Oo thanks for the tag, @bitchymanlet! What a pretty art style.
Tagging (with no pressure): @veratrance, @nightthawkss, @mrsackxrman, @lissamaylee, @sire-levi, @deliriously-donna, @amywritesthings, @thechaoticarchivist, @jlle-marie, @alizha, @arthurmorganist, @levisbrat25 + anyone who sees this and wants to join along :)
thanks for the tag marie 🩷 this is adorable & all of y'all are so cute 🥹 i incorporated both the “dark and spooky” and “very nice and cute” aspects of myself hehe
no pressure tags for the homies: @angelicarlert @millermouth @pearlessance @starryackrmn @bumblebeeonthistle @angelsanarchy @lightning-hawke @amywritesthings @ohmypawsandwhiskers & anyone else who'd like to join in on the fun 🌸
"Ashamed of his monstrous form, the Beast concealed himself inside his castle with a magic mirror as his only window to the outside world. The rose she had offered was truly an enchanted rose, which would bloom until his twenty-first year. If he could learn to love another and earn her love in return by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time. As the years passed, he fell into despair and lost all hope. For who could ever learn to love a beast?"
BEAUTY AND THE BEAST (1991)
₊˚ ✧ summary: the world isn't what Javier thought it was, and he makes the decision to come home.
pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader
contents/warnings: Mature - past lovers, friends to ???, the reality of the world, insecurities, javi needs a hug, mental health issues, drinking, smoking, feeling of failure, canon violence and death, mental breakdown, Lorraine mentions, familiarity, nightmare, i did imagine a woman of color while writing this, but all are encouraged to read, no uses of y/n. Apologies if I missed anything.
wc: 2600+
song: tyrant by beyoncé - "i don't want him back, but i can't let go"
a/n: not sure if anyone will really see this but i saw this tiktok the other night and it literally brought me to tears ?? so i wrote about it (not proofread... sue me)
read on ao3
Javier should’ve known it was foolish. How could there be any good left in this world, and what the fuck was he going to do to change it? He wasn’t a hero. He made mistakes, got innocent people killed—his friends. People he cared for suffered because of him.
The clouds in Bogotá always hung low. Dark skies that clung to you desperately. Raindrops that were filled with tears and the bloodshed of both sides of the war. Grief snuck into every crevice of the city until it became too much for everyone—too cold and detached from reality.
It was clear that Pablo Escobar had gone too far, but no one wanted to admit that. Too afraid of being kidnapped and killed next. Or worse.
Perhaps, the DEA being in Colombia made the War on Drugs worse. But these people couldn’t go unpunished, right? At least, that’s what Javier told himself every morning.
The job was nothing like he imagined. It was the complete polar opposite. He wanted to make a difference in the world after seeing the drug distribution throughout Laredo. He knew where and how the drugs were being smuggled in, and he would ‘investigate’ whenever he was at his father’s ranch. But when the cocaine made its way towards a good friend of his and ended his life. Javier knew he couldn’t sit around and do nothing.
Right after graduating college, Javier got a job at the sheriff’s office. He was a deputy for a good while, but soon realized that his reach could only go so far. He wanted to see what was outside of Laredo. He wanted to make a change in the world.
The first drug cartel he was introduced to was the Guadalajara Cartel. He assumed the people he always saw out by the Rio Grande were working for this cartel and were the reason for the cocaine distribution in Laredo. A DEA Agent by the name of Enrique “Kiki” Camarena Salazar was the agent on the case in Mexico. He was kidnapped and brutally tortured for information, until he was later killed.
The death of Kiki caused all hell to break loose. Uncle Sam doesn’t fuck around when it comes to American agents. The people responsible for his death were hunted and brought to justice. Soon, narcos around the world got the message that the DEA is off-limits.
But this was well after Javier asked for a letter of recommendation to the DEA from the sheriff of Laredo at the time.
Only, he was met with grief and destruction. People who took what they wanted and didn’t give a shit about who it affected. Guilty or not, the narcos didn’t care. They only cared about themselves, their money, their families, and their business. As long as they got paid and gained more power, it was fuck everyone else.
Javier’s time in Colombia only showed him how fucked up the world actually is. How faint the line between what’s right and what gets them more power is within the government. If the narcos presented a deal that furthered a politician’s career, more than likely, they took it.
The two worlds started to collide when the Medellín Cartel began to use civilians to make deals with the government so they could kill them. He believed the civilians because he was told to, but believing them, cost the life of a good friend. Horacio Carrillo’s beliefs didn’t always align with Javier’s, but he was still a friend. One of the first people that Javier could actually trust down in Colombia.
But now he’s gone, and Javier blames himself for it. If he didn’t listen to that girl, maybe Carrillo would still be alive.
It didn’t matter if you were the good guy or the bad guy in this situation. Everyone’s fate was just the same. If you were scared to lose, imagine how scared you would be if you won.
Now Javier was back home in Laredo. Everything went to shit after Carrillo’s death and he went off the rails. He put his trust into a vigilante group by the name of Los Pepes, and he got caught. Persona Non Grata–or “unwelcome person” is what Javier was declared as in Colombia. It was his 20s all over again, where he felt like he didn’t exactly belong anywhere yet. He was just floating. A standbyer watching everyone move on with their lives while he was left to pick up the pieces of his own mess of a life.
He stood outside your apartment. Cigarette hanging low between his lips as he leans against his truck. The ember burns bright as all the past memories with you flooded his mind; your laugh, your soft skin that he’d press his lips to, that sweet scent that was so stubbornly you. He had no idea if you were still the same person after a decade, but he needed something familiar and comforting tonight.
Letting the cigarette slip from his lips, he stubbed it out with his boot and made his way up the steps. Javier wasn’t entirely sure about what he was doing or what he would say to you, but he’d figure it out. Slowly he lifted up his fist to knock softly on your door. There’s a very big chance that this isn’t even your place anymore, or you’re asleep, or you’ve moved on from him–he wouldn’t blame you if you did-
“Cariño,” Javier breathes out when the door swings open. It’s you–your hair is a little longer, you’ve lost your baby face, and you’re a bit curvier–but it’s you. Unmistakably you.
“Javi?”
Seeing Javier show up at your doorstep after he practically fled Laredo wasn’t something you expected. He looked exhausted, his scruff coming in making it clear that he hasn’t shaved in some days. The smell of smoke and leather clung to him like a second skin, filling you with a sense of warmth and familiarity–home.
Now he was standing under your front porch light, his leather jacket worn from overuse, his body tired and aching to come back to something–someone–he used to confide in. But your life continued moving after he left. You found someone else, got the job you always wanted, and you were doing fine.
Until now, that is.
“I’m sorry for just… showing up here,” he rubs the back of his neck, a tell that he feels uncomfortable. “I just needed-”
“Somewhere to crash?” you ask him, feeling that familiar sense of dread starting to bubble up.
“No, I,” he sighs heavily, smoothing down his mustache with his forefinger and thumb. “I don’t really want to face my father yet,” he chuckles dryly.
You fall silent at that. You’re very aware of how much Javier’s father expects from him. “Chucho doesn’t know you’re home?” you ask him quietly, watching him carefully as he shakes his head.
This wasn’t the Javier you grew up with. Not the Javier you loved and longed for until you realized he was never coming back. But now he was standing right in front of you. So close that if you just reached out, you could feel him again. Colombia took that Javier away from you, and you’re not entirely sure if you want him back.
Taking a deep breath, you open the door a little wider. “Do you wanna come in?”
Surprise flashes across his face, his brows slightly raising before he’s moving. He walks carefully through the threshold, toeing off his boots as if it’s a habit. Your place still looks the same mostly. The bookshelves were fuller, that familiar scent invading his senses and soothing his soul.
“Thank you,” he whispers once you close the door.
You almost missed it from how soft spoken he was being. Like if he spoke any louder, he’d disturb the quiet of the night. “No need to thank me, Jav,” you shake your head, walking towards your kitchen, intending to pour drinks for the two of you.
“You still drink whiskey?” you ask him as you open the refrigerator, the soft light illuminating your face.
He nods slowly before he answers, “Yeah. On the rocks is fine.”
As you prepare the two glasses, you can feel his heavy gaze on your back. He’s watching your every move, like a predator stalking its prey just before it strikes. Javier has never been able to hide his attraction for anyone–especially you–but this felt like something entirely different. Like he was admiring you. Longing for something beyond the walls of your confined apartment.
Javier murmurs a small thank you when you hand him his drink. His fingers brushing lightly against yours and sending a slight shiver down your spine. The man still has the same effect on you after all these years it seems.
“So,” you start after taking a sip of your whiskey, “what brings you back to… small town Laredo?” you ask him.
He averts your gaze for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck before he downs his drink. “Shit got complicated down there,” he says gruffly, clearing his throat and meeting your eyes again.
You know there’s more to it, but you know Javier well enough to know that he won’t budge if he’s pushed. He’ll tell you when he’s ready–on his own terms. “Got tired of chasing bad guys?” you lightly tease, earning a small huff from him.
“Something like that, I guess.”
Javier slides his glass across the countertop, watching you refill it before you slide it back towards him. His Adam’s apple bobs as he downs his second glass.
A comfortable silence falls over the two of you. This all felt too familiar, too easy. Like your bodies were doing a dance routine that they spent hours collaborating together. You remember the late night phone calls when he just wanted to get away. He’d pick you up in his truck and drive to the edge of town with you to watch the moon spill across the place you called home.
Fuck, this was bad. Javier was so easy to get lost in. He’d make your head all fuzzy, telling you the things you wanted to hear just before he disappeared into the cool night. But this felt different. Weird almost. Like he was searching for a reason to stay, but within you. Almost as if he was wanting to finally grow the seeds he planted so deep inside your soul so early on.
Over time, the hatred you had for him for leaving slowly turned into envy. Envious that he got to leave Laredo while you were stuck here on your own. The two of you made plans to run away together when you were younger, but all of that went out the window when he met Lorraine.
You lost your best friend when she came into the picture. She had some deep rooted insecurities and made it a point that Javier stopped hanging out with you. Deep down, you guess that was the right thing for her to do. Lord knows how close you and Javi were, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.
“You should go see your old man,” you finally break the silence, watching him avert your gaze once more.
“Es complicado, cariño. (It’s complicated, darling.)” Javier sighs out.
“Is it?” you ask, skepticism dripping from your words. “He’d want to see his son. Colombia and Escobar stole you from him–stole you from everyone. Hell, I didn’t even hear from you once, Javi.”
He sighs deeply, rubbing his temples, “Lo siento. (I’m sorry.)” Javier whispers.
“Don’t be sorry, Jav. Make it right,” you pause, studying his retreating form. “He misses you more than you think, y’know?”
Finally, he meets your eyes again, searching them for any sign of a lie. But when he finds none, he exhales slowly, “How do you know?”
“Someone had to watch over Chucho when you left.”
Javier swallows thickly, running a hand through his dark hair. “You didn’t have to. That wasn’t your responsibility.”
“Making the world right isn’t yours but you still did it.”
He grows quiet at that, forefinger tracing the rim on his whiskey glass. The urge to reach out to him grows larger, but you keep your feet planted where they are. Only God knows what kind of mistakes you’ll make the second the two of you make contact.
You think there will always be a part of you that longs to be with Javier. The two of you were young and thought you were in love, but you felt the most alive with him. Perhaps him leaving was the best thing for you. That adrenaline you got from being near each other would’ve died out eventually, and you would’ve hated each other. But you can’t deny that invisible string tugging your soul closer to his.
Back where it was always meant to be.
“I’ll go see him tomorrow. I just… need an escape from it all tonight.” Javier speaks up, breaking the tension building. You’ll be his person one last time, but that was it.
You gather extra sheets, a pillow, and a blanket for him to sleep on the couch. Your bed has plenty of space for him to sleep in it as well, but he insisted on taking the couch. He didn’t want to feel like an intruder in your space.
After you disappear into your bedroom for the night, Javier plops onto the couch with a heavy sigh, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. He wasn’t very hopeful that he’d be able to sleep tonight, but he’d try for the sake of seeing his father tomorrow.
Sleep takes him rather quickly, but it’s not peaceful in the slightest. His nightmares are filled with bloodshed, the look of horror from the people that he couldn’t save, the countless victims from the hands of Escobar and his people. His own mind was his enemy. Haunting him with the horrific memories he tried to block out from his conscious mind.
Reminding him of all the mistakes he made that cost people their lives, all the bad things he saw his own people do, the failure of an agent that he was. The innocent women and children that died, but their deaths could’ve entirely been avoided if he had done things differently.
Then, it’s the vigilante group that he turned to, and couldn’t escape their grasp as much as he tried. Javier knows that he fucked up. He knows that. But he didn’t need his subconscious throwing it in his face when he was miles–oceans away from Colombia.
A hand creeps up his shoulder. Far too gentle to be within his nightmare and he shoots up from his sleep.
“Shh shh, it’s just me, Javi,” you say in a gentle tone, your hands cupping his face. “It’s me.”
Javier relaxes once he comes to, his heart rate slowing down for the time being. “Sorry,” he murmurs, avoiding direct eye contact with you.
Your hands slide down his face, only to rub your thumbs along his jawline. “It’s okay, Jav.”
He exhales deeply, closing his eyes as he melts into your soothing touch. Javier speaks up again after a while, “Did I wake you?”
You just gaze at him for a moment before you nod slowly, “You were talking in your sleep.”
The two of you sit there in silence, gazing into each other’s eyes with nothing left to say. Both of you have changed so much over the years that it’s almost difficult to keep a conversation going. It’s like you’re looking at a brand new person. The new Javier that was molded in Colombia but came back because he missed home. Or at least that’s what you thought.
Conversing with him used to be so much easier when the two of you were younger. Stupid shit would come flying out of your mouth at any given moment, making this situation difficult to sit in. Maybe you’re biased because you used to know him so well, and now you’re just strangers.
