I am happy to announce that I’m back, filled with new ideas and inspiration. This time I am bringing a story from a completely different atmosphere. I hope many of you will be interested and enjoy it.
This post will be a pinned one, I am collecting all my writings here. Hopefully with time the list will evolve and include many more wonderful stories.
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Harry Potter Universe
All the time on Earth (George Weasley x Reader) Finished
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Summary: During a nighttime pillowtalk, Javier convinces you to go to the U.S. with him.
Warnings: Nothing. Pure fluff.
Word Count: 1.3K
Javier Peña x Reader
Episodes
It was quiet. You were almost asleep, drowsing in the warmth of the bed, listening to the sound of your own breathing. You felt the familiar weight around your body, and felt the strong chest against your back. Your skin had been caressed by the soft lips an hour ago, and now those lips were brushing against the back of your neck.
The dim light from the streetlamp shed an orange tone on the room. It has been raining all day, but Javier’s warmth made you comfortable and cozy. You snuggled closer, taking a deep breath in satisfaction.
A loud bang made you jump and wince; the noise came from outside, but not far from the house. Javier was already on his feet, his figure stood like a shadow in front of the window.
“Stay down!”
You did as he told you, lying motionless under the covers. Javier was holding onto his gun, while scanning the street. Even in the half lit room, you could see that tipical stern expression on his face that always appeared whenever he was in deep concentration. For some reason, it made you calm. You knew if he payed attention to something like that, nothing bad could happen.
“Kids,” he said finally, and put down the gun, relieved. “It’s all right.”
You nodded and waited for him to come back to bed. When he did, you rested your head on his chest, and he welcomed you in his arms without hesitation. You could feel your heart beating with a thousand miles per hour. You knew that Javier felt it, too.
“It’s all right,” he said soothingly, while gently caressing your back. “I’m here.”
“I know,” you said shakily. “It’s just… ever since…”
“I know, Cariño.”
You fell silent. Even though Javier totally understood, you still felt ashamed. The attack on you had happened only two months ago. Yes, it had been for a while. But at the same time, it still lived vividly in your head.
You shivered.
“Are you okay?” Javier spoke softly, as if he was afraid that his tone would harm you.
You looked up to him. His face was shadowed by the darkness, but you could still make out his features if you really tried. The fuzzy hair, the shape of his nose, the mustache and the soft lips. You chose the lips, pressing a soft kiss onto them.
“Stay with me and I’ll be okay,” you said, feeling absolutely vulnerable. You hated exposing yourself like this. But at the same time, you couldn’t help it. When Javier was with you, you couldn’t hold back.
“You know I’m trying,” he said, reaching for your face and placing your hair behind your ears. “Soon —”
“I know,” you said quickly, because you didn’t want him to believe that you were selfish. Escobar and his men were facing serious danger now, and everyone felt in their bones that the end of his reign was coming. “I meant… I just innocently wish that you could stay a little longer.
You sighed and chuckled at your ridiculous wording.
“Innocently?” Javier asked teasingly. “I don’t know about that.” He kissed you delicately, then pressed soft kisses all over your face. When he pulled away, he took a deep breath as if he wanted to say something, but then stopped.
“What is it?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Come with me to America.”
Silent fell on the room. You chuckled.
“What are you talking about?”
He didn’t respond. In the darkness you couldn’t see his eyes and it drove you mad.
“Javi?”
“They’re sending me back.”
“What do you mean they’re sending you back? Why?”
“I don’t think you should hear it.”
His voice was low and rusty, all the warmth had disappeared from it. You asked cautiously.
“Did you… do something —”
“Bad? No…”
“Illegal?”
He stayed silent and your stomach formed into a tight knot. You reached for his face, cupping his cheek.
“Did you do something… shady, so that you could help more people?”
You felt him nodding. You swallowed. You had seen the news. And you weren’t stupid.
“Is it… something about the Cali Cartel?”
Quiet.
“Javier?”
“Yes.”
“And they’re sending you home for it?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
“What?!”
You sat up, fully awake, outraged. You looked down on Javier’s dark silhouette.
“Why are you only telling me this now?”
His voice sounded bittersweet.
“Cause I knew you wouldn’t come with me.”
“And?”
“And I didn’t wanna spend our last day with saying our goodbyes.”
“Why?” you asked, hurt. “Cause it’s not your style?”
He stayed quiet for a few second before he answered.
“Yes.”
You felt your throat hurting, you felt your eyes stinging. You turned away, facing the other side of the room. You didn’t wanna cry. But you felt so betrayed. Again.
A hand appeared on your back and Javier sat closer to you, gently pulling you to himself.
“I’m sorry. I thought I was doing something right. I fucked up.”
“You did,” you answered at once.
“It had no intention to hurt you.”
You nodded, but didn’t respond. Simply accepting the thought to say goodbye to Javier was outrageous. You felt incredibly anger in you towards him for keeping this from you. But at the same time, you didn’t want to hold grudges if he really had to leave. And, nevertheless, you felt panic building up inside you, knowing that he’s going to leave. You didn’t want him to leave. You had stayed in this country mostly for him. He knew how to talk to you. He knew how to make you calm, or hype you up. He knew the little things that made you happy, and he knew how to be there for you whenever you needed him. And you needed him. Just as much - and now you surely knew that it was true - he needed you.
“So where would we go?”
You felt him turn to you.
“We?”
“Yes. Where would we go?”
He placed a small kiss on your shoulder.
“Texas.
You shook your head in disbelief.
“Texas. And where would we live?”
“In my family home. Maybe not far from it.”
“And what’d we do?”
He chuckled and kissed your neck, whispering.
“You’d meet my dad. He’d love you. We’d also go to visit all the family. I have some cousin who is about to get married. I’d take you to the weding. Show you off. Then, when no one is watching, we’d sneak out, get in the car, and I’d drove us to a place that I visited a lot when I was younger. You can see the whole city from up there, with the stars abo —”
“When did you get this romantic?” you cut him off. You turned around to look into his eyes. The beam from the streetlamp painted them in the color of chestnut. Around them, wrinkles lined his face. He was smiling.
“Since I really want to impress you.”
You nodded and turned back. You really didn’t know what to do. You came here to start a new life. To find yourself. To leave this all behind again would be… would be…
“But you don’t have to come,” said Javier huriedly. “If it’d be too much… I don’t wanna force you to —”
“I’ll come with you,” you said. It was strange, but you felt it to be right. “But only because it’s you. I doubt that staying here will make any sense if you’re not here with me.”
Javier shook his head in surprise. His lips were parted as if he was breathing in a very careful manner. You loved those lips.
“You’re crazy,” he said. You smiled and kissed him gently, in a was that you had been wanting to do it for months. He melted into the kiss, holding you close to his chest. You pulled him as close as you could, your fingers playing with his hair.
“I love you,” you said, once pulling away. “And what’s another start over for me? At least now it’s with the right person.”
“I love you, too,” he said with a smile, kissing you on the cheek. “And I’d say you’re right, Cariño.”
---
Hey there!
Thank you so much for reading this little mini-series of mine. Feel free to give me your thoughts, and to check out my other stories here.
Summary: After a lot of arguing, you finally tell Javier how you feel. But what happens after, when you find out who was behind the murder attempt on your life?
Warnings: Mentions of death, Fluff, Angst
Word Count: 3.1K
Javier Peña x Reader
Episodes
“And this is when they broke down the door?” the lady asked while writing in a notebook. You were staring at the table and answered quietly.
“Yes.”
“What happened after?”
“I… uh… I hid in the bathroom,” you voice was shaking and you felt sick. “I closed the door and… uh… pushed the cabinet in front of it. They tried to… break in and… started shooting and kicking the door.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know,” you said, shivering. “Some time. I held the cabinet from the inside but… they were stronger. But when they kicked in the door they… heard the cars outside. The police, I guess.”
The woman wrote something, nodding. She seemed disturbingly calm.
“And this is when they grabbed you?”
“All right, that’s enough.”
Javier, who had been standing behind you in the corner of the interrogation room, now stepped closer and gently grabbed your shoulder. You fell at ease at once and took a deep breath. The woman looked up, raising an eyebrow.
“We need to get the details of the incident.”
“I can give you the rest,” Javier said impatiently and opened the door. “Come by my office whenever you like.”
The woman didn’t answer. She looked at you but you casted down your eyes. You felt really uneasy. Finally, she gathered her papers and left for the door, but not before she stopped in front of Javier.
“No wonder nothing gets done around here, Peña.”
“What a shame,” he said without the least amount of compassion, then shut the door.
You reached for your glass of water on the table and started sipping it. Javier pulled the woman’s chair over and sat down next to you.
“Are you okay?”
You shrugged, avoiding his gaze. From the corner of your eyes you saw him hesitating, then he reached out, offering his hand. You took it. His warmth made you feel much more safer. You looked at him.
“I’m just trying to figure out how did they know.”
“That the picture is from you?”
You nodded. Javier gently squeezed your fingers.
“At the DEA I am the only one who knew it was from you. And not many people saw the picture itself, either.”
“I know,” you said tensely. “But someone still knew.”
“You didn’t show it to anyone, right?” he asked in an interrogative manner. You frowned.
“Of course not.”
You looked down at your intertwined fingers. You knew that he was just worried, but his stern mood made you uneasy. You were incredibly grateful to him, though. If he hadn’t shown up…
You closed your eyes, trying to calm down. You had to remember. You concentrated, trying to go over the day from months before, when you had taken the photograph. What had happened exactly? You had gone to work, you had taken photos… it had been really warm that day… Danilo had been there as well, asking you out again… after that, you had gone home, but only recognized the men on the photograph a few days after.
You opened your eyes and looked up.
“I went to the police station,” you said quietly. Javier leaned closer.
“Go on.”
“When I had the picture… I went to the police station with it. I didn’t know what to do.”
Javier sat up straight, his face in deep concentration.
“Did you show it to anyone?”
“No,” you shook your head at once, trying to pierce things together. “No, I didn’t… I only…I…”
“What?” asked Javier impatiently. He looked tense. “What is it, Liz?”
“I showed it to Danilo,” you said slowly, frowning. “But he can’t… he couldn’t…”
You locked eyes with Javier and witnessed how he realized the meaning behind your words. His face darkened by the second.
“When was the last time you talked to him?” he asked tensely.
“Yesterday,” you said at once, thinking. “He… He wanted to hang out, he… asked me if I was home.”
Javier looked up, alert.
“He didn’t show up.”
“No,” you shook your head. Then quickly added, “he was supposed to come over later, I’m not sure if… Where are you going?”
“Stay here.”
“Javier!” you stood up, too, standing in his way. “Where are you going?”
“I’ll pay your friend a visit.”
You felt all the blood leaving your face. You started shaking your head vehemently.
“Are you insane? It’s bad enough that I even had the idea to think he did something… What if I’m wrong and he’ll hate me forever?”
Javier stopped and closed his eyes in concentration. When he looked at you again, his face was dead serious.
“You’re telling me that he saw the picture.”
“Yes.”
“And he called you yesterday.”
“Yes, but…”
“He still hasn’t shown up,” he said, cutting you off.
“Yes, but…”
“Liz!”
“We can’t be sure, Javier! If we mess this up… He’s my friend! He’ll never forgive me if I accuse him of something like this!”
“He still needs to be investigated!”
“Please!” You grabbed his arms desperately, “I don’t want you to break down his door and arrest him!”
“Oh, it’s not gonna be just me. I’m calling a team.”
“Please, Javier,” you were literally begging now. “Please, let me call him!”
“So he can realize what’s going on? Hell no.”
“I just wanna talk to him…”
“If you call him, you’ll let him know we’re coming!”
“Then I’ll go over,” you said, determined. Javier’s already stressed face turned even more tense.
“No fucking way. If he had any connection to yesterday’s….”
“Why wouldn’t you just let me —”
“Because I don’t wanna lose you!”
You took a step back in surprise. Javer was panting, his expression angry, his muscles tense. He was clenching his jaw and you could see how hard it was for him to talk in a low voice.
“I am not going to lose you. After yesterday… No way. There’s just no way.”
He opened the door, but before stepping out, he turned back slightly, talking to the floor.
“I’ll call you later. Let you know what we found out. After that, I’m buying you a fucking ticket home.”
He stepped out of the room and turned left on the hallway. You were tearing up. You just couldn’t believe that one of your very small group of friends would betray you. And you knew how hurtful it would be for Danilo, if he found out that you accused him of anything like this. Javier had no right. He had no right doing this. You wiped your tears away and followed him outside, shouting at his back.
“I hate you!”
He stopped, but didn’t turn around immediately. You thought he was going to be angry, but quite the opposite: he looked distressed, almost in agony. His eyes met yours across the hallway.
“I’d rather have you hate me, than be dead.”
Then he left and you didn’t follow him.
——
Through the whole afternoon you sat by the phone in your office. You didn’t want to talk to anyone. Your tears had stopped by then, but the guilty feeling did not pass. You couldn’t stop thinking about Danilo. He had always been so nice to you. He had always been there for you, whenever you needed him. And now, thanks to you, your friendship was coming to a painful end.
He had stood by your side when you felt down. He had been there when Javier had not. He… he had promised to come over yesterday… But he had not shown up.
You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths. You were so confused.
You wanted to go for a walk to clear your head. You stood up and left your office, heading outside. However, something stopped you. Around the main office, where Javier’s and Steve’s desks stood, the ususal buzzing of the place was missing. To be exact, there were very few people around.
“Where is everyone?” you asked a passing officer in concern. He looked up, confused.
“On the raid,” he said with an accent. “The Americans requested back up on an arrest.”
You nodded, your stomach shrinking to a size of a nut. The officer went on, leaving you behind. You made a fist and then released it, shaking your hands anxiously. You had no idea what to do.
What was going on? You poured yourself a glass of water and started sipping it. The surface of the water was shaking as you were holding the cup.
This can mean a lot of things. Javier requesting back up didn’t necessarily mean that he was in trouble. He might just wanted to play safe.
But what if he didn’t? What if something really bad was going on?
It cannot be. Please, it cannot be.
But what if it was? What if everything was true, and Danilo did have some connection to the attack on you? He had called, but never shown up. He had not tried to contact you since. And now the whole DEA is there with police back up, and you had no idea what to do.
What if Javier was right? Not even that, but… what if he really was in danger? And the… and the last thing you had ever said to him was that you hated him.
You sat down on an empty chair and closed your eyes. Immense guilt was rushing through you. You hated feeling like this, and you hated that you always made statements in the heat of the moment. You hated that you always rushed into conclusions, and there was nothing left after but guilt and shame.
And so you waited.
You had to force yourself not to check the clock every ten seconds. You forced yourself to keep calm, to think about something else. It was horrible, and always had been… waiting for Javier to return from a mission… from a mission that was not guaranteed to be a successful one.
But you didn’t want to think about that. So you waited.
It felt like an incredibly long time had passed, when finally you heard noises and people from around the front of the building. You stood up, rushing through the hallway, heading for the crowd. The first two man you passed were in green uniform, holding a rifle in their hands. The next second you saw a pair of cops, leading someone in cuffs. As you stepped closer, with a painful sting in your heart, you recognized Danilo. You had seen him before he saw you, but when he did, the usual smile and the sparkle in his eyes were missing.
“Danilo!” you tried to get to him, but the cops didn’t let you. “Let me — !”
“Can’t do,” said one of the cops sternly. “Ma’am, please step away.”
“He didn’t do anything!” you said, panicking. The first cop narrowed his eyes.
“Ma’am, he attacked three police officers during his arrest and killed one agent. I order you to let us through.”
“Kill… what?”
But they left, pushing you aside. Danilo didn’t even look at you, he kept his head low. You wanted to scream. You wanted to run after him, making sure he’s okay. But then the words of the officer slowly crawled into your mind, and you stepped back, trying not to faint.
Killed one agent.
You sprinted down the stairs, running towards the entrance, where you knew the arriving task force would be. Your heart was beating rapidly and you started to feel sharp pain in your chest. You were looking everywhere; every passing agent, every arriving officer… but none of them was him. You started panicking and ran outside to where a lot of cars were still arriving.
You stopped for a second, until you were able to take a deep breath. Then, you started scanning through the crowd, stumbling uncertanly among the people. You were sure that they would take the injured to the hospital. What about the dead? Where would they take the dead?
You couldn’t take it anymore. Panick and fear made your heart race, and blood was throbbing in your ears. You started running again, more desperate and scared with each passing second. You couldn’t breath. You couldn’t see. He was not there. He was not there.
And then he was.
“Javier!” you screamed and started running. He didn’t hear you. “Javier!”
He turned around just in time to catch you, crashing against his chest. As soon as you wrapped your arms around him, all the fear and panick left your body. With relief came the tears; you were sobbing into his shoulder while Javier firmly pulled you to him, his strong arms around your back.
“Hey…” he said gently, and you heard the worry in his voice. “It’s okay…”
“I’m so sorry!” you sobbed, hugging him as tight as you could. “I’m s-sorry! I don’t hate you!”
“Oh…” he said in a surprised tone. Then, he gently brushed his fingers through your hair. “That’s good to hear.”
You pulled away from him, but only to look into his eyes. He seemed confused, distressed… sad.
“I don’t hate you,” you said again.
“I know,” he said, his brown eyes full of kindness and care.
“I love you,” you said, without thinking.
It happened faster than lightning, and his lips were on yours, his hands still on your back, pulling you closer and closer. You melted into his arms, taking in his smell and the taste of his lips on yours. Adrenaline was coursing through your body once again, but this time you craved it. And you were holding onto him as well, wanting more and more. You felt safe. You felt free. And you were happy.
Once his lips left yours, you didn’t back away, and neither did he. He placed a small kiss on your cheek, then one on your forehead. You raised your head to meet his eyes. Finally, you smiled.
“Fucking finally,” he said, his voice unusually warm. You smiled and gently caressed his cheek, feeling stubble under your fingers.
Then, the bubble around you burst, and you were aware of your surroundings again. People were still talking around you, and there was still something left to do. You casted down your eyes.
“Who died?”
Javier clenched his jaw. He looked away, chewing on his tongue, then answered with his eyes narrowed.
“Juarez.”
You nodded. You had barely seen the guy, but it was enough to make you feel sick. You locked eyes with Javier.
“I need to talk to him.”
“That son of a bitch was about to escape when he started shooting people. There’s no fucking way I’ll let you go in that room.”
“He’ll be in cuffs,” you said. “Please. He might talk to me. I need to know what happened.”
He was thinking for a long time, but you didn’t give in. And Javier knew you wouldn’t. He nodded slowly, chewed on his tongue a bit more, then said:
“I’ll be on the other side of the door. And you won’t go near him. No contact. You’ll only talk.”
“Okay,” you said quickly, agreeing before he’d change his mind.
“And if I say time’s up, if I say he’s about to play rough, you come out. Immediately.”
“Yeah,” you said, suddenly eager to act. Javier nodded.
“Fine. Let’s go.”
Once inside, Javier lead you to the room where you first met him, the day you had come in with the photograph. You stopped uncertainly before the door, eyeing the two guards standing in front of it. You felt Javier’s hand on your back.
“You don’t have to go in.”
“I want to,” you said, feeling detemined but anxious. Javier nodded.
“I’ll be here. You’ll have around ten minutes before we need to properly question him.”
You took a deep breath and grabbed the doorknob. You opened the door slowly and stepped inside.
Danilo was sitting by the table, his hands tied together. As you closed the door and took a few steps towards him, he looked up.
“Hi,” you said, feeling shy and nervous.
“Hi,” he said indifferently. You were unsure where to start. You were also unsure whether you wanted to start at all.
You took one step closer, but stopped. You felt Javier’s invisible eyes on your from behind the door.
“Are you here to help me?” asked Danilo. His usual warmth was missing from every word he said. “Or are you here to question me?”
“I’m here to ask you the truth.”
“The truth.”
He raised his eyebrows. He looked like a completely different person as he leaned back on his chair, coolly, dismissively.
“The truth is that I’ve asked you out twenty seven times. Did you know that?”
“N…no,” you said uncomfortably. You were not sure where this was going.
Danilo shrugged.
“I could’ve protected you.”
“What are you talking about?”
You felt extremely nervous. Danilo’s strange behaviour made you uneasy as hell.
“You should’ve just given me that fucking picture. But you had to run to the DEA, didn’t you?” he chuckled darkly, then his cold smile faded. “You had to run to that fucking Peña.”
He spat. You jumped in shock.
“You said a lot of cops were dirty,” you started, your voice shaking. You didn’t want to believe what was happening. “D…did you mean yourself?”
“I never lied to you, did I?”
You felt the whole room spinning.
“I can’t believe this,” you said, tearing up. “You… Did you mean yourself?!”
“I could’ve protected you,” you mumbled coldly. “I could’ve given you a good life.”
“We… we were just friends.”
He stared. He stayed quiet while he looked you up and down, then leaned forward and started speaking very fast.
“Should’ve been more. Liz, you were always so self-absorbed, you didn’t even see the possibilities we could’ve had. Through my connections… With you by my side…”
“You’re crazy,” you blurted out. Danilo didn’t like it.
“I am the crazy one? You stayed in the country, despite the fact that the whole fucking cartel was after you!”
“You knew about that?” you asked, stunned. A horrible thought occured to you. “Did you know about the attack on me as well?”
Danilo shrugged while not taking his eyes off you.
“Who do you think told them where to find you?”
You gasped for air while your brain was trying to process this information.
“All… all because I didn’t go out with you? All because… how can you… I trusted you!”
He slammed the table so fast it caught you by surprise. He stood up, kicking his chair behind, his face furious.
You never heard what he wanted to say. The door on your right opened, and Javier appeared with Murphy by his side.
“All right motherfucker, calm down,” said Murphy, pointing at him from a distance. He kept his other hand on his belt, ready to grab his gun.
“You okay?” Javier stepped to you, gently cupping your face. You needed a moment, but then nodded.
“Yeah. Let’s get out of here.”
And fighting your tears, you left the room, ready to never see Danilo again.
Summary: Even though they admitted their feelings, Liz and Javier don’t talk, until one day when she needs him more than ever, when her life is in danger. Will Javier be able to save her?
Warnings: Cursing, Blood, Death, Angst, very little fluff at the end
Word count: 3.6K
Javier Peña x Reader
Episodes
It was stupid to think that Javier could ever feel the same way about you. You despised your naive thoughts and hopes, and you absolutely hated how hurt you were. You were not supposed to feel like that. You knew he didn’t deserve it. You knew it had been a pipe dream, you knew you had just been a toy to him, and you knew that he wasn’t into you. Maybe to fuck, sure. You knew his ways. But you also knew that you didn’t want to involve him in your life anymore.
However, Javier thought otherwise. He made extra effort to talk to you every single day. He was always waiting for you in your office, determined to talk to you, desperate to explain, to make it right. You were sick of it, especially since you craved those times when you had spent hours together. But you stayed strong, even on those days when you wanted nothing but fall into his arms. You wanted to give in so bad… but what stopped you was the things you had seen. You had watched Javier charm other women to get what he wanted… it was just his way of doing things. A slight touch on the arm, the cupping of the cheeks… eventually they had all given in.
But you were too ashamed. You felt humiliated. So you stood your ground. Until the next Wednesday, when he caught you off-guard while you were looking for some old negatives in a room full of useless old files.
Your eyes went wide as you saw him standing there. He was wearing a light suit and tie, but his hair was all messed up. He closed the door and with a stern expression on his face, he pointed a finger at you.
“I’m ending this bullshit. You won’t let me come clean for weeks now.”
“Well, maybe that’s because I don’t want to hear whatever you want to say,” you said, taking a step back.
“At least give me a chance.”
“I don’t want to,” you said, determined to end the conversation. Javier took a step closer.
“Liz… please. I…”
“I don’t care,” you said loudly and clearly. His pleading eyes broke your heart.
“Leave me alone Javier.”
He suddenly narrowed his eyes.
“Why do you care so much?”
“Excuse me?” you said, questioning him. He chewed his tongue, thinking.
“Why is what happened such a big deal for you?”
You felt really uncomfortable. You tried to keep your reaction to the minimum, but it was hard.
“I couldn’t care less about what happened.”
He snorted.
“Liar.”
“What the —”
“Do you feel something for me?”
“What?” you said, now alarmed. Javier was intensely locking eyes with you. You stepped back, hitting the edge of your table. There was no way out.
“Do you feel something for me?” he said again, this time barely louder than a whisper. His eyes were full of hope and pleading. Once again, you found yourself longing for him, not wanting to do anything but kiss those beautiful lips so close to yours. You had to gather every strength to answer.
“No.”
You wanted to look away but he didn’t let you. His eyes kept yours as their prisoners, and there was no escape. You became very conscious of your breathing. It was hard to breath. Javier closed the distance between the two of you, leaving only an inch of space. He seemed determined, but uncertain at the same time. He was still whispering when he spoke.
“What if I do?”
“What… What do you mean?” you said, barely able to form the words. He was just... so close.
“What if I… feel something for you?”
The question hang in the air. Javier glanced at your lips. It was a quick glance but you didn’t need more. You pushed him away in rage and shouted.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
He looked shocked.
“What is wrong with you?”
“Do you seriously want to tell me, that you have feelings for me? After what you’ve done?!”
“I thought you didn’t care wh —”
“Oh, shut up, of course I care!”
“But you said —”
“Of course I have feelings for you!” you said, totally letting down your guard. You just didn’t care anymore. Also, you were extremely angry. Javier, however, lit up.
“So you’ll say we can… you know.”
“You cannot be serious,” you said, shaking your head in disbelief. Javier frowned.
“Why? What do you want from me?”
“I don’t know, maybe don’t bring a hooker next time when I’m coming over.”
You went around him and headed for the door. He called after you in despair.
“Liz, come on, I’m… I’m really sorry about —”
“You’ve hurt me, Javier,” you said, looking over your shoulder. “You had feelings for me, and you were still fucking around… I feel awful. I just wanna forget that we ever met.”
“Can’t we try again?” he asked hopefully, casting down his eyes. You shook your head.
“You really are an asshole.”
And with that, you left.
——
Javier didn’t look for your company anymore. You missed him immensely, and you couldn’t stop thinking about what he had told you. But at the same time, your pride was bigger and your urge to forgive, and that made it really hard to just go up to him and talk about what happened. So you didn’t talk at all.
Instead, you spent most of your freetime alone, or with Danilo. It wasn’t as easy being aound him than it was with Javier, but you were fine. It helped to have some company, especially since you felt as if you were back on square one, considering the friendships you had made since being here.
“How about I’ll come over later?” Danilo asked on the phone. You rolled your eyes, but didn’t mind that much. “Will you be at home around six?”
You looked at the clock, it was a little after five. You nodded.
“Sure. Sounds good.”
“All right. See you, then.”
You hung up the phone and took the Spanish dictionary to finish a homework you had for the weekend class. It was nice, learning new things. You just wished that life was easier, and you would be able to concentrate on this thing. You constantly forgot what you were doing; all you could think of was the emptiness in your stomach, that couldn’t be filled with any kind of food.
You went to the kitchen and poured yourself a glass of water, when you heard it. A car stopped in front of your house, its tires squeeking on the concrete. You raised your head in suspicion and looked at the clock; it was too early for Danilo to arrive. You went to the windows and peaked from behind the curtains. Outside stood a huge, red car; next to it two men in dark clothes. Both of them was holding a rifle.
Alone.
Your first thought was that you were completely alone. You were going to die, and a strange calmness came over you. It felt weird. It felt strange, knowing that this was the end.
Then, as the adrenaline kicked in, your limps started shaking and your brain froze. The fog of fear blurred your mind, and you wanted to run, you wanted to hide, but you were stuck there, looking out the window, unable to move. You watched as the two man walked up to your front door and said something to each other. You forgot to breathe.
As one of them raised his hand to knock on the door, something hit you and you were awake. You stumbled over to the phone, dialing the first and only number that came to your mind. You messed up three times because of your shaky fingers, and while you were struggling with your tears and your breathing, you heard that downstairs the door was kicked in.
There was dialing, and when you heard his voice, you actually started to cry.
“Peña.”
“Javier!” you sobbed, trying to talk as understandably as you could. It was really hard. “They’re here.”
——
Javier had never been more terrified in his entire life. The technical team behind him was ready to fight, but he had no idea what would wait for him when he arrived at your house. He drove like crazy, almost running over a couple of kids crossing the street. He honked at them angrily and cursed like a maniac. No one in the car said a word.
He thought about the last time you two had spoken. He remembered the shame and the anger in your eyes, and he remembered how guilty it had made him feel. He also remembered how horrible it had been when you had been giving him the cold shoulder. He had wanted to talk to you for so long… he had been waiting for your call… but not like this. Not with your life in danger.
He couldn’t help it. Just a for a second, but he imagined what would happen — no. No, this couldn’t be happening. It won’t be happening. Not, if it was up to him.
The only problem was, that it was not up to him.
He drove on. He had never been a praying man; but now his hands were trembling as he squeezed the wheel, and he found himself silently begging to anyone who would listen.
He turned right on your street and pushed the gas with enormous strength. The houses flew by the car, and finally, at the end of the street he saw your apartent window. In front of the house, a red jeep was standing. They were still here.
He stopped the car, and two other policemen parked theirs behind him. He got out immediately and looked up at your window. His heart was beating incredibly fast, and he had to make a huge effort not to kick in the door and run up to you by himself.
Five policemen joined him, and one of them went up to the door, ready to break in. In that moment, shots were fired upstairs, and everyone ducked. A man was standing in the window with a rifle, shooting at one of the cars. Javier, with many others fired back, but the guy disappeared behind the wall.
“We’re going i — !” Javier shouted, but was cut off by a terrible scream. His whole body froze, and fear started eating his heart. He felt like he was gonna throw up. It was you, screaming.
Another man came back to the window, but was shot immediately and fell down to the pavement. Javier heard the bones crack, and he knew that there was one problem less. He tried to focus, wanting to make a run for the entrance, but in that moment the door opened, and two people appeared in front of him.
——
“I’ll kill her!” you heard the man shouting, and you were sure that you were gonna die. You couldn’t see anything as he dragged you outside, blood, sweat and tears blurrying your sight. All you saw was a bunch of faceless people around you, and all you felt was a cold feeling on your temple.
You sobbed as you felt the man behind you moving, grabbing onto your neck. You couldn’t breath properly, and while everyone was shouting around you, all you could think of was air. You were choking, still backing away from everyone. The red car came to your view, and you whined, but didn’t dare to refuse moving.
There was intense shouting around you and you couldn’t understand a word. You were still fighting for air. At once, the man behind you stopped, and you actually had a moment to look around.
“Drop the fucking gun!”
“Let her go and we’ll make a deal!”
“Drop it!”
“Let the woman go!”
“Shoot me and I’ll kill her!”
The man behind you shouted something and you felt him grabbing you with even more force. You stumbled, almost breaking your ankle. At your head, the end of the ice cold gun was pressing into your bone.
You looked around, looking for him. And then, he was there. It felt as though everything slowed down, and the voices around you got really mushy, not coherent anymore. He was wearing a green vest, holding a gun in his hand. He was looking at you. You had never seen his face so scared, so much in agony before. Your eyes met, and in that moment you realized that you were going to die. You started panting, your tears falling again. And you saw him looking over your shoulder, then back at you, and him realizing as well, what was about to happen.
“Look at me,” you saw him forming the words, and even though you couldn’t hear him, you heard his voice in your head. “Only me.”
You nodded and sobbed, terrified. But you managed. He was holding your eyes, and you let go of everything else. It was only him existing in front of you, Javier and no one else, and you were fine with that. He kept on talking to you while all around you chaos rose. You were captivated by his eyes, and he didn’t let go of yours even for a second.
You knew something was going to happen before it had happened. Javier’s eyes left yours as he looked behind you, and a second after you heard a shot and felt yourself being pushed to the ground. The weight of the man from behind you was gone, but you didn’t dare to look up.
“Liz!”
You felt a hand on your arm and you winced and screamed, and jumped and cried. It was Javier. He was up-close, his face only a few inches away from yours. You turned around vehemently and saw the man on the concrete, his blood everywhere. His gun was fallen out of his hands, a few metres away from where he lay.
You crawled backwards, and Javier held you in his arms. You couldn’t take your eyes off the dead man on the concrete.
“Don’t look,” Javier said, and gently held onto your chin and turned your head away. You felt his hand shaking, and his eyes were full with fear.
You buried your face into his neck, and you felt his arms around you. You couldn’t breathe from the sobbing. You panted and cried, and he tried to caress your back, but it did nothing. You had never felt more scared your entire life. You were glued to him, and didn’t want to move. You were squeezing his shirt in your palm, dirtying it with your blood and tears.
“It’s all right,” you heard him whisper into your ears. He was holding you tight, and he was pressing soft kisses on your temple. “It’s okay.”
You felt him moving and you winced, holding onto him, too anxious to let go.
“It’s okay,” he said, and gently started to lift you as he stood up. “I’m just taking you away.”
He held you in his arms and carried you to an ambulance, which just arrived. He gently placed you on it’s floor, and turned back to look at all the others covering the body and going up to the flat to search it. You reached out and grabbed his hand, panicking.
“Don — don’t go!”
Your voice was barely audiable and it hurt as you spoke. Javier looked at your neck in fear, then tried with a smile and sat down next to you.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said and cupped your cheek as you leaned against him. You grabbed onto him tight, crying, while he was soothing your back. About twenty minutes later someone came to check on you, but Javier sent them away.
You were sitting there for almost an hour. During that time, they examined your house, took the bodies away, and filled a bunch of papers, one of which Javier signed as well.
“We have to ask for your statement,” said one of the policemen, coming over to you. By this time you mostly calmed down - at least the crying was over - but you didn’t want to speak. “Miss?”
“Later,” Javier said, annoyed. He only had to take one look at you. The man nodded hesitantly.
“We need to question her tomorrow the latest.”
“Fine.”
He left and Javier leaned closer to you.
“Do you need anything?”
You shook your head slightly, barely able to pay attention to what he was saying.
“No.”
Your throat hurt as you spoke. Javier gently touched your cheek and made you look at him.
“Maybe you should get some sleep.”
You nodded, your lips trembling.
“I don’t wanna stay here.”
“You won’t. You’re gonna stay at mine.”
The police were finishing up, cleaning up the place. Somebody slammed a door with a loud thud and it made you jump. You shivered.
“It’s okay… I’m here.”
Javier look deeply in your eyes for a second, and you found yourself a bit more relaxed. His gaze calmed you and made you feel safe. You never wanted to look at anything else.
“Can we go now?” you asked, your voice raspy. Javier nodded.
“Come.”
——
Once in his apartment, Javier couldn’t take off his eyes of the bathroom door, behind which you had been washing the blood off yourself for half an hour now. His leg was anxiously shaking. All he could feel was relief, but he couldn’t think of anything else, but today. The way you looked at him while that motherfucker was holding you made his insides boil with anger and fear. Whatever would happen in the future, he knew that he will never forget what happened today.
The bathroom door opened and he stood up, looking at you. You looked absolutely miserable. Your neck had purple markes from the hands of the man and your left cheek was swollen as well. On your temple a slight cut was visible, and on your hands bruises and scars marked the skin. But the worst parts were the eyes. Javier had never seen so much sadness and despair in anyone’s eyes.
“Would you like to… drink something?” he asked lowly, not sure what to offer to help you. “Or eat, maybe?”
You shook your head, avoiding his eyes.
“I just want to sleep. Can I… can I have the couch, please.”
Despite everything that had happened, Javier couldn’t help but smile, even if it only lasted for a second. You were so incredibly innocent.
“I’ve made the bed for you. Figured you’d like the privacy.”
“You?” you asked, obviously chewing your tongue. Javier shrugged.
“I’ll take the couch. You’re sure you’re not hungry?”
“Yeah,” you said, crossing the living room. “I’m sure.”
You closed the bedroom door behind you, and all of a sudden Javier felt incredibly alone. He looked at his watch; it was only eight in the evening. He sighed, and went to the kitchen to make himself a sandwich. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself. He wanted to comfort you. He was sure you were feeling miserable in there, but he didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. He wasn’t even sure if you’d talk to him. Since, the two of you had not really been talking lately.
After nine o’clock, he could not take it anymore. He took a quick shower, then opened the couch and made his bed, lying down with a restrained sigh. He wished he could sleep, he wished he could forget things for a few hours. But sleep didn’t come. He was tossing in bed, struggling with insomnia. He wondered if you could fall asleep, or if you were wide awake, too.
Around midnight he heard noises from your room. It only took him ten seconds to realize that you were sniffing. He was conflicted. Should he go to you, ask whether you needed some company? Or should he just leave you alone? Should he just pretend that he doesn’t hear your crying? He didn’t want to do that. But letting you suffer just made him feel miserable.
He was thinking for an hour, but when finally made up his mind to knock on your door, he realized that the crying stopped. His heart broke to the thought of you sobbing yourself to sleep. He wished he wasn’t such a fucking idiot. He wished he had the balls to make up his mind.
He was slightly asleep himself, when he heard the bedroom door opening. He didn’t move. If you only headed for the bathroom, he didn’t want you to know that he was listening. He heard your footsteps, but they were coming from close. He heard your breathing from next to his head.
“Javi?”
He sat up at once, not pretending anymore. In the dim moonlight he saw your face covered with tears. Your lips were trembling and you were looking at him so desperately, that he thought he was going to lose his mind.
“What is it, honey?”
“I don’t wanna be alone,” you whispered, and Javier heard your voice break. He reached for your hands and held onto them kindly, as if he was holding a flower.
“You don’t have to be.”
You sobbed and he moved aside. You climbed into the bed next to him, and he opened his arms to you. You snuggled as close as you could, and Javier carefully put his arms around you; one under your head, one over your back. He felt your hands grabbing onto his shirt.
“I’m here,” he whispered into your ear, before kissing your temple. “Sleep.”
Summary: As Liz’s life is suddenly in danger again, Javier desperately tries to keep her safe. However, when she gets her heart broken, things come to a miserable end.
Warnings: Swearing, blood, death (spoilers), angst
Word count: 2.6K
Javier Peña x Reader
Episodes
You were hurrying down the hallway but even before entering the main office space you saw that Javier’s and Steve’s desks were empty. You looked around nervously; a lot of familiar faces were missing.
“Trujillo!” you lit up when saw the man coming down the stairs. He raised his eyebrows, seeing you running towards him. “Hey. Do you know if Javier —”
“Not back yet,” he said, looking down at the documents in his hand. You frowned.
“How come you’re not out there with them?”
“Paperwork,” he said shortly. It was clear he didn’t want to waste his time with you. You bit your lips.
“Do you know when they’ll —”
“No. Sorry.”
He tried an apologetic look, but moved on right after. You looked around. Everyone seemed so calm and focused on their work. Were they not aware that something big and dangerous might be happening just in these minutes?
You sat down onto Javier’s chair and buried your face into your hands. Your skin was burning. You tried to think about something else… but the picture you had taken months before was floating around in your mind, not wanting to leave.
Javier had said somehing about a drug lab… You remembered all those busts and killings from the news… What if something happens… What if…
“Shut up…” you mumbled into your hands and sighed. Every time. Every damn time when Javier had to work, you felt like this. Why did you have to feel like this?! All this anxiety and worry. You hated it. And you hated him, for making you feel this way — even though he had no idea that he made you feel like this.
Time crawled like a snail; sitting at the table what felt like ages was only a minute. You counted the minutes, not looking up, and slowly, painfully slowly, time went by. Fifteen minutes. Thirty minutes. An hour. An hour and a half, then two. At noon you felt your stomach rumbling, but you were unable to eat anything. At one o’clock, Trujillo left you a glass of water on the table. You took it gratefully, drinking the whole glass with three gulps.
Around three in the afternoon you saw moving around the office, and it seemed like the number of people were increasing. You looked around, nervously standing up from the table.
“What’s happening?” you said to one of the agents. “Qué pasa?”
“Drug bust,” he said with an accent. “Twelve million dollars.”
“Twelve… What?”
You turned towards the hallway, leaving behind the agent. You started walking, picking up the pace. A lot of men came towards you, causally talking and laughing with each other. Someone behind you let out a loud laugh, which made you jump.
“Liz!” hearing your name made you turn around, looking for its source.
“Javier!” you finally saw him and all the anxiety left your body in a second. You ran to him and literally crashed against his chest. He hugged you back, and you let out a huge sigh. You leaned back, looking into his eyes. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I called you at home. You didn’t pick up.”
“I came in right after you called this morning. I couldn’t stay home.”
“Why am I not surprised,” he said, unconsciously caressing your cheek. Then, something in his eyes changed. “I need to talk to you. In here.” He opened the door to a sideroom, and you stepped in. He checked the hallway for anyone listening, then closed the door behind him.
“I know we’ve already talked about this… But you need to leave.”
He sounded so serious that it actually scared you.
“What are you talking about… Is this — Is this about the drug bust?”
“Seeing how fast news travel around here is one of the reasons why you need to leave.”
“Just tell me what happened,” you said, hoping that it’ll make him forget this whole ‘you need to leave’ nonsense.
Javier chewed on his tongue, then nodded.
“I told you before that the licence plate of the car was fake. Turns out, it was made by a fake company, which had three different headquarters stated under its name. Each had an address. We went out to check them, but they all lead to empty basements and houses in comunas. We didn’t find shit. We decided to head back, when one of the tracking teams spotted the blue car not far from us. It was standing in front of a garage, so we went in and found a whole fucking kitchen with tons of cocaine bricks waiting for shipment. We made a twelve million dollar bust.
“So… what does it mean?” you asked, your voice shaky. Javier clenched his jaw.
“It means we caused them one of the biggest losses they’ve ever had.”
I did, you thought, without taking any pride in it. Your insides were filled with fear.
“What does it mean… for me?”
Javier stepped closer, examining your face. He seemed utterly concerned.
“Please, Liz… I know you don’t want to —”
“You’re right, I don’t!” you said with a sharp tone. Then, you started panting. You looked at the man in front of you with pleading eyes. “Please… I just need you to tell me that I’m gonna be okay. No one really knows that the picture is from me, if you could just —”
“There’s no guarantee that —”
“Please, Javier. Please.”
You sounded so desperate, that Javier fell silent. His whole face softened. He reached out and gently took you into his arm, resting his chin on the top of your head.
“Why are you so stubborn?” he mumbled. “If something happens… I cannot let you get hurt.”
“I —”
“Why are you doing this?”
You didn’t answer. You didn’t know. All you knew was that you didn’t want to leave. You didn’t want to leave your job, your house, your friends… you didn’t want to leave him.
“I don’t want to start all over again,” you whispered, grabbing onto his arm. His skin under your palm made you feel incredibly hot.
When he spoke with his chin resting on your head, his voice resonated through your whole body.
“I promised to keep you safe. But the time will come — no, please, let me finish — the time will come, when I cannot help you anymore. When I am not enough, and you have to make a decision.”
“I don’t want to make that decision,” you said, feeling totally lost. You closed your eyes.
“Just think about it,” Javier said and reached for your face. He gently cupped your cheeks and made you look at him. “Please, Liz. Promise me that you think about it.”
You locked eyes with him, determined to say no, but you couldn’t. You saw how scared he was, maybe for the first time since you had known him. It was almost as if the mask, under which he was always covering his true emotions lifted up a little, and you could peak under it, even if only for a moment. He was worried, he was anxious, but you knew that he was angry as well… Angry at you, for being so foolish so unnecessarily, and putting your life at risk for nothing. And with a heavy heart, still looking into the eyes that looked like chocolate, you nodded.
“Okay… I’ll think about it. I promise.”
——
You felt like you were going to throw up. As the car moved across town, with every bump, with every turn you felt more and more sick. On the streets news haven’t spread yet. You could see it. There was no chaos, no news playing in the bars. It felt ridiculous.
Not in the police car. On the radio two men were talking, and you had been practicing your Spanish enough to understand what they were talking about. Your driver grabbed onto the mic and said something. One of the man on the police radio answered. You gulped nervously and closed your eyes.
Carillo had only died twenty minutes earlier you had to do your job. Evidence photographer. Fucking hell. You did not sign up for this. You did not want this. But circumstances made you the only available photographer in the moment, so you had no other choice.
As you got closer and closer to the scene, the quiet night life started to change. You saw ambulances and policecars parking on the street. To get through them, you had to show them your DEA badge. You fingers were trembling as you held up the small piece of plastic.
Your driver stopped the car and you thanked them, stretching the seconds for as long as you could. But the job had to be done. Feeling nauseous, you opened the door, and immediately stepped into something thick and sticky. You looked around on the dim-lit street and grimaced. The air was pungent. Dust, sewage, gun powder… and blood.
“Evidence photographer?” a guy appeared next to you and you nodded. “This way!”
He showed you the way, leading you through betweent two cars. You passed several policemen, but then you stopped.
“Oh, my God,” you whispered, seeing the red mess all over the concrete. Not far from where you were standing, you saw a pair of feet, two. “Oh, my God.”
It took all your effort not to throw up right there and then. You moved a bit to the left and took some pictures of a body. You didn’t want to see who it was. You stepped closer, while people were running around you, shouting things that you didn’t understand. You were on the verge of fainting.
You took another picture of someone, then looked away, desperate to see something other than blood and used bullets. As you turned, you saw two man in the distance, leaning against their car. You recognized them at once, and realization hit you like a brick.
You looked back, but no one was paying attention to you. Careful, not to look at any of the bodies, you crossed the road and hurried towards the two man.
“Javier!”
He raised his head. It took him a few seconds to recognize you, but during that time you already knew that he was not all right. His face was expressionless, his eyes cold. You slowed down and approached him carefully.
“Javier?”
Murphy only had to take one look at you and patted Javier on the back. You saw that he was not all right, either. He got up, nodded, and left without saying a word. You stepped closer to Javier. He was not looking at you. He pressed his lips together, as if deciding never to speak again.
“Javier…” your heart was breaking. You knew that he and Carillo had been really close. “Javier, I’m so sorry.”
He forced himself to look at you, but you had never seen him so distant. The usual warmth in his eyes - one of the things that made you fall for him - was gone.
“It was my intel.”
His voice was low and husky. You took a sharp breath.
“This isn’t your fault,” you said at once, knowing where this was going. “This —”
“Stop.”
He had never talked to you this way. It was like standing in front of a completely different person. He turned his head away, staring into the distance. You knew that he wanted to be alone. But you didn’t think that it was going to do any good for him.
“How about I see you later?” you gently grabbed his arm. He looked like he didn’t even hear you. “Javi?”
“Hm… Sure.”
You knew you he was somewhere else. You nodded and hesitantly took a few steps back. You wanted to help him, because seeing him like this just broke you. You wanted to make it easier for him. You wanted to be there for him.
But the job had to be done.
——
It was way past eleven in the evening when you finally left the office and got into your car. You were tired, you were exhausted and drained. You wanted to take a shower, you wanted to wash away all the things that you had just seen. You wanted to sleep. But you knew that you wouldn’t be able to. You knew that you were not the only one feeling like this tonight. You thought about Carillo’s wife and kids. You shivered.
Even though it was a pleasant evening, you were incredibly cold. You reached for the backseat and grabbed something leather-like. It was Javier’s coat.
Javier.
You looked at the silent and empty road ahead of you and the thought started to form in your mind. You really wanted to see him. You didn’t want to be a bother, though. But you had promised him to see him later. Maybe he was expecting you? You could only hope so. You grabbed the jacket, and only when you felt his essence on it did you decide to go to him.
Because you needed him, too.
You thanked the whole DEA for you bulletproof car. Crossing through town in the middle of the night made you anxious and paranoid. You felt eyes everywhere, you felt like someone was watching your every move. You squeezed the wheel tensely every time you had to stop at a red light.
You stopped the car in front of Javier’s house twenty minutes later. As you turned off the engine you looked at his windows. The light were on, but it wasn’t really bright. You could imagine him sitting in a half-lit room, drinking, alone. You swallowed nervously. You hoped that coming here was really a good idea.
You got out and opened the door. You passed the stairway to Murphy’s flat, and continued your way to Javier’s door. You stopped for a second, raising your hand but not knocking just yet. Was this really a good idea?
Before you could have decided, the door opened and you found yourself face to face to one of the prettiest women you had ever seen. You stepped back in surprise, lowering your hand. She looked at you with a start, but then waved kindly.
“Oh! Buenas noches.”
The hooker sent a friendly smile at you, then called back and said something in Spanish. Then, making her way around you, left for the exit. Her heels made a clanking sound every time she took a step. You followed her with your eyes until the door closed behind her and she disappeared on the street.
“Liz…?”
You turned back, and what you saw shattered your heart into million pieces. Javier was standing in the door, shirtless, a cigarette hanging from his mouth. You connected the woman with what was in front of you, and you had never felt more ashamed in your entire life.
“Well…” you said with a weak smile, tearing up. “I guess I’ll see you around.”
You turned away, but Javier called after you.
“Liz!” he sounded desperate. “Liz, come back, let me explain…”
“No,” you said, looking at him again. He looked like he was in misery. But this time, you didn’t care. “You know what, thank you for this. Now… at least I know.”
You felt so incredibly stupid. Javier reached out to you, but you pulled away.
“Liz, please!” he pleaded. You saw that he was hurt. Well, tough shit. You were hurt, too. You realized that you were still holding his jacket.
“Here. Take it.” You threw it at him and he caught it. “You look like you need it.”
“Liz…”
“I don’t care.”
“Lizzy…”
“I don’t care, Javier,” you said, your voice trembling as you said his name. “We’re not together. Actually, thank you, for this. Now I can go back to my life, and you can continue whatever the fuck you’ve been doing.”
He looked dumbfounded. Then he took a careful step towards you. His eyes were burning.
“Liz, come in. Let’s talk, let me…”
But you shook your head. You really had to force yourself not to cry just yet.
“Please. From now on… leave me alone.
You left him with that, and found with great pleasure that this time, he didn’t follow you.
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Summary: After some troubles at work, Javier finds comfort in your company.
Warnings: Mentions of death
Word count: 2.6K
Javier Peña x Reader
Episodes
The following weeks had been hard. Every day after leaving work, you saw mothers, wives and kids leaving the police station, and you knew that they visited so that they could recollect the belongings of their deads. Seeing them made you choke, and you couldn’t help it but turned away.
You had no idea what you were supposed to do. Violence scared you to death, but at the same time you had never felt more alive, more at home than being here. And, due to the steps taken in security measures, you were well taken care of. You met with agents every week, who listed your calls and reported anything out of ordinary - luckily there was nothing suspicious going around - and whenever your schedules let you, Javier and you spent a lot of time together.
But Javier was not always there.
He went and came, going on missions, searching for evidence, executing orders. You had been so worried since the attack on the police, that you made him call you every time he finished for the day. You knew it annoyed the shit out of him, but it made you calm. Or, let’s just say, it made you less worried, until the next mission came.
Today was no different. It was way into the evening, and you were sitting by the phone, not doing anything in particular. You were just waiting. In front of you there was a Spanish - English dictionary open at the word ‘camarero’ and you were imagining scenerios where you could use that word. Well, your Spanish teacher had told you to do it.
The phone’s voilent ringing cut through the silence and made you jump; all this time living here, and the phone still scared the living shit out of you. You cleared your throat and picked up, knocking over a water bottle with your anxious move.
“Yes?”
There was some shuffle at the other end, then a low voice started to speak.
“Hey… It’s… It’s me.”
“Hey!” you leaned closer as if it made you more understandable. “Are you okay? Is everyone fine?”
“Yeah.”
He sounded really somber. It made you worry.
“Javier, are you okay?”
“Can you… Can we meet for a drink?”
“Now?” you asked. It was starting to get late.
“…Please.”
He was so unusually quiet that you were scared now.
“Sure,” you said. “The bar in an hour?”
“Okay,” he said and hung up.
——
Javier was having his second drink and he already regretted calling you. He was holding onto his glass, trying to come up with excuses on how to call off the meeting with you, but the ideas just didn’t come. It was a weak moment of his when he had called you; he had changed his mind by now. He knew that you would come and ask him all these questions. He didn’t want to talk. He wanted to drink. But who was he kidding? He also wanted to see you. You just… made it all better.
“Another one,” he signaled to the bartender and he refilled his glass. “Thanks.”
“I hope that’s for me,” you said suddenly, appearing out of nowhere. You took his glass and took a sip from his whiskey. You squinted. “Agh, that’s horrible. Er — Una cerveza, por favor.”
Javier looked at you with raised eyebrows.
“Wow, what was that?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said innocently and drank from your beer. Javier nodded at your glass.
“Learing Spanish, I see.”
“Yeah.”
“I thought you don’t speak Spanish,” he said a bit teasingly. He got an eyeroll from you in return.
“Well, maybe that’s why I want to learn it.”
“Yeah?” he looked at you, thinking. “No other reason?”
“What is that supposed to mean?” you said with a weird expression. Almost as if you were caught doing something you shouldn’t be doing. Javier shrugged.
“Nothing.”
“Good. So what did you want to talk about?”
The alcohol in his mouth turned into acid as he forced it down. He wished you hadn’t brought it up. He wished you just wanted to talk to him about something else. Anything else.
He turned to you slowly and felt a flowery smell. It was you shampoo. He reached out slowly, gently taking a piece of your hair and tucking it behind your ear. Then, the alcohol made him cup you cheek. You seemed frozen in his hand. He wanted to kiss you so bad, it hurt.
“Can we talk about something else?” he whispered, begging you. You opened your mouth slightly, whispering back.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
He closed his eyes, his hand still on the side of your face. You knew you felt something, too; he had seen it many times when he looked into your eyes. In fact, he had seen it in many women’s eyes before. But this was different. You were different. He didn’t just want to hook up with you. He had no idea what he wanted, but it was something worth thinking about.
He opened his eyes and pulled away his hand. As soon as light came to him once again, sharing those very intimate thoughts with you seemed impossible and stupid. He was not the sharing type. He was —
“Please,” you interrupted his inner monologue. Your eyes were shining from all the life you had in you. “You called me here. I know there was a reason.”
“I don’t know…”
“Javier —”
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore!” he said a bit more tensely. Hearing his name from your mouth didn’t help him at all. “Stop it. It’s over.”
“I know you were out this evening,” you continued, not giving up. “Something happened?”
“I really don’t —”
“You said —”
“Liz —”
“Jav —”
“I saw a kid die today!” he said miserably. “And Carillo was the one who killed him. He killed a kid to make a fucking point. Are you happy now?”
He was panting and didn’t look at you. Instead, he was staring at his hands. They were shaking. There was silence at the table for a very long time, and he was sure that he hurt you with his outburst. He already regretted telling what had happened.
A warm feeling made him blink, and he saw your hand in his, gently, carefully holding on to it. The warmth started from his palm and went all the way up his arm, shoulder, chest. He was breathing a bit easier.
“I cannot imagine,” you started, speaking very softly. “But I know that what you’re all doing is more important than anything. Because if you don’t make an end to this, people will keep on dying. And I see how hard it is on you… But I just… I hope it’ll end soon and the people will be free from under his reign. And since it is up to you, I know that it’ll end soon.”
He didn’t know how to respond to that. He cleared his throat, squeezed your hand and drank. He had to shake his head to himself.
“Cariño.”
“Yeah, I looked that word up, actually,” you said, playfully scolding. “You’re still not getting away with this.”
Javier chuckled to himself darkly and looked at his empty glass. He needed a refill again. He saw that you were eyeing his glass, too.
“Let’s dance,” you said suddenly, nodding towards the low tunes coming from the radio. Javier frowned.
“I’m not the dancing type.”
“Then let’s go for a walk,” you said quickly. “It’ll clear your head.”
“I don’t do walks,” Javier said, shaking his head. He really needed a cigarette.
“It’s not about the walks,” you insisted. Javier looked at you impatiently.
“Now what’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that you reject the bare idea of someone helping you,” he saw that you started to get tense as well. He grimaced.
“How is a walk supposed to help me?”
“It’s not about the walk.”
“Then what?”
“Jesus Christ,” you said and took another sip from your beer. “Let’s just drink in silence, shall we?”
“Finally, an idea that gets my appreciation.
Javier knew you were being sarcastic. It looked good on you. He was searching for a packet of cigarettes in his pocket, when someone appeared next to your table.
“Liz? Hey!
He looked up. The voice belonged to a young, tall guy who was dressed in police uniform.
“Danilo?” you said with a smile. Javier felt your hand leaving his. “What are you doing here?”
“Just having a beer with the guys,” he signalled towards a table in the far back with five or six other policemen. Then, he looked at Javier with a way too nice expression. “Hey man. Peña, right? We’ve met before, haven’t we?”
“Barely,” grunted Javier. He accepted the offered hand, but shook it quickly, then retreated, lighting his cigarette.
“Anyway,” the guy was ignoring him again, now looking at you. “Monday is still on?”
“Sure —!” you started excitedly.
“Hmm, what’s on Monday?” Javier mumbled sarcastically, but luckily neither of you had heard him. Good. You would probably be furious at him.
“— I just hope it’ll worth it. There are a lot of new techniques out there, I’m not sure my…”
“Come on, Liz, your pictures are amazing. I’m sure they’ll see it, too.”
Of course, Javier remembered. You had told him about the art gallery thing where they would choose pictures of all talented photographers.
“Thanks,” you said, shooting a kind smile towards the guy. He looked at you with a gaze that made Javier bite down on his cigarette.
“Well, I’m gonna go then,” the guy nodded towards Javier. “See you later, Liz.”
You stood up and hugged him. Javier’s insides were boiling with jealousy.
“Bye, Danilo,” you said, sitting back . “See you on Monday.”
Fucking finally, the guy left and Javier exhaled the smoke angrily. You looked at him, raising an eyebrow.
“Can you stop smoking? You know I’m tryna quit.”
“Your pictures are good,” he said shortly.
“What?”
“I would’ve told you. If you had asked me. I think your pictures are good.”
“You haven’t even seen my pictures.”
“I have. When I went up to your flat a few months ago. They were on the table. You’ve got talent. Anyone who doesn’t see it is a fucking idiot.”
That seemed to shock you. Javier started thinking wether he had said something wrong. He was still bitter because of that guy of yours.
“Well… Thanks,” you said finally, with a surprised little smile.
“You know what,” Javier said suddenly and stood up from the table. “Let’s go for that walk.”
“What?” you said. “I still have half a glass of my — Javier!”
Javier took your glass and chugged the rest of your beer. Then he threw a bunch of pesos onto the table and held out his arm.
“Let’s go.”
——
You could feel from his walking that he was not drunk - oh no, it took a lot more to make Javier Peña drunk - but he wasn’t completely sober, either. He left the bar with you holding onto him, and when you made it out to the street, he looked around.
“Which way?”
“Well,” you said, pointing left. “I live that way. You can walk me home.”
“Home?” he said as you started walking. “The night is just starting.”
“Yeah, I was actually almost ready to sleep when you dragged me out of the house,” you said and he chuckled.
“Hm… Thanks for coming.”
He sounded so genuine that it made you stop and stare at him. In the dark you were barely able to make out his face, but you could still see him frowning.
“What?” he asked carefully.
You shook your head slowly. You had no idea what to answer. You were still holding onto his arm, and his face was really close to yours. He smelled so great. He was so tall. You shivered.
“Are you cold?” he murmured and moved away from you. He took off his leather jacket and placed it over your shoulders. His hands stayed on your neck and he looked into your eyes. You forgot how to breath.
“Thank you,” you whispered. Unconsciously, you stepped an inch closer to him. His hands were still gently holding the coat. You could feel the whiskey in the air between the two of you.
Suddenly a bunch of young teens burst out laughing on the other side of the street. It was like waking up from a dream. You realized that the street that felt silent was actually full of life. There were people all around you, chatting, laughing. You stepped back with an anxious feeling in your stomach, and Javier’s hands fell down to his side.
“I should walk you home,” he said, not looking into your eyes this time. You cleared your throat.
“I can… It’s all right, I can just call a taxi.”
“Yeah, let’s do that. But it’ll take me home, too.”
You nodded, and started walking with him again. You were embarrassingly careful not to touch his hand, even by accident, while walking. You only had to go for five minutes; you ended up in a busiest part of the city, and it was easy to find a free taxi there. You two did not talk during the entire way home.
You were staring out the window, determined not to look at Javier. You had no idea what was going on. No idea how you felt, either. You liked him a lot… to be honest, you liked him more than you were supposed to. And you loved being with him. He was smart, cunning and determined. But he was also intense, passionate and strong-willed. Half of the time you had no idea what he was thinking about. Half of the time you weren’t even sure if he’d like you the way you liked him.
The taxi pulled up in front of your house and you had to look at Javier to say goodbye. He had been staring out the window as well, but now he turned to you with such an intense look that you almost leaned over to kiss him. But the driver started coughing, the moment passed, and you found yourself opening the door of the car.
“Thank you for the coat. I’ll…”
“You’ll give it back later,” he said with a kind nod. You shot a restrained, shy smile at him before closing the door.
“Well… Good night.”
The car started moving, and a few seconds later it turned left at the intersection. He was gone. You searched for your keys and went up to your apartment, unable to figure out how were you feeling. Why didn’t you do something? At least you could’ve figured out if he felt the same as you.
But what if he wasn’t? Now you were glad that you didn’t make a move. It would all just be so awkward and embarrassing tomorrow. It was better this way. Yes. This was better.
But then why were you feeling so miserable?
You double-locked the door, closed the curtains, and realized that you were really hungry. You went to the kitchen and opened the fridge to make a sandwich. You ate slowly, barely tasting anything, getting lost deep in your thoughts. All you wanted to do was to sleep.
In the morning, the phone woke you up. You stumbled out of bed and answered it, massaging your eyes.
“Yea —ah?” you yawned.
“It’s me,” said Javier. He sounded tense. As he spoke, in the background you heard voices and running. “Liz, this just came in. They found the car on the picture, it’s connected to a drug lab…”
“What?” you said, suddenly wide awake. “How —”
“I don’t have time, we’re heading out. I’ll call you after.”
“Wh — Javier?!”
You called after him, but it was too late and he hung up. He was gone.
Summary: You’ve known Javier for a while now, but when lives are in danger, you realize that you might feel more for him than you have initially thought.
Warnings: Occasional swearing, blood
Word count: 1.7K
Javier Peña x Reader
Episodes
It had been a while since you became part of the DEA, and life was going flawlessly. With employement came certain rights; you were eligible to receive security measures on a higher level. The first week you had your windows changed to bulletproof ones, and you had your door fixed up with two other locks. You had gotten another phone that had a secure line to the DEA office, and you were able to have weekly visits from agents who made sure that everything was okay with you. But the biggest of them all was the new car - a seemingly ordinary vehicle, but with bulletproof windows and doors.
“Are you saisfied with what you got?” Javier had asked, when he came over to check the house for himself as well. You nodded with a small smile on your lips.
“Yeah, it’s… Thank you, Javier.”
He looked at you kindly and saw the seriousness in your eyes. He stepped closer and squeezed your shoulder in a friendly way. He smiled. He rarely smiled, but he had a really nice smile.
Unfortunately, even though you handed over the photograph to the DEA and received all these things in return, they had no luck catching either of those guys on the picture.
“The licence plate is fake,” said Javier a week after you had gotten employed. “They’ll try and look up any connection to it, but so far no luck. The picture might help the ID guys, though.”
He had been moody on that evening. They had suspended him and Murphy for following their own rules instead of the given orders, but you could understand. For Javier what mattered is doing good. Catching Escobar. The DEA was just the tool for that, the necessary step he had to take every time when driving for action. But sometimes it slowed him down.
Of course, he and Murphy got back, but peace was not an option. Escobar escaped his prison and the whole country went crazy. There were several, who kept on fighting against him, wholeheartedly and tirelessly, but there were still millions out there, who supported what he was doing. But with Carillo being called back from Spain, you knew that there was some hope.
Nevertheless, the whole situation had shown its effect on you. Working close to DEA agents had its ups and downs; you were glad for their help and continuous attention towards your safety. However, you also got a glimpse into what they had to deal with, and it frightened you. It was your job to develop their pictures sometimes, and you met several drug traffickers, hitmans, associates and dead bodies on negatives. You couldn’t help but anxiously wonder about the others’ safety.
“Don’t think about it way too much,” Javier said to you once you admitted why you had been acting so nervously. He was sitting on your desk while you were having lunch. “It’ll drive you crazy. Belive me, there are more things than you know of.”
“Well, that makes me calm and relaxed,” you said, pushing away your unfinished plate. Your stomach was in a knot.
“Hey,” Javier got a chair and sat down to be on the same level with you. “I’m serious.”
“I’m serious too. When I say I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”
He hesitated, but held out his hand towards you. You took it, casting down your eyes. The truth was, that yes, you were worried about everyone, naturally… But you were really worried for him. You had known him for four months now. You continously had been having lunches together, and sometimes you went out for a drink or two after work. You knew he was strong-willed and clever, determined and cunning… But you couldn’t help it. There was something that made you care for him more than anyone else.
“You worry too much, Liz,” he said gently, and it made you look up. He was really close, his eyes deeply looking into yours. You felt your heartbeat picking up the pace. You couldn’t blink with his gaze on you, and your eyes started to sting.
“I’m just saying,” you said after forcing yourself to look away and massaged your eyes. “I want you to be safe.”
“There’s no guarantee that’ll ever happen,” he said understandingly and shrugged. “We do our best. But if you have to choose between chasing a guy who’s getting away or running back to the car to get proper gear, there’s no agent who’d choose the latter. What matters at the end is if you got the guy or not. Wearing a vest is not gonna change that.”
Something clicked in you and you looked at him again. You were only hoping that you had heard him wrong.
“What?” you said with a sharp tone.
“What?” he asked, unsure of what you were referring to.
“Are you telling me….” you took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. “Are you telling me that you don’t always wear a vest?”
“Well, most of the times we do. But I’m saying if there’s an unexpected situation, no one will waste time —”
“Waste time?!” you exclaimed, surprising even yourself. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Javier looked taken aback. He shook his head as if trying to make sense of your sudden outburst.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with you?” you stood up letting go of his hand. Something came over you, and you were not bothering anymore to keep your voice low. “Why are you telling me this only now?”
He stood up too, though not as fiercly as you did.
“What do you want me to say, Liz?” His calmness infuriated you. “This is the job.”
“This is messed up —”
“We knew what we were signing up for,” he said and gently touched your shoulders. He caressed your arms, then suddenly cupped your cheeks which made you numb. He looked deeply into your eyes. “Don’t worry about it.”
“How can you tell me that?” you whispered, feeling his hands on you.
“Why do you care so much?” he asked with a half smile and you were frightened for a second. His eyes were longing for an answer, but you were not ready for that. Why did you care so much? You didn’t even want to admit that to yourself.
“You’re my friend,” you said as convincingly as you could. Technically, it was true. “And I don’t want to lose you.”
Something changed on his face. His gaze was burning yours. He smiled, but that smile was hiding something else that you couldn’t figure out.
“I’m your friend? That’s very kind of you, Liz.”
Before you could answer, there was a sudden echo of footsteps and Trujillo appeared at the door, panting.
“Peña! There was an ambush, all over the city. There are hundreds coming in. Half of them dead already!”
“What is he saying?” you looked at Javier, who looked absolutely shocked. “Javier?”
“Fuck!” he said and turned after Trujillo, who was already leaving. Then looked at you before following him. “Stay here.”
“Yeah, no way,” you said, running after him. Everyone in the office was going into one direction - outside. Javier was faster and got before the others, but as you stepped outside the crowd loosened up. And then you could see it.
There were people everywhere, and the level of chaos was rising. You looked to your right and there were two dead policemen on the ground. Next to them was an agent squatting down while talking in Spanish to a guy who was whining in pain. Someone rolled a stretcher over and they lifted the man together. In front of you, there was someone who was bleeding heavily from the stomach. Not far from him another dead body. On the left one man had his arm around another one, carrying him inside. You saw Murphy kneeling next to a young police officer, trying to put pressure on his wound. And there were fifty more, all shouting and screaming in pain and fear.
You stumbled down the stairs, unsure of what to do. You had no medical training and you were scared that you’d just make things worse. You saw Javier for a second as he was helping someone and your stomach clenched. You ran towards the closest man on the ground and helped him to sit up. You were extremely scared that he’d die in your hands.
Seven hours later you were at home, scrubbing the dried blood from your hands. The smell was making you sick. Eventually ambulances and paramedics had arrived and took over from the agents. Still, there were 30 deaths today.
You turned off the tap and dried your hands. Your fingernails were red. You chuckled, trying not to cry, then went to the living room and closed the curtains. Then, you double checked the front door. It was awfully quiet.
The phone rang and you jumped in fear. You ran to answer it.
“Yes?”
“Hey, it’s me,” came a familiar voice. Danilo sounded uneasy. “I’ve seen what happened today. Have you heard?”
“Yeah, I was… I was there,” you said, staring at the walls.
“I told you I wasn’t sure about you having this job,” he started. “Working in the middle of it, Liz…”
“Have you lost anyone?” you asked.
“No, thank God. They say it was an ambush but we weren’t there.”
“Good,” you nodded.
“Are you okay?” he sounded concerned. “Do you want me to come over?”
“No,” you said quickly. “I just wanna sleep. Thanks for calling.”
“Okay. Good night.”
“Bye.”
You put down the phone and wrapped a soft blanket around yourself. All of a sudden it felt really cold.
The phone rang again and you were sure that Danilo called you back. With a little impatience, you picked up.
“Yeah?”
“How are you?” Javier’s voice was different. Your mood changed straight away. You didn’t know how to answer him.
“How are you?” you asked him instead. Finding the words was hard for him as well.
“Well… you know.”
You nodded.
“Yeah.”
“Listen…” he started. He sounded extremely tired. “About today… thanks for… you know. Giving a shit.”
“About what?”
“…Me.”
You took a deep breath to calm down, but your voice broke.
“You said that there’s a standing bounty on any DEA down here…”
He didn’t answer. You knew he was waiting. You looked at your bloody fingernails and wiped your tears away while speaking.
“Please, Javier… just be careful.”
It was the longest silence you had ever heard from him. You knew he was still there because you heard him breathing… and you waited. After a minute, he cleared his throat and with the most caring, genuine voice he said:
Summary: As Liz starts working at the DEA she and Peña are getting to know each other a bit more.
Warnings: Occasional swearing
Word count: 2K
Javier Peña x Reader
Episodes
“And just a signiture there,” said the woman, pointing at the bottom of the page. You signed it. “And we’re done. Welcome to the DEA.”
You sighed and put down the pen. The last two weeks had been the most unusual period of your life. Peña had to arrange millions of things, had to talk to the right people and basically create a new title of work, that you could use on your papers. According to this, you were ‘Elizabeth Landon - DEA Associate, Evidence Photographer Assistant.’ Yes, it was a mouthful. The last of the paperworks lied in front of you on the table, from where a woman with grey hair collected them. She sent another smile towards you, then left.
“So?” a familiar voice came from behind you. “Everything all right?”
“Hey,” the tense feeling in your stomach loosened a bit. It was good to see someone you had actually met before.
Peña walked in and grabbed your brand new ID badge from the table.
“How does it feel?” he asked.
“I… have no idea. Really.” You looked at the badge. “I still have a part-time job at the magazine. I won’t be doing much around here. As far as I’m concerned, it’s just a piece of plastic.”
“A very valuable piece of plastic,” he sat on the table and looked up at you from there. “We filed the photograph. Thank you.”
You nodded and casted down your eyes. You knew you made the right decision. It was still frightening. Peña probably felt your mood change, because he stood up.
“Want me to show you around?”
You nodded thankfully.
“Sure!”
“Come on,” he indicated towards the door with his head, then followed you outside. “This way.”
You went through a wide hallway and ended up in a big room with a bunch of tables and agents talking or running around. Phone were ringing, printers were buzzing, and someone laughed loudly in the moment that you stepped in.
“All cramped up here,” Peña nodded and walked further in. “That’s Gonzáles, that’s Muñoz and Valencia. That’s my table and this - this handsome gentleman is Murphy. My second. Definitely under me in rank.”
“Fuck off, Peña,” said Murphy. He was buried in some paperwork. You chuckled and he looked up. “Oh, hey. Evidence Photographer, am I right?”
“Something like that,” you said. “Elizabeth Landon. Liz.”
You shook hands.
“I was just showing her around,” Peña said, looking over Murphy’s shoulder and checking out what he was doing. “We already have the riport of this.”
“Yeah, I’m just looking for something.”
“What?”
“Something we might haven’t noticed before.”
Peña looked over the papers himself. His face was in deep concentration and you started to understand, why was he chosen for the job he was doing. He nodded to himself, then patted Murphy on the back.
“Save a few pages for me as well. Come on, Landon. Over there.”
You were glad that you could continue the tour, because you didn’t want to be a burden while they were looking over staff.
“So, you’re starting tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” you said, following him on the corridor.
“Good. This is the darkroom, on the left. Unfortunately you’ll actually have to work sometimes,” he smirked to himself. Then the two of you turned right. “And this is your office. Well, not only yours, I guess.”
You stepped into the small room which was three size smaller than the one Peña, Murphy and all those other agents had. This one had only one window, and had three tables in it, of which two was already occupied. There was no one sitting at the tables at the moment, but they were packed with all kinds of papers and folders.
“Well, that’s it, basically,” Peña said, looking around, not exactly impressed. “I’m afraid I cannot show you the rest.”
“Out of my jurisdiction as Evidence Photographer Assistant?” you nodded with a grimace. “No, I get it. I mean, this is nice. If we just… throw away all this garbage, get new chair and tables, and hit an other whole in the wall as window, then I think that would really cheer up the place.”
Peña let out a small and short laugh. Then he looked at his watch.
“I’ll be heading out soon.”
“Oh…,” you said awkwardly. “Sure. Fine. Thank you for this.”
“Don’t mention it,” he said. “You know what, let’s mention it. You’ll owe me one, how ‘bout that?”
You smiled.
“I might be owing you much more than just one.”
“Yeah… we’ll see.”
The two of you stared at each other, not sure how to end the conversation. Finally Peña cleared his throat and turned halfway away awkwardly.
“Well… See you around.”
“Yeah. See you around.”
He waved and then left. You went to check out the only table in the office that didn’t have personal belongings on it, only garbage. You picked up some files and sneezing from the dust put them into one huge pile. This way you could at least put down your bag.
“Landon!”
You jumped and turned towards the door. Peña was back, hastily leaning against the doorframe.
“You wanna grab a drink later?”
“S…sure” you said, being a bit surprised, but didn’t mind the offer.
“Good.”
“What…What time?” you asked as he was already turning away. He turned back awkwardly.
“What?”
“What time?”
“Oh… Seven?”
“Okay.”
“All right. Meet you outside?”
“Sure.”
——
“No seriously, I swear that I cannot even look at a watermelon anymore,” he said and finished his drink with a restrained smile on his lips. “Not after that summer, anyway.”
You snorted.
“I don’t know if I should laugh or cry at that.”
“How about both?” he asked and raised his glass, signing for another round. “You’re good?”
“I could do with another one,” you nodded towards the bartender and he appeared with new drinks for the two of you.
The bar Peña took you to was a quiet one, with lots of small tables and an open area above which if you looked up, you could see the sky with its shiny stars. There were a few people around, but it wasn’t crowded. There was chatter in Spanish everywhere around you, and you were genuinely having a good time.
Peña was now looking up at the small television in the corner. In the news, they were showing a building in the distance, a building that you knew was the prison that was keeping Escobar locked away. You glanced at Peña; he finished his drink with a sudden move and ordered another one.
“Do you think you’ll get ‘im?” you asked him quietly. He looked at you, then back to the TV, then at his refilled drink. It took him a long time to answer.
“That motherfucker deserves to rot in prison for the rest of his life.”
“I…I’ve heard that the people still love him.”
He scoffed.
“They love him because he makes them love him. If he gives money to the poor, wouldn’t you stand next to him?”
“It doesn’t matter what he’s done? All those deaths… bombings… that plane and that reporter… why don’t people care about that?”
“They do. But when he appears with bags full of money, people tend to forget.”
He drank and you watched. You felt a horrible taste in your mouth.
“It’s a shame, because anyone could see that people love this country.”
“Yeah… Real shame he preaches about it while he’s the one destroying it.” He hesitated for a moment while he searched for money in his wallet. “There was this kid… Me and Murphy were trying to get one of Escobar’s hitmans. And I almost got him. I was this close. And then this… ten year old runs out of nowhere and holds a gun at my head.”
“What?” you said, your full attention on him. Peña had a bittersweet smile on his face.
“Of course he ran away. The hitman, too. We didn’t get shit. Before we got there, they killed a girl. She had a baby. Murphy has her now, with his wife.”
You realized that your mouth was open. Peña seemed to get lost in his own thoughts.
“There’s a standing bounty of 350 000 US dollars on any DEA down here. Not you, of course,” he smirked at you, but there was nothing happy about it. “Evidence photographer.”
“Assistant,” you said, to at least cheer him up a bit. He chuckled darkly.
“Assistant. Yeah.” Then he was back in his dark thoughts. “There’s a reason we worth that much. We’d do anything to stop him. Carillo… he’s the best soldier I’ve ever met.”
“I’ve seen him on TV,” you said, remembering a tall figure. “It’s good to have someone you trust. After what Danilo said… you know, my cop friend… I guess it cannot be easy to work in the system when the system is dirty.”
He turned to you and looked deeply in your eyes. Even though he had like five drinks in him, his sight was clear and determined, like always.
“You talk like someone who has seen a lot of shit.”
You chuckled.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t say that. And I’m not planning on seeing any kind of shit. I want a normal life.”
“That sounds… That sounds nice.”
He turned away and looked down at his hands, holding the glass. There was something on his face that made you think, and all of a sudden you realized that you felt sorry for him. His life was hunting for Escobar. He chose this; but it came with so many things that tied him down, that a normal life probably seemed impossible for him. Even if he didn’t necessary want it, it is always nice to have an option.
“I’m sorry I called you an asshole,” you said to him. He looked up.
“You’re not to first and not the last, sweetheart. Don’t worry about it.”
“And I don’t like it when you call me a sweetheart.” You raised your eyebrows, but you were not being rude about it. He smiled to himself, and you realized that you might just seen him smile for the first time. It looked… incredibly good on him.
“All right then,” he nodded ceremoniously. “Cariño”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you asked, pretending to be offended. He was taken aback.
“Don’t tell me you don’t speak Spanish. How did you survive down here is a mystery to me.”
“All right, fuck off,” you said and drank. He was still smiling.
“So why did you come here? Of all places where they speak English?”
“To be honest I just randomly chose a place in an advertisement calendar. It really didn’t matter where I’d go. Until it’s not home,” you added under your breath.
“Why?”
You looked up. He seemed genuinely interested. He wasn’t smiling anymore and you found yourself looking for words before you were able to answer.
“I just… I come from Seattle. I have a sister who’s a kindergarten teacher, I have a mom who’s a professor, I have a dad who’s a doctor… and I’m doing photography,” you tried to smile, but it felt more like a grimace. “I got tired of their nagging. My sister’s not so bad, but… jesus, my parents were just on about it forever. So I decided to leave. I saw a picture of Bogotá in a calendar. And… here I am,” you finished awkwardly.
“There’s nothing wrong with doing what you love.”
“Yeah, look where it got me,” you said darkly. Peña chuckled.
“It’s not so bad, Cariño”
“Oh, my God, are you going to try and teach me Spanish now?” you laughed and rolled your eyes.
“If you want me,” he shrugged and you drank.
“I’ve been trying, by the way,” you said, pointing a finger at him. You started to feel the alcohol. “And I want you to know this before you think I’m just some lousy idiot who expects everyone to speak English, just because she cannot learn another language. But I just haven’t got the time. Or the energy. Or the company to talk with.”
“What about your friend?” there was a certain way how he said the word friend. You shook your head.
“Danilo’s fine. A bit much sometimes. Asks me out weekly. I wish he would stop.”
“Why don’t you tell him to stop?”
“Well, that’s a good question, isn’t it?” you said melancholically and finished your drink.
Summary: Liz is undecided about helping the DEA, until Peña comes up with an offer that she cannot refuse
Warnings: Occasional swearing
Word count: 1.8K
Javier Peña x Reader
Episodes
“What are you doing here?” you looked at the man in surprise. You were just arriving home from another photoshoot.
“Finally,” Peña looked at you with the utmost impatience. He was standing at the door, his hand reaching for the doorbell. Now he took off his sunglasses, looking straight into the your eyes. “Where the hell were you?”
You raised an eyebrow.
“I have to work you know. For how long were you trying to get into my house?”
He cleared his throat awkwardly and squinted.
“Not long.”
“Uh-huh. So why are you here?”
“You didn’t give me your number.”
“Excuse me?”
“Your phone number,” Peña looked around the street as if checking the scene. “I had to come all the way to talk to you.”
“Oh,” you retreated. “Right.” Then you remembered. “Is this about your promise?”
He locked eyes with you and said:
“We really shouldn’t discuss this outside.”
He was way too serious and that made you uneasy. Did he manage to find a way to help you? You were chewing on your tongue, then nodded.
“All right. Come in.”
Once in your apartment, you dropped your bag onto the small table next to the TV and went to the kitchen to have a glass of water.
“Do you want anything?” you asked, rather to be polite than to please him. He was checking out your pictures on your table. He looked up.
“No. Let’s just get this over with.”
“Okay. So what is it?”
You walked over to him but you didn’t sit down and neither did he. All of it felt really formal. You took a sip from your water just to do something. Peña started to speak.
“The DEA doesn’t provide protection unless they get something in return. And it has to be valuable. A tip from someone is not enough.”
“What do you mean it’s not enough?” you asked suspiciously.
“We get tips from the street every day. It doesn’t worth shit. And they won’t let us go after the car, unless we can prove that it does worth the trouble.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“I’m sorry.”
He didn’t sound like he meant it.
“So… now what?” you asked, not sure what to do. “That’s it? You just won’t investigate?”
He stared at you, thinking. His face was unreadable, and you found yourself wishing that you could understand him.
“They won’t give us a team without evidence. We really need that picture.”
There was a certain tone in his voice that made you feel on edge.
“What if I give it to you?” you asked carefully. “What would happen then? Would the DEA care enough to keep me safe?”
“If you give us the picture, we can buy you a plane ticket straight home.”
“Home?”
“The U.S.”
Your mouth opened. Then, you frowned.
“This is home. I moved here to start over. I’m not leaving.”
“You won’t be safe if you stay here. Not if that picture leaks.”
“This is confidential information, who says it will…”
“We cannot guarantee your safety if you stay here.”
“Good. Then I burn the fucking picture and this whole nonsense will end.”
This was the first time you actually saw something different on his face than annoyance or boredom. He was alarmed.
“Do not do that.”
“Why? If I don’t give it to you, you won’t do anything. If I give it to you I’ll be in danger. There is no benefit in it for me. I should’ve just burn it the moment I realized what it was.”
“I thought you wanted to help,” he said quietly.
“Yeah, me too. But not if it costs me my life.”
You went to the TV stand and reached under the table cover. You held the picture in front of him and were ready to tear it apart.
“Don’t!” he jumped at once, holding out his hand towards you. His whole attitude changed and you could see at once how important that picture was to him. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”
“Now I believe that I’ll regret if I don’t do it,” you said and started tearing the picture. Peña raised his voice. He was panicking.
“Don’t! Let’s just talk about this! Landon!”
Hearing your name cleared your head a little. You felt a shortage of air. You wanted to do the right thing. You wanted to help. But you did not ask for this.
“Put down the picture, and let’s talk about this,” Peña was still reaching out to you, not taking his eyes off your face.
“I don’t wanna get involved in this…” you shook your head desperately. “I…”
The doorbell rang and both of you fell silent. You looked at Peña, unsure of what to do.
“Put that away!” he said and grabbed his gun. He leapt to the window and peaked out from behind the curtains. “Dark skin, black hair, green backpack. Do you know him?”
“Danilo!” you said and looked out as well. The man was waiting at the downstairs door, leaning against the fence. You looked at Peña.” He’s a friend of mine. I’d appreciate if you didn’t shoot him.”
He nodded and put the gun away, but was still eyeing Danilo. Then he turned to you and spoke quickly.
“I need to go, but I’ll call you later. Don’t do anything just yet.”
“Peña…”
“Please. Let me find an option that works for both of us.”
The desperation in his voice made you stop in mid sentence. You looked him in the eye. He had really nice eyes.
“Fine,” you said finally, giving in. You and your good heart…“Here’s my number.” You wrote down your phone number on a piece of paper and gave it to him. “Call me tonight. If you don’t call me, I’ll burn the fucking picture.”
“That would be a real shame sweetheart,” he said and put the paper in his pocket. Then he headed for the door. The doorbell rang again. “Don’t make your friend wait too long.”
——
“Who was that?” Danilo asked five minutes later after Peña left. You looked out the window into the direction where the man and his car disappeared.
“No one.”
“Really?”
You could hear jealousy in Danilo’s voice and you rolled your eyes. You really didn’t have the mental capacity for this.
“Yeah. Really. I just met him. He’s connected to the magazine.”
You weren’t sure wether he believed you or not; nevertheless, he didn’t ask more questions about him.
“Well, anyway. I told you I would ask around.”
“What?” you said dreamily. You were still staring outside the window.
“About the photograph.”
Realization came to you and you turned to face Danilo.
“You didn’t tell about it to everyone, right?”
“Only the people I trust.”
“Oh. Okay. And?”
“We all think it would be better for you to let it slide.”
“Let it slide?” you said, confused. “I don’t know about that. It seems kinda important to me.”
“Yeah, well. It can be dangerous as well. And I wouldn’t forgive myself if anything happened to you.”
You stared.
“Sometimes I feel like you’re a bit overprotective of me.”
“No shit.”
He sat down on your couch, leaned back and closed his eyes. You casted down your eyes and whispered.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“What do you want to do?”
“It’s… complicated.”
It was complicated. You wanted to help. The people in this country have been through so much pain. And you loved this country. If handing over the picture meant that you can help their cause in any way, you’d do it instantly. But you had also heard strories. You were afraid. Danilo sometimes talked about murders and shootings that happened all over the city. And if you had to choose between you and other people, you’d choose yourself.
It made you feel guilt and shame, though. You felt like a bad person. You didn’t want to be a bad person. But you were still afraid.
“You wanna go for a coffee?” Danilo offered. “Think about something else for a bit?”
“Sure,” you shrugged. “Why not.”
——
It was almost ten in the evening and Peña had still not called. You couldn’t go to sleep because of the nervousness, and you did not leave the vicinity of the phone even for a second. The afternoon with Danilo was at least good for one thing - getting your mind off of things. But as you got home, you had not been able to relax. And the phone call had still not arrived.
It was about ten thirty and you started to think about your options. If Peña was not willing to help you, then what were you supposed to do? Danilo had said not to share the picture. But Danilo had poor judgement when it came to you. You did not want to burn the picture, not for real. You wanted to help.
You wanted to help.
Fucking Peña.
You groaned and decided to rest your eyes for a second. The phone woke you up, at half past two.
“Yes?” you sounded drunk and ill.
“It’s Peña.”
“Oh…” you said smartly, then looked at the clock. “Do you realize what time is it?!”
“It took me a bit longer than expected,” he said. He didn’t sound tired at all. “But there might be a way that’s beneficial for everyone.”
“Yeah?” you said, starting to be more awake. “What is it?”
“Do you wanna work for the DEA?”
You remained silent for a second. Then spoke sharply.
“What?”
“Yeah. Evidence photographer.”
“Are you in serious need of an evidence photographer?”
“Not really.”
“Then?”
“You’d be handling the negatives. Nothing serious. It’s the title that counts.”
“Why?”
“As part of the DEA office, you’d have the right to claim and use protective services.”
“They… How many favours did you ask for this one?”
He didn’t answer.
“They won’t hire me.”
“They will,” he said.
“Is this a promise?”
He stayed silent. Then said, “yes.”
You nodded to yourself.
“Let… let me think about it. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Fine.”
“Give me your number.”
You wrote down his number and hang up. Your leg was shaking anxiously and you couldn’t stay still. You stood up and walked around the living room, thinking.
You loved your recent job. You didn’t want to give it up. But you wanted to help.
You also wanted to stay alive.
“But I wanna help,” you murmured.
But I also wanna stay alive, said a voice in your head.
What about Peña’s offer? It seemed so ridiculous. It was ridiculous.
But what if that was the only way to help?
You sat back down on the couch and reached for the phone, dialing the number he gave you. The paper was already wrinkled and soggy from your continuous folding.
“Peña,” said a sleepy voice. You felt a little bit of pleasure knowing that you gave him a taste of his own medicine.
“How bad do you want that picture?” you asked. There was a shuffling sound at his end, then he answered in the clearest voice you had ever heard over a phone.
“I want it more than anything. I want to go after that motherfucker in any way possible.”
“Okay,” you said and you gladly welcomed the determination in your voice.
Summary: Liz’s first encounter with a certain DEA Agent, but things do not exactly start out smoothly between the two of them.
Warnings: Occasional swearing
Word count: 1.5K
Javier Peña x Reader
Episodes
“So… What do we have here?”
You looked up at the man and instantly squeezed your bag tighter. He sat down, put his cigarette in an ashtray and leaned back in his chair. He seemed utterly annoyed to be here.
“Who are you?” you asked, determined to keep steadiness in your voice.
“The name’s Agent Peña. I’m DEA. You asked for an agent, am I correct?”
You silently nodded. He held his cigarette to his mouth.
“Then go ahead and tell us why you’re here sweetheart. I’m kinda busy.”
You frowned. You didn’t like how he called you sweetheart.
“Can you put out your cigarette first?” annoyance made you find your voice again. “I’m trying to quit.”
He chuckled darkly.
“Aren’t we all?”
“I’m serious.”
He examined your face for a second then shrugged and did as you asked. The smoke from the ashtray rose to the air and was hanging between the two of you. You let yourself have one long look at him. He was dark haired, olive skinned and had deep brown eyes. His nose was big, but it made his face look sharp and determined. Above a mouth, that was impatienly chewing his tongue, he had a mustache. You decided to get down to business.
“I have something. I really don’t know what to do with it.”
You reached inside the bag and got the envelope out. Peña was looking at it without the slightest interest. He lazily held out his hand to grab it, but you pulled back.
“Before I give it to you, can you promise me to guarantee my safety?”
He raised his eyebrows.
“Your safety?” he glanced at the envelope in suspicion. “Why? What do you have there?”
You swallowed and opened the envelop. You stared at the picture for a moment, then holding on to it tight, you turned it towards Peña.
His expression changed immediately. He hastily adjusted himself in the chair and leaned closer. His eyes were sharp, and he had his full attention on the photograph. He seemed shocked. He looked at you with restrained anticipation. He spoke in a very low voice, almost whispering.
“Where did you get this?”
“I’m a photographer,” you whispered back, feeling tense again.
“So what, you just happened to take a picture of a wanted hitman?”
“That’s exactly what happened.” You put the picture down to the table, turning it towards Peña. You pointed at the man you saw in the news. “That’s… That’s La Quica, right?”
He didn’t answer. His eyes were skanning every inch of the photograph; the blue car with the license plate, La Quica and the other man.
“Who is he?” you pointed at the other. Peña ignored the question.
“Did you show this to anyone else?”
You shook your head.
“I wanted to give it to the police.”
He stared.
“What stopped you?”
“I know someone there. He told me to be careful. A lot of policemen are dirty.”
He nodded to himself - maybe wasn’t even aware of doing it. Then he quickly turned the photograph and checked the glass walls behind his back.
“Put this away,” he said, and turned back to you. “This picture can cause you a great deal of trouble.”
“I figured,” you said, sealing the envelope. “This is why I wanted to talk to someone from the DEA. Did you memorize the licence plate?”
He scowled. “Why?”
You frowned. Wasn’t it obvous?
“Well, I’m not going to give you the picture.”
He raised his head and pointed at the envelope.
“Hold on a second. This is serious lead to…”
“You just said it can cause me a great deal of trouble!” You tried to keep your voice down, but you were nervous. “I’m willing to help, but I’m not risking my life for your cause.”
“Our cause?” he looked as if the word left a bad taste in his mouth. You tried to sit straight.
“So, can you provide some kind of protection for me?”
“Protection?” he looked surprised. “If you’re not givin us the picture, then what for?”
“I just showed you a car probably full of drugs and two people connected to Pablo Escobar,” it was outrageous. Why didn’t he understand?! “Don’t you think I should be concerned?”
He squinted his eyes.
“What was your name again?”
“Elizabeth Landon,” you said impatiently. Peña leaned closer and started talking fast.
“Listen here Elizabeth Landon. I’m not saying that I cannot help you, but it will be a lot more difficult to get your protection if I don’t have anything to show to the Ambassador.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, that without the picture there is no reason for the DEA to help you.”
“But you saw the picture!”
“And I’m just only one man,” he shook head said slightly, still looking deeply in your eyes. “If you don’t feel safe, don’t give us the picture. Without it, I can say that I have a tip from a local about a car that transfers narcotics around the city to smaller dealers. I have the plate number. We can work with that.”
“But?”
“But… it would give a lot more ground to the cases of these two. It’s perfect evidence. If we find the car, it’ll worth even more.”
“I don’t want to get in trouble for this.”
Suddenly, you felt really scared. You knew he saw it, too. His hand moved in a certain way that you thought he will hold onto your arm. But then he stopped and retreated.
“I’ll try and put in a few words. Maybe we can find a way to provide protection for the intel.”
You didn’t take your eyes off him. He seemed honest, but how could you be sure? Was it all a mistake? Coming here?
“Why didn’t just mail it to us?” he asked suddenly.
“I’m a photographer. I shot this during work. A local magazine I work for will include my name and my other pictures with date. If this photograph leaks… Do you think I’m in danger?”
The question came out in a shaky voice, in which you barely recognized your own. Peña stared, then silently took the sealed envelope and held it towards you. You took it.
“I’ll ask around tomorrow. Maybe we can help you for the tip alone.”
You nodded. Your throat was dry.
“Can I have a glass of water, please?”
He stood up and walked out the room, where a water tank stood at the wall. He poured you a glass and returned.
“Anything else?”
“Yes,” you said suddenly. “Can you… Can you take me home?”
That took him by surprise. You stood up, zipping your bag.
“My car is towed away. And it’s already dark outside.”
He glanced through the glass into the hallway. There was no one there.
“How far?”
“It’s not far,” you said. Then quickly added, “Please.”
——
“You said it was not far.”
“Well, I didn’t calculate traffic.”
“Well, you should have. I’m not a taxi service.”
You two had been sitting in the middle of a traffic jam for twenty minutes. Peña seemed annoyed, and that made you unfomfortable. It was incredibly awkward. Now you regretted that you had asked him to take you. You would be home by now for sure.
“We’re not far, I can just walk now,” you said, determined to get out of this embarrassing car ride. Peña grunted.
“No fucking way. I’ve taken you this far. I don’t need you walking around in the dark streets of Bogotá.”
“How thoughtful of you,” you mumbled, rolling your eyes.
“Yeah. I don’t want that picture to get lost.”
You looked at him in dismay. Even in the dull light of the evening traffic, you could see a sarcastic little smile on his face. Like it was just a joke to him.
“You’re an asshole,” you burst out. His smile faded and he turned to you, his face expressionless. Silent. Serious.
The line of cars moved and someone from behind honked. Peña turned his attention back to the road and you turned away from him for the rest of the journey. You two were sitting in complete silence, and you were staring outside, seeing young people with friends, elders walking their dogs, moms pushing their strollers. You closed your eyes. You couldn’t believe that the last thirty six hours really happened. It was surreal.
“It’s me,” you said finally ten minutes later, and Peña stopped in front of a house with white walls. He was still silent and did not look at you. It made you angry. You had every right to be offended. Not him. You stepped out of the car without saying a word to him. Then, when you almost closed the door, you looked back. “You said you’ll ask around tomorrow about my protection. I really hope that you keep your promise.”
He turned to you, ready to say something, but you shot the door. Now, being out of that gloomy office, his promise seemed vague and quickly made. It filled you with guilty pleasure that you didn’t give the photograph to him.
You found your keys and stepped inside. You only heard his car leave, when you closed the door behind you.
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Summary: When Liz gets a hold of some serious evidence against the infamous druglord, she is afraid and doesn’t know what to do. Will there be anyone, who will be able to help her?
Warnings: Occasional swearing
Word count: 2.7K
Javier Peña x Reader
Episodes
“Shit!” you said as you looked at the clock and realized that you were already late. “Fuck!”
You ran to the bathroom and brushed your teeth with incredible speed. You grabbed your bag, shoved a sandwich and a bottle of water in it, then you searched for a new pair of pants while hastily combing your hair with your shaky fingers. God, you could have killed for a cigarette.
Ignoring the mess in the living room and leaving behind an agressively ringing telephone, you ran out of the house, down the stairs and out to the street. Just then did you remember that your car had been towed away the night before. You grunted in frustration, then started running to the bus stop, checking your watch in every second. You turned right at the corner and made it just in time to be able to catch your breath before stepping on to the arriving vehicle.
Mondays were not your favourite, let’s just put it that way. You had been out the night before, saying - and drinking - goodbye to your sister, visiting from home. You looked up at the sky as though you could see her plane leaving for Seattle. You already missed her. All of a sudden you felt miserably alone.
There was no time to drown yourself in self-pity; you had to hurry to catch the next bus at the intersection of the mall. Trying to ignore your hammering headache, you found a seat and leaned against the window, resting your temple on the cool glass.
“Buenos dias,” you said twenty minutes later, arriving at the park. “Sorry, the bus was late.”
“They are ready for you,” said the director with a heavy accent, pointing at the two women in summer clothing, surrounded by the crew and their artificial lights. You nodded and stepped to the fountain, grabbing your camera from your bag.
Being a photographer was the best decision you had made in your life, and coming to Colombia was the second best. You loved your job and loved the country that you were able to work in. The culture, the people, the food and basically everything just drew you to itself, and you happily let it take you away. Sarah - your sister - didn’t understand. She said you’d have hundreds of places in the U.S. where you could work as a photographer. She said living here was dangerous, especially with everything that was going on all over the country. But you didn’t care. You loved it. You had only been here for a year and a half, but you felt like you never wanted to leave. Not without a good reason, anyway.
You were working in deep concentration, taking a break every now and then to wait for the models to change outfits. Now, as it was close to noon, more and more people started to gather around, just watching what you were doing, or sitting down onto benches, enjoying the sunlight. Children were playing, dogs were barking and you just couldn’t feel happier in that moment.
While the crew made some tidying touches on the models’ make up, you lifted your camera again and started taking pictures of the liveliness. You took a picture of the fountain with some birds drinking from its water, then turned around and took a quick shot of two kids playing swordfight with some sticks. You laughed to yourself and kept taking pictures; an old couple walking hand in hand, two men next to a car shaking hands, a dog sniffing something on the ground then running away, and a bald guy with kind smile handing out ice cream from a foodtruck.
“Take a break Liz, or you’ll exhaust yourself with all that work.”
Hearing the familiar voice, you turned around with a small smile on your lips.
“Danilo!” you laughed at the man. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”
“I’m not on duty today. I thought I’d take a walk,” he said, and pointed at the camera. “Anything good?”
“Just the usual,” you answered and nodded towards the models, who were almost ready. Danilo took one short look at them and snorted.
“Not the ideal beauty if you ask me.”
You raised and eyebrow.
“Why, what’s the ideal beauty for you?”
As soon as you asked the question, you regretted it. You had met Danilo the day you moved to Bogotá, and it was clear from the first moment that he fancied you. There had been some misunderstanding with your papers, so you had gone to the police station to clear up the case. That’s were you had seen each other for the first time. He had been working there for a time now, and since that day he asked you out several times. It always ended with you saying no. You didn’t know what it was, but you didn’t feel the same way towards him. You liked him, but not romantically. He was a nice friend.
“I’m just saying…” he continued, half jokingly, “…that I know a very nice restaurant around the corner. Maybe we could —”
“I’m sorry,” you said, casting down your eyes. “But I…”
“Don’t have the time?” he guessed. You could see that he was disappointed. You nodded, this time looking into his eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
He locked eyes with you for a moment, then something changed on his face and he was smiling again.
“Well, I guess I just have to wait for my time.”
You swallowed. You knew his time would never come. And you had told him that several times before.
“Yeah… Listen, I’ve got to go back to work,” you said, heading towards the returning models. “See you around, okay?”
Danilo nodded. He squeezed your shoulder, then waved goodbye with a smile.
“See you around, Liz.”
Then he left, his hands in his pockets.
——
At home you went over the negatives first, holding them in front of the window. Then, you put them in a little container and walked to a nearby shop to have them developed. You always liked to see the pictures before sending them in to the magazine; it just gave you certainty that you had done a great job.
After getting back to the house, you talked with Sarah on the phone, then tidied up the house a little bit before making some dinner. Then, you just sat on the couch and ate undercooked pasta while watching some soap opera on the TV. It was in Spanish, naturally. You groaned to yourself. All these months that you had spent here and you still didn’t learn Spanish. You knew basic words, but you just simply didn’t have the time to put more effort into it. You felt ashamed and switched the channel.
It was the evening news, and they were talking about a plane crash that happened not a long time ago. You sat in quiet, glued to the screen. They showed footage; the iron pieces of a plane. Clothes lying on the ground. Bodies. You couldn’t blink. The reporter was saying something else. You could only understand one thing of what she was saying: Pablo Escobar.
Then, the footage changed and two man was talking in a studio. At once, a mugshot-like picture of a young man appeared on the screen, with a text and an amount of money printed under his name. You didn’t need a translation to know that he was associated with the crimes happening in the country. He also seemed oddly familiar to you.
You turned off the TV and tried to get some sleep. Tomorrow you would get the photos and send the really nice ones to your boss. You yawned. You could only hope that he’d like them. Maybe then you’d be able to get a raise and buy a new couch. The old one was a bit lumpy…
You slept and dreamed about planes and models.
——
When you woke up in the morning, you were more tired than ever. You hadn’t slept well, and you couldn’t forget that man in the news, who was so familiar to you. You didn’t know how, and there was a chance that you didn’t even want to know. You just wanted to forget his face and live on.
After lunch you went to get the photographs and the negatives, then getting some snacks and turning on the TV again for some background noise, you started looking over your yesterday’s work. It was pretty good… well, it was actually great. You liked the colors and the background, and you liked the style of the dresses the women wore. After putting the best ones separately and sealing the envelope, you turned to the TV only to see the that mistery man again. You frowned and reached for the remote to turn it off, but something stopped you. They were showing now pictures of hundreds of white packages. Pure cocaine. Then they were showing a map, a certain area marked with red. You recognized the area as the park from yesterday. Then, they showed the same young man as yesterday.
Something hit you and you felt electricity coursing through your body. You jumped back to the table, hastily shuffling the remaining pictures around. Yes! You found it. It was a picture of the two men that you shot yesterday, while randomly taking pictures of your surroundings before Danilo showed up. They were there; two men, standing next to a blue car. The licence plate of the car was perfectly captured, and only now did you relize that what you had thought to be a handshake between the two men carried some deeper meaning. Their face was visible - one of them was the man shown in the news. He was the one that they were looking for.
Sitting in fearful silence, your whole apartment felt uneasy. What should you do? You didn’t know much about policework, but you knew that you have something very valuable in your hands. You quickly turned the picture facing down as if someone could see it from the street outside. You swallowed nervously. What should you do?
——
“I’m here to see Danilo López,” you said to the receptionist at the police station and hoped that you would be able to get things over with quickly. Your hand was shaking nervously and you were craving for cigarettes.
“Liz! What are you doing here?” Danilo’s face darkened as he saw your anxious expression. “Is everything okay?”
“I… I need to talk to you,” you said, quickly glancing around. “Can I talk to you?”
“Of course,” he nodded and luckily didn’t ask any more questions until he stepped into a small room with only one table. “So, what’s happening?”
“This,” you said and took a carefully wrapped envelope from your bag and handed it to him. He opened it and took a look at the picture. For a moment he stared at it, then frowned.
“What am I seeing, exactly?” he asked, eyebrows raised.
“Them. I saw them in the news. I mean, him,” you pointed at the man on the right. “And I’m sure he is the one that they’re looking for.”
“What makes you so certain?” he asked. It made you nervous, him not understanding what you just discovered. You gave out a shaky chuckle.
“Look at him! His face was all over the news. They showed pictures of cocaine and were talking about Escobar!” You fidgeted with the strap of your bag, then continued. “I think this is serious evidence. I think this other man should be investigated.”
You tried to sound determined, but you knew that Danilo could read the nervousness in your voice. He nodded.
“I agree. But why did you bring this to me? Why didn’t you show this to a captain?”
You stared at him, then glanced towards the doorway. You whispered.
“You said once that there are a lot of dirty cops.”
He stared back and you had no idea what was on his mind. Then, his face softened.
“You did right. Hey, Liz…” he gently grabbed your shoulder and made you turn to him again. “You did great. Don’t be afraid. I’ll make sure… I’ll make sure to get this to the right people.”
He looked at the picture again, but you were too scared to let it go out of your hands. You took it back with a sudden move, crinkling it a little in the middle.
“How about I’ll keep it safe? Just… Just until you’ll know exactly what to do with it.”
Danilo looked at you with some sort of caring in his eyes. He was thinking for a long time, then finally nodded.
“That’s also fine with me. But be careful. Don’t show this to anyone else, do you understand? No one.”
“Okay. I won’t.”
“Good,” he said, then took your arm and gently guided you towards the hallway. “I can come over tomorrow if you’d like. I might figure out something by then.”
“Sure,” you answered, but your stomach was in a knot. “Thanks, Danilo.”
“Anytime,” he said, squeezing your shoulder before letting you go.
You left the police station with great relief. When inside, you couldn’t shake the feeling that all eyes were on you. You didn’t like it. Outside was a bit better. You gently touched your bag, making sure that the envelope with the picture was there, then started walking on the street. You didn’t want to go home just yet; you wanted to walk off this tension in your body. And mostly, you wanted to think.
You liked Danilo and he was a good cop, but letting the picture out of your hands was out of the question. You had stached the negatives at home, hiding them under the cupboard in the living room, just in case. You were scared, and intimitated by the amount of power you suddenly had by this tiny photograph.
You were scared to use it. You knew how many were fighting against druglords and smugglers. And you knew that the fight against Escobar was still heavy. You were scared of what that picture might do to you. But you also felt shame when considered doing nothing with it.
And suddenly, you knew exactly what you needed to do.
——
Javier was not having a good day. Ever since the Avianca plane was bombed, the morale of the DEA was in serious decline. Gaviria was in constant danger, fires and vandalism was the daily routine of the country, and now the kidnapping of Colombia’s most famous reporter was the news that everyone was talking about. Javier took one long look at the board filled with names and pictures of Escobar’s suspected associates, then sighed to himself and closed his eyes for a moment. He was in serious need of some sleep. Or some alcohol.
There was a knock on the door and he looked up, the sudden brightness of the vibrant lightbulbs huring his eyes. There was a young man, Acosta standing there, peaking in the room.
“Agent Peña! There’s someone here for you,” he said in Spanish and Javier groaned.
“For me? Who is it?”
Acosta shook his head.
“She said she wants to talk to an agent. She won’t say why. She’s American.”
“Send Murphy.”
“Agent Murphy’s already left, sir.”
That son of a bitch.
“Where is she?”
“Delirio.”
Javier closed his eyes again and massaged the throbbing point in his temple.
“Fine. I’ll be right there.”
Acosta left and Javier was left alone with his board. He did not want to talk to any American. He was not interested in anything other than putting a bullet into each of the heads of the men on the board.
He stood up, grabbed his packet of cigarettes, then stepped out to the hallway. He headed for a tiny room which was kept up for especially cases like this. At the DEA they called it la oficina de delirio. The office of delusion. The name had stuck, because most of the time they would question people there who came in from the streets, claiming to have important information, then proceeding to tell a gossip that was the biggest bullshit the DEA had ever heard.
Javier stopped in front of the office and glanced through the window while placing a cigarette in his mouth. She was a nervous looking young woman, maybe in her late twenties. She was holding on to a small bag, squeezing it while staring at the table she was sitting at. Her right leg was shaking. Javier inhaled the smoke and stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
“So…” he started out in English, locking eyes with the woman. “What do we have here?”
Summary: The final chapter of your life where you return to your beloved castle, with all the people that matter
Warning: None, Fluff
Word count: 2.3K
George Weasley x Reader // Fred Weasley x Reader (platonic)
Masterlist
It had been getting harder and harder to climb the stairs now, but today was extremely difficult. You felt tired, you felt as though you were out of breath and that you needed to sit down to have your well-deserved rest. On your way up to the bedroom you passed many pictures hanging on the wall; your dear Fred’s wedding pictures, then Roxanne playing with one of your grandchildren under a Christmas tree. You gave a faint, tired smile. They were such good memories.
It seemed really cold once you reached the upper floor. You made your way slowly to the bedroom, opening the door slowly. It was hard to turn the handle; your hand was aching all the time, and you also needed a breather after those many stairs. You stopped for a second, searching for a wand in your pocket, but you had to come to a tired realisation that you had forgotten it downstairs again. Yes, now you remembered; it was probably lying on the kitchen table. A raspy sigh left your lungs — you simply did not have the strength to climb the stairs again, only to get that wicked wand.
There was no other way, you had to reach the bed in total darkness. Luckily, you knew the room by heart, since living in this house for over fifty years now. You walked carefully, passing the old cabinet in which you still had one of those old Christmas jumpers hanging, its color faded, its material stretched out. You passed the mirror in which you always checked your outfit for the day when hurrying off to the Ministry each morning. Finally, you walked passed the bedside table, on which stood one single photograph, of you and your late George; a moving picture that was taken on his forty fifth birthday. You remembered that day clear as day, having Albus and Teddy setting up a huge tent where all the family could celebrate together.
You were glad it was dark in the room, however. As much as you loved your husband, it had been hard sometimes. You missed him with all your heart, and seeing pictures of when you were younger just made the pain sharpen inside. It had been three years, and remembering only a few times was better, than being tortured by his memory throughout the days. It was a bit sad. But it was better this way.
You sat on the bed with a huge sigh of relief. Your legs were hurting, your back was in pain, and your head felt like it was about to explode. You lay down, and as soon as your head touched the pillow, it became all better. You closed your eyes, sighing again. You wondered if you had closed the front door… well, you certainly would not go down to check it now. Anyway, if Victoire was right, the charms that James had casted on the entrance was keeping every kind of harm away.
By that thought, you relaxed a little, your breathing slowing down. You were thinking about next weekend, when the little ones had promised to visit their nana. Sweet little things. You loved them, all of them. You were ashamed to admit it, but there were times, when you simply forgot their names. You couldn’t help it. There were so many of them, running around in the house, it was hard to remember sometimes.
The cool air of the room made you shiver, so you pulled the covers up. Within seconds it was all cozy, and you felt like a biscuit, warmy being baked in the oven. You chuckled to that thought. Maybe, if you have the strength, you’ll bake something for when the children come. But at the same time, as your breathing was getting slower and slower, a strange feeling came over you, and suddenly you knew, with great certainty, that you were never going to cook anymore.
You fell asleep.
You opened your eyes. It was brighter then before and you had to blink a few times before you were able to focus on anything, really. You were lying on your back, so there must have been a floor under you. You felt it, but somehow you didn’t feel it. It was a strange feeling.
It was also not cold anymore. It was neither warm nor cold, to be exact. The temperature was absolutely perfect, so perfect that the thought of it soon left your mind. It was not important anymore. A moment later you didn’t even remember what you had been thinking about.
You took a deep breath. It felt nice, it felt an easy thing to do. There was no rasping, no muffled breathing anymore. It was unusual, but you were certainly glad for it. Now that you came to think of it… everything was so… comfortable. Your back was not hurting, your legs were not in pain anymore. You were feeling… well.
You suddenly felt your hands touching your stomach, resting. You looked down, and realised that you were naked. Then, the next thing you realised was how healthy you looked. Your skin had a nice, warm tone, and it wasn’t as loose as you remembered it to be. You were also missing several scars that you had acquired over the decades. You blinked. You didn’t know what was going on. You wished you could see yourself.
As soon as the thought occured to you, a mirror appeared out of nowhere. You hesitated, then stood up — which was surprisingly easy — and walked towards the mirror. You wanted to see your whole body, and the mirror somehow new, for it had started growing and now it was as big as a door. You met your reflection, and you let out a surprised gasp.
It was you. But not as you knew yourself now, no… But as you had been, several, several years ago. Your skin lovely, your hair not gray anymore, and your face… your face was young and beautiful. As you started examining your body, something appeared next to you, a few metres to the left. It was a train, but not just any kind of train. It was the Hogwarts Express.
And suddenly, you knew.
From then on, there was no question about it. You wanted to board immediately. All of a sudden you felt awkward for being naked. In a second, freshly washed clothes appeared at your feet. You wanted to waste no time. You got dressed, took one last look in the mirror, then ran to the train and hopped on it. It started moving, first slowly, then faster and faster until it was going at full speed.
You felt too excited and nervous to sit down, so you were standing during the whole journey. You were looking out the window, seeing houses, forests and meadows passing by. Once you saw a beautiful lake with a frozen surface, but the train was moving too fast for you to actually examine everything properly. And then, when you were seriously wondering about the destination, the train started slowing down, then stopped at what seemed like a train station of a small village. The door opened, and you climbed down with your heart beating in your throat.
As your feet touched the ground, more and more houses seemed to take shape in front of you. They seemed so familiar, still, they were still dream-like. There was a pub, a bookshop, and a small café nearby. On the left, they sold cloaks, ice-cream and newspaper. However, there were no people around. You only saw one person, a tall figure, you was standing a few metres from you. He seemed really familar.
“Georgie?”
Your heart was pounding really fast as you started walking. You would have given anything to see your George again. But something was off. Even though the man had ginger hair, his expression was something of a kind as a mischievous smile appeared on his face.
“Let’s try that one more time, sweetheart.”
You stopped, frozen in shock. This couldn’t be. This wasn’t happening. No. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real.
“N… No,” you whispered.
“Yes,” came the cheeky answer.
“No,” you said again. He laughed.
“Yes.”
“But… you’re…” you shook your head in despair. His smile disappeared. His eyes were filled with tears.
“It’s so good to see you again, Y/N.”
You covered your mouth to muffle your sobs, but it was not doing very much. Finally, you gave up alltogether, and closed the distance between the two of you and hugged him, sobbing uncontrollably. He was sniffling as well, gently stroing you back with his warm hands. Warm. He was warm. A sudden flash of a certain night came to your mind, but you erased it immediately. That was not important anymore. He was here. He was with you again.
You stepped back, wiping off your teary cheeks, looking at him again. You tried to calm down, but you were still chuckling occasionally as you started to speak.
“I missed you — so much.”
“I know.”
“You know?” you whined.
“I missed you, too,” he ignored your question but let out a small laugh — a sound which suddenly felt so familiar, even though it had been over sixty years. Fred leaned closer and gave a soft kiss on your forehead. “I missed you so terribly. I was also wondering when I would see you. Been a lot easier since George have arrived, though.”
“George?” you jerked your head up. “George is here as well?”
“Of course,” he said in a matter of fact tone. “Everyone is.”
“Can we —”
“Meet them?” he said, his eyes sparkling. “We’re gonna meet someone first.”
“But —”
“Everything in its own time,” he said mysteriously. “First, we’re going up.”
“Up?” you said, confused. He rolled his eyes.
“Turn around, woman.”
You did. And your jaw dropped. There was the road, leading through some trees, through a gate and up till the entrance of the castle. The Hogwarts castle.
“Why are we here?” you whispered. Fred smiled.
“Well, I guess this place is part of everyone’s heart. At least a bit.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” you said, still confused.
“You’ll understand.”
“When?”
“Over time. Now, come on.”
He gently pulled you with him and you started walking towards the entrance of the castle. Every piece of grass, every leaf, every tree was like a friendly wave from the past. Your past. It all seemed so magical and you felt like a first-year student, experiencing this for the first time in their lives. The only difference was, that you already knew this place. And you felt like in a dream. Every now and then you glanced at Fred, making sure he was still there with you. When you did that, he smiled and squeezed your hand reassuringly.
You reached the Entrance Hall, then made your way up the marble staircase. The corridors and hallways looked exactly how you remembered them. You walked through hidden passages, stepped over missing stairs, and soon arrived at the last turn before the Gryffindor common room.
You swallowed and you stopped before the painting. It was not the Fat Lady, it was a simple picture of a forest. You let go of Fred’s hand and looked around nervously.
“Where is everyone?” you asked.
“Oh, you’ll meet them,” he said.
“When?”
“When you’re ready,” he gently squeezed your shoulder. “Don’t worry, all right? You’ll never have to worry again.”
Your eyes met his.
“Promise?”
He smiled and flipped open the portrait.
“Promise.”
The two of you stepped inside and nostalgia hit you like a train. The carpet, the furniture, the fireplace, the paintings, the doors, the tables and the chairs… even the smell was the exact copy of the one you remembered. Fred walked past you, talking loudly.
“I’m back.”
“Took you long enough,” said another voice and your heart missed a beat. Fred grinned.
“Yeah, well, I had to pick up someone.”
“Who?” came George’s voice from the couch. Fred grinned even more.
“See for yourself.”
George turned around and his face dropped. You couldn’t even take in his presence when he was already holding you in his arms, lifting you from the ground. When he put you down he kissed you without saying a word, and you kissed him back immediately… Then you pulled away just enough to look into his eyes, and realised that he was young again, just the same way as you were. His hair was ginger and messy, his freckles lit up his face, his skin was soft and toned… he was holding you with much more strength than in recent years, and his lips were crashing against yours with so much force that you had not felt in a long time.
“Hello, my love,” he said finally, and his words made you tear up again. “Welcome home.”
A shaky ‘hi’ was the only thing you could say. George laughed.
“Are you struck by my beauty, darling?” he teased. You chuckled.
“I missed you so much,” you said, cupping his cheeks. He turned serious, and rested his forehead against yours.
“I missed you, too. How’s… How’s everything at home? How are the kids?”
“I’m sure everyone’s fine, I’m… wait,” you looked at Fred. “I thought you could see what’s going on at home?”
He made a politely confused face.
“I’ve never said that.”
“But you referred to it.”
The twins exchanged looks. Fred hesitated.
“Well… You can have a peek, but it’s tricky.”
You frowned.
“Oh… It’s okay. You can show me how things work around here.”
“Now?” asked Fred in surprise. You shrugged and took your opportunity.
“Well, yeah of course!”
George laughed and kissed you on the cheek.
“Unbelievable! You barely got here and you already want to know everything!”
“You cannot build a trading business here, Y/N” said Fred, teasing.
“Of course I can!” you said, laughing. Then you raised your head in mock demand. “Now, show me around. I haven’t got all day.”
“Actually…” started Fred, grinning again. “We have all the time on Earth.”
You raised and eyebrow in doubt. Then, you smiled.
“Well, I don’t think we’re on Earth anymore.”
“Fine,” agreed Fred, smirking, while getting ahold of your arm and leading you to the portrait hole, George following. “We have all the time in Heaven, then.”
The End.
Dear Readers!
Thank you all for supporting Georgie and Witty’s story in this past year.
Writing this was like therapy for me - I could always escape to Harry’s world, and I’ll be forever grateful for that. I hope whenever you needed to, you could always escape to this world, too. In my opinion, this fanfiction shows perfectly, how the stories we love never really leave us. We can always create and read more. We can always relive the best times, even if it’s in the form of books, films, or a fanfiction.
Because don’t forget: Hogwarts will always be there to welcome you home.
Summary: As time goes by, you and George start your new life. Just the two of you. Until you have a surprise for him.
Warning: None, Fluff
Word count: 1.3
George Weasley x Reader
Masterlist
“Your total is five galleons and three knuts,” you said and took the coins that the young witch gave you. “Here you go, have a nice day!”
She took the package and waved goodbye. It took her a while to reach the entrance because the shop was flooded with people. All around kids were looking at products, laughing at each other, trying out magic and muggle cards, or just racing each other to the higher floors.
“Tough day?” came a kind voice from behind your back.
“Ron!” you said with a smile. “What are you doing here?”
“Just came to say hello.”
“Have you really?” you raised an eyebrow.
“Actually, I came to talk to George. Is he around?”
“Oh… Wait a second, will you? Verity!”
The witch from the other side of the store turned to you. You waved and watched as she started moving towards you, carefully making her way in the crowd.
“Verity, could you take over for a bit?” you indicated at the cashier. “I need to take care of something.”
“Of course!” she said and you nodded towards the stairs.
“Thank you. Come, Ron.”
You made your way to the upper floor which was a bit less crowded, then continued on the corridor towards the back, where the door lead through to your flat.
“So, what brings you here?” you asked once there were no people around. Ron looked around nervously.
“I was thinking about leaving the office.”
“Really?” you said while turning the key in the door. “How come?”
“It’s just… not for me I think. Harry’s all for it, but I was thinking about — woah! I’ve never been in here!”
He looked around in surprise, seeing the inside of the flat. You laughed.
“I guess the renovation really did the place justice.”
“You renovated?” he asked.
“Yeah… it was… it reminded of… you know,” you said dully. “George is in the office. He’s a bit quiet, this time of year, you know. It’s almost May.”
“Sure,” said Ron huskily. You cleared your throat.
“I’ll tell him you’re here. Be back in a sec.”
You walked past him, and knocked on the door which used to be Fred’s room. A muffled ‘come in’ came and you stepped inside. George was sitting at the table, papers and unfinished drawings all around him, but he was clearly not working. When he looked at you, a kind smile appeared on his lips.
“Hey, is everything all right?”
“Sure,” you said and walked over to him and sat in his lap. He welcomed you with a soft kiss. “What are you working on?”
“I was thinking about some new products.”
“Really?” you said with joy. He had not invented anything for years. “And what will they do?”
“Well…” he said lowly. “Maybe they’d ease tension. After a nightmare or something. I thought about them yesterday, when… you know…”
“You woke up?”
“Yeah,” he nodded and you saw him glancing towards the window, where a photograph of him and Fred stood. “What do you think?”
You stroke his hair kindly.
“I think it’s phenomenal.”
“You mean it?” he said, looking into your eyes again. “Or are you only saying that because you love me?”
You snorted with laughter.
“What a ridiculous question,” you kissed him. “By the way, Ron wants to see you.”
“Ickle Ronnie?”
“He’s here right now. He’s outside.”
“What does he want?”
“I think he might want a job. Here.”
“Does he?” he looked at the closed door. A sudden idea seemed to come him. “What if I hire him?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know, maybe you can apply for that job in the Ministry again. If you want, of course.”
“At the Ministry?” you said in disbelief.
“Well… You always wanted to work in trade… Maybe this time they actually look for qualification instead of blood,” he said in an annoyed tone. You looked at the floor, thinking.
“Yeah, maybe… Can we talk at dinner?”
Now he was the one who snorted.
“Weren’t we supposed to?”
“I meant… I just need to tell you something.”
“Oh…” he looked concerned. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” you said quickly, standing up from his lap. “I’ll send in Ron.”
The rest of the afternoon flew by quickly and once you looked at the clock it was already seven o’clock. You were heating up some leftovers from yesterday, when George exited the bathroom, his hair still a bit wet from the shower. You smiled at him; he looked incredibly handsome.
“So, what are the big news?” he asked and your heart jumped.
“What big news?”
“You wanted to tell me something, did you not?”
“Oh…Oh! Yes. Er —”
“What is it, then?” he came closer. “Is everything —”
“Stop asking if everything’s okay,” you snapped. “Sorry. I don’t wanna sound rude.”
“Okay, love…” he said, looking puzzled. “You’re starting to scare me so say it please.”
You stomach was in a knot. You had been thinking about phrasing the words in your mind the whole afternoon, but no solution came. You swallowed.
“You said I should apply for a job at the Ministry.”
“Yeah.”
“Well… I can’t really do that. Not now.”
“What?” he said. “Why?”
“Remember when I ate that fish and then threw up?”
“What, like — two weeks ago?”
“Mm. And I didn’t tell you this but I threw up yesterday, too.”
“Are you sick or something?” he asked, dumbfounded.
“Well, I thought… So I went to St Mungo’s for a check up…”
“Okay...” he said slowly. “What did they say?”
You took a deep breath.
“George… I’m pregnant.”
A silence fell over the room. George’s face was stuck in shock. His eyes were the only things moving; they slowly made their way down your chest and stopped under your stomach.
“W… What.”
It was not a question. You sighed again.
“I’m pregnant.”
“What.”
“I’m pregnant.”
“Wh —”
“George!” you said, your laugh shaky from nervousness.
“Merlin… Are you really?” his mouth fell open.
“Yes.”
“Oh, my God,” he fell onto his knees and touched your belly as if it was made of glass. “There’s a baby in here?”
“Yeah.”
“Hah… hah,” he laughed weirdly. You were not sure he understood the situation.
“George… You know what this means?”
“What?”
“You’re gonna be a dad. We’re gonna have a baby.”
He looked up at you, his eyes wide.
“A baby?”
“Yeah.”
“Our baby?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, my God… Oh, my God!” he exclaimed and stood up. “Oh, my God, Y/N! You’re pregnant, you’re… Oh, my God!”
He shouted and lifted you from the ground. You laughed and kissed him on the cheek.
“I can’t believe this…” he said, now grinning from ear to ear. “We’re gonna have a baby! Oh mum… Mum’s gonna freak!”
“I know,” you said, also smiling. “But there’s something else.”
“Something else?” he said and looked at your belly again.
“Yes. So… While I was there, there was a witch who told me about these charms that would help me know more about the baby… And…” you laughed as tears started falling from your eyes. “She asked me if I wanted her to do those charms on me, and I said yes…”
“Why are you crying?” George asked in fear.
“Because…” you chuckled with tears. “Because I don’t think we’ll need to think about names…”
“What do you mean?”
“Because… it’s a boy.”
He reacted faster than for the first time. His hands flew over his mouth, his eyes watering already.
“Are you… Are you sure?”
“Yes,” you nodded while crying and he broke into sobs as well. He hugged you again, holding you close, occasionally laughing, then crying again.
“You are my everything,” he said, whispering into your ears. “You and… him.”
He looked down at your belly again, and with a smile on his face he gently touched you where he imagined his son to be. You were shaking with joyful anxiousness, but were grateful as well; grateful for him, grateful for your happiness, and grateful for the amazing life that was about to come.
Summary: Who knew a breakthrough in your relationship would finally come? And what will happen after you and George found each other again?
Warning: None, Fluff
Word count: 2K
George Weasley x Reader
Masterlist
You just finished reading an article in the Daily Prophet when the door opened in the hall and George stepped inside, his heavy boots thumping on the wooden floor. You turned to him with a smile, watching as he threw his coat to the hanger and brushed the snowflakes out of his hair.
“It’s freezing outside,” he said and waved his wand so that a cup of hot tea appeared on the table.
“You should’ve taken the scarf your mum made,” you said, smirking. He rolled his eyes.
“Always with the lectures, Y/N,” he said, but you saw him hiding a smile. You threw the Prophet onto the table.
“So — how was it?” you asked eagerly. George took a sip.
“Well… it was quite all right,” he said with a shrug. “They seemed to like the idea to do some business with us. Maybe Tom’s hand is in it as well. He offered a bottle of gin. On the house.”
“He likes you, Tom,” you said. “And his help can always come in handy. Lot of folks come through the Leaky Cauldron from all around the country. If he can just talk to them about how amazing the shop is, that’s already a step forward to us.”
“You thought about this a lot, haven’t you?” George asked. You nodded.
“Why, of course. I want the best for this place. For you. For us.”
He didn’t answer but looked at you in a strange, almost surprised way. He seemed like he was thinking about something he had long forgotten, or as if he was searching for words that did not even exist.
“What is it?” you asked, because his gaze made you feel uncertain. He moved his head from side to side, speaking very slowly.
“Nothing. Everything’s all right.”
He stood up, taking his empty cup into the kitchen, his face still fixed in that expression. You didn’t know what to make out of it, and it started worrying you. When he reappered in the living room, you were determined to say something. He sat down next to you onto the couch.
“George, is —”
You couldn’t finish for he cupped your cheeks and pressed his lips onto yours, gently, but firmly at the same time, and you were staring in surprise, not sure what to make of the situation, for he had not kissed you for over a year now.
His lips parted slowly, allowing his tongue to have a taste of yours. You were on fire, you felt as though you were going to melt into his touch, and you closed your eyes and kissed him back, grabbing onto his shirt and pulling him closer until there wasn’t an inch between you left.
After at least a minute you couldn’t bare it anymore and broke apart, desperate for air. Your heart was beating twice as fast, and you were panting, while looking into those beautiful brown eyes.
“Hi,” he whispered. He seemed just as shocked as you were.
“Hi,” you said, your voice breaking. You felt tears in your eyes and you started blinking. One year. More than that. He had been somewhere else for more than a year. But now as you looked at him, you felt something else, something changing. You felt as if happier times would come.
“Come here,” he pulled you close, kissing your cheek. You were shivering. You couldn’t help it. You buried your face into his neck. You pressed soft kisses all over his skin. He took a sharp breath, then lowered his head to meet your lips again.
His hand found its way to your lower back and you felt like you were dreaming. You leaned closer to him, breathing in his smell which you loved and missed so much. He then slowly stood up, not letting go of your lips but pulling you with him. You stood on your toes, wrapping your arms around his neck. He pulled away, only for a second, to look into your eyes.
“Do you —”
“Yes, shut up,” you said, pressing your lips on his again, backing away towards the bedroom.
——
Christmas was just around the corner, and you felt as a completely new person. To be exact, you felt like yourself again. Yes, occasional sadness still hit you, it hit George as well. But somehow you felt as though the two of you were fighting against it together, and not separately.
Last Christmas you had not visited the Burrow, it was just way too much for the two of you. But this year Mrs Weasley invited you again, and even though her eyes were often watery and she blew her nose constantly, all of you felt like a family again. On Christmas Eve, when you were sitting on the couch in George’s lap, staring at the tree and listening to the radio, the world seemed a less horrible place, even if it lasted only for a few hours.
Everyone was there; Ginny and Hermione were talking while sitting on the floor, Harry and Ron were playing chess while Bill watched. Charlie was supposed to arrive the day after tomorrow. Mrs Weasley and Fleur were playing with Teddy, who was now mumbling words and constantly changing his hair color after every sentence. Mr Weasley and Percy were talking, being watched by George.
“Is everything okay?” you asked kindly, stroking his hair. “You’ve been quiet.”
“Yeah,” he tried to smile but you could see some kind of nervousness in his eyes.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, love,” he pressed a soft kiss on your hair. “Everything’s okay.”
Soon Andromeda came to take Teddy home, and people started to go to sleep one by one. Your heart ached painfully after entering George’s room — there were still two beds in there, figuring they’d come in handy once there’s way too many guests in the house. Still, it took you an enormous amount of effort to stay calm, take George’s hand and climb into bed next to him. He held you close all night, but you could tell that he was barely sleeping. You woke up several times during the night, too.
Then morning came and you opened your eyes with a tired groan. George was already sitting up, looking anxious. He was checking his watch, then when he saw that you were awake, he smiled weakly.
“Finally,” he said. “Come, I’m sure mum’s ready with breakfast.”
“Just give me five more minutes,” you said, closing your eyes again.
“C’mon, it’s Christmas!” he grabbed your hand and pulled you out of bed. “Aren’t you excited to give me your present?”
“Why do you think you’ll get a present in the first place?” you teased while opening the door.
“Witty,” George rolled his eyes and took your hand again, leading you down the stairs.
Not a single person were in the kitchen, they all gathered in the living room around the tree. It was quite crowded but you didn’t mind. Ron was already wearing his maroon jumper; you saw Hermione smirking and him shaking his head before kissing her on the cheek. Percy was just opening his package which seemed to contain a new scarf and a hat. Mrs Weasley’s sudden voice made George jump.
“Kids, finally! Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas… Let’s see… George, here you go dear. Just the usual.”
“Thanks, mum,” he said, hugging his mother for at least a minute. Mrs Weasley’s eyes were watering again, but she collected herself and smiled when looking at you.
“Y/N, dear… Arthur, where are you — come here! Now, dear, we’d like to —”
“No, mum, it’s me first!” said Ron through his teeth. You raised and eyebrow. George groaned.
“Then just do it, you prat.”
Ron shot an angry look at his brother, then he turned to Hermione uncertainly.
“Er — Hermione?”
“Merlin, Ron,” she said, rolling her eyes while searching in her pocket. “Yes, I have it, don’t worry. Do you want to read it?”
She gave Ron a piece of paper which he held up, looking a bit puzzled, then started to read.
“Dear Y/N! We were thinking about the perfect present for you, something that would make you feel the happiest person on this fine Christmas morning. Unfortunately, our ideas stopped at a certain point, therefore we decided that our present will be nothing more, than our appreciation and friendship that we feel whenever you’re in the room.”
He folded the paper, looking quite proud of himself. Hermione nodged him in the ribs.
“Oh, and Merry Christmas,” finished Ron. Hermione nodded. “Merry Christmas.”
“Oh…” you said, not sure what just happened. Anyway, their words felt really nice. You smiled. “Thank you. Merry Christmas to you, too.”
“Well, this is embarassing,” spoke Bill, while holding a piece of paper. “Looks like we were thinking about the same present as Ron.”
“Oh,” you said, feeling quite dull.
“I’ll still read it,” said Bill, and Fleur was looking at you, smiling. “Dear, Y/N. Please allow us to express, how much we adore you. You’re brave, you’re strong and you would do anything for the people you love. This perfectly showed during those long months you spent with us. It was hard, though you never gave up. And for this, Fleur and myself — we adore you.”
“Thank… Thank you,” you said, choking up. You felt their words to be too nice. They were too nice to you.
“Thanks Bill, for ruining my speech,” Ginny stepped forward, her face in mock annoyance. “I wanted to do the same thing, but seems like my idea was stolen.”
“Just read the letter sis,” said Bill, fighting a snicker. Ginny nodded and pointed at herself and Harry, a letter in her hand.
“Y/N, I want to thank you for being the first person who sat down next to me in my second year, even if I endangered a lot of lives the year before that. You never judged me, and you became one of the best friends I had. I don’t know what I’d do without you. You were always there for me, in happiness and sadness, and I hope I was always there for you when you needed me.”
“Of course you were,” you whispered.
“Good. And I promise to be there for you after this, for the rest of our lives. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” you said.
“Now, dear, Arthur and I have something to say as well,” said Mrs Weasley, paper in hand. “You have always been like a daughter to us, and we could not have been more proud of you. It’s always a pleasure to have you with us, and we thank you for making our son so happy. I know that without you he — he’d be lost and — all I want to say is… all we want to say is that we welcome you in our family.”
She smiled with tears in her eyes and George spoke.
“Y/N?”
You turned around and you saw him already on one knee, holding up a box with a beautiful ring in it. Your mouth dropped.
“Y/N…” he spoke. “You are the love of my life. You are my everything. You are witty, you are smart and you are the kindest person I’ve ever met…Without you I wouldn’t have been able to survive this past year… You were there for me since I’ve known you, and I can never repay you for all the love that you have given me. But if I try, maybe a lifetime will be enough… So will you marry me?”
You dropped onto your knees, crying. You ignored the ring and hugged George instead. It wasn’t even up for debate. Your answer was obvious.
“Yes!” you sobbed. “Of course I’ll marry you!”
You kissed him and the room erupted in cheers. George hugged you tight, his lips against yours and he stood up, pulling you with him while Mr Weasley summoned some glasses and champagne.
“I love you!” you said to him finally, after pulling away a bit, looking into his eyes. His were watery, but he was grinning.
“I love you, too!” he said, kissing you again. He then took your hand and placed the ring on your finger. You gasped.
“Oh, George — I love it!”
You hugged him again, and continued crying. The difference was, that these were not miserable tears. These were happy tears. And for the first time in a very long time, you felt that your happiness could not be demolished by anything.
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Summary: George has never been older than his twin brother. Ever. Until now.
Warnings: Angst
Word count: 1.7K
George Weasley x Reader
Song: Queen - Love of My Life
Masterlist
You had been dreading this day since last May.
In the past few months your relationship with George had become somewhat better, though you had your better and worse days either way. After Christmas you had figured it was time to clean out Fred’s room, that had been deserted for a very long time. It wasn’t an easy task to do. There was sobbing, cuddling, screaming, hugging, crying… but eventually it was over. Now its door was closed, hiding a room which no longer represented someone’s personality. It was just an empty room now.
And yes, it had been hard. Really hard, for the both of you. But some days were simply easier, some days you were not as miserable as usually… Except today. Oh, yes. You had been dreading this day since last May. Because today was the first day of April.
You woke up earlier than him and your empty stomach drove you into the kitchen, where you started chewing on a piece of toast, though not really feeling its taste. You looked at the clock; it was half past eight. You watched the seconds passing, feeling more and more miserable and lost. The silence in the kitchen was defeaning.
You put down your food, you simply couldn’t eat anymore. Your stomach was clenched and about the size of a nut, hurting with every breath. You wished you could eat more. Maybe then you could fill some of the empty hole in your chest.
You walked back to the bedroom and saw George lying on the bed with his eyes open. You stopped at the door, examining his face. He had been melancholic for a few days now… But today was different. You knew today he was hurting like nobody else.
“I’ve brought you some breakfast,” you said huskily, knowing very well that he’s not going to touch the food. You put the plate onto the nightstand and kneeled down to the floor to be on the same level as him.
He was crying. It wasn’t sobbing, it wasn’t conscious bawling… his tears were falling quietly down his face, then raced to reach his pillow. His gaze was empty, or at least he was staring at something that you couldn’t see.
You reached out, gently touching his face. You wiped his tears with your thumb, only to welcome more and more. You wanted to cry. You wanted to scream. You wanted to throw things around the room. But you had to stay strong for him. Today, you simply had no other choice.
You climbed back to bed and lay down, hugging him from behind. You were stroking his hair tenderly, occasionally pressing a small kiss onto his cheek or the nape of his neck. You were lying like this for at least an hour, when he started shaking.
“It’s okay,” you said, hugging him tight while he was crying in your arms. “It’s all right, love.”
He was shaking even more and you had no idea what to do. All you could think of is staying here, by his side and making through the day, one minute at a time.
There was knocking on the window and you saw an owl, with a letter tied to its leg. You turned towards it uncertainly, George still in your arms.
“Don’t…” he said. “Don’t go.”
“I’m not…” you said and waved your wand towards the window. It opened and the owl flew inside, raising his leg after finding a place on your cover to stand.
You needed only a second to see what kind of letter it was. You got it from the owl, watched as it flew away, then looked at the messy writing which seemed to had been written by a very shaking hand.
“It’s from your mum,” you said lowly. George winced.
“I don’t want to read it.”
“I know,” you said and put the letter aside. “You really need to eat something, Georgie. It’s almost noon.”
He didn’t answer and you accepted his silence. You went back to him, resting you chin on the top of his head, while he was shaking with watery eyes.
“I’ve never been older,” he said, his voice muffled from the crying.
“What?”
“I’ve n-never been older,” he sobbed. “Older than him.”
Your heart broke into a million pieces with realization. You swallowed, trying your best not to cry, but it was really really hard.
“Sing,” George said suddenly. You looked at him, puzzled.
“What?”
“Sing,” he pleaded. “You sang a muggle song… a long time ago… sing for me…”
“I don’t — I don’t remember singing,” you said desperately. He cried.
“Please… Please, Y/N…”
“I can’t…”
“Please.”
You stared. You didn’t want to sing. You were only singing when you were happy, when nothing troubled you… It was a tool to express joy… You knew if you were going to sing now, you would lose your mind. You would hurt yourself on so many levels… But George was here, asking you to do it. And you would do anything for him.
And so you took a deep breath and sang the first thing that came to your mind.
Love of my life, you've hurt me
You've broken my heart and now you leave me
Love of my life, can't you see?
Bring it back, bring it back
Don't take it away from me, because you don't know
What it means to me
It was not perfect, you could barely call it nice. But you were singing and George seemed to ease in your arms for the first time. You couldn’t stop now.
Love of my life, don't leave me
You've taken my love, you now desert me
Love of my life, can't you see?
Bring it back, bring it back
Don't take it away from me
Because you don't know
What it means to me
Tears started blurrying your sight so you decided to close your eyes.
You will remember
When this is blown over
Everything's all by the way
When I grow older
I will be there at your side to remind you
How I still love you
I still love you
You saw a castle in your mind, and you saw happy memories. You saw walls and common rooms, greenhouses and Hagrid’s hut, you saw a lake, you saw a village and you saw two boys with red hair at the Great Hall table, recklessly laughing about who knows what. You were choking on your tears. But you wanted to finish now.
Oh, hurry back, hurry back
Please bring it back home to me because
You don't know what it means to me
Love of my life
Love of my life
You fell silent, your tears running down your cheeks. You left them there. You didn’t care anymore.
The two of you lay there, not saying a word for at least an hour. George seemed to breathe a bit more easily after the song, and it was all that mattered. You, on the other hand, were a complete mess. You pressed your lips together tight, determined not to make a noise. Behind your closed eyelids pictures from the past flew by, and you wished with everything that you were to be able to turn back time and be a fifth year student again, who sometimes orders stuff from outside the castle and sells them to be able to buy a ruddy bottle of butter beer.
The sun was shining from a different angle now and you knew that it was way into the afternoon. Without any hope for success, you gently stroke George’s hair and spoke in a low whisper.
“You should really eat something, love… or have a cup of tea… how does that sound?”
To your surprise, George opened his eyes and turned his head slowly, facing you. Maybe he was more hungry than miserable, because he nodded and sighed as if collecting some strength to get out of bed.
“Okay.”
He sat up, but didn’t stand until you intertwined your fingers with his. His face looked exhausted, his eyes were bloodshot from all the crying. His hair was everywhere and his cheekbones were as sharp as a knife.
“Come on,” you said, leading him to the kitchen. “How about some music?”
He nodded and sat down to the table. You turned on the radio, leaving it on low volume and letting the slow tune to fill the cold room. You left the water to boil and looked at George again. He was sitting with his head hanging low, breathing slowly, eyes closed.
“Come,” you said again, tenderly touching his hand. “Dance with me.”
“What?” he said, visibly puzzled.
“Dance with me,” you said again, pulling him to his feet.
“Y/N…”
“Sh… it’s okay. See?”
You wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning closer so that your chest was against his. You two started swaying slowly, without any real steps, but still dancing in an intimate, loving way. You rested your chin on his shoulder, standing on your toes to reach him. After a while you felt him shaking with sobs again.
“Darling…” you said, gently wiping his face. He shook his head.
“I’m sorry…”
“No — Don’t say that. I know…”
“It’s not that…” he sniffled. “It’s… I know… I know how terrible I’ve been to you…”
“You weren’t,” you said, though a weird uneasiness came over you. He shook his head again.
“Yes, I’ve been. I… I want you to know… I want to spend my whole life with you… I do, but… I feel like I’m stuck… I don’t have my old life anymore, but I’m not ready to… to start my new one…”
“It’s okay…”
“But I need to tell you, I need you to understand…”
“I know, baby,” you said, kissing him on his cheek. “I know it’s hard, I know we’re… we’re not quite all right, but… maybe with t-time, we will be.”
“It hurts…”
“It hurts me, too,” you said, hugging him close, and he hugged you until you couldn’t breathe, until you felt nothing but him, and finally it felt as though some of the pain inside the two of you was evaporating away… You knew better times would come… But when, you had no idea.
You thought about Hogwarts again, the castle and its grounds, and you realized with another painful jolt in your heart that you would never be able to return to those times when you were so carelessly happy. You went through a war. You were not children anymore. You were both… well… older.
Summary: After Fred’s death everything is dark. How can you move on when you don’t want to move on? And how can you love each other, when all love seems lost?
Warnings: Angst
Word count: 2K
George Weasley x Reader
Masterlist
Like two strangers, you were lying on each side of the bed, your backs opposite each other. The clock on the wall said it was way past two in the morning. Still, you were not asleep. You were quiet, your breathing steady and slow, and you were staring into nothing, while George’s quiet sniffs came from behind you.
You’d moved back to the little flat above the shop three months ago, after spending one more month at the Burrow. It was still hard. Without Fred the rooms felt empty and deserted. The shop was open, sure; you knew George rather wanted it open so that he can do something… but it was not as charming, not as fun as it used to be. For the two of you, at least, it wasn’t.
The bed creaked on George’s side and he got up and left the room. You didn’t turn around; you knw either he was going to the bathroom to wash his face, drive his demons away, or headed for the kitchen to drink something that’d help him sleep. You waited for minutes but he didn’t return. Then there was a crash.
You got up and ran outside; the lights were on in the kitchen. You covered your eyes for they were hurt by the brightness and stepped in.
George was standing in the middle of the kitchen, frozen, his face emotionless and bland. He was staring at one spot on the ground, where the remains of a broken teapot lay. Around it was a small puddle of water, pieces of china all around the floor.
“Reparo,” you said. You dried up the water with another wave of your wand. You looked at George. “You okay?”
He didn’t answer. He turned away, lips pressed together and leaned onto the counter. After some hesitation you stepped closer. His shoulders were shaking, his head hanging low. You knew he was able to sob quietly, a talent which he had perfected during these past months. It came in handy when he wanted to hide his cries from you. It broke your heart.
“Love…” you said as gently as you could. You wished you could hug him. “Love, come back to…”
“Stop it, Y/N,” he said, a bit colder than you found necessary. You swallowed.
“Let me help you.”
“I cannot be helped,” he said, still not turning around. “Go back to bed.”
You stood there, choking up. He had been like this ever since you got back from the Burrow. Yes, he left the house every now and then, yes, he had reopened the shop, but he was not the same George anymore. He was barely eating, he was just staring at or playing with his food. He looked so pale and so sickly, that you were seriously concerned for his health at this point. There were times, when he was frozen in shock and in realization; then he would just stay still, staring into the void, completely forgetting about the world. Usually, he got three or four hours of sleep per night; he got to bed late and woke up early, desperately doing his best to avoid dreams, dreams which you knew were haunting him since they were all about Fred.
And the worst of it was that he didn’t want to be helped. He didn’t want to be comforted. When you tried to hug him he left, when you tried to dry up his tears he turned away. You knew you needed to give him space, and it was all right, but at the same time you felt lonely and depressed as well. He had promised that he’d be there for you, but he was distant and rejecting. You were like two strangers living together.
On those rare occasions when he had better days — when he put a lock of your hair behind your ear, or touched your shoulder as he passed behind you in the shop — you felt empty. You were missing that raw energy that he had always had, that special George Weasley-like liveliness… you wished he would pull you into his arms, or would fiercly grab you while making love… but in reality he barely touched you, and even if he did, his fingertips brushed against your skin and that was it. Nothing more. After two months of moving back, you had wanted him so much your body hurt… but when you kissed him, he had refused and told you to go back to bed.
Just like he did now.
——
George was bleeding; he had cut himself with the paper when he unwrapped the package that just had arrived. How ridiculous, he thought, as he watched the owl flying out the open window, and sucked on his finger in annoyance. When the bleeding stopped, he looked at the little wooden box his mother sent him and opened it up. It was full of old letters, pieces of paper and pictures. He closed the box immediately, turning it’s little lock. He had an idea what it was, but he simply did not have the strength to care about it in the moment.
There was a knock on the door.
“Come in,” he said, and you stepped in. George hid his hand with the cut finger in his pocket. He didn’t even know why.
“Someone is looking for those eatable ears,” you said, the buzzing of the jokeshop coming from behind you. “She doesn’t want to understand that we won’t have them until the end of the month.”
“Just… ask her if she wants to preorder now,” he said, barely paying attention.
“All right.”
You nodded and turned to leave, but George’s gaze fell upon the box on his desk.
“No, wait — Actually, could you take this up, please? Mum sent it. I’ll deal with those ears. Why don’t you… Go up. We’re closing in thirty minutes anyway.”
He gave you the box and you took it; he saw something in your eyes but you turned away quickly and closed the door behind you, leaving him alone in his office. He cleaned his throat, fighting that depressed feeling he felt every time he talked to you.
The truth was, he had opened the shop again, but only to have something to spend his days with. It did not cause him pleasure anymore, but it was rather painful to spend each day selling products that they made up with Fred, together. He did not feel enthusiastic walking along the shelves; he felt as if he was missing something, he felt as if a big part of him was left somewhere.
Well, he had been feeling like this anyway, so at least he was making some money.
He also felt lost, but it was not because of Fred. It was because of you. When he looked at you during breakfast, or talking to a customer, he wondered if he’d see the spark in your eyes, the cheekiness he loved so much. He knew he was causing you pain, he knew you were crying every night… But he couldn’t bring himself to talk to you about Fred. He couldn’t.
He was staring at the floor for minutes when he finally remembered that he was supposed to help someone. He left the office, immediately being surrounded by hundreds of people laughing and joking around amongst the shelves. He felt nauseos.
He wrote down the name of the customer, then he watched as the crowd slowly faded. Then he closed the doors, turned the lights and headed for the stairs, up to the flat. He fumbled with his keys, then stepped inside, and — carefully avoiding his reflection in the mirror — loosened his tie. When he turned around, that’s when he saw you sitting on the living room floor, sobbing.
His heart jumped in fear and he hurried over, scared, that something really serious was happening, that you were in pain, that someone might had hurt you… Then he saw the wooden box next to you, a bunch of photographs lying all over the floor. He lowered himself, feeling extremely anxious.
“Y/N?” he started uncertainly. “What happened?”
You shook your head and sobbed. George wished he could hug you. He wished he was able to.
“Y/N…” he said miserably. “Tell me…”
You reached for a photograph on the floor and shoved it in his hand. It was crumbled as if you had grabbed it too firmly. He looked at it and he felt his heart pounding painfully. He thought he’d have a heart attack.
It was the three of you — him, you and Fred, in the Burrow, standing in front of the Christmas tree, when you came back from Hogwarts in your last year. It was not moving, it was made using Mr Weasley’s muggle camera, but George could still see the happiness in his eyes. And Fred… He couldn’t look at Fred for long. He stared at himself instead, but it was like looking at a stranger. He was smiling, he looked well-fed and healthy, he even looked more mascular than he was now. He chuckled darkly — he still had two ears.
He turned over the picture and put it down. He sat down next to you, examining all the papers on the floor.
“Can I bring you something?” he asked lowly. “Tea?”
You shook your head. George swallowed.
“C-coffee, then?”
“Hold me,” you said suddenly, between sobs. “Please.”
How could he explain that he couldn’t? But you were already in his arms, and he held you so gently that he barely even touched your skin. He was sitting there with you for long minutes, thinking wether he knew what he was doing or was he just a coward…
“George?” you asked, wiping your face.
“Yes?” he said huskily.
“Don’t you love me anymore?”
He stared, taken aback and you pulled away from him, looking into his eyes.
“Why would you say that?” he asked, but he knew very well what you meant.
“Because I feel it,” you said. Your voice was really heavy. “I see it when I look at you. You… you haven’t kissed me in months. You wouldn’t even touch me… I feel so out of place, and I feel like I’m just some burden, some stranger who lives here.
“You’re not — no,” George felt his whole world shaking. How could he tell you, how could he make you understand? “I love you, Y/N! I do, I really do!”
“I’m not sure I can believe that anymore…”
George shook his head violently. How could he explain to you how he was feeling? How he was constantly wishing that he could rip out his heart to stop the pain? He didn’t even have to think about Fred to be hurt, the feeling was just there, all the time, during the day, but also during the night as well. He had nightmares, visions about the battle, but sometimes it was not Fred who lay on the floor, but his mum… Ginny… you.
He hadn’t been home for a month, he just could not bare to look them in the eye. But here was different. You were with him in the shop, in the flat, in the bed… And George somehow felt that if he kept his mind off you, the nightmares would not come so often. He felt that when you kissed him, he slept worse, fighting the sick feeling in his stomach that was telling him that he’d lose you as well, that if he loved you carelessly and freely a moment would come and take you away from him as well.
But he couldn’t tell you that. You’d not understand. You’d tell him that the war was over and that you were safe now… And George didn’t want to be reassured, because he didn’t believe that everything was fine now, he didn’t believe that life was safe and sound when he was already missing the biggest part of his life… So this is why he let his head hang low at the dinner table, this is why he went form kisses to hugs, from hugs to shoulder brushes, and this is why he told you to stop when you wanted to make love to him, during those quiet nights in late August…
He realized he had zoned out again. It had been really hard for him to concentrate on anything, really. But your quiet crying brought him back to reality. No matter how hard he tried to stay away from you… he still loved you. And he hated himself for causing you pain.
