong time. He cares a lot.’

You nodded.

Next night was a slow one, and when a costumer, a really good looking one at that, got really flirty with you, you flirted right back - well, to the best of your abilities anyway, you were more than rusty in that department. It seemed to be enough for the guy, who clearly wanted to take you home. You were not opposed to that. Not at all. Except that when you closed shop, Peña was waiting there. You asked the guy to give you a minute and went to him.

‘I have a ride, tonight.’ You explained.

His eyes went to the guy and his eyebrows shot up. His answer was not one you’d expected.

‘Really ? That’s your type ?’

‘My type is not what this is about. He’s taking me home.’

Peña took his time assessing your ‘ride’, and the latter was obviously growing more confused, and, to your frustration, deterred by the situation as the seconds went by.

‘Peña.’ You snapped. That got his attention back to you, a thumb touching his lower lips pensively, a hand on his hip. After a moment of thinking, he conceded :

‘Yeah. Yeah, okay.’

You thought he was going to leave it at that but he didn’t. Of course he didn’t.

‘Didn’t think you were the missionary type, is all.’

And that, that undid you. Because though Peña had been a pain in the ass from day one, Peña had also been helpful, and caring, and you didn’t know what it was about him that got under your skin like that but one thing was sure : you weren’t friends. Two-minute drives three times a week didn’t count as bonding and him sitting on a stool, silent, until you closed the bar didn’t count as that either. He had no right to get this familiar with you. So you sneered :

‘You’re an asshole.’

He shrugged and lit a cigarette :

‘So I’ve been told.’

You turned around and walked to that guy you didn’t even remember the name of and hated yourself for listening closely to the sound of Peña’s car leaving.

The worst part of it all, though : Peña’d been right. The dude was boring and the sex, mediocre. So, out of spite, you didn’t tell Peña you were on holiday the next week. And holidays meant going out for drinks with friends, in a bar that was not were your worked. So you did just that. And you had a wonderful night, that first day off, and you got really drunk.

You woke up at 12 to someone pounding at your door like they were trying to kick it down. Still in your clothes from last night, a nice dress you didn’t like to wear at work because it drove you some unwanted attention but liked just for yourself, you opened the door to see Javier Peña fuming and angry.

‘Why the fuck didn’t you tell me you were on holiday ?’

Your head was aching, and you weren’t in the mood because you needed some water into your system before you could face anything but he didn’t let you answer anyway and kept going :

‘I fucking showed up and you weren’t there. Drove here and you didn’t answer. Came again this morning and you didn’t answer either. What the fuck are you thinking ?’

You weren’t in the mood. You were hungover, you needed some water and maybe something greasy, and you weren’t in the mood.

‘I don’t need you to baby-sit me, I’m pretty sure that if someone had wanted to kill me they’d have done it in the month and a half you’ve been monitoring everything I do.’ You spat.

Later, you’d recognize you’d been unfair. You’d remember Steve’s words. Later, you’d realized you’d talked with the assurance of someone who doesn’t know what it’s like. Who doesn’t know anything about anything, even though you should know better because what got you there in the first place was seeing a man’s brain all over the concrete.

Peña din’t say a word. He turned back, and left. You didn’t see him for a long time after that.

———

Steve kept picking you up, from time to time, the bags under his eyes heavier every time you saw him. On a Sunday, he showed up in the clothes you’d seen him wear three days before, and he showed up at the beginning of your shift. He asked for a whisky and

‘Keep ‘em coming.’

‘What’s wrong ?’

He didn’t answer right away, instead shooting a hey man without heart at Emil, who answered with a little more energy, even though his little girl had kept him up all night the day before. Okay, the night of the living dead, then. Good thing you liked that movie.

When Emil got to the kitchen and with no costumer in sight, Steve finally asked :

‘You know what I did, on Friday ?’

You shook your head, suddenly on edge because of the tone of his voice. There was something breaking there. Then, with false casualty, he offered :

‘I beat the shit out of a dude just because he was snorting coke in an airport’s bathroom.’

You stopped everything.

‘Why are you telling me this ?’

You didn’t like the way your voice wavered, but the question was genuine. There were supposed to be boundaries.

‘Because Connie’s gone back to the fucking States and I heard bartenders were the best shrinks.’ He answered, downing his drink and motioning for another. You wondered if this was wise, letting him drink. But you figured you weren’t his mother, you figured he needed that. You figured you hadn’t seen your friends in forever, so much that Steve Murphy was starting to look like one.

You found a middle ground and settled, pouring him another whisky :

‘You’re not driving me home, tonight. But you’re crashing on my couch.’

Steve hummed in answer.

Later, when he had his arm around your shoulder to steady himself, laughing way too hard at a joke that really wasn’t that funny, you wondered at the irony of the situation : the state he was in, the man supposedly there to protect you was probably more like to shoot himself in the foot trying to aim at someone. When you voiced the thought, Steve barked a laugh :

‘I don’t even have my fucking gun with me, right now.’

And :

‘That reminds me. You fucked him ? Peña ? That’s why he won’t come anymore ?’

‘Fuck you, Murphy. I didn’t.’

He went silent for a while, let go of your shoulder to turn and look at you, feet unsteady. He would have been a funny looking sight if you hadn’t known what had gotten him in the state in the first place.

‘You know why I do this ?’ He asked, the very picture of seriousness. ‘This, I mean.’ He clarified, a finger waving from him to you.

You shook your head. He stopped walking, raised a finger, and, an air of gravity and wisdom about him that made you laugh because he burped.

‘I do this because it helps Peña sleep at night. So, in the morning, he’s not so grumpy. And he doesn’t drink all of the coffee. Because that coffee is shit, and it makes him grumpier. Seriously, that fucking DEA coffee …’

He started walking again, but you were kind of frozen. You knew you’d been unfair to him, but never stopped to think Peña had cared enough to potentially ask Steve to keep coming to get you. It’d been months, after all, since what you called The Incident just so you didn’t call it The Image you still dreamt about every other night and probably would for the rest of your life or The Image that popped up at random times during the day and reduced you to a shaking mess.

‘You comin’ ?’ Steve asked.

You jogged up to him.

‘That was a long time ago, why do you keep coming ?’

‘We identified the guy. Javi doesn’t wanna stop this until we catch him him or, you know, pull a bullet in him. Never too safe.’

Fuck.

After a beat, Steve added :

‘Though, I am pretty useless right now, right ? Considering I’m completely shit-faced.’

He laughed again and, a few minutes later, dropped on your couch and started snoring.

———

The place was really busy, so you didn’t have time to think about the fact that Javier Peña was sitting in a booth with Murphy, or the fact that maybe you owed him an apology.

Steve had gotten the first round. You were not watching if they needed a new one. No. You weren’t. You had not been wondering if Peña was going to get the second one. No.

He did. He got the second one. And he came straight to you. You gave him the beers, tongue-tied now that you had a chance to speak. You hated yourself, in that moment, but you as he was beginning to turn around, you let yourself go :

‘I’m sorry.’ You mumbled, grabbing his forearm.

He was looking at you, silent.

‘I’m sorry.’ You repeated, more strongly, squeezing his forearm.

He looked at you for a bit, sighed quietly and answered :

‘It’s okay.’

‘But it’s not.’ You shot back immediately. ‘You’re… You’re insufferable. And I felt like I could’t do anything on my own. But you know the risks. I don’t. You were trying to protect me, and I was a bitch about it.’

He put down the beers at that, and sat down.

‘I’ve seen people I care about get fucked because they were here at the wrong place at the wrong time. But here’s one thing I don’t wanna hear.’ He said. ‘I don’t wanna hear that my favorite bartender has been killed because she was at the wrong place at the wrong time.’

He’d kept his voice light but you could feel how heavy the words were.

‘I’m sorry.’ You said again. Because that was all you could think of.

———

Peña started showing up at the bar again. When he did, he usually waited until you closed to walk you home. It wasn’t often, once every two weeks, but you liked it.

You were worried, though, because now that you knew what he did for a living, him not showing up could mean something had gone wrong. You’d never called Steve to ask.

One day, he did show up. It was late, you were dealing with some drunk asshole who couldn’t understand the word no. He put an end to the whole thing when he just sat down and asked :

‘Can you get me a shot of that good whiskey, babe ?’

That was enough to get the man off your back, and you were so relieved to see him you didn’t say anything. And then, the babe incident became a thing.

Give me a whisky, but not the crappy one, babe.

Yeah, I had a shitty day. You don’t wanna know about it, babe.

We need to put a second lock on your door. That neighborhood is shit, babe.

And, on one memorable moment,

I heard from Steve that your couch is a delight. I’m jealous I never got to try it. Mind if I use it tonight ? I’m fucking exhausted, and you don’t live exactly close to my place, babe.

You should have said something, but Peña was talking to you more and more, and you found that you kinda liked him, so you let him call you that. You also let him crash on your couch whenever he felt like it.

Which meant, all in all, that your couch was rarely unoccupied. You’d even finally gotten them toothbrushes, as months went by, a green one for Steve and a pink one for Javier. The latter had tensed when you told him, and you knew that wasn’t because of the color.

That man and his fear of commitment to anything.

One evening, as you were making a cocktail, the movements a force of habit, you heard a very familiar voice say :

‘So, this is where you’ve been hiding all this time ?’

You turned to see your friend Nick, standing on the other side of the counter. Nick and you had been friends for a long time, the type of friends that never really lose touch with each other, the type of friends you can call anytime. You finished what you were doing in a hurry (and maybe screwed up a bit on the alcohol but you figured the costumer would be happy to get some more than intended) and circled the counter to hug him.

You spent the evening catching up whenever you had time to spare. Nick was here on a business trip, and had asked your parents where you worked. He had a place to stay, but that didn’t prevent Javier from saying :

‘So, he’s taking you home tonight I guess.’

He was, in a way. You’d both agreed it would be nice to spend the rest of the night at your place to catch up. You answered :

‘Men and women can be just friends, you know.’

‘Not in my opinion.’

His answer stung. So you pushed, because the trashcan of denial was just that big :

‘Yeah, what about us ?’

His eyes were dark, heavy with something, as he answered :

‘Yeah, what about us, babe ?’

You’d known for a while you didn’t quite hate Javier Peña, but what you felt then, that was new.

Chapter one - Chapter three

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