#netflix narcos

[hausofmamadas]

SE LA ARRANCA A MORDIDAS | mystery of Amado's anonymous lady-hustlers, solved

⁂

Holy father who art in heaven, do I have some fucking cracked ass head-canon nonsense for us to👏🏽 day👏🏽 …………….. let’s get to it shall we??

so idk if anyone anyone being the largely nonexistent narcos fandom aka the void Im speaking into remembers that one scene from Narcos in S3 where sleazy!OG!Amado told that one story about those sex workers who robbed him blind, mid-mamadita?

anyone ..... no?

dwdwdw that's okay bc I brought some visual aids to assist in our collective remembrance of this glorious occasion

⁂

The scene starts like this: 👇

Okay, yeah, right? legendary? legendary. just truly legendary behavior skfjskj on all fronts. but the identities of these social justice warriors— no wait activists— no wait, crusad— er no, patriarchy demolishers? iconic crimies with a penchant for for mid-fellatic felonies like armed robbery have been completely anonymous thus far.

…………… until now.

Bc as always, Narcoverse papis Doug Miro, Andrés Baiz, and Carlo Bernard, never fail to fill in the blanks except when they do cause Griselda left a lot to be desired and this is arguably the best ep of the show which, yeah. it’s never ideal when the best ep of a 6ep limited series is the 2nd one si me entiendes😬😬😬 but we digress because im 99.99999999999999% sure if these two sex workers from Griselda aren’t also the two legends who hustled Amado’s dick money out his pants pockets without having to fire so much as a single shot, I’m fairly certain they’re at least inspired by and carrying the torch aka bottling and distilling that Big Dick Energy to perfection of those brave women.

What gave me this idea? So glad you asked dear reader you didn’t but we’ll just pretend you did cause this my haus KEKW…. No like even I rolled my eyes at my own self for that but i couldn’t refrain either.

It all happened when I was nursing my new obsession with a one, Mr. Darío Sepúlveda a name I would most certainly believe to be fucking fake were he not an irl human bean.

👇👇 THIS slice of sweet, cherry pie right tf here

And I stumbled upon this one specific part, where the look on this chick’s face is SO FUCKINGKDHDHDGWVE SIMILAR to Amado’s face, when he’s explaining 👇👇👇👇👇👇👇how the burgling commences when the gurgling is interrupted by with an uncomfortable silence, as this chick proceeds to, hog still in mouth, cease any and all throat activity and fuckingskdfjskl just stare. up. at. him.

all 🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️

Like tell me homegirl’s face here👇👇 👇👇 doesn’t look just like it????????????

YOU CANTSJSHSJSHWUS YOU cANT. EVIDENCE IS IRREFUTABLE.

Anyway. Movingright along.

So, if aforementioned homegirl is the 🙇🏻‍♀️ from la historia del grande señor de los cielos, then that makes this ☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️ ... homegirl’s accomplice

with the👇👇sidearm

and like the general only slightly subtle "I eat dicks like urs for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and a midnight snack" vibes that this duo is serving throughout but esp below bc never will I ever not refer to a fuckboy as mancito from now until I'm in my grave alsdkjfa like MANCITO. THE WAY SHE SAYS IT WITH SUCH ALSKDJFKS CONTEMPT, CAN YOU STAND IT????? makes it so clear in my mind's eye how they could 100000000000%% be the unnamed heroes thieves from Amado's little story

also full 180 just on the low but can we all moment of silence for this 👇👇 FUCKINGSDLDFJ LOOK ON DARIO'S FACE WHEN SHE CORRECTS HIM, "quien te dijo eso? ... un mancito?" LIKE HE FUCKIGNSLDFKJSLKJ KNOWS, HE KNOWS HE HAS ERRED ON THIS PATH, HE KNOWS HE CANNOT PASS GO, CANNOT COLLECT 200 DOLLARS AND HE HAS THE GOOD SENSE TO BE GRACIOUS ABOUT IT AND IMAS;DFLIJA;LWEJF;KAJWE;FAKJ; SFUCKINGS DFKLJSLDF JA;K CRYING, SCREAMING, THROWING UP, INCONSOLABLE. LIKE LOOK. AT THIS. OKAY, THAT A MAN, NO MANCITO

*smacks own face, jiggles head back and forth, takes deep breath* anyway.... back to the story

and this is where this prob super unhinged really solidifies bc let's join hands class and pledge alliegance to the most impressive and noteworthy alpha but in the most non-cringe way assertion of dominance I have ever fucking witnessed in all my days. Like, legit the next time i'm into a dude the way i say this like it's not an 'if' bc RIP to my love life lbr fuck all that playing coy, fuck all that flirting. We just gonna get right to the point bc imma climb all over his lap, purr in his face, and ask about his hobbies like it's the 1978 equivalent of a Hinge profile SKSKKSK

and the next time I am spurned I will absolutely grab his junk in a naked hahahaksdjfk grab for a proper leash power to gain the upper hand in the situation and shame any and all menfolk who claim to not like me bc I'm not their 'type.' which like sksjsjsjs admittedly poor Dario just said that as a pretense to get the chisme from the chick who hates Grislenda bc the look of unconcealed regret on his face when Mistress Mamma Crotch Snatcher Morton gets up seems like a good indicator he would've paid to play with his balls

BUT LIKE SIDE BY SIDE WITH AMADO GETTING TO THE metaphorical CLIMAX bc I sincerely doubt they let him bust, mid-robbery OF HIS STORY, CAN WE NOT SEE HOW CLEARLY THESE TWO WOMEN WERE THE ONES WHO JACKED AMADO OFF– NO WAIT THEY DECIDEDLY DID NOT DO THAT ALL OF AMADO’S SHIT, LIKE CAUGHT PAPI WITH HIS ACTUAL PANTS DOWN SKSJSB

and lest any of us were convinced that Lady "Hijueputa Mandona Esa" who hates Griselda wasn't the one holding the gun on Toque, telling Amado she's gonna have her friend chew clear through his disco stick like some froot by the foot, please refer to exhibit B here ☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️☝️where she's manspreading for jesus in these fucking hot pants. I mean try to tell me that ain't power. c'mon

AND THEN THE WAY SHE FUCKINGSLDFKJSL HUSTLES DARIO FOR EXTRA CASH, ALL "you gotta pay me more than that pittance bc yeah, she were a mouthy bitch but I didn't hate her that bad" ensuring he had no choice but to leave a tip, just like our pobre mujeriego, himbo extraordinaire, Sleazy!OG!Amado

And if this isn't the most iconic reminder to tip your servers, folks which everyone should be doing already I truly don't know what is.

═

taglist: @ashlingnarcos @tofuwildcard @narcolini @drabbles-mc

[pvnkesttt]

the three of them? inseparable.joel miler/athena kallis/javier peña - poly!katipō. commission done by @kenobiwanx

-

OH MY GODDDDDDSSSSS, IT'S HERE!!! THEY'RE HERE!!!!! LOOK HOW AMAZING THESE THREE LOOK, OMG!!! THEY LOOK SO GOOD AND PRETTY TOGETHER!!! I'd like to thank the wonderful @kenobiwanx for this AMAZING commission of my tlou/narcos/spidey!OC, athena kallis alongside her two partners, joel miller and javier peña, they did such a good job with these three and I couldn't thank them enough!!!!

these three have become EVERYTHING.

tlou-verse: a masterlist.

[marvelwitchergilmore]

To Shitty Days and Shitty Families

Summary: Javier Peña x Fe!Reader - Your parents come to Columbia to visit you at work only they seem to be more interested in your personal life than they do your work. 

Disclaimer: Shitty families, patriarchy I suppose. Swearing, angst, ideology that women are only fit for marriage- reader argues against this point. Reader stands up for herself, Javi talks with her folks when she leaves. 

You had been dreading it all day since first listening to your answering machine that morning. And everyone could see it in you. Steve had taken one look at you as he stood outside the complex kissing goodbye to Connie and knew something was wrong. 

“You look like someone just shot you.” Connie added. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. I-I’ll see you at work.”

By the time you pulled up to work, you spent half of the day bouncing your leg under the desk as you tried your best to fill out the usual paperwork and the only time you said what was going on, out loud, was when you were stood on the steps of the Embassy with Peña as he smoked his cigarettes. Despite you having a habit of removing them from him, he still continued to smoke. 

“Who are you looking for? You look like Steve when he goes duck hunting.”

“My parents are coming.”

“To the Embassy.”

“The Embassy, Columbia. Here. Wherever.”

“And you’re worried because…”

“Because they haven’t talked to me in almost three years and now are coming to Columbia.”

“That’s nice.”

“No. No it’s not.”

Peña nodded. “Okay.”

“If you see a cab pull up, shout for me, okay?”

“Sure.” Peña could see the worry in your eyes as you searched the parking lot once more before turning around and heading back inside. 

Only, Peña wasn’t outside when they turned up. So, instead, they walked inside, found your desk and stood there, examining the mess and tutting. 

“She could never keep anything tidy. Always messy. Always the family mess.”

“Can I help you?” Steve asked as he approached. 

Somehow, from the time it took you walking from the evidence room after hearing the familiar click of heels to reaching your desk, your mother had already seemed to have painted herself a saint to Murphy and Peña. 

“Where is she anyway? You know, she could never keep time in high school, either. Always marked late.”

Both Peña and Murphy highly doubted that since you were always early - to everything. Hell, you’d get into work an hour earlier than them. But, they decided not to question your mother who already seemed distracted in scanning your entire body with her eyes making you suddenly aware of your skin and one of the many reasons why you were glad you left the states. 

Your mother awkwardly moved in to hug you, making the whole thing a clear spectacle for onlookers. “You’ve gotten thicker, dear.”

“Mom.”

“Oh, just a jest, dear. Just a jest.” your mother laughed. “I’ve just met your bosses.”

“They’re not my bosses, mom. They’re my partners.”

“Oh.” That seemed to be the first shock to your mom. “Well, they’re handsome all the same and since you all seem to be friends, I’ve invited them to dinner with us tonight. And you’ll be bringing your wife, no doubt Agent Murphy?”

Steve nodded, though the look from you made him question if he should have said yes. 

“Wouldn’t miss meeting your parents for the world, Agent.” Steve smiled at you. 

“I’ve left you a note on your desk on where to meet us. If you can find it amongst this mess. And 7 o’clock sharp, dear. I know what you’re like for time keeping. It was nice to meet you boys. See you all soon.”

You wanted the ground to swallow you whole and take you to Hell now.

Far too soon for your liking, 7 o’clock rolled around. 

Murphy and Connie were already there with your parents, sat in the very back of the restaurant, glasses of wine just poured. Peña must have only just arrived as he was still standing and seemed a little out of breath as he made his way round, kissing your mother’s cheek, Connie’s and shaking your father’s hand whilst he shook Steve’s shoulder. 

“Late again, I see.” your mother said as you finally reached the table. 

“By two minutes, mom. I had to find parking.”

“Never mind, you’re here now, finally.” Your mom seemed to stress the word ‘finally’ before turning to Steve and Connie. “Shall we order? I know it takes my daughter a while to choose what she wants. She’s always been like that with her life.”

You tried your best to keep your breathing steady. “Mom.”

“What?” your mother laughed. “Oh, I’m just joking, honey. You know that.”

You looked to your napkin covered plate, trying to subtly take in deep breaths. “You okay?” 

You looked to your left as leaned into Peña who, for the first time in a while, seemed…concerned. You faked a smile as best as you could. “I’m fine.”

“So, Peña.”

“Javi, please.”

“Javi.” your mother smiled. “You’re working with Steve to catch Escobar? Oh, that must be so dangerous. But, I’m sure someone like yourself is able to handle it.”

“He works with me, too, mom.” you pointed out only, she seemed to ignore that. 

Javi looked at you for a quick moment before turning back to your mother. “It’s dangerous for anyone being an American in Columbia.”

From across the table, Connie shot you a look which, in total honesty, you didn’t fully know if you returned it. All you wanted to do was get over this meal and go home. 

“I am famished.” Connie announced. “What are we all eating?” she scanned her eyes over the menu and you tried your best to thank her telepathically across the table. 

“Well, I’m sure my daughter is still deciding.”

“Actually, I know what I want, mom.”

“Oh, well…that’s a change.”

By the time the waiter came around and took your order, your mother trying to order and loudly shouting Spanish in a very clear American accent, you were ready to leave. 

You gave your order, your voice at a normal decibel, your Spanish rolling off the tongue, your mother looked to you slowly. “No need to show off, dear.”

“I wasn’t-”

“Darling, just because your mother doesn’t have the best Spanish, doesn’t mean you should make her look stupid.”

“What? I-”

Before you could even think about finishing your sentence, your mother turned to Connie. “Constance, dear.”

“Please, call me Connie.”

“Of course, honey.” your mother smiled. “Tell me, what is married life like? I remember when I married my dear, dear husband. Oh, I was so happy.”

Your mother continued to ramble about her wedding day - a story you had heard every day of your life before you left to join the DEA in Columbia. Meanwhile, you took a large gulp of your wine trying to convince yourself it was whiskey from Peña’s desk drawer and instead of being sat in a candle-lit restaurant, you were back at your desk, drowning in work files all the while the alcohol burned your throat. 

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” you whispered under your breath and in return you felt Peña’s hand lay itself on your thigh. 

“Just give me a signal and I’ll get us all out of here. I think Steve is about to throw himself out of the door.”

“I wouldn’t blame him.”

Peña smiled at you before turning back to the rest of the table where you found your mother still talking. 

“Oh, and when my Rosie got married? Oh, that was the happiest day of my life!”

“Thanks, mom.”

“Oh, dear, you know what I mean.”

“It’s not kind to poke fun at your mother, darling.” your father added. 

“But it was. It was the happiest day of my life seeing my darling daughter get married and have a good, strapping man on her arm.”

“There’s more to life than just getting married, mom.” This has been your argument your entire life. Your mother always wanted you to get married and the day you said you were leaving for Columbia instead of announcing your engagement to your now ex-boyfriend…that was a long day. 

“Don’t argue with your mother, darling.”

You took another deep breath and another gulp of wine. 

“Don’t drink too much, dear. We wouldn’t want you to embarrass the family anymore.”

It was still your first glass. And it, somehow, miraculously, remained half full. 

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh, look, here comes the food.” Connie announced as the waiter approached. 

Thankfully, this deterred the conversation for fifteen minutes whilst the waiter handed the correct dishes to each person. Your mother thanked them rather loudly once more. 

“Mom, they’re not deaf. You don’t have to yell.”

Your father called your name. “Don’t be rude to your mother.” he scolded. 

“Oh, no, dear. Don’t worry. She’s just on one tonight.” your mother replied before sitting back down and looking at your plate in disgust. “Are you really going to eat all of that?”

It was a normal sized bowl with chicken soup and bread. Except, the way your mother spoke to you made it sound as if the bowl was a sharing size and was filled with nothing but crap. 

“You know, I could have ordered for you.”

“I don’t want salad, mother.”

“Well, forgive me for trying to look out for the well-being of my child.”

“Why don’t you just focus on yourself and Rosie and I’ll be completely fine.”

It was now that your mother looked to Connie, Steve and Javi. “I am so sorry about her. She gets like this sometimes. I told her, if she married the man she had, she wouldn’t be this uptight and worried.”

“I didn’t want to marry Daniel, mom. You know that.”

“I understand you like to rebel against me and make me out as the bad guy, y/n. But, one day, you will realise I’m just doing what is best for you.”

“Best for me or best for you, mom?”

“Now, what exactly are you excusing me for, dear?”

“Darling, don’t pick a fight here. I understand you like to make a scene but-”

“Make a scene?”

“She was always dramatic as a kid,” your mother explained to the rest of the table. 

“Mom, please don’t talk about me as if I’m not here.”

“See,” your mother tried to point out. “Even at Rosie’s wedding, she tried to stop it.”

“Because she wasn’t sure if she wanted to get married!” you raised your voice a little. 

“But she did! And now she had two beautiful little children and a wonderful home and a caring husband. Don’t shout at me just because you wanted her life. Because you could have had it.”

“You think I want her life? Sat at home looking after two children whilst her husband flies from state to state and barely knows his own children?”

“Maybe we should-” Connie went to stand but your mother put her hand out to her. 

“No, dear, please, sit down.” your mother smiled. “She’s just annoyed that her life isn’t how she thought it would be.”

“I didn’t want to marry him, mom.” you repeated. “Can you hear me?”

“Just eat your soup, dear.” your mother scolded. “There is no need to embarrass me any further.”

“Your mother is right, darling. Why don’t you eat your soup? If you're not happy with it, your mother will happily order you a salad.”

“I said I didn’t want a salad.”

“Remember dear, a moment on the lips, forever on the hips.” one of your mother’s favourite quotes. “And from here I can already see some of the fat building. You know you’ll never get a husband looking like that or doing what you do.”

“I don’t want a husband!” you yelled. “I didn’t want to marry Danny or stay in America. You! You wanted me married off so you could brag to your friends that your daughters got married before Carrie’s. You’d rather have me marry someone I never loved, someone who would rather sleep with every woman on legs in the whole fucking city, including the darling daughters of your friends, than have me join the police academy and come to Columbia.”

“Dear, lower your voice. People are staring!” your mother scolded through gritted teeth. 

“I did something with my life, mom.” you pointed out. “Any parent would be proud if they’re kid was happy. But no, not you. You’d only be happy if I lived by your rules and followed your footsteps to a life of complete fucking boredom.”

“You should watch your mouth, young lady.” your mother warned. “No one wants a woman who has a mouth like you.”

All you could do was let out a laugh whilst holding back your anger as best as you could. “You know what, mom. I-I can’t do this. Just…just go home. Tell Rosie I’m alive or tell her nothing. I wouldn’t want to be an embarrassment to you anymore than I already have. Sorry, guys.”

You apologised quickly to your teammates before you threw your napkin onto the table and grabbed your jacket. You laid a couple bills on the table before walking away. The waiter must have watched the whole thing because, as you made your way to the exit, he gave you a bittersweet smile. 

“I’ll wrap your food up and have Popsy send it over.”

“That’s alright,” you replied. “I’m not hungry anymore.”

With that, you left the restaurant and headed to your car before driving away.  Meanwhile, back at the table, Steve, Connie and Javi all sat in shock. You never revealed much about your family but whatever they had just witnessed was the last thing they thought they’d ever expect. Even as it happened, none of them could comprehend it. 

“On that note, we’re going to take off.” Steve announced standing up before asking the waiter if they could have the rest of their food packed to-go. However, Javi remained seated. Connie leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before Steve shook his hand and they both left with the brown bag in their hand. 

“I’m-”

“You should be proud of her, you know.” Javi said before confirming your name so they knew 100% completely who he was talking about. “Before she came down here, we weren’t really getting anywhere. But within days of her arrival, she had most of that place in order. We caught plenty of people and stopped a £3 billion worth shipment of coke from getting into the states because of her.”

“She gets that from me.” your mother said, but Javi just…smiled. 

“Maybe. But I highly doubt it.” your mother’s face dropped and your father was about to argue back, but Javi cut him short. “Who she is…that can’t be taught. That’s learned, from first hand experience. Sure, she’s not married, but she is respected. But a shit ton of people. Hell, if she tells the Ambassador not to do something, they listen to her. Because she’s good at her job. Just because she’s not you, does not give you the right to see her as nothing more than a problem to be solved or an embarrassment. She’s not lucky to have you two as parents, but you are lucky to have her. To be able to call her and talk to her and know her. Don’t take her for granted because sooner or later, you won’t even have the privilege of calling her your daughter.”

“Are you threatening us, son?”

“No.” Javi shook his head, standing. “I’m saying if I was her, I would have dropped you years ago. Instead, you get to call her your daughter. But I doubt even now that you have that opportunity. Like she said, there’s more to life than getting married. And she’s living proof of that. Don’t ignore her like I expect you have been doing her whole life, just because she’s not the living poster girl of your planned out life.”

With that, Javi laid his own share of the bill on the table before walking outside, lighting a cigarette and walking to his car. He doubted you would have gone home in case your mother came looking for you to yell at you some more. And he was right in his thinking because, as he did a tour of the Embassy parking lot, he found your car parked alone. He parked a couple spots down from you before squashing the smoke under his shoe and walking inside. From there, he found you sat at your desk no longer dressed in the dinner dress but rather a pair of black trousers and a black shirt. So, you’d been at the gun range. He could see the oiled cuticles of your fingers as you reached for your disposable coffee cup. The hair that had rested in soft curls was now thrown up into a messy ponytail that held itself up under the command of your bobble. 

What he guessed was that through stress, some of the hairs had fallen from your head and haphazardly framed your face under the orange light of your desk lamp. 

On your desk, he could see the soft trail of smoke from a cigarette. You weren’t a smoker. Hell, you’d pulled enough cigarettes, both lit and unlit, from his own lips before to stop him from smoking. So, when you didn’t do it that morning as he stood beside you on the steps of the Embassy, that should have been his first warning about how bad the day would go. 

Though he couldn’t blame you. If he were you, he probably would have gone through 2 packs of cigarettes by now. 

He watched you as you took a long drag from the cigarette, letting the smoke fill your lungs until they were over spilling. Even then, you took in some more air as you moved it away from your lips, letting it rest lazily between your two fingers as you rested the rest of your head against your hand. 

Slowly, you let the smoke release itself from your lungs before you took another deep breath of fresh air this time, and opened your eyes. 

“Don’t judge me.” you told Javi when you spotted him standing at the steps of the office. But, he just smiled and walked closer, going first to his desk, before bringing his bottle of whiskey and two glasses with him to your desk. 

“Oh, no judgement here.” Javi told you before sitting down across from you and pouring a decent amount of liquor into each glass. 

Handing you one, you thanked him. “To shitty days.”

“And shitty families.” you laughed before clinking the glass together and taking a rather large gulp and letting it burn your insides as it made its way down. 

Javi sat back in silence for a few moments watching you. “How are you feeling?”

“I don’t know.” you answered honestly. “Part of me wants to scream, the other wants to cry and the rest…just is thankful it’s over.”

“Have they always been like that?”

“My whole life.” you said. “Rosie was their perfect little girl. Always listened. Did everything without question. Danced perfect ballet at her recitals. Would always sing beautifully and could quote Shakespeare off the cuff.”

Javi furrowed his brows. “I’ve heard you speak Shakespeare. English and Spanish. You put the local production to shame.”

You narrowed your eyes a little, “Not as well as Rosie.”. 

Taking another drink, you mirrored Javi by leaning back in your own chair. “God, I remember being so jealous of her as a kid. She was always the teacher’s favourite. She could never put a foot wrong. I’d make one spelling mistake in my English essay in 5th grade and they called in my parents telling them I was distracted. That I was slipping from my education. My mother grounded me for a month and gave me a lecture every day about how Rosie was this perfect child and why couldn’t I be the same? You know, I never got into trouble at school. I got good grades, I listened to all of my teachers, I even won the local baking competition.”

“You bake?”

You smiled. “I bake. I entered it without my mom’s permission and got my teacher to sign off on it. But, God, you should have seen the look on all the parent’s faces. “She only won because they feel sorry for her.”, and then the kids started saying the same thing to me at school. The only time where I wasn’t compared to my sister was in the Academy. It was the first time I felt I belonged somewhere.”

You took another deep breath, “Jesus, you don’t want to hear about this.”

But Javi shook his head. “No. Continue.”

You looked in his eyes for a moment, seeing if he was being serious. And, once you realised he was, you slowly sat back again and continued. 

“So, you joined the academy?” Javi asked, helping you pick up where you left off. 

You nodded a small thanks and continued. “I joined the Academy and,” you laughed a little, “when my mom found out, she went ballistic. God, it was like I shot her puppy. Or Rosie, godforbid. So you can imagine, when I turned up one afternoon and told her I was moving to Columbia instead of going house hunting with Danny, - who I had broken up with, by the way, six months earlier - you can imagine how she took it. Said I was just jealous and running away because my sister was getting married. That I just wanted the spotlight for myself but the biggest thing was…I didn’t. I just wanted to disappear. I didn’t want people’s eyes on me or have a spotlight on my name. Any time it was, it was always because I was a disgrace to the family name. That I wasn’t Rosie. But…on her wedding day, I realised….I realised I wasn’t jealous of her. In fact, when she came and found me and asked me if she was doing the right thing…I felt sorry for her. But that didn’t last long because at the drop of a hat, when I said she didn’t have to marry him, that she could come with me or I could get her a plane ticket to wherever she wanted, she accused me of wanting to ruin her wedding and her life. That I was jealous of her because I couldn’t find someone to love me the way her husband does her. And, that mom was right. That I would never find anyone because what person in their right mind would want to love someone like me.”

There was other stuff that you didn’t mention to Javi, about what else your sister had said and what your mother clearly agreed with. But, after the meal tonight, he could take a pretty good guess. 

“So, what did you do?”

You took a breath, forcing the tears back into your eyes. “I did what she asked for that day. I sat out of the wedding. Sat at the back. Stayed out of everyone’s way to avoid ruining her wedding. And halfway through the reception, I left. I didn’t even say goodbye. I thought about it, but I knew they wouldn’t have cared. They were in their own happy little world that didn’t need or even want me. So, I grabbed my bags, hailed a cab and got on the first flight into Columbia.”

“So, when you landed-”

“2 hours later, I was here starting work.” you confirmed. 

“Did anyone know?”

“No.” you said, sitting back up and laying your glass on your desk. “Until a couple hours ago, no-one knew what my parents were like. I’m just…I’ll be glad when they’re back in the states. They didn’t even tell me they were coming and I woke up at 4 on the dot. I didn’t know why. I never usually do and then, an hour later, she left a message on my machine saying she was getting on her second flight and that she’s already arranged to have a cab pick her up from the airport since she knows that I’d probably still be in bed - the last time I was in bed past 8 o’clock I was on a flight to Miami.”

After a while of talking with Peña as he asked you questions about your childhood, he looked at the clock that read a quarter to midnight. “Come on, we better go home.”

“Javier Peña, in bed before 2 am? Is the world truly falling apart?”

Javi smiled at you, grabbing your jacket for you. “Come on, I’ll drive us home.”

“But you’ve had a drink-”

“I’m still under the limit.” Javi assured you. “Come on, let's go.”

By the time Javi pulled up outside of your apartment block, he locked his car behind him before you both went off in separate directions to your own apartments. 

“Peña?”

He looked back from his door. 

“Thank you, for today. It meant a lot, seriously.”

Javi smiled at you before unlocking his door and opening it up. “Anything for you, hermosa. Goodnight.”

“Night,” you smiled back before entering your own home and closing the door behind you. 

[xxhypersomnia]

NEW LOCKSCREEN AVAILABLE IN STORIES AND ON TUMBLR!🖤

All edits watermarked 💧 please use/share/credit

[arklaytears]

Drowning in Desire [Pt.1?] (Javier Peña x F! Reader)

t/w: references to escobar, sexual thoughts, i think that’s it?

a/n, i am so fucking rusty at writing and had an idea that i’m not sure is good.  tell me what you guys think, and maybe i’ll practice writing some drabbles to get back into the swing of things?  i want to continue this story with the idea i have, but i’m not sure if it’s good enough rrraaaaa gotta love having that good ol’ anxiety!

·̩̩̥＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥·̩̩̥＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥·̩̩̥＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥

Rubbing at the back of his neck, Javier looked up to the Embassy, knowing he was going to be getting an earful and then some for being late… Again.  Though, who could blame him, what with the drinking he had done the night before.  Decompression is very important when you’re trying to take down a new drug lord!  Honestly, the hangover that stung behind his eyes definitely was punishment enough if anyone were to ask him, and they wouldn’t.  The DEA agent flicked at his lighter, watching it glow with a bright orange flame as he brought it to the cigarette that hung loosely from his lips.  Taking in a deep inhale, holding the smoke in his mouth for a moment, he let out a quick exhale as he marched up the steps to what was going to be more than likely an impossibly grueling work day. Though, what he didn’t expect as he had moved inside, was a woman, one he’d never seen.  The agent’s eyes looked over you, raking along the curves of your body as your black pencil skirt hugged along your hips tightly, the sky blue button up you wore tucked into it so comfortably, but his eyes couldn’t help but follow the slope of your breasts.  Honestly, he was gawking, and he was so damn lucky that you were mid-conversation with none other than Steve Murphy.  The conversation seemed casual enough, and it was honestly a perfect opportunity to meet a new and attractive co-worker. Peña took another deep inhale of his cigarette, pulling it away from his lips as he casually sauntered over to the familiar face of Murphy.  Albeit, a little too casual as he slung his arm around the taller of the two’s shoulders, like they were truly the best of friends. Smiling up to him with a shit eating grin, “Mornin’ Murphy..”  His voice carried, the cigarette still aglow as he held it on the side of the other agent’s face, still wrapped around his shoulders.  Though, Murphy seemed to meet him with annoyance, most definitely over his tardiness.  But, Javier was not one to let the man get a word in, he saw as the blond took in a breath ready to chew him out, and he turned his head to the new face, his grin dropping to something more friendly.  Approachable.  “Nice to meet you…”  The agent’s voice trailed, awaiting for you to respond to him with something.  He peeked at you behind his orange sunglasses, ones he sported often, doing his best not to let his eyes wander to the small bit of skin exposed between the few buttons left undone on your blouse. The name he heard wasn’t from you, it was from Steve, picking up Javier’s arm and dropping it back with irritation as he watched him fumble with his cigarette for a moment.  Your name, he most definitely hadn’t heard it, especially around the office, but he couldn’t even finish his thought as his partner continued to speak.  “New face of the Embassy, at least to anyone looking to come inside.”  Maybe his asking about you had saved him from the wrath that Steve could rain upon him, though only momentarily as the lanky blond turned now to face him.  “Weird though, you’d think that you would have met her at the welcome party held this morning, yet I didn’t see you there..”  Snarky as he could be with Peña, he crossed his arms across his chest, brow quirking with his annoyance. You gave a small laugh, covering your mouth as you did, and it definitely didn’t go unnoticed by Javier.  Fuck, how he wanted to hear you laugh at something he said instead of at his expense. Among other things he’d love to hear come out of your pretty mouth.  “Hey, hey, hey!  Give me some credit!  You don’t know how crazy my morning was!”  Truly, it was nothing more than his limbs tangled in his sheets, a pillow over his head as he did his best to drown out the droning of his dreadful alarm.  Pushing his sunglasses down, he peeked over at Steve with the best puppy dog eyes he could muster.  His free hand moved to place the smoke between his lips again.  Quickly moving his hand to make a small ‘X’ over his heart,”Te lo juro, Murphy!” His antics were met with an eye roll, and he gave Javier a sharp and loud pat on the back, one that definitely shook the other from his stature.  Then you spoke, and he swore, it was angelic.  “Okay, okay.. This has to be Agent Peña.”  You blinked at him, your eyes meeting his for the first time as you extended your hand, repeating your name to him.  Reaching out, he gave a crooked grin, giving a small nod as his large hand engulfed your own in the formal greeting. God he loved women, fucking adored them.  His mind was definitely not one appropriate for work this morning.  Surely added to by the hangover that swirled around his still aching head.  That and the office hiring a siren to work their front desk.  A mix of both! “Heard a lot about you, Peña.”  you spoke, your voice sheepish and quiet.  Though he wanted to hear you say his name again.  Please, even his last name rolled off of your shy tongue with a tone that sounded hypnotic. “Only good things I would hope.”  He retorted, but as your eyes avoided his you gave another one of those small laughs. Javier watching your cheeks dimple as you did. “If that will make you feel better, then yes, all good things.”  You spoke in between your giggles, turning as the loud ringing of the phone you were to be on top of took your attention from the conversation, much to his own despair. “Well, good to meet you both.  Let me not lose my job on day one.”  You said, quickly moving your body around the front desk, letting your weight gently drop against your swivel chair, pulling yourself close as your hand extended to the phone to place it gingerly against your ear, speaking in a sweet sing-song voice, one that definitely seemed as though it was practiced with time. Javier did his best not to ogle, and quickly he knew he wouldn’t be able to as Murphy tugged at his blue button up, pulling his collar toward the room the two men shared as an office.  “Barking up the wrong tree, she has someone.”  The blond spoke, matter of factly.  It was as if all the air was deflated from him, his body feeling as though it were limp as he continued to be pulled.  “Didn’t you see the ring?  Engaged.” As they progressed to their office, he sat against his desk, hearing it screech against the floor slightly under the shift in weight.  “To think that I would be a man that would-”  He said, putting out his smoke in the ashtray that sat toward the corner of his desk, his partner so rudely interrupting him, “I don’t need to think, I know.  You are a dog Javi, and you have to leave her alone.  Why don’t you hit up Freckles?  Get it out of your system.” The blond spoke as his baby blues trailed over more of the Escobar case work, a smug smile across his face as he slouched forward.  The other day as they’d staked out, the all too easy to find ‘McPickle’, he had definitely said too much as the door was opened and he saw the familiar face of someone he’d.. Known.  A little intimately, albeit it was a pleasure house.  But, who could blame him!  It was all for casework, at least that is what he’d say if anyone were to ask him for more pressing details. “Cállate, Murphy.”  He spoke, grumbling it almost as he flicked his burnt out cigarette butt in his partner's direction before skulking to sit in his own chair, looking over his desk with all too much paperwork scattered atop it.  What a shitty fucking morning. ·̩̩̥＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊·̩̩̥ ·̩̩̥＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊·̩̩̥ ·̩̩̥＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊·̩̩̥ The day continued as normal, though a slow day as the two agents found themselves up to their ears in paperwork and case files they needed to read over and over and over again.  Javier felt his eyes growing weary, looking over to the clock as it slowly ticked by, tantalizing him that he could go home and finally sleep off his headache within mere minutes. “Fuck it, I’m heading out early.”  He said, knowing he could work his way out of a lashing from his boss the next day if she really gave a shit about those two minutes. “No way do you come in late, and go home early.  If I tried any of that shit the Ambassador would have my head for dinner.”  Steve spoke, stretching his arms behind him as he leaned back in his chair, taking a deep breath before leaning back in.  “One of these days it’s going to catch up to you Peña.” He waved him off, having really no energy to bicker, wanting nothing more than to return home and flop into his bed and kiss this arduous day goodnight.  Javier walked out of their office, closing the door behind him gently so as to not invoke anymore wrath from Murphy, and found himself heading toward the front.  Catching his eye immediately was you.  You in that damned fucking skirt, leaning over your desk to gather your own things for the day it seemed. Pushing a small stack of papers into your bag before slinging it over your shoulder, checking it at your side before turning to leave.  God, he could eat you alive.  Maybe Steve was right, he was an absolute dog, but was it not acceptable for a man to appreciate art when it’s directly in front of him?  Is it so wrong to admire from a comfortable distance?  Then he remembered what was told to him, ‘Didn’t you see the ring?  Engaged.’ Well, now was as good a time as any as he found himself walking a little faster, being sure to catch up with you and lean in over your shoulder with that friendly smile once again.  “How was the first day, newbie?” You jumped slightly on his approach, clutching to the leather strap that was crossed over your chest as he startled you from your scurry to make it outside.  It just made his grin grow even wider as his words left him. “Ah, it was definitely.. A day.”  You blinked, unable to keep your eye contact with him for long, which definitely didn’t go unnoticed by him.  He was quick to pick up your gaze moving to the clock above the door, then down to double check it with your watch.  You definitely seemed to be in a bit of a rush to get out of here.  Though, he was as well, so how could he blame you? “You’re allowed to say it was boring, hermosa.”  Speaking in a tone that dripped like honey as he spoke the pet name.  And he swears he all but died and was sent above as he saw the flush of pink rise to your cheeks as you definitely were at a loss for words.  Though not at all out of character for Javier unbeknownst to you, and as you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear he noticed the small diamond ring that sat pretty on your delicate fingers.  So Murphy wasn’t just trying to save all the beautiful women for himself. He had to hold back the sigh of disappointment that wanted to push itself from his chest. No sooner than you were seeming to muster up a response, the doors to the Embassy opened with a semi-loud bang.  The wood hitting the walls as a man wearing a flat cap, aviators, and a bright and all too loud flower patterned button up scanned the room.  Quickly marching over to the woman Javier was just speaking to, gripping at her upper arm tightly as he pulled her along.  “Apúrate, apúrate!”  He spoke, continuing to pull at her. Javier all but saw you cave in on yourself, his eyes watching over the scene in front of him as you deflated under the man's grasp and allowed him to pull you along.  The grip he’d held on you looked as though you were in a vice, and he watched as you looked back at him with apprehension and anxiety written all over your face. All he wanted to do was reach out to help, to tell this man to stop, but he didn’t know you like that.  Maybe this was something else, something between you and him.  It felt as though it would have been inappropriate to intervene. “See you tomorrow, Peña.”  You had said in barely above a whisper, as he saw you and this man disappear almost as fast as he’d arrived.  Yes, he didn’t do anything, he just stood and watched.  Even giving a small and pathetic wave as he’d watched you be removed from the office.  Yet, something was tugging at his brain, and he couldn’t get past it from the moment he’d seen the man he presumed was your groom-to-be.  Surely he’d seen enough shitty men in his life, yet he couldn’t shake the feeling. Why was he so fucking familiar?

[mf-st4rb0y]

💛♥️

[screentime-princess]

If I see one more comment saying something along the lines of 'stop thirsting over cops in a cop show, they were/are bad people' (for context comment was about narcos). Like babe, I know and I'm not thirsting for cops in a cop show, I'm thirsting for Boyd Holbrook and Pedro Pascal with porn stash! Oh my God. It's not that deep.

[03hrs]

pedro pascal as javier peña

[azertyrobaz]

A Peña mood

[chronically-ghosted]

Dry Run

rating: T

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

word count: 1513

summary: you meet javi in a club and he shows you his favorite way to foreplay sex.

warnings: no smut, no y/n, this isn't explicit but outrageously horny, naughty language and bad touching in public, slutty dancing

a/n: @ravensmadreads reminded me that the songs "Gasolina" and "Rompe" exist and then forced me at gun point to write this drabble. no one talks about what a good dancer javi would be and i've had enough!

🤍Masterlist

It started simple enough. 

A smile at the bar. The tang of tequila and the sour bite of a lime. A touch against your thigh to see if you are easily startled. He has to lean in close to ask if he can buy you your next drink, the deep rub of his voice only audible above the pound and hum of the music when his lips brush the shell of your ear.  

Then you tug him by that linen shirt, the tails already creeping out of the waistband of his jeans as if in anticipation of what comes next. His damp throat visible through the shamelessly undone collar, you wonder if he barely dresses himself because he knows some woman will just tear him naked again. His breath smells smoky, rich, like the mezcal he’s been sipping on, his broad chest warm under your palm as he now herds you onto the dance floor. There’s a grin on his face, a dark fire in his eyes that tells you he likes to play with his food, that this is nothing more than foreplay to him. Practice before the test. A dry run. 

He wants you to know exactly where you liked to be touched before you bring him home, to surprise and bewitch you as if he had known those places all along. 

But you’re not so easily convinced. Not so easily made dumb by slim hips and wide palms. He wants to dance, you want bailar. 

It starts simple enough. His head hung low, teasing grin on his face, he encourages your arms around his neck. You feel his hair stick to your forehead as he leans in rough palms easing down over your wrists, your elbows, your shoulders, then steadying against your hips. He moves like many men in this country do, with the self-assuredness that the music listens to him and not the other way around. He’s light on his feet, cowboy boots taking two steps forward, one step back, and you wonder what kind of a job he has. What kind of a man he is, that he can dance like this but his palms are so rough. You wonder how he would dance if he didn’t have plans of fucking  you in the club’s bathroom. His hands rest lightly on your hips, hardly respectable but a little possessive, a promise and a warning that you are going to only dance with him tonight. 

You watch his eyes flick down to your chest only a few times. 

But then the music changes, the crowd drunk and eager for something stronger than seduction. The bachata gives way to music not about love but lust, its desirable twin. It’s faster, something more metallic and driven. 

The hands on your hips tighten and the pulse in your wrists quickens. It comes as no surprise that this stranger, this man can easily handle the switch – the slide into something that demands a change of pace, the roll of the hips instead of a sway. 

He is never rough and never grips too tight. His hands glide up to the arch of your back, hot and rolling like candle wax, as he suggests silently that you come closer, that you let him feel only what you’ve been showing. You go willingly, curious and painfully turned on. What is he capable of? What can he do to you? What would you let him do to you?

His feet widen apart and you slot in like you’re supposed to. He seems surprised by it, as if every move you’ve made towards him all night hasn’t been bold, hasn’t explicitly told him what you want. His arm now up around the low dip of your ribs, the thumb on the other hand brushes under your lip. He won’t kiss you, you don’t kiss to this music, but you see he wants to breathe you in, wants to make your air his. 

“Hermosa,” he murmurs, everything about him from his hair, to his mustache, eyes and eyebrows dark and heavy. “Que hermosa.” 

You don’t realize you’re pinned to his chest until his arm has nowhere to go, trapped between you two. So he doesn’t move it. He cups the back of your neck, fingers pressing into the damp lining of your hair above the knot of your spine. This isn’t what he expected to happen and neither did you. His belt buckle digs into your hips and you can’t resist pushing into that cold pinch. His nostrils flare, eyes searching, breath short. Sweat drips over his left eye and you half-bite, half-kiss the spot on his forehead, tongue printing on his skin. 

You feel more than hear the groan in his chest. 

The music changes again, the lights spinning and dropping in the low beats. In the half-dark, he tugs your elbows from around his head, finger rubbing over the lining of your panties over your dress, and he turns you, barely allowing an inch of space between you. 

You feel his breath on your neck before those wide palms curl around you, that hot, damp chest curl around you, and he’s dragged you against him, all without missing the flow of the music. You moan when his hard cock, confined by the seam of his jeans, spreads your ass cheeks apart and you drop your head onto his shoulder. His fingers twist the hem of your dress but don’t move it. The bareness of your skin is for him alone, in private, in the half-darkness. Instead, he palms the hand pressing into your thigh, your legs screaming from the constant movement, and brings it up to your chest, his fingers intertwining with yours. He nudges your jaw with his nose, breath heavy against your ear. 

He likes to fuck like this too, you realize.

His hips flow and buck with the music, yours nestled as tight as you can without him physically being inside you. You purposefully fall out of sync for a fraction of a second, your ass grindings against where he is so deliciously hard and he grunts. He drops his head, tongue then teeth digging into the muscle between your shoulder and your neck. You intentionally rub against him again, in the opposite direction, and his other hand again overtakes yours, threading his fingers and yours together, and wraps your arm around your ribs, his own like a hot steel bar across you. 

You toss your head back, gasping for air before you are pulled back under. 

Wrapped around you, he fucks you without penetration, the music a whispered instruction to the pace of his hips. You turn your head and bite his ear, making him groan deep, the metal teeth of his jeans imprinting their shape onto your ass. His eyes closed, his fingers dig into your palms. Hot, humid air puffs from his wet mouth over your shoulder, into the curl of your neck. Your skin beneath your wet hair twitches with sudden goosebumps. 

You realize, in a daze, he’s muttering the filthy lyrics to you, smearing promises into your skin long before you can reciprocate that pleasure. You push back against him, a reward, and this time, he purposefully rubs against you, against the music, his hand over yours dropping to your abdomen, just where your panties sit under your dress. He cups you as if he could mount you –  drive you under him, and eat you out on his knees.

On the next flash of light, the drop of the beat, you slide your hand out from under him and wind up into his hair. His free forearm binds you just under your tits, keeping you against his grinds, his sweat-damp body, so you curl your fingers into his hair and yank. His head drops back as he pants from the sharp spike of pleasure and pain. 

His heartbeat is the same as the bass, you think. Maybe yours too, the heat of his chest felt all the way down your spine. 

He is minutes away from unwinding himself from you, from flushing you cold without the fervor of his body, your own drenched in sweat, only to all but drag you into the nearest bathroom, shove your panties down to your knees and actually, properly fuck you until you have bruises and beg him for more. But not yet. 

There’s an intimacy in dancing like this. A familiarity that is too often rapidly lost and gained in the physicality of later acts. 

You think deliriously that all couples should have to dance like this before going out or even hooking up. Because this, this chemistry, this natural heat and rhythm, can so often provide honesty that can rarely be spoken about so early. This, this dancing, asks, “are you going to fuck me like I need it?”

Yes, his body proves as his strong, thick thighs cage you even further into him, yes, he can. 

He will fuck you. He will, he promises every time he makes you squeeze yourself with his hands. 

But not yet. 

Not yet. 

[hausofmamadas]

| To live and leave fast |

⁂

Pairing: Andrea Nuñez x Horacio Carrillo

For @narcosfandomdiscord NarcOctober - Day 16 (+ a bit of Day 15 tbh)

Prompt: Day of Surprises (+ a smidge of Day of Absolute Filth) - create a fanwork that focuses on dreams (+ a smidge of character's moral corruption)

Word count: ≈ 2.3K

TWs: Canon-consistent violence, Real Big Sad, angst with some smoochin'

What was he doing here? He couldn’t answer her. The blankness of before was all he could conjure up and that vast emptiness set him on the edge of panic. okay sjsjs the way I told myself that I was gonna stop at 800 words and it becamekfjs this. So again, imsorryforeverything but uhh yea, I barely proofread this so the Spanish is prolly rough and so is everything else but hey! We can just blame it on it’s all a dream, right ….? Right??? Anyway, enjoy some shockingly non-antagonistic and sometimes tender back-and-forth btwn these two and probably the most ooc Carrillo to ever exist bc I’ve never written for him before. Idk why I’m so obsessed with this crackship but I am and it is what it is

⁂

Her voice rang out, “So, tell me. How long do you really think you can go on like this?” almost in time with the flashing red light that cut through the half-broken blinds, filling the dank, dingy room.

Carrillo tried sitting forward from where he must’ve fallen asleep slumped against something, presumably the wall of someone’s living room. No, not someone’s living room. No one’s living room. Because the place was a mess, covered in old takeout wrappers from Tijuana’s finest dining establishments, broken glass, cobwebs, and dust that would’ve been more befitting of an ancient tomb than this place. The smell of vodka or maybe rubbing alcohol burned his nose but he couldn’t pinpoint where it might’ve been coming from.

Was he even still in Tijuana? Huh. Well, that would have to wait till later. Anyway, he didn’t need to know what city he was in to know he was in an abandoned safe house. Which narco faction it belonged to didn’t make a difference. This one had to have been empty for at least a month, probably more, judging by the disarray. That and the insect activity. From Escobar to El Señor de los Cielos, the pace of the narco-lifestyle only lent itself to living and leaving fast, and whatever got left behind was usually beside the point.

Okay, but how’d he get here.

Maybe if he asked her, she’d stop looking right through him from where she stood across the room, arms crossed, leaning back against a mostly empty bookshelf that housed a few old books, some technical manual for car engines, and what looked like some old issues of Penthouse or some other stag magazine. High brow reading. He wondered if sicarios knew how much of a cliche they all were. Just once he’d like to meet one who enjoyed basketweaving, or birdwatching, or who was sentimental about their girlfriend. Anything that broke type. Then again, when it came to breaking type, he wasn’t in the best position to judge.

“Ay, por favooor, cabrón.” Startled, he jerked forward at the sound of her voice. “Remember when I told you that you were straight out of Central Casting for a war movie?” Clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth, she scoffed, “Who are you to talk about breaking type, hombre?”

What the hell. How’d she– He didn’t– Or, had he— Was he talking out loud this whole time?

He sat up straighter and a pain lit up his right side, going from dull to blinding. Hands already at the damp spot on his shirt, trying not to scream, he could tell the wound there was bleeding more now from the pressure of sitting up. Wait no, that was good. Actually, he could use that. Inhaling with the strength of his whole body, he pressed his fingers down, jamming them into the wound, and let the pain accumulate in his chest and ribcage, then exhaled, hoping his breath would send the sensation up further to his face, his forehead, activate the muscles there to share the load of his heavy eyelids.

He didn’t think he was talking out loud, but then, he must’ve been since she’d answered. That meant something, he knew. He couldn’t focus though. Why couldn’t he focus? What’d it mean? Oh right, blood loss. It was worse than he realized. But why wasn’t she helping him? No matter how furious she was with him, that wouldn’t have been like her, standing there while he bled out.

“Ay pinshe Carrillo, no seas mamón. I was helping but you fought me the minute I started trying to clean the thing. And then,” brows knit in his favorite it-is-what-it-is position, she pointed to a puddle by his feet, “you knocked the bottle out of my hands,” then shrugged, looking around the room absently. “And vodka was the only thing I could find in this place that even comes close to sanitary. So, I had to wait for you calm down or pass out before I could do anything.”

He had no memory of that. In fact, he had no memory of anything before that dingy little room. Which was weird. He’d been hit in the head enough times that lapses in memory weren’t an altogether foreign experience, but usually he could remember something from before. Sometimes it might be hours before whatever disaster, but he at least remembered. Now, it was just blank. It occurred to him that he might be–

“–and you might be in shock,” she finished aloud.

Jesus, was he saying everything he was thinking? He watched her and waited, seeing if she’d answer more questions in his head.

That light outside kept flashing, bathing the room in a deep shade of red that danced off the broken glass, creating macabre shadows that skittered up the walls, across the floor, the ceiling. Through the blinds too, it cast alternating stripes of red and black on her face. It would’ve been beautiful if it wasn’t so sinister-looking. Well no, it made her more stunning, in a haunting, alien way, even though she looked how she usually did: hair messily pulled back, a few strands hanging in her face, wearing a tank-top and that button-up he’d found at the Salvation Army in San Ysidro. He couldn’t focus. That’s right, he’d gone to drop off some old dining chairs he had no use for, caught it out of the corner of his eye hanging with the rest of the men’s button-ups. And instantly thought of her. Why couldn’t he focus. The pain finally reached his eyes.

Again, she answered his thoughts. “Well, as much as I wanted to fight you for fighting me,” she looked down, pinching the collar of the shirt and wiggling it back and forth like a dollar bill, “I didn’t get far enough in the process of dressing your wound to ruin it. And it is one of my favorites. I have to give it to you, tigre. Your attention to detail is the stuff of legend, and they were not wrong.”

At that, he smiled tiredly. She rocked forward, kicking off the bookshelf, and strode over to him, bits of glass crunching under the gummy, rubber souls of her boots. Doc Martens. So practical. They really were, the two of them, the same sometimes.

“Andrea,” her name came out in a whisper and a wince as he clutched at his side. He looked down in a daze that no matter how many times he blinked, how wide he forced his eyes open, he couldn’t shake. “How’d th– what happened? What are you doing here? How’d you– ,” he grunted, shifting his weight to his good side, “mm– get here?”

“Te he seguido, obvio.”

What? She follo– he hadn’t even briefed anyone on the raid at Agua Caliente until right before. Trujillo would never. Walt? No, after the debacle in Juarez, he was too wrapped up needing this win to jeopardize it by talking to a reporter. Even one as dogged and persistent as Andrea. And yes, she was resourceful. But resourceful, not psychic.

It felt like a lifetime of sitting there trying put it all together and he didn’t remember when she’d started making her way towards him, but she was already kneeling next to him now, slowly removing his hands from his side. Her eyes and forehead pinched in such a way that would’ve amplified his concern if he weren’t so out of it.

Her fingers felt cold around his neck. “Árre, we need to get this off,” she said, unbuttoning the collar of his uniform.

He was alarmed when his hands brushed hers and he saw they were covered in some dark substance. Oh, blood. Strange, it looked pitch black in this light. Andrea continued working her way down, pulling each button gingerly, so as not to hurt him more. The closer she got to his stomach, the more her hands began to resemble his, covered in black.

“Dale, mija. ¿Me vas a explicar lo que haces aquí ya o qué?”

He wanted to rub his thumb across her lip as it curled up in a smug smile. “Why? Should I not be here? You want me to leave? Sure,” she craned her neck around, and called out into the empty room, “I’ll just be on my way then and let someone in this massive crowd of eager, good samaritans help you.”

He chuckled thinly. When she faced back to him, she began untucking his shirt as delicately as possible. It hurt like a sonofabitch but it was going to hurt no matter what they did, so he softened the corners of his eyes, trying not to make her feel bad.

She continued. “The better question I think is, what are you doing here?”

Once he was free from his dress shirt, she grabbed both sides of the hole in the white shirt underneath and tore it wider to get a better look at the wound. Blood leaked out in streams down his stomach to his waist. It appeared to be a large gash from some kind of shrapnel. Much too jagged for a knife. The harsh sound of air through her teeth was a good indicator of what kind of shape he was in.

Alright so, shrapnel. But he couldn’t remember an explosion and there was no evidence of one having happened there in the room. What was he doing here? He couldn’t answer her. The blankness of before was all he could conjure up and that vast emptiness set him on the edge of panic.

He’d been doing a passable job not reacting too viscerally with his face, but when she started rifling through his pockets on either side, he grimaced, growling, “Ay, Andrea! Qué coño estás haciendo, porfavor.”

Paying him no mind, she held out her hand like a surgeon waiting for a scalpel. “Knife.”

He jutted his chin toward his feet. Spotting the shiny silver clip, she grabbed the knife from his boot, flicked it out, and made an incision in the hem of his uniform shirt. Catching the free section in her teeth, she tore down the length of the initial incision, and started packing the vodka-soaked gauze that she’d managed to hold onto after his freakout onto the wound and tying it with the strips of cloth cut from the shirt. When she pulled hard, securing the final knot, he nearly keeled over.

“Aycarajoperdónperdónperdóname,” she said, catching him by the shoulders.

She stayed there, acting as his scaffolding until the pain subsided. He lifted his chin to rest his forehead against hers and catch his breath. Just in her wanting to help him, the assurance of her fingertips against his shoulders, he felt her helping him. He couldn’t remember a time he was so grateful for another human being. Grateful in the way only she could make him feel. 

Speaking half to her and half to the ground, he tried putting the pieces together, “I don’t know what I’m doing here. For some reason–“ but lost the words when he’d barely gotten started.

“What?”

“I don’t know. It’s– I have this strange– I have a feeling we’ve always been here. And will … always be here.”

Andrea nodded, eyes closed, like she knew exactly what he was talking about. It might feel like a trap if they didn’t have each other. She was always more than enough.

After a beat of silence, she pulled back and looked at him sadly, like she knew something he didn’t. Which was odd given what she asked next. “Horacio, por favor, necesito saberlo. Why? Why did you do it?”

Why’d he do it? Why’d he do, what?

“I know it’s in there, I know you remember. You have to, or you’ll never make it out of here.”

He shook his head, squinting his eyes, confused and cranky like a kid prematurely woken up from a nap. “Make it out? I’m not gonna make it out. Not unless you help me. Look at–“ he motioned to his side, “Ni siquiera puedo andar, mija.”

“Yes, you can,” she insisted calmly, her eyes full of an inexplicable mix of hope and resignation.

What did she know that he didn’t?

“I don’t know anything you don’t know. You just don’t want to know it. But you have to try, tigre. Eso es la única manera de vengarte a él. No more cutting corners. No more deals with the devil. Eres mejor que eso, ya lo sabes.”

The devil. The devil. The flashing red light. Deals. Deals with the devil.

Ah. Calderoni. That. That fucking deal.

His own C.I.s in exchange for Calderoni’s intel on Agua Caliente, el Hipódromo, Carlos Hank Gonzalez. A bigger fish than the Arellanos. Even though he knew exactly what the family would do to the informants. They’d have to stop building bridges in Mexico to hang people from. He showed up in Tijuana to clean up Rebollo’s mess and gone ahead and made his own.

Still, she was never part of the deal. But he could guess how that happened. In some boardroom meeting he conveniently wasn’t present for, somehow “journalist” and “informant” got conflated. They were wise not to include him. Not only would he not have agreed, he would’ve ensured not a single one of them made it out of there on two feet and breathing.

So, is this what it’s like watching the boulder come crashing down the mountain for the hundredth? Thousandth? Millionth time?

Carrillo’s face fell with understanding. “But I can’t lose you.”

“Sí, pero lo tienes que hacer. You have work to do. Because I love you. And you love me. And you owe me. And,” she rolled her tongue along the inside of her cheek, and then flashed a dangerous smile, “I want you to burn the whole motherfucking thing to the ground.”

Then, cradling the back of his neck with both hands, she leaned in, lips christening him on the forehead, each of his eyelids, the tip of his nose, coming to a close at his own. There was a finality to the kiss that made him dig in deeper as if he could hold her here without lifting a finger, an urgency she returned so fiercely, when they broke away both their lips were swollen and flushed. Not without passion, but it wasn’t carnal so much as the pure desperation of goodbye.

“Going after those pinshe shingamadres is the least you can do.” He hadn’t even registered tears at his eyes until she brushed one with her thumb that had escaped down onto his cheekbone and mused, “After all, you are the reason I’m dead.”

∴

Slapped with a blast of air, his whole body jolted back to life, as he came to in a cold sweat, ceiling fan taunting him from above while he gasped for air and shivered against the damp sheets. He was so used to waking up violently like this, it didn’t even scare him anymore. Confused him a little, maybe. But reassurance was quick to follow and his breathing slowed as he relaxed, because ah, yes, he knew how to deal with the nightmares now.

Like clockwork, he reached for his life preserver, turning and throwing his arm over to the other side of the bed, expecting to feel the warmth of her back, her shoulders, hear her steady breathing next to him. But his hand sailed straight through empty air and landed on the cold, vacant spot of the mattress instead.

He almost doubled over. Pain unlike anything.

Worse than when Trujillo first delivered the news to him in his office. Much worse. The perpetual renewal of shock that this was real and the place in that dingy room in his head was not, only sharpened the blow each time. But he deserved to be wounded and wounded like this over and over again. After all, he was responsible, she was right about that.

She wasn’t here to help him with the nightmares anymore. Now, she only lived in his.

═

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[pvnkesttt]

joel miler/athena kallis/javier peña + physical touch - poly!katipō. tlou-verse: a masterlist.

[ourautumn86]

here.

javier peña x fem! reader

synopsis; Javier and you simply fucked when his job took the best of him, to blow up some steam. You were nothing, just really close friends…, right? Maybe the thought of loosing you ‘causes him to finally open up.

warnings; +18 content, minors don’t interact!, arms, guns, mentions of death and terrorism, unprotected sex (GUYD STDS ARE REAL, WRAP THE DONG UP), piv sex, oral sex (f! receiving), kid of rough/desperate sex, cursing, nipple play, fingering, dirty talking, praising, a little bit of angst with fluff at the end, cursing, cream pie, no use of y/n! use of pet names and spanish from Javi<3!

a/n: please remember that english is not my first language! tell me if there are any gramatical errors. hope y’all love it!<3

Javi was a really close friend… And when you meant really, you truly meant it.

You two had gotten to know each other while sharing an office on the police department, and one night that things had wrong and had come to you staying working late, he had touched you in need of a distraction, in need of someone that could understand. And you could understand.

That’s why you let him use you, fuck away senseless his pain, his frustration, his rage…

He fucked into you like you were the only thing left for him to tug on. Kissed you like you were the only bits of oxygen left in the world.

And after that… His need for you became more frequently to this day.

It was late at night when you heard an stressful knocking coming from your door. You rubbed your eyes open, a frown showing on your face when your eyes landed on the clock beside you on the night table. 3:20 AM.

The new knocking had you pulling yourself to your feet, hissing at the cold that stung your feet.

You quickly went to the door, opening it when the knocking only got more intense. You had your gun on your right hand, ready to shoot in case of need.

The gun met the forehead of whoever had woken you up, your hands quickly pushing it away when you met your co-worker’s and leaving it aside.

“Javi?” you called out to him with a confused look. “What are you doing here? Are you okay?” he seemed out of breath, body glistening in the softest sweat. “Ja-“

And as you were about to inquire him once again, he plunged into your home, his warm calloused hands cupping your face to bring you into a searing kiss that had you gasping into his mouth.

You whimpered when he closed the door behind him and quickly pushed you to the wall on your right, his hands roaming your body with the urgency that always came in this situations: He had had a bad day. Maybe a bad week. The thing with Escobar was getting really hard; the bombing, the loss, the deaths, the fear…

Your fingers laced on his hair, and he hummed, thanking you, when you opened your mouth for him.

His hands cupped your breasts from under your silk night gown, letting the lace of your panties show for his angry eyes. Your moaning was angelic.

“Joder.” he had you over his shoulder in less than a second, throwing you onto your bed, making the head broad dent the wall.

“Javi…” you moaned when his lips latched to your neck, his hands back to your tits and his hardened clothed cock pushing against your cunt.

You helped him get rid of your gown, leaving you almost completely exposed to his hungry eyes. His lips sucked on your nipples as one of his hands came down in between your bodies to cup your pussy, a wet patch growing on your panties under his fingertips. You screamed when he pushed the panties aside to let show your beautiful and puffy soaked lips only of him. “Fuck, darling, you’re so wet already…” he muttered against your chest as his fingers dipped and found your clit, making your head fall back and a pornographic moan to leave your lips. “Such a good girl getting all ready for me to fuck, hm?” you nodded, his touch electrifying. “Look at that. She’s swallowing my fingers…” your walls clenched around two of his fingers when he plunged them inside, making your back curl. It was always a stretch, but nowhere like the feeling of his cock fucking you open. “You’re so beautiful baby.” you cheeks reddened at the compliment, a whimper leaving your lips when his kisses trailed down your stomach, a peck being given to the patch of hair on your mound. “Smell so sweet…” your eyes glistened when you saw him take his two fingers inside his mouth, tongue lapping at your juices and making him hum. “Taste so good too. You drive me insane.” you hands flew to his hair when he dove in, sucking on your clit as his fingers started to fuck into you again.

“Fuck, Javi!” he smirked against your cunt when his fingers found that perfect spot hidden in between your gummy walls, his fingers curling in a relentless peace, that has you falling apart under his touch. “Please don’t stop…” you begged, and the hand clutching your right high squeezed your flesh in an assuring way that told you that he wouldn’t.

He couldn’t. Not when you tastes so good and sounded so angelical. Not when he needed you so bad.

It only took a few laps at your clit to had you gushing and coming onto his mouth, making him groan. You moaned as he worked you through it, telling you how perfect you were and how good you were being for him.

When his lips met yours, your tongue tasted your orgasm off his mouth, the kiss sloppy, hungry and needy, spit dribbling down your bottom lip and onto your chin. You were quick to help him get rid of his polo, pants and underwear, freeing his aching cock.

No matter how many times you had seen him it was always a shock to see how big and thick he was, always a stretch to take him when he would part your lips with his bedded head and pushed inside. You always remembered how he had fucked you for the first time, how he had had you sobbing against the table as he whispered a soft ‘Come on, you can take it. Relax for me, that’s it, atta girl.’ against your neck.

You were even quicker to flop on your stomach, your ass up and pussy ready for him to fuck into, since that was how Javier always fucked you, on your fours.

“What are you doing?” he questioned and you frowned as your head tilted backwards.

“Getting ready…?” you send back in the same unsure tone, a squeal leaving your throat when his big strong arms took you to push you down onto your back once again.

“Not tonight, amor. Tonight I need to see you.” he muttered, and before you could open your mouth to inquire him, he was pushing inside.

You cried out at the feeling, the sting of pain that came with pleasure making you reach out for his back, your nails digging on his skin.

He grunted as he slowly pushed more of him inside your tight walls. “That’s it, baby, open up for me.” he whispered onto your ear when your walls started to relax around him and suck him in.

You both moaned when he finally bottomed out, hitting that deep spot that him and only him had ever reached.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good, honey, so fucking good…” he muttered as his hips started to snap into you, making your nails go in deeper. “Always so good for me, so pretty… Fuck, fuck,fuck…”

Your whimpers and moans got cut out with every each of his now harsh and quick thrust. You could feel it, feel it in the way he kisses you, in the way he fucked you into the mattress, how there was no space left in between the two of you, how his hands gripped and bruised your hips as he brought you impossibly closer to him…

Don’t leave. That’s what he was trying to say. Don’t die. I need you. Don’t leave.

“I’m here, Javi. I’m here…” you cried out as he fucked into you, tears breaming your eyes at the intensity of your now incoming orgasm. He pushed deeper at your promise. ‘Cause it was a promise.

“Fuck.” he groaned when your walls started to milk him, a scream falling of your lips as he hit your g spot relentlessly. You were dizzy on it, drunk on his skin and his cologne, high on his kisses and his thrusting. “Looking so pretty. Shit.”

“Javi, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum!” you sobbed and he only sped up, one of his hands moving to roll your clit in between his fingers.

“Come for me, mi amor, come for me.” your ears rang and your vision went white when your new orgasm came crushing down on you, making you scream out his name for the neighbors to hear. “Look at you. Eres mía mi amor. All mine.” “Fuck, you’re getting so tight…” he grunted against your neck as he made a mark there. “Gonna milk me dry…” he fucked you through it, his dick getting coated by your white release, which now painted the brush of hair on the base of his cock. “Gonna cum, baby, fuck.”

“Inside Javi, please…” you begged, and he was quick to paint your walls with his cum, making your eyes roll back at the feeling. You loved it. Loved it when he would come inside, make you his. Mark you as his from the inside out.

You two stood there, riding out your own respective highs in between each others arms. But you knew it wouldn’t last. ‘Cause it never did.

Tears stung your eyes when he slid out of you, making you hiss at the overstimulation. You knew what came next. He would get up, get his clothes and leave without even saying goodbye ‘till the next time he’d come to you, only for it to happen all over again.

You gave him your back, ‘cause you didn’t want to see. And didn’t want him to see you too, crying your heart out after every night he’d fuck you senseless and hugging yourself at the cold that his skin left behind.

But your breath hitched when after the shuffling of clothes, the bed sank under his weight behind you, and your heart stopped when one of his arms surrounded your waist to pull you closer and against his chest.

It was completely silent in between the two of you, only the sound of cars passing by and both your steady breathing filling the silence of the room.

You slowly tuned around in between his arms, his eyes finding yours under the dim light of your salt lamp.

He left a soft and gentle kiss on your forehead, which made your heart flutter and eyes close. You didn’t understand. He had never been like this. He had never fucked you on your back, facing him, never even stayed after it. So what was going on?

You noticed he hadn’t gotten dressed, he had just folded everything back onto the chair of your vanity so tomorrow neither of you would trip on it. Your eyes swelled in tears as you looked at him. And that’s when you saw it, in his eyes. This longing, this love that he has never let himself show you, never letting you look into his eyes as he fucked you, even less as he left you in the middle of the night.

“I’m here, amor. I’m here.” he promised back with a soft smile.

You quickly leaned into the kiss that now his lips planted on your own. It was sweet, slow. A kind of kiss that talked when words weren’t enough. Your hands found his hair and his your hips, bringing you closer, hugging you to his chest. His skin was warm, his body the missing piece of yours.

You let him hold you, let him look into your eyes and pour all the words that he never found himself to mutter on your heart. Let him kiss you, let him mark you, and let him fuck himself back into you once again when he had rose one of your legs over his hips, making you fall apart in between his arms as he whispered beautiful words into the night until the sunrise.

-

hope y’all liked it, love you xx

xxx

[xxhypersomnia]

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[joexxedits]

Ok Goodnight ❤️