Dilemma
3k3 | Javier Peña x fem reader | ao3 | Masterlist
Summary: your relationship with Javi has never been easy, but tonight, his behavior forces you into the hardest dilemma you have ever faced
Warnings: 18+ mdni. angst, infidelity, smut, petnames (cariño, baby), Javi is bad at feelings, reader wears a dress, piv, creampie
a/n: well, I guess I’m back in my angsty javi era? Thank you so much, if you take the time to read it ❤️ Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta-ing 😘💕 @/saradika-graphics for the dividers 🙏
When Javi came back home, you were sitting at the kitchen table, a cigarette in your hand, an ashtray full of butts that you’d smoked in the last hour in front of you. The blend of scents emanating from him hit your nostrils. Tobacco and alcohol, first.
Then the second wave hit you: heavy perfume and sex. It made you nauseous.
Probably expecting you to be asleep, Javi stopped in his tracks when he saw you and lowered his head, setting his keys, badge, and gun on the sideboard. You looked at him, heart full of anger and venom, but it turned into sorrow and pain when you noticed his gaunt features and the bags under his eyes, more pronounced than ever.
He didn’t say a word, just sat next to you, and dragged his fingers over his forehead, the gesture making his leather jacket creak.
You used to love that jacket, Javi was wearing it when you met for the first time in that bar. But now it was a witness to his encounters with other women, and you hated it.
It was easier to hate the jacket than him.
You cut him off just as he was about to speak.
“Don't lie to me, Javi,” you warned, your eyes fixed on an invisible point on the table.
He stood up, his chair sliding so loudly on the floor that it made your ears ring and your heart bleed, then he grabbed a whiskey bottle and filled two glasses. He placed them on the table, one in front of you. You still weren’t looking at him when he took off his jacket and draped it over the back of his seat. He sat down and began swirling the glass between his fingers as you downed yours in one gulp and took a drag.
“You swore to me it would never happen again. You swore to me, Javi. Why do you keep doing this?” you asked and he lit a cigarette, probably buying himself some time, thinking about the right words to use, the ones that would calm you down.
But those which slipped through his gritted teeth after he drank his whisky only pushed the blade in your heart deeper.
“Doing what?” he grumbled, his eyebrow shooting up, then took a drag and exhaled the smoke, thumb brushing at his lower lip. He was fully closed off, playing an asshole as usual when he didn’t know how to handle something, or didn’t want to.
But he was unable to even look at you. The soft Javi, the one you were so in love with, hidden behind his thick shell.
“Are you fucking serious?” you replied, anger back in full swing. His Adam apple bobbed heavily when he swallowed his saliva.
Seconds passed as none of you talked. You considered leaving him there, alone in the kitchen, and going out to get some fresh air.
You didn’t really know what else to do. You were lost, your heart in shambles.
“I don't know why,” he finally said, voice softer, tinted with a hint of regret as if he wanted to erase his previous words and tone.
“You can talk to me, you can use me to forget.” Your trembling voice was coated with despair. “Why don't you use me if it’s the only thing that makes you forget about your job?”
“It's not the same. I care about you.”
His words felt like a slap and hurt you more than he could imagine.
Or maybe Javi knew, used them consciously as self protection, as a shield or a weapon depending on his inner tournament.
“Fuck you,” you spat. “You care about me but not enough to be faithful.”
“It’s not like that. It doesn’t mean a thing to me,” he said, as if he was talking about something meaningless.
“Really? It doesn’t mean a thing to you? Well thank you for caring about me so much, because it means something to me, Javi,” you replied, voice breaking and tears about to fall, the cigarette shaking in your fingers.
The furrow between Javi’s eyebrows deepened, as he seemed to realize how fucked up his answer was.
“I know. I'm sorry, cariño,” he apologized, sliding his hand towards yours. But you couldn’t bear the idea of letting him touch you. Not when his hands were on someone else an hour ago.
“Don't fucking touch me. Her smell’s still all over you. Go take a fucking shower, at least I won’t smell her cunt on your fingers anymore.”
Shame lingered in his eyes, and he disappeared in the bathroom while tears drowned yours.
You went to bed and turned your back to his side, your pillow quickly wet with tears.
Javi slipped under the sheets after the shower and laid on his back. You imagined him staring at the ceiling, thinking about getting dressed and leaving the apartment to lick his wounds like a stray cat that had just been in a fight and didn’t want to be seen.
He surprised you when his low voice broke the silence. “Can I hug you?”
Part of you wanted to scream, to tell him he was an asshole. The other part wanted to feel every ounce of affection he could offer.
“No, you can’t.”
You fell asleep when you had no more silent tears to cry.
When you woke up a couple hours later, the moon was lighting the room and his side of the bed was empty and cold. You looked at his nightstand and at the Polaroid of the two of you that he kept there.
You felt lonely, vulnerable, as if your ribcage was wide open, leaving your heart bare, unprotected with nowhere to hide.
You thought back to the moment you had met, to the certainty you had felt in your deepest core that he would break your heart sooner or later.
The night you met you were unable to resist the temptation, waving aside bright red flags floating around him like the swirls of his cigarette smoke and the smell of neat whisky.
The only thing you could see and focus on was his fragile soul that he kept hidden deep beneath multiple layers of arrogance, sarcasm and black humor, but that called out to you when your eyes met. As if it were waiting for you.
It didn’t feel like an act of a smooth talker who just wanted to get you to bed. With Javi, his vulnerability seemed genuine, waiting for the right person to show off.
Yet you didn’t expect the right person not to be enough to appease him.
You poured your heart and soul into the relationship, telling yourself that you would wash away his pain with all your tears if you had to.
Now you simply didn't know how much longer you could hold on. Joy started vanishing off your face weeks ago, life drained from your veins and your heart.
But each time you considered packing your bags and leaving Javi, his softer side, the real one, always showed up. His gaze, on the verge of tears, ready to release everything that was haunting him since he joined the DEA in Colombia, everything he refused to show to anyone else but you. Crawling into your arms, his heart beating so fast that the only thing calming him down was your hand pressed to it and the other one cradling the back of his neck.
You got up and found Javi sitting on the couch. You thought about the first time he had fucked you here, the day you had met. How you had fallen in love with him, fastly and deeply, and more and more each day.
It felt like a million years ago. It even felt like another life.
You sat down next to him and took a deep breath, before saying, “I can’t go on like this, Javi.”
He looked at you, his sad brown eyes fixed on your face. Tears welled up in his eyes, his index finger pressed against his temple.
“Don’t say that, cariño.”
“Javi, I… I don't know what to do anymore. You’re hurting me, I hate the idea of sharing you with other women. It’s breaking my heart because I know you're so much more than that, but… I can’t be the only one carrying our relationship.”
“I know, baby. I know.”
“Then say something!” you exploded, not caring about the neighbors, what they might hear or say. “Fight for us. For me,” you begged.
He didn't answer, didn’t say a word. He gave you nothing.
So you went back to the bedroom, put on a dress, grabbed your travel bag and placed it on the bed. Tears were blurring your vision as you were packing it with your clothes. You wiped them with a back of your hand when you heard his footsteps in the hallway. He stood by the door, and your smile was cold when he asked you not to leave. He was wearing only shorts, and under other circumstances, you would have admired his beautiful face, walked towards him, cupped his cheeks and kissed him, but now you were resigned, exhausted, and started making peace with the fact that your last reserves of strength had abandoned you.
“What would you feel if I were the one looking for something by fucking other men?”
A mix of emotions passed over his eyes - possessiveness, sadness and regret- and his whole body tensed.
“I’d be devastated. And I'd want to kill them. Hurt them.”
The violence in his words created a reaction in your stomach that you didn’t expect. You always loved him feral and possessive, when he acted in opposition to his usual cold behavior, but you hated the way your body was still aching for him, falling for desire so easily even now, in that moment.
“Then why are you doing this to me?”
“Because I’m an asshole,” he replied coldly, eyebrows shooting up once again.
“Yes, you are. And I’ve endured enough.” You turned your back to him to keep packing.
He watched you put away the rest of your things, staying silent.
When you reached the door, travel bag on your shoulder, you said, “Move, Javi.”
He did.
Your tears were falling when you walked towards the exit. You took a big breath when you grabbed the handle, trying not to sob loudly.
You swallowed a gasp when his hand seized your arm, and he closed the door with the other one, caging you against it.
“It’s over, Javi. Let me go,” you murmured. You were so exhausted that you had no anger in you any more. You just wanted to go and cry alone, again and again, until you drowned yourself.
“Let me tell you what happened. Please.”
“I don't care. It’s too late-”
“We shot a kid,” he cut. “Someone… someone shot a kid. Just like that, in front of me, in the street. They were all kneeling and he killed one of them in cold blood. Shot him in the head.”
You were facing the door, horrified, not knowing what to say.
“And… I don’t know, I disassociated. Didn’t even realize where I was until I… and then I threw up. Came here. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. Please, believe me… I didn’t know what I was doing. Didn’t want it.”
You turned around to confront him and found yourself facing your Javi. The one you loved, the one who couldn’t hurt you, and it broke your heart when he cupped your cheeks with his hands, showing you his soul and flaws, then whipped a rolling tear on your face.
But how could you separate him from his other self? How could you forgive him when you knew that other side of him was still there, in that dark part of his soul, lurking, ready to reveal itself and take over again.
You shook your head and seized his hands to pull them away.
“You will never quit your job and I would never ask you to, anyway. And I’ll never be sure that it won't happen again. I knew I was taking a gamble by getting into this relationship. I thought I was stronger than that, but I’m not. And honestly, the fact that you didn’t come back to me, that your subconscious didn’t choose me last night, is telling. I’m not the right person for you, Javi. And you’re not the right one for me either.”
“It’s not true,” he countered. “I never loved anyone the way I love you, you know it. Give me a chance. One last chance,” he begged.
You shook your head again, but you made one mistake when your eyes dropped to his lips. He immediately moved closer to you, brushing his nose against yours, whispering “one last chance. Please, cariño,” against your lips before kissing you. It was tender and filled with everything he had to offer you.
You let him slide into your mouth, let his tongue brush yours.
You let his hands grip your hips, let him show you how hard he was.
Javi growled when he felt you surrender to his touch, and nudged your cheek with his face to bury it in your neck, while he freed his cock from his shorts.
He growled when your whole body shivered, as he slid his hand under your dress and pushed your panties aside, nestling his tip at your entrance.
He growled when he felt how wet you were, already ready for him. He pushed in slowly and your nails dug into his shoulders when you realized that you were unable to hold back a moan of pleasure when he filled you perfectly.
Javi rolled his hips, giving you the time to welcome his girth, and grabbed your thigh to put it against his waist.
“You always feel so good,” he murmured, and you bit your lip to suppress a sob, trying to deal with your emotions, your sadness and your need for him despite everything.
“Come here, cariño,” he murmured, leading you towards the couch where he made you lie down, pushing on your thighs to open you up for him.
You seized his cock, circled his length and jerked it, then slid it against your wet folds up to your throbbing clit, the sensation making him moan.
His tip was oozing over your bud, covering it with precum, making him move so easily against your slit.
You focused on your sensations, desperate to forget the reality.
Forget where he was last night.
Forget how a part of you hated him.
His eyes were fixed on your hand wrapped around his cock, his tip brushing against your clit.
He was whimpering, a set of moans escaping his throat as you were using him.
“Lemme see you come. Make a mess, baby,” he said as he unbuttoned your dress and exposed your breasts.
He leaned forward, sucking on one nipple then the other before. taking it in his mouth and nibbling at it, licking it, slowly moving his hips back and forth to match your movements until you came, your clit throbbing against his crown.
He kissed your neck, and kept moving slowly until your whimpers subsided.
When he stepped back slightly, he seemed amazed by the sight of his drooling tip and your quivering pussy, but his gaze changed when he met yours, knowing fully well what you couldn’t hide, the thought of stopping right there, denying him the pleasure of filling your cunt. But the fear of never feeling him inside you again made you yield. When he saw it in your gaze, as if you were an open book, his obsidian eyes grew piercing and he pulled off his shorts, letting them drop by the couch.
He dragged the head of his cock along your folds, covering it with your wetness then slid in slowly, just the tip at first, before withdrawing and pushing back in, going deeper with every thrust, each one leaving you breathless.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“Shut up. Shut up, Javi.”
“Baby,” he said, cupping your cheek, his eyes diving into yours. “It won’t happen again. I promise. I don’t want to lose you.”
He kissed your forehead, pressing himself against you, then let his lips slide down, brushed your nose tenderly with his, before pressing his mouth against yours.
It was sweet and soft, like a warm embrace. You wanted to believe him, but how could you erase the evening before? And the time before that?
“I should fuck two men,” you said defiantly with a desire to hurt him, making him freeze inside you, his eyes searching for yours.
“Do it. If it makes you feel better, do it, I deserve it. But I promise, it won’t happen again.”
“I won’t do it,” you scowled. “It’s not who I am. Make me come before I tell you to fuck off and leave the place.”
He started moving again, grazing your clit with his thumb without taking his eyes off you.
You let yourself get lost in them, in the sensations you were feeling.
You let him kiss you and show you just how much he cared about you. You didn’t doubt it, but it wasn’t enough anymore.
You let him thrust inside you, again and again, and thought about how many times you fucked, how good he was at it. You thought about the good times you had together, how careful he was with you in the intimacy of his apartment. How you loved the way he wrapped his arm around your shoulders when you went out.
“I’m gonna come,” you whimpered and Javi pressed his forehead against yours, brushing your bud gently as you started fluttering around him.
“Cariño… fuck… I’m gonna come too, fuck…”
He exploded, mouth agape, sending hot spurs of cum between your folds, moaning against your mouth.
You both ended up breathless, spent, but he still had some strength to kiss your neck, until you made him stop, sat up and buttoned your dress.
“Let’s go back to bed,” he said.
But you couldn’t.
“Javi.. I can’t. I just can’t. I’m heartbroken. I don’t smile anymore. I don’t eat. I can’t sleep. I’m just…I’m just sad. So I’m gonna leave. And we’ll see if fate makes our paths cross, one day. Maybe you’ll be ready to love me fully. Only be with me.”
You stood up and he put his shorts back on and followed you.
You turned to him and shook your head, then smiled at him. It was a sincere smile, a goodbye, a way of showing him that despite everything, a part of you still loved a part of him.
“I’ll find you,” he said.
A few times Javi went back to the bar where you had met, but you weren’t there.
He threw himself heart and soul into his job, yet you never left his thoughts.
When Escobar killed Carrillo, he wondered if he would have been able to keep his promise while begging for one last chance. He hoped so. He thought so.
He hoped you were happy, that your smile was back.
Three years later, Javi resigned from the DEA. You never crossed paths, but he never stopped thinking about you. The Polaroid was still on his nightstand, and sometimes he would stroke your cheek in the picture, recalling the feel of your skin beneath his fingers.
Javi went back to the bar one last time, as if to say goodbye to your memory, hating the idea that he didn’t find you, despite his promise.
He smiled when he saw you there, sitting on the same stool as the day you had met.
You turned toward him as if you sensed his presence, and you smiled too.
“Fate,” he said.
“Maybe,” you replied, smiling at him, and offered him a seat next to you.
Javi p masterlist
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