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almostfoxglove · 1 day ago

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omg. omG. okay as a certified Javi Girl my heart went NOOO seeing him be so awful, but also, that's our man. that's so real. LMAOO - this was so much fun? and the MEET CUTE EXCUSE ME why is this the cutest first date not a date that's ever occurred?? ooooh, to fall in love with dave york inside the infinity mirror room of stars :,) loving this so far!!

Law of Attraction ~ Chapter 1

Rom Com AU divorce lawyer!Dave York x fem!Reader (featuring nightclub owner! Javier Peña)

Word count: 2,779

Summary: A chance meeting at a museum brings you companionship when you least expect it.

(Warnings contain spoilers beneath the cut)

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit for allusion to smut/light smut and eventual smut. Rom com vibes throughout. AU as stated above. Reader wears dress and makeup. Mentions of loneliness. TW for infidelity and some violence (nobody harmed.. physically)

Author's Note: Some of you may be thinking, 'but Adriana, don't you already have a series about Dave?' to which I answer a resounding Yes, but I've left that story at a good place for right now and will get to updating it as time allows. Plus I really just wanted to do a light and fluffy story 😊 Fun fact: all the chapters are named after rom-com tropes 😉There will be more Pedro characters added in later chapters, so be on the lookout. Enjoy!

Series Masterlist

You put on your earrings in the mirror, little violet flower earrings that match the soft purple in your dress. Your mascara, freshly applied, is at risk of being cried away before you grab a tissue to dab at your eyes.

"You're sure you're not upset?" your husband Javier asks behind you, sitting up in bed with a fresh cigarette between his lips.

"Of course not," you smile, doing your best to tamper down your feelings and brush your selfishness aside. "I know the business comes first." Javi has important meetings regarding his nightclub, more than ever these days, it seems. You're a good wife in letting him do what he needs to do.

"You know I'd come with you if I could. And hey, the museum's always gonna be there," he reasons. "Besides, we'll catch dinner later tonight at that new steakhouse on the east side."

"It's just.." you turn to face him, leaning against the vanity. "Today's the last day of the Kusama exhibit. I wanted to see it with you."

"Baby, we can catch it another time."

"After this they're moving across the country," you pout, not meaning to, but it's the umpteenth time Javier has broken his promise to you.

"Come here."

You obey his soft command, sitting on the edge of the bed, your skin warming to his touch as his fingers graze up and down your arm. "You smell good, baby. You used that perfume I got you?"

"Yeah," you smile, lifting your other wrist to your nose. "Roses de Chloe. My favorite."

"My favorite too, on you." He stubs out his cigarette and pulls you in for a kiss.

"Javi," you giggle as his hand dips below the scooped neckline of your dress, cupping your breast. "Didn't you get enough earlier?"

"I didn't fuck you good enough if you're still able to walk," he smirks, pulling you down against his chest.

"I'm already running late," you sigh as he pulls the top of your dress down and his lips pucker around your nipple, sucking and pulling.

"Late for a museum? Only you would worry about that, honey. Now come on," he says, scooting down on the bed. "Lift up that dress, baby, and sit on my fucking face."

Dave has been waiting in line with his daughters for only fifteen minutes when the announcement is made that tickets are officially sold out. Alice and Molly look up at him, expecting him to do something, but what exactly can he do? "Look, girls, I'm sorry. We'll have to come back another day."

"We wanted to see the exhibit. I wanted to take a selfie with those big neon wiggly things," Molly pouts.

"I know, sweetie, but it's just not in the cards today." He ruffles her hair, hating to disappoint them.

There's a scent of roses as he feels someone approach the three of them. "Hey, sorry, I heard you wanted to get into the exhibit."

Dave looks up and sees you, and has a momentary lapse of thought, struck by how pretty you are. Floral dress, white sweater, lavender bag. It's like you've stepped out from a commercial.

"Um.. yes, my daughters are kind of upset that tickets sold out so quick. It's my fault for not purchasing them ahead of time." He smiles sheepishly, wondering what you must think of him.

"I can get you in with me," you offer. "I have a membership pass. Kids get in free and I can bring one other person."

"You don't have to do that-"

"Please. I want to." You take a look at his daughters, who are looking back at you with hope in their pretty little eyes. "You'd be doing me a favor by accepting," you tell Dave.

The girls tug on his hands, jumping up and down, begging him to take up your offer until he at last relents. "Okay, okay," he chuckles. "Thank you, Miss..?"

You give him your name, offer your hand, which he takes in his own. He repeats it back to you, making sure he's got it right, the taste of your name like a sweet swig of wine in his mouth.

He introduces himself, Dave York, and his kids Molly and Alice, minus the wife Carol, who's working a double shift today. The usual pleasantries are exchanged, nervous smiles, comments about the weather.

Even after you break the handshake he swears he can still feel your skin against his, soft and delicate.

You willingly split from him once you're inside, not wanting him to feel beholden to stay at your side because of your help. Besides, you're used to outings where you're by yourself. It gives you time to think.

The exhibit is just as gorgeous in person as you've seen online. Love is Calling is an area filled with brightly-lit neon orange, purple, green, and yellow inflatable shapes that remind you of large stalagmites and stalactites covered in big black polka dots, which change colors gradually.

"It's like being in another world," someone says next to you, and you look up to find Dave.

"Yeah," you agree, smiling as you look around. "Like Dr. Seuss's world."

He laughs at that, and watches his older daughter take a selfie just as she'd wanted to do. You like his laugh, and a deeper part of you wants to hear it more often. From the corner of your eye you watch him in profile. Dark brown hair, neatly combed to the side, coffee-colored eyes, aquiline nose, soft-looking lips with a prominent cupid's bow, and a clean shaven jaw.

You realize you've been staring too long, blush creeping up your neck as you turn away just before he sees.

"Do you hear that?" he asks, brows drawn together in concentration.

You grab the brochure from inside your bag. "It's the artist, Yayoi Kusama, reciting a love poem in Japanese," you read. "The poem is called 'Residing in a Castle of Shed Tears'."

"Sad title for such a whimsical place."

"True.." you watch his girls playing, hiding from each other among the colorful shapes. "They're having fun."

"Do you have any of your own?" he asks.

"Oh.. no. My husband and I didn't want any." It was a little white lie-- Javier had gotten a vasectomy without your knowledge right after you'd gotten married. But it's not anything a stranger needs to know.

"They're.. life-changing," Dave says.

"No boys?"

He shakes his head. "We are pretty much done ourselves."

"Ah. Got it."

Entering into the next area is the most magical part. The infinity mirror room, dark but for a blue tint cast throughout, and hundreds of tiny LED lights. You're multiplied throughout the mirrors within, in seemingly endless space. It takes your breath away.

Next to you, Dave's fingers accidentally brush yours and you both startle from it, laughing a little nervously before you move away. You try not to think about the jolt that went through you at the contact.

You try to stay as long as you can in this area, before the next crowd comes in. It's in this one place you don't feel like yourself, as if you exist far apart from your life, and it's a very freeing feeling.

Dave loses you after the exhibit, and stamps down the disappointment at realizing he might not ever see you again. He tries to show the girls some art, what little he studied in college, explaining the way certain painters painted the way they did, or the intricacy of a sculpture. Molly and Alice don't seem interested, but they like spending time with him.

His heart jumps when he sees you across the gallery, studying a Renaissance painting, staying long after the others have moved onto other pieces. You must feel his eyes on you because you turn, and with a little smile you wave at him. He waves back, holding back a full on grin as you approach him. "Thought you'd left by now."

"I could stay here all day," you tell him, and there's something about the dreamy look in your eyes that melts his heart. A silent agreement crosses between you and you circle the gallery together.

So close to you now, he tries to be stealthy about his glances at you. He can't defend the awkward rhythm of his heart when you move closer to whisper some fact about the painter of this particular still-life. All he can think about is your scent: rose perfume, a sweet vanilla in your shampoo, and something else, unfamiliar and yet he'd know it from a mile away.

Sex. You smell like sex.

His eyes dart quickly to your dress, the flesh of your thighs not covered, wondering if you know, if you even care, because truth is he doesn't mind it at all.

Stop looking at her. You're married. She's married. The band of gold glistening on your finger is a dead giveaway.

"We need to come out here more often," he says, hoping to find a reason to run into you again. "We should get going. But not before a stop at the gift shop, right?" And the girls agree excitedly.

You pop in with them, not really knowing why. Maybe it's because Dave is so nice, or because his daughters are adorable and you'd like to have your own someday.

You're perusing the section near the cashier's desk you and Dave both reach for the same poster: Starry, Starry Night by Van Gogh.

"Sorry," you say at the same time, awkwardly letting go.

"You should take it," he offers.

"No, no.. your girls should have it. I wasn't going to buy it anyway."

He shakes his head, a little smile on his lips, which you can't stop glancing at. "You've done so much for us today.."

"Please," you insist, handing him the poster tube.

It's a warm feeling to watch the girls so excited, ending their day on a high note. You walk outside altogether, the late afternoon giving way to early evening.

"We wanted to thank you again. Right, girls?" And his daughters give a polite 'thank you' in unison, their cute faces beaming.

"It's my pleasure," you smile serenely at them. "I hope I'll see you again sometime. I actually own a little place a couple blocks away. It's a bookstore-slash-bakery."

"We could go check it out," Dave offers, and the girls are excited to spend more time on their adventure.

Dave doesn't know what to expect when he steps foot into your bookstore/bakery, Fiction & Frosting, but he can tell right away it's absolutely your creation. The bakery section is at the front, the scent of vanilla, cinnamon, and coffee greeting him, giving a cozy atmosphere right away. The glass display cases boast treats of all kinds: cookies, cupcakes, cake pops, brownies, everything a bakery could have. Down the counter, employees are making coffee, preparing orders as customers wait patiently, thumbing through the books they've already purchased.

He smiles when you slip behind the counter, getting the girls some treats after making sure it's okay with him, and strawberry milk to go with their sweets. Dave declines at first but is unable to resist a blueberry muffin and a black coffee. He insists on paying you, but you refuse his money. It's easy to be kind to him and his kids. You like taking advantage of being able to do nice things for others.

The four of you stroll the bookstore area, the atmosphere cozy, the scent of paper and ink that only a literary shop can provide. There are new releases as well as classics; magazines and journals. "This is impressive. I can't remember what this place used to be, and I've worked across the street from here for years." Dave says. Alice and Molly are looking at the kids' section.

"Oh you have?" you smile. "I've always wondered what that place is." All you know is it's a high-rise building, sleek glass and metal, with expensive suits coming and going.

"Here," he says, reaching into his wallet and pulling out his business card. Your fingers brush together for a moment during the transfer, and you both smile.

"You're a.. divorce attorney," you say, voice somewhat flat.

"Uh, yeah," he says as if he could apologize. He glances at your ring again, twisting his own gold band as if to ground his thoughts and remind himself that you're both taken.

When you burst into tears he freezes, his jacket left behind in his car with the handkerchief he would have given you. Luckily you pull a tissue from your purse and press it to your face.

"Are you okay? I didn't mean to upset you," he says, softly rubbing your back.

"I'm fine," comes your muffled reply. "I just.. I'm just emotional, that's all."

"Is everything all right.. at home?" he asks, concerned by your tears. So many years in this field and he knows an unhappy wife when he sees one.

"I don't.. is it okay if I don't talk about it?" you sniffle.

"Of course. I didn't mean to pry," he assures you, his voice soothing. He keeps his hand on your back, waiting for you to let it all out.

"I'm such a fool," you manage a smile at him through your tears. "I didn't mean to blow up like that."

"It's okay," he says, dabbing at a streak of mascara you'd missed on your cheek. "My number's on the card. If you ever just want to talk, please call. I promise not to charge you," he adds with a little chuckle, hoping to lift your spirits.

"Or maybe.. you could come by for a coffee. I promise not to charge you." You give him a real, true smile.

It's almost as if you don't want to go home, but there's no reason to stay once Dave and the girls have left the shop. The drive home isn't as long, despite the traffic.

You can hear the music from the front hallway. "Moment" by Victoria Monet, the smooth bass and vocals providing an atmosphere you typically walk into when Javi's in the mood, which is often. You smile, wondering if he's expecting your arrival and setting the mood before you go out to dinner. As often as he does break his promises, he has his ways of making up for it. You open the door to your bedroom.

"Babe, I--"

You freeze into place as your world breaks wide open.

Another woman is in your bed with your husband, her body writhing on top of him.

Rooted to the spot, you watch helplessly as this happens. His hands are all over her body, he's calling her all the pet names he calls you. Mami, hermosa, carino, ven por mi.

"What the fuck??" you shout over the music, putting a stop to the extramarital fucking going on in your marriage bed. Javi and his bitch scramble to cover up. "This is the meeting you absolutely couldn't miss??" You glare daggers at the woman, who's avoiding your gaze as she hurriedly puts her skimpy dress back on. You recognize her-- Cindy, one of the bartenders at his club. "Get out of here, you slut! I don't want to see you in this house ever again!" You throw nearest thing - a bottle of perfume from your vanity - at her, narrowly missing her as Roses de Chloe crashes against the wall. Cindy manages to escape unscathed but the true target of your fury remains.

"Didn't expect you back so early, baby. I can explain," Javier says, getting his jeans back on, forgoing his underwear. But you back away before he can come near you.

"Explain?? Explain to me how you fell into your employee dick-first!"

He looks guilty for only a second, a little smile on his lips as he tries again to broach your defenses. "She means nothing to me. She's just going through a lot right now and I wanted to help her. I can't help that she came on strong." He studies you, his face a perfect facade of innocence, eyebrows slightly lifted, plush lips pouting beneath his perfectly groomed mustache.

But you know better. You shrink from him as he tries to reach out and hold you.

You're sick to your stomach over his lies, and the readiness with which you have accepted them in the past. "Don't touch me!" you shout, ready to hurl something at him. "Don't ever come near me again," you manage, right before tears spill over your eyes. Without a second thought you hurry out of the house you've shared with him for years, get into your car and drive away.

dividers by @strangergraphics & @cafekitsune👑

Taglist: @penascigarette @joelalorian @la-vie-est-une-fleur29

@darkheartgatita @speaktothehandpeasants @rav3n-pascal22

@vickie5446 @eviispunk @mrs-pedro-pascal @zascal

@sunnytuliptime @mysticsuitcasealmondwombat

@joelmillerisapunk @almostfoxglove @itwasntimethatdidit40

@604to647 @milla-frenchy @everybodylovedcontractors

#read #bookshelf #dave york fic #dave york #ficrec #fluff fic #queued

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almostfoxglove · 12 hours ago

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my GOD THE END OF THIS CHAPTER WAS SO FUCKING SATISFYING!!! adriana, my god. I am salivating for this - all the set up is so well done and I'm loving every second of it. THE LAST LINE?? like I am pumping my fist in the air yes pleaaase :,) love love love

Law of Attraction ~ Chapter 2

Rom Com AU divorce lawyer!Dave York x fem!Reader (featuring nightclub owner! Javier Peña)

Word count: 1,736

Summary: After reflecting on the ups and (mostly) downs of your relationship with Javier, you make a decision about your future.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit for allusions to smut. Mention of selling drugs (Javi). Mentions of past infidelities (Javi again). Mention of illegal activities going on in Javi's club. Threats towards Javier. Basically Javier Pena is a walking red flag but reader was in love.

Author's note: this is basically just backstory on how reader and Javi got together. Dave makes an appearance at the end. Also, big love to everyone who's taken the time to read/reblog, or leave a nice little comment. 💜

Series Masterlist

I told you so.

That's the phrase booming through every thought in your brain as you try to come to terms with Javi's infidelity.

And it wasn't even the first time. You could kick yourself for being so trusting and so blind.

From the moment you'd met Javier Pena, who sold drugs to your friends behind the football field bleachers during your senior year of high school, you'd fallen for his bad boy persona. Motorcycle, leather jacket, aviators, cigarette resting between pouty lips, perfectly groomed mustache. He looked like the saxophone solo from "Careless Whisper".

He'd graduated six years ahead of you, and still came around campus, a legend in his own mind. That should have been your first red flag.

But out of all the girls who flirted with him, you were the one he wanted.

He'd whisked you away on his motorcycle, bringing you home so late that your parents forbade you from seeing him. But nothing could stop true love, that's what you had with him. Javier saw you, made you feel seen. He listened to you, big brown eyes studying your every feature, compelling you to kiss him, to do things you ordinarily wouldn't have.

You were engaged right after you graduated, much to the consternation of your family. But when your engagement seemed to go on and on without an actual wedding date in sight, you had your doubts that he really wanted to marry you.

After giving him an ultimatum which led to Javi telling you he wanted to wait another few years to actually tie the knot, you'd separated from him, giving back his ring, crying yourself to sleep as your mom or your sister would make their best attempts at soothing you. Seeing him with other girls - a different one riding behind him on his motorcycle each time - during those separations only further broke your heart. You found out you weren't so special after all.

But he always came back, always smooth talked his way to your too-good heart. And you let him back in, grateful for his kisses again, grateful for the way his body molded to yours, the splay of his hands across your hips as he bent you over and fucked his way back into your life.

The wedding, when it finally happened, went by in such a blur-- the two of you at the county courthouse, Javi in his best suit, bolo tie and new shiny boots, you in a simple lacy white dress you'd found at a consignment store, tailored to your measurements, and flowers in your hair. Javi had whjisked you away right after the ceremony, unceremoniously fucking you in the backseat of your car.

You'd always wanted kids, your maternal instinct going haywire any time any of your friends announced they were pregnant. You'd run your fingers longingly along the wooden cribs and quilted blankets on display at Target. It felt like the end of the world when Javi admitted he couldn't give you any children. His 'family visit to South Texas' just a couple months after your marriage was actually him recuperating after his vasectomy. You'd nearly left him then, deeply hurt by his secrecy and betrayal, but considered that you could make him change his mind one day, and he'd have it reversed.

A married man, he wanted to rely on steady income to support you besides selling weed and adderall to high schoolers. One thing he was good at was showing people a good time. He had his heart set on opening a strip club, but when you vehemently refused to stay married to him if he did just that, he set his sights on the next best thing and bought out an old roller rink with the help of his lifelong buddy Steve Murphy and renovated it into a nightclub.

His purchase of the club drained any savings you'd amassed in the first few years of your marriage, and you only saw a return on the investment once he'd promoted every night, made deals with shady people, allowed a few illegal gambling, drug, and prostitution outfits to operate within the walls of his new sanctuary. You looked the other way, only able to stomach the idea of being okay with it when Javi offered to buy you your own small business.

All your life you loved two things: baking and literature. Fresh croissants over the latest Janet Evanovich, homemade chocolates and The Great Gatsby. Ever the businessman, Javi talked you into creating your own business, gifting you the seed money to open Fiction & Frosting more expeditiously than you were comfortable with, mainly because you knew just where the funds for your business were coming from.

Planning and decorating had been the fun part to get you away from that thinking. You made the place your own, with your stylistic touches and smooth melodies to play over the ambience. You handpicked the titles that went into your store, including New York Times bestsellers along with lesser known authors and self-published works. Meet and greets were held, helping to gain traction when well-known authors were brought in to do press for their latest releases and for up and coming writers to display their own works.

You were proud of your own business, and eventually made enough money to pay Javier back for his investment. But even though your conscience was clean, your problems weren't necessarily over.

With Javi at the club most nights, you were lonely. It would be near dawn when he'd come home, stinking of cigarettes and alcohol, and, occasionally, another woman's perfume. And still he'd curl up next to you, kissing your neck as if nothing was wrong, spooning you so you could feel his bulging erection through your pajamas.

You'd stayed away, hoping to keep separate the Javi you loved and the Javi you knew had a business to maintain. But one night in particular your curiosity got the best of you and you found yourself driving to the club close to closing time.

The interior, tacky red and orange lighting that gave you the feeling of entering Hell, glowed with an intimidating glare as you looked around for your husband. Music blared from the DJ booth. The bartender on duty gave you vague answers as to Javi's whereabouts, but Steve was there, nursing a glass of Stoli. He coolly informed you Javi was in his office, and you chose to ignore the wry little smile on his face.

The closer you got to his office in the back, the more muffled the music got. But that only served to make louder the pounding of your heart, booming in your ears.

Seeing him at his desk with a woman on her knees, bobbing her head up and down enthusiastically was not what you expected to find. You immediately ran away, tears streaming down your face as you went out the back alley, slumped against the wall, defeated and heartbroken. When Javi found you, apologizing and telling you she didn't mean anything to him, you pushed him away, cursed him, wanted to kill him.

But Javi was Javi, and despite the way he broke your heart so many times, you couldn't make yourself stop loving him. And so you made the choice to believe him, to hug him, to keep from leaving him.

You think about that night now that you're actually leaving him.

Like a bird with a broken wing you go straight to your parents' house, and they invite you in without a second thought, holding in their own 'I told you so's' until you repudiate Javier yourself, recounting every time he 'interviewed' for bottle girls, groped a waitress, or lied about any little thing. You shine the light on his villainy, and in your hurt and angst, it feels good. You leave out the parts about the illegal activities.. it's already too much to tell them of his more hurtful iniquities.

"He never deserved you, sweetheart, I knew it from the beginning," your father says to comfort you.

"He made a pass at me last Thanksgiving," your younger sister says.

"He made a pass at me on Mother's Day," your mom says.

You shake your head, hating everything that you're hearing. But you force yourself to face the facts you've been avoiding for so long.

Your dad and brother go with you to get your things, providing a buffer between you and Javier, who's begging you to come back. He looks bedraggled, unshaven and unkempt, so unlike the put-together man you've come to know. You don't have the heart to meet his eyes, only gaining some satisfaction when your brother shields you from him while your dad helps carry your stuff out to his truck. It's the only bright spot in your day when they threaten to beat the ever-loving shit out of him if he dares to come near you again. You've never seen Javier scared until that moment.

You're so strong, your family commends you as you as you find a small place to rent, making your split official.

Your first night alone, after your sister has left and you're tidying up, putting away the washed wine glasses, you remember Dave.

In all the hubbub of the messy end of your marriage, you think of the divorce attorney, and you grab his card from your purse.

David L. York, Divorce & Family Law

The next morning you call and are put through to his direct line. Hearing his voice over the phone, so professional and yet warm, brings you back to that day you met him, and you feel a sensation of butterflies in your stomach.

"It's me," you give him your name and he remembers you immediately, bringing a smile to your face for the first time in days.

"I've been by a few times for coffee but I haven't seen you there," he says with some concern, and the butterflies multiply when you realize he'd actually sought you out.

"I've been busy," you make a lame excuse. "And not feeling very well."

"Oh," he replies. "Which is it? Busy or not feeling well?" he teases.

"Considering what I'm about to tell you.. both."

"What's going on? What can I do for you?" he asks, as if he'd do anything at all you ask.

"Oh, I heard you handle divorces. And I'd like to hire you to do mine."

dividers by @strangergraphics & @saradika-graphics 👑

taglist: @penascigarette @joelalorian @la-vie-est-une-fleur29

@darkheartgatita @speaktothehandpeasants @rav3n-pascal22

@vickie5446 @eviispunk @mrs-pedro-pascal @zascal

@sunnytuliptime @mysticsuitcasealmondwombat @joelmillerisapunk

@almostfoxglove @itwasntimethatdidit40 @604to647

@milla-frenchy @everybodylovedcontractors