#javi x reader angst | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tightjeansjavi · 3 months

Text

knead

A/N: so after rewatching Narcos all weekend and staring at the screen with big ole heart eyes for the infamous Javier Peña, I decided that he, like Joel, deserves nice things 🤍

~word count: 1.2k~

Summary: Javier Peña desperately needs a fucking break and to be kinder to himself <3

Pairing | Javier Peña x f!reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of guns, cigarettes, implied death(s) due to an unsuccessful raid, established relationship, fluff, hurt and comfort, Javi is incredibly hard on himself, takes place during season 3 of Narcos, both Javi and the reader speak Spanish, reader has no physical descriptions, no age gap, +18 minors dni!

Lo entiendo, hermano. - I understand, brother.

No lo entiendes, hermano. Nadie lo entiende - You don’t understand, brother. No one does.

No tienes que esperarme despierta todas las noches, querida. Tu sueño es importante también, cariño. - You don’t have to wait up for me every night, querida. Your sleep is important too, baby.

Jav, yo quiero asegurarme de que has llegado bien a casa. - Jav, I always want to make sure you’re home safe

Javi, No tienes que disculparte por nada. Por favor, mi amor. - Javi, please don’t apologize for this. Please, my love.

Siempre tan bueno conmigo - Always good to me

Te quiero con todo lo que pueda ofrecerte, cariño - I love you with everything that I have to offer, cariño

Te quiero más a ti, Jav - I love you most, Jav.

When he comes home, he’s still in his olive green tac vest. His hair is strewn about in a sweaty mess across his face. He reeks of gunpowder, stale tobacco, and disappointment. It drips from his pores and lands in a puddle at his shoes, once shiny, now dull, scuffed and speckled in blood. A failed raid. Innocence lost, and disappointment. So much fucking dissapointment that swallows Javier Peña alive.

An anonymous tip leading to more fucking bloodshed. So much for things being done differently this time around.

A hero? Hardly.

Javier doesn’t feel like a hero. Not when all he’s done is failed over, and over again.

We’ll get them next time, Javier.

Will we?

Of course. You know the Cali Cartel like it’s the back of your hand, Peña. We’re this much closer to bringing them to justice.

Justice? He laughs. If there was any justice in this world, I would be in fucking jail right now.

Lo entiendo, hermano.

Javier laughs, voice rasped in bitterness. He swings his keys around on his pointer finger, jaw ticked, muscles aching beneath the sweat stained fabric of his shirt.

No lo entiendes, hermano. Nadie lo entiende. Javier responds coldly and unlocks his car door before climbing into the driver seat.

He thinks hard on his failure the entire drive home. He doesn’t listen to the radio. He sits in silence, puffing away on a stress cigarette even though he swore he was trying to quit.

In the lowlight from the hallway, Javier is able to make out your sleeping mass under the colorful patterned quilt on his couch. He swings the door shut softly behind him and quietly locks it.

His back and shoulders are tense, aching with each step he takes. Another jab and painful reminder of his failure tonight.

Despite Javier’s protests, you always wait for him to return home. He appreciates this more than you realize. It’s his one sense of comfort that he feels he’s undeserving of.

No tienes que esperarme despierta todas las noches, querida. Tu sueño es importante también, corazón.

Jav, yo quiero asegurarme de que has llegado bien a casa.

The worn couch cushions gradually press down from the weight of his body as he slowly sits down in the unoccupied space between your covered feet. He winces when he feels that annoying pinch in his lower back and brings his hands over his face, dragging them down over his alquine nose with a heavy sigh. He pulls out his gun, badge, cigarettes, and lighter. He tosses them onto the coffee table and leans back just as you begin to stir awake from the sound.

“Jav?” You murmur softly and subconsciously reach for him over the blanket.

“Its me, cariño.” He rasps. His hand reaches towards you in the dark, finding you soon after. He laces his fingers through yours.

“Are you okay?” You ask softly, sitting up and facing him.

“No. I’m not okay.” He admits.

“What happened?”

He looks over at you through the darkness and shrugs his shoulders. “What didn’t happen.” He clarifies. His thumb skates across the back of your hand gently.

“Do you want to talk about it?..”

“No. I just..I’m tired, querida. I’m tired of failing all the fucking time.” He sounds exhausted. You know just how much his job truly weighs on him.

“Javier, my love, you are not failing all the time. You aren’t. No one thinks that you are a failure, Jav.”

He makes a snuffling sound through his nose that comes across more like a scoff. His movements cease when he feels your freehand grasp his jaw and pull him in close. Even in the dark, your eyes are soft, gentle, and laced with concern.

“Everyone tells me that I’m a hero, cariño. I’m not a hero. I’ve never been a hero.”

“Javi, you don’t have to be a hero. People mean well with their words. I know they do, but you have to try and not let it get to you this much. Okay? Javier, you have one of the toughest jobs out there. No one but yourself is going to understand how you feel. Whatever happened tonight, does not make you a terrible person, or a failure. You’re doing everything you can to take down the Cali Cartel.” You reassure him.

“I feel like I have to be the hero. Javier Peña, the dashing DEA agent that took down Pablo Escobar.” He laughed. “Cariño, I was told that this time things would be different, but they were wrong. Everytime I try to ensure that innocent lives won’t be lost, someone gets caught in a crossfire. A civilian. A child. An unsuspecting bystander. It weighs on me. It fucking weighs on me more than I’m willing to admit.” He said in an exasperated tone.

You saw the tears begin to brew along his waterline before he even realized he was crying. You detected the strain in his voice, and sprung into action. Your hand dropped from his face only to then pull him into a hug with your hand gently cradling the back of his head and your fingers slipping through his hair, nails scratching his scalp gently in hopes to soothe him.

His arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his lap so he could be closer to you. His warm palms slid under the thin fabric of your shirt along your lower back and he buried his face into the crook of your neck.

“I’m sorry.” He sniffled. “I don’t want you to see me like this, cariño.”

“Javi, No tienes que disculparte por nada. Por favor, mi amor.”

“You’re so good to me.” He kisses the exposed skin on your neck, the tips of his mustache tickles you as you hug him tightly, rubbing your hands up and down his back and shoulders in a soothing motion.

“And you’re good to me, Javier. Siempre tan bueno conmigo.”

He nuzzles you affectionately, wishing he could crawl inside of you and live there forever. “Cariño, can you do something for me?” He asks softly, dragging his lips across your skin once more.

“Anything, Jav.”

“My back and shoulders are fucking killing me. Can you—” you cut him off before he even has a chance to finish his sentence.

“Of course I can.”

He breathes a sigh of relief through his nose “Gracias, cariño”

He slowly drops his arms from around your waist so he can remove his shirt. He undos each button with meticulous precision and slowly slides the fabric down from his forearms. He lays his shirt along the side of the couch while you slide into the space behind him, with your thighs wrapping around his torso. He leans back into your touch, lashes fluttering shut when your hands work their way up from his lower back, kneading the tender strained muscles there.

You work your way upwards and pay close attention to the areas where he’s feeling the most pain. He murmurs praises in both Spanish and English under his breath when you slowly and delicately work through a particular nasty knot between his shoulder blades.

Your gentle, yet firm touch sends the DEA agent into a state of bliss, and he’s putty in your hands in no time.

Your chin comes to rest along the crook of his shoulder, pressing a soft kiss along his jawline. He hums and tilts his head to the side, finding your lips in a gentle kiss. A thank you. An I love you, and an I appreciate you can be tasted through the kiss. He rests his hands along your thighs that are wrapped around him, gently kneading the soft flesh with his strong, yet gentle hands.

“Te quiero con todo lo que pueda ofrecerte, cariño”

You smile against his lips, kissing him deeper while your fingers gently brush through the wispy tendrils of hair along his forehead.

“Te quiero yo más, Jav.”

Banners made by the lovely @saradika 🤍

I no longer have a taglist so please follow @tightjeansjaviupdates for fic updates and notifications.

484 notes · View notes

lokischocolatefountain · 2 months

Text

Javier Peña Masterlist

Series

Married!Javi

Description: A collection of chapters where I reimagine local slut Javier Peña as a married man. My most popular series. Can be read out of order as one-shots. Full of fluff, smut, and angst.

Fraternize

(Congressman!Javi x Congresswoman!Reader)

Description: It was an open secret in Washington D.C. that Javier Peña, Congressman from Texas found her absolutely infuriating. Everyone had, at least once in their time in Congress, witnessed them bickering in the hallways, the staircase, committee rooms, outside the restroom over policy. It would be such a scandal if they found out what the two members of congress did behind closed doors to find common ground. Holdout Summary: Sometimes it was better to talk face to face than to send his lackeys to speak for him. And who knows? Maybe he’ll get a sweet deal out of it. If nothing else, she was at least a good time. Word count: 4.5k

Red Tape, Red Line

(Post Season 3 Javi x State Department Staff Reader)

Description: He’d won. Or at least that was what the ambassador had said. It was hard to feel victorious when crushed under the boot of DC bureaucracy. The job wouldn’t be finished. Not until the hearings ended. Not until he got key informants out. With his old friend nestled high up in bureaucracy, he wouldn’t complain if he got some help crossing the red tape. He sure wouldn’t complain if, in the process, they crossed some red lines. For Old Time's Sake Summary: Javier runs into an old friend in DC. Word Count: 3.4k

One-shot

I Know

Summary: They knew they shouldn’t. It was vile, it would be a betrayal. But God, they couldn’t stop themselves. Word count: 3.3k

Whiskey and Wine

Summary: He drank whiskey and she drank wine. After years of offering her the wrong drink, Javier finally buys her the right one. Word count: 4.4k

Seven

Summary: You and Javi discuss children Word count: 0.6k

Gif inspired Drabble

Summary: Javier anxiously awaits your arrival Word count: 0.6k

190 notes · View notes

thetriumphantpanda · 6 months

Text

where have all the good men gone? | javier peña

Take The Weight Off His Shoulders - Chapter Three

Chapter Summary | A date, supposed to get your mind of Javier, goes terribly, and he's the only person you can think to call that will make anything better.

Chapter Warnings | Mutual pining, slow burn, sexual tension, flirting, alcohol consumption, protective!Javi, misogynistic comments (not from Javi), (1) man being a pushy douchebag (also not Javi), swearing, mentions of the drug trade - nothing else I can think of.

Pairing | dbf!Javier Peña x F!Reader

Word Count | 3k

Authors Note | I am truly having the most fun with these two and I hope you're enjoying their story so far! Things are definitely going to be heating up soon, so please hang in there, it'll be spectacular when they finally do get spicy with each other! If you're enjoying this then comments, asks and reblogs are my lifeblood and if you'd like to support me further, please consider a donation to my Ko-Fi.

I no longer use taglists. Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs to be notified of new updates.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi | Series Playlist

“I promise he’s good fun,” Liv’s voice speaks through the phone, cradled to your ear by your shoulder as you skim through your wardrobe, “Nice, and age appropriate.” She teases.

“Shut up,” You grumble, still annoyed that you’ve allowed her to talk you into this at all, “This is still a terrible idea.”

“You were the one complaining about Javier Peña being a bad idea,” She defends herself, “And you also could have said no, too late now.”

You sigh because she’s right. You’ve been trying for the past week to convince yourself that finding someone else might make wanting Javier go away, even just a little bit. Someone your age, not entangled in your family dynamics, or at least you’re hoping anyway. Liv had suggested someone she knew from work, a nice boy, two years older than you, his head screwed on, a managerial position at work. Sensible.

“I have no idea what to wear.” You groan down the phone, there are plenty of dresses you could choose, but somehow, it feels like this person you don’t know doesn’t deserve that of you.

“Put those jeans on,” Liv speaks, crunching coming down the phone line, clearly she’s snacking like she always does, “The tight ones, makes your ass look phenomenal, and the lowest cut top you own.”

“Liv,” You chastise, “I’ve never met him before, I’m not fucking him tonight.”

“I didn’t suggest you did,” She chuckles, “Just give him a taste of what’s to come.”

“Unbelievable,” You mutter, but follow her advice anyway, pulling out a shirt that cuts low, scooping out your jeans from the drawer, “Right, I gotta go and get ready, but if this is awful, you’re entirely to blame, okay?”

“Hearing you loud and clear girl,” She chuckles, “Have fun and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Goodbye!” You chuckle, hanging up.

It’s still light out, so you opt to walk to the bar in town. It’s not all that far, and the air has cooled enough by the time you leave that it doesn’t feel too stiflingly hot. The bar is not one you would have chosen, one of the more upmarket establishments in town. You wish you could go back to your normal dive bar, with its slightly sticky floor and the smell of fried food. You give him the benefit of the doubt though, maybe he’s just trying to impress you and you can’t fault him for that, can you?

Liv told you he’d be sat at the bar in a blue shirt, and there’s only one person it can be when you get close enough, “Victor?” You ask, stood next to him.

“The one and only,” He smiles at you, standing from the barstool to give you a hug, which you allow, “You look hot.”

“Thanks,” You chuckle, sitting down on the stool next him, noticing a drink already there for you, it’s a cocktail, bright pink, and you know you’ll already hate it, and you do when you take a sip, wincing as the fruity blend moves down your throat, “Oh, it’s very sweet.”

“I thought it was a safe option, most girls love this drink.”

You’re tempted to make a comment about this clearly being his favourite place to bring his dates but you bite your tongue, working through the necessary small talk as you try and drink it as fast as you can so you can choose something you might actually enjoy.

“So, Liv told me you’re a journalist,” He comments, sipping his glass of whiskey, “What kind of things do you write?”

“I mainly cover news about the drug trade and how that affects the town.” You explain, taking the last sip of your drink, flagging the bartender down.

“Pretty morbid,” He shrugs, ordering himself another whiskey as you opt for a margarita, “Surely a girl like you should be writing about fashion or something.”

You scoff, “So I can’t write about things that are important to our town because I’m a woman?”

“No, I don’t mean it like that,” He tries to backtrack, “Just that it’s intimidating, is all, might put people off,” He chuckles then, “Although not me, like my girls with a bit of personality.”

You roll your eyes and don’t even try and hide it as you sip at your margarita, much better, you think. It carries on like that for another hour, Victor and his thinly veiled misogyny and his boring, surface level conversation. He tries at some point to put his hand on your knee, but you jerk away, moving so he can’t touch you.

“You want another?” He asks when you finish your third drink, “The night is still young.”

“No thank you,” You say, trying to be as polite as possible, “I have work tomorrow so probably best to head home.”

You try and insist that you pay for your part of the bill, but to his only credit, he insists on covering the tab but does then try and wrap his arm around your waist to walk you outside, which makes you want to hit him more than anything.

You stand next to him on the pavement outside the bar as the doors close behind you. You can still hear everyone else talking inside, but you have no idea what to do. You want to go home, but it’s dark, and you know you’d told your dad that Victor would walk you home, but you don’t want to spend another minute in his company.

“So, am I gonna get my goodnight kiss?” He asks, trying to take hold of your wrist to pull you into him.

He’s stronger than you, so he does sort of succeed in pulling you into his body, but you manage to put your palm against his chest to push him back.

“I don’t think so.” You cringe a little, trying to lean back as far as you can with his hand pulling your wrist.

“You’re joking right?” He scoffs, “I paid for your drinks, try and be interested in what you said and you’re going to refuse me?”

“Look, I don’t mean to be rude,” You speak, trying to talk the situation down, “I just don’t think this is gonna work.”

“Don’t need to tell me,” He snaps, “Such a fucking tease turning up dressed like this, but you’re really just a prude.”

“Oh fuck off man!” You try and push him again, succeeding in doing it enough for him to let go of your wrist so you can put some distance between you, “I don’t owe you shit.”

“Forget it,” He turns around and walks away, leaving you on your own, “Probably would have been a shit lay anyway.”

You’re tempted to call back but realise it’s not worth it, so you let him wander off, leaving you on the sidewalk on your own with no idea what to do now. You would walk home, but if your dad see’s you on your own, he’s going to kill you for being silly enough to walk home alone after dark, and then find Victor and kill him too for being a jerk.

You slump against the brick wall of the bar, rooting through your bag, there’s enough cash to go back in and get a drink and try and calm down a little, then, your fingers brush against the card you’d slipped in there a few days ago. The name and the number, and the few coins in the bottom of your bag, draw you to the phone box at the end of the street. You’re putting the money in and dialing before you can convince yourself it’s a silly idea.

He picks up on the third ring.

“Peña.” It’s so formal.

“Javi?” You ask, trying to keep your voice level, but ultimately failing.

“Are you okay?” Is the first thing he asks, and he sounds frantic.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine, I just-” God this seems so stupid now, mainly because you don’t want to admit you were on a date, you don’t want to make yourself seem unavailable to him, “I was on a date and it didn’t go well, he was meant to walk me home and well, I don’t want him to, but I don’t wanna call my dad.”

“He hurt you?” He seems cross, protective even, which makes your tummy flutter.

“N-no,” You sigh, “He got pushy when I wouldn’t kiss him but I’m fine.”

You can hear him shuffling around on the other end of the phone, can hear the jangle of keys, “Where are you?”

“I’m at the phone box at the end of Grant Street.” You say, you’re about to speak again when Javi beats you to it.

“Stay there, go inside a store or something and wait for me, I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay?”

“Okay,” You nod, like he can see you, “Javi?”

“Yeah, querida?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you dare,” He scoffs, “Never apologise for needing my help, okay?” You can hear the sound of his truck engine in the background, “I gotta hang up to drive, but I’ll be there soon, promise.”

“Okay,” You sniff, “Thank you.”

You can hear the dial tone before he can reply, so you hang the receiver back up and head into the liquor store on the other side of the road. You smile at the clerk, who asks if you need anything, you shake your head, tell him you’re just waiting for someone and then spend the rest of the time looking out of the window.

He’s parking up in a worryingly short amount of time, and as you walk from the store you worry that he put himself in danger driving so fast to get you. He’s opening his door and climbing down from the truck. As soon as you’re close enough, he’s got his hands on your shoulders, searching your face to make sure you’re alright.

“I’m fine Javi, I promise,” You insist, holding gently to his arms, giving him a smile, “I’ve probably overreacted.”

He lets his arm drops and signals for you to get into the truck, following swiftly, “If he made you uncomfortable it’s not an overreaction,” He speaks, turning the truck back on and pulling away, “He still around?”

You shake your head, “I don’t think so.”

“Good.”

It makes you wonder if he means good because he won’t bother you anymore, or good because it means he won’t be tempted to do something about his blatant disrespect. You decide not to probe that one, but file it away for later. You’re driving down the street when your stomach grumbles, reminding you that you’ve not eaten since lunch.

“You hungry?”

“I could eat,” You mumble sheepishly, “I’m sure there’s something at home.”

Javi nods, but drives straight past the turning he would need to take you home, driving straight on instead and turning off a little later. You’re about to ask where he’s taking you when he pulls into the parking lot at McDonalds. He parks up and tells you to stay where you are.

You watch him as he walks away, perfectly broad back, shirt tucked into his jeans. He really is a vision in every way when you look at him. He’s striding back out a little while later, brown paper bag in one hand and a soda cup in the other. He passes them both to you as he climbs back into his seat.

“What’s this?” You ask, taking a sip of the cold soda.

“Cheeseburger, extra pickles and a Sprite with extra ice.”

Yet again, he’s managed to amaze you with his observation skills. There was a time where he’d taken a trip with you and your parents, just a day out of town somewhere, and you’d stopped to get food on the way home, you’d made this exact order, turned to him and told him it was your favourite, and somehow he’d filed that away for right now, when you needed it the most.

“Thank you.” You speak simply, reaching in for the burger, unwrapping it carefully before taking a bite.

Javi can’t help but watch out of the side of his eye as you eat. God, you looked beautiful. Jeans that looked like they’d been painted onto your skin, showing off all those perfect parts of you. A shirt that was enticing without being too much. Fuck, he wanted to reach over, use his thumb to wipe away the tiny bit of sauce that had gathered in the corner of your mouth, push it into your mouth and let you lick it off his thumb.

You ball up the wrapper your burger had come in once you’ve finished, dropping it into the paper bag, picking up the cup of soda to suck the Sprite through the straw, “You alright now?” He asks.

You look at him, small, sad smile on your lips, “Just can’t help feeling there’s something wrong with me.” You shrug, offering him a sip of your drink which he declines.

“What do you mean?” He asks, wanting to reach over to you, put a comforting hand on you, but deciding against it for now.

You shrug a little, leaning your head back against the seat, “No-one ever looks at me in that way, I suppose,” You answer honestly, and he wants to tell you it isn’t true, that he thinks of you exactly like that, no matter how much he shouldn’t, “I’ve been with one guy in my whole life and I don’t think he ever really liked me, was only with me because I was the only one left out of my friends.”

“Did he say that?”

“He didn’t have to,” You shrug again, “He never really made an effort, never took me out, never really wanted to sleep with me much either, I guess I was just easy for him,” You say, “Convenient.” Is what you finish on.

“It isn’t you,” Javi speaks, turning his head to look at you, resting it against his seat in much the same way you are, “First of all, college boys are always idiots, don’t let that be your base line,” You snort and turn your head to look at him now, “What did tonight’s idiot do?”

You shake your head at him, “He was just a misogynistic asshole,” You add a shrug, “Apparently because I’m a woman I should write about fashion and not anything that actually matters.”

Javi scoffs, because in his experience, women make the best journalists, quiet, unassuming but they always knew how to pull strings and get what they wanted and he doesn’t doubt you’re the same, “Take it as a compliment,” He offers, “Sometimes it’s best to intimidate boys, and the ones that you don’t?” He asks as a rhetorical question, “Those will be the men worth your time.”

You chuckle a bit, rolling your head on the headrest behind you to look back out of the front of the car, “You’re just saying this to make me feel better.”

Javi reaches over, takes hold of your hand and gives it a slight squeeze before he’s letting it drop again, almost like he’s been burnt, like he knows he shouldn’t have done it, “I am saying it to make you feel better, that’s the whole point, but it’s true,” He shrugs a little in his seat, “Don’t feel like you’ve got to rush into that side of life either, you’re still young, there’s plenty of time for you.”

You hum in agreement because you know he’s right, it’s what everyone always says to you in these circumstances, but somehow, coming from him, it means more. He’s older than you and although you’ve no doubt that he’s known plenty of women in his time, he’s in just the same predicament as you are.

“Will you take me home?” You ask softly, “I’m tired.”

He nods, starting up his car, pulling out of the parking lot and finally driving you back home.

He pulls his truck up just down the street from your house, far enough away that your dad won’t be able to see, but close enough that he knows he’ll be able to sit and wait to watch you get in safely. He cuts the engine and turns to you, giving you a soft smile, trying to tell you that it’ll all be okay.

“Thanks,” You speak softly, “For all this, made a shitty night not so bad in the end.”

“Always,” He smiles back, “I mean it when I say you don’t ever need to worry about calling me.”

“I know,” You smile, and he feels his heart swell at the sight, “Well, goodnight Javi.”

He doesn’t really register what’s happening until it’s too late. You drag your body across the truck instead of moving to the door to open it and press a gentle kiss to his cheek. It would be innocent enough if it wasn’t for the fact your lips press into the skin just far enough away from his mouth so as not to cross a line, but not right in the middle of his cheek either. It’s the softest way he’s been touched in a long time, and he can feel himself wanting to grip onto you, smash his mouth to your own and finally scratch the itch that’s sitting under his skin.

You pull away, but before you can open the door, he’s taking hold of your wrist and moving closer, pressing his own kiss to your cheek right back, further up your skin than you had done to him, but it’s a kiss to your skin none-the-less, one that floods his chest with hope, a feeling he hasn’t really felt in years. He keeps his mouth there probably for a little longer than he should, committing the feel of your skin on his mouth because he knows this is as far as he should push things, but he also knows that he now needs to know what the rest of your skin feels like under his mouth.

He pulls away and when he looks at your eyes, all full of hope and want, the same look he’d seen countless times in Colombia, whether he was promising a visa or led next to someone in bed, and he knows he shouldn’t have done it, shouldn’t have encouraged these kinds of feelings, but he’s done it now, he can’t take it back, wouldn’t want to if he could either.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, querida,” He says softly, “Nothing wrong with you at all.”

358 notes · View notes

vintagepascal · 11 months

Text

alfajores

AN - the poll I put up the other day won out with fluffy pedro/reader and I'm working on a request I got for it but it's taking me a hot sec, so have this one that I already have written to hold you over :) hope you enjoy!

word count - 2,900+

rating - teen

content warnings - no warnings, just fluff!

summary - you decide to surprise pedro for his birthday on set with some help from bella (ao3 link if you prefer, it's titled pedrito over there :) )

----------------------------------------------------------------------

you worry too much

You hit send, tucking your phone quickly between your thighs as you tried to relax, eyes trained on the window outside as the plane started to pull back from the jetbridge. You were never much of a liar, but you hoped desperately that you could pull this one off somehow.

Your phone buzzed. A text from Pedro, no doubt.

Mi amor, that’ll be four shifts this week. You need a break :(

You couldn’t help the smile that it brought to your face, knowing that he had no idea that you’d be seeing him so soon.

I’ll survive. Busy is good. Now go film some cool shit, tell Bella I said hi. I’ll text when I can. I love you

Love you more. and no hi for Bella, they ate all my bday cookies.

You chuckled to yourself and quickly clicked your phone over to airplane mode. You’d paid for the inflight wifi so he wouldn’t suspect anything if he happened to have enough breaks in filming to text you - he was a worrier at heart, especially when it came to those he loved, and an undelivered text would be enough to put him into a panic.

With everything set into motion, you settled back into your seat and reviewed the plan.

You’d had it in the works for a month. All behind the scenes of course, but you’d gotten everyone in on it that you could. Neil, Craig, Bella, Gabriel - anyone who would be around set. The filming schedule was insane, but you knew that they’d want Pedro’s birthday to be special, especially since he wasn’t able to come home and spend it with you.

In the years that you’d been dating, you had learned he loved a good surprise, though he would never admit it. And even more so, he would never, ever , let anyone make a big deal out of things for him. Even if he played it off for the press about loving the attention, when it came to those close to him he would much rather celebrate those around him than be the one in the spotlight.

It was no surprise that they were one hundred percent on board with throwing a bit of a surprise party, with you being the main surprise. The next part of the plan was simple - getting a few days off work had been easy enough, considering Pedro had insisted that you went part time and only worked when you wanted to once he landed another job. It was a luxury that you allowed, considering it meant you got to spend so much more time with him when he was off filming, and even go on the occasional press tour with him.

Once the flight was booked and everything else had been arranged, the hard part came - keeping the love of your life in the dark. Pedro was the type of person that you wanted to tell everything to. From the simple things, like the dog in the rain boots that you’d seen on 2nd avenue that morning, to how much you wished you could be together all the time - any thought you had flowed off your tongue so easily to him. He was your safe space, and you were his, which was a cornerstone of your relationship from day one.

Thank god you’d only finalized your plan a few weeks ago, or you weren’t sure you would have made it.

As a cover up, you found a highly rated South American bakery in Vancouver to send some of his favorite cookies and sweets to set, just like the ones his mom used to make when he was young. You sent some flowers too - hydrangeas, spray roses, gerberas - something to warm up the cold Vancouver set he’d been dealing with. He’d called you that morning from hair and makeup, so grateful and excited. You’d promised him there was more to come when you could see him in person, which he thought was in three long weeks when there was a small break in scheduling for something Bella needed to do back in London. That seemed to be enough of a birthday present from afar to satisfy him.

You hoped he was still in the dark as you watched the small plane flit across your screen, taking you mile by mile closer to him.

It was a long flight from New York to Vancouver. You spent the majority of the time doing something you didn’t get to do often on flights - watch something Pedro was in. Majority of the time, if you were on a long haul, Pedro was right beside you and in his true almost 50 year old fashion, he’d break out his headphone splitter and want to watch something with you. You’d only recently got him to agree to airpods. Obviously, that meant anything he had been in was off limits, so you took the rare chance to go back and watch Narcos - you were only in season two, and you were loving how much screen time Pena was getting.

It made you smile hearing Pedro getting to show off in both Spanish and English - he’d taught you quite a bit in your relationship, and you caught quite a few words throughout the episodes that you recognized, though most of the time you were too busy watching him to pay much attention to anything else. God, you would never understand how you’d gotten so lucky.

Halfway through an episode, a text popped up on your phone.

This is gonna be so good dude, he is proper clueless.

You laughed as you read it in Bella’s voice. A picture came through next of them holding a small cookie and running away, with a blur that you assumed was Pedro in the back.

Also, pls send more alfajores before he kills me

By the looks of the photo, they were shooting outside of the city still, which was what you had planned for. Pedro had begun a habit of sending you a picture each morning of the set for the day, a way of keeping you involved from afar. It seemed to be the same beautiful landscape as earlier - you hoped he had been having a good day so far.

The rest of the flight went off without a hitch. You texted Pedro once, feigning that you were on break at work, unsurprised that he wasn’t able to answer right away, as you knew he was busy.

The excitement really started to set in when you touched down in Vancouver. You shot a text to Craig once you landed - it was 7pm local time, and you had about an hour and a half drive to get to set. To your surprise, the crew had insisted that you got the celebrity treatment by association, and had sent you a driver who met you outside of the airport and immediately got you on your way.

You made small talk with her until the first and only hiccup of the plan appeared - Pedro’s face popped up on your phone, an adorable picture of him from last summer on your vacation to Hawaii - an incoming facetime call. Of course. He usually called you in the evenings, but it wasn’t always a facetime. As much as it killed you, you let it ring through, waiting about five minutes until you returned it with a regular call.

“Hi mi amor , everything okay? You off work?” He picked up on the first ring.

“Yeah yeah, I’m good! I’ve got a headache so I took a shower and got straight in bed, sorry I didn’t pick up.” It felt so wrong to lie, but you knew it would pay off.

“Oh no cariño, did you take some medicine? Did the shower help? There’s some of that tea I made you last time in the cabinet still, in the purple box.”

“I’m fine love, just need some sleep is all. Guess it’s a good thing I’m not there to put a damper on your birthday fun,” you teased, grinning to yourself. Your driver let out a tiny chuckle that you caught in the rearview mirror.

“Wish you were here, headache or no headache,” he sighed. “I miss you.”

“Miss you more.”

“ Mentiras. ” He said. “Lies,” he translated when you didn’t contradict him. “I won’t keep you, just wanted to see your pretty face. We can talk in the morning when you feel better, okay? Call me if you need me. I love you.”

“I love you too. Happy birthday Pedro, I’ll call you in the morning.”

“Bye amor.”

You hung up, letting your head rest back and your heart flutter as the city began to fade away behind you.

One hour later, and you were frantically texting with Bella, attempting to find the best way to surprise Pedro as you arrived on set.

Have your driver drop you off by my trailer, and I’ll sneak you into production stage. Meet you there in five.

You relayed the message and sure enough, Bella came scurrying around the corner, practically tackling you in a hug once they found you. You’d met them the first time you came to set with Pedro, back in the beginning stages of production during some team bonding time, and you knew how important their relationship was to the both of them.

“Do you think he has any idea that I’m here?” You asked, following Bella as they led you around the back of a large temporary structure that you assumed was production stage.

“Not a single fucking clue. Craig and I have been playing it off all day long, talking about how fun it would be if you were here,” Bella grinned. “I think Neil is bringing out a cake, c’mon, we gotta hurry. He’s probably in his chair, just hang back and sneak up behind him.”

As you rounded the corner, you heard the hum of voices inside and noticed the chairs. Bella gave you a quick thumbs up and hurried around so they didn’t draw any attention to you, coming in from a different angle and taking their chair next to Pedro. You spotted Neil first, walking very carefully with a large chocolate cake alit with candles in the general direction of the chairs.

Crew began to gather around and you swung to the right so you could blend in but still see Pedro’s face as he realized what was happening. They all began to sing and you watched the adorable blush spread across his cheeks. Bella was filming beside him as he smiled and blew out his candles to the applause of all of the cast and crew - it warmed your heart to see so many people celebrating the man you loved.

They took the cake to a nearby table and began to cut it, passing Pedro his piece first. In all the noise, you seized your opportunity to sneak up behind him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and squeezing gently.

“Can I have a bite?”

His eyes blew wide as he craned his neck to try and see who was behind him. You leaned back to help him out, laughing at the pure shock on his face.

“What!? What the fuck are you doing here!? You’re in New York!” He discarded his cake to the side, roughly pushing his chair out of the way to get to you as he stood up all in one move, wrapping you up in his arms. You could vaguely hear applause somewhere behind you but you didn’t care. It felt too good to be in his arms after so many weeks, your brain didn’t have much space to process anything else.

When he finally loosened up it was only to kiss you softly twice on the lips, then once on the forehead before he leaned back and grinned at you.

“You sneaky little thing.”

“Guess I’m not in New York,” you teased, popping up on your tiptoes to kiss him one more time before you disentangled from him, leaning over to give Bella a fist bump.

“Oh you knew about this? Huh?” Pedro asked.

“Of course I knew about it, I’ve known for a month man!” Bella grinned.

“Oh you see if you make it through a single take tomorrow kid,” he threatened, but they were both laughing.

“Actually, as a birthday gift, tomorrow is a rest day. Everybody can thank Y/N for that one!” Craig announced, which was met with whooping and cheers from everyone, with a few yells of your name. Pedro pulled you up against his side.

“I assume that means you’re spending the night then, eh?”

“Nah, figured I’d just pop in for five minutes and then catch the next flight out,” you grinned, rolling your eyes at him. “I’m here for three days, two nights.”

“Not long enough. Never long enough, but I’ll take what I can get,” Pedro sighed, kissing your hair. “Now get some cake so we can go home.”

Home in Vancouver was a nice apartment that Pedro was renting downtown. After cake was had, final birthday wishes were given and hugs were distributed, Pedro changed back into his own clothes and led you to his rental - an Audi, of course. He opened the passenger door for you and climbed into the driver’s seat, holding your hand as he sped off of set and back towards the city.

It didn’t matter that you had just done this drive - he held the back of your hand up to his lips, pressing soft kisses there as he drove down the highway and you couldn’t have been more content.

“I cannot believe you’re here right now. I thought I wasn’t going to see you for weeks,” he said, shaking his head. He hadn’t stopped smiling since you had appeared behind him.

“I couldn’t leave you alone on your birthday,” you sighed, leaning over and resting your head on his shoulder. It was late New York time, and the adrenaline of the day was beginning to wear off now that you were with your man.

“You can sleep cariño, I’ll wake you up when we get there,” he murmured to you.

“No, no I'm okay,” you reassured him, but it was already garbled.

The next thing you felt were soft lips on your forehead.

“We’re here mi amor. C’mon, let's get you upstairs.”

He helped you out of the car, the lobby lights of the building helping to wake you up a bit as you made it to the elevator. The driver from earlier had put your suitcase in Pedro’s car, and he managed it with ease as well. You stayed tucked up to his side as you headed up to the top floor. He unlocked the door easily, keeping one arm wrapped around you even as you walked through the door, rolling your suitcase into the corner. He kicked off his boots and tossed his keys somewhere, and then he was scooping you up, making you squeal a bit when your feet left the floor.

“God you don’t know how many times I’ve thought about you being here lately. I’ve missed you like crazy baby.” He carried you down the hallway and into the kitchen, sitting you down onto the counter. Without asking, he turned and made you a glass of ice water. “Drink. You’ve been on a plane all day.”

You listened to him, grateful for the cool liquid on your dry throat.

“I need to go get all this makeup off, but I’ll be ready for bed in five minutes. Meet you there?”

“I could go with you,” you offered, but your words were garbled by the long yawn that immediately followed. Pedro chuckled, kissing your nose.

“I don’t think I can hold you upright and wash all this grime off at the same time love. Go climb in bed. Stay awake for me, I’ll be there in just a minute,” he instructed, taking you by the hips and placing you on your feet. He didn’t let go until he was sure you were steady, and then he disappeared to the bathroom.

You didn’t even bother going for your suitcase. Instead, you moved to your boyfriend’s drawers, finding his old Lakers shirt. It smelled so much like him that it made you smile as you stripped out of everything but your underwear and pulled it on.

You climbed into bed, making yourself sit up so you wouldn’t fall back asleep as you listened to the water run in the bathroom, then turn off. Pedro was humming a song as he got ready, and you couldn’t help but grin when he emerged only a few minutes later in just his boxers, hair damp and a matching smile on his face.

He wasted no time in climbing into bed next to you, immediately reaching over and pulling you right up against him. His hands splayed out underneath your shirt, finding skin as he sighed, pressing his nose up to your neck and breathing you in.

“Ahh, mi deseo,” he breathed.

“Translate,” you whispered, eyes closed as you melted into him, trying to get your skin onto his everywhere that you could. It lit a familiar fire in you that began to burn deep.

“My wish,” he said. “I wished for you. Today, but also for so long.”

“I’m here. Right here,” you breathed, hands slotting into his hair. His fingers found purchase against your hips, pulling you over and on top of him.

“Happy birthday Pedrito.”

“Happy birthday to me,” he grinned, and got to work.

#my writing #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal writing #pedro pascal fluff #:)#hope you enjoy! my next one has some angst thrown in hehe #and im still working on my javi p one I just have the worst writers block of all time apparently lol #sorry the gif is shitty I threw it together in literally 5 minutes haha

726 notes · View notes

amhrosina · 1 year

Text

Feelings are Fatal (Javier Peña x f!Reader)

MASTERLIST // JOIN MY TAGLIST

A/N: omg whatttttt amhrosina writing a fic about someone not in a marvel show/movie???? whatttt???? the people who know me in person (& one of my fav mutuals) knew this was coming. what can I say? it’s pedro fucking pascal and i've been in love with him since GOT lol enjoy this angst fest!

request: rosi i noticed that you added pedro pascal to your writing list so im requesting a fic with javi comforting dea reader after a family member/friend dies. soft javi, maybe reader is drinking and theres an established but secret relationship. feel free not to write it if you dont like it but i saw your authors note about pedro and figured i would ask

Summary: Javi comforts reader after she gets terrible news and is forced to confront the depth of his feelings for her. Steve confronts Javi about his secret relationship.

(Warnings: angst, mentions of death, grief, minor injuries, alcohol, Javi is a grump but is a soft!boy w reader, cursing, lots of cigarettes lol, feelings are hard for javi)

The second you heard the receiver click on the other end of the line, the bulky phone slipped from your hand and tumbled to the floor. The booming crack of the plastic smacking the tile, followed by the trinkle of the pieces cascading across the floor, were the only sounds you could hear in the bullpen. You tried to find something to focus on, eyes glazing over as your heartbeat pounded in your ears. You scanned the area around you, skipping over Murphy’s concerned gaze and landing on Javi’s empty chair.

Mierda. (Shit.) He was still chasing a lead in Cali, and he wasn’t supposed to be home until early tomorrow morning. It’s not like he would be able to do anything for you right now anyways, considering you were surrounded by people who would out your relationship in half a second if it meant their career might be boosted because of it, but his reassuring presence was something you sorely needed at the moment.

Your chest tightened as you processed what your dad had just murmured through the phone. You had been sitting when you answered the phone, but at some point, you must’ve stood, because you were currently white knuckling the back of your chair.

Murphy rolled his chair into your eyeline, waving his hands in the air. Everything around you sounded muffled, almost like you were under water, and you couldn’t focus on anything for longer than a few seconds. You ran through the tricks you knew off the top of your head to stave off a panic attack. You tried to take a deep breath, you counted the tiles on the floor, hell, you even tried to find five things you could see, but the rapidly rising pace of your heartbeat, and the shallow breaths you could barely manage told you your panic attack was in full swing already.

A gentle presence on your wrist sent a shock through you so prevalent that you snapped to attention and the world suddenly got very loud. Murphy was standing in front of you with wide eyes, murmuring your name, while the lucky few agents that happened to be in the bullpen when your phone rang stood a few feet back, observing you with keen interest. You weren’t stupid enough to believe they cared about your wellbeing. Nosy fuckers.

Your hands clenched into fists, shaking slightly. The indent of your nails pressing into your palm was a steady ache, one that you absolutely needed if you were going to walk out of the office without incident. And you knew that was where you needed to go. Away from here, away from the DEA’s bullshit bureaucracy, away from Pablo Escobar and his sicarios. You stumbled away from Murphy, turning on your heels when you reached the lip of the bottom stair. You would explain everything to everyone later, when you could think again. ‘If you still have a job later, pendeja (asshole/idiot),’ you thought miserably.

You barely remember jumping into your front seat, nor starting the car, nor pulling out of the police headquarters lot. You had a vague awareness that you arrived home when you unlocked your front door, but you were stuck in autopilot, and couldn’t bear to think about why you were stuck in autopilot.

You eyed the bottle of liquor Javi had left in your kitchen the last time he was here and sighed. Yes, you thought, that’s perfect.

Javi was driving like a maniac, and he didn’t give two shits about it. When Steve had called earlier, he hadn’t been able to give any details about their partner’s bizarre behavior, other than her hasty departure from DEA headquarters after a strange phone call. Steve was puzzled, but otherwise not too concerned about her. Javi, on the other hand, had carefully untangled himself from his business in Cali and hopped on the next available and inconspicuous flight home he could manage.

He could feel in his gut that something was wrong, and he couldn’t leave his girl hanging, job or no job. He wasn’t any closer to capturing Escobar anyways and had already determined that his trip to Cali was a colossal waste of time and resources before Steve had called him.

He’d been pulled away from DEA headquarters for long enough, and this was the perfect excuse for him to high tail it out of Cali and come home. He was tired, and he missed his conejita (bunny – term of endearment), and even though he’d never admit it, he missed Murphy’s early morning grumblings too.

He peeled into the nearest parking spot he could find to the apartment building and hurdled himself out of the driver’s seat. When he entered the building, he eyed the door at the top of the stairs. Dark – either Murphy was still at the office, asleep, or sitting in his apartment in complete darkness. His apartment was also dark, but a soft glow emitted from under his conejita’s door, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

He considered using the key she had given him for emergencies. Did this count as an emergency? He sure thought so, but he didn’t want to startle her, so he knocked on the door with anxious trepidation. He waited, straining to listen through the door for any sign of life inside the apartment. There was nothing, and then there was the loud crash of something glass hitting the floor, and Javi was through the door before she could let out a yelp.

She was on her hands and knees, hunched on the floor by her couch. Broken glass was all over the floor around her, though Javi couldn’t tell what she’d broken. He was more concerned for her palms and kneecaps, all of which were being pushed into the broken glass shards with little resistance on her end. He rushed to her side, lifting her off of the glass and into his arms.

“Javi?” She slurred, raising her chin in a defiant gesture.

“Cariño (honey), what happened?” He noted the way she slurred her words and the fact that her cheeks were tinted pink. “Have you been drinking?”

“Have you been drinking, Agent Grumpy?” She pouted, trying to mimic the way Javi’s lips would poke out when he was upset about something.

Clearly, she’d been drinking, but Javi couldn’t figure out what might’ve spurred this behavior. Out of him, Murphy, and her, she was the most levelheaded of the trio, and the least likely to drown her sorrows in a bottle of liquor. Dread coiled in his gut. Something awful must’ve gone down while he was gone, and he couldn’t help but feel like the idiot that couldn’t keep up.

“Baby,” he murmured, carefully navigating through the millions of tiny glass shards all over her living room floor, “¿Que paso (what happened)?”

“I dropped the bottle.” She breathed, clutching onto his shirt with her bloody hands. He didn’t care. He’d use a hundred of his shirts to stop her bleeding. He carefully set her down in a kitchen chair, untangling his limbs from hers. She seemed more alert now, more awake than when he’d busted through the door moments before. The cuts on her hands and knees were probably to blame for that, but Javi couldn’t breathe a sigh of relief yet. First, he had to find a first aid kit.

Every agent was trained in basic first aid, and if they felt like being kiss-asses, they could take classes to get certified in trauma response. Javi hadn’t felt like being a kiss-ass, but he knew he way around a first aid kit. As he poked around her kitchen and bathroom cabinets, he stuck his head in the hallway every few seconds, checking on her. She was waiting patiently at the kitchen table where he’d left her, but she’d adopted a look that could only be described as “far away”, and his concern was growing by the minute.

Javi couldn’t figure it out. When they’d talked on the phone this morning, she was fine, chipper even. She was excited that he’d be home soon, and he had promised that he’d make up for the nights they’d lost while he was working in Cali. When her voice had dropped to a whisper, and she revealed that Murphy had just walked into the bullpen thirty minutes early, his breath had hitched in his throat as he almost let the words “I love you” slip from between his lips.

Javi wasn’t inexperienced with women, but he was sure that she was the only woman in the world that could get him that tongue tied. When the receiver clicked, indicating that she'd hung up, Javi had spent entirely too long staring at the phone in his hands, listening to the dial tone drone on and on as he searched his brain for wherever the hell that had come from.

But that couldn’t be what was bothering her. Steve had mentioned a phone call, but she’d hung up the phone with him before 8am, and she didn’t start acting weird until almost ten hours later. There had to be someone, something bothering her, and Javi’s chest ached with rage about it. The only person allowed to bother her was him, and he took that job very seriously.

“Bebé (Baby),” he sighed, propping the medical kit open on the kitchen table, “Will you tell me what’s going on?”

She swallowed thickly, sighing as he pulled up a chair in front of her. He gently lifted her hands to the light so he could see the cuts. They were shallow, but hands always bled a lot, so both of her palms were stained a deep crimson. She watched him as he began to remove pieces of glass from the cuts, and he waited patiently for her to explain herself. He’d wait for as long as she needed him to.

The stinging sensation hadn’t left your trembling hands, but you wanted to be tough in front of Javi, so you watched quietly as he wrapped your hands in thick gauze. He’d lit a cigarette two minutes ago, puffing smoke in the air at regular intervals as he worked. When he finally moved on to your knees, which had stopped bleeding ten minutes ago, you tried to figure out exactly what to say to him.

It wasn’t every day that your significant other’s mom suddenly and inexplicably dies during an evening nap, leaving everyone, especially your significant other, baffled and choked by her loss. His mom had quietly passed away earlier the year before, and he was only gone for two days before returning to Colombia. He hadn’t broached the topic since then, and you weren’t as comfortable with him then as you were now. You could confidently say that you had no idea how this was going to go.

You took a breath, and before you could talk yourself out of it, mumbled the same words your dad had spoken hours before, causing your world to crumble around you.

“Mi mamá está muerta. (My mom is dead.)”

Javi sucked in a breath, lifting his gaze towards yours with a pitiful expression. Tears welled in your eyes, and for the first time since you’d heard the horrible news, you allowed yourself to cry. Javi dropped the gauze on the table and wrapped his muscular arms around your neck, pulling you into his chest.

“Oh, Cariño,” he cooed, kissing your hair as you sobbed into his shirt, “Lo siento, bebé. (I’m sorry, baby.)”

His shirt was sure to be irreparably stained now that your blood and tears were soaked into it, but he didn’t seem to mind. He stroked your back, kissed your head, and held you close while you cried and cried into his chest. He’d never seen you so vulnerable before, and a rush of fear shot through you at the thought of him scaring away because of that, but every time you tried to push away from him, he’d tighten his hold on you and urge you to let it out.

When you finally got a handle on your sobs, Javi pulled back, searching your expression for any further breakage. He’d weather it, this awful storm, for as long as you needed him to. You knew that, and even still, when he began to put the pieces of you back together again, your heart melted at the thought of him.

Javier Peña was not the guy that women came crying to in the middle of the night. He was the guy you picked up for the one-night stand, the one you’d talk about for years afterwards, the one you’d think about as ‘the one that got away’ until you were too old to remember his name and where he came from. That was Javier Peña, and yet, he was in your kitchen, cleaning up your wounds, healing the part of you that was inexplicably broken. If only Murphy could see you guys now.

“Cuando es el funeral? (When is the funeral?)” He asked, blotting at the scabs on your knees.

“Next weekend.” You murmured, wincing as he taped gauze over a particularly deep cut.

“When mi mamá died,” he started, and you stopped breathing, unwilling to be the one to fuck this conversation up before it even started, “I didn’t let myself mourn the way I should have. I tried to sweep it under the rug, ‘ya know?”

You nodded, remembering the weeks after his return from Texas. He had thrown himself into his work, which made yours and Murphy’s lives a little easier for a while, though neither of you preferred it that way.

“Let yourself mourn, Cariño. It’s my biggest regret.”

“Okay.” You nodded, though you weren’t sure exactly what he meant by that. You spoke before you could stop yourself. “You can still mourn her. There’s not a time limit on grief.”

It sort of felt like the air was sucked out of the room. You’d never said something so bold to Javi, especially not about his personal life. You were five seconds away from blaming your brashness on the alcohol you’d consumed, even though you’d sobered up fairly quickly once he’d arrived, when he nodded.

“That’s true, Cariño.”

You blinked. You must really look like shit if Javi wasn’t actively building walls around himself. Sure, he’d opened up a little throughout the relationship, but he was still working on being vulnerable with you, and he had a lot of work left to do. You knew he was plagued by nightmares – you were too, and who, working this job, wouldn’t be? – but he wouldn’t talk about them with anyone. Instead, he’d pull you closer, kiss you harder, and make you forget why he’d woken in the first place. It was a coping mechanism that both of you recognized as ‘not actually coping’ but neither of you had the resources or the energy to work through that trauma. At least, not yet.

He lit another cigarette, and you watched him breathe in the smoke deeply. He lifted it toward you, and you eagerly parted your lips, taking a much needed drag. Before Colombia, before Javi, you hadn’t touched a cigarette in your life. After being assigned to team Murphy-Peña, you felt like you had a perpetual cloud of smoke hovering over you at all times.

Javi brushed his hands together and threw the remaining unused gauze back in the first aid kit. He gently pulled you from your seat, and the slight movement sent a sting through your legs. You were already regretting the alcohol and your hangover hadn’t even started yet.

“Let’s sleep at my place tonight, Cariño. We’ll clean this up tomorrow.”

You nodded, teary eyed again. You didn’t want to think about tomorrow, or next week, or any time in the future that didn’t include your mom. If Javi noticed your tears, he didn’t say anything about them, and you were grateful for his wherewithal. He always knew exactly how to handle you, and that was part of the reason you’d fallen in love with him.

Love. You blanched. Nope. Not thinking about that right now.

You shrugged the thought away as Javi lifted you bridal style in his arms. Javier Peña didn’t fall in love, and you certainly weren’t going to be the woman to challenge that.

Bonus Scene: Steve confronting Javi about his secret relationship with you.

“Are you fucking stupid? You’ve got to be, to pull this bullshit.”

Javi watched Steve pace across his living room. Again. He’d been walking a hole in the rug for half an hour, and Javi wasn’t sure Steve would be stopping his rant anytime soon.

Technically, Javi deserved this. Everything Steve was saying was true. He was jeopardizing not only his career, but hers too. The integrity of the investigation against Escobar would be questioned if word got out that two of the three agents assigned to his case were fucking each other. Not to mention how quickly procedure would be thrown out the window if either of them were in danger. There’s a reason why those rules existed.

But like most things, it wasn’t that simple. Javi hadn’t been able to offer an excuse for when Steve caught him carrying her into his apartment, taped to high hell with gauze and tipsy as all get out. He’d simply shrugged, unlocked the door, and carried her through the frame without a second glance.

Now, Steve wasn’t stupid, but he chalked up that incident to her being overwhelmed with grief. What friend wouldn’t offer their couch up to their drunk, mourning partner when she needed it? What he didn’t know was how often she slept at Javi’s already. She even had a toothbrush in his bathroom and a stack of books piled on one of the nightstands in his bedroom.

Steve’s suspicions might’ve grown a little the weekend that she went home to Oceanside for her mother’s funeral. Weekends meant little to the DEA agents working Escobar’s case – every day was another day they could possibly learn information that may or may not give them someone who might know something about Escobar, or not – but Javi was especially fidgety the two days she was off on leave.

Steve finally demanded to know what the hell was bothering Javi when he caught him staring at her empty seat for the third time in an hour. Javi brushed it off, claiming he hadn’t been sleeping well, but Steve wasn’t so easily persuaded to look the other way again.

The final straw, the one that prompted the yelling and the insults and the pacing, made Javi’s relationship with her so obvious that there wasn’t a chance in hell he could talk his way out of it. Steve, being the hero best buddy that he was, had heard an alarming thump from Javi’s apartment, and taken it upon himself to investigate. What he hadn’t been expecting to find was his two partners, tangled in each other’s limbs, going at it on the kitchen counter like rabbits.

Hence, the yelling.

“I mean, seriously Javi? You could fuck any woman in the world, and you chose the one woman that’s off limits!”

“Listen, man. I-”

Javi tried again to interrupt Steve’s rant, to explain himself and what he felt for her. Steve was missing the bigger picture. Javi wasn’t just fucking her, he loved her. He couldn’t figure out if that would make Steve more or less angry about it.

“You what, man? You what?!” Steve threw his hands in the air, beckoning an excuse that might help him understand why his partners would be such idiots.

Javi struggled to translate his feelings into words. He hadn’t even told her yet exactly how he felt and saying it now felt weirdly similar to a trial run. He searched his head for the right words to describe what she was to him.

“I’ve been sleeping.” Javi rested his hands on his hips and sighed, eyes flickering across the ceiling as he realized how incredibly stupid that sounded outside of his brain. “I know I love her, because I can sleep after I’ve talked to her.”

Steve studied Javi, searching for any signs of deception. He narrowed his eyes when he couldn’t find any.

“What do you mean you ‘love’ her?”

“I mean, I fucking love her, man. I don’t know what you want me to say.” Javi was growing restless, tugging at the neckline of his button-down shirt. Conversations like these always made him antsy, and he could feel the temperature in his cheeks rising.

“You.” Steve cocked a grin, “Javier Peña. In love? I’m not buying it man.”

“Well, I’m not going to try and convince you.” It was Javi’s turn to throw his hands in the air in distress. He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply.

“You actually care about her?” Steve’s expression morphed from disbelief to genuine shock. Javi wished he could take a picture to savor the moment.

“Are you going to say anything to anyone?”

Javi would normally never be so obvious about his fears, but he was thinking about her, back in her apartment, probably walking a hole into her rug as she waited for Steve and Javi to hash their shit out. The look on her face when Steve started yelling was enough to make Javi panic, and he was not above begging if it meant keeping her out of trouble.

“Nah, man.” Steve shook his head, plopping down on Javi’s couch. Javi sagged with relief. “Just don’t make it so obvious. I was suspicious before I walked in on you two.”

“Yeah, man.” Javi took another drag of his cigarette.

“Have you told her?”

“Told her what?” Javi couldn’t keep the bite from his tone.

“That you love her.”

Javi envied the ease that Steve managed when he talked about love. Before she’d been transferred to Colombia, Javi had never, in his life, been able to understand why anyone would choose to fall in love. He recognized the signs of it from the years of watching his parents interact, but he’d never experienced it before. When Steve talked about Connie, whether it was a complaint or not, there was always an underlying tone of love in his words. When she showed up, everything Javi had ever thought about love was scrambled, and it terrified him.

“No.” He blew out a slow trail of smoke.

Steve nodded slowly in understanding. If anyone in the world could comprehend Javi’s mindset right now, it was the guy he’d spent hours and hours with every day for years.

“Maybe you should.”

“Yeah, maybe I should.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Click here if you want to join my tag list! <3

Thank you for reading!

1K notes · View notes

pedroshotwifey · 4 months

Text

To The Flame Masterlist

Pairing: Dark!Javier Peña x afab!reader

Series tags/warnings: smut, angst, fluff in the beginning, piv sex, rough sex, oral sex, non-canon compliant, eventual dark!javi, abuse, manipulation, age gap, eventual marriage, eventual pregnancy, rape, noncon, baby trapping (kind of), breeding kink, dubcon, kinda slowburn, (MORE SPECIFIC WARNINGS WILL BE POSTED WITH THE CHAPTERS)

Series description: It doesn't take much for you to fall in love with the objectively perfect, older man from your home town. He easily sweeps you off your feet, and helps you to remember what happiness feels like until you think he's truly all you'll ever need in life. What happens though, once he tethers you down and starts to change before you have a chance to realize what's happening?

A/N: PLEASE KEEP IN MIND that this series is going to seem a bit rushed at first. Yes, it is a slow burn, but in the way that we will creep into darker territory as we progress. The first chapters are going to bounce around a bit and skip some interactions, but please trust that it will start to slow down once we get to the main chunk of the story. Please just be patient with me and keep an open mind! This is set around the same time as the show!

All indentions mark in-between drabbles!

Chapter one (2.5k)

Chapter two (3.5k)

Chapter three (3.3k)

Chapter four (2.3k)

Chapter five (2.5k)

Chapter six (2.6k)

Dream house drabble (652)

Chapter seven (3.1k)

Chapter eight (3k)

Chapter nine (2.1k)

Chapter ten (2.8k)

Chapter eleven (3.9k)

Chapter twelve (2.6k)

Chapter thirteen

292 notes · View notes

mamsieur · 6 months

Text

Evil Twin | Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Floyd!Reader

Summary : Who would have guessed that sweet and discreet Bob had a twin sister who was his opposite ? Not the Dagger Squad, that's for sure.

TW : mention of past abuse, mention of abusive relationship, mention of alcohol, mention of sex, angst and fluff, angst with happy ending

Length : 6980 words

AN : Bob is the sweetest and I'm sure he's an overprotective brother.

posted on AO3 July 22, 2023

You were the quintessential of the pop-rock star. You had a lot of problems with the press, both concerning your love life and the setbacks of your ex-band.

The first problem was that you were often seen leaving hotels with different partners : the press loved that you didn't settle down and always made a big deal out of it. You didn't really care, you knew the tabloids always twisted the truth just to sell more garbage. What bothered you was that your mom kept calling you about it, wondering why you couldn't be discreet and serious, have a normal job like your twin; the perfect little Robby, pride and joy of the family. He was in the navy, serving the country, and your father liked to remind you that Robert was doing something useful, something great. Yet, you didn't care what the public and your family thought of you. You just wanted to play your songs, have fun on stage and in the studio. It was your cop-out after some traumatic experiences you went through in high school.

As for your problems with the band, it was a different kettle of fish.

You were the lead vocalist and guitarist. You loved being on stage, it made you feel powerful, in control. You were backed by three talented but lazy guys about your age. It was your agent's idea to put you in charge of them. And what a great idea. At first it was fun, you had a good time. But as time went by, their excesses slowed down your rise in the charts. And they wasted all their time, energy and money on the wrong things. Every day, the press had a scoop about them doing something illegal or immoral. The last one on their list was being seen exiting a bar with underage fans.

Those recent events forced your label to give you a choice; either the whole group was fired or you could continue as a solo artist; your producer and staff knew that you weren't really a troublemaker, so it was a once in a lifetime opportunity for you. You didn't even hesitate to sign your new contract ; and that led to a new scandal in the press, creating false drama between you and your ex mates. But as much as you were determined to make a name for yourself, you also needed a break from all the “scandal” that was going on. You made a deal with your producer and new agent: you had one month to come up with at least two singles, while you could go anywhere you wanted to find inspiration and relax.

And what could be more relaxing than the seaside ? The beach, the sun, the salty air, the feeling of being in an eternal summer ? It was perfect. You booked your flight to San Diego and rented a small beach house on Airbnb. What could possibly go wrong?

Well, maybe running into your twin brother at the local bar.

The Hard Deck seemed like a pretty chill place and the owner, Penny, was really nice. You spent some evenings there, trying to come up with some lyrics over a Coke. She was curious and you were happy to share what you were working on, even though you hadn't made any progress. She had that reassuring aura, and talking with her was like talking to an old friend that you knew all your life. She was genuinely interested in what you had to share, and gave you some advice when she could. She also was curious to hear your voice and tried a few times to get you at the piano. You refused politely each time, feeling strangely shy.

It took you a week and a half to work up the courage to go to that piano.

The bar was rather empty, which was unusual for a Saturday night but made it easier for you to convince yourself that it was okay. You discreetly started to warm up your voice and started a version of Your Song - Penny confessed to you it was one of her favorite songs.

In a corner of the bar, by the pool table, a group of pilots were surprised to hear the piano playing at this hour. "Looks like someone stole your seat, Bradshaw," a tall blond man sneered. "Looks like it, Seresin." Bradley raised an eyebrow and leaned over to see who had taken his place at the piano. The others gently urged him to join them; after all, he was the musician among the squad. He pretended to be annoyed by their request and joined you for the last chorus. You were surprised, but smiled quietly and finished your "performance" with him. You made room for him on the little bench, and with a look of approval, you moved on to another song of his choice: Ain't no mountain higher . The patrons of the bar, who had become more numerous, were delighted to have a private mini-concert. Some of them started to dance, others joined in singing. It was a fun experience.

After the end of the song, you smiled and shook the hand of your partner of a moment and let him enjoy the piano by himself. You made your way back to your stool and asked Penny for a glass of water. You felt a presence next to you and turned a little to see who was there. You easily guessed it was a navy man ; the uniform - talk about obvious -, the perfectly styled hair. You grinned at the tall blond man in front of you.

“So, does that pretty voice have a name ?” asked Jake with a smirk. You rolled your eyes at his flirtatious tone and his pushed Texan accent. “Well yes actually, I’m-” “Y/N ?” You frowned, immediately recognizing the voice that had spoken your name. You easily spotted his surprised face among the other navy people that were close to you and Jake. "Robert?" "Don't tell me you're his girlfriend..." "What? No!" you shouted at the same time, making a few of the others giggle. "Gross!" you pretended to vomit. "She's my sister, Hangman," Bob sighed. "Twin sister, to be exact," you precised.

You couldn't help but giggle at the shocked looks on the faces of who you assumed were his colleagues. He was suddenly flooded with questions, and you enjoyed watching him turn redder and redder. Then they focused on you. "You two don't look alike at all," Reuben said, scanning you in detail. You rolled your eyes and smiled, leaning against your brother as you poked his side. "Robert took the height and brains, I took the charm and talent."

Your brother sighed and ran his hand over his neck, slightly embarrassed. His teammates were happy to meet you, especially happy to annoy Bob, and Natasha seemed to realize something. "Your voice sounds familiar... I've heard it somewhere before... in a band, right?" " Nemesis ," you smiled and nodded, mentioning your old band, "but I'm solo now. Kept the stage name though." "Quite a few scandals with that band..." your twin mumbled. You decided not to pay attention to him. Like your parents, Robert had never understood your career choice, arguing that you were brilliant at school and could have done anything else. Of course you were pretty intelligent but you had fallen in love with music as an outlet for your pain. But your family didn’t seem to accept your way of coping with your traumas.

The rest of the evening went off without a hitch. You got to know your brother's second family. They all had their own personalities, but that's what made them so endearing. Jake invited you to join them the next day, since it was their day off and they wanted to relax at the beach. You gladly accepted.

Robert didn't say much to you, the atmosphere between you was cold and tense. Natasha noticed it, so she joined her WSO to chat. "What's wrong, Bob? Your sister seems nice and yet you're here, not saying anything to her." He sighed a little as he watched you chatting and having fun with the others. "I'm worried about her," he confessed, "she… she hides herself in that personna… that Nemesis …” “Aren't all artists ? I mean, they wouldn't take a stage name otherwise.” “I guess… but I’m scared she’s losing herself…” he said softly, glancing at you. He grumbled when he noticed that Jake was flirting with you; and you didn't seem to refuse his advances either. Natasha let out a soft “damn” when Jake slid his arm around you and Bob almost jumped off his seat, mumbling an irritated “that’s it”.

You felt a strong hand gripping your wrist and you were drawn out of Jake’s embrace and out the bar. “The hell Robby ?” you scoffed once outside, “I was in the middle of a conversation !” “No you weren’t, you were flirting ! With one of my teammates !” “First off, he initiated it ! And second, in what world is that your business ? We’re grown ups, I can handle some flirting !” “Well, first off , you’re my sister and second , Hangman is… he’s not the type to settle down !” he tried to explain himself but you just rolled your eyes. “Oh my god, you sound just like dad ! Why should I settle down ? I’m having fun, I’m happy that way !” You pinched the bridge of your nose, annoyed. “Stop trying to father me, I’m doing fine since I left !” “Yeah, you seem real good in the local news,” he mumbles, putting his hands in his pockets. He didn't even look at you as he said those words. You hated it when he did that, always half-assing his thoughts. You couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh, tilting your head back. “And now you sound like mom. I can handle my life just fine Robert. I don’t need your concern, let alone your judgment ! I’ve never been better, ok ? Leave me the fuck alone !”

You were lying. You both knew that. He could read into you so easily, it made you sick. Call it ‘twin magic’ or ‘sibling intuition’, you still hated the way his blue eyes looked at you with worry and questions in them, knowing all too well that you were not fine.

You passed him, going back to the bar to get your stuff and pay Penny. Out of spit - and mostly because you wanted to - you handed your number to Jake and left with a smirk. You could hear the squad gently hassle Hangman who proudly showed off the piece of paper you gave him.

A little fun won’t kill you, would it ?

The next day, you joined the Dagger squad on the beach, near the Hard Deck.

They were playing a strange football game ; dogfight football , attack and defense at the same time, Natasha explained to you. You watched their first round and second, it seemed fun. At least, Bob seemed to have fun. You remembered he was not a teamsport guy younger. He actually hated the fact that your dad made him go to the tryouts for the football team in high school. To his misfortune, he got in. You smiled and sighed remembering those days. Sometimes, you missed the time you were close to your twin, when you could tell him everything, before it all fell apart in junior year. A cold shiver ran down your spine while you thought back about it. Your life changed so much at that time, you didn’t like to remember it.

Crouching in front of you, Jake snapped you out of your reverie. “Hey there darlin, care to join us ? We’ll be gentle, promise.” he said with a playful grin. You arched an eyebrow and sneered. “Oh please, don’t be, I can handle it.” He laughed and helped you up. You were put in his team against Natasha, Bob, Bradley and Reuben. You were - to your own surprise - pretty fast and efficient. Javy and Jake joked around saying that being stealth had to be running in the family.

You really had fun, even laughing with your brother. You didn’t know who won but you scored the last point of the game, and Jake put you on his shoulders to celebrate before tossing you in the water. “You’re a dead man, Seresin !” you shouted, before laughing. Robert helped you out the water and gave you a towel without a word. You silently thanked him and you all took a water break while deciding what to eat.

Reuben and Mickey volunteered to go get the pizzas and while they did, Natasha proposed a volleyball match. She decided that Bob and you would be in her team and you smiled. Bob couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle ; the two of you loved that sport when you were kids. When you went to your grandma's house for the holidays, you used to play against your cousins. Of course, you kicked their ass. They called you the Evil Twins. Once your heads were in the game, you were unstoppable. And Bradley, Jake and Javy would soon understand why you and Bob were so happy to be on the same team.

The two of you didn’t even need to talk to understand the next move of the other. Even Natasha didn’t really understand what was happening. You won the first, then second, then third match. You laughed at the exasperation of Jake and Javy, Bradley on the other hand was just tired of running around. He quit with Natasha, leaving Jake and Javy to find a strategy to strike Bob and you down. “Like the old times huh ?” your twin smiled, giving you a bottle of water. You returned the smile and nodded. “Let’s show them. Evil Twins ?” “Evil Twins.” He clapped his hands with yours with a grin. Oh, the other two weren't ready for the beating they were about to get.

Javy called it quits after the third set. They lost them all and he was getting tired. Jake was pouting while you jumped on your brother’s back. “Evil Twins for the win !” Natasha laughed. You giggled, while Robert ran around like a doofus, you on his back, taunting Jake. "Don't tease him too much, you know he's a sore loser!" sneered Bradley. "Nonsense!" sulked Jake, "I always accept my defeats, except they never happen.” The rest of the team rolled their eyes, both annoyed and amused.

Reuben and Mickey returned with the pizzas, and the rest of the afternoon was less athletic. Some went for a swim, others played cards in the shade of an umbrella. You chatted peacefully with Natasha and Jake, Robert never too far away. Strangely enough, you were glad he stayed close. Sometimes he would join in the conversation, but he remained Bob, preferring to watch and listen rather than talk. It was a nice afternoon, you felt like a teenager on holiday with a bunch of friends. Bradley and Javy started a water fight by grabbing Bob and throwing him in the water. You and Natasha ran at the boys to avenge him and one thing led to another and you all ended up in the water, friendly fighting each other.

The sun slowly got low, the afternoon ending peacefully. You stayed at the bar with the squad, learning more about each one, more about your brother’s ‘new’ life. They told you about their life on base and about the bird strike that Natasha and Bob had suffered from. You scolded your twin because he never told you about it. He defended himself by saying that it was not that big of a deal, but by the looks on the others' faces, you knew he lied.

Part of you was jealous of him. You both left home around the same time, and he seemed so happy now, away from your parents and their intrusive presence, away from your father's demoralizing, degrading and demotivating comments. You couldn't understand how he could be doing so well when you were struggling to find yourself, to be happy. This question echoed in your head and made you feel too much in the room. You excused yourself and went outside for some fresh air. You were pale and shaking, and anxiety was getting the better of you. You tried to ease your breathing and closed your eyes to focus on the sound of the waves in front of you. You could hear the laughter and indescribable conversations in the distance, mingled with the music and singing. It was somewhat peaceful and yet you couldn't calm the flood of painful memories that invaded your mind. Every laugh reminded you of your ex's, every burst of voice a little too loud made you cower. You didn't want to think about it anymore. You wanted to forget everything. You just wanted it to stop. It had to stop. You had to get away from it all. You had to-

“Y/N ? Are you ok ?”

Your brother's gentle voice made everything disappear. You felt yourself breathe again. But you knew it would only be temporary ; because seeing him worried would make you weak and anxious again. You took a deep, shaky breath before turning to him. You tried to hide the tremble of your voice, and put on a fake smile. "It's okay... I... I have to go home. Thanks for today, it was fun!" You passed him in a hurry, still pale and scrapie.

He sighed and bit his lip before summoning his courage. "What are you running from? You... you looked like you were fine, and then all of a sudden you're running away. " "Robby, please-" "What happened?" "Nothing, I-" "Did someone say something?" "No! I just-" "Did I say or do something wrong? Tell me!" "Then let me talk for god’s sake !" you clenched your fists then sighed. "You didn't do anything wrong, Robby. It's just that... I can't..." your voice cracked a little and you leaned your head back to hold back your tears. Bob's head tilted in concern and he stepped towards you. "Can't what? You can't do what?"

You didn't answer, shaking your head. You couldn't put into words the confusion you felt. You searched for words and began to pace back and forth. "Can't do what Y/N?" Robert insisted gently. "I... fuck... fuck."

Your voice and your whole body were shaking. It was getting harder and harder to hold back the tears. How could you tell your brother that you envied him and hated that feeling ? How could you envy him for building his life, a life filled with healthy loved ones that were there for him? How could you hold a grudge when he was the one who got you out of your abusive relationship at the risk of his acceptance into the naval academy ?

He took another step towards you, reaching for your hand, but you stepped back. "Hey, come on, tell me-" "I can't get over it, okay?! I-I can't figure out how and why you managed to grow up and I'm stuck at 17! Why do I always feel like I'm in pieces, alone, like he 's still running my life, like he 's always there, over my shoulder, no matter what I do?" "Y/N... it wasn't your fault-" "I know!!! I fucking know it wasn't my fault!!” you cut him, almost screaming, “I know he 's the one who did this to me, who pretended to love me, who beat the shit out of me and abused me every single day for months! I know all of that ! Then why am I still stuck there ? Why am I the one still struggling?! Why am I the one who feels like a complete failure ? Why can't I let it go?!" your bottom lip was trembling as tears rolled down your face. “Why can’t I just move on ? Why do I always hear dad saying ‘told you so’ or mom sighing every time I mess up ? Why don’t they ever want to talk about what happened but they urge me to just forget about it ?! Why don't they support me ? Why don’t you ?!”

You gasped, trying to catch your breath, before you whimpered and cried like a baby. Bob stood still for a moment before pulling you into his arms and hugging you. He suspected that the events of your past were still haunting you, but not to this extent. And you felt that he didn't support you... he felt like shit. How could he neglect your feelings so much, how could he act the way he blamed your parents? He let you cry against him for a long moment, swallowing his discomfort. He was the one to blame, and he had to focus on you. "I... I'm sorry, Y/N. I... I didn't realize that my behavior was hurting you… I'm just worried, and I didn't show it the right way. I'm an idiot." "A big idiot," you mumbled, sniffling. "Yes, a big idiot. And I'd really like you to let me help you. We... We have contacts with some really good therapists for post-traumatic stress and stuff... I could give you their numbers?" You just nodded, your tears finally stopping. "I'm sorry I yelled at you..." you mumbled. Bob smiled and pinched your side. "Don't be, I deserved it. I’m sorry I tried to interfere between you and Hangman…" “He’s actually a sweet guy behind his smug facade, y'know ?” you smiled and chuckled to his falsely doubtful face and the little 'meh' he let out.

As promised, Bob put you in touch with the therapists he'd told you about, and negotiated a longer return period with your agency. You had a full month and a half more. You started to really work on the singles, and your sessions with the therapist were helping. You knew you'd have to keep seeing one when you got home. But going wasn’t something you wanted to think about. As the days went by, you didn't want to leave San Diego. Your brother and the Dagger Squad were stationed here permanently, and you needed him in your life.

Him and Jake.

You always thought that the two of you were just a fling, that you or he would get tired of it and move on. But neither of you did. You spent more and more time with him, he'd crash at your Airbnb - uninvited - every now and then with a movie or dinner. The more time you spent with him, the more you fell for him and you didn't want it to end as a one-night stand, you knew that much.

As you got to dig beneath his proud, cocky, arrogant facade, you discovered a gentle man full of insecurities. He talked about his father, who was not exactly the ideal role model and the fact that he didn’t have the best of relations with him. He talked about his mama, and with the look he had in his eyes, you knew he worshiped the woman ; based on what he shared, you figured Mrs Seresin was more than strong and dedicated to her children. He told you about his sisters, both of them a couple of years older than him, and his nieces and nephews. He loved the munchkins - his terms, not yours - and you saw in his eyes how much he meant it. They were his whole world, but he’d never admit it.

You tried to take your time with him but he had a strange effect on you ; you found yourself opening up to him, faster than you thought. You'd never told anyone about your abusive relationship - except Robert. And Jake had listened to you without judgment or interruption. He sat there, ready to absorb any information you wanted and were able to share.

So you were torn between your desire to get back to the recording studio in New York, to get back to work, and your desire to stay in the peaceful everyday life you'd created in just a few weeks. You had to go back. You had obligations to keep. Maybe after you fulfilled your part of the contract, you could negotiate and come back to San Diego? This thought was the only thing that kept you working hard. You succeeded in writing three more singles than the agreed two. You were quite pleased with yourself.

And sooner than you realized, you had to go back to New York.

Natasha, with the help of the rest of the team, had organized a little surprise going-away party at the Hard Deck. Penny was in on the secret and had given them the bar to themselves. You loved the surprise and the evening was unforgettable. Bradley had insisted on karaoke, and you dragged your twin along. Robert rolled his eyes, but played along. You had the time of your life and enjoyed every second of this last night with your new friends. They made you promise to call them whenever you could, to think of them and to come back as soon as possible. They took you home and spent a few more hours with you before letting you rest. But just when you thought everyone was gone, you found Jake on the couch, waiting for you. You felt butterflies in your stomach as you saw him there, his eyes anchored in yours. You detailed his face, as if to remember it after you'd left; his slightly wavy blond hair, those beautiful green eyes, his perfect jawline, his cocky smile. That damn smile that made you weak in the knees like a teenager. God, you hated that smile as much as you loved it.

"Enjoying the view?"

You didn't realize that he had stood up and was now so close to you. A deep blush spread across your cheeks and yet you couldn't take your eyes off him, your gaze locked with his. You bit your lip and grinned. "So what if I am, big boy?" you teased. He huffed, amused, and his hand slowly reached for yours, your knuckles brushing. His other hand reached for your cheek, his thumb stroking it tenderly. You leaned into his touch, feeling yourself melt under his gaze. He said nothing, his eyes never leaving you. "What?" you whispered, your heart beating a little faster. "That's how I want to remember you." "Like what? Tipsy and tired?" you laughed a little. "Na. Happy... relaxed... you look beautiful." Jake whispered back, his cheeks taking on a rosy hue. Your stomach fluttered and you found the courage to interlock his fingers with yours. "Sounds like I have you under my siren's spell, Lieutenant..." you teased, biting your lip. "You certainly do, ma'am," he whispered again, the gap between the two of you only a few inches. You felt your confidence slip from your fingers, your eyes on his lips.

"Kiss me..."

It's an almost inaudible beg that escaped you, and you didn't even have time to be embarrassed that you felt him on your lips. The kiss was sweet, tender. You squeezed his hand into yours, and his free one slid around your waist, holding you close. You wanted the kiss to last forever. With amazing ease, Jake lifted you against him, his hands going under your thighs. You wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. He carried you into the bedroom, his lips exploring yours, your jaw, your neck and your collarbone. Your fingers brushed through his soft hair and soon you felt your back against the mattress. Your clothes ended up chaotically thrown around the room as you undressed and kissed each other. The moon gave you just enough light to never lose sight of him. His eyes devoured you before his hands discovered your body. He asked you if you were okay every step of the way, and you never thought being asked for consent could be so arousing.

That night was the best sex you've ever had. It was slow and tender at first, and when you were both comfortable enough, it got rougher, in a good way. You fell asleep curled up against him, rocked by his heartbeat.

The next morning you woke up alone in bed. Jake left a note on the nightstand, saying he had to go to work early. "Call me when you can, have a safe flight. PS: Gonna miss you. PPS: If anything happens to you on the flight, I'll hunt the pilot." You chuckled and tucked the post-it into your notebook. You quickly got ready and Robert took you to the airport.

The ride was rather quiet, neither of you wanting to be separated again. He helped you with your luggage and waited with you until you finally had to go. You hugged him tightly and thanked him for the past weeks. "Call me when you get there, okay? And don't forget to hydrate. And eat. And..." "Ok Dad," you joked with a smile, "I'll call you, don't worry. Love you, Robby." "I love you too. Be safe."

8 months.

You have been stuck in New York for 8 long months. You did a lot though. A new album, some concerts, some interviews and photo shoots. The 'scandals' in the press disappeared and the journalists finally focused more on your songs. You video called the Daggers as much as you could - almost every day - and texted a lot with your brother, reassuring him that you continued to see a therapist and that you were doing well under the stress. But the one you called and texted the most was Jake. Every day you had a sweet good morning text, and every night you had an equally sweet good night text.

You missed him.

You missed them all, of course. But Jake Seresin was under your skin. And as hard as it was to admit, you loved him. You couldn't wait to see him again. Of course, no one knew you were together. Natasha seemed to have doubts, and sometimes Bob was somewhat suspicious too but as long as they didn’t ask you didn’t say anything.

8 months of hard work and your agent agreed to let you go to San Diego as he made an arrangement between a recording studio and your label. You told no one but Penny. You wanted to surprise the team. You had one last show to do in New York and then you would catch your flight to California.

Before the concert, you called your brother, knowing that he would probably be at the Hard Deck with the others, since it was almost 7:00 p.m there. As soon as he answered, you could hear the team around him. "Wow, look at you Nemesis! You look great!" Natasha said, smiling broadly. You laughed and thanked her when you heard the other whistle and complimented you. "Not too stressed?" Bob asked as the others calmed down. "Well, it's the last show for at least six weeks. I’ll try to make it fun!" "Of course you will," said a voice you recognized immediately. "Hangman, you look good," you teased as you saw him appear on the screen. You noticed the slight blush on his cheeks as he spotted you in your dress and makeup. He didn't have time to reply that you had to go on stage. "Ok bye guys, gotta go, love you!" you hung up and had time to see a text message on your phone : 'You better keep that dress'. You smiled. You may have fallen in love with Jake, but you also knew you had him wrapped around your finger.

The show went smoothly, and after a celebratory dinner with your team, you went back to your soon-to-be-outdated apartment. All your things were packed and ready to go. You couldn't wait to move to San Diego. Your flight was at 3 pm in New York and you were scheduled to land in California at 6 pm. Bless the time zone difference, if you were lucky, you could get to the Hard Deck before the team and wait for them.

But since nothing ever goes exactly according to plan, your flight was an hour late. That wasn't too bad, you could still surprise them, you just had to change the way. You contacted Penny and asked her if she could manage to distract them. She agreed and gave you permission to use the back door to be more discreet when you entered. Your excitement was through the roof, you felt like a child on Christmas Day. By the time your cab reached the bar, your heart was pounding in your chest. You couldn't believe you were finally there, finally where you felt at home. But you had to be reunited with those you considered family to feel completely at home. You almost ran to the back door of the bar, re-reading the instructions Penny had sent you: she'd distract the Daggers by asking them to bring back some heavy beer packs and other beverages, and you could hide discreetly by the pool table.

The perfect plan.

You did as she said, a smile forming on your lips as you heard your friends in the distance. You were stressed, but not in an anxious way, you just couldn't wait. You picked up a pool cue to keep your hands busy. When you finally heard them coming, you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from screaming ‘surprise!’. The first person to spot you was Mickey. His eyes widened and he stopped dead in his tracks, almost tripping Reuben, Natasha and Javy. They didn't have time to grumble before Mickey pointed at you, speechless. A small laugh escaped you as they froze in front of you, one after the other. Only Jake, Bradley and Robert were missing. Bradley and your twin were chatting, a little bit behind, and you soon heard Robert's voice.

"Are you guys okay? You look like you've seen a ghost..." His voice became almost inaudible at the end of his sentence, as he realized they were all staring at you. You smiled at them and tilted your head. "Are we playing, or are you afraid of losing?" you asked with a bit of a laugh. Natasha couldn't hold back her laughter and almost ran to hug you. "It's good to see you again, Mini Floyd."

The others came right after to greet you, hugging you and sometimes lifting you off the ground. You laughed, happy to see them again. Your twin was still frozen, not believing his eyes. You scooted up to him and pinched his cheeks. "Good evening Robby, did you-" You didn't even have time to finish your sentence before he pulled you into his arms. You smiled and hugged him as tightly as you could, small tears of joy escaping from both of you. "It's good to see you," he finally said, "Missed your stupid face.” "Oh I know you did, you can't live without me dearest brother !" you chuckled. You caught up with everyone, admitting that you were on a break, but not telling them that you were here for good. You wanted everyone to be here to make that announcement but someone was missing.

You paid for your round of beers - and sparkling water for Bob - and went looking for Jake. Why wasn't he here? Penny grinned as she noticed the look on your face. "Don't worry Y/N, he's just on the phone with his sister. One of his nephews' birthdays, I think." "Thanks Pen- Wait, what are you-" "I know everything dear, he talks too much for his own good if you ask the good questions." "How did you find out?" you whispered, making sure no one was listening. "Well, it wasn't really hard. Some of your interviews or shows have been aired," she pointed at the old TV, "and the calls you made ; he just had that look in his eyes. I can tell when a man is head over heels. He certainly is."

You blinked and shook your head in disbelief. Of course she'd guessed; Penny knew the squadron like her own children. She chuckled and handed you another beer. “Go surprise him.” You smiled and nodded, heading to the front door. Your heart fluttered when you finally heard Jake’s voice. It was hushed but you could feel his smile through his soft laughter. You waited for him to end his call, still hidden by the door. You bit back a chuckle when you heard him saying goodbye to the kids with a baby voice. It was ridiculously adorable.

“Hello stranger, does that pretty voice have a name ? ”

He was a bit startled and turned to you hastily, not believing his ears. A surprised expression appeared on his face, but a flirtatious smile quickly took its place. "That's my line, baby." "Oh really? Supposed I forgot," You grinned proudly and took a step towards him, "Did ya miss me, big boy?" He grinned and grabbed your waist, sending a sweet shiver down your spine. "Not as much as you missed me." You rolled your eyes in amusement and set the beer you had brought him aside. You took a moment to just drown in his green eyes, the light of the sunset making them look surreal. How could he be so handsome ?

He was quite speechless to have you here, it made you smile. Jake was always so talkative, it was strange to have him so quiet around you. "Cat got your tongue, Seresin?" He chuckled and stroked your cheek. "Why don't you check?" You smiled and finally kissed him. You had waited 8 months for this feeling and it was just so good. His soft lips against yours, his strong hands on your waist, fingers digging lightly into your flesh. You put your hands on his neck, parted your lips to let his tongue reach for yours. One of his hands slid up to cup your cheek and you leaned into his touch as the kiss ended. "I have to admit, I missed that," he whispered with a grin, his forehead pressed gently against yours. You huffed and rolled your eyes, "Told you I had you under my spell." He laughed and kissed the nape of your neck, holding you close. You smiled and stroked his hair before stepping back. "Let's join the team before ‘Tasha gets suspicious."

You took his hand and headed inside, eager to tell your friends the big news.

You missed the atmosphere of the Hard Deck. The soft songs from the jukebox, the always nice patrons, your favorite people at the pool table or playing darts... everything was so comforting. Your smile widened when you reached the Daggers, dragging Jake with you. "Look who I found outside," you teased, "good old Hangman.” "Ah, you should have let him out," Bradley sneered, sipping his beer. “Real funny Bradshaw, I know you already missed me.”

You let the two men fight like two children and when you noticed Natasha's eyes on your hand in Jake's, you blushed a little. She grinned and whispered something to Reuben. You could read a little 'damn it !' on his lips as he frowned. "Okay guys, Javy and I won! The bet is over!" "What? No!" Bradley was outraged. He grumbled and handed Natasha a bill. "Wait a minute, what bet?" your twin asked. "Well, my dear Bob, it seems that our little Jake and your sister... are together." You blushed and wanted to hide, not knowing how your brother would react. Jake was already arguing with Javy, telling him he was a traitor for betting on it, since he had confided in him on the subject.

"Oh, I've known for a while," Robert said simply with a smile. "What?!" you huffed, letting go of your boyfriend's hand to face your twin. "What do you mean you knew?" "Well, for starters, Jake stayed with you the night before you went back to New York. And you hid the hickey he left on your neck badly. Then I got suspicious when every time we ended our video calls, he got one in the next two minutes; and he's not the most discreet when he's on the phone. But I knew it when he bought that really nice necklace and asked me, of all people, for advice. A week later you were wearing it. So yeah, I knew," he shrugged with a smile, laughing a little at your expression. "What? I just thought that neither of you were ready to tell anyone? But you seem happy so it's okay."

You were surprised. You didn't think he'd take it so well, but you weren't going to complain.

So the evening began with a secret revealed. You didn't hesitate to stay close to Jake, even ending up on his lap when the bar was full. You listened to their adventures from the last few months - at least what they were allowed to share. It was good to be with them again, to find that comfort. After Mickey bought his round, he turned to you. "Well, let's ask the burning question: how long are you staying?" "To tell you the truth... I'm not leaving. I'm moving into my little house 10 minutes from here tomorrow," you smiled. "And you didn't tell me?!" said Jake and Bob at the same time, making them blush under the laughter of the others. "I wanted to surprise you! I've got a new deal with my label, so I can stay here." "Cheers to that! To the definitive return of Y/N Nemesis Floyd," Bradley decreed, raising his beer.

You all laughed and toasted each other, happy with the news.

All was finally well.

You had finally found your place, and you wouldn't change it for the world.

#top gun maverick #top gun imagine #post movie top gun maverick #twin brother!bob floyd #robert floyd #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #bradley bradshaw #natasha trace #penny benjamin #javy machado #mickey garcia #reuben fitch #pov second person #angst with a happy ending

217 notes · View notes

topgun-imagines · 1 year

Text

Nothing to Lose

Requested: no

Summary: The real reason behind why Jake Seresin’s flying is so reckless.

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: Mentions of car crashes, death, child loss.

Note: I apologize in advance.

Parings: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Wife!reader

It was amazing how fast rumors could spread at Top Gun. People were constantly gossiping about who did what, who had a drink with who. A common one was who slept with who. That one seemed to be the topic of right now. Many pilots and WSO’s could be found in the Hard Deck discussing this particular topic, eyes darting around the room as they watched people leave. But, as usual, the pilots and WSO’s of Top Gun ran out of rumors to spread. When they were especially bored, they would turn to people’s flying, critiquing their skill and ability until they inevitably gave up on that too. There was still one incredible rumor floating around Top Gun. It had yet to be answered but there seemed to be new theories every day.

Why was Jake Seresin’s flying so reckless?

The answer was simple. While no one knew it, everyone speculated. He had a mission go sideways overseas, he was overly cocky, he was flying against the ghost of the man his father wanted him to be; the ideas seemed to get crazier with every passing day. Regardless of how many theories there were, no one would ever get it right. Jake kept that secret closely guarded. No one else knew about it. And if Jake had it his way, no one would ever find out.

He was sitting at the bar, listening to people gossip all around him. The pilot had been called to Top gun a few weeks ago. He practically jumped at the chance to escape his old town. Austin was full of too many bad memories. Jake had never been close to anyone, and coming to Top Gun as the only member of his squadron seemed to prove that to him.

Just as he was about to pay his tab, a man approached him. “Hangman,” The man started, staring down at the blond with a small smirk. “I’m Coyote. Nice to officially meet you,” Jake bit his tongue before forcing a smile. He had seen the man in class the day before; he seemed like the kind of man that was easy to make friends with. Which was exactly what Jake didn’t need right now. Jake slid his card over to Penny. He couldn’t wait to get back to his quarters. “Me and my friend have a little wager,” The taller man nodded back toward a black-haired woman that was sitting by the dart board. Jake raised a single eyebrow, not really caring where this conversation was going. “She says that you have a girlfriend. I said no way in hell.” The blond pilot sucked in a sharp breath.

Without responding to the man, Jake plucked his card out of Penny’s hand and turned around. He left the bar, leaving the man standing behind him. “What the hell man?” Coyote called out. With a shake of his head, he made his way back to the table. He wasn’t going to let some blond pilot ruin his night with Natasha.

The truck was silent as Jake drove to his quarters. He had shut off the radio the second he climbed into the beat-up truck. The window was rolled down, fresh air streaming into the truck as he sped down the highway. Honestly, he was shocked at the fact that the man’s statement had affected him as much as it did. Jake spent the rest of the ride with his head in the clouds, mind drifting back to a past that he thought he had left behind.

He pulled into the driveway of his temporary housing. To him, it was far from a home. The headlight flashed against dark windows, briefly displaying the emptiness inside of the house. Jake killed the engine. He sat in the truck for a few minutes, willing himself to forget everything that had just rushed back to the surface. Everything that he had tried so hard to push down. With a final shaky breath, he hopped out of the car and headed into the house.

Flicking the lights on, he slipped out of his shoes. The pilot moved through the house slowly, eventually winding up in the bathroom. The reflection that stared back at him was blank, barely showing any hint of emotion whatsoever. He pulled his T-shirt over his head quickly, discarding it into the growing pile of dirty laundry by the door. When his eyes landed on his dog tags his breath hitched. The rings that dangled from it taunted him, mocked him for why they were hanging there. His eyes drifted down to his own ring finger, finding the shiny gold band glinting back at him.

Jake cleared his throat and finished getting ready. He brushed his teeth quickly, attempting to ignore everything that he was feeling. Memories attached to those rings couldn’t help but rush to the surface. When he was done Jake climbed into bed and let his eyes slip shut, willing his mind to allow him one night of peaceful sleep. But after today’s events, he knew that that was unlikely.

Jake awoke with a start. For almost a year now his dreams had been plagued with memories from that day. He checked the time. 5am. That was longer than he usually lasted. Even though he hadn’t been there to witness it, the horrid image from the hospital was enough to fill his mind with pictures of what could have happened. With a sigh, the blond hopped out of bed. He flicked on the bedside lamp as he began to get ready for his day.

First, he made a coffee for himself. It had the perfect amount of creamer. Just how you used to make it. Then he practically chugged the drink, inhaling sharply as pictures of her flooded his mind. He pulled a random T-shirt over his head before slipping on his leggings. A quick run by the beach should do him some good. He didn’t bother locking the house as he exited. It’s not like there was much inside that he valued anyways.

The air was crisp as he began his run. At this time of the morning the sun was barely above the horizon, only a small sliver of light peaking up over the sea. The house that he had been given was right on the beach. Wind that blew in from the sea helped clear his head. He kept running, mind moving faster than he ever thought was possible. You were the light of his life. Until one faithful day that was all taken from him. Jake ran faster. Maybe if he focused on the pounding of his heart the pain would disappear.

Before he even realized it he was back in front of his door. The pilot heaved a sigh and headed inside. The house was still dark when he slipped into the shower. After a quick rinse he was pulling on his service khakis and hopping in the truck. The drive to base was around 20 minutes. Jake kept the radio off as he drove. When he finally pulled into the parking lot the sun had just begun to rise above the horizon. There was only one other car in the student section.

Jake walked through the long hallways before stepping into the classroom they were scheduled to be in today. Inside, he found the man and woman from the night before sitting next to each other. They were laughing quietly together, the woman’s hand resting on his arm. The second he walked into the room the pair quieted down. When Jake took his seat near the back of the room the man, Coyote, if he remembered correctly, approached him and slid into the chair next to him. He paid the man no mind, opening his journal and beginning to take down a few notes that he missed from the day before. “Hangman,” Coyote started, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Nice to see you again.” The blond pilot simply scoffed quietly.

This man seemed to love getting on Jake’s nerves. “What do you want?” Jake didn’t bother looking up at him. When the man beside him didn’t respond Jake’s eyes cut up to him. He raised a single eyebrow Jake sighed and leaned back in the chair. “Can I help you with something?” That seemed to snap the man out of his daydream. Jake’s breath caught when he saw that the man’s eyes were trained on his wedding band.

“About last night,” Jake could have punched his lights out over that sentence alone. Coyote could sense the man’s discomfort. “Look, I’m sorry,” He started. Jake’s eyebrows furrowed. He watched as the woman at the front of the classroom stood up from her seat. Checking the clock out of the corner of his eye he saw that they had around 30 minutes before class started. Why would she be leaving now? Before she left the room she leaned down next to Coyote and whispered something in his ear. He responded with a soft smile. He turned back to Jake before continuing. “I really didn’t mean to offend you or anything.”

Jake watched him curiously. “It’s fine,” he dismissed. When the man didn’t move from his spot Jake came to realize something. Coyote wasn’t just apologizing, he was waiting for Jake to answer his question from last night. Instead of answering directly, he responded with one of his own. “How much did you put on this bet?” He could see Coyote’s mouth drop from the corner of his eye.

He stuttered slightly. Eventually, he cleared his throat and responded. There was a small smirk on his face as he spoke. “A significant sum.” Jake could hear the confidence oozing from his voice.

Nodding his head, Jake finished what he was writing before shutting his notebook. “You lost,” His voice was sharp and clipped. Coyote opened his mouth as if he was going to apologize when Jake cut him off. “You wanna know the truth?” He honestly didn’t know why he was going to tell this complete stranger one of his deepest secrets but something in his gut told him he could trust him. Coyote couldn’t help but nod softly. “I had a wife, and a child. And one day, just because some truck driver couldn’t keep his hands off his phone for 30 seconds I lost both of them.” Coyote instantly regretted ever asking in the first place. It was apparent to him now more than ever that this was not his place.

“She was on her way to the hospital,” Jake continued. “I was out of town, running a few errands and I was supposed to meet her there,” Jake’s eyes became watery. This was the first time that he had opened up about what happened to you. “She was going to have our baby,” A single tear trailed down his cheek. Jake wiped it away quickly. The man beside him continued to listen in silence. He could tell that Jake needed someone to talk to. “The truck came out of nowhere. It was speeding through the intersection and didn’t stop in time,” The blond's eyes drifted down to his wedding band. “I never got to see her or our baby again.”

Coyote could tell that Jake was finished with his story. All the teasing that he and Nat had been doing over the past few days suddenly made him want to vomit. He had made a game of a man’s personal life. He had made a game out of a man’s wife and child that had died in a horrible accident. Who does that? “I’m so sorry, man,” His voice was gentle, trying to soothe and not piss off the aviator in front of him. “I didn’t know.” Jake just nodded in response, wiping the remaining tears from his lashes.

That was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. The pair had agreed to start over, Coyote deciding that maybe Jake wasn’t as bad as he seemed. Eventually Jake opened up more to Coyote, filling him in on personal details that no one else knew about him.

And now Coyote knew why Jake’s flying was so reckless. It wasn’t because he was cocky, or because he had a mission go sideways. It wasn’t even because he was flying against someone he would never be. Finally, someone had the real answer to the age-old rumour. And it wasn’t nearly close to anything that had been speculated. People would still gossip, but for now only one person knew the truth. The reason that Jake Seresin flew so recklessly, was because he had no reason not to. It was because, for nearly a year now, Jake Seresin had nothing to lose.

a/n: Thank you for reading! Requests are open.

2K notes · View notes

waklman · 1 year

Text

Glue Song (Pt. 2)

summary: you meet rooster and jake doesn’t know how to feel about it.

pairing: jake seresin x female reader

warnings: brief mention of death

a/n: more pining, friends to lovers, fluff x angst, rooster x hangman moment (?). part 3 comes next..!

word count: 2.2k

previous part | next part

Jake doesn’t know what gets on his nerves more.

The fact that Javy insisted to go help you grab more cookies from the kitchen, leaving him to brood in his seat alone or the fact that he’s been painfully watching Rooster struggle to squeeze his Bronco between your mini cooper and Jake’s very own Ford truck.

After a heated argument on which pilot should lend you a hand, Javy won on the basis that Jake should be the one to greet Rooster when he arrives. And so, Javy is able to escape the wrath of his seething friend with the most shiteating grin on his face as he got to follow you out back.

Replaying the scene back in his mind leaves Jake annoyed beyond belief, and now that he’s witnessing Rooster back out of the parking spot for the fifth time this evening, he feels his anger flare up even more.

Jake leans back in his seat, throwing his arms across his chest and watches his guest finally stroll through the front doors as if he’s not running late with another variation of his Hawaiin button up slung over his thick shoulders.

Rooster doesn’t know what to say as he carefully steps inside, spotting Hangman sitting by himself. He keeps a neutral expression on but doesn’t know what to make of his view. Hangman is waiting for him by a table of love-themed baked goods. He can't help but to imagine how Natasha would kick him in the balls laughing once he tells her what he’s currently seeing.

Rooster takes in Hangman’s appearance as he gets closer, bewildered that his hair is styled nicely, instead of being slicked back by five pounds of gel. And he can’t recall a time where he’s seen Hangman dressed so casually before. For the first time ever, he acknowledges that Jake looks pretty good.

As he takes his last step over towards the table, Rooster hesitantly speaks.

“Look man. I don’t know if you misunderstood what Mav said but—”

“Sit.” Jake asks through clenched teeth, peeved that Rooster would even assume he’d have any kind of romantic interest in him.

Though slightly horrified at the situation, Rooster obliges anyway—taking a seat, awkwardly adjusting himself in the tiny chair.

The sight was laughable. The two grown men were basically swallowing the small seats they sat in with an array of goodies displayed between them.

Jake looks across the table, his eyes silently trailing up and down Rooster’s body.

Rooster can’t tell if he’s trying to size him up or he’s simply curious about how many Hawaiian printed shirts he owns.

Both men clear their throats and flinch at their synced mannerism.

Before they get a chance to fester in an awkward silence together, Jake feels his phone ring repeatedly in his front pocket.

Jake immediately recognizes the unique text-tone he specifically set for your contact.

Rooster curiously watches Hangman, the man across from him practically shoves half his arm down his pants to grab his phone, a small smile replacing his previously annoyed expression.

Angel

Me and Javy are warming up the cookies now!!

Is that his truck out front???

I'm so excited Jack!!

We’re coming out soon I promose :))

His grin peers back at him in the reflection of his screen as he rereads your typos, you were so happy for him that you didn’t even bother to look over your own spelling.

“Who’s Jack? :(“ he quickly types out in response, shoving his phone back in his pocket.

Jake bunglingly shifts in his seat, attempting to find a comfortable position after realizing that Rooster had been watching him check his phone.

“Coyote is joining us in a bit, and my other friend too.” He speaks so fast Rooster would’ve never caught what he said if he wasn’t paying close attention.

“Oh, alright” he responds.

They both synchronously stare down at the food in front of them before making brief eye contact with each other.

Both men quickly retract their gaze, pretending to look around the shop–unsure if they want to make eye contact with one another again.

Rooster stares off in the direction of the kitchen and spots Coyote walking out, his head looking back over his shoulder to smile at a girl following closely behind him.

“Wait, watch where you’re going.” you draw back your smile, a worried look settling on your face as you kick at Javy’s ankle, alerting him to look ahead.

Pulled in by the sound of your voice, Jake quickly averts his eyes in your direction.

You and Javy are both wearing the new bear paw oven mitts he helped you pick out last weekend as you carry out red velvet cookies together.

He can’t ignore the way his throat tightens as you two make your way over.

Jake doesn’t know what’s gotten into him. He blinks to regain his composure, realizing that he spaced out so severely within the last few minutes that he didn't realize that you and Javy had already politely greeted Rooster and you had taken a seat next to him.

He drops his gaze down to your knee as it bounces nervously, unaware that your leg is slightly rubbing against the side of his jeans.

His eyes trail up to your face, and follows your line of sight. You’re eagerly staring down at the cookies you just put out with Javy, as the two pilots sitting across from you are engaged in friendly conversation.

“Try her stuff.” Jake speaks up, interrupting the conversation.

He quickly rams a cookie into his mouth with his right hand, as his left gently grabs your knee, halting you from giving yourself carpet burn from the way you were furiously rubbing against his denim pants.

Jake feels you look up at him appreciatively from his peripheral as he shovels a chocolate croissant into his already stuffed cheeks next, urging his fellow aviators to join him.

“Mmm so damn good,” he moans—closing his eyes, appreciating the way the chocolate swirls on his tongue.

“Yeah?’ Your shoulders shake, laughing at his reaction. Despite how many times he’s already tried your baking, Jake has never failed to display his enjoyment every time.

Rooster and Javy quickly reach for the closest treat as Jake shoots them a spine chilling look while you distracted yourself, trying to find a napkin from the empty table behind you.

Once you’re fully facing everyone again, you hand Jake his much needed napkin and place a napkin in front of everyone else too.

Javy thanks you by shooting a thumbs up at you since his mouth is full, and you Bradley shyly grins at your kind gesture.

Rooster then takes a big bite of one of your red velvet cookies and feels a wave of nostalgia hit him right in the chest.

“Oh wow. This is amazing,” he compliments you, wide eyed.

It tastes so much like his mother’s cookies that it makes his heart twinge.

“I don’t remember the last time I had something home-made. This is great,” he admits to the group with a smile.

Javy and Jake stills at his statement, knowing the reason why he hasn’t eaten anything home-made in awhile. The duo learned recently that his mother passed not long ago, and his father died in an accident involving Maverick while he was young.

“If you come around here I can whip up something for you. What do you like, Rooster?” you offer, lips pulled into a small smile.

Jake knows that you mean it too. It wasn’t just to make conversation or to distract from the topic—he can almost envision you keeping yourself past store hours to practice new recipes for Rooster.

“These cookies are great as is.” he returns your smile, appreciative that you didn’t attempt to pry or send him a look of pity he’s grown accustomed to receiving.

“How about you come around in the morning with Jake? Maybe it’ll count as bonding time to your boss.” you joke.

Jake feels himself choke on his croissant, Javy pushes a cup of water in his friend’s direction immediately.

Jake fervently nods his head no at your statement after clearing his throat with water.

“Jacob Daniel Seresin.” you scolded, appalled by his manners.

Bradley smiles watching the once cocky pilot he knew shrink in his seat like a kicked puppy as you stare him down.

“Sounds good.” Rooster agrees to watch Jake sulk further.

“Hey are you guys coming down to the Hard Deck next week? Phoenix convinced Penny to reserve the space for just the navy Friday night” Rooster suddenly brings up, picking up another cookie for himself.

“Oh. Yeah I’ll be there, what about you two?” Javy looks at you and Jake.

Jake can practically see the wheels in Javy’s head turning and he wants to splash the rest of his water on him to halt his scheming.

You bite down on your tongue, a nervous habit you could never rid yourself from. Jake has never really brung you around his friends, besides Javy and now Rooster. He knows you run on the introverted side, you’re comfortable meeting others in small intimate settings like this. But a bar–the Hard Deck? Full of boisterous members of the navy running on a couple beers? Jake even grows nervous for you.

“What do you say Hangman? We can have her as our plus one.” Javy offers, slightly provoking Jake.

He looks over at you, trying to decipher your expression but it's unreadable.

“If that's okay with you guys?” you combat his nervous stare with a smile, reaching down to play with his fingers that were currently splayed on your knee.

Jake relaxes a bit, feeling your fingers twist at his graduation ring–but the anxiety still sits at the back of his throat like bile.

You don’t want to disappoint Jake and rudely decline the invite. That was probably the last thing you wanted.

Who knows? Maybe you’ll have fun since Jake and Javy will be there. It’ll be nice to see Jake spend his weekend outside the walls of your apartment for once. You’ve been feeling guilty for keeping him inside so much, although he insisted there wasn't a place he’d rather be.

But you knew deep down, Jake was much more of a social butterfly than you were. He would thrive at a bar filled with people. Your chest warms, knowing that in a room full of others, Jake will always manage to shine and cast his presence onto everyone there like a mirrorball.

“I’ll take that as a yes” Javy grins as you both stare back at him.

Within the following days, Jake learns that he has to share his mornings before work with both you and Rooster.

He tries his best to be civil, making small talk with the two of you but he can’t help but to feel like he was kicked to the curb. His involvement in conversations grows less and less by the day, yet this doesn’t go unnoticed by you. You’ve attempted to pull Jake aside a few times but he insists that he and Rooster are already running late to base–leaving you defeated as you watch him walk past customers and make a beeline for the exit. You know there’s something clearly bothering him and you grow increasingly worried, watching him retract from you like this.

Unbeknownst to you, Jake has the same worried feeling weighing down on him.

Everyday, as you speak to Rooster–Jake takes the time to study your face, admiring your features, trying to commit them to memory–worried that one day he won’t get to see your face as often anymore. He feels his heart sink the second he looks over to Rooster and sees that the brunette has the same admiration for you in his eyes.

The feeling grows worse by the second–and Jake is unsure of what to do with himself.

You even tried to talk about it with him–but for some reason-Jake uses every excuse in the book to avoid the problem. Jake Seresin, a man who thrives off the thrill of confrontation can’t fathom the idea of having a possibly confrontational conversation with you. All because he doesn’t want to hear about what you think about Rooster. He doesn’t want to hear an ounce of praise for the man to leave your lips. He doesn’t want to learn that you grew close with Rooster like how you’ve grown close with him. It’s better if he doesn’t know anything, that would hurt less.

This morning he finds himself standing next to Rooster, dozing off as the mustached man animatedly speaks to you, his muscled body leaned over the counter you worked behind. The scene in front of him makes him feel so nauseous that he hasn’t even made an attempt to taste his latte, afraid that he won’t be able to stomach it.

“Jake?” you softly called out to him, pulling him out of his haze.

He looks up from his coffee and meets your stare from across the counter, he sees you bite down on your tongue–a nervous habit of yours. He feels even more sick.

“Am I still coming over to your place on Friday to get ready with you?” you look up at him hesitantly, afraid he’ll deny your request.

He feels guilt coat the roof of his mouth. You looked so scared to speak to him.

“Yeah I’ll see you Friday, Angel,” he assures you.

Your heart twists sadly at the term of endearment.

“And we’ll talk then?” you ask.

“We’ll talk then,” he reiterates.

thank you for reading, and as always-reblogs are greatly appreciated!

join my taglist here or follow me on @waklman-library & turn on notifs there to be notified when i post!

not my gif! if anyone knows the creator please let me know!!

765 notes · View notes

peterparkersnose · 11 months

Text

Three Years

pairing: Javi Pena x reader

word count: 1.7k

warnings: anxiety, reader has a child, angst if you squint, re connection of the two characters, reader has a liking of photography, out of character javi but who cares (i crave this man domestically)

a/n babies! the pedro wave recently has me worried. i dont want them to make him into eddie munson/joe quinn bc i cannot loose pedro (ive been a fan since march ‘22) and i will be heartbroken if it becomes embarrassing to stan this wonderful man. tell me he doesnt look good in that gif god damn. any narcos inaccuracies I apologize I havent watched it since the summer

summary Javi reconnects with his former fling (the ambassador’s daughter) and finds out a secret

masterlist

join the tag list

read time: 6 mins 15 seconds

His palms were sweating. Maybe it was the Texas heat, or maybe for once in his life Javier Peña was actually nervous.

He sat parked on the busy street of San Antonio trying to muster up the courage to knock on your door.

2213 Ace Street, San Antonio, Texas. Y/N.

The crumpled up post it note Steve had hastily written your address down on. It was his final goodbye gift to Javi, handed over to him secretly through a handshake.

Javi figured he pulled it from a classified document. You were the ambassador to Colombia’s daughter anyways, it’s not like your address would just be laying around in the Colombian embassy.

He felt a bit out of place in the expensive neighborhood. Everyone around seemed to glare at him in his tight jeans. Maybe it was all in his head, he wasn’t sure. Anxiety seemed to overshadow his unbeatable confidence that day. He stared at the house numbers trying to figure out which one was yours.

2205, 2208… 2211

2213

Your townhome was nice. Natural brick house, a bit large for just yourself.

After all these years, you have had to move on. Three years with no contact. There was no way you were still single. And the size of this house was just living proof that you had moved on.

Three years. Javi stood with his hands on his hips, glaring down the avenue at the setting sun. When the secret relationship was exposed, it had all been swept under the rug. The facade of close friends the two of you had been putting on was figured out by your father. One of Javi’s biggest regrets was letting you leave and go back to the states. He didn’t want to admit it then, but he knew.

He was in love.

Three years. Javi couldn’t believe it.

He swallowed sharply. Three years, he had to at least see you. Be in your presence one more time, even if it was just to say a proper goodbye. The crumpled up post it returned to his pocket as he made his way up your steps.

The doorbell was an antique painted white; typical for these upscale neighborhoods. He rung it, and prayed you weren’t home.

His stomach dropped when he heard your sweet voice.

“Coming!”

The door whistfully opened. Your hair was tied back and you had an apron on over your outfit. Flour was smeared over the apron along with other various baking ingredients Javi couldn’t name.

Your expression fell from ‘I think my package I ordered is here’ to a face Javi couldn’t even explain. Confusion mixed with such an unannounced wave of hurt.

Silence and stares became the moment as your soft radio in the background ended its song and switched to a commercial.

“Hi,” Is all that he could manage to say. He let out a breathe of air he had felt like he had been holding for years.

“H-hi.” you stuttered, giving him one more glance to make sure this was real.

“What are you doing he-” you began to say, but you were interrupted.

“Mommy!” said your son, trotting in from the kitchen to find the two of you standing there. Your back stiffened as you took in a sharp breath. “The cakes, there big! Too big.” the child exclaimed, waving his hands in the air to tell the story.

“Shit, Grant!” you scolded your son, scooping the boy up in your arms and whisking him back to the kitchen.

“One second, Javier!” you called from the kitchen. His stomach seemed to turn at the use of his name. His full name.

He stood dumbfounded at your door. So you had moved on.

Javi slowly entered your house. Pictures hung on your wall; he recognized one from a date he took you on. He hated hiking, but the beautiful sights were just too good to miss in Colombia. He could see the corner of the picnic blanket in the photo, remembering the nice time together. Pictures of the boy were hung, of course. Baby photos and photos looking like they were taken yesterday of Grant were in various frames around the house.

His heart stopped when he saw the one picture sitting on your fireplace. An easy one to miss, but he spotted it.

You, himself, Steve, and Connie all smiling at the bar you used to frequent. Wouldn’t your spouse be mad about those pictures being on display?

“I see you let yourself in,” you said, entering the room once again. “I can go, I’m sorry but… you still have these?” he asked. Your eyes widened as he mentioned leaving.

“Your welcome to stay, please, have a seat if you’d like.” you offered, taking off your apron and hanging it on a hook. Javi could sense your shock. “Wouldn’t your husband be upset? I mean with our history…”

“No husband.” you said with a tight lipped smile. “Just me and Grant.”

“Your son?” Javier asked, looking down the hallway leading to your kitchen. There he saw the boy peeking out behind the wall. Once they made eye contact, he gasped and retreated the kitchen.

“How did you find me?” you asked, ignoring the question. “I… had help?” he said, trying not to throw Steve under the bus. He took the post it note out of his pocket and handed it to you. “Steve’s handwriting,” you chuckled to yourself. His distinct chicken scratch was hard to not recognize.

“I saw that you finally got that bastard,” you scoffed. “I was so relieved when I saw Escobar was killed on the news. It was strange, though. Seeing you and Steve through a screen.”

“Yeah,” Javi awkwardly laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Would you like to meet him?” you asked, biting the bullet. “Escobar?” Javi asked, furrowing his brow in confusion. “No,” you chuckled, turning around to see your snooping son again.

“C’mere,” you said sweetly, giving into the child’s interest in this stranger.

Grant came running and hit your form so hard you almost fell forwards on your knees. “Careful baby,” you chuckled, caressing his dark brown hair as he hid behind your legs.

“This is Javier,” you introduced your son to the mysterious man.

“From stories?” Grant asked, peeking out behind your legs. “Yes, baby. Like from the stories.”

Javier’s heart seemed to drop. This kid has heard stories about him before? No father around, no husband? Tell me why this kid was starting to look more and more like his mother.

He didn’t want to admit the very possible truth to himself.

“He got the bad guy?” Grant asked, now holding on to your hand. He was still very obviously weary about Javier. “Mhm,” you said, crouching down next to Grant. “Remember the TV a few weeks ago? When they caught the bad guy?” you asked your son. He looked at Javi intensively.

Your eyes met Javi’s and you felt the guilt consume you. You had to do it; even if the pit in your stomach was about to erupt out in vomit. You had to.

“He’s yours.”

“No,” Javi immediately responded. He didn’t mean to give such a negative response, he was just stuck in a haze in this new reality.

He was a father.

“Your kidding?” he asked, a hand coming to his forehead and sliding down his face. “Your the only guy I slept with in Colombia.”

“What’s his name? Full name,” he asked. “Grant Javier Peña.”

Grant looked up to his mother when she said his name. “He turned two in April,”

A silent tear rolled down Javier’s face as a hand moved to his mouth. It was early January. He had about a two and a half year old son. The little boy that had now moved to playing with action figures on the floor in front of him was his; his own flesh and blood. Half of him, half of you.

“And your father?” he anxiously asked, rubbing his hands together. “He wasn’t pleased. Doesn’t visit much anymore anyways,” you scoffed.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he said, trying to keep his tone steady. “I wasn’t allowed. I promise, I begged my father through my whole pregnancy. I tried letters, ways to get to Steve or Connie. Nothing. I had given up hope after his first birthday.”

“And you did this all alone?” he asked you, standing up to embrace you. His hands took yours as you shook your head yes. You bit your lip, trying your best not to cry. You wrapped your arms around his chest and felt his heartbeat. It was beating fast.

“I’m so sorry, mi amor.” he whispered in your ear. “What can I do?”

“Whatever you need to,” you said, breaking the hug. “I know it isn’t easy. It’s a hard decision. I’ve been doing it alone now for almost three years. If you don’t want to be involved, Javi, I completely understand.”

“No, no.” he said. “I… if you’ll have me, I’ll stay.”

“Javi-”

“No questions. My decision, I’m here for you two. Emotionally, financially, whatever you need from me.” “That’s asking too much, just maybe give it some time to think about-”

“I’ve been thinking about you every day for three years, Y/N. I am absolutely sure about my decision.”

“Mama,” Grant asked, turning around to look at the two of you standing above him. “Play?”

Grant approached Javi cautiously, holding a G.I. Joe figurine in his hand. He offered the toy to his father. “Play?” he asked once again. Javier looked to you; you shook your head in approval.

The sight of your son and his father playing together was enough to make you happy for a lifetime.

Javier was cautious. His experience with children was basically non existent. “Who is he?” he asked in his softest voice he could think of. “Joe! This Jack, Jasmine, Kevin, Gumball and…”

Javi listened as his son named off all of his action figures along with some stuffed animals strewn across the room.

You slowly crept to your bedroom where you kept your camera hidden away. Adjusting the settings, you hid behind the couch to get a perfect angle of this moment you never wanted to forget.

Snap!

Both of the boys turned around to see you standing behind the couch. “No picture!” Grant complained, stomping his tiny fist on the ground. A smile spread to Javi’s lips as he saw his son squirm.

“I’m sorry baby. Keep playing.” you said, placing the camera on a desk in the living room.

“Mommy take pictures a lot.” Grant sighed, picking up another action figure and kept on playing.

This was definitely going on your wall.

all posts @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @mandoloriancookie @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @scoliobean @avengersfan25 @nyotamalfoy @milly-louise

463 notes · View notes

tightjeansjavi · 1 year

Text

Welcome to my masterlist of all my Pedro Pascal character writings ♡ kind reminder that my blog is +18. If you are a minor, do NOT interact.

💗🐴✨About me

‼️‼️HOW YOU CAN SUPPORT PALESTINE‼️‼️

🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸

🎀 Joel Miller Masterlist | Post-Outbreak 🎀

💘 Joel Miller Masterlist | Pre-Outbreak💘

💗Javier Peña Masterlist💗

💖Dieter Bravo Masterlist💖

💓 Frankie Morales Masterlist 💓

💞Javi Gutierrez Masterlist💞

Pedro Pascal Character Head Canons

1K notes · View notes

averagewriter-inthedark · 1 year

Text

Before He Cheats | Dagger Squad Imagine

Takes place after the events of TGM

TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: female pilot!reader x Dagger squad (platonic), reader x ex!oc (past romance)

Content Warnings: angst, cheating, profanity, ends with sweet revenge | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 3.8k

Requested 📨 yes/no (rules for requests)

Premise: One thing about cheaters, they’re always gonna get caught. Whether right when it happens or years down the road the truth always comes out. And one thing they should realize is revenge is a dish best served cold.

Note: I finally finished my first year of grad school!!! Fucking finally people. Now I can relax and get to the drawing board. I already have visions and outlines for all current requests in my inbox and be sure to check out my April/May upcoming works and my pinned works in progress for what’s coming and posted! Thank you for your patience and to the anon who requested this I hope you liked it!

Also y’all….is there like some freaky shit going on with the universe and my works 💀 cause three days after I posted Lover inspired by Taylor swift she and her man of 8 years broke up and now I’m posting a cheater imagine (this request is from end of February) when there’s stuff going about Glen 👀 this is just freaky now

—————

Friday night at the Hard Deck consisted of a full house ready to kick off the weekend with beer and music. For a few years now Y/n had been working at the bar serving drinks and singing from 8pm to 9 as a way to make extra cash while her college sweetheart Ryan, who was a Lieutenant Junior Grade, was stationed at Miramar. Having not been married despite being a couple for so long, Y/n lived off base with some roommates while her boyfriend stayed in the dorms, however, he’d come to her place after work and stayed on weekends.

It was rare to see a military couple not be the stereotypically, “we got married right after I commissioned so my partner can be my dependent and travel with me when I get orders.” No, that wasn’t Y/n and Ryan. After Ryan’s commission Y/n stayed to finish up her Master’s at the University of Miami where they met while he was sent to Japan for two years. Then he was stationed in Virginia, followed by Lemoore, and now he was at Miramar. The longest base he’d been at. Y/n had been with him in Virginia, but didn’t move to Lemoore as she had a three-year contract with her job at the University of Virginia.

Toward the end of his two years at Lemoore, Y/n called Y/n to inform her he was being stationed at North Island and the contract was to be at least five years. Wanting to be close to him after being apart for so long and filled with hope they’d finally settle after Ryan hits ten years in the Navy, Y/n transferred to the University of California San Diego as the history of music professor. She also took on a part-time job as a bartender Friday and Saturday since she was only teaching two sections that occurred on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Plus Penny allowed her to sing Friday nights as an added bonus knowing she loved music.

Y/n settled rather quickly in North Island. With her two jobs she developed a friendly social circle consisting of the UCSD staff on campus and regulars at the Hard Deck. Several of the aviators took a liking to her. They knew Ryan and would often meet up every Friday after work to catch up on the week and watch her sing. Y/n always had their rounds ready the moment they walked in, “got ya seven cold ones.”

“Already?”

“The newbie over there didn’t read the sign. Round’s on him.”

They’d cheer Y/n on when she sang, literally the loudest bunch in the whole bar. “Sing it girl!”

“Ariana ain’t got nothing on you!

Phoenix sometimes sat at the bar when she needed to get away from the guys. “Are you working tomorrow?”

“Penny gave me the night off since I got papers to grade…but If I get done early I’ll be free.”

“Please, I am in need of a girls night. Hell I’ll even come help you grade if you tell me what to do.”

“Damn, Nat, were the guys too much this week?” She placed another beer in front of the pilot, removing the empty one to discard. “This one’s on me. You look like you need it.”

“You have no idea, Y/n. All week we’ve been training for an upcoming mission and they’ve been driving me nuts.”

Ryan had his own group of friends from the base who’d come toward the later hours of the night. They’d usually take up the space at the bar, Ryan greeting Y/n with a kiss and telling her how the day was. He’d nurse a couple beers before he and Y/n would retreat to her apartment when the place closed at eleven.

They’d been together for several years, coming up on their eighth anniversary when Y/n discovered his infidelity.

And it wasn’t just a one-and-done “I was drunk and stupid, she doesn’t mean anything,” type of deal. No, this was a long going affair lasting almost a year.

What was the kicker? The other woman was a married coworker of his.

Now Y/n may have had the reputation of being the sweet, down to earth, understanding person who would never hurt a fly. But as soon as her eyes landed on Ryan, her partner of eight years, shoving his throat down another woman’s throat while grabbing her ass like it would vanish from thin air…..she saw red. Kill Bill sirens blasting in her mind. Y/n wanted to ruin both of them seeing she wasn’t the only person betrayed. The woman’s husband was also being deceived.

And what was punishment for adultery and extramarital sexual conduct? Well, according to the Uniform Code of Military Justice those in the military who are married or have affairs with married personnel are dishonorably discharged, forfeited of all pay and confined for one whole year.

Was it harsh? Maybe some would see it that way. But cheaters need to be taught a lesson.

And Y/n was gonna make sure they got it.

For a whole week Y/n put on a brave face. Accumulating photographs and screenshots of text messages, emails, and bank statements to show proof of the affair and how long it had been going on. She secretly got in touch with the husband of the Lieutenant Ryan was sleeping with, presenting him with everything. Heartbroken and angry, he agreed to remain quiet until the meeting Y/n had set up on that following Friday with their partner's supervisor.

“I know this is a lot to ask,” she exhaled, tired from everything and having to act like she was fine. “But come Friday they’ll be faced with the consequences of their actions. I’m sorry you’re having to go through this as well.”

“It’s not your fault—you’re not the one who cheated on me. You’re the one who found out and had the decency to tell me. We both got screwed,” he rubbed his face with his hands, wedding ring flashing under the light. When it caught his eyes all he could do was glare at it. “The only thing making this somewhat bearable is the fact they’re gonna be hit with the ultimate blindside.”

Y/n nodded to his ring, “What are you gonna do?”

“I’m contacting a divorce lawyer once I leave here. Hopefully the papers will be drawn up quickly so I can bring them to the meeting. Make it a double whammy. You?”

Y/n threw back the rest of her gin & tonic, letting out another tired sign, “I booked a flight to Cabo. Spring break is next week so I’m gonna take a well needed week long vacation and then figure it out from there.” Sunny skies with margaritas and radio silence seemed to be the best therapy at the moment.

For the next three days Y/n maintained a strong façade. Whenever Ryan went to kiss her she’d kept it short or moved to where his lips hit her cheek. She continued to send screenshots to her phone and delete the conversations so he wouldn’t notice. When she surprised him at work for lunch the day before the meeting it really threw both the cheaters off.

“Y/n,” his eyes went wide, “what are you doing here?”

“Thought I’d surprise you for lunch,” she held up a bag of homemade stir fry, bidding a glance at the woman who also was white a sheet. “Hi, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Y/n.”

“Becca.”

“Becca,” she repeated, a smile tight on her lips. While doing so she gave an obvious glance to Becca’s ring finger, finding the diamond. “Beautiful ring you’ve got there. Are you engaged?” Becca became flustered, but kept calm.

“Married.”

“Ah, your husband has a great eye for jewelry. You’re so lucky.”

Ryan was quick to cut the conversation short after the mention of Becca’s husband. Visibly uncomfortable with how Y/n was throwing their aldurty in their face despite not knowing she was aware of it.

The next day Y/n marched into their superiors office, dressed like a corporate CEO ready to fire the entire team for an unforgivable mistake, with two boxes on each arm. One filled with all the evidence of Ryan and Becca’s affair, the other containing all of Ryan’s belongings he had at Y/n’s apartment. Becca’s husband, Tim arrived a minute later with a folder of divorce papers in his hands.

They met with the supervisor first. Y/n introduced who she was and who Tim was, presenting the box of evidence and explained while the Captain shuffled through the papers. Visibly disgusted, the Captain thanked Y/n for bringing it to his attention and promised the adults he would handle the rest.

“Are you calling them in right now?” She asked.

“I was planning to this afternoon, why?”

“I’d like to be present if you don’t mind,” a hand came up to the other box she had, “These are his things and frankly, I want to see the look on his face.”

“Me too,” Tim piped up and waved the folder in his hands. “These need to be served to Becca.”

The supervisor simply shrugged and said, “if that’s what you want, fine by me.” He hit a button on his phone, “Wilkins, please inform Lieutenants Stevens and Leeds they need to report to my office immediately.”

“Yes, sir.” Though her heart was racing, Y/n remained poised and took a seat against the wall of the room. Tim sat beside her, both setting their gaze on the door to await their soon to be exes.

Roughly ten minutes later, a knock on the door sounded and the Captain gruffly said, “enter.” The door opened to reveal Ryan, whose eyes went straight to his superior before scanning the room ultimately resulting in him to freeze where he stood. Turning white as a sheet, Y/n could only imagine what was running through her ex boyfriend’s mind. There was great satisfaction seeing his eyes flicker from her to Tim to the Captain.

“Have a seat, Lieutenant,” the older gentleman's finger pointed to the seat in front of his desk. It seemed to snap Ryan from his daydream, the man stumbling into the room and unable to form words.

When he sat the first thing he tried to say was her name to which the Captain voiced, “I didn’t say you could speak, Lieutenant. Keep quiet, we’re waiting on one more before we get started.”

Becca’s reaction was pretty much the same when she arrived two minutes later. “T-tim,” she stuttered, red as a tomato and fear etched on her face.

“Rebecca,” his tone was blank, matching his expression. Just the full name combined with the parties in the room indicated to Becca she was about to have the worst day of her life.

But hey, maybe she shouldn’t have cheated then.

And Ryan? Mans was shitting bricks where he sat. Couldn’t even bring himself to look at Becca when she sat in the chair beside him. He kept trying to plead to Y/n with his eyes but she wasn’t having it.

The Captain got right to it. He laid out all the evidence on the desk for the two to see, Becca immediately breaking into tears while Ryan tried to explain. What could he explain though? How could he defend a year long affair with a married coworker in front of her husband, longtime girlfriend and superior.

When it came time for the Captain to discuss where to go from there, Y/n excused herself by dropping the box of Ryan’s things into his lap, “Here’s all your shit,” it nearly spilled onto the floor when the action surprised him. “Don’t call, text, show up at my place or at the bar tonight otherwise I’ll call the cops. I’m done with you, Ryan. Thanks for wasting eight fucking years of my life.”

“Wait, Y/n, please—,” she cut him off when he went to stand.

“You’ve not been dismissed yet,” that got him to freeze, noticing the Captain smirking in the corner of her eye. She turned to Tim, “Thanks for your help. Good luck with everything and I hope it works in your favor.” Becca gasped, realizing what the folder in Tim’s hand represented. It spurred on another wave of tears.

“Thanks,” he gave a tired smile, “And good luck to you.” With that Y/n was out the door and Ryan was out of her life. First thing she did was go home, change, and drive to the Hard Deck. Penny immediately poured a glass for her, “long day?” Y/n accepted the beer with a nod.

“Glad it's almost over.”

“What happened?”

Y/n felt the tears welling in her eyes. The emotions she had been holding the past two weeks had finally broken free. Concern formed on Penny’s face. “Ryan was cheating on me for the past year.”

“No,” the woman gasped. Never had she thought Ryan, who always came to the bar to keep Y/n company and watch her sing and her partner of almost a decade would betray her like that. “Did you just find out today?”

“Last Monday. I went to bring him his dry cleaning he left at my place and found him making out with his married coworker.” Another gasp left Penny. “I’ve been playing actor the past two weeks to make him think everything was okay while I gathered proof. Told the woman’s husband a couple days ago and we both met with their superior today. Gave him his stuff while I was at it.”

“I’m so sorry honey,” Penny reached over to pat her hand, “he’s an asshole and you’re worth so much more than him.” Y/n softly smiled at that, mumbling a thanks. Penny served her another glass, “Take the night off okay, I can call Elise to take your shift.”

If Y/n was being honest the offer sounded like a dream. She wanted to go home and cry herself into a bucket of ice cream while watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine until she passed out. But part of her also wanted to sing her pent up feelings out. “Thanks, Penny. I’d still like to sing though if you don’t mind. I could use the release.”

“Of course,” Penny waved a hand, “Whenever you feel like it I’ll have Jose set up the mic. Your guitar’s in the back where I keep the stock.”

For the next couple hours Y/n caught up on grading some papers at a booth while she waited for 8 to roll around. By 6 most of their regulars from the base arrived, signaling the end of the work day. Nat was the first to spot Y/n, strolling over and immediately noticed by the professor's body language that something was off.

“What happened?” She sat across from her.

“What makes you think something happened?”

Nat gave a look, “first, you’re not working the bar.” Y/n shrugged, trying to be nonchalant.

“Penny gave me the night off. I’m still singing though so I thought I’d hang out for the time being—catch up grading before spring break next week.”

“The tone in your voice is off.”

Y/n scoffed even though the pilot was right, “It’s not off.”

“What’s not off?” Rooster comes up, pushing Nat aside so he could slide into the booth.

“Y/n’s acting off and won’t say why.”

“I’ve been grading papers for the last two hours,” Y/n rolled her eyes, “sixty to be exact and all are six pages each. If I sound off it’s probably because I’m tired.” Again, Nat doesn’t appear convinced.

“But you’re still gonna sing even though you probably would rather be home sleeping the day away?”

“Friday nights are what I look forward to during the week,” Y/n scribbled a grade at the top of the paper in front of her, placing it on the stack, “I get to see you guys and sing whatever I want. I wouldn’t miss this.”

“Is Ryan coming?” It was an innocent question and one to expect from her friends given they had no idea of the events that’d taken place. However it didn’t stop the sharp intake of breath Y/n did.

“No, he’s not,” she quickly added before they could ask why, “he got held up at work. His supervisor needed to discuss some things with him.”

“Uh oh,” Rooster made a face, unaware of the boiling anger surfacing in Y/n. “That can’t be good.”

“Yeah,” Y/n clicked her pen, finishing up the last paper. Nat decided not to press further on what was bothering her friend. If Y/n wanted to say then that was up to her.

So to brighten her mood Nat bought her a round and challenged Y/n to a game of pool. Y/n packed up her things, placed them behind the bar and then greeted the other daggers.

“There’s our favorite singer,” Jake announced with a smile. “We were wondering where you were.” Y/n took the cue Rooster handed her.

“Just trying to get through the semester, Hangman.”

The two women played best out of three with Y/n winning the first and final game. By the time they finished it was pushing 7:50 so Y/n informed Penny she was getting her guitar. Once retrieving the instrument she returned to the floor to see Jose had set up the mic and stool for her.

Grabbing a glass of water, Y/n took the stage and set the glass beside the stool before clearing her throat, “Hey everyone.” There were a few hoots and whistles from her friends and regulars at the bar. “How’s your night going? Good?” There were some ‘yeahs’ from the crowd, people moving to get drinks and settle close to the stage. “That’s great to hear. Just sit back, relax, and feel the music.”

Y/n played several songs, all acoustic, starting with Taylor Swift’s ‘Getaway Car’ followed by ‘Back to Black’ by Amy Winehouse. She changed the tune by playing Bill Withers ‘Ain’t No Sunshine,’ but changed ‘she’ to ‘he’ that not many caught. She played ‘Norman Fucking Rockwell,’ by Lana Del Rey and ‘Somebody That I Used To Know,’ from Gotye.

Coming up to the final five minutes of the hour, Y/n gulped the remaining bit of her water and put on a brave face. “This last song,” she paused to close her eyes, “fits the theme you’ve been hearing all night, but is a little more close to the heart. It’s dedicated to someone who’s not present in the crowd which really is a good thing because he knew what was best for him,” very quickly Y/n saw the confusion appear on her friends, some whispering to each other to ask if they knew what she was talking about. “If you can relate to this song because you’ve been on the receiving end of betrayal then my heart goes out to you for I feel your pain. If you can relate because you’ve been that one to betray someone, well, I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

Letting her fingers drum against the strings, the beginning chords of ‘Before He Cheats’ by Carrie Underwood echoed through the bar.

“Right now, he’s probably slow dancin’,” her voice carried into the mic, raw with emotion. “With a bleached-blond tramp and she’s probably gettin’ frisky. Right now, he’s probably buyin’ her some fruity little drink. ‘Cause she can’t shoot whisky.”

Out in the crowd Nat cursed under her breath, anger rising at the realization, “That sly bastard.”

“What?” Mickey whispered, the guys leaning in.

“Right now, he’s probably up behind her with a pool stick. Showin’ her how to shoot a como. And he doesn’t know….”

“Don’t you see?” She gestured with a hand to Y/n, “Ryan cheated on her! That’s why he’s not here. That’s why his supervisor needed to see him. It’s why she’s dedicated this song, a song about a cheater, to him!”

All the sirens ring in their heads as Y/n belts the chorus.

“I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped-up four-wheel drive. Carved my name into his leather seats. I took a Louisville slugger to both headlights, I slashed a hole in all four tires. Maybe next time he’ll think before he cheats.”

“Oh,” the word left Jake’s lips, fury in his green eyes. Y/n was his friend, and nobody hurts his friends. “Oh he’s gonna regret that.”

“You guys thinking what I’m thinking?” Rooster crossed his arms over his chest. All of them shared a look. Nat took one look at Y/n and saw how she was holding back tears.

Kill Bill sirens flooded her brain.

“Yeah, I think we are.”

Come Monday Ryan was emptying out his desk while he awaited his discharge hearing, dark circles under his eyes and in dire need of sleep. As he carried the box out to his car, it fell from his hands with horror coating his face.

Parked in the same spot his beloved red Mustang Charger was not the way he left it. The windows were shattered, tires slashed, the leather of his seats torn. His license plates were missing and the word cheater spray painted in white along the sides.

Hiding behind the building, the guys were biting back their laughter at his reaction. Bob holding the spray paint can, Mickey with the Louisville slugger and Bradley and Jake with pocket knives. Reuben had the plates behind his back and Javy kept checking the phone where he had hacked into the building's security cameras to make sure they were disconnected.

Right on time, Nat came running around the corner in her PT gear, slowing her run when she approached a visibly distraught and furious Ryan. Removing her headphones the pilot whistled, “Damn. That’s gonna be a field day to fix.”

Ryan snapped his head to her, “Do you know who did this?” His tone was accusatory and Nat couldn’t blame him. He knew she was friends with Y/n and frequented the bar every week. He wouldn’t put it past Nat being involved. “Was it you and her? Huh? Y/n had to get one last final laugh—as if she hasn’t done enough!” Nat only scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“I wouldn’t throw accusations so loosely, Ryan. I’ve had PT all morning and Y/n left for Cabo yesterday.” There was no lie in her statement. Y/n was currently sitting at the poolside of her resort with a margarita in her hand. She’d posted on her instagram stories and let Nat know when she landed. Plus the pilot did have PT and was finishing up her run before heading to the flight line.

But she was the mastermind while the boys did the dirty work.

The truth only angered Ryan more, his face turning even more red. “Then who did this?!”

“How should I know?” Nat smirked, putting her headphones in as she started to move past him. “But maybe next time you’ll think before you cheat.”

………..

TGM tag list: @avaleineandafryingpan @caitsymichelle13 @poppyalice2001 @cutelittlepotatofry @luckyladycreator2 @americaarse @elenavampire21 @back-tooo-black @wildellaa @artemissunn @pinkpantheris

#Spotify #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick angst #TGM imagine #tgm fanfiction #dagger squad imagine #dagger squad x reader #dagger squad x platonic!reader #TGM x reader #tgm txt #jake seresin x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #natasha trace x reader #mickey Garcia x reader #bob floyd x reader #javy machado x reader #reuben fitch x reader

472 notes · View notes

honey-on-your-tongue · 4 days

Text

Too Sweet

He should. He should, he should, he should. Javier should stay away from you. But oh, you sweet thing. How could he ever resist?

You arrive to the U.S. Embassy in Colombia with the sole assignment of aiding the DEA agents in their investigations with the Medellín Cartel. At 23, everyone sees you as too young, too naïve, too inexperienced. But Javier...Javier sees something in you, something that he can't stay away from. He eagerly takes you into the team with an excuse to find out exactly what it is about you that calls to him. The more time he spends with you, the more time he realizes he should stay away. How could he even think of hurting, of corrupting, of staining this pretty little thing? But, oh, how can he not?

Series masterlist

A new wip babes!!! I'm so excited to write this one! 🤭🤭🤭

#javier pena angst #javier pena x y/n #javier pena fic #javier pena x you #javier pena x reader #javier peña #javi peña #javier peña smut #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #javier pena smut #javier pena fluff

71 notes · View notes

joelslastofus · 1 year

Text

[SUMMARY: You’re a DEA agent who gets hurt and tries to hide it from Javi, only making him more protective of you.]

“Next time she’s with you and she gets hurt, you fucking call me. I don’t care what she tells you.”

Angst/Fluff

Today you teamed up with Murphy to visit a bar and interview a few workers there who were a witness to a shooting. Javier of course wasnt fond of the idea that you were assigned to this, but it was your job. The two of you were seeing each other for a few months now and it was safe to say he grew protective of you as time went on.

Arriving to the bar you immediately grew suspicious of the workers around you. Murphy could see it too yet before either of you could make a move, gun fire went off. The two of you hiding behind the bar you pulled out your guns and fought back.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me” Murphy groaned before standing up and firing a few shots and hiding once more.

“When I count to three, we’re gonna go out that back door,” he whispered to you as you had your gun ready, finger on the trigger.

“1….2….3” the two of you ran as gun shots rung out around you.

“Shit!” You screamed attempting to fire back when a man appeared and shot your way, hitting your waist. Murphy shot the man in the head as you fell back and winced holding onto your side.

“Oh fuck-“ you panted looking down, but quickly realized the bullet never went in.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, it only grazed me.” You spoke in relief through the pain you felt before noticing Murphys expression.

“Don’t you dare tell Javi!” Your words making him look up at you.

“I’ll get banadaged up and he won’t suspect a thing. Promise me!” You spoke sternly. Murphy sighed and nodded his head before helping you up and getting out of there.

Later that night you sat at the office desk across from Murphy as Javi rushed inside towards you.

“I heard about the shoot out, why didn’t you call me?” Javi sat on the edge of your desk with his arms crossed staring down at you.

“There was nothing to call for, the men got away and we were fine. Right Murphy?” You looked over at Murphy as Javi didn’t take his eyes off you. You could see the concern he had but you kept a straight face.

“Mhm,” Murphy responded as he filled out paper work.

“I don’t like you going to these places, Pablo’s people are always around there.”

“And what do you think I can’t handle these men, Javi?” You raised a brow with a smirk as you stood up ignoring the pain on your side.

“I’m being serious.” He furrowed his brows, the tone in his voice making you sigh.

“Javi-“ just as you went to speak he unexpectedly put his hands on your waist pulling you into him. The piercing pain of your wound causing you to scream and quickly back away.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” He rushed to you as you winced holding your side.

“Jesus Christ you’re fucking bleeding-“

“Javi, I’m fine.” You insisted with a whisper.

“You’re not fine- get me a damn doctor!” He yelled at Murphy who quickly ran to get someone. Javier helped you to the back to an empty room at the station and sat you down. He placed his hand over yours covering your wound just as a medic walked in.

“Im fine I just-“

“She was grazed by a bullet earlier today.” Murphy cut in without looking your way.

“What?” Javier looked down at you with his hands on his hips.

“So you were shot at.” Javier flared his nostrils and turned away. Worry turned into anger at the thought of anyone even attempting to hurt you.

“Javi- ow!” You gasped making Javier quickly turn back to you as the doctor pressed down on your wound.

“What are you doing?” You asked in pain.

“You’re hurting her,” the urgency in Javis voice making the doctor ease up.

“Your stitches opened up, I’ll have to clean it up and stitch you up again.” The doctor explained. You sighed laying your head back looking at the ceiling. Javier was pissed, worried and on edge, he paced back and fourth in the room as the doctor took care of you. Any sound of a whimper he’d immediately stop and look at you hating that he couldn’t do more for you, hating that he couldn’t take away the pain.

“Peña why don’t you go have a smoke and relax-“

“Next time she’s with you and she gets hurt, you fucking call me. I don’t care what she tells you.” Javier stopped and whispered in Murphys face who only knodded in response.

“Are you almost done?” You winced looking down as the doctor stitched you up. Javier quickly rushed to your side and cursed at himself.

“Now I’m done,” the doctor finally finsihed and placed a bandage over the wound. You both thanked him as he walked out with Murphy leaving you and Javier alone.

Javi had his back to you as he took a deep breath.

“Javi-“

“Don’t ever pull something like this again,” he spoke sternly.

“Javi, please I didn’t want to worry you.” He turned to you with a much softer look in his eyes than you expected.

“I always worry about you.” He stepped closer to you as you slowly stood up. Standing before you he looked down into your eyes, his hands gently taking hold of your face as he leaned in and planted his lips on yours.

“And what about you?” You whispered.

“What about me?”

“I need you to be careful too.”

“Nothings going to happen to me mi amor.” He caressed his thumb across your cheek as you leaned your face against his hand. Closing your eyes you sighed, you couldn’t see but he looked at you in a way no man had ever looked at you before, your safety was all that mattered to him.

#pedro pascal #javier pena imagine #javier pena x reader #javier peña x you #javi peña #narcos fanfiction #narcos javier #javier pena angst #javier pena fic #javier pena fanfiction

920 notes · View notes

whatsnewalycat · 1 year

Text

Burn It Down - One Shot

Javier Peña x Reader - Explicit (18+ only)

Summary: Before that moment, he was so careful not to tip his hand. Always trying to make you think he’s content to take the scraps of love you give him and feast upon them. Because wanting more with you means more than just having you. It means mess. It means burning your lives down to the ground. It’s the unspoken truth of your relationship.

Word Count: 4k+

Warnings: Javier's POV, Angst, Established Secret Relationship, Infidelity, Drunk Driving (DON'T DO THAT!), Leg Grinding, Dirty Talk, Orgasm, Possessive Javier, Angst With A Happy Ending

A/N: Story inspiration from "The Ideal Husband" by Father John Misty. This was originally a scene I had in mind when I started writing Just Dumb Enough to Try (can you tell I was listening to a lot of FJM??), but it didn't work with those characters or their relationship.

I revisited it and fleshed it out and changed some stuff, and, voilà!

[ Masterlist ] [ Taglist ] [ AO3 ]

He should leave.

Just turn the car around and go back home.

But the pragmatic part of his brain is riding in the backseat. Whiskey has the wheel now.

The digital clock on the dash reads 7:00 AM. He shakes his head in disbelief when he realizes it's been just 24 hours since he woke up in your bed and everything was fine.

What he wouldn't give to go back in time and be there again. Heat of your body clinging to him. Buried under your white bedsheet. Watching your fingertips dance across his torso.

Sometimes he closes his eyes and tries to trace the path your touch takes. Other times he watches inquisitively. Always trying to decode the invisible messages you draw onto his skin in these quiet moments. When he asks you what you're writing, the answer is always the same.

"It's a secret," you teased, amusement at his curiosity drawing your gaze to his. Humor crinkled the delicate skin at the corners of your eyes.

You and your goddamn secrets.

If he could go back in time to 7:00 AM yesterday, this could have all been avoided. He'd tell himself to get the fuck out as soon as you suggested breakfast. Before he could have a chance to wander around your kitchen and study the artifacts of your life with the man who lives there. He wouldn't have seen the calendar on the wall.

"I have to go. Shit to do on the ranch," he could have lied. He could have gotten dressed and gone home.

He wouldn’t have spent the whole day drinking himself into a stupor, trying to get rid of your voice in his head. Trying to make your bright smile, your infectious laugh, disappear from his memory. Trying to erase the penciled-in note on your calendar.

This all could have all been avoided.

Despite all the things that could have been, though, he's here. Turning down your street. Coming to a stop and shifting the gear into park. Watching the closed curtains for any sign of movement.

He pries open the center console and pulls out a shiny aluminum flask, then slouches down in the driver's seat and starts to empty its contents into his belly, one pull at a time. Taking a drink every time the deep ache of yearning tightens around his heart.

No, see, despite all the things that could have been, you're in this house and he's out here. You're in there, probably still tucked into the bed and sleeping soundly, and you can never unhear the things he said to you.

Yesterday will never happen again. No do-overs in this life, unfortunately, regardless of how many times Javi has wished there would be. Yesterday will always be the day you were greasing a frying pan, and he snuck up behind you, circling his arms around your waist, pressing a kiss into the crook of your neck. You reached back and blindly ran your fingers through his hair as you melted against him.

He mumbled against your skin, "Wish we could do this every day."

Now that he thinks about it, maybe those words were the catalyst, not the calendar. His admission of wanting anything more. Before that moment, he was so careful not to tip his hand. Always trying to make you think he’s content to take the scraps of love you give him and feast upon them.

Because wanting more with you means more than just having you. It means mess. It means burning your lives down to the ground. It’s the unspoken truth of your relationship.

The way your body reacted to his confession told him that you know this, too.

It was subtle, the way you tensed ever-so-slightly, pulse jumping against his lips. It was so slight, he thought he might have imagined it. But now, looking back, he has decided it was another one of your secrets. Always trying to hide pieces of yourself away, as if you want it to be impossible for any single person to see all of you at one time.

It's been occurring to him, more and more lately, that he desperately wants to be the person you'll hand all your broken pieces to. He wants to splay you out on his dining room table like a 1000-piece puzzle that's halfway completed.

Fuck, more than anything on this Earth, he wants to hover above you, studying each intricate, jigsawed fraction of you until he's memorized them all. Then maybe, you can both figure out how it all fits together. Then maybe, he can see all of you at one time.

Then maybe, he can trust you with his own broken pieces.

"I do, too, Javi," you whispered.

Your voice wasn't hopeful. Instead, it was thick with sorrow that settled heavy in his chest like pneumonia. His hands fell away from your sides and he stepped back, giving you space to cook. You started to crack eggs into a stainless steel bowl while he casually studied the kitchen. The metallic ting-crack of eggshells giving way to the lip of the bowl was background music to his exploration.

When he closes his eyes and recounts these events, that ting-crack echoes loudly.

He examined the shelf of cookbooks, wondering if any of them were hand-me-downs from your mom or grandma. As he continued to stroll, he saw trinkets and contemplated their significance, too. Filed them away as potential pieces of the puzzle. Always looking for clues.

And then he found one.

His eyes fell on a bird calendar hanging from the wall next to your corded home phone. November 1998 was represented by the kingfisher. Its teal and rust feathers contrast and compliment each other in a striking way that he found himself admiring. Then he noticed a penciled-in note for this coming Tuesday, handwriting unmistakably yours: Wedding Cake Testing 6:00.

You were whisking the eggs together, head down, and didn't see his face when he shattered. It was obvious to him at that moment that the two of you were just playing house for the weekend. He was just filling in as Daddy while your fiancé was away on a business trip. The unspoken truth, glaring right in the eyes.

And it ruined him.

Of all the complicated emotions fighting over control of his brain, rage was the victor. The edges of his vision tinged red and hot. He clenched his teeth together and leaned back against the countertop, watching you with indignation as you cluelessly went about making breakfast.

"Do you really or are you just saying that so I'll keep fucking you?" he heard the rage say.

You were about to pour the eggs into the pan, but lowered the bowl and turned around to face him, chuckling with confusion, "Wh- what?"

He knows now that there was no way for you to see this coming. You couldn't have foreseen the blinding rage that overrode him. But your confusion fueled the flame anyway.

All he could think is: It's all a goddamn act. An illusion. You and your fucking secrets. This other life you lead when he’s not there.

It burned hot in his veins.

He didn’t take the evidence into account. The way you look at him like he's the only person who exists. The few broken pieces you allow him to see. Your claims to misery, a whispered confession the night before: "I feel trapped when I'm with him, and when I'm with you I'm free."

Because there you were, standing in a kitchen that your fiancé owns, scrambling eggs that your fiancé bought, drowning in your fiancé's t-shirt, wearing that fucking diamond ring on your left hand, and Javier was certain you had no intention of leaving.

You opened your mouth, but just blinked frantically, rendered silent by this part of him you had never seen before.

He pushed off the countertop and started pacing, pinching the bridge of his nose, “You agreed that you wish we could do this every day,” losing control of himself, he crowded you against the kitchen counter, pressing his nose into your cheek, craning your head to the side, “If that’s true, why haven’t you left him? Hmm? Why him and not me, cariño?”

You gave no response. Just short, panicked puffs of air against his cheek.

"What does he have that I don’t? Is it because you don’t want to be seen with someone like me?”

“Someone like you? I- I don’t-”

“Don't play dumb, you know what I mean," he sneered, palms pressing down on either side of your waist, cornering you there like his prey, "What is it, baby? What does he have that I don't? Hmm?"

His lips brushed against your ear, his breath hot against your skin. A soft gasp expanded your lungs when he husked, “Does he pay attention to you like I do?"

"No," you whimpered and shook your head.

He shifted his hips and wedged a knee between your legs, "Does he touch you like I do?"

When you shook your head this time, his teeth caught your earlobe and a little moan escaped your throat. The warmth of your sex found his thigh and you arched into the contact. He pulled back enough to meet your eyes, all confusion and blown-out pupils as you looked up at him through your eyelashes.

"Does he fuck you like I do? Hmm, baby?" his heart was thudding loud in his chest, searching your eyes for the truth.

You bit down on your bottom lip and held back a moan, shaking your head as you began rubbing yourself against his leg.

“I didn’t fucking think so," he growled, grabbed your face and captured your lips in his. The kiss was possessive and heated.

Simultaneously, he wanted to destroy you and make you whole. He wanted his touch to haunt your body long after you married this fucking prick. He wanted to spoil your appetite for other men so completely that the thought of anyone else touching you would bring on bouts of nausea.

He wanted to fucking ruin you.

Breaking the kiss, he placed his hands on your rolling hips and pressed you down harder. Your head fell back and you moaned wantonly at the friction. When your gaze snapped back to his, your face was flushed, soft moans falling from your lips as you humped his leg.

You weren't wearing any underwear and he could feel the heat of your cunt through the thick denim of his jeans. When he looked down at the place your bodies met, the dampened fabric as proved that you fucking loved this.

"I wish he'd walk in and see you just like this," he growled, digging his fingers into your hips, making you gasp.

You grabbed onto the sides of his shirt and used him as leverage, gaining more momentum.

"See you rubbing that sweet pussy all over my leg," he purred, meeting your hot gaze with his own as he uttered the words, "See that you're mine."

Your mouth gaped open and you started to whimper frantically. Grinding down against his thigh. He could tell you were close. Your eyelids started to flutter.

"You sit here and placate me, tell me that you want this, and then what? You continue to plan your sham fucking wedding while you fuck me on the side?" he asked through gritted teeth.

You whimpered and shook your head frantically in denial, "No, baby, that's not true."

"Such a fucking liar, cariño."

His lips formed an O and he spurred your pace, rocking you back and forth so fast you started taking big, deep, swallows of air and released a choked sob.

"That's ok, baby, you can use me. Use me to make yourself feel fucking good," he growled, pressing his forehead to yours, rocking you faster now, fueled by the moans slurring together from your throat, "Come on baby, I want you to cum all over my fucking leg. Show me how much you like being my little slut."

"Oh my god-" you gasped, "Yes yes yes, I like it."

"Like being a little fucking slut, baby, hmm?"

You nodded, whimpering and gasping, rubbing your cunt all over his drenched, hot leg, reaching a fever pitch. And then your face twisted up with pleasure and you shuddered, "H-holy fuck-” legs tightening around his as you twitched against him.

His lips curled into a smile at your sexual satisfaction. He kissed your sweaty forehead, your cheek, your lips through panting breaths. You hummed and closed your eyes, releasing his shirt to link your hands behind his head.

He wasn't done with you yet, though.

The inflamed, red part of him was still throbbing. So fucking sure that he had you figured out. So convinced he didn't need to see all the broken pieces to know that you were just toying with him.

“I can't keep playing boyfriend with you, hoping that one day you'll actually pull the trigger and leave him."

Your chest still heaving, you pulled back and narrowed your eyes in confusion. He stepped away and returned your stare with a piercing gaze. You averted your eyes and closed in on yourself, arms folding in front of your chest. He mistook it as a sign that he was on the right track.

“Why, cariño? Why are you so fucking content to stay? So you can be miserable? But hey, at least it’s comfortable. Isn't that right? Hmm?"

When you turned to look up at him, meeting his gaze with disbelief and fury, he should have known that you were setting your phasers to kill.

"Is that what you think, Javier?" you bit off, glaring as you searched his face, “That I want this? Do you think this is fucking fun for me?"

It was his turn to be rendered silent and unmoving. He watched you carefully.

"What the fuck am I supposed to do? I have fucking nothing ,” the last word was spoken through gritted teeth. The rage overrode you, too.

The unspoken truth spoken. It was too much for either of you to handle.

He cut you off with a lie, “That’s not true.”

“Well, what, are you gonna save me? Let me live with you? You won’t even let me come over when your dad is home,” you scoffed, then stared off into the distance and awaited a reply he couldn't give you.

The weight of the truth started to settle on your shoulders. He could see them slump. Your face crumpled, folding under the pressure of sorrow that welled up in the corners of your eyes, “Can’t you see that I’m in love with you, Javi? Of course I want you.”

Desperately, you searched his face for a reaction. He couldn’t process this information. So sure that he had you pegged as something much more insidious, so committed to his rage, the question gave him emotional whiplash.

You could see it then. The panic building in his chest, creeping into the features of his face, widening his eyes. He opened his mouth to form words but nothing came out. He just shook his head. Your confession met with complete and utter terror.

Your nostrils flared.

“Get out,” you spat, jabbing a finger against his chest, “Fucking hypocrite.”

It’s been bubbling between the layers of his skin since. Your confession. Your anger. Your pain.

Fucking hypocrite.

You were right. He did as you asked. He left.

Went home and hit the bottle. Thought long and hard about everything. The broken pieces he can see spread out before him. Waking up next to you. Your secret notes on his skin. How your body tensed up when he tipped his hand. The calendar. Your penciled in note. The rage it evoked. His accusations. Your confession of love.

Can’t you see that I’m in love with you?

Now he can. He put it all together. And now he can see it. Even clearer yet, he can see… that he’s in love with you, too.

He drops the flask back in the center console and slams it shut. Gets out of the vehicle and lets his heavy feet carry him to your front door, where he rings the doorbell. Pounds his fist against the door.

It swings open, and you’re wrapped up in a plush black robe, hair mussed from tossing and turning in your sleep, squinting puffy eyes at the intrusion. When you register that it’s Javier standing there, swaying unsteadily on your doorstep, you sigh and cross your arms, “What do you want?”

“I needta talk to you,” he slurs, leaning against the doorframe for support.

Your eyes blink open wider and you study him, then ask, “Are you fucking drunk?”

He neither confirms nor denies, just shrugs. Which is like a confirmation but at least he doesn’t have to say it out loud.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Javier, get in here,” you groan and turn around into the house. He follows and closes the door behind him, then tries to bend over to take his shoes off, but stumbles forward.

“Come on,” you pull him upright and wrap an arm around his back, guiding him towards the bedroom, “You need to sleep.”

“Nnnno- Gotta tell you-” he mumbles, but lets you continue to guide him down the hallway, into your bedroom, where he plops down onto the bed that’s still warm from your body heat.

You untie his shoes and yank them off. They thud on the hardwood floor, one at a time. He hums once they’re off and tries to sit up to look at you, but you press your fingers against his chest and guide him back against the bed, “He’s not gonna be back 'til tomorrow, you can sleep it off here.”

His eyes close and he feels the room start to spin and fade as you take his pants off, then start unbuttoning his shirt. While you methodically strip him down into comfort so he can sleep, he tries time and time again to touch you, to pull you into an embrace, to make it like it was at this time yesterday. But you swat him away, muttering to yourself in annoyance. Or maybe you’re asking him questions. He’s not sure anymore.

He hears you ask, “Why did you even come here, Javi? Can’t believe you drove in this condition.”

This triggers his memory. He recalls the purpose of this trip.

“I love you too,” he blurts out. You freeze. His eyes blink open and meet yours.

Your eyebrows are pressed together, lips parted in shock. He lets it sink in. When you respond, your eyes are brimming with tears and your voice is quivering, “Don’t fuck with me right now, Javier.”

“Mmmnot fucking with you, cariño,” he swears. His hand finds yours, and this time you let him take it, but it’s limp in response. He rubs his thumb against your skin and doesn’t part his gaze, tries his hardest not to slur his words, “I’m tired of running. Don’t wanna hide. I’m in love with you.”

Big, fat tears start to roll hot down your cheeks. You sniffle and wipe them away, avert your gaze, “You’re just saying that because you’re shitfaced.”

“Nope,” a drunk smile stretches across his face, “Figured it out. I- I wanna marry you, have babies with you, all that. I wan' everything with you.”

Your gaze meets his, and he can tell you’re trying to determine whether or not this is the booze talking. And, in a way, it is. He probably wouldn’t have said that last part if whiskey hadn’t destroyed his brain-to-mouth filter. He pulls your hand to his lips and plants a kiss on the back of it, then presses it to his cheek and tells you, “I mean it, cariño.”

“Javi,” you whimper, lips forming a pout as more tears fall, “Can we talk about this when you wake up?”

“Do you love me?” he asks, searching your face, nuzzling against the heat of your hand.

“Yeah,” you smirk, “I do love you. Now please get some sleep, drunky pants.”

“I don’t even have pants on,” he scoffs playfully.

“I know, baby, I took them off,” you snort, then pull your hand away and tuck him into bed. As soon as the warmth of the blankets surrounds him, he passes out.

When he wakes, the clock on your bedside table reads 1:35 PM. There’s music playing from a stereo in your kitchen. His head starts to pound as he sits up and puts his clothes back on, then gets out of bed. He vaguely recalls the things he said to you before passing out.

The floor creaks under his feet when he enters the kitchen, alerting you to his presence. He peers around the room. The bird calendar is still open to November 1998, kingfisher still puffing out its impressive plumage, Wedding Cake Testing 6:00 still penciled in for this Tuesday.

It’s funny how some things remain static although everything around it has changed.

“Hey,” you greet him, flashing a hesitant smile as you lean back against the counter and cross your arms.

Your body language confuses him. Hadn’t he told you? Hadn’t he confessed his love?

Suddenly, anxiety vibrates his bones and leaves him feeling insecure. He approaches you cautiously, “Hey.”

“How are you feeling?”

Your voice is warm and filled with concern. He takes another step towards you and shrugs, “Grateful that you didn’t murder me in my sleep.”

A grin plays on your lips. He comes closer to you, beckoned by the hopefulness brightening your face. You meet his gaze as he brings his hands to your hips. He slides them around you and your crossed arms that quickly respond, wrapping around his back, pulling him closer.

The heat of your body in his embrace pulls a content sigh from his chest and he melts into it. He buries his nose in your hair and inhales the scent of you, and he knows.

“I meant it,” he mumbles against you, closing his eyes and squeezing you tight, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whisper.

Your fingers dig into his skin, like you’re trying to prevent him from escaping. Like if you hook your barbs into him he can’t leave you here to rot in a lie. But he’s not running. Neither are you.

“What are we gonna do?” you ask him.

He knows that this won’t be simple. It means mess. It means burning your lives down to the ground.

“Are you ready to leave him?” he loosens his grasp on you to meet your eyes. Searching for clues. For secrets that might be lingering in the background.

Your gaze is unflinching as you nod. You’re studying him, too. Both so timid as you tiptoe out from behind the curtains and reveal more of yourselves.

His heart is pounding in his chest, fingers tingling, vulnerability peeling away at his layers until he’s just raw, exposed nerves.

“Do you wanna come home with me?”

The question leaves a thick residue in his throat, and he swallows hard.

“Right now? To live?”

He nods, ignoring the knot of insecurity twisting in his stomach that tries to make him doubt you.

It’s like the further you both step into the bright light of truth, the more puzzle pieces you each give and receive, and it starts to fall into place. He sees more than those little jigsawed fragments of you now. He starts to see the bigger picture.

“Yes, Javi,” you nod, eyebrows pressing together as your face crumples into tears of relief. He cups your cheeks with his palms and meets your gaze with a smile that takes up his whole face, folding his eyes into crescent moons.

You pull him into a kiss that ignites his soul, then melt against him.

Illuminated by the hot, glowing flames of your lives burning down, he sees you, and he knows that you see him. And he knows the two of you will dance on the ashes and welcome new growth.

731 notes · View notes

pedroshotwifey · 3 months

Text

To the Flame Chapter 4

Series masterlist

Pairing: Dark!Javier Peña x afab!reader

Word count: 2.3k

Chapter tags/warnings: angst, family arguments, mentions of sex, some fluff, shit getting real

Chapter summary: You wake up with Javi and realize you made a mistake...you woke up with Javi.

A/N: Hey babes!! Thank you for being so kind and patient with me! I promise I see each and every one of you who leave likes, comments, and reblogs on my fics, and I can't thank you enough for your support. It means the world to me! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

***

“Sweetheart, wake up.”

You squint your closed eyes as you register a faint, but familiar, voice accompanied by a gentle hand rubbing slowly up and down your upper arm. You also recognise the feel of a body beneath yours, an equally familiar feeling.

Humming contentedly, you tuck yourself back onto Javi’s warm chest, feeling his arms tighten around you in return. A chaste kiss is pressed to the side of your head. The panic doesn’t even come until you register that it’s lighter outside than it should be.

You prop yourself up as quickly as you can as a sense of dread consumes your body. It’s light outside. It’s morning. You slept in a field in the back of Javi’s truck when you told your parents that you would be home by 11:00pm the night before. They hadn’t even wanted you to go in the first place, which pissed you off because you’re a whole ass adult, but that didn’t mean you were going to purposely make them worry.

Now you’re going to have to go home and get chewed out by your angry parents. At least they hadn’t been nosy enough to try to figure out where you were going, you’d be in some deep shit then. A pang of guilt joins the dread as you think about how much they would both disapprove of you hanging out with Javi, a man who was probably twice your age. You still haven’t asked him exactly how old he is, but you have your guesses.

You whip around to see the man in question looking at you with a perplexed expression, obviously confused by your sudden energy. You don’t even have the mind to apologize as you begin collecting the things spread around in the bed of the truck to put yourself together. You push the sleeves of your dress up all the way and tug on your shoes.

“I need to get home,” you tell him frantically, already hopping off of the truck and into the tall, dewy grass. You turn around to face him and see that he hasn’t moved to follow you.

“Javi, please, I wasn’t supposed to stay out last night,” you try to keep from whining, but you need to get the point across. He furrows his brows but starts to sit up.

“Well I wish you would have told me, I wouldn’t have let you fall asleep, sweetheart,” Javi says as he jumps out behind you, dragging the blanket out with him.

You hum a little in affirmation, though you’re already distracted with opening the door to the cab and hopping in. You feel bad to have sprung this on him after he took the time to plan such a nice date out and hold you through the night, but you feel worse that your parents are probably worried sick right now. You’ll be a little surprised if they haven’t called the cops yet.

Javi gets into the truck a second after you do, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he starts it up. He looks at you and you share a heavy stare. It makes you want to beam at him. The fact that he’s in the truck and willing to take you home, no questions asked and no hard feelings.

The poor guy isn’t even fully awake yet, and he’s already having to deal with your shit. He doesn’t seem to mind at all, and the smirk he flashes your way says as much. It might be the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen, to be honest. You never though bed head could look so good on a person before.

Despite your anxiety right now, it makes butterflies stir in your stomach. Your cheeks start to pink after a moment as you recall last night. You had sex with Javi. As if the soreness of your cunt wasn’t enough of a reminder. And you’re his. You’re his girl. He’s yours.

“Sorry I didn’t say anything, I really didn’t think I was going to fall asleep,” you blurt, trying to find a different headspace so you don’t jump his bones and make yourself even more late.

“It’s okay, honey. I should have asked if you needed to be home at a certain time.”

You both smile lightly at each other before Javi puts the truck into first gear and begins to turn around. He rolls the windows down just enough to let a nice breeze in, and puts the radio on low as you make your way back down the path you took last night.

You sit in a comfortable silence as you gaze out the window. The sun is up just enough to cast everything in a warm golden glow and reflect off of the morning dew still lingering from the night before. Birds are starting to chirp and there aren’t many people on the road. It’s a peaceful morning, and you can’t help but lean back and take a big sigh to appreciate it despite the ball of unease in your stomach.

Javi glances your way as you rest your head back and let your eyes drop closedd, and extends his hand to rest reassuringly on your thigh. You smile and take it with your own, giving a small squeeze.

“It’ll be okay, sweetheart.”

You nod, trying to believe that yourself.

“I hope so,” you tell him truthfully.

Now it’s his turn to nod as he focuses back on the empty road. A song by Waylon Jennings comes on and you reach to turn it up just a little bit. Before long, you can’t help it, and allow yourself to sing along. Javi casts you a glance, smiling widely at your shenanigans. You can’t help but to smile back. Might as well enjoy your last ten minutes of freedom before your parents chain you to the floor.

A couple of songs later, you're pulling into your driveway just enough for you to get out without Javi’s truck being seen. You had told him that it’s probably safest that way. Unless he wants to come face to face with your father’s shotgun. The first thing you notice is that there’s no cops around, so at least your parents didn’t go that far.

You refreshed as much as you could in the truck, trying to smooth your hair down and re-adjust your dress so you at the very least didn’t look like you just got fucked within an inch of your life the night before.

Javi puts the truck in park and leans your way for you to meet him and plant a short kiss on his lips. You hum against him, savoring the plushness of his lips. You already miss the feeling even though you haven’t left yet.

“Thank you again for everything, Javi,” you tell him as you separate, wishing you didn’t have to go.

“Anytime for you, sweetheart,” he responds smoothly and flashes you a wink. Yeah, the smug bastard winks at you.

Clearing your throat and trying to keep from melting to a puddle on the floorboards, you open up the door and slide out until your feet hit the rocks beneath you.

“Call me later?” Javi cranes his neck slightly to ask as you’re shutting it behind you.

“Sir, yes, sir,” you stand and salute with the most serious expression you can muster. He smiles and rolls his eyes playfully, reaching over to tug the door shut when you step back.

“See you soon, bebita,” he says through the open window.

“See you, Javi.”

A stupid grin stays slapped on your face as he backs out and drives off, leaving you with a delightful buzzing sensation spreading throughout your body. God, you’re so fucked. You wish you could just stay with him and not have to worry about people getting pissed. Why can’t your parents just not be overbearing for once?

You never liked your curfew as a teen, but you’d understood it. But You’re fully grown now, and even though you’re living with them again, you don’t think they should be allowed to implement one at all.

You huff and turn to walk up to the house, trying not to come in looking as guilty as you should. You’re not dumb enough to hope that your parents are still asleep. Even though it’s the weekend, they were probably up hours ago to start work around the farm.

The main door is open, as you expected. You take a deep breath and pull open the screen door, which creaks loud enough to let everyone in the house—and quite possibly the entire state of Texas—that you’re home. You wince as you step inside.

You turn towards the kitchen as the door smacks shut against the frame behind you, but you’re stopped dead in your tracks when you see the pile of stuff stacked in the living room doorway. Your stuff. Your heart drops as you take in your suitcases and a few boxes all shoved into a pile by the entryway.

Your body starts to shake as you fight the urge to pinch yourself. This isn’t happening.

“You have until the end of the day to be out of here,” comes a voice from behind you.

You turn on your heel, coming face to face with your mother and father walking out of the kitchen through the tears in your eyes. Your mom is drying her hands with a dish towel, and your father has a folded newspaper in his hand. They look like they would any other morning, but the pure anger and disgust on both of their faces contradicts that.

It feels like someone grabbed your heart from your chest and slammed it on the ground to let it shatter into a million pieces. Never in your life would you ever have thought your own parents would look at you with such hatred in their eyes.

“I-what-what’s going on? I-?” you stamper, your throat dry as you try to figure out where to start your questions. A tear slips down your cheek but you can’t find it in you to be embarrassed.

“Got a call last night,” your mom says in a tone so laden in disappointment that it feels like a shank being sent into the center of your chest..

“Some man called to let us know that our daughter—our daughter—was whoring herself out last night.”

Her voice is bitter but you can still see the mist that coats her own eyes even so.

The shock on your face as you take a step back isn’t enough to prove your innocence. You’re guilty, they know you’re guilty. But how do they know? Who the fuck called them? You didn’t see a single other person last night aside from the car behind you when he was picking you up, and even then it would have been too dark to see what was going on.

“N-no, I–please,” you continue to struggle as you take a step toward them now, not sure of what to do with yourself. Are you supposed to deny it? Play dumb? Beg on your knees for forgiveness? You’re in disbelief, and for what may be the first time in your life, you’re lost.

Even with your ex, you knew what your next plan of action was going to be each time he messed up. Even with that last straw, when you caught him with your best friend, you knew what you had to do. Not now. It feels like you’ll never have a clear enough head to know what to do now.

“I don’t want a fucking explanation, I want you to get the fuck out of my house before I call the cops,” your father speaks up. You know deep inside that there’s no turning back now. Once he starts yelling, things are going to get a lot worse than they have to be, and you know he’s not going to change his mind.

You spot a movement from above you through your blurry vision, and see your sister at the top of the stairs. You can’t see the look on her face, but it might be better not to know. You can handle it from your parents, but never from your baby sister.

She’s looked up to you after all these years, the only one who never stopped believing in you. And you can’t help but feel like you failed her. You’re shaking uncontrollably, trying not to break down, but you can’t help it as she backs away and a choked sob leaves your lips.

You call after her, but your dad shuts that down.

“Don’t you fucking talk to her.” The slight raise in his voice makes you flinch. You want to scream, you want to fight, you want to believe that this is all a nightmare. But you don’t, and you know it’s not. You did this, now you have to live with the consequences.

“L-let me use the phone?” you manage to squeak out despite the fact that you feel like your skin is getting too tight for your body, and the world is closing in, and your intestines are tangling themselves into tight knots. There’s a crushing pressure encapsulating your brain, but you try to ignore it even as it gets worse.

Your dad steps aside, letting you in and then trailing behind you until you pick up the phone with a lump in your throat. You dial up the number you’ve come to memorize, and wait for those usual three rings before you’re greeted by a familiar voice that almost crushes you.

You hear your nickname, and a small part of you perks up at the sound, but it’s still not enough to overpower the nauseating feeling in the pit of your stomach. Sucking in a breath, you try not to start sobbing. That will have to wait until you’re safe in his arms. You know he’ll let you get it all out.

You don’t have anywhere else to go, nobody else to call. Having to call him in front of your parents might be the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done, but you don’t even consider that fact though your shallow breaths and the light ringing in your ears.

“Javi?” you croak, not waiting for him to confirm. You know it’s him. You can sense his presence even through the phone line. “Can you come pick me up?”

***

Thank you so much for reading! Please consider interacting if you enjoyed this fic! <3

Fic tag list: @corazondebeskar @yorksgirl @nerdieforpedro @axshadows @melaninmommy @survivingandenduring @kewwrites @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff @movievillainess721 @callachloe

112 notes · View notes