#perfumes colombia

[soluniversal]

Perfume Prestige Athom | Phantom Paco Rabanne

La energia energía revitalizante del limon se funde con una adictiva lavanda ultra cremosa y una sensual vainilla amaderada. Radicalmente diferente, totalmente revolucionaria Inspirado enPhantomAromaCitrico AromáticoContenido100 mlCasaPrestigeAlto13 cmLargo8 cmAncho5 cmDescripción $ 60.000 📲 ¡Envíanos un mensaje para confirmar la disponibilidad! Compra a través de WhatsApp Medios de…

[lorenscolombia]

¡Feliz Día del Padre! 🎉👔 Este año, dale a papá un regalo que realmente disfrutará: su fragancia favorita con hasta un 70% de descuento. 🌟🕺 Encuentra perfumes originales de las mejores marcas solo para él. ¡Haz su día especial con un aroma inolvidable!

[livwarmth]

🌟Path to Daily Joyful Life

Embrace self-love, it transforms.

Breathe, trust, let life unfold.

Quiet strength, silent resolve, persevere.

Cultivate inner peace, thrive endlessly.

Trust your inner beauty.

Free gift inside, tap here today!🎁

[jolapeno]

come away with me and we'll kiss

javier peña x f!reader | one shot from late night texts world

you don't need to have read the series, but it helps - this one shot is set during the epilogue 🩷 chapter warnings: a photo booth, two idiots, javi realising how much he loves you, while also unable to keep his hands to himself. illusions and briefest of mentions of smut, but no actual ✨ wordcount: 1.9k.

an: BONUS CHAPTER. this wasn't planned at all but i saw @babyispunk's insanely amazing photo booth pic for Javi, and i had to write this little ode to it (hope you do not mind, lovely) biggest thanks to @guyfieriii who not only held my hand with this but also chose the title. ily.

text key: bold is you/reader | italics is javi

don’t forget tomorrow im taking you out for the day

You sure you told me this? 

good job I reminded you then

Javi, I am pretty sure I’d have remembered this. Are you sure you told me?

positive 

Javi hadn’t told you. 

The idea only came to him that week. You all curled up against him, asleep—your fingers on his chest—his hand placed right over yours. 

The minutes had been ticking down until his alarm would do its usual thing of disturbing the morning. Interrupting the time he got to just be, when he could lie here with your weight and warmth against him. 

That’s when his eyes landed on the photo frame with the photo strip, sitting on top, in the centre of the drawers the two of you now share. The strip of four photos captured from that week. 

For the past week, he’d thought of nothing but your two’s fast-approaching first anniversary. That week which had changed his life, the one where he’d had a taste of the life he lives now. 

From speaking to some of the people in town, it hadn’t taken much effort to learn where the closest one was. It all aligned, everything falling perfectly into place—all working out. 

On the morning of it all, the day even began the same as it had done when the two of you were in that hotel room. The tips of his fingers strumming up and down your back, your chest flush with his—all tangled in his arms, sheets barely keeping in place as your lips kissed the air with his name, the sound of yours leaving his mouth coated in grunts and hisses. 

It deviated after. The two of you shared a shower, with you sneaking out of the bathroom undetected to get dressed, leaving him to enact the next part of his plan: wearing the pink shirt. 

Stealing it back from your things had taken planning—discreet misdirections, his former skills in the DEA coming into use. He was just grateful it still fastened because even if he did more physical work now than he used to, Javi still wasn’t DEA fit. He was happy, for one—secondly, home-cooked meals were more a norm now than when he was over in Colombia. 

You said nothing if you thought anything when he met you on the porch. Not even when the two of you hit the road, hands smoothing down your dress as you turn the radio, focused, eyes glued, and head slightly tilted.

Fuck, you were gorgeous.

You always were. Always have been. Even way before, when all he had of you was words on his phone screen, you have been amazing to him. 

“So, whatcha’ thinking about?” you say, leaning back as the radio hums—the plucking of a guitar filling the journey as you look at him. 

Taking his hand from the wheel, he placed it on your knee—bare skin meeting his palm. “That I’m looking forward to taking you out of this dress when we get back.”

“No, you weren’t, you tease.”

He snorts, squeezing your knee. “Trust me, cariño. Most, if not all of the time, I am thinking about how I can get you out of your clothing.”

Your laugh fills the vehicle, feeling your eyes on him as the two of you pass the sign welcoming you into the city. 

“Think you need a hobby if you’ve got time for all that thinking, baby.”

“I’m busy enough.”  

Humming, he smiles as you rest your head on him. The scent of your perfume hitting his nose, recognising it instantly—the one he bought you, wrist tilted to his nose in the shop as you sprayed bottle after bottle until you landed on this one. 

The one, as you said, made his eyes widen. It wasn’t the only body reaction the scent now made happen. Least of all, when your hand was on his thigh, fingers sliding up and down his dark-wash jeans. 

“Te ves muy guapo, Javi—even in my shirt.” 

Snorting, he looked at you, finding your eyes already on him, waiting, a smirk slid up into your cheek that made it near impossible not to pull you close and kiss you. But he’d have time.

Plenty of it. 

Thankful he recognised the sign for the place he needed, when you were still none the wiser. Your brain not even catching on when he pulled into the arcade parking lot, your face still looking up at him, peering—studying every inch of him, as though you never get the chance to. Not that he could complain, he does the same whenever he gets the chance, too. 

By the time he’d come to let you out your side of the truck, your door was already open—smoothing down your summer dress. Taking your hand in his. “So, let me explain.” 

“You found us a photo booth.” 

Looping his fingers through, tightening his hold, he pressed a kiss to your cheek—both for being too fucking smart and also because fuck, you got him. “I found us a photo booth, cariño. C’mon.” 

Hidden in the back, there it was. Tucked away, it’s interestingly the one place in the arcade relatively quiet of people. The red curtain open, your hand practically dragging him—even if it was he who planned it—before stopping at the doorway, turning to him. Before your mouth even opens, he knows what you’re going to say, his hand already digging in his pocket, pulling out the money he knew would be needed. 

“We should think of poses,” you say, sliding in next to him, as you draw the curtain. 

His eyes glanced, taking in how it was a floor-to-ceiling one—more discreet, private. Even if the sounds of bells, cheers and loud music still made their way through it to your two’s space. 

“Unless you just want to recreate the last one?”

Handing you the money, he wraps his arm around you, fingers on your waist. Needing you to be close as he suggests you kiss his cheek, something sweet, innocent. Your smile twitches before you nod, doing your thing with the money and hitting the button to get it going. 

It’s only when he feels you twist towards him, his fingers sliding the strap of your dress up, that he realises how amazing the last year has been, and yet, while he feels the same as when he first met you, he also feels so much more—more than he ever thought possible after all the things he’d done and seen. 

Because, even now, you still make his heart skip a beat as you move closer like that first week. Make his cheeks warm as your lips ghost over his cheek. 

He knows the seconds are ticking down, both all set in place as the booth counts down, but he can feel the edges of his mouth bucking under the happiness you provide, it almost making him want to grin.

And he does—just after the flash. 

Something rising in him, desperate to ignite. It explodes inside him like fireworks; the feeling is born from the ash of who he used to be, spreading itself through him to add more weight to the person he now feels he can be because of you. 

His gratitude for it being pressed to your lips as the plan for chosen poses goes out the window, twisting his own body, a sudden need flooding through him just to have you close, pressed against him. His fingers slid around the base of your neck, kissing you desperately, hungrily. 

Javi tastes the mint from brushing your teeth, the warmth of your breath—and even if he gets to kiss you all the time now, it still blows him away. Because it’s you—you and him. 

Your lips part, inviting him in closer as the softest whimper escapes as his thumb and index squeeze your neck, wrist flush with your collarbone, as he crashes his mouth to yours—slanting, swallowing whatever you’ll give him. Lost in it, how you feel against him, how your thighs have spread just for him. The flash illuminates the space, his smile growing, pressing another to you, and another. 

It becomes a dance, a sudden know of what to do as he moves again. 

Giving his back to the camera, Javi buries his face into your neck as he hears you whimper his name—blissed out at the feeling of your hand in his hair, pulling, tugging as his fingers snake under your dress. A laugh falling, more in disbelief than anything, a whispered ‘we shouldn’t’ that he’s quick to swallow. 

Because he should—the two of you should. 

He couldn’t think of something more beautiful, more perfect to be captured and framed in your two’s room than you coming undone for him. That thought cruises through him, blood pounding in his ears, as he brushes over soft, warm skin before his thumb presses over the lace between your legs, feeling the sudden growing wet patch spreading across your underwear. Your laugh stolen, thieved, all twisted into a moan that made his smile grow as he rolled the tip of his tongue over that spot on your neck. The one which he knows has your eyes all lust-blown, just as the flash explodes white around the two of you as you moan his name.

His. 

A sound he collects whenever he can. Bottles it. Stores it on a shelf inside of him that used to be empty. That could never be filled by any vice he had picked up, but now it is all easily full of you. The happiness you bring, the comfort, 

And he knows he has seconds—if that. 

Sliding up, shifting the fabric from between your legs as he feels it. He’ll never tire of it, the proof that you want him—over and over. Your fingers find his chin at the last second, lifting him to stare as his fingers coat themselves in how much you need him. 

You saying it, beating him to it. Robbing him of it—not that he cares.

“Happy one-year anniversary, baby.”

In a way, he wishes his back wasn’t to the camera as his hand slides back to resting on your thigh. Because now he suddenly wants the chance to see how he looks as he hears the words. Imagining it from the effect it has on him; how each letter coats him, heals him. 

Instead, he whispers them back. Enjoys a front-row seat to watching the impact they have on you, now just wishing the camera is good enough to capture the shimmer in your eyes, the look of adoration, the thinnest crease between your brows he knows he mirrors. 

Because it’s you, it’s him. 

The two of you frozen like that, a sea of other words silently being shared—your hand reaching up, cupping his cheek, thumb stroking his skin, just like you always do as the machine begins to churn, preparing and readying the photos for the two of you.

“Thank you for bringing us here,” you add, only when the machine quietens.

Nodding, he swallows. “You’re welcome. I… I didn’t know you were an exhibitionist, cariño.”

Your eyes narrow, lips pursing before you smirk. “If you were a smart man, you’d put more money into the machine and finish what you started.” 

Javi does.

Because of course he fucking does. 

Haphazardly stuffing what he can into it before he’s pulled by his collar, his lips crashing against yours. 

AN: Halloween one shot of this pairing will still be up on the 31st. I've just missed them so goddamn much.

[crumbledcastle28]

Javier Pena: Blowing Off Steam

Pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader (she/her; afab)

Summary: During one of the most important meetings of his career, Javier is relentlessly distracted by the drive over.

Excerpt: "That's the spot, isn't it hermosa?" he said into your ear. The smell of your sweat mixed with your perfume as well as the small groans you were releasing only spurred him on more. "Think you're in control, thought you had me."

Your eyes fluttered closed and your jaw began to tremble, digging your nails into his bulging biceps seemed to be the only thing giving you any sort of relief.

Neither of you heard the partition clicking shut.

He smiled at your state, kissing the crown of your head. "You do have me, cielo. But tonight I have you."

Warnings: making out, heavy touching, smutty smut smut, dirty talk, my attempt at Spanish, unestablished relationship, swearing, italicized=flashback/past, I am positive this doesn't actually work with canon, Javier is a simp.

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: I don't really know what to say besides I missed this with every part of me. Please enjoy this brain rot that has gotten me through the last three months.

If you would like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be much appreciated <3

Pedro Masterlist

General Masterlist

(gif from pinterest you cannot convince me that isn't a hickey on his neck bfibrifbiri)

Javier's taste buds were coated with a delightfully devilish mix of Cheval Blanc and red lipstick as he sucked in your heated breaths.

Your thighs fit so fucking perfectly in his hands as he gave them a squeeze. Your bare, sweaty skin squeaked against the leathered seats in response.

"Javi," you whined, and he shushed you gently. The streetlights passing by illuminated your smooth skin like music, and he was tempted to pull away only to stare at you.

Another whimper from your swollen mouth persuaded him against it.

He moved his teeth down your throat, pulling you impossibly closer to him. He could feel the heat of your core against him as you began to grind into him slightly, god did it make his lower stomach pulse.

He switched to the left side of your neck, pushing you against the car door ever so slightly as he cut his vision to the driver. The man's bald head had remained facing forward, his skin a deep tan. He figured limo drivers had to deal with this sort of bullshit all the time. A part of him enjoyed the fact that another man was learning just how liquid you were for him.

A bigger part of him fucking hated it.

It was this millisecond of inner turmoil that gave you the upper hand - pulling his mouth from your throat and bringing it to your own, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth, sliding your hand down his pants, tracing his happy trail as your fingers cupped him so fucking flawlessly -

"Agent?"

Javier sucked in a breath. His palms had practically soaked through the menu in his hands.

"Ye-yes?" he said, clearing his throat.

The Colonel scoffed. "Your head is not where your heart is, Peña."

"Fuck off," he whispered back, and stuck his nose back into the menu.

Carillo had called a meeting about a possible promotion for Javi, suggesting he was "too acquainted" with the night life of Colombia to be sitting at a desk all day. He felt Javi was needed on the ground, working within the system than around it. A true DEA agent, rather than a glorified secretary.

Hence whatever the fuck this dinner was.

Javi was surrounded by his superiors, men and women he had never seen nor met before, as well as what had to be hundreds of dollars in booze. The menu before him had words he had never even heard of before, as well as prices that seemed to stretch off the page if he unfocused his eyes.

He was the furthest out of his comfort zone that he could have ever imagined, while consecutively borderline emotional at the favor Carillo was doing for him. He was dealing with more emotions than he had allowed himself to in years.

You had looked too pretty that night not to blow off some steam.

-he could have come right then and there. He felt your smile against his lips as he jumped at the feeling, before practically melting into your hands. He could barely kiss you through his panting.

"Sensitive," you whispered as you dragged your teeth down his jawline, paying particular attention to the crease between his bone and his neck. The two of you had done this enough for you to know all his weak spots.

He gripped the fabric of your dress as you did before sliding his hands underneath it, resting his hands on your ribcage. You sighed at the feeling.

"I'm sensitive?" he whispered, moving his hands all the way up to cup your breasts. You tucked your face more into his neck as he did, but continued to trace his head and dick. This flipped the switch on him once again, chills etching themselves down his spine, and a renewed heat boiling his organs -

Javier came back to a woman whose name he had long forgotten asking him a question he absolutely did not hear.

But, he flashed his charming smile anyway.

"Yes ma'am," he said, and despite the woman's efforts, a faint blush crawled up her neck.

"And what makes you say that?" she said in reply.

He could feel Carillo's smile.

"Just a gut feeling," Javier said, and to his surprise, she smiled.

-that finally caused something in him to ignite. He felt out of body, watching himself as if from he was a fly on the ceiling remove his dominant hand from your breast and bring it between your legs. He only took a few seconds to enjoy the wetness that had culminated there before he teased your opening.

Your jaw fell open, giving him ample opportunity to stick his tongue down your throat as he finally fingered you up to the knuckle.

Your body convulsed against him, any and all air escaping your lungs the very second he began to pump in and out of you. It was messy, it was desperate, but god was it everything -

"And how exactly was that handled, Agent...." the man paused, before snapping his fingers in recognition. "Peña. Agent Peña."

Javier swallowed. "Well, we could never have pulled it off without the Colonel, as well as our other agents."

Javier had never spoken so out of his ass in his life.

"I was just a puzzle piece," he said before taking another sip of his bourbon.

The man appeared partially pleased, but unconvinced.

"And how exactly do you plan on being less of a puzzle piece going forward, Mr. Peña?" The man said this as he leaned forward in his chair, folding his hands onto the table.

Every eye at this goddamn table was on him, and for some reason, it made him think of you once again. The way you would whisper in his ear. Your unwillingness to appear afraid. You had told him once you couldn't afford to look afraid in a city like Bogotà.

"It's better to look stupid than afraid. It would eat me fucking alive," you had said.

He decided to take a page out of your book for once.

"I plan on being the person placing the pieces, sir," Javier said. "I can only do that by being more active in the streets. Fieldwork, groundwork, whatever you want to call it."

Javier leaned forward, mimicking the man's position almost exactly.

"How else can I see the full picture?" he asked.

The man's skin was as red as his wine, while his colleagues were as shined as gold.

-and more, prompting Javier to do what he seemed incapable to avoid doing whenever he was with you: lose complete control of his mouth.

"That's the spot, isn't it hermosa?" he said into your ear. The smell of your sweat mixed with your perfume as well as the small groans you were releasing only spurred him on more. "Think you're in control, thought you had me."

Your eyes fluttered closed and your jaw began to tremble, digging your nails into his bulging biceps seemed to be the only thing giving you any sort of relief.

Neither of you heard the partition clicking shut.

He smiled at your state, kissing the crown of your head. "You do have me, cielo. But tonight I have you."

You rocked up and down onto his fingers, whining into his ear as he used his middle finger to pump, and his thumb to caress your clit. He took the one he had around your neck down to your thigh, tracing the muscles, invigorating what you were already feeling between your thighs. It rose up and up to your breasts, forcing you to cup and play with them.

He smiled again, removing the hand from your thigh to bring it up to one of your breasts. He fondled one, while you fondled the other.

"Didn't know you could get this bothered from just my ha-"

"Shut the fuck up," you said and kissed him so hard your teeth clashed -

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Agent Peña," said the blushing woman from before. "I look forward to working with you in the future."

Javier was no dummy. He could very easily read between the lines of what she was implying. However, due to how much he could not get his mind off of you - despite the fact that he finally got the job he had been dreaming about since he was a little kid - he had a feeling that he would only disappoint.

"Thank you, ma'am," he said, and shook her hand firmly.

He said his goodbyes to his superiors before following Carillo outside the restaurant. The two men sat there, waiting for their individual limos to arrive.

Where the DEA got the money for shit like this, Javier had no idea.

Carillo patted Javier on the back in congratulations, which was more affection that Javier had ever seen the man give to his own wife, and Javier gave him a nod in return.

It was then that Carillo began to chuckle.

"Cual es tu problema?" Javier asked, slightly aggitated.

Carillo shook his head. "You could have at least attempted to hide your way of blowing off steam, Pena," he said, gesturing to his own neck.

Javier must have reddened, because Carillo only laughed harder.

-so hard he was shocked one didn't chip. The two of you stayed that way for some - grinding and kissing and pulling at each other - before the limo finally pulled up to his destination.

You pulled away from him as you felt the limo lurch into park. You looked behind him, eyes widening slightly at the sight of the restaurant Javier would be dining at. You then smiled at him, wiping at his face and his hair, as well as straightening out his lapel.

"You should have warned me," you said to him, "I would have gone easier."

He smiled. "No, you wouldn't."

You smiled back, giving him one last kiss. It was deep, but deep in a way that meant more than goodbye. He couldn't afford to look more into it than that.

"Good luck," you whispered, and he nodded before exiting the vehicle. He saw you wipe at your own face through the window, as well as give the driver your address.

He watched you drive away, his heart shifting from a delightful flutter to an anxious one.

He watched his limo pull up behind Carillo's, sucking in the last of the chilled night air.

"Good luck, Peña," Carillo said as he walked to his car, a slight slur in his voice from all the bourbon. "Go and fucking celebrate."

Javier grinned as he opened his limo's door, exhaling in relief at his prayers of having a different driver being answered. The driver didn't even turn around as he said in a thick Colombian accent, "Where to?"

Javier knew exactly where he was headed.

He was going to fucking celebrate.

Tag list: (if you would like to be added please let me know :)

@lovesbiggerthanpride @paintlavillered @xocalliexo @c4psicle @joelsflannel @thesmutslut @untitledarea @daphne-turner @queerponcho @leahkenobi

[jhypeach]

Anniversary at home, just us two

pairing: jaehyun x reader warnings: kitchen sex, fingering, breast play, smut word count: 1k+ an: part 2 of anniversary at Milan. SORRY it took me a while to post. if you haven't read anniversary at Milan, it's fine. This can be read separately.

5th anniversary came faster than expected, and today Jaehyun and I are celebrating it far from each other as the tour is still ongoing. Currently, they're in Colombia. This is something familiar to me, and I have been aware of Jaehyun's nature of work ever since our relationship started. And actually, it's totally fine with me. It's just Jaehyun is the one who has yet to get used to this.

He made sure that I would receive a bouquet of roses today and even called me three times just to apologize. He'll be home tomorrow, so we can still actually still celebrate it the next day. But then again, he feels bad for not celebrating it with me (we celebrated our anniversary far from each other two times already). It was starting to annoy me; hence I ignored all of his messages full of apologies. Just how many times do I have to say that it's fine? This annoying guy, really.

I busy myself by cooking some dinner. Suddenly I heard a knock on the door. I turned off the stove for a while. The knock was becoming impatient that I had to actually shout, "Coming!". When I opened the door, I saw Jaehyun panting and clearly just landed with his suitcase on his side. "Jaehyun," I said in surprise.

He immediately hugged me and kissed my earlobes, "I'm sorry, baby, I came here as soon we landed," he said, tightening his hug. "I thought your flight is still tomorrow?" I asked him as I tried to free myself from his tight hug. Thankfully he let go and entered our shared unit.

"I begged my manager," he replied nonchalantly. "Jaehyun?!" I exclaimed. What is wrong with him?! "You weren't replying to my messages, and I thought you got mad," he explained as he sat on the couch and pulled me by my waist to sit on his lap. I immediately cling my arms to his neck. "Baby, I wasn't mad," I laughed at him. He's really getting worried that his pout showing. "I was annoyed because you kept apologizing when I clearly said it's fine. And I wasn't even lying when I said it's fine to celebrate our anniversary tomorrow," I explained as I massaged his shoulder blades. I smiled at him to assure him. This is so funny how his fans often called him snob and aloof. This peach boy they call is totally a baby in from of me.

"But since you're here, we can still celebrate our anniversary. We still have 4 hours before the day ends," I said excitedly and walked towards the kitchen counter to sit on the high chair, "Oh, before that, I actually have a present for you" He reached for the pocket of his suitcase and got something. It's a black box with the YSL logo written in black glitter in front overlayed with 'Black Opium' on it. "Happy anniversary, baby," he said, inclining his lower back on the countertop. I hugged him tightly, "Thank you, love." I let go of the hug and looked at the present. God, my boyfriend is insane. This is, like, every girl's desired perfume! "Here, smell it" I took the bottle from him, sprayed it on my neck, near my jaw, and rubbed my wrist.

It smelled so good. It smelled like an exotic blend of lush flowers. He leaned forward in my direction and smelled the perfume on my neck. "It suits you." He was so close I could actually feel his breathing. "They said when a perfume comes in contact with a body, the scent changes," he said as he grabbed my wrist and smelled it. I ran my fingers on his face admiring every feature of it.

He kissed my palm as it came into contact with his lips. He licked it. Pulling my chair closer to him. My lips came in touch with the back of my hand, pressing my palm on his lips. He kissed it one last time before pulling my hand away. He leaned forward and kissed me.

I suck his tongue, and I let it roam around my mouth. He deepens the kiss by pulling me closer by the jaw. I locked my arms around his neck, and he pulled me to stand up, leaning my lower back on the countertop. Jaehyun held my waist tightly as he slid his leg between me. I sat there as his other hand rested on the countertop to support us.

I grind on his right leg as I suck more on his tongue. He carried me by his arms on my waist and made me sit on the countertop without breaking the kiss. His hands found the hem of my nightgown and slowly pushed it upwards, exposing my abdomen. "Did you like your present?" he asked. "Uhuh," I replied and flinched when I felt wet kisses on my abdomen slowly going up.

Jaehyun bit the hem of my dress and exposed more of my upper body, including my breast. He kissed my underboob and licked it as goes for my mounds. He sucked on it while his other hand rubbed my thigh, slowly reaching my ass. He squeezed my right butt cheeks as he sucked my left nipple.

I ruffled his hair to press him more on my chest. His right hand abandoned my ass and started kneading my other breast. I could feel his tenting bulge between my core. I ground on it as he continued playing with my mound and breast, "Ah," I exclaimed as he pinched and bit both of my mounds. My toes are curling up as he keeps on playing with my tits.

He pulled my legs towards him and took off my underwear. "So wet for me. Hmm?" he said as he slid his fingers down to my core, rubbed on it, and circled his fingers. "Ahh," I moaned as he also kneaded my right tits. He inserted two fingers while staring at me. "Ah, fuck”, I could hear squelching as I clenched my walls. "Can you hear how wet you are?" He massaged my walls, not really pulling his fingers out. "Still tight as ever." "I still can't get used to it" "But you take my cock well, love," he said, pulling his fingers in and out. He finally pulled his fingers out.

Jaehyun manhandled me, making my back face him. I felt his shaft rubbing my ass. I moved my ass closer to him, "Impatient, are we?" He moved his cock on my core, teasing my entrance. "Hold your cum for me, baby. Can you?" he asked politely as he fully inserted his shaft inside me. "Ahh, Fuck… Jaehyun" I almost had my first orgasm, but I clenched to stop myself. "Not yet, love," he said, kissing my nape and thrusting me from behind.

He fastens his pace, and I swear, just a bit of thrust, and I might not control myself. "Ah! Ah!" Heaven's sake, who made his libido peak? "I'm coming," I said as he kept on thrusting me at a faster pace. "Few more, baby" I'm really close, "Ja-Jae, I'm close. Ah!" He thrust more, and I wasn't able to hold myself anymore. A little later, he came too.

I was panting, and he was still inside me. I was already closing my eyes when he showed me a velvet box in front of me. I opened it and saw a ring. "Let's get married."

[tightjeansjavi]

Cigarettes & Feelings | Part 3 | Javi Pena x f! Reader

“you got me stumbling; you never give me a break”

A/N: I am so pleased with how this chapter turned out. I sat on it for awhile and didn’t want to force myself to write when I wasn’t feeling the motivation. I appreciate your patience ♡

~word count: 4.2k~

Summary: Javi shows you that beneath his playboy exterior, he’s just a man that left everything he knew behind to pursue a new life.

Warnings: some angst from both Javi and the reader, flirting, banter, a truce is made, Javi and the reader actually connect, mentions of alcohol and smoking cigarettes, late night talking, Javi opens up about his past, the reader sees him in a new light, some sexual tension/pining in the beginning, Javi acts as true gentleman, light fluff, no age gap, reader has no physical descriptions but is from the states, pet names used: cariño and hermosa +18 minors dni!

Bogotá, Colombia 1988

You felt flustered under the DEA agent's gaze. The night air was balmy, and his distinct fragrant cologne was wrapped around your senses like a snake. Twisting, squeezing, spinning your brain like a brightly lit merry-go-round.

Javier smelled like sex. Not the grimy kind. He smelled of leather, cigarette smoke, and faintly of women’s perfume. A combination that you should be turning your nose up at, yet here you were feeling your resolve slowly begin to crumble.

“Are you trying to flirt with me, Javier?” You boldly asked.

Javi raised a brow in your direction, lips curving up into a small smirk. One that sent your stomach into a fury of butterflies. There was something so slick about the way he smirked. Something underlying with brandished provactism. Javier was expertly practiced in the art of flirting. He was a man nonetheless, and your boldness caught him off guard.

“Is a man not allowed to tell a woman that he thinks she’s beautiful without there being an underlying reason behind it?” His tone was casual, even keeled as he hid the twinge of trepidation building in the pit of his stomach. “I think you’re beautiful, and it would almost be cruel for me to not be honest with you, querida.”

Your mouth fell open as you processed his words and the sincerity behind them. On the surface level you felt like a cornered mouse about to become the street cats next lunch. On the inside? You were struggling to keep the heat pooling in your tummy at bay. You didn’t want to boost the agent’s ego by confessing that you think he’s attractive as well. No, you were going to hold up your defenses for as long as you could muster it.

“Well, thank you Javi. I’m simply gushing that you think I’m beautiful.” You teased.

Well, there goes that plan of not boosting his ego..whoops. Better luck next time!

Javi cocked his head to the side as he tried to decipher if you were just messing with him or if his words truly did have that effect on you. You were frustrating to read, and even more-so now than ever. “Shall we..head out?” He gestured to his car in the awaiting parking lot below. I need a fucking drink. He silently thought to himself.

The next thing you did was surely going to melt and rot away the DEA agent’s already fragile state of mind. You had ever-so innocently plucked the burning cigarette from between his lips and placed the unlit end between your own. You took a long drag, blowing the smoke off to the side as his jaw went slack at your actions. “I never took you for the smoking type. I would have offered you one earlier if that was the case.” He casually stated as he watched the way your lips effortlessly wrapped around the tip of the cigarette. He found himself transfixed by the way the smoke billowed around your head like a misty halo. Your lips were lightly stained with lipgloss, and he found himself pondering if the flavor would taste like cherry, strawberry, or perhaps some other fruit. They were glistening under the street lights, like glazed sugary sweets. Delectable and melting on one’s taste buds.

“I only smoke on rare occasions or in a social setting. There’s a lot of things you would never take me for, Javier.” You took one more drag before placing the cigarette back between his lips. Cherry. That’s what your lipgloss consisted of. He found himself already pining for a proper taste.

Javi knew right then and there that he had to play his cards right. He didn’t want to jump the gun and assume that you were flirting with him, but at the same time he was absolutely hoping that you were. “So, what kind of cigarettes does a woman of your stature prefer to smoke?” He asked casually.

“A woman of my stature? That’s an interesting way of phrasing it Peña. If you must know..I quite enjoy the flavor of Marlboro Reds.”

Javi brushed the tip of his thumb across the bridge of his nose. A habit he would display when he was feeling particularly flustered in a situation. Although he wouldn’t admit it, your quick snap backs and confidence had his brain reeling. He cleared his throat as he gestured to the staircase leading down to the parking lot. “Shall we?”

You stared back at the DEA agent with your brow quirked suggestively. What happened to suave Javier Peña? Perhaps you had pacified that part of himself momentarily. Javier stared right back at you, almost in a challenging stance. Neither of you blinked as the tension seemingly simmered hotly through the close proximity you shared.

“Lead the way, Peña.” You said amusedly.

Javi finished off what was left of his cigarette as he flicked the end over the railing. You were graced with another whiff of his cologne as he breezed past you, footsteps heavy along the metal railing. He was already at his car by the time you finished locking your front door and meeting him in the parking lot.

Stolen glances were shared when he held open the passenger door for you like a true gentleman. Small talk was exchanged on the short drive to the local bar. Javi couldn’t help but wonder if tonight would finally be the night that he would break through your hard exterior shell.

His hand was gingerly resting along the small of your back as he walked alongside you. This was a safer part of town, but he always erred on the side of caution. He felt the goose flesh raise along your exposed skin where his warm palm was placed. His fingertips were just light toying with one of the straps on your dress. He half expected you to swat his hand away and scold him. However, he was pleasantly surprised that you did quite the opposite. You neither leaned into his touch or shied away.

To say that Steve was surprised to see you and Peña walking into the bar together was an understatement. His jaw literally dropped to the goddamn floor and Connie had to pick it up for him. Javi was already giving him the “don’t say anything please” look with just his eyes alone.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in.” Steve raised his bottle of beer in yours and Javi’s direction. “We were beginning to think that you were going to be a no show, Jav.” He grinned at him over the rim of his beer.

Javier offered to let you slide into the booth first, following you shortly after as he shrugged his signature leather jacket off, revealing another one of his many too tight to breathe shirts. This one was purple, and he looked goddamn handsome in it. “Sorry, got caught up doing some paperwork back at the office, and wanted to invite the newbie out for some drinks.” He shot you a subtle wink.

“Oh? So that’s what I am? The newbie?” You fought the urge to roll your eyes when he had winked at you. “I’ve been here for well over a month now, Javi.” You let out a faux sigh of disappointment and usually Javier would have a quick comeback, but he was determined to be in your good graces.

“Cariño, c’mon. You know I’m just kidding, right? Besides, I meant it more as a term of endearment? Yeah..that’s how I meant for it to come across.”

You gave the DEA agent a playful shove to the shoulder, your eyes light and teasing. “Oh, I know that’s how you meant it. I was just looking for an excuse to give you shit.”

“Ohh ha ha ha. Very funny, you really got me there missy.” He softly chuckled.

“I’m just shocked to see you both here in one piece. How the hell did you not end up ripping his head off?” Steve asked with a raise of his brow.

“Javier actually isn’t terrible company, when he’s not putting all his energy into flirting with me. I actually was pretty surprised when he asked me out for drinks without any ulterior motives.”

“I told you I really am not all that terrible of a guy, once you give me a chance. I’ll take this as a truce?” Javier outstretched his hand towards you with a gentle smile.

You eyed his gesture suspiciously before ultimately offering him your hand. Much to Steve’s disbelief, you and Javi firmly shook hands.

“It’s a truce, Peña.”

You and Javi had hardly touched your beers that stood next to one another on the table. The bottles had been sitting there long enough that condensation began to form along outside. It wasn’t that either of you weren’t in a mood for drinking, it was just that you and Javi were fully immersed in a conversation. He was sitting close enough to you in the booth that his knee was lightly brushing yours, and his arm was outstretched along the backside of the worn leather. His fingers were close enough that they could have easily brushed against the exposed skin of your shoulder, but he refrained; Javier was a gentleman of course.

“So, what made you want to fly all the way out to Bogotá? Was it your first option of choice or did you have a list of places to choose from?”Javier asked with a piqued, genuine curiosity about you and your life.

“I originally wanted to go to Italy and live on the Amafli coast with my rich husband that I have yet to meet..although, I bet he’s still out there and waiting to whisk me away on his Vespa.” You sighed dreamily. “I had always wanted to go to South America because of the rich and colorful culture, and I had a few friends that have made the trip as well and they all recommended it.”

Javier was listening to every word that passed your lips with intent. His gaze gently rested along your eyes and he thought it particularly cute that one of your main mannerisms when talking was that you used your hands to emphasize your words. Your facial emotions had a depth of range, and when you were passionate about something anyone in the room could easily depict it.

“The Amalfi coast, huh? Italy is very beautiful, and I’m sure you’d have no problem getting swept off your feet by some rich Italian hunk. I think you’ll find that Colombia has so much to offer, and you’re right about the rich and colorful culture here. It’s everywhere you look. Y’know, if you’re looking for a professional tour guide, I’d happily be your man.”

“I actually might have to take you up on that offer but don’t let it go to your head all at once, okay? I would hate to miss out on an opportunity to experience all that Colombia has to offer. What about you Javier? Was Bogotá your first choice?”

“I promise I’ll be the utmost professional. I would hate for you to get sucked into any of the tourist traps around here either. If I’m being honest with you, I outgrew Texas and needed a change desperately. You know that feeling of being trapped and living in a routine that is doing more harm than good? That’s what was beginning to happen to me. Anyway, in ‘79 I got my bachelors degree in sociology, and when the opportunity arose for me to leave Texas, I took it without looking back.”

You had not expected Javier to open up to you in this manner at all. It made you feel slightly guilty for creating a predisposition on who he was at the core. You were beginning to understand that you and Javi had a lot more in common than you would have ever thought. “It’s admirable that you recognized that in order to be happy, you needed to make a drastic change. I wish I had taken the leap sooner because for months I was weighing out the pros and cons to leave the states. The pros eventually weighed out the cons, and I’m happy I made the choices I did.”

“It was..tough to say the least. I pictured my life turning out completely different, and maybe then I still would have been happy, but those what ‘if’s’ had just started to fucking eat me alive. I was losing sleep and myself through the process. I left a lot behind in Laredo, including..” he paused as he stroked his thumb across his mustache in contemplation over whether or not he should continue.

You could tell from his body language alone that whatever he was having an internal battle over was something deep and personal. You didn’t want him to feel like he needed to share all of his secrets in one go. So you hesitantly reached your hand out and gently placed it along his covered knee, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“You don’t have to disclose anything that you don’t want to, Javi. Okay?” You softly reassured him.

Javi’s eyes briefly glanced down at where your hand was presently purchased around his knee. Normally he wasn’t comfortable with any form of PDA but he could tell your intent was genuine, and for that sole reason he deeply appreciated it. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you..it’s just that you might look at me differently than you do right now. We all have skeletons in our closet though right? Mine just happened to be leaving my fiancée at the altar on the day of our wedding. If I was going to change my life, I had to let go of the people I loved the most. I did it for her own good because I don’t think she would have been happy with me for long. She’s married to a stockbroker from Dallas and from what I have heard from friends back home, is that she’s really happy. I’m happy for her. She’s a good woman and perhaps if I wasn’t so flighty, I’d be married to her now.”

You felt your mouth suddenly feel dry at Javier’s confession. You couldn’t even begin to imagine how devastating it was for both him and his fiancée. Despite this, you could also understand why Javi did what he did. You couldn’t really blame him for making the decision to leave his old life behind entirely.

“I promise you that I hold no judgment over your past, Javier. I can understand why you made the choices that you did and it sounds like it all ended up working out for the better. I hope that you were able to heal from that experience because I can’t imagine the feelings you experienced when you realized that you had to leave her behind. You're right about everyone having skeletons in their closet. I think that’s what makes human beings Innately human is the fact that we all have lived experiences, and some of those experiences may in fact be shared. You’re a brave man for letting her go because you knew she deserved better. I don’t know many people that can honestly say that.”

Javi swallowed the lump that he didn’t realize was actively growing in his throat. You were wise beyond your years and the way you spoke to him in such a genuine tone had him feeling connected with you on a deeper level. It had been years since he had ever wanted to dip his toe into getting to know someone again, but he was secretly hoping that he would get to experience it with you.

“I appreciate you not holding it against me. I know it’s a large ball to drop on someone that you’ve only just started to become friendly with, but I figured that you weren’t the type to fault someone for their raw honesty.” He placed his hand gently over yours and neither you or Javi had noticed that Steve and Connie hadn’t been sitting at the booth for at least an hour. They had quietly left the bar when they realized that you and Javi were deep in conversation and they wanted to give you both all the privacy.

“Please feel free to tell me if I’m being too straightforward, and I promise that I’m not trying to make a move on you, but you mentioned wanting to experience Colombia’s culture and that includes the cuisine. There’s this really amazing empanada place not too far from here that’s open into the early morning hours. It’s my favorite joint around here, and I was wondering if maybe you’d like to get a late night bite with me? I’m genuinely enjoying my time with you, and I don’t want it to end.” Javi was unsure where his sudden confidence boost sprouted up from, but he had a sneaking suspicion it was due to his last conversation with Catalina and treating you with the utmost respect as a person.

You had half the mind to want to reach out and press the back of your hand against Javi’s forehead to check his temperature because this was not the Javier Peña that you had grown accustomed to. “I’m always in for a late night bite, and you had me at Empanadas.” You were already reaching for your purse just as Javi had placed down a few bills onto the table.

“It’s on me, cariño. I guess Steve and Connie slipped out when we were deep in conversation. I thought they were sitting there the entire time.” He remarked as he pulled out his pack of smokes and placed a cigarette between his lips before he casually slipped out of the booth and stood off to the side so you would have room.

“Thank you, Javi. I don’t remember them leaving either. What time is it anyway?” You slung your purse over your shoulder as you slipped out of the booth with ease.

“It’s a quarter to one.” He gestured to the wall clock above the bar as he lit his cigarette and slipped the lighter back into his pocket.

The late night air outside the bar was balmy and the nightlife was still present as you and Javi strolled down the street. “So, how did you find this empanada place? Did you just happen to stumble upon it or…?” You were walking alongside each other, one arm casted at your sides.

“I was drunk and absolutely starving.” He responded with a light chuckle as he blew the cigarette smoke off to the side so it wouldn’t billow around yours or his face. “It was my first weekend here actually and I stumbled out of the club and found this little slice of heaven. It was the best goddamn empanada I had ever had.”

“I could have guessed that you were drunk.” You softly giggled. “Well, I am fully expecting these to be the best goddamn empanadas that I have ever had the pleasure of tasting.” You looked over at him with a small grin.

What Javi really wanted to say was that you were cute; he opted to playfully wiggling his brows instead. “I think I can definitely handle that hermosa.”

Fresh empanadas in hand, you and Javier found a nearby park bench that neither of you knew it yet, but this specific bench was going to hold a sentimental meaning for both of you in the coming months.

The first bite was heavenly along your tastebuds. You had experienced your fair share of delicious food in your lifetime, but this empanada was on a whole other level.

“This is fucking delicious.” You mumbled between bites as your back comfortably rested against the parkbench. “You were not joking when you said that these were the best empanadas you had ever had.”

Javi has taken a few bites of his own as he eagerly watched for your reaction. “I don’t lie about stuff like that cariño. I take my food spots very seriously.” He stated with a chuckle as his hand that wasn’t holding the empanada was gently resting along the edge of the bench, fingers lightly brushing across the exposed skin along your shoulder.

“I’m looking forward to seeing what other places you are planning on showing me Javi.”

A comfortable silence washed over the two of you as you finished off your late night snacks. Javi was the one to break it in the end.

“Before you decided to take the leap and move to Colombia, did you have any dreams that you wanted to fulfill back home?”

You looked over at him feeling the heat of his body so close to yours with your knees brushing and the sound of crickets chirping in the background. “Oh, yes..I had many dreams before I left home. The biggest one was that I wanted to pursue writing in hopes to become a published author. I actually also got my bachelors in sociology, but I minored in English as well. Writing has always been something that I genuinely have enjoyed, but unfortunately it doesn’t pay the bills.”

“You were a sociology major as well? No wonder we get along so well.” He playfully teased. “What is your favorite genre to write? I’m sure if you still had the desire to, you could put some time aside to write a book.”

“Yeah I actually started off as a psychology major but the courses were so pointed at the patients and not the outside factors. Not to mention all the fucked up experiments that went on..like the Stanford Prison experiment that happened in ‘71? Or the Learned Helplessness experiment in ‘65? That’s just to name a few. Anyway, I’ve dabbled in writing just about anything you can imagine. Romance, mystery’s, life experiences, you name it, I’ve written it. I would love to write a book someday.”

Javi turned his nose up at the psychology experiments that you had listed. He agreed that they were certainly barbaric in nature and he completely understood why you switched majors. “I do remember questioning the morals and ethics behind those two experiments when they came out, and I can understand why you were disturbed by it. I think any morally sound person would find situations like that to be disturbing to visualize. If you ever do end up writing a book, I’ll be sure to pick up a copy and be the first person in line at your book signings.” he expressed with a tender smile.

You weren’t sure if it was the glow from the overhead streetlight highlighting the DEA’s features in a certain softness, or if it was the ambience delivered from the chirping crickets, or the way that Javier showed genuine interest in having a late night conversation with on this very park bench. One thing was for certain, something had shifted inside of you positively and you wanted to nurture that feeling.

“Javi, I think this is the longest that you and I have had an actual conversation that didn’t involve you trying to get into my pants. Listen, I know that you and I got off on the wrong foot from the moment I met you, but I’m genuinely having a really nice time with you right now.” Your soft admittance had the DEA agent feeling slightly flustered under your gaze.

“Really? You’re not just saying that to be nice or anything, right? I genuinely have had a really wonderful evening with you hermosa. It’s been a long time since I have connected with a woman like this. I just want you to know that I have no ulterior motives for asking you out for a late night bite. I really would love to get to know you, and I know that I let my ego get ahead of me in the beginning. I’m more than appreciative that you have given me what I feel is to be a second chance? I won’t deny that I find you to be incredibly attractive, but there’s more to you than what meets the eye..”

“No, I’m not just saying it to be nice or to inflate your ego or anything like that. My words are genuine and if I didn’t want to be here right now, I most certainly wouldn’t be. All night you have shown me a different side of yourself, and I hope that I get to see more of you, Peña.”

Neither of you had realized that your bodies were naturally gravitating towards one another as Javi’s thumb and forefinger gently came to rest along the cleft of your chin.

“Can I kiss you, please?” He whispered through the balmy air that blanketed you in a humid embrace.

“Yes, you can, Javi.” You murmured in response.

The tip of Javi’s thumb lightly brushed across your lower lip as he leaned in. His eyes flickered down to your own as he replaced his thumb with his lips pressing to yours. It was a slow, gentle kiss that had you feeling breathless the second his lips touched yours. Javi’s kisses were delicate and sincere, with a slight edge of something deeper as his hand cradled your jaw. Your lips moved in sync as the crickets chirped and the stars above twinkled. He only deepened the kiss when you leaned in closer, grasping the collar of his shirt as his tongue swiped along your lower lip with practiced ease.

You tasted just like he imagined; cherry lip gloss with a hint of cigarette smoke that lingered on your tongue.

Tag List: @chaotic-mystery @darkroastjoel @userpedros @pedrospartner @korynnekorynne @kirsteng42 @yazsos @last-girl @amanitacowboy @lovers-liability @tinygarbage @777-wonders @dinsdjrn @myrealmofchaos @loquaciousferret @pedrostories @axshadows @dev1lm4n @cavillscurls @thetriumphantpanda @sinsofsummers @cupofjoel @morning-star-joy @soaringcloud @casa-boiardi @pattwtf @marvel-nerd-girl

[mrsjavierp]

Where you belong?

Chapter 11 - Hell and Back

Javier Peña x latin!f!reader

Summary: Running away from life as you always knew to start a new position as Head Chief on a DEA Office, far away, on Colombia. There, you'll face violence, as you never thought you could. There, you'll meet Javier Peña, your stubborn agent...

Warnings (to the whole fic): +18!, MDNI!, age gap, angst, smut, cheating, last relationships, prostitution, violence, dub-con, drug dealing - Narcos Universe, bad spanish, english is my second language, use of Y/N and Y/LN. No physical description of the reader, only clothes (sometimes). The POVs are shifting between reader (first person and Narrator in 3rd person)

(If I forgot anything, tell me, pls!)

Word Count: 2,8k

A/N: I'm sorry for keeping you waiting, loves! so much happened: i started a new job, i'm studying again, so i'm on crazy hours... anyway, i just hope you like it!

Dividers: @saradika-graphics

Tag: @creedslove | @pedrostories | @mjoee13 | @immyowndefender | @iamsherlocked-1998 | @pedroswife69 | @szde8-blog |

Narrator’s POV

After you busted out of your own office, your mind was rushing, thinking about what to do, people to alert. Ben was, indeed, dangerous, and he had help getting out.

Who's help was the most important and dangerous thing to know.

It had to be big.

Javier counted up until 10 and went up to look for you.

When Javier started to get closer to his and Steve's desk, Steve said:

“Archive room, Peña. But hey, I need to talk to you later.”

Javier just nodded, not being able to relate what Steve meant by that.

As Javier stepped into the messy room, it looked like a messy library.

“Missed me?” - a female voice called Javi, as random hands tried to grab him.

“What the fuck!” - He yelled, dodging the touch. The lights were off, he didn't see who touched him at first, but he knew it wasn't you: the perfume was wrong.

“Oh, Javi, it's me, Valerie… I missed you…” - her voice was making both of you sick. You were jealous, Javi was nauseated.

She tried to kiss him again, but he took a step back.

“Don't touch me, Valerie. Back the hell off!”

You were hidden in the back, hugging your file, hearing Valerie and Javier.

You didn't know what to do, so you waited. You took a breath, calming yourself down.

Your mind was going crazy enough.

“Was there anyone who he didn't sleep with? Oh fuck!” - you thought.

“But Javi…” - her whine annoyed both of you. If you rolled your eyes, Javier probably did the same.

“Valerie, leave me the hell alone! You were a quicky in this archive room. Don't flatter yourself.” - Javier were really fucking rude with her.

You heard steps in heels leaving and the door shutting.

You almost wished to see her face.

“Cariño, I know you're here. I'm not leaving until you act like a goddamn grown-up!” - Javier yelled at you.

“I don't wanna talk, Peña. Not now. I don't wanna say or do anything I might regret.” - You continued to hide.

“Cariño, don't make me find you. You're not gonna like me when I'm mad.” - his tone seemed serious. - “I know I went behind your back, but so did you. It's your last chance to appear.”

You didn't move.

“Your funeral, cariño. Ready or not, here I go…” - He spoke to the darkness.

It felt like a sick joke to you: play hide and seek with Javier.

God, you wish you could kill him.

You had two options: escape the archive room and, by all means, escape once more of Javier or let him catch you.

You scoffed low.

“As if I'd let you win, Peña… Come and get me.” - You thought.

You both started a kind of hunt: you had to get out through the door and Javier had to catch you before it. The room was poorly illuminated by hot, weak yellow lights, while filled with bookshelves and file storage cabinets.

And lots of paper, of course.

You could almost feel Javier get too close sometimes, when you realized: your heels were the ones to blame - clapping on the floor, telling on you.

You took them off, fast and as quietly as you could, and tiptoed around the room, like a kitten.

“Cariño, you can't hide forever… If not now, it's gonna be way worse when I have time to plan on what to do.” - He spoke again, in a way that mixed pain and pleasure, like only Javier knew how.

It went straight to your folds, as if he was just right next.

Any sound seemed like a loud noise and you were trying so hard to keep it down… It all felt like a labyrinth, messing up your senses.

Even breathing was loud.

Your muscles tensed up, you really felt like a prey, a little bunny being hunted by a wolf.

God knows Javier wouldn't have mercy on you. And you needed to buy time.

For a moment, you felt you could run to the door, felt hope that Javier would only hear the door closing and you could escape.

And you did: you ran, but as you arrived at the door, you felt Javier’s hands on your waist, holding you against him.

And as on the first night, you were pressed on the door, facing him. Your file and your shoes were all over the floor.

You could feel his hot breath on you, his body tensed as he touched you. Javier’s blood was boiling with rage and desire.

“Gotcha, cariño… You're gonna hear me, whether you like it or not." - He whispered in your ear.

You tried to move your body, but Javier turned your back to him, held your hands tight and threw his body on you, making it even harder for you to do anything.

Truth be told, he manhandled you like he would do to a criminal.

“Peña, we're here for too long, we need to get out…” - You were nervous, your mind struggling to make a point, while he held you and you could smell his perfume mixed with his scent and sweat, his dick going even harder in your ass. - “It's been too long already, people will talk… We can talk about it later, at my place…” - you're trying to make a deal.

But your voice was barely a whisper.

“No, cariño. You had your shot.” - Javier grunted. - “I'm done with your running away. I'm gonna make my point now, and you're going to pay attention. Are we clear?”

You swallowed hard and nodded positively.

He pinned you with his hips, pissed. You could feel his length getting harder and bigger. Unconsciously, you arched your back like a cat, letting him go further.

Be damned the moment you decided to use pants.

“Words, cariño… Are you gonna listen to me?”

“Yeah, Peña, I'll listen.” - your voice was still low and weak.

It's not like you had a choice, anyway.

“No, cariño, I'm not Peña now. Do it over.”

Javier, for the first time, was being ruthless against you.

“Yes, Javi, I'll listen.”

“See? You really can be a good girl when you want to… Now, here's the thing: We're gonna discuss it in more detail, but, for now, I'm gonna sum it up. I know a little about you and your ex… I know he was a dirty cop, I know you arrested him. Yes, to me, that note was a threat, since we discovered together that he's out. That's what I know. Yes, I went behind your back and talked to Joe about it, I called him. And yes, before we found out about Ben, I was jealous. It's been two months and I already feel like you're mine.” - His tone was low and deep. He said those words, and you wanted to believe him, but you were afraid.

“Peña, I…”

His grip tightened around your fists.

“No, cariño, I'm not Peña now.” - He repeated.

“Javi, come on… I need to get back to work.” - neither you could convince yourself.

“We'll be back in a few, cariño. First things first… Tell me you understood what I said.”

“I did, Javi.” - You continued to feel him getting under your skin. - “Javi, please…”

“Good girl, cariño… Do you believe me?”

His question was sincere. He needed you to believe him.

And as much as your brain insisted you didn't, your heart responded for you:

“I do. I wish I didn't, but I do.”

He also believed you. Javier knew how hard it was for you to admit it, and he would take it under consideration when he punishes you.

His grip loses a bit, so he could hold you with just one of his hands and grab your hair.

God, if you could, you would kill him: you were supposed to be mad, not horny… You could feel your core getting even wetter.

“You're, indeed, such a good girl when you wanna be, cariño…” - he had such a husky voice. It went straight to your folds, as your pussy clenched over nothing. - “After our shift today, I'm going to your place, with a good bottle and an even better cigar. And we're gonna actually have a full conversation about it. Be home at 7.”

You gulped, overwhelmed and sensitive.

“Yes, Javi.”

Javier let go of you, slowly. He got on his knees, just like the first time, as you turned to look at him.

You wanted him to do what he did best: make you cum.

He picked up your heels, put them on your feet, one by one, calmly. He picked up your file, got up, handed to you and said:

“You can go now.” - He got up and kept a friendly distance, as if you never touched each other.

“Why are you so far away, you're not even kissing me goodbye?” - you complained, feeling empty without his touch.

“I'm not touching you again, at least not until we walk through this.”

You roll your eyes, annoyed, and left for your office, banging the door.

At 18:55, you were already at home, ready and waiting for Javier.

“That bastard…” - you cursed Javier.

You spent the whole day rubbing your thighs against each other, craving for Javier. Unholy be that man, who not only teased you in that archive room, but during the day, saying things in a way that kept you still throbbing… Your mind played with his words, his discreet, yet noticed by you, looks, lightly touches that no other human being would suspect.

At seven o'clock sharp, Javier knocked at your door. As you opened the door, he was holding an incredible bottle of whiskey and your favorite cigar.

“Are you gonna let me in?” - he asked, with a playful tone that, right now, you were hating.

“That depends, Peña… Where you want to come in?”- your words had the same tone he used the whole day.

He raised his eyebrows and responded:

“For now? At your apartment, cariño.”

You take a step back and let him in.

At that point, he knew where you kept your things, so he just went to the kitchen cabinet and picked up the scotch glasses and your ashtray.

You observed Javier, it was kinda funny how he just belonged there.

It felt right.

Bother line painful right.

“There you go, cariño. It's probably older than you, this one.” - He handed you a scotch glass, and raised his. - “A toast?”

“To?”

“Solving things up.”

You toasted with him, in silence.

Your mind was still rushing from all that had happened.

“So… Who's gonna start?” - Javier asked as you sat down on the couch.

“I'll, Javi. I gotta warn you, it's bad.”

Javier took a deep breath and held your hand.

“I'm here, cariño. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you.”

“Okay, Javi… Leave the questions to the end, please. I promise that I'll do my best to answer.”

Javier just nodded.

“My parents never wanted me to be a cop, but never prohibited me as well. They wanted me to be a lawyer or an ADA, whatever. I joined the academy at the same time as college. It was intense, but I knew I was at the right place. I met Ben as soon as I got into the academy. He was already an officer, just before he got promoted to be a detective. As we both know, the drug war is going nuts in the whole US… I was transferred to the DEA.”

You take a sip, as Javier observed you.

“Ben and I…” - you took a deep breath. - “We were an okay couple: people seemed to like us and I liked him. We had a normal life: dates, our families liked us and each other. Nothing alarming… But something always felt… Wrong. Ben never used the word “slut”, but his comments were things like: “why do you wanna try these things? Who fucked you like that?” Or “why do you need a vibrator, I'm not good enough for you?”... In such a mean tone, making me feel bad for having curiosity or desire.”

“Fucking asshole…” - Javier scoffed.

“Until I started an investigation among prostitutes and cicarios that traced all back here to Colombia. Ben wanted me to let him join the investigation, but I couldn't. He wasn't DEA… As it got bigger, we had a closed door operation… Looking back, the rumors started just after… I remember the looks, the pitty, the gossip.” - You scoffed, mocking yourself.

“Cariño…”

“Joe told you, didn't he?”

Javier just nodded.

“ ‘She's such a good cop, but can't even notice what's happening under her nose’ or ‘if he's doing this, probably isn't getting any at home’... but my favorite was ‘she probably knows and ignores it. A woman shouldn't be a cop.’... I only found out about it later. And Ben was so fake…” - your voice had a bitter tone. - “He pretended to support me. He wanted to know how it was going… He said he didn't mind me getting home late and leaving early. He knew it was temporary, that we were meant to be for life… God, how stupid was I…”

Javier tried to hug me, but I raised my hand, holding him back a bit.

“Until the investigation was always traced back to the same NYPD… Ben's station, by the way… Cops were involved, FBI got involved.”

Javi raised his eyebrows, knowing what that meant.

“Weeks later, the day to bust into the main brothel arrived. The adrenaline was so intense inside my veins… My gut was weird, like it was preparing me. We busted in, silent, aiming to the main office. I asked to lock all the “clients” room, arrested the main cicario, it was so satisfying… The clients tried to escape, but couldn't. Joe and I invaded Ben's room, by coincidence, it was the closest to the office. Joe arrested the prostitute and I slapped Ben's face. Joe knew better than saying anything. We had a fight, he tried to be violent to me… But I held him, my rage and frustration gave me the strength. When I showed up with him, everyone was in shock… We took everybody to the station to book'em, but the stupid rookie didn't search Ben properly, and he had a knife. The cicarios all had a specific signature knife, and as Ben was one of them, the cartel gave him one. I interrogated him, it escalated to a physical fight, when Joel and the others came in, he had stabbed me… but not before I gave him a few too…” - You laughed, a bit ironic.

“Joe didn't tell me he stabbed you, Y/N…”

“He feels guilty for it. He was supposed to be there with me, but I didn't let him.” - I responded.

I finally picked my file on the table and showed him a few pictures, investigation, data and records.

“Remember I said to you my brother is an ADA? He was the one who did the trial. It became a family matter… My brother sold himself to the devil to be the prosecutor on this case and it worked. I don't know what he did nor who he sucked up to, but it worked… Ben was convicted, but I don't know how or why he got out.”

“Fuck, cariño…” - Javier didn’t know what to do or what to say.

“I talked to him earlier, they all know, the FBI is protecting everyone's family. If I had to bet, the FBI is investigating something about the US’ judiciary and Ben is the bait.”

In an impulsive act, Javier hugged you, as if he was going to protect you from everything and everyone. His hand went to your scar, caressing it, his hand under your shirt.

You closed your eyes, feeling his soft touch, your eyes watering.

“You never asked about my scar…” - you said.

“Since you told me it was a field scar, I kinda just let it be.” - Javier admitted. - “Now that I know the story… I fucking hate your ex… More than when I talked to Joe.”

You giggle.

Javier caressed your face, played with your hair, like you're gonna break.

“Javi, I'm not a fragile little thing…” - You complained, while he was drying your tears.

“I know…” - He said, holding your cheek, looking deeply in your eyes. He knew you weren't, but he wanted and needed to take care of you.

You, in the other way, needed to feel alive again. You needed to make it hurt.

You needed Javier to make it hurt again.

“Javi...” - you started, with your eyes closed, almost purring. - “Make it go away, please.”

“Cariño, what do you mean?” - he asked, still holding your face in his hands.

“I need to feel alive again, Javi. Make me forget about everything… Make me hurt, please. Like that night, when we got back together.” - You put your hands on his, holding them.

“Cariño…”

“Please, Javi, please…” - You beg, looking at him, desperate.

Next

[thelightsandtheroses]

Secret Smile: Fall to Pieces (Chapter Six)

Secret Smile | Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: Before returning to Colombia to get things right this time, Javi’s childhood best friend asks him to keep an eye out for his sister while they’re both stationed in the embassy. Only you don’t need Javier to keep an eye you her. Your role as a new legal advisor is all about keeping an eye on him after all. Sparks fly, lines will be drawn and broken and there’s everything to lose.

Word Count: 3.3 k Chapter Warnings: 18+ blog, language, reader has a nickname (Blue) but no physical descriptors used Author Notes: As always, thank you for all your feedback, likes and reblogs so far – it means a lot and I’m having so much fun writing this fic. I’d love to know what you think of this next chapter so please feel free to comment, reblog or even send an ask!

Previous | Series List | Next

This is all too much. it’s not enough Blue is haunting him by working in the same embassy, in being assigned to be his glorified babysitter but to be living in the Tome apartment he used to live in?

Javi’s really pissed some karmic force off.

It was surreal, standing there in the Tome apartment he used to live in and suddenly flooded with all those memories while being aware that everything was slightly different, slightly out of place. There were different photos, different plants, different smells and personal touches. It was uncanny.

And then he’d almost kissed you.

He still can’t quite reconcile your reaction, can’t quite make sense of it all. It doesn’t matter though; it was a bad idea. A terrible idea even. There’s something in Javi - whenever he’s faced with those regrets and mistakes, whenever things seem to be going wrong, he wants to find solace in someone else. He did that with Katie, the intern, and he wanted to do that with you too.

Or was it more? He knows you, or at least knew you once. You’re part of his history, of his hometown. In Bogotá that makes you a spectre, reminding him of who he wanted to be, who he used to be. There’s something soothing yet so confusing about your presence right now.

He thinks about you, about what would have happened if you had kissed, the way your lips would have felt, how far it could have gone. Even now, every time you’re in the Tome room, he can feel the rising temptation, the desire to be closer to you, to be with you. He’s no longer immune to the smell of your perfume, to the way you look down at the ground for a microsecond before you smile, or how you fiddle with your necklace when you’re thinking about something. There’s something simultaneously fierce and vulnerable about you; that keeps you an enigma to him.

That moment in your home - at his old apartment - opened a door to something he was trying to keep locked away.

He’s glad nothing happened, glad he didn’t ruin everything with you as well. He probably would have.

That seems to be the way of things now.

Days have passed since the arrest and with them, an itching sensation has risen that things are going downhill. The pressure is slowly building, the tension mounting. Javi feels like he’s a lobster in boiling water, unable to escape and aware of what is coming and not sure whether there’s any fight left, or if he should just accept his fate.

He remembers the way the panic rose as he was called out in the meeting after the arrest; asked what his roadmap to victory was. This new role with its suits, ties and endless meetings? It’s not really him.

He can’t give up though. The names and faces of so many of the people he has let down in Colombia haunt him. Without someone like Martinez on his side too, Javi’s worried.

He needs results. He needs to find Jurado, to get more evidence. If he can’t do this, all the evidence his team has amassed, the progress he’s made, will collapse like a house of cards.

So, he asks Stoddard to play the wiretap tapes, tries to ignore how Stoddard reacts to that, pretends he didn’t hear Stoddard say you would not react well if you found out about this. Instead, he asks Stoddard about where he sees his career in five years if he asks others that question on the tapes’ legality and he feels the weight of the job add just a little more to his shoulders.

The odds are stacked against him, against bringing down this cartel.

What is he supposed to do?

“Please tell me this is a joke, your idea of humour perhaps?” you ask, voice acerbic and body taut.

Ever since you overhead Stoddard talking to one of your colleagues in thinly guided hypothetical scenarios a few hours ago, you’ve been waiting for this conversation. You had to sit through a meeting with your manager while quietly planning out everything you would calmly say to tear Javier Peña apart. It is a true skill to be able to do that while looking like you are listening to whatever the other person was saying.

In the past few hours, you have toyed with several reactions. From screaming at him in front of everyone to using that cold, deadly voice you only used at work when someone had really upset you. In some of your more extreme imagined responses, you have thrown the empty glasses in his office against the wall and roared too. However, that strikes you as a little excessive. You’ll save that for Plan C perhaps.

Monologues have been meticulously planned, edited, and rehearsed under your breath as you went about your day. You mentally experimented with the timbre of your voice as you spooned coffee into your mug, with exactly which words to use to best craft your argument, your admonishment.

Only now you’re here, facing Javi and it’s real.

“Blue, I-” Javi looks at you with those deep brown eyes, pleading somehow, but you refuse to fall for that.  He’s wearing one of those infuriating well-fitting shirts, the top button undone and tie loosened.

You almost kissed him …

You look over and notice the ash tray on his desk is once again filled with cigarettes and his desk is covered in scattered papers and files.

You know he’s been under pressure. Over the months, you’ve noticed the way he fidgets; the way he automatically moves his fingers when he’s nervous or under pressure. You know what the higher ups are asking of him, you know it’s a lot for one person to bear. To do what he’s done though? Any sympathy ebbs away.

“Because,” you continue, your voice venomous and arms folded, “after everything we’ve talked about, I know you wouldn’t knowingly instruct one of your team to conduct a wiretap like that, not without going through the correct processes. I know that, right? Because you’re not a complete fucking idiot.”

“I am trying to get a fucking case so we can stop the Cali cartel. Stop being naive!” Javi snaps, finally showing his real feelings. He’s not sorry, you know he isn’t, and that makes this even worse.

“By using an illegal wiretap? Do you have any idea what that could do to the case? Yes, of course you do which is why you didn’t tell me.”

“I was protecting you.”

“That’s not your job, Javi. My job is to protect this case and right now you’re hindering me.”

”Look, I know we can’t use the tapes -”

“Or anything from them! It’s fruit of the poisoned tree, Javier. This entire avenue of investigation isn’t so much on shaky ground as it is utterly destroyed. I - I don’t even know what to say to you right now.”

Your head is throbbing and you massage your temples to no avail.

“It took a while, but I am almost there with Franklin Jurado’s wife, Blue and then -”

“Oh, I bet you are,” you bite back.

“What’s that supposed to mean, huh?”

“What do you think?” you retort, completely lost to the argument at this point. Everything in you is saying to be calm, rational, to not let your emotions dictate but you are infuriated by what Javi has done.

It isn’t just about how ill-advised, how unethical it all is or how it could compromise your case. It’s because he did it anyway, knowing what your role was, knowing the position it would leave you in.

“I’m waiting on a - confirmation of something and then I’ll know where he is and we’ll get him. It’ll be solid. I have a plan.”

You sigh. “You better, Javi, you better.”

The parcel arrives the day after your confrontation with Javi. You immediately recognise the messy handwriting as one of your closest friends from back home, Shelley. Immediately it acts like a balm for your sharp edges and irritation.

To both your amusement and horror, during college she started dating one of your best friends from home, Carlos. Now the two of them are married and live in Laredo of all places. Shelley hosts a local radio show and while the people of your hometown generally seem to prefer more mainstream music to Nine Inch Nails, Shelley is persistently building a small, devoted following.

You miss them both. Shelley had made it clear that she had hoped you would come back to Texas when it was clear you needed to leave DC. She had even joked in your last phone call when you first arrived in Bogotá that she’d told you to go for a fresh start, a new job, but not to leave the damn country!

Over recent years, you’ve mostly ended up meeting outside of Laredo at concerts for bands you loved or last summer you’d all hired a house by the coast for a week. It had been you, Shelley, Carlos and Jamie, your now ex-boyfriend. 

The box has arrived at a perfect time. Javi and you were even more tentative around each other today. Yesterday’s frustration was so thick in the air you could taste it, feel it constricting around your body like insulation.

Beyond that, you’ve been riddled with doubts, anxieties, and unwanted memories since the near kiss. It’s like one moment has dropped you months into the past, back to a time you don’t want to think about.

You hate the double standards and hypocrisy at play, the assumptions you’re trying to prevent. You hate the politics of it all - the way you must prove yourself and prove yourself and never ever let a single vulnerability show while you’re at work.

You don’t open the box from your friends until you’re in your apartment, perched on the edge of your couch as you tentatively cut it open.

There are numerous packets of some of your favourite types of candy, several new paperbacks, three letters and most excitingly of all, two cassette tapes.

It’s funny how just a few small touches can immediately transport you somewhere else, can make you feel a little lighter.

You take in the three envelopes, one is clearly from Shelley, it looks the longest, the next is clearly from Carlos and is short but sweet. The other you can tell by the blocky handwriting is from Jamie. You’d spoken to him before you left for Colombia, told him that Shelley would be the best way to reach you if he wanted to.

You’ve never stayed friends with an ex before, but Jamie is different. You think the real indicator of this was that several months after your break-up when everything had kicked off in DC, he had been there for you, been a steady and calming presence when you were questioning everything and Shelley and Carlos were so far away. It’s probably part of the reason he’s still tolerated enough by Shelley and Carlos that they let him send his contribution to your care package via them, that they would even have reached out to him to get this or would have known you would be okay with that.

For a second you remember the time the four of you had met in New York to go to a concert for a band you all loved. Everything seemed simpler then - life, relationships, work.

You think about the adrenaline of this job; of how much your life has changed since then. Would you ever have imagined having dinner with Javi after he arrested a cartel leader back then?

This country is changing you slowly. Perhaps it’s not all for the bad either.

You open one of the packets of candy and the letter from Shelley first.

Shelley’s letter makes you feel like she’s right there in the room talking to you. You smile warmly at the memories of your friendship with her. Shelley’s always encouraged you, always been there for you, she’s been that supportive voice in all of those moments where you’ve wondered if you can do something. She’s been a friend you haven’t been able to shut out, who hasn’t let you push her away. You hope you represent something similar to her.

One passage stands out in letter because even in this moment, you can’t escape Javi.

Your brother says that a certain Javier Peña is out in Colombia too, which I didn’t think was a big deal but Carlos tells me definitely is. I think I saw him at Danny’s wedding and if I’m right, he is a tall glass of water. Do you see him at work? Tell me everything!

Well Shelley, you think, I completely messed up and almost kissed him, then rejected him and the man just leaves me completely confused. I may also have chewed him out spectacularly yesterday so I don’t think he’d ever want to kiss me again, even I wanted to.

You miss your friends; you wish you could more readily just phone Shelley and have a long talk over a glass of wine. You need to write back to her. Carefully, of course. There is so much that cannot be put in writing at all lest it fall into the wrong hands.  Words are slippery in a world like this; you can’t just say whatever you are thinking, but you can’t avoid replying either.

You can’t concentrate on the letters though. Your confrontation with Javi still rages through your veins - you’ve analysed everything you could have said differently, come up with several witty comebacks you missed and perhaps worst of all, in your mind you ended the discussion far more positively.

Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad if it wasn’t for the near kiss. That’s just as confusing in your mind too.

You were reckless with Javi. There is no way you can afford being seen that way here. It’s too close, too risky, too much. You have already left one job, fled the country once. If anyone from DC even heard whispers about what could have happened with you and Javi …

You scowl, trying to stop your spiral as quickly as possible. It’s okay, nothing has happened.

You take another piece of candy and sigh. You need to forget about what almost happened with Javi. For both of your sakes.

Willemstad is beautiful. The mix of painted buildings and blue ocean makes it look like paradise. You never expected that you would be somewhere like here on a work trip.

A couple of days ago, when Javi had told you he finally had located Jurado, you expected that you would just create the motions and legal briefs. You’d sit in your open plan office and listen out to hear whether the operation was successful. Only now you’ve been swept along with him to this amazing place and you feel a complete imposter.

You’re not an agent; you’re a lawyer. This isn’t like any courtroom or legal office you’ve encountered before.

“Stoddard’s confirmed all the logistics, right?” you ask as you start to walk towards the main police building with Javi, happy to be stretching your legs after the short flight.

“Yes. It should all be in place so you don’t need to worry about that. I wanted you here more for the Miami side - I need this guy on US soil as soon as possible and when he is -”

“We need a deal.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think he’ll cooperate? Has the wife given any indication of that when you uh, spoke to her?”

“I think he has to. Fuck, Blue, for this to work then he has to. I need his testimony.”

You look at Javi. For a moment you’re taken aback to some of your initial thoughts about him in Bogotá; that he looked like Atlas with the weight of the world on his shoulders. How is it possible he looks even more burdened now?

“Let’s get it then. I’ll work on the paperwork while you arrest him.”

He’s covered in sweat, a grim smile on his face. The pink shirt he was wearing this morning, the one you thought looked infuriatingly good on him, is darkened with sweat.

“He’s arrested then?” you ask cautiously. You’d heard that Javi’s original plan to arrest him within the grounds of the bank was shut down by the police; apparently that wasn’t how things were done in Curacao. From Javi’s appearance it’s clear a chase has taken place.

Javi nods, running a hand through his sweaty hair and you wonder how easy the arrest was for him and the team. “We’re getting the plane ready and we’re going straight to Miami. The Ambassador said the extradition papers were set? Have you updated Justice?”

You point at a pile of papers in front of you. While Javi’s appears to have been chasing Jurado all around Curaçao, you’ve been stuck in this room typing up briefs and motions in preparation.

“We should have everything we need. I spoke to the Ambassador earlier and then the team in Miami before you came in and we’re all set,” you say, stifling a yawn as you stretch your legs. You’ve been sitting for too long.

You hand Javi your glass of water. He looks like he needs it more than you and he gratefully accepts, gulping it down. You try not to notice the rivulets of sweat on his neck as he does that.

“Have you spoken to Stoddard about the wife? The moment the cartel knows, Javi, they will - and if I were Franklin, I wouldn’t have a deal unless she was included and safe.”

“I know, I’m calling now. We’ve got to get this all in place before they know we have him.”

   It feels like you barely have time to collect your thoughts before you’re on a plane with Javi and Franklin Jurado on your way back to the United States.

You hear snippets of Javi’s conversations with Franklin as you walk back from the bathroom but you’re not paying attention to what is said. Instead you are intent on using the flight time to get ahead on the many other briefs and motions you need to complete, to test out the exact wording of the plea deal with Franklin Jurado, to complete the plans and decision trees for Justice and Jurado’s lawyers just in case.

You miss the courtroom.

You’ve realised that’s where you shine, where you feel able to most make a difference. This job, as varied, as unexpected as it is, is a step removed from that. It’s more about diplomacy, about briefings and managing interested parties and application of the law but not in a courtroom, not where you feel most at ease.

You can’t regret this job. There are so many parts where you feel you are adding value and you needed to leave DC regardless. This was the right decision.

Javi gets up from his seat, walking over and leaning over you from the aisle. You immediately put your file down and look at him.

“We’re landing in a few minutes. You ready for this, Blue? Is the deal ready?”

“Oh yes,” you say with a slight smile, “Now you’re in my wheelhouse, Javi.”

“Looking forward to it,” he says in a low voice.

Tag List

Secret Smile tag-list @darkroastjoel @sullyosully @catsickyellow @spishsstuff @casa-boiardi @living-for-jesus-and-telenovelas @pastelnap @babeincolor @iamskyereads @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

Everything Pedro tag-list: @harriedandharassed @pedrostories @hiroikegawa @pedrosaidsheispunk

If you want to be added to (or removed from) one of the tag lists, let me know or you can get notifications for @thelightsandtheroses-fics if you prefer. If you do not have an age or age range showing you are over 18, I will not add you to this list. I block ageless and blank blogs.

[soluniversal]

Perfume 2y2 Beat Prestige | 212 Wins Mujer

Perfume 2y2 Beat Prestige | 212 Wins Mujer

Esta fragancia con las notas superiores de mandarina y brotes verdes se mezclan con las intermedias de rosa y granada, y culminan con la base de almizcle y habas tonka para una experiencia olfativa en múltiples capas. Inspirado en212 WinsAromaVerde FloralContenido9100 mlCasaPrestigeDescripción $ 57.000 📲 ¡Envíanos un mensaje para confirmar la disponibilidad! Compra a través…

[lorenscolombia]

Revela la belleza y sofisticación con Live in Love de Oscar De La Renta para mujer. Esta fragancia atemporal es una mezcla perfecta de notas florales frescas y verdes, lo que la convierte en una elección ideal para la mujer moderna y elegante. 🌿🌸 Disfruta del aroma lujoso que ha cautivado a mujeres en todo el mundo.

[the-hinky-panda]

Reparar (Los Regalos Series)

So this is technically the last part of Los Regalos but I'm not completely opposed to revisiting these two again.

Pairing: Colonel Horacio Carrillo x Fem!Reader

Rating: PG-13

Summary: You’re new to Colombia and the Search Bloc, loaned out by the Army to help sift through the wiretaps, sat phone calls, and other communications. After figuring out that it was Colonel Carrillo who was leaving little gifts, the two of you start seeing each other. But after an assassination attempt that leaves you wounded, you two decide to act like you've broken up. However, things are never as easy as they seem.

He wakes up with a splitting headache and the taste of ash in his mouth. Horacio buries his head into his pillow and prays the throbbing in his temples and the vertigo lessens enough for him to remember exactly what happened last night. Grief still presses heavily between his shoulder blades as soberness churns his stomach. How much whiskey did he go through? What happened last night exactly? 

It comes to him in flashes. He had spent time looking at the gifts and offerings that you had been sneaking into his office. He knew from the side-eyed looks between Peña, Murphy, and Trujillo, you had some help with this little covert operation. He vaguely remembers the things, but what did he do with them? A box, he put them in a box. Then what? 

Oh God. Oh God. He went to your apartment. He knocked on the door. He left the box. Oh God, no. He left the box. The horror of you finding your kind gifts dumped in front of your door is enough to rouse him out of bed. He moves too quickly and instantly regrets it as his head splits apart and his stomach roils. He has to sit there with his head between his knees until the pain decreases and his stomach settles. 

While he waits for that, more pieces of last night come to him. The knock at the door. Him not caring to even pick up his gun as he approached the front door. Opening the door and seeing your face, your red-rimmed eyes, and the sad downturn of your mouth. You brought the box back. You brought the gifts back to him. That makes his stomach flip again. 

He has to find you. You were here last night, he has a vague memory of you sleeping here. He takes in a couple deep breaths and stands up from the bed. The room spins but after a moment it slows to manageable sway. He moves from his bedroom and leans on the doorway of the small guest room down the hall. If you had slept there, he couldn’t tell. The bed is neatly made, no signs of clothes or shoes tossed over a chair or laying on the dresser. He rests his head against the doorframe and tries to remember if you were really here last night or if he’s just made that up. 

There’s a beep that comes from downstairs. Three short beeps followed by a long one. The coffee pot. Someone made coffee. You must have made coffee. He makes his way downstairs, practically leaning against the wall to help balance himself. He’s too hungover to be quiet which is good since his tongue feels like sandpaper and he’s not sure he could call your name, to warn you of his now conscious presence. 

But when he reaches the first floor of the house, he doesn’t hear you at all. He doesn’t smell your light perfume. In fact, he doesn’t sense anyone at all. The curtains are all drawn, the rooms pleasantly dark. There is still the scent of coffee hanging in the air and it doesn’t twist his stomach. He ventures into the kitchen and finds two cups sitting neatly in the sink. Did he drink so much that he forgot having coffee with you at some point this morning? Wait, is it morning? He looks up at the clock on the wall and sees it’s almost three-thirty in the afternoon. 

You’re not here. You’ve given up on him. And he can’t be angry with you about that. He was the one that kept pushing you away, returning your things in the middle of the night. He’s the one that drank himself into oblivion last night and has no memory of what he said or did. Maybe you’re off crying on Javier’s shoulder now. The single DEA agent had a thing for damsels in distress and what Horacio has put you through could certainly qualify as distress. 

He hears the front door open, the loud noise of people walking past and a car horn make him wince before the door quietly shuts and stillness returns. There’s only a handful of people with keys to his home, only a handful of people he trusts with access to his home. He hears a soft sigh being released, a delicate sniff, before a couple clacks of shoes reverberate through the darkened home. He steps back into the dining room which gives him a direct line of sight to the front door. 

He almost doesn’t recognize you. He’s never seen you in uniform before. Gone are your sneakers and jeans and linen shirts. You’re in a starched dress shirt, buttoned all the way up to your throat, a fitted olive colored jacket, and straight pencil skirt. You’re in the middle of taking off the plain black pumps so you can walk whisper-like through the house. Your hair is pulled back into a neat bun at the base of your neck while a military hat is perched on your head. 

“Horacio?” 

It takes him a couple tries before he can force sound out of his mouth. “Querida.” 

You still completely. Your hands fidget with something, gloves, as you wait for him to say something else. When he doesn’t, you reach for your shoes again. “I can leave. I’m sorry.” 

“No.” It comes out as a command, like he’s standing in front of an inept cadet. “I mean, don’t go. Please.” 

You breathe a slow sigh of relief, a shaky smile crosses your face as you go back to slipping off your shoes. “Okay. If you want to take a shower, I’ll make some more coffee.” 

He nods mutely, wondering just how awful he must look for you to suggest that to him. He’s still trying to piece together what exactly happened last night, what was said, what wasn’t said, but his head is still pounding and thoughts won’t complete themselves. You pass by him on the way to the kitchen and slip your hand into his, giving him a gentle squeeze. 

“We’ll talk when you come back downstairs.” And you smile, truly smile. After everything he has put you through, you smile at him. “It’ll be okay, Horacio.” 

The world stops spinning. The ground levels out. You tell him it’s going to be okay and he believes you. 

***

You have no idea if he’s going to be okay. You’re so used to seeing Horacio being strong, immovable, and in complete control of whatever chaotic shitstorm is currently surrounding Search Bloc. He’s been made of granite for as long as you’ve known him. But now you can see the cracks in the stone, the weak points, and it scares you. It’s a good reminder though, that he is human, he is just a man under the uniform, muscles, and temper. 

This morning has been an eye-opening experience for you. Shortly after you had gotten up and made the bed in the guest room, someone had rung the doorbell. You answered it only because you saw it was the thin, well-dressed woman you had seen at Search Bloc a couple months before. Julianna, you remembered, was her name. You opened the door to her, introduced yourself and invited her inside. Surprisingly, she accepted the invitation. Not sure what to do next, you offered to make some coffee and she accepted that invitation as well. 

The two of you had sat at the small kitchen table and she had poured out her grief at her current situation. Even though Horacio had been horribly drunk, he had managed to tell you everything Julianna was now saying. She had come over to collect Horacio so that they could break the news together to the two children. You tell her that Horacio isn’t feeling well, not exactly a lie, that is why you’ve come over to check on him. But the task that she has been handed is a heavy one so you offer to go home, shower, get into uniform, and complete the task yourself if she’s agreeable. She grabbed ahold of your hands so tightly your knuckles are still slightly sore from the desperation in her grip. 

You have no idea how people can make a living out of having to inform families that their loved one isn’t coming home anymore. Having to look into the innocent eyes of two children and tell them that their father won’t ever walk through the door again, tuck them into bed, be there for milestones, was one of the hardest things you’ve ever had to do. You had kept it together during the delivering of the news, the goodbye with Julianna and the parting hug you gave her before returning to Horacio’s home. But it’s as you're emptying the coffee pot and refilling it that the tears do come. This is how Horacio finds you a few minutes later, sobbing over fresh coffee grounds in the kitchen. He takes over for you, completing the preparation and turning on the coffee pot before directing his attention to you.

“Querida.” 

The term of endearment is said with such sadness but understanding. He hesitantly slips his arms around you and you immediately mold yourself against him. You bury your face in the space where his neck meets his shoulder, you inhale the fresh scent of soap and aftershave. He smells like himself now, no longer of whiskey and despair, and you try to get even closer to him by pressing your hands into his broad shoulder blades. He feels so solid, strong and protective. 

 Julianna has lost this particular kind of comfort. You have not and you’re determined to not waste any moment that you’re given with him now. You try to stop your tears, or at least slow them down, and take in a deep breath. “I’m sor-” 

“No, mi amor,” he cuts you off. “I’m sorry.” 

Mi amor. Hearing that familiar term of endearment only creates more tears. Could this entire debacle be redeemed? You remember how it felt last night when he reached for you, pulled you close, buried his face against your stomach and told you that he loved you. You remember starting to say it back to him. You had cried yourself to sleep last night, believing that the moment of confessing your feelings has been lost. 

Maybe…maybe it hasn’t been. 

“Te amo, Horacio.” 

You feel his arms tighten around you as his lips brush against your ear. “Te amo, mi vida,  mi alma.” 

[jolapeno]

the games we play

Javier Peña x F!Reader

wc: 4k warnings: angst, ex-lovers back to lovers, one bed trope, alludes to smut, but no actual smut, set in narcos season two. summary: He welcomes every touch, every dig of your nail and every placement of your palm. He takes every minute you give him as they turn into hours.  written for @wildemaven and @wildemaven-prompts week 8 [this was meant to be short, i don't know what happened] javier peña masterlist

Sometimes, the heat in Colombia is gentle. 

He has found there can be a breeze, a small break from the sun’s touch. It blows against his shirt and swings against the skirts of dresses. 

Other times, it’s not so gentle. It can be stifling, and suffocating. It lays itself thickly on top of the weight of catching Escobar, bearing down on the uncomfortable tension from being beside someone he’s trying to avoid. 

It makes things worse. 

Tense. Unbearable. 

Like it is today, where the heat and the day have been testing him. Hanging over them, making even breathing strenuous, not allowing him to think straight, and causing his logic and reason to be difficult to grasp.

But then, being around you makes holding onto many things difficult. Made worse by the fact you’re only speaking to him when necessary. Memories of their argument flitting in and out, a constant reminder like a foot on his neck—pressing its weight down more and more. 

Boni— Do not touch me, do not look at me. Actually. Keep out of my way, Peña. I don’t… I don’t want to see you, never mind hear you. 

He’s frustrated—angry. The lead they’d been sent for had fizzled into dust and ash by the time the plane had even lifted off. Leaving them with nothing when they landed. Just some files, misty assumptions and corruption—things he could have examined behind his desk on base. 

Now, the two of you are stuck here. 

The storm brewing in the sky, darkening in the distance—ruining his chance of getting home, away from you. 

It’s why he’s been running his thumb over his two fingers—the other hand massaging the side of his skull. Desperate to ease the tension in his head, the dull ache he has from fighting all his normal reactions.

Your perfume has been wearing him down further. Intensifying in the heat and humidity the storm is causing, all prickling and ready to crash over the city. 

It’s not that one he’s worried about, it’s the one crackling between the two of you. 

It takes more than what he has left, to block it out, to pretend he’s unfazed. 

Normally, he’s happy to be off base. To be in any bed that isn’t that one. But, it’s needling him that he’s here for another night, sitting in failure, knowing there’s nothing he can do about it. From all angles, he is confronted with his mistakes—the dwindling leads, the choices he’s made, and the way he’s hurt you. 

Each time you allow your eyes to meet his, he sees it. Dancing, ever so gently in your irises, even if you try to blink them away. 

He hears you sigh. Hears it over his thoughts, his faux ignorance and forced focus. Having spent more energy than he likes on trying to keep cool, avoid what you’re saying—very quickly, and very fucking loudly—and the feeling of the beads of sweat which pool at the base of his spine. 

If he’s uncomfortable, he can’t envision you are faring much better. Your trousers are tightly fitted, cupping your curves to the point it’s been distracting. Your blouse, though elegant and flowing in places, is also long-sleeved—as if by covering as much skin as possible, he wouldn’t want to look at you. 

Not realising it’s your eyes and smile he fell for first. 

Not that you’re talking to him. In a way, it’s a blessing. He doesn’t need to scramble for an answer, bathe it in politeness before he shoots it your way. He can be sharp and bitter in his mind. Like he had been when you’d mentioned finding a motel to stay the night in. 

You’d apologised to him in English—as if all of this had been your fault—that he would have to stay around you for another day. Something knotting inside of him, desperately wanting to claw out and tell you that he likes being around you, and doesn’t want your apologies. 

He doesn’t say that. He said nothing. 

Now you’re trying to find them a room. Lifting his head, allowing himself a glance at you through his brows, watching as your hand lands on your hip as you continue to question and plead. 

Occasionally, he lets himself hone in on the odd word. Spanish rolling from your tongue with such ease. On any other day, he’d hang off your every word. Now, he tries to block you out as much as possible, fearing the way his mind conjures memories of sounds you made. The sweet ones only he pulled from you. 

The ones he no longer deserves. 

It’s why he hides from you, and buries himself away in a cave of his own making to keep a handle on himself and not ruin whatever is left between you both.  

He’s only just got you back as his colleague. Only just being able to talk to him about work without looking like you’re about to implode. 

Again, not that he blames you. He replays it, turning it over the fight. It flashes like lightning across his thunderous thoughts, clouded images of your sad face that twisted into fury, how your words slowly began to cut, laced with blades.  

Fuck you, Peña. I didn’t ask for this—I knew, I knew you’d do this. And you promised me you wouldn’t hurt me, and yet… you did, you have. 

His thumb slides over the pads of his fingers, catching the calluses and the healed scars. He keeps going, churning your words, over and over, not sure if he’ll be ever able to burn them from his mi—

“Javi…”

Opening his eyes, he finds you. 

Your fingers holding his arm, his own slowly unpeeling themselves from his skull. 

“I… I’ve been calling you for a minute.” 

Javi. You haven’t called him that for a while. Having chosen to call him Peña or fucker—and if necessary, Javier. Javi is what you called him before. When the two of you blurred the lines of colleagues and stepped close to being something more. 

Something he couldn’t give you. Something he tore in two because, of course, he did. 

Tilting your head, you frown, little creases in an otherwise smooth pool. “You good?” 

He drops his hand, half expecting your fingers to fall from him. But they remain. 

Not on the part covered by his short sleeve, but his skin. Skin that he is sure is already warm, but with you touching him, feels like an inferno. Your little prints burning into him, reminding him you’re solid, real—not a fantasy his mind had cruelly conjured to taunt him. 

Rubbing his arm, you offer a smile. “We’re both tired—our flight isn’t for a while, and this place has one room. So.”

You’re too fucking good for me, Bonita.  Yeah, Peña. I fucking am. Yet, here I am and here you are. I shouldn’t be.  Javi, what is going off… why are you here, why are you picking a fight with me, why are you hurting me for the sake of hurting me?

His silence is making it worse. 

He can feel it, see it. How there’s ripples under your mask. Concern bubbling to the surface, making things for him also float to the top. The need to make you smile, to make you laugh—to put you at ease and keep you safe. 

Javi has had those thoughts since the moment he first talked to you. Your spark and fire caught him by surprise, the way you wiggled your hips as you left him at the coffee machine rendering him more than useless. 

If they’re going to be able to survive the night, he has to bury it all. Stuff it so far down, swallowing back everything. It takes a lot to fill his lungs because of it, the air burning his throat as does so, keeping his eyes on you.

Forcing a twist of his lips, he stares into your eyes. Boldly. Maybe too boldly. “You trying to get me to bed, Bonita?” 

You scoff, slowly dropping your hand from his skin, holding the key up in the other. “No. But, knowing you, I know that wouldn’t be hard.”

He feels the space before he truly notices it. How you’d taken a step back, allowing air to flood between you both like a barricade. Then you turn, giving him your back as you jolt your head in the direction of the room. 

He’d looked past the bright pink, looked past the rusting railings because he had envisioned there would be two beds. 

Not exactly imagining in all the Spanish you’d been spitting that you’d have asked for one bed. 

But, there wasn’t. There wasn’t even a couch. Nothing. Just one double bed, two puffed pillows and a folded towel swan at the bottom. 

The room itself isn’t nice either. Bright shades and fuchsia pinks, all matching the chipped wooden door and the horrid railings outside. A part of him wonders why he thought it would be better inside. 

You brush past him, placing your bag down on the end of the bed. If you mind about the room, you say nothing.

Not about the soaring heat, the one bed or that you’re now sharing a room with him. He wants to ask, ensure you’re comfortable—that you don’t mind him being here. 

Not entirely sure what he’d do if you said no. 

You’ve only just begun talking to him directly, and not through Steve. Steve who had warned him and he hadn’t listened. “She’s good, Javi. Don’t fuckin’ ruin it by being you”. And he had. Trapping Steve in the middle until you begun to wear thin with Chinese whispers. It took so long, he almost forgot how to speak when you finally were able to string a sentence together without looking close to stabbing him. 

Javi knows he only has himself to blame. He’s aware of it—feeling it thrumming around him, whether or not your eyes cut into him. 

Look, you don’t want me, that’s fine. I’m a big fucking girl. But you don’t get to sniff around like some wounded fuck because someone else does. You don’t get to turn up when I’m enjoying myself and ruin it. 

If anything, Javi is used to making things worse in his personal life. He knows that he’s good with his hands, but not his words. That if you asked he could build you furniture, or put up a shelf; he knows how to please you, pull noises and expressions from you with his tongue alone. If he wasn’t so broken, he could be good for you. Not good enough, but be good. 

But, he isn’t. 

“You need the bathroom?” 

He looks up, finding you holding a smaller bag. “N-no. You go ahead.” 

You nod, motioning past him as he clears his throat. Wiping his bottom lip, he adds, “Look, tonight you have the bed—“

“Or, we can be adults and you can share a bed with me…” 

He swallows, watching you pause at the bathroom door, standing a little taller. 

Something he’s noticed you do more and more, having not been able to take his eyes off you. Not that he ever really has, since he met you. Watching the way you move around, the way you purposefully avoid even the space he’s in.

Fuck, you were maddening. Beautifully maddening to the point now, when he couldn’t have you, you have consumed everything. 

He deserves it, deserves worse—he deserves poisonous words and sharper glares. 

Now, though, you aren’t giving him that. Your look is more gentle. One he used to get, before…

“Peña, do you want this to be even more unbearable… and if you want to punish yourself, fine, sleep on the floor,” you sigh, swallowing the rest of your words as you lift your shoulders. “But, I’m not asking you to. If you want to be an adult, share the damn bed with me.”

His lips twitch, his hands moving to his hips. “You sure… about sharing the bed?” 

You offer a small smile, one that’s forced, but still there. “You know I don’t bite.” 

“You do kick, though.” 

You laugh, sharp—almost blending perfectly with a puff of air. “Don’t you forget it, either.”

“Wouldn’t dare, Bon…”

He lets the words trail off. The pet name he calls you comes too easily to his tongue. Dissolving into the air, feeling your eyes wash over him before the click of the bathroom door sounds. 

He can smell your shampoo. It’s that which stirs him from his sleep. 

He peers from the corner of his eyes, noticing the room is still smothered in half-darkness—the motel lighting blaring through the shit, thin curtains. 

The scent continues to tickle his nose. It’s a small respite from the smell of spice from the room service hours ago. The food hanging as heavy in the air as it made him feel when he consumed it. 

It takes a second, maybe a second too long, to realise you’re curled into him. He feels your breath dancing along his chest, realising his arm is around you, keeping you in place—chin on top of your head, just like the two of you have done with ease before. 

Just like the first time, your bodies betrayed you both then, as they are now. 

You stained him, imprinted on him. Made it easier to sleep, your warmth has never been too much, but always the perfect amount. Your head is never too heavy, but a weight he welcomes. And has missed. 

Get in the car.  No, fuck you. You’re the one who said this wasn’t serious. Bonita, get in the—  You have no right, Javi. Take your chivalry and your car, and go fuck yourself. 

He feels you move your hips closer, brushing over his other hand. It allows him, without trying, to fan his fingers more over your hip. Feeling the softness of your skin, the curve of you—his fingers lightly, and gently squeezing. 

It’s experimental, full of unsureness. Something he’s never known for, but you make him a wreck. 

Make him question things. Make him want things he’s not craved in a long time. 

So he begins sliding his fingers over your hip, unsure if you’re awake. The thin oversized tee you’re sporting is the only barrier from your chest being flush against his, raised above your hip, his fingers catching the hem of it occasionally. 

He should put space between the two of you. Should unfurl himself from you before you wake and realise what is happening. 

Before he sees that look in your eye. The one a perfect blend of ice and betrayal—topped off with a slice of hurt. He breaks good things, he’s realised. He doesn’t deserve nice souls and a person waiting for him. He’s impatient, selfish and… making so many wrong decisions. 

It’s why he hasn’t challenged it, your decision. 

Why he stood and said nothing when you hurled abuse at him in the street. He took each verbal punching, knowing the things he’s doing—knowing the danger he’d have been putting you in. 

That night, when you didn’t answer. You weren’t at Steve’s were you? Were you?  No. 

He’s been haunted by you outside of work, not just in it. Images of you, scarlet staining your clothes, limbs bent in ways they should never be. Either that or you appear in his head when he’s in the shower, when his hand is on someone else’s bare hip, frustrated they don’t feel or sound like you, frustrated he can’t finish because he misses you. Misses how good you feel, how you make him feel. 

Javi has spent more energy trying to fuck you from his system than he had done trying to keep you in it originally. Something he is more aware of right now, than he was on all the other lonely nights.

It’s why he doesn’t dare move, almost afraid as to what he’ll be confronted with if he wakes you. If your eyes would be murderous, burning a new print for him to hang in the misery museum he’s forged in his head. 

Whether they’d be soft… almost worrying if they’d be welcoming, not sure he’ll be able to be selfless and noble again. 

He should remove his hand. He should place the blanket, which neither of you wants to have over you, firmly between you. Barricade himself from you, stop you from falling and him being unable to catch you. 

Your breath dances over his chest, and he strokes ever so slightly on your hip. 

“Is now when you’d want me to bite, Javi?”

Your voice is a whisper. 

But he hears them as clear as if you’d shouted them. 

You let them land before you lift your face from his neck. You’re so close, the gap so minimal, so easy to close. 

He tenses, for the briefest moment, because of it.

“Bonita…”

“Kiss me, Javi.” 

He has you on your back before his name is even in the air, crashing his lips against yours, hearing the surprised muffled sound bleeding out from between both of your mouths. 

It unlocks it, everything he’s stuffed into the box in his chest. His hand sliding up your neck to grip your jaw, the bed groaning as he leans down over you, kissing you desperately—needing to make up for all the minutes he didn’t. He devours, he thirsts, and he wants all at once as he slides his hand up your thigh, lifting it over his hip. 

Thankfully you pull him close, tight—leaving no space for question or doubt. Your hands loop around the back of his neck, nails scratching at the base of his hair as your thighs press against his hips. 

His teeth run along your jaw, the tip of his tongue leaving evidence of his path. Your soft murmurs, pleases and Javi’s circling around the two of you. 

All he can think is: you taste like sweet, sugar and goodness. It’s a juxtaposition to his smokes, to the liquor normally on his tongue. Another reminder of how good you are, the cracks you proclaim you have so minimal, he barely sees them. 

He just sees you. 

Strong, beautiful you, who has a sharper tongue than most suits; a hook that forces blue and black to spread before someone even knows they’ve been hit. You’re all brains and strategy, and yet you’re also the most intoxicating thing he’s ever undressed. 

And so, he cages you in, unwilling, and unwanting to ever let someone else taste what he gets to. Keeping you close right now as though it can undo all the times he’s taken you for granted.  

“Mine,” he whispers against your neck. 

Unmeaning to. The word escaping. Making him freeze and you tense. He’s nervous, for the billionth time when he’s with you, he’s nervous as he meets your gaze. 

What he finds isn’t shock, but slight narrowed eyes and twisted swollen lips all illuminated in a reddish-pink hue from the outside. 

Tracing your knuckles down his cheek, your back arches into him, tracing your bottom lip with your tongue. “Prove it then.” 

And he does. 

His mouth tastes every inch of you, his ears take in every noise he hadn’t been sure he’d ever hear again. He welcomes every touch, every dig of your nail and every placement of your palm. He takes every minute you give him as they turn into hours. 

But, what he savours is the way you beg for more, how you chant his name. How your hand holds his jaw, muffling your moans against his lips as he fills you—feeling pride ballooning in his chest as you moan his name over and over again. 

Javi isn’t sure how much sleep the two of you manage. Not that he cares, and not that you’re complaining either. He groans when you slide from his arms, the sun rearing its ugly head through the curtains.

You smirk, and it does something to him as you begin getting ready. Something which makes him want to throw back the sheets and put you on your back again.

But you must read him—see right into his head. Not that he fights you to stay out. 

“We have a flight to catch.” 

“We still have time.” 

“Not the way we do it, we don’t.” 

So he relents. Choosing instead to watch you. Take in every glimpse of you he can get. Watching as you style and dress in the mirror, eyes occasionally meeting him as he feels himself smile. 

He wants to suggest not leaving, for a moment not wanting to entertain what goes off outside of these walls. He could rip up the tickets for their flights and keep the room for another night. Avoid the issues back where they work. The pressure, Escobar… Los Pepes. 

Javi doesn’t do that. Moving closer to you, half-wanting to just pull you close. Feel the way you fit against him, how perfect you do. 

He runs his hand down your wrist, wrapping his fingers around the strap of your bag. Lingering in your space, watching your lips curl, seeing the outline of himself in your lusting eyes as he presses you against the wall. 

“Javi…” 

“We have time, Bonita. I promise,” he whispers in Spanish, dropping your bag softly as he slides his hands around your hips. 

You don’t fight him. 

Sliding your arms around his neck, lips ghosting over his before you blink—and something shifts. 

“Javi… Look, before we get back and things… get complicated. I don’t want more from you than we can both give. My job, I love my job, Javi. I know you do too, I know you need to catch him...”

It’s changing, switching up in front of him. 

“What are you saying?” 

It comes out more defensive—tense. Suddenly feeling you're slipping through his fingers, for reasons far out of his control. For reasons he hasn't even caused.

He watches as you bite the inside of your cheek. “I don’t want you to bring me coffee, I don't want dinners and... I just want the us we were before, without the…”

You’re stressed. He can feel it. It vibrates in the air until he smooths his fingers over your cheek, soothing you in the only way he can.

“It’s okay…”

“I want to be yours, Javi. But, I don’t want us to change, not while we have things to do.” 

Placing his hand on your hip, he watches as your lips twitch. 

His pulse quickens, watching you take a heavy breath. “I know we don’t have more to give one another until he’s caught. And I’m okay with that. As long as…”

It trails off, your words. Your eyes glare as if you can burn the unspoken words in without needing to say them. 

He make you feel good, Bonita? Did he— You don’t get to act jealous when you were cock deep in a whore when I needed you, Javier. 

“Long as, what, Bonita?” 

You avert your eyes.

And he knows before you ask. He remembers it. Recalls seeing the number of missed calls and realising that you’d needed him. The hurt on your face, the look in your eyes.  

“Please don’t fuck any more whores. You called me yours last night, Javi. So don’t—“

“Only if you don’t go on any more dates with fuckers who don’t deserve you,” he says, fingers under your chin as he lifts your eyes back. 

Please. He adds with his eyes. 

You hold his gaze, slowly nodding before you softly smile. One he likes to think is all his. It holds his attention when it’s there, lighting him up, and spreading warmth through him.  

Both sitting in silent agreement, his fingers softening on your chin as he draws a line with his thumb. 

“If we do this, you and me, there can’t be secrets between us. Not like before.” 

Something twists inside of him. 

“I was the one who stole your cigarettes,” you confess, his eyes narrowing teasingly, as you pout. 

He kisses you, soft, and gentle. “I’ll forgive you.” 

“Your turn, is there anything you need to tell me before we leave?”

His face blanks—empties. The bundle of secrets swirl in his stomach, knotting around organs and guilt and the salty chips and chocolate from last night. 

For a moment, he thinks about it. Spilling all of it out, poisoning the moment and ruining what the two of you have only just managed to rebuild. His lips part ever so slightly, almost allowing the acidic ball in his throat to escape. It's all set to slip out and greet your ears. 

But he swallows it. Hides it. 

Shaking his head, he leans his forehead against yours. “Only that I’ve missed you, Bonita.”

Your hand clutches his cheek, cupping him gently. “I’ve missed you too, Javi.” 

[tropic-havens]

The frangipani tree, called tipanie in French Polynesia, takes its name from the Italian perfumer frangipani who invented a fragrance similar to the flower of this tree. In addition, to have an intoxicating scent, the flowers of tipanie, in various colors, are magnificent.

The first frangipani trees took root in Tahiti in 1852 thanks to the nurseryman Mr. Abadie, originally from Valparaiso. It is the Plumeria genus which is the most widespread in the fenua. It has several varieties whose origins come from Central America, Mexico, Cuba and Colombia.

The origin of its common name, frangipani, is the subject of several explanations. We have retained the story of the perfumer Frangipani. In the 12th century, the Italian Frangipani made a highly appreciated perfume that European explorers found four centuries later when they arrived in the Caribbean on this tree. The name of the perfumer is then simply attributed to the tree.

In Polynesia, the tipanie is used to make very fragrant neck or head crowns.

Flowering all year round, but more particularly from October to November, the tipanie produces magnificent flowers with five petals. The flower has an intoxicating fragrance. There are several varieties producing single or two-tone, white, yellow, pink, yellow or red flowers and even a dark garnet that is highly sought after by Tahitian mamas.

Recognized for its olfactory properties, the frangipani flower is used in perfumery in the form of an absolute. As a top, middle or base note, it brings an exotic, honeyed and almondy component to cosmetic products. In Asia, the infusion of tipanie flowers is applied to the body after bathing for its pleasant fragrance and its invigorating action.

[bullet-prooflove]

Have You Ever Been In Love? - Horacio Carrillo x Reader

Tagging: @616wilsons@mysun-n-stars@xmoonknightlyx@nessamc@crazy4chickennuggets@annetje@mysoulisasunflower@littleone65@thesandbeneathmytoes@glorieux92@supersanelyromantic@mirabee1@kabloswrld@xoxabs88xox@nunita20 @jesuisvenus24 @sideeye123 @mydarkestsecretlol @evee87 @adesertdaydream

It was your eyes that Horacio fell in love with, and of course the way that beautiful carefree grin of yours that lit up his world even in the darkest of days. There was a bleakness in his life before you. He was divorced, married to his job, committed to Escobar. There hadn’t been space for anything else. Yet somehow you made space. He didn’t understand it, he couldn’t.

It was almost a seduction. One that you didn’t realise you were complicit in.

There was an attraction, there was no doubt about that. He had encountered beautiful women before, but you were different. He coveted your kindness, your ability to keep your compassion despite the horrors you saw. You were dogged in your pursuit of the Narcos, he admired your determination and feared for your life because for you this war was personal.

The two of you had discussed your brother, the one that had been back in Miami. The job was meant to be a short-term thing, moving cocaine from one place to another. They’d found him with a bullet in his head outside a bar called The Rabbit Hole. Your mother had passed a way soon after, from a broken heart they said. You kept a picture of the two of them in your desk drawer.

He knew of your reputation back in the states. You had torn the truth from Joshua’s friends, eviscerated their lies and left them bleeding in the dirt from their guilt. You were furious, tenacious. You had chased down suppliers and dismantled their operations, you had made yourself a problem.

Hence why you had been shipped off to Colombia. You wanted to wage a war on drugs, and you’d gotten that in abundance.

You sat across from him, your face highlighted by the glow from the lamp on his desk. You were smoking one of his cigarettes, a glass of his whiskey in your hand as the two of you sat in silence listening to the song on the vintage record player, that had been passed down by his father. He knew your grasp on the language was tenuous. You tried but you had no head for languages.

“It’s about falling in love.” He told you, leaning against the desk.

Your clothing brushed against his as you stood up. You leaned in close to stub out the cigarette in the black ashtray on his desk. He inhaled your perfume. The scent of frankincense and peonies, the undercurrent of night-time air as it gave way to the morning light.

“Have you ever been in love Colonel?” You asked him.

Horacio considered the question. His marriage had been one of convenience instead of passion. There had been a comfort in the domesticity. With you it was different, it was yearning and desire, the reckless surge of a wildfire erupting through his veins. He didn’t answer, instead he inclined his head towards you, his dark eyes meeting yours.

“Have you?”

There was a complicity in the silence, his gaze lowered to your lips before his arm wrapped around your waist drawing you close. The song changed to something softer, an acoustic guitar and the drawl of a man who had lost his heart. The two of you started to sway, a gentle motion as his palm came to rest upon your lower back, thumb trailing over the that sensitive spot that sent a thousand tiny sparks prickling across your skin.

“You asked if I had ever been in love?” he murmured, his lips brushing over yours with the tenderest of kisses. “The answer is no, not until I met you.”

Love Horacio Carrillo? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[tropes-and-tales]

Take You Home

December 3:  Shopping/Snow - Undercover (Horacio Carrillo x F!reader)

(From the winter prompts by the lovely @youvebeenlivingfictional​, found here)

CW:  Convoluted plot; barely any snow (sorry); slightly angsty; talk of past sexy-times; nothing explicit but 18+ anyway to be safe, I dunno, I’m not the MPAA.

Word Count:  1670

AN:  There is a sequel, found here!

AN2:  Requested by anon!

It was his idea, so he can’t complain about it now:  send two DEA agents undercover to help route out a key distributor linking Escobar to the United States.  Cut off the demand, Carrillo thinks, and disrupt the system a bit.

It was his idea, so he has to bite his tongue.  One of the DEA agents, a man named Perez, is based out of Miami, unknown to him but vouched for by Murphy.  Solid, used to UC work.  The second agent, though?

Well, the world of the narcos turns the same as any other rich and powerful sphere, so Perez is paired up with you.  You’re young and you can pass for the trophy girlfriend of an ambitious and ruthless dealer who wants to set up a route into the eastern seaboard of the United States.  Besides, you’ve been stationed in Colombia for a year now, and you can help while you play out the fantasy of being vapid eye-candy.

It was Colonel Carrillo’s idea, this UC ploy, so he has to swallow down the sick fear that bubbles in his guy when you leave to meet up with Perez.  

Carrillo can’t even talk to Javi or Steve about it.  His thing with you—undefined, casual—is also unacknowledged, a secret thing.  When you wave goodbye to them and leave without a backwards glance, Carrillo has to keep his expression stony to keep up the ploy.

Waiting for you and Perez to make contact and ingratiate yourselves with one of Escobar’s lieutenant…it’s the longest three months of Carrillo’s life.

-----

The next time he sees you, he almost doesn’t recognize you.  

Three months with no contact beyond the handful of words from your handler, and Carrillo is practically climbing the walls with worry.  But when he finally catches sight of you through the window of the surveillance outpost, he can finally breathe a sigh of relief.

It’s you polished to a high shine:  designer dress hugging your curves, designer shoes adding height to you and pushing your ass into a perfect heart shape.  Hair and makeup perfectly done as you climb out of the hired car and gather up an armful of glossy shopping bags from the designer boutiques of Buenos Aires.

Carrillo knows he should like you like this.  Isn’t this the fantasy, a beautiful woman whose only job is to look perfect, an ornament to adorn the arm of her rich and powerful man?

But he doesn’t like it.  There’s something brittle about your beauty like this, something inelastic and ugly under the slick veneer.  

Maybe it’s because he’s seen you as the opposite:  grimy and sweaty from running across Medellín with your gun drawn.

Maybe it’s because he’s had you as the opposite:  not salon-perfect hair but your ponytail gripped in his fist, damp with sweat.  No manicured nails but your ragged, gnawed down nails biting into the meat of his shoulders.  No expensive perfume but just the scent of you, smoky and bitter gunpowder, the fruity gum you chew, the clean smell of your soap.

It’s only a glimpse of you now.  You carry your shopping bags into the rented penthouse where you and Perez are staying, and then you are out of sight.

-----

The bust is planned:  a week later in the Chilean Andes at a ski resort that is playing at being a sort of South American Aspen.  It’s full of expats and LATAM people alike, the same because they have too much money to know what to do with.  For some, like who you and Perez are playing at being, it’s ill-gotten money.  Blood money.

Carrillo greases the skids with the Chilean government, works with their local force to help secure the villa where you and Perez are staying.  Where Escobar’s lieutenant, the one they call El Toro, is meeting you to finalize plans for a new distribution network.

-----

He knows the DEA gives out awards for bravery, for excellence in the field, but Carrillo thinks they should hand one out for acting—because you fucking nail your role in the third act.

When they bust into the villa, you shriek.  You clasp your hands over your ears at the yelling, at the sudden noise.  You reach for Perez (a gesture that makes Carrillo’s jealousy flare up, questioning if you’ve grown too close to your UC partner in these months), and when Murphy points his gun at you, you start to cry.

Carrillo’s never seen you cry before.  He’s seen you teared up and close to it—bleary-eyed from exhaustion, tears threatening after a civilian gets caught up in the war with the narcos.  But never full-on crying, and it makes his protective hackles go up.  He fights the urge to go to you.  He has to keep up the façade.

“I don’t understand!” you cry at the Spanish flying around you.  “What’s happening?”

“You’re under arrest, that’s what’s happening,” Javi helpfully tells you in English, and the fresh torrent of wails is so pitch perfect, so natural that you could win the Oscar if you took your talents to Hollywood.

-----

It’s a long night:  they lead the men away first, including Perez.  You make a final swan song by calling out to your pretend-boyfriend, telling him you love him.  The Chileans take the low level thugs to for their own processing—it was the deal Carrillo cut with them, a boost to their own fight against the narcos, a bit of good publicity to their ongoing success.

El Toro is put on a plane back to Colombia.  Perez is put on a plane back to Colombia too, in theory, though he’s really on his way to States for his debriefing and his return to his normal life.

Javi cuffs you to keep of the charade as the men are filed out of the room, and you slump against the couch as you watch them.  Your makeup is ruined from your histrionics—sooty black mascara runs down your cheeks, and your coral-colored lipstick is smeared at one corner of your lips.  Still, Carrillo can barely get enough of the sight of you.  He catches you out of his peripherals, tries not to openly stare and only half-succeeds.

It’s Javi that helps you up off the couch.  Still cuffed, still playing along in case anyone is lingering outside and catches a glimpse of the would-be narcos’s girlfriend, he hoists you up by gripping your upper arm.  He starts to frog-march you out of the villa, but Carrillo steps in finally.  Unable to let another moment pass without touching you, he gives Javi a terse nod and takes your other arm in his.  He leads you out of the room and to the waiting Jeep.

There’s a handful of voyeurs, workers and guests alike standing in the parameter.  Watching.  Some may be taking notes.  So Carrillo shoves you forward lightly, mutters sorry from behind his clenched teeth as you stumble in your heels in the crust of snow and cry out—which pulls some jeers and taunts from the assembled crowd, so at least it’s a good show.

-----

He gets you into the backseat and gets down the side of the mountain.  Neither of you talk beyond his own low-voiced murmur, asking if you’re okay, and you whispering back that yeah, you are fine.

There’s chatter on the radio, and he keeps his ears tuned into the talk as everyone is sorted out to where they belong:  Javi and Steve on the plane with El Toro, Perez on his way back home.  And you with Carrillo.

He keeps his eyes on the road only half of the time.  When he’s on a straightaway, he glances at you in the rearview mirror.  You have your head back against the seat, eyes shut.  You look exhausted, but he knows you aren’t sleeping.  Your face still holds its usual tension that only disappears when you’re asleep.

Once off the mountain, he pulls off onto the side of the road.  He scans the area—there’s no one around.  The handful of buildings at the base of the mountain are dark, quiet.  He climbs out of the driver’s seat and opens your door.

Your eyes are open now, and you fix him with an unreadable expression.  He shrugs out of his jacket and lays it over your shoulders, and when you lean forward to let him, you press your forehead against his chest for the briefest of seconds.

He reaches out and cups your face between his hands.  It’s more tender than any touch he’s ever given you before; your coupling always had a rough, fervent edge to it.  Pulled hair, scratches, bruises the size of his fingertips mottling your hips and waist.

“Are you okay?” he asks again, and he peers into your eyes to see if you lie to him.  See if you pull on your tough-girl act and joke away any pain or fear or discomfort.

Three months away from everything familiar.  Three months on edge, waiting to be discovered.  Waiting for a bullet to end your life, but you know the narcos all too well—it’s never just a bullet.

“I’m tired,” you whisper back to him and he can see the truth in your words.  And he can see the larger truth too:  the tears that fill your eyes, how you try to blink them away before they fall in earnest.

“I’ve got you,” he replies, and he does.  He pulls you into an awkward hug, gently presses your face back against him.  He can feel your hitching breaths, how you’re trying to hide your crying, but he rubs your back. Tells you it’s fine, to let it out.  Tells you that you’re safe again.

“Let me take you home,” he says, and that’s what makes you finally break.  You shudder against him and start to sob, and he only holds you on the side of a dark road in the Andes and promises that you’re finally safe with him.