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whocaresstillthelouvre · 1 month ago

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Does It Feel Like Christmas Now?

Pairing: Javi Gutiérrez x Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: Javi's not feeling too festive this year, his best friend Nic can't make his annual Christmas party... guess it's up to you to cheer up the handsome party host. Warnings: smut, fingering, 69, oral (m & f receiving), javi eats ass, cum eating, weed use, alcohol, muppet christmas carol, i just really want to touch javi's stomach, like this is just a bit of plot and story so that javi g can get his dick sucked. 🤷🏼‍♀️ Words: 3,600

Written for the lovely @beefrobeefcal Disaster Control challenge. Merry Christmas Beefy! I've LOVED getting to know you and partake in the unhinged with you. 💕🥩

Masterlist

🐻🐻🐻

Javi stands at the balcony lit in twinkling lights overlooking the ocean. Normally, this time of year fills him with joy, his mind dancing with the singing of the street corner choir, going home and getting warm by the fire. Because he knows it’s true wherever you find love it feels like Christmas.

But this December, a melancholy has settled over. His sweet reunion with his friend this year will not be happening.

He sighs and turns back to survey the scene of his staff setting up everything for his annual Christmas party. The ballroom of his mansion has been transformed into a winter wonderland. Enormous fir trees with their branches laden with shimmering ornaments and lights stand in each corner. Silver and gold tinsel drapes from the vaulted ceiling. Garlands of holly and ivy wind their way along the walls. Crystal chandeliers hang adorned with red velvet bows and clusters of mistletoe. Red and green spotlights dance along the marble dance floor. Well, at least all of his friends will have fun tonight.

How could he possibly enjoy his legendary Christmas soiree without Nic? For the past few years, Nicolas Cage has been the life of Javi’s annual yuletide bash. And now, with Nic all the way back home in Hollywood filming the newest installment of Cage Chronicles there was just no way he could make his way to Majorca.

It doesn’t feel like Christmas.

—-

“What in the world?” you ask, mouth agape at the sight ahead of you. A palatial estate lays ahead of you as your friend Clara navigates the winding driveway. “How the hell did you work this invite out?”

Clara flashes a mischievous grin as she pulls the tiny Fiat up to the valet. “Let’s just say I have connections in high places,” she says with a wink.

“So, that guy you’ve been seeing?” you ask as the valet in a crisp red uniform opens your door.

“Yep,” she responds, punctuating the p. “It’s his cousin Javi’s party. Come on now, let’s get fucked up.”

Soft strains of “White Christmas” drift from inside as you approach the grand entrance. The massive oak doors swing open, revealing a scene that looks straight out of a Christmas movie. Your eyes widen as you take in everything before you. A waiter approaches with a tray of champagne flutes. You take one, the bubbles tickling your nose as you sip the crisp and obviously expensive champagne.

"Holy shit," you whisper to Clara. "This is insane.”

Clara tugs at your arm, pulling you towards a room where the music grows louder. As you enter the ballroom, your jaw drops at the spectacle ahead of you. Beautiful people all clad in beautiful outfits and jewels talk, laugh, and dance as a live band plays.

You scan the room, trying to take it all in. Your eyes landing on a man standing alone near one of the enormous Christmas trees. He’s impeccably dressed with a charming smile on his face, but there’s something melancholic that lines his features. He’s the most handsome man you’ve ever seen.

His dark hair is slicked back, his broad body clad under a tailored suit, his deep brown eyes survey the room—until they settle on you.

With a slight nod of his head, he raises his champagne glass in a greeting before taking a sip. His gaze intensifies as it travels up your body. And just as you feel the heat of his gaze land on your eyes, Clara pulls you away.

“Come on, Alejandro’s outside,” she shouts over the band.

You follow her reluctantly, feeling the handsome stranger’s eyes on you as you move to the breath-taking veranda.

Clara squeals with delight as she spots Alejandro, she thrusts her drink in your hand before rushing over to plant a kiss on his cheek. You stay behind, feeling slightly out of place.

You take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of pine and salty sea air as Clara and Alejandro chat animatedly. You love Clara, she’s your closest friend in your college’s abroad program, but she’s much more of a social butterfly than you are… especially when it comes to men.

You can already tell it’s going to be another night of you standing alone in a pretty dress while Clara has all of the fun. You guzzle down the rest of your champagne before starting on Clara’s flute.

The breeze chills your skin… someone really should have warned you about the chill that blows off the Mediterranean Sea in December. The velvet of your short, red dress does nothing to warm you. At least the party inside looks warm.

"I’m going to get a refill,” you announce to the two lovebirds enamored with each other. swallowing down the rest of your champagne.

“Have fun!” Clara giggles as Alejandro nuzzles against her neck.

Weaving through all of the sequins and tuxedos, you spot a waiter and snag another flute of champagne, downing half of it in one gulp.

It’s too hectic in this fancy ballroom, Clara really got you with the promise of free booze. This mansion looks more like a castle… you wonder just how many rooms are in this place. Curiosity gets the best of you as you sneak off past the ballroom doors, your heels clicking against the polished marble floor of a long, dimly lit hallway. At the end of the hall, a door sits slightly ajar with a familiar song floating out of it.

A cup of kindness that we share with anotherA sweet reunion with a friend or a brotherIn all the places you find love, it feels like Christmas

The familiar lyrics of “It Feels Like Christmas” beckons you toward the dark room.

You peek inside, of course this mega mansion has a home theatre. A lone person silhouetted by the screen sits on a plush couch at the front.

The person turns at the sound of your heels, your eyes adjust to the darkness, before realizing it’s the handsome man from earlier. His eyes widen slightly in recognition.

“I’m sorry, “ you stammer, suddenly feeling quite foolish. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I—the party was just a lot.”

He smiles warmly, the sadness in his eyes lifting slightly. “No—no need to apologize. Please, join if you’d like, I could use the company,” he says, his voice deep and accented. Of course his accent would be just as beautiful as him.

You make your way down the aisle before settling on the seat next to him. He sits up straighter, his jacket discarded and his tie loosened.

“A classic,” you quietly say.

He nods, his eyes fixed on the screen. “It’s mine and Nic’s favorite. We’d watch it every year after the party.” “Nic?” you ask, your curiosity piqued.

He chuckles softly. “Nicolas Cage. He’s usually the life of this party, but this year he couldn't make it," he explains with a wistful tone in his voice.

Your eyes widen in surprise. "Nicolas Cage? As in, the actor? Like—as in Spider-Noir or ‘NOT THE BEEEEES!‘ Nic Cage?”

He nods, a fond smile playing on his lips. “Yes. He is one of my closest friends. This party just doesn’t feel the same without him.”

You’re stunned into silence, processing the surprise revelation. “He’s my favorite actor.”

“He’s mine too,” he says, turning to you, his eyes glistening with a wide smile across his face, you notice a deep dimple on his cheek. You can’t stop thinking about what it would feel like to dip your tongue in the divot of it. “I’m Javi,” he says, extending his hand towards you.

You give him your name, shaking his hand. His large hand engulfs yours with a firm, warm grip.

“You certainly know how to throw a great party out there Javi.”

He nods with a hum of agreement.

“Did you want a drink?” he asks.

You nod, grateful for the offer. “That sounds lovely, thank you.” Javi stands, moving to a small bar tucked in the corner and pours two lowball glasses with amber liquid.

“I hope whiskey is alright,” he says, handing you one of the glasses.

You take a sip, the smoky flavor warming you from the inside out. "It's perfect," you reply, settling back into the plush seat.

As the movie plays on, you find yourself relaxing, the whiskey and Javi's presence melting away the awkwardness you felt earlier. Javi lights up a joint, and offers it to you, which you gratefully accept and take a hit.

Of course it’s good weed, so good, you have a bit of a coughing fit after your first inhale.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his hand coming up to rest on your back, running soothing lines up and down it. “Your dress is so soft.”

His touch both heats and soothes your body, even more than the whiskey and weed.

His hand stays on your back, still running slightly up and down your dress as the two of you laugh at the antics of Gonzo and Rizzo, recite lines along with the Muppets, and hum softly to the familiar songs.

Javi seems to cheer up, his earlier melancholy fading as he laughs along with you and shares stories about watching it with Nic.

Rizzo and Gonzo disguise themselves as busts.

“This is my favorite part,” you smile.

You feel Javi’s eyes on you instead of the screen, his gaze intense, filled with something you can’t quite sense. You feel heat creep up your neck as you look at him.

"You have a beautiful smile,” he says softly.

You lean closer, he smells of sandalwood and citrus.

“I like your smile too,” you say, earning an adoring smile from him.

He moves his hand, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you closer, shocking you as you try to calm your now racing heart.

You steal glances of Javi throughout the movie, the soft glow from the screen lighting his profile. You follow the strong line of his jaw and the curve of his plush lips up to his sharp nose.

Scrooge begins his transformation from miser to charitable hero, but you find it increasingly difficult to focus on the story. Javi’s fingers trace lazy circles on the bare skin of your arm, before they move to the nape of your neck, massaging the sensitive skin there.

You shift slightly in your seat, pressing closer to Javi and letting out a soft moan as his thumb brushes against your collarbone.

The liquor, his touch, and his handsome face drives you wild.

The credits roll, your heart drops as he pulls his arm away. He turns to you, his eyes dark. “This has been fun, thanks for keeping me company.”

His voice is deep, his big, brown eyes roam your face. Your mouth opens, your tongue darting out to lick your lips, trying to figure out what to say to keep him here with you. He leans in closer, his eyes flickering to your lips. His warm breath hits your skin, smelling of whiskey, weed, and mint.

His hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin. You lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed as his lips meet yours.

His lips are soft, his kiss is sweet. He pulls you closer as his tongue traces the seam of your lips. You part your lips with a soft gasp, tasting the whiskey and peppermint that lingers on his tongue. His hand slides down your back, gripping your ass and scooting you into his lap. You eagerly climb atop him and moan into his mouth, your fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt.

He nips at your bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue, you return the favor earning a low growl from Javi that vibrates against your lips.

You part for air, both of you breathing heavily.

Javi rests his forehead against yours, his eyes dark as they meet yours. “Would you like to continue this evening—maybe somewhere more private?”

Your breath catches in your throat as you nod, unable to find the words. Javi stands, offering his hand to help you up. He leads you out of the theatre and through winding corridors, the sounds of the party grows fainter.

You ascend a grand staircase, your fingers intertwined with his. Ornate oil paintings and gilded mirrors line the walls. You can’t believe you’re doing this, but when a man who looks like Javi offers you a more private place to take you to, you say yes.

He stops before an intricately carved mahogany door, fishing a key from his pocket. The lock clicks open, and Javi ushers you inside with a gentle hand on the small of your back.

You gasp as you enter. The room is enormous, easily the size of your entire apartment. A massive four-poster bed dominates one wall, draped in rich fabric. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer a breathtaking view of the moonlit ocean.

“Oh my god, Javi, this is gorgeous.”

He smiles warmly at you.

"You know, I wasn't sure I'd enjoy tonight at all. But you've made this evening so much brighter. Thank you for that." He steps closer, his hand cupping your cheek. "I'd like to show my appreciation, if you'll let me."

He leans in, his lips barely brushing yours. “How would you like to do that?” you whisper.

His brown eyes darken. "I want to taste you," he growls, his accent thicker with arousal.

You nod, unable to speak.

Javi starts to guide you towards the bed, but then pauses. "Oh, one moment," he says, moving to his dresser.

You watch, puzzled, as he gently turns around a stuffed Paddington Bear plush perched there. "Wouldn't want him to see," Javi explains with a playful wink.

You giggle as Javi’s hands slide to your waist. “Now where were we?” he asks, his hands sliding to your hips and pulling you flush against his body. His kiss makes you melt into him, your arms wrapping around his neck.

His hands find the zipper of your dress and slowly lowers it, the cool breeze from the windows hits your skin as the fabric pools at your feet. His warm palms slide up to trace the lace edge of your bra.

He guides you backwards until your legs hit the bed, he eases you down onto the silky sheets, your skin sliding easily as you scoot back, resting your head on the mountain of pillows as he crawls over you.

His lips trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. You arch into him as he lavishes attention on your collarbone, nipping and sucking. His stubble scratches deliciously against your sensitive skin.

He makes quick work of your bra clasp before he slowly peels the lace away, revealing your breasts to his hungry gaze.

A needy whimper escapes you as he takes one hardened peak into his mouth. His tongue swirls around your nipple as his hand kneads your other breast.

Carding your fingers through his soft, thick hair, you moan his name as he switches his attention to your other breast, worshipping it with the same dedication.

His lips continue their journey down your body, pressing feather-light kisses across your ribcage and stomach. Your hips buck involuntarily as he nips at the sensitive skin below your navel.

Javi hooks his fingers in the waistband of your panties, looking up at you with a silent question in his eyes. You nod eagerly, lifting your hips to help him slide the lace down your legs.

He settles between your thighs, his hot breath fanning over your pussy already wet for him. You tremble as he places a tender kiss on your inner thigh.

"Relax, mi amor," Javi murmurs. "Let me take care of you."

Your head hits the pillow, a long groan escaping your lips when he first tastes you. He laps at you with long, broad strokes before sealing his mouth over your clit. Your fingers tangle in the silky sheets as he sucks and flicks his tongue in maddening patterns.

A thick finger slips inside you, his tongue on your clit and his finger pumping in and out already has your legs trembling.

Your back arches off the bed as Javi works you. His free hand grips your thigh, holding you steady as you begin to shake.

"Javi," you gasp, your voice breathy and desperate. "I'm so close."

He hums against you, before pulling away, his handsome face slick with your wet. He smiles his devilish smile.

“I love doing this, you taste so good.”

He stretches you with another finger and curls both up, as he slowly fucks you, slow and deliberate, dragging in and out, driving you crazy.

With a long, deep swirl of his tongue, you cry out Javi's name. Your fingers and toes curl while your heart shatters against your chest. Your orgasm pulses through you, your body feels like it’s floating above the obviously expensive silk sheets. Javi gently swirls and laps his tongue all over your pulsing pussy until you become too sensitive.

“S-s-stop, t-too much, oh my god,” you stutter, your body quaking from his attention.

Javi chuckles against you before pressing soft kisses to your inner thighs as you come down from your high. He moves back up your body, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, imparting your taste against your lips.

His still-clothed body covers your naked body on his bed. Your fingers move clumsily, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, eager to feel his bare skin against yours.

He breaks the kiss, chuckling softly. “Patience, mi amor,” he whispers, sitting back on his haunches and unbuttoning the rest of his shirt. You watch, mesmerized, as he reveals his tanned, toned chest and plush belly. He tosses his shirt aside, your hands immediately run over his smooth skin, reveling in the way he twitches under your touch. Your hands run down to the waistband of his dress pants.

“Off,” you say, tugging at his belt. He chuckles, quickly unbuckling and removing his pants and boxers.

He’s gorgeous, your eyes widen as you take in the sight of him. His thick cock lays hard against his stomach, already leaking for you. Wrapping your hand around him and stroking him lightly, a groan escapes his lips, his hips bucking into your touch.

You want him in your mouth, you want to know what he tastes like. You sit up, pushing him onto his back. “I want to taste you too.”

He groans. “Yes, mi amor. Come here,” he says, pulling you to straddle his face in reverse.

Leaning forward and bracing yourself on his thick thighs, you lower your mouth to his cock and lick a long stripe up his wide shaft. He moans, the vibrations tickling against your folds as he begins to devour you.

He’s velvety smooth in your mouth, hard and musky. His hips twitching as you suck against his head before taking him down your throat.

Javi licks and sucks against your clit, his fingers sliding in and out of your pussy, earning moans around his cock. You relax your throat, taking him even deeper as his fingers pump faster inside you.

He grips your ass, kneading the flesh as he devours you. Your orgasm shows itself again, your core and body coiling tighter with each swirl of his tongue.

Javi’s cock twitches in your mouth as you bob your head faster, hollowing your cheeks to suck him harder. His hips moving in shallow thrusts as he fucks your mouth.

“Close,” he grits as you cry around his cock, he slips his fingers out of you. His strong hands knead and spread your ass cheeks, exposing you fully to his hungry mouth. You gasp around his cock as his tongue draws a path from your pussy to your ass. His tongue circles your puckered hole before dipping inside. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before—and you’re doing it with a gorgeous man who you just met at his lavish Christmas party.

Javi groans, the vibrations traveling through you as he works you with his mouth. His tongue darts from your clit to your entrance to your ass in an unpredictable pattern that leaves you dizzy. You're trembling, teetering on the edge of bliss.

"Javi," you whimper against his cock.

He groans, his grip tightens on your ass as his tongue delves deeper, pushing you over the precipice. You cry out around his cock, your body shaking as your second orgasm crashes over you. You suck him harder, taking him all the way down to your throat, choking on his length.

The sensation proves too much for him. With a deep groan, he pulses and spills into your mouth. You swallow around him, savoring his taste as he rides out his climax.

Spent and sated, you roll off of him, collapsing onto the plush mattress. Javi gathers you in his arms, pressing tender kisses to your forehead as you both catch your breath.

“So, does it feel like Christmas now?” you ask, snuggling closer to him, relishing the heat of his bare skin against yours. The distant sounds of the party drift in through the windows.

“Mm, it does,” Javi rumbles, capturing your wandering hand and bringing it to his lips to place a kiss across your knuckles.

#festive failure 2024 #pedro pascal #javi gutierrez #javi g x reader #javi gutierrez fic #javi gutierrez x you #javi gutierrez x reader #javi gutierrez fanfiction #the unbearable weight of massive talent #pedro pascal fanfiction #ppcu fanfiction #ppcu #javi g fic #javi g fanfic

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kaysfanficcorner · 6 days ago

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Movie Dates with a Stranger

Author's note: Just a quick little one shot about sweet Javi after a discussion with my best friend. She and Pedro are truly my two muses. If you dig this, please check out my other fics, Celebrity Crush (Dieter Bravo) and Out of This World (Din Djarin). More chapters of Out of this World are on *the way* soon!

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x reader

Summary: You go the movies every Saturday morning, and the same man is there every single time.

Warnings: none that I can think of other than how stinking cute this film nerd really is.

AO3

*****

When the company you work for announced that they were opening an office in Spain, you jumped at the chance to take a position there. Having always wanted an excuse to leave the country and coming off of a bad break up, it was as if the universe was giving you exactly what you needed exactly when you needed it.

You're finally feeling settled in your new city. You've even managed to find yourself a gorgeous little vintage movie theater so you can get back into your favorite hobby from back in the states. Going to the movies is your favorite pastime in the whole world, and it has been since before you can remember. In America, you would attend the movies at least once a week if not two or three depending on how many good releases were out in one weekend. You hadn't realized how much you missed it until the morning stroll when you managed to stumble upon the one-screen theater playing a new film you'd been dying to see.

Without further consideration you'd purchased a ticket and the rest was history. Every Saturday morning since you've gone to see whatever movie was out regardless of what it was. Some in Spanish, some in English, but none of that matters. You're in your happy place.

The fact that you always go to the first screening of the day means that there are usually very few people in the theater.

So you notice when the same man has been there with you for the last five films.

He's gorgeous in every sense of the word, which you really got to see up close the third time you came and he was in front of you in the line for the snack bar. Well dressed, his casual attire was certainly expensive looking so you assume he must have money. He's got the most adorable smile, his dark eyes wrinkling at the corners as his mouth forms a grin at the huge bucket of popcorn the worker handed him. He always gets popcorn, a cherry coke, and a box of peanut m&ms. He's had the same snack every time you've seen him.

His burnt caramel hair is curly and always well managed, definitely with some sort of boujee product. His cologne smells like heaven when you catch a good whiff of it. He'd turned with all of his treats in hand, smiling down at you and telling you to enjoy the film with such genuine enthusiasm you hadn't been able to hold back your own wide grin at him. As he moved past you to allow you your turn in line, the scent of him nearly made you moan out loud. His voice had also been one of the loveliest sounds you'd ever heard.

In other circumstances, the thought of a strange man appearing at the movie theater five weeks in a row would freak you out. Are you being stalked? A naive American being scoped out for kidnapping or murder?

No, that's not the vibe you get from him at all. If you had to pinpoint the vibe you do get, it's that he's a fucking nerd. This guy adores film, just like you do. He'll obviously see everything. In the last five weeks the two of you have watched two action movies, one drama, one boner-comedy, and one romantic comedy. Not all of them were good, but your movie theater buddy seemed to watch all of them with the same level of reverence. He even turned around after the second action film, the fourth time you'd been in the theater with this stranger, and gave you an enthusiastic little grin and a thumbs up.

“That was fucking awesome, wasn't it?!” he'd whisper yelled to you.

That had made your heart skip a beat, whisper-yelling back in the affirmative.

The fifth movie was when you realized how much you were looking forward to seeing your stranger. That entire morning you'd had a giddy little smile on your face, picking out one of your cutest and most flattering casual dresses with a pair of heeled boots to match. You'd even gone so far as to do your hair and make up, when the first couple of weeks you'd gone for a more bum-chic look with sweatpants and a hoodie.

It was halfway through applying your mascara when it hit you that you like your film-nerd stranger. Seeing him every Saturday has been the highlight of your free time in Spain so far. Living so far away from everyone you've ever known has been lonely, and this handsome fellow at the movies has been the closest thing to a real social interaction outside of work since you moved here.

You're certain that you'd noticed his reaction to a more dressed up version of yourself, purposefully sitting one row in front of him so that he had no choice but to see you. His eyes had widened before a little shy smile crept up his lips, you'd seen it out of the corner of your eye before sitting down with a little smile of your own.

Now it's the sixth week, and the first horror movie. Horror is one of your favorite genres, and this one has been getting rave reviews for the last couple of weeks. Critics are calling it the horror film of the year and audiences are calling it the most frightening movie of the decade. Needless to say you are chomping at the bit for this one.

With an appropriately spooky and equally flattering outfit, and a makeup look complimenting the vibe of the film you're about to see, you feel like you truly look your best upon entering the theater lobby on that Saturday morning. On instinct your eyes flick around the large room, on the lookout for your stranger among the movie posters and popcorn.

You don't see him anywhere and your heart sinks a little, but you try not to lose hope. You're aware that it's quite possible that he's going to eventually skip a Saturday or there may be a movie that doesn't interest him after all.

Making your way over to the snack bar, you grin and wave at the same teenage girl who has greeted you from behind the counter every weekend. The same crew works the same shift each time you're there so you've become a little friendly in your snack bar encounters.

Knowing your Spanish isn't perfect, you try your best to order a soda and nachos in the language of the country you're in, and a cheerful voice from behind you makes you jump when you're finished.

“Your accent is getting much better.”

You spin around to find him standing behind you, that kind smile of his reaching all the way up to his eyes. He's dressed in a dark brown pair of slacks with a tan t-shirt and a dark purple corduroy jacket. His hair is perfect and he looks almost as if he's the one who was trying to dress his best this week.

You can feel a blush rush to your cheeks, avoiding his gaze as you give an awkward little, “Gracias.”

So he'd been paying attention to you just as much as you'd been paying attention to him? Lord have mercy.

He doesn't say more, just smiles that adorable smile of his as you grab your snacks and leave him to order his usual. You quickly make your way to your seat then, opting for the one you usually take that sits two rows behind the handsome stranger. He takes the same exact seat every week and you'd certainly noticed that as well.

Right on time he comes in and takes his seat, eyes flicking to you for a moment before he sits down. You smile broadly at him, and a shy little look takes over his features as he turns to face the screen. No one else shows up to this screening. The trailers run and your stomach flutters when you realize that the two of you will be here alone for the very first time.

You try not to pay attention to him when the lights begin to dim and the title card of the movie appears on the screen. You try not to watch the back of his head as he happily shoves popcorn into his mouth, attempting to focus on the movie you've been dying to see since they first announced its conception on some movie news site years ago.

Eventually the eerie tension of the film and the characters start to draw you in, your attention finally in the right place. And then a brilliantly laid out jump scare actually manages to get you, and you notice a bit of popcorn flying into the air over at your stranger's seat. Another comes shortly after that, and the stranger gets up from his seat completely. Your eyebrows raise, trying to keep your eyeballs glued to the screen. But then you feel a presence come right up beside you, and you turn to see your stranger standing right there. Your heart leaps in your chest as he slips into the seat right beside you and sends an apologetic look your way.

“I am so sorry to intrude, and I hate to look like a total pussy in front of a beautiful woman, but I am so fucking scared of this movie. Is it alright if I sit with you?” he whispers over, despite the fact that no one else is in the room but you. His accent is so cute that it's killing you not to giggle.

“Sure, I was honestly getting a little scared of it myself,” you whisper back, hoping to reassure him a little.

“Gracias,” he says with a bow of the head before turning his attention back to the film.

The presence of him next to you is driving you mad throughout the next few scenes, but you're completely elated by the fact that he's so close now. Close enough to smell that cologne again, for your forearm to brush his on the armrest.

Another scare comes, and the stranger's little yelp of surprise beside you causes the giddiest of grins to tug at your lips. When another comes again shortly after, his hand grabs for yours.

“Sorry!” he whisper-yells, letting you go just as quickly as he'd grabbed you. He looks so embarrassed.

Feeling brave, you reach over and take his hand in yours. He lets you touch him with ease, fingers of both hands intertwining with each other. His hand is so much bigger than yours.

“If this helps you feel less scared I really don't mind,” you whisper back, eyes on the screen once again. He doesn't say anything else.

Each time the movie scares your stranger, his fingers dig into your hand with varying levels of pressure. At one point you catch yourself tracing little circles into his skin with your thumb, and he's actually doing it back. That makes you melt into the seat a little.

Sooner than you'd like it feels like the climax of the film is wrapping up in a mess of blood and guts, and shortly after that the film is over all together. The credits start rolling and the house lights come back on. You're expecting your stranger to let go of you, but to your shock he lifts your connected hands and places a chaste kiss on the back of your hand. Then he lets go.

“Thank you for keeping me company during that. I am forever in your debt,” he says, adding shyly, “Horror movies always scare the shit out of me. Even the bad ones.”

“Well they weren't kidding when they said that was the scariest movie of the decade online. I was just as scared as you! And usually I can handle things like that. Proud of you for making it through that with me,” you say, adding an introduction as you give him your name.

“I am Javi,” he says with a grin, “I'm glad to finally meet you after all these weeks.”

“Likewise. It's nice to know another movie enthusiast,” you agree.

The two of you gather your things, heading back out to the lobby while discussing the finer points of the film you both just saw. When you part ways to both use the restroom, you're thrilled to find him waiting for you just outside as you reemerge.

Javi extends an elbow towards you. “Would you like to go get a cup of coffee? I have so much more to say about that movie, I probably need at least another hour to get it all out!”

A giggle finds your voice, a hand coming to your lips for a second before you're looping your arm through his and he's leading you out of the theater and down the street.

You start the conversation back up, leaning into him a little as you walk. “I cannot believe that the lead actress did such a good job! I honestly wasn't expecting such a performance from her based on the other movies of hers that I've seen.”

“Oh my God, I know! I was really shocked by how good she was, and the things that poor girl had to do! It must have been so fun to shoot that stuff.”

When the following Saturday morning rolls around, you cannot wait to jump out of bed to start your day. It will be the seventh straight week of going to the movies with Javi Gutierrez, but it's going to be your first real date.

*****

Masterlist

#pedro pascal #javi gutierrez #javi x reader #javi gutierrez x you #javi gutierrez x reader #javi gutierrez fic #javi gutierrez fanfiction #pedro pascal character x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfic #the unbearable weight of massive talent #javi is a sweet movie nerd and i love him for it

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jesse-pinko · 14 days ago

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I have to believe that at some point Flynn and Marie stopped blaming Skyler for covering for Walt and recognized her as a victim of horrific abuse and rallied behind her in support. Ummm or I’ll die

#i think this is tentatively canon w flynn shielding her from walt and Marie calling to warn her ab him #but every time i read a fic where either of them barely speak to her anymore it is literally unbearable to me #to think of him successfully isolating her from beyond the grave it’s intolerable #breaking bad #brba #skyler white #flynn white #marie schrader #abuse tw

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flightlessangelwings · 4 months ago

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FawKtober 2024 Part 1- Javi Gutierrez

Javi Gutierrez x gn!reader

Kinks- Fingering, slow and soft

Word count- 814

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), soft and fluffy, praise, no plot, pet names, no description of reader, no use of y/n

Notes- Starting off kinktober with some slow and softness with our dear sweet Javi!! Enjoy!!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please follow that and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on new things!

“Corazon, you are so beautiful,” Javi murmured in your ear.

“Ja…vi…” you panted as your body felt like an inferno.

“That’s it mi amor,” he moaned, “So beautiful…”

Javi’s fingers were buried deep inside you, feeling your warmth engulf him. You both laid completely naked on his bed while he held you in his strong grip with his other arm. Moonlight illuminated the room through the open window, and it framed your bodies perfectly. Javi’s breath hitched in his throat as he watched you squirm in his embrace as the low light of the moon made you look like an angel.

“Beautiful,” he whispered again as he pumped two fingers slowly, taking his time.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you surrendered yourself to how good his thick fingers felt inside of you. Even with the slow pace, Javi’s movements still drove you wild and you felt the heat build from within you. All you could do was moan and whimper with every thrust of his fingers.

“Feels so good, Javi,” you moaned as you arched your back.

“You feel so good, amor,” he groaned back as he placed a feather light kiss on your temple.

Your mind swam in bliss as he took his time to feel you. With every thrust of his fingers, Javi lingered inside you for several long moments. He groaned in your ear as your inner muscles squeezed his fingers. Every deep breath you took made you tighten around him.

Javi kept his eyes fixed on you. He watched as your chest rose and fell with every gasp and deep breath you took. He watched as your mouth dropped open to let out a cry of pleasure every time his fingers buried themselves inside you once more. He listened as your moans filled the room, sending a pulse to his cock every time.

But his own pleasure would wait. For now, Javi took great pride in how much he pleased you. He almost felt as if fingering you genuinely gave him pleasure as well.

“That’s it, amor,” he purred as he pumped his fingers in a slow yet steady rhythm, “Do not hold back.”

Letting yourself go, you cried out loudly as Javi continued to whisper encouragement in your ear. “Javi…” you whimpered in between gasps.

“I know,” he kissed the side of your face tenderly, “I got you.”

You bucked your hips in time with his thrusts as Javi pumped his fingers in and out of you. He was in no rush, though. He took his time, slowly thrusting and withdrawing his fingers as he watched you writhe in pleasure.

“You look like an angel in the moonlight, mi amor,” Javi murmured as he studied your every expression.

You barely even heard him over your own moans. With every thrust of his fingers, Javi brought you more and more pleasure. You drowned in the sea of bliss as you rocked your hips on the bed.

“Javi… Please…” you begged, unsure of what you negged for exactly.

Leaning over, Javi took your lips with his in a slow yet passionate kiss. He buried his fingers as deep inside you as he possibly could, stilling his body so that his tongue could dance with yours.

“Do you want to cum, amor?” he asked with a grin.

“Yes,” you breathed as your eyes fluttered open to see Javi in the moonlight, “Fuck…” he was so beautiful it took your breath away.

“I want that too,” he replied as he pumped his fingers in and out of you once more.

You cried out again as he picked up his pace only slightly. It was enough to edge you closer to your goal, but not push you over just yet. Javi both wanted you to cum and didn’t want this to end at the same time. So, he found a middle ground as he continued to finger you to his satisfaction.

“Javi…” you moaned.

He whispered your name as he stayed fixated on your body, “Mi amor.”

Feeling the heat building your body as Javi hit that sweets spot over and over again, you felt tears fill the corners of your eyes. “Fuck… Javi, I’m close…”

“Show me how beautiful you are when you cum, mi amor,” Javi purred.

“Javi… I love you…” you whimpered just before you climax hit as you came hard on his hand. You gushed into his hand as his thick fingers gilded you through your orgasm. He kept his steady pace until your moans turned to whimpers as you flopped flat on the bed.

Carefully, Javi pulled his fingers out of you, pleasing a series of feather light kisses all over your face as he did so, “Beautiful,” he whispered as he gathered you in his arms, “I love you so much, mi amor.”

You sighed contently as you turned to your side and settled safely in Javi’s arms.

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malk1ns · 1 month ago

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december 23 vs flyers, 7-3 win

they're disgusting. and then the kid's skate the next day? ugh.

a continuation of this one.

Sometimes, Trina wonders exactly how she got here.

She and Troy had Sidney too young. He wasn’t an accident exactly, but she certainly wouldn’t classify him as planned, either. It was more…they were young, and reckless, and not great at thinking ahead.

Those first years were so hard. They were lucky, Trina knows—they both have big, supportive families, and their lives never got so dire that they were worried about affording food and shelter, but…it wasn’t exactly easy. There were a lot of dreams they both put aside, a lot of things neither of them got to do, because they had to grow up faster than they ever planned.

And then Sidney put on skates for the first time, and in what felt like the blink of an eye he grew from a toddler with a stick too big for him doing his best to fall in the direction of the puck to an Olympic medalist, a Stanley Cup champion, a captain, a role model, an icon.

It’s surreal, is the point. Trina wouldn’t be surprised to wake up one day and discover the whole thing had been some sort of fever dream, one of those half-lucid ones you get when you drank too much and your body is trying to process out the alcohol as you sleep.

Trina’s life has already taken her places she’d never dreamed of going when she was a teenager sneaking off to park with handsome Troy Crosby at Citadel Hill. That’s probably why it was so easy for her to see what’s going on with Sidney and Geno—when your life is already filled with the impossible, what’s one more thing you never could have predicted?

Sidney had excellent media training. He can put on a poker face with the hordes of reporters that swarm him everywhere he goes and say so many words without revealing a single thing—Trina’s watched enough of his media to know just how good he is at evading.

He’s never been able to lie to her, though. And lord knows did he ever try, especially when he was a teenager. But even when he was living hundreds of miles from home, Trina always knew when he was fibbing to her, even if it was over the phone.

It doesn’t seem like he’s even trying very hard, when she and Troy come over just as Geno’s leaving, face creased and hair messy like he’d been asleep—or at the very least in bed.

She could push it, probably. She almost does when it happens a second time. Sidney looks skittish, though, stiff in her arms when she hugs him and practically green when he’s talking to Troy, so she drops it.

She’s so glad that Natalia picked up on it too, though, that someone else knows. Troy wouldn’t notice his son embarking on a romantic relationship if it were happening right in front of him, and from what Natalia’s said, Vladimir Malkin is much the same.

Watching the way Sidney smiles at Geno after his goal, though, Trina wonders how anyone is missing this. Expectations provide one hell of a cover-up, she supposes.

She’s resolved not to say a word to Sidney until he brings it up himself. He’d caved within seconds when she suggested they invite the Malkins over for Christmas dinner, but even Trina’s heavy-handed references to “family dinner” hadn’t unsealed his lips, so she didn’t push any further.

Trina almost breaks that promise to herself, though, at kid’s skate the day after the Flyers game.

Nikita is just about the cutest little boy Trina’s ever met, barring Sidney himself of course. He’s got his mother’s fine features and his father’s big eyes, and he’s simultaneously outgoing and silly but still shy enough to hide behind Geno’s legs when he’s around people he doesn’t know well.

He warms up to Trina and Troy quickly, though, playing keep-away with Troy and giggling madly when Troy pretends to lunge at the puck and miss by a wide margin, letting Nikita dart away towards the net.

Trina’s laughter dies off when she looks over at where Sidney and Geno are watching a few yards away. They’re tucked into each other’s sides, almost like they don’t realize how close they’re standing, and Geno looks misty, an expression Trina recognizes from her own face after years of watching her son grow up before her eyes. She hadn’t expected to see a similar expression on Sidney’s face, though.

Sidney’s a part of Nikita’s life, not a parent of course, but something closer than an uncle. It’s so clear, so obvious, that Trina wonders how long exactly this has been in the works. Geno was married, and Sidney had Kathy, but something like this doesn’t establish itself overnight.

They’re already a family. Have been, probably, for years.

Living under expectations can blind more than just onlookers, it appears. Trina’s just glad they opened their eyes before it was too late.

#imagine being THAT fond of someone still after as much time as they've spent together.#unbearable!#sidgeno #hockey rpf #my writing #my fic #24-25 series

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tigerf00d · 1 year ago

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So I definitely have a Part 2 planned for unbearable! I’m working on a request & then I’ll get right on that. Thank you to everyone who’s left kind words!! They mean the world to me :D

#Ti Talkies #lockwood & co #lockwood and co #george karim x reader #unbearable fic #update :)

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umgeorge · 4 months ago

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george russell, p3, and oscar piastri, p1, celebrate on the podium, azerbaijan - september 15, 2024

#i fear i'm becoming unbearably Fond of them #george russell #oscar piastri #f1 #formula 1 #baku gp 2024 #fic ref #fic ref 2024 #baku #baku 2024 #baku 2024 sunday #mohammed ben sulayem

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prolix-yuy · 1 year ago

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A Gift of Light and Joy

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x F!Reader "Conejita" (Plus Sized Reader)

Summary: Javi wants to spoil you, but his good intentions put you in a difficult position.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), unprotected PiV sex (don't be a fool, wrap your tool), cumming on someone, minor cum play, negative body image, toxic shopping culture, some angst, Javi is clueless about women's clothes shopping but he makes up for it.

Notes: Happiest of happy birthdays to my darling, my sweet friend, the indescribable @ezrasbirdie! I was planning to post this around November but I couldn't pass up a chance to give you a fun little Javi present. I am so lucky to know you and get to yell about stories together!

While in the two previous stories Conejita wasn't described as plus sized, I always headcanoned that she was from the start. There are a couple references to the previous stories, but you can also dive in right here! Like most stories this is me working through a few bad experiences of my own, and while Javi may be a little thick in the beginning he will get to make up for it.

Cross-posted on AO3

Continued from On the Right Flight and A Bearable Weight

“I have a surprise for today.”

Javi’s gleeful face ramps up your own excitement as he ushers you into his car.

“I thought we were going to have a picnic?” you ask as he flops into the drivers seat, curls bouncing almost as much as he is.

“That was my distraction,” he says, picking up your hand and kissing the back of it. Your heart still flutters, even months after that first one at the stroke of midnight.

Dating Javi had, of course, been just as much of a step off the deep end as you thought. Even being close by now that you’re back in LA for work and he’s hobnobbing with the Hollywood elites, some days getting dinner feels like making a doctor’s appointment. Matching schedules down to the half hour, groaning when something comes up. But it’s all worth it when the stars align and he’s on your doorstep with all-encompassing hugs and breathless kisses.

At first Javi’s dates were low-key and low-stress - a day at the beach, movie nights of course - but as you got closer and closer he started to take you places that had dress codes and extravagant names. He always beamed like you were the only one in the room, but you’d been in enough spaces you didn’t belong to feel eyes and judgements skitter across your back.

You could be poised, and knowledgeable, conversational and charming, but nothing changed how you looked. Javi was always dripping in Armani, Burberry, Brioni. Your paltry wardrobe didn’t stand a chance. Every new art show or movie premiere sent you running to a department store to find a new dress (pretty girls on their rich boyfriend’s arm didn’t reuse eveningwear) and inevitably you’d be pinched or poked or squeezed into something not made for you. Long minutes spent in the bathroom wondering if Javi would notice the bra strap divot in your shoulder, or the dark lines of seams pressed along your skin. Pretending you enjoyed slipping into a silk robe every time you spent the night was more palatable than the embarrassment of wriggling out of shapewear in front of him, or refusing to let him undress you in case a zipper pulled too tightly.

Unfortunately, you didn’t hide your discomfort as well as you imagined. Sometimes you caught Javi’s concerned look when the built-in corset made you squirm in your seat, or when you winced at the chafe of your heels.

So when he parks his car on Rodeo Drive he’s the picture of pride and sunshine. You, on the other hand, leave your stomach on the sidewalk behind you.

“I wanted to do something special,” he’s saying, muffled words bubbling up as your feet trudge to a gleaming glass door. There’s security inside, sales people scattered around holding hangers up to discerning buyers. “And before you say anything about money, I don’t want you to look at a single price tag.” Javi turns your face to him with a gentle nudge, breaking your doom stare through the glass. “I want to spoil you a little. You never let me spoil you.” His pout brings a little smile to your face, dipping in to kiss him.

“We can do anything Javi. I don’t need things,” you try to deflect, hoping you can convince him away from the inevitable rejection you’ll receive inside.

“Just one time?” he asks again, soft brown eyes imploring you. How could you say no?

“Okay,” you breathe out, steeling yourself for the worst as Javi beams back at you.

“I thought this place would match what you like,” he says as two suited doormen guide you inside. It flutters your heart. He’s right, you’ve always liked this designer’s silhouettes and styles. It’s exactly what you’d choose…if you were several sizes smaller.

“Hi, do you have an appointment?” a small-framed woman with black plastic glasses and a bouncy ponytail asks. She’s dressed head to toe in the designer’s current collection, sleek black throughout with stylish red earrings that dangle down her neck. Her smile isn’t as cold as you might expect. You’d heard horror stories of snide sales people practically insulting clients to get them to spend more.

“Yes, Gutierrez,” Javi offers smoothly, placing a grounding hand on your lower back. “For my girlfriend.” You shoot him a lopsided smile. He doesn’t get the chance to say it often, but when he does you love the way girlfriend rolls off his supple lips.

“Ah, yes, miss…” the sales woman begins, letting you offer your name. You catch a fleeting look of concern cross her face. Her cheek sucks in like she’s chewing on it, smile still bright but eyes more cautious.

“My name is Melanie, if you’d like to follow me to your consultation space,” she says, leading you and Javi to a curtained-off partition with several chairs, a changing room and a pedestal that makes your stomach flip.

“So what are you here to find today?” Melanie asks. Javi settles in a chair, spreading his knees and leaning back so sexily you can almost forgive him for the anxiety pumping through your veins.

“Whatever my Conejita desires,” he says, and you’re torn between smacking or straddling him. Melanie turns her attention to you and you wrack your brain.

“I guess…a dress would be nice?” you say. Javi reaches out to squeeze your hand reassuringly, adoration so clear in his eyes. He truly has no idea it’s the most likely to have ease in the sizing. You might make it out with one and blame it on not wanting to overspend. Javi would get his wish, and you would make it out with most of your ego unscathed. Win-win.

Melanie leads you out of the space and into the clothing racks. The choices are sparse, a few items hung per rack in an exclusivity motif. As soon as you’re out of earshot she starts chatting.

“Your boyfriend is very sweet to be treating you today.”

You hum and nod, chewing the inside of your lip. Some of the pieces are very pretty, flattering cuts and classic shapes, but none of the silhouettes look large enough for you.

“Does he…do this often?” Melanie asks carefully, and when you look at her you see an understanding that soothes you ever so slightly.

“First time.”

“A surprise.”

“Yeah, pretty big one.”

Melanie smiles at that, arms wrapped around an iPad. Her nails are very pretty tapping against the device.

“Let’s take a look back here,” she says, leading you off the main floor and further into the store. The racks are fuller back here, but not nearly enough to make you think success is within reach. Your chest tightens, but you put on a cheery smile when Melanie turns back to you.

“Men are just…so thick sometimes,” she sighs, and the sharp change makes you bleat out a laugh. “I’m sure Mr. Gutierrez has the best intentions in mind…”

You nod and finish her sentence.

“...but you don’t have anything here for me.” Her hands clutch at the tablet again, going white around the knuckles.

“We might have a few things, but they’ll be simpler. Not like the current collection.”

“Simple is fine,” you rush to say, her smile making your own come to the surface.

“Okay, let me go digging. I think we can make it work. I’m…” She pauses to clear her throat, lowering her voice. “I’m sorry this isn’t fun. I hate it. I just want everyone to feel happy in their clothes, not…left out.”

You turn your comfort to her, squeezing her shoulder.

“I appreciate you trying to help.”

Melanie scurries off to the backroom, leaving you on the bustling floor with ten other women who could slip into anything off the rack no problem. Weaving aimlessly, you peruse the dresses. Each one holds promise, which only makes it more disappointing when the tag numbers run too small. But you’re keeping positive, searching for Melanie’s bouncing ponytail returning with anything. You’d gush over a mumu.

“Excuse me,” comes over your shoulder, and you turn to another sales woman hovering expectantly behind you. Her brow is lifted high, barely waiting for you to shift before tugging a garment off the rack. She turns quickly, but in the split second before you see it. That stomach-dropping look that screams good luck slathered in sarcasm. Your throat clenches, hands coming to your middle and you wish you could just collapse into yourself like a dying star.

“Fuck this,” you whisper, tears shining in your eyes as you hurry back to the consultation space. You’ll tell Javi you have a headache, that you’re too hungry to shop right now, anything to convince him to get the hell out of here.

“Cone…” he says as you burst in, snatching up your purse and steeling your voice. The sunshiney excitement trades quickly for concern. “What is wrong? I promise the cost…”

“Actually, I don’t really…I don’t…” You try to get out your white lies with an even tone but when Javi cups your face in his large hands your composure crumples. A fat tear breaks rank and rolls down your face, Javi’s eyes widening with shock.

“Conejita, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” His eyes darken a fraction. “Did someone say something to you?”

Your heart skips a beat, which you blearily file for later introspection. Resting your head on his shoulder, he envelops you in his arms. Orange peel and musk surrounds you, Javi’s soothing hands traveling up and down your spine. When your breaths stop warbling you pull back, wiping your face.

“I’m sorry…” you start to say, but Javi moves you to sit. He drops to a kneel, clasping your hands in your lap.

“No, Conejita, you are not apologizing for one second. What has upset you? Was it someone out there?” When you shake your head, his eyes soften. “Was it me?”

“Oh Javi,” you sign, squeezing his hands. Your lashes are still wet with tears, but you can see his dread so clearly. “I really appreciate this, all of it. I’m sure it’s flattered lots of people before. But I’m…me.” You release a big breath, the pain of keeping all your anxieties in finally easing. “I can’t shop at places like this, Javi, I don’t…they don’t make clothes like this for people my size.”

Javi’s concern smashes into confusion.

“But they must have seamstresses in the back. They take your measurements, no? Find an acceptable piece and tailor it?”

The laugh you bark out is watery but it does raise the corners of your lips.

“Men have it so easy,” you bemoan. “I think the closest size I saw was still in the single digits. And even then, the numbers rarely mean anything.” Javi’s confusion only deepens.

“But how do you know what to buy? Surely the measurements are the same. Inseam, waist, sleeve length, how can it be so different?”

“Javi, I’m rarely the same size at the same store.”

Javi sputters. “That’s madness. How does anyone put up with that?”

You giggle lightly, the tears finally receding. “I just go to the department stores. More variety, more sizes. No pushy sales people. Though Melanie is really nice.”

“But you are still uncomfortable,” he says, stroking his thick thumbs along the back of your hands. “I did not want to say anything, but I noticed. You do not seem to feel good in the nice things you wear.”

You shrug. “It’s not perfect, it’s just…easier.”

His eyes implore up at you. “I wanted you to feel good with me.” Your heart patters, Javi’s face falling. “But I have made it worse. Please forgive me, Conejita, I truly did not know this would be so painful.”

You pat Javi’s cheek and give him a quick kiss. “I know, Javi. I know you didn’t mean for it to be.” A tap on his nose makes him smile. “But next time, when the lady doth protest too much, maybe listen?” Javi’s cheeks pink as he nods.

“Shakespeare has always been wiser than me,” he jokes as he helps you back to your feet. He leads you back to the front of the store with one hand on your back, and for a few seconds you do feel like the most beautiful person in the room. Women looking at you in awe, Javi’s fingers pressing in a way that’s subtly possessive. You could be lady Godiva riding a Shetland pony and not feel a lick of shame when he looks at you like that.

“Mr Gutierrez!” Melanie calls as she hurries up to the front to intercept. Her hands are empty, which is a relief.

“Thank you for your help, I just don’t think there’s anything for me here,” you say in a practiced tone that makes Javi pull you closer and Melanie’s eyebrows knit in the middle. She nods, extending a folded piece of paper to Javi.

“I’m sorry they didn’t have something for you today,” she says, and Javi takes the proffered paper. He leads you out of the store and into the fresh sunlight of the street. Unfolding it, he raises an eyebrow then secrets it away in his jacket pocket.

“What was that about?” you ask, tucking your arm into his elbow. He shakes his head.

“Nothing important. What is important is going to get some lunch, then we are going driving with the top down and dinner at my place after.”

“Javi…” you say with a little warning, but he tuts at you as his long stride pulls you down Rodeo drive.

“I know, I know what you will say, but bear with me because I am learning how to love you the right way. Today was not so good, but I would like to try and make it better.” He slows down when he catches your wide eyes and dazed smile. “What? What have I said now?”

“That you love…” the last words disappear on the wind as Javi’s smile crinkles his eyes.

“Of course, Conejita. Dios mio, of course I love…I love you,” he rushes out, barely able to finish before crashing his lips into yours. Wide palm cupping your head, you couldn’t care less that you’re making pedestrians part around you. Javi loves you, even if he’s a little clumsy about it. But when someone wants to learn to love you the right way…how can you not love every atom of them back?

The following weekend finds you in one of the lesser-used rooms in Javi’s house, sitting on a chair by the window. He deposited you there with a cappuccino and a promise to wait, so now you’re doing just that. Javi does love surprises, but you never expected Melanie to walk in the door.

“Oh my god, hi,” you manage to get out, standing up to shake her hand but are treated to a tight hug instead. She looks brighter, lighter than the last time you saw her, black ensemble traded for a pale blue button-up and floral patterned pants.

“Javi told me it was a surprise, and I want it on the record that after this one he’s not allowed any more!” You sit across the little cafe table from her with visible confusion.

“I am a bit…lost…as to the surprise,” you giggle out nervously, which has Melanie opening a smart black bag and taking out folios and fabric swatches.

“I’ve been trying to get my stylist business off the ground and…” She pauses for a moment before making genuine eye contact. “And if there’s anything I was meant to do, it’s find people clothes that make them happy. So I offered him my services and he’s…well, he’s been very generous.”

Pride swells in your chest. So Javi.

“So what we’re going to do today is figure out what you like, don’t like, colors, styles, and then I’ll start building your wardrobe. Sound good?” Melanie’s smile is contagious.

“Sounds amazing.”

You don’t quite understand every step of the process. At one point she drapes color swatches on your chest like a bib and you can’t help but giggle. But it’s fun, maybe for the first time you can remember. She writes down that you hate side-seam zippers and skirts cut above the knee. That you love color but not too garish. And when you catch Javi pacing outside the glass door to the patio, peeking in anxiously every five minutes, your smile softens. She probably doesn’t write that part down. That’s written on your face.

You can’t stop twirling in the mirror, inspecting from every angle. You try to scrutinize, but you can’t find a single thing wrong.

It’s perfect.

After the wardrobe cleanout, the basics overhaul, and the lengthy plan Melanie made, she asked a thrilling question.

“What’s the first piece you’d like me to find?”

“I’ve always wanted a little black dress,” you replied, and her smile almost eclipsed her face.

“I have the perfect one in mind.”

She wasn’t kidding. It’s full and flouncy, smoothing in all the places you normally criticize and accentuates your figure in the best ways. The fabric is sumptuous under your fingers, just the right weight without dreaded sheerness. You can imagine yourself with hair done up, your favorite lipstick, Javi’s hand on your lower back, that possessive glint in his eyes. All of the excitement makes you spin three more times, the room tilting briefly before you catch Javi standing in the doorway.

“Hey!” you call out breathlessly, smoothing the skirt again. “It’s the first thing Melanie’s sent over. I…oh my god, I love it so much.” You turn to look in the mirror again, and in the reflection you see Javi’s mouth parted, eyes dragging over you. His fingers are rubbing together at his sides and…is he clenching them?

“She took everything I said and just found the most perfect dress.” Your thumb catches in the fabric and you spin back around to gasp, “And it has pockets!”

You’ve barely taken your hands out of them when Javi is on you, all greedy mouth and firm hand on the back of your head. His tongue demands on your lips, slipping inside when you gasp for him. Arm banding around your back, he steadily walks you backwards towards the bed.

“Conejita, mi amor, eres tan hermosa,” he pants, his wandering hand settling on your ass and squeezing. It crackles between your thighs, white-hot arousal at how he holds you. Javi has always been generous in bed, and highly competent, but this is a side of him you haven’t seen. Maybe briefly when he asked you if someone bothered you at that awful boutique store.

Before you can rationalize anything further he guides your hips down to the bed, teetering on the edge. He quickly drops to his knees and dives his hands under the skirt, sliding one knuckle along the seam of your pussy.

“Javi…” you squeak out, but his touch leaves to curl around your underwear and yank them down your legs. The rip of a seam makes arousal gush between your legs, spreading them instinctually. He licks his lips before fisting your skirt above your waist and ducking down to taste you for too brief a moment. Your hips buck, teeth nipping at your inner thigh before he lifts up to kneel between your legs.

“Javi, the dress,” you caution, and with a sweeter smile he shifts his knees to make sure the fabric isn’t trapped between. When his eyes meet yours again he plants a hand by your head and laps between your lips, slow and sensual. The clink of his buckle coming undone aches deep in your core, fisting his button-up across his shoulders.

“I’m sorry, Conejita, I just…cannot control myself when you look so beautiful,” he confesses as his fingers tease at your entrance. A choked whimper ekes out as he opens you up on two, pumping mercilessly into your clenching heat. He swears in Spanish into your neck, and your quiet whines grow to moans when his thick cock begins thrusting into the crease of your hip. His panted breaths start to take on a rumble, then a growl as his fingers match his shallow thrusts. Overwhelmed, you grasp at what words will make him give in.

“Javi, please, oh my god, please fuck me,” you finally manage, rocking your hips with his frantic pace.

“You’re ready for me?” he husks, your vociferous affirmations drawing his fingers out to leave you achingly empty. He slicks his cock with you, lining up and pressing just the head in before he plants his hands by your head and just…looks at you.

“Dios mio, eres una diosa,” he breathes, all of the sweet man you love. Grabbing around his wrists, you roll your hips down to sink more of him inside. He stretches you so deliciously, filling your cunt and lungs.

“Take it, Javi,” you rasp, head tossed back. “Show me I’m yours.”

Javi bites his lower lip and looks at you with a depth you crave. Infatuation and devotion and a desire so hungry you want to sate him for hours. In a dizzying flick of his wrists he now presses yours into the bed.

“Mine,” he purrs, and the snap of his hips as he buries himself flush draws a lusty cry from your lips. “My beautiful Conejita,” he grits out, grinding his hips deep to press punishingly into your g-spot. You writhe under him, legs clamped around his waist as he slides out just enough to punch back in. “You are mine, aren’t you?”

“Oh fuck, Javi, yes, I’m yours,” you beg, and it’s exactly what he needs to begin fucking you earnestly, scooping his hips to drive deeper and deeper. The friction of his grind strums your clit just right to tremble around him. Pinning you with a rumble, he fucks you into the mattress until his wandering hands can’t stop from palming your breast, rolling your nipple through the fabric. The spike of pleasure urges you to meet him stroke for stroke, riding him just as hard back. He grabs your chin just firmly enough to coax more slick to coat his cock, guiding you back to his demanding mouth. He steals your breath, sucking your lower lip between his teeth and groaning when you shudder around him.

“Not going to last, mi amor,” he whispers, lacing your fingers together as his thrusts lose rhythm.

“Cum on my pussy,” you plead, and with a strung-out moan he pulls out just quick enough to cover your mound with his hot spend. It drips lewdly, sliding to gather in the crease of your thighs. His eyes are fixated on it, the brand of his lust sticky on you. Your orgasm tips over as he slides his thumb through his cum to press firmly on your clit. His name is all you can manage as pleasure laps over your skin, his touch grounding as he praises you over and over.

In the afterglow, Javi folds the length of your skirt well above the mess he made.

“I will be sure to send this to drycleaning before you want to wear it,” he says, pulling a juddery giggle from your chest. He stands oh shaky legs and you glimpse his wet cock in the vee of his open pants, realizing you just fucked like college kids so horny for each other they couldn’t even undress properly. It makes you giddy as he brings over tissues to clean up, careful not to leave any of his spend where it could stain. When he’s finally satisfied he drops down on the bed, opening his arms for you to snuggle into. Once fitted together, eyes heavy, he murmurs in your ear.

“It wasn’t the dress.”

You hum sleepily, sitting up to look into his sated face.

“You are most beautiful when you are happy,” he says, the earnestness earning him another sweet kiss.

“I am very, very happy Javi.”

He doesn’t need to tell you that he is. It’s written on his face, and in his heart.

END

#javi gutierrez x reader #javi gutierrez x you #javi gutierrez x f!reader #javi gutierrez x female reader #javi gutierrez fanfiction #tuwomt fanfiction #tuwomt fanfic #the unbearable weight of massive talent fanfiction #prolix fics

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ladamedusoif · 7 months ago

Text

El Mar (The Sea)

Javi Gutierrez x F!Reader - Part of the Summer Lovin' 24 Fic Event

Prompt: By The Sea #1

Word count: 6.4k (this got out of hand)

Content Notes and Warnings: Explicit; 18+ MDNI; set after the events of TUWOMT; we can assume things just didn’t work out with Gabriela because in this house we love her; no physical description of Reader beyond her clothes; references to implied infidelity (not involving Javi or Reader); references to alcohol consumption; Reader understands at least some Spanish; Reader can swim; likely errors about yachts and how they work because I have never been on one; some angst but so much softness; friends to lovers; oral sex (f receiving); mutual masturbation; safe PiV sex; did I mention the softness

A/N: For @pedgito, @amanitacowboy, and @chaotic-mystery's wonderful Summer Lovin’ fic challenge event, with love and SO MANY apologies for how goddamned late this is. (This is what happens when you are an overthinker and a perfectionist).

And huge love and thanks to @doscharolastras for being such a supportive beta for this, and for everything.

(header by @pedgito and divider by @cafekitsune)

“You’re a great guy, Javi, truly.” Etta hastily rolls up a couple of her light slip dresses and pushes them into her Longchamp weekend bag. “But it’s over. I hope you find someone who’ll make you happy, who’ll love what you love, who’ll love you for you. I mean that.”

Her eyes scan the room for any belongings she might have left behind, but purposefully avoid the perplexed face of her boyfriend of almost a year. Javi Gutierrez is still struggling to make sense of it all. One minute he was kissing Etta on the cheek, leaving her on a sunlounger by the hotel pool while he went for a stroll along the Croisette, keen to soak up the atmosphere of the Cannes Film Festival. The next, he was standing in their comfortable hotel suite, watching his girlfriend packing her bags.

”Etta, amor, please wait. Please. We…we are going on the yacht tomorrow, remember? A week on the Mediterranean, just you and me.” He wrings his hands, helpless. “Maybe it is just what we need, no? Time together, time to see how we can save what we have.” Javi’s dark brown eyes sparkle with a mixture of hope and heartbreak.

She exhales and zips her bag, slipping it over the handle of her large suitcase. “Is this even worth saving, Javi? Seriously?”

Javi, blindsided, is lost for words. All he can do is repeat her name, over and over, pleading, disbelieving, as Etta gives him a chaste little kiss on the cheek and leaves the room.

Later, lying on the bed in the dark, staring at the ceiling, Javi realises that in all her hasty explanations and excuses, she never once looked him in the eye.

You smiled when you opened the file with details of the client for the next week. Javi Gutierrez was a regular, usually hiring a yacht at least once a summer for a week or two of sailing around the Med. You took a certain satisfaction in the fact that he always requested that you be his chief stew (short for chief steward; in non-yacht speak, the person responsible for managing everything from dinners to room requests to on-board entertainment).

He told you why, once. “You are…what is the term? Unbothered? It does not matter who is on the yacht, how famous or not, you are wonderful to everyone.”

You chuckled. “People are people. My job is to make sure you all have a perfect holiday.”

You suspected that Javi was thinking of the time when, on his first trip, you had somehow managed to transform a stateroom into a dojo at very short notice - and had not batted an eyelid when it became clear that it was a special request for Nicolas Cage.

You knew you were nursing a little crush on him, there was no doubt. But that’s all it was - a little crush, harmless, inconsequential. After all, anyone would end up with a little crush on Javi Gutierrez if they met him.

This year, Javi had hired a yacht and plotted an itinerary that would pick him up in Cannes, after the film festival, and travel across the Mediterranean to its final destination: his home in Majorca, docking in Palma. The reservation was for two guests. You arched an eyebrow, swiping down to the section of the form marked “Special Requests”.

”Mr Gutierrez and his guest (Etta Balbay, actor, model) will be celebrating their first anniversary as a couple on this trip. Please arrange for flowers and champagne in the stateroom, and intimate meals and atmosphere.”

Javi generally kept the details of his personal life close to his chest, though you knew that it had been a while since he’d had a serious relationship. You smiled as you opened up your go-to contact list for florists in Cannes, heart gladdened that this kind, funny man had finally found someone to love.

***

Javi can’t remember how long he’s been lying on the bed, fully clothed. He must have slept for a while, he thinks - the light creeping through the drapes is bright and fresh, suggesting early morning. He reaches for his phone. Seven AM.

He had tried calling Etta a few times in the hours after she left, but the calls went unanswered. Eventually, he got a voice note from her.

“Javi, sweetheart, I think it’s best for both of us if we just do no contact for a while. I’ll make arrangements with your people to get my things from your place in LA.”

He listens to it again and flops back onto the bed.

He’s woken the next time by the hotel room phone, ringing furiously. He looks at his wristwatch, this time.

Eight thirty.

“Hola, hello?” Javi’s voice is heavy and groggy.

“Javi?” Pablo, his assistant, sounds frantic on the other end of the line. “I’ve been trying to reach you! Did you two forget about the early departure?”

Javi rubs his face and runs his fingers through his curls. “Early departure?”

“The yacht, Javi. You’d arranged to leave at eight, remember?”

The fucking yacht. He’d completely forgotten.

Pablo’s impatience hangs in the air. “What do you want me to do, Javi? I’m at the marina now, they called me when you didn’t show up.”

Javi would really rather curl up under his duvet and sleep for a thousand years. But he also really wants to go home. And maybe a week at sea will clear his head.

“Uh, tell them I am very sorry, I overslept… I will be there in half an hour, okay?”

Pablo sighs. “Sure.”

In Javi’s frantic state, he neglects to tell Pablo he is travelling solo. And his frazzled assistant doesn’t notice that his boss has used first person singular “I”, not “we”.

At the marina, Pablo exhales and slips his phone in his pocket. “He’s really sorry, he overslept, but he’s en route. That okay with you guys?”

You nod. “I’ll let the captain know, as he might want to replot the course depending on weather, but that’ll be fine. Mr Gutierrez knows where we are?”

Pablo sighs, again, and whips out his phone, tapping rapidly. “He does now.”

***

You smile and straighten your blouse when you see the black car pulling up at the end of the jetty, waiting for the familiar figure to emerge. Javi, typically, insists on helping the driver with his luggage as he makes his way to the boat.

“Mr. Gutierrez, welcome back! A pleasure to host you, as always, and I’m looking forward to meeting Ms Balbay, of course…” You scan the jetty, wondering where Javi’s guest is.

Javi’s face falls and he takes off his wayfarer sunglasses. “I am afraid that Etta…Ms Balbay will not be joining me on this trip, after all. We are no longer together.”

His eyes, usually so bright and warm, are filled with sadness. He looks exhausted.

“Oh, well… that’s absolutely fine, Mr Gutierrez. Let me take your bag, please.” You turn on your best, brightest smile. Professional, always, to the last.

He offers a slight smile in reply and follows you on board the yacht. “If you do not mind, please call me Javi? I know you like to be professional, but…we know each other so well now, no?”

You gesture towards the main living area and Javi enters, taking a seat on one of the large, comfortable couches built into the room.

“Of course, Mr Gut- I mean, of course, Javi. I’ll bring this to your stateroom - would you like some refreshments? Coffee, maybe?”

He nods, slowly, and you head towards the staterooms, making a mental note to tell the on-board chef that he would be cooking for one, not two, and that -

Oh, shit.

The stateroom has, per Javi’s original request, been decorated with a beautiful, tasteful floral arrangement. You had freshly opened a bottle of Perrier-Jouet champagne just prior to Javi’s scheduled arrival time, and it stands in an ice bucket alongside two vintage champagne coupes. And in front, an elegant, hand-written card wishes the now-defunct couple a happy anniversary.

Shit. At least you’d got here first. Swiftly, you move to remove any trace of the special additions before he sees them, hoping to spare his feelings. Frantically, you search for the champagne cork - a futile exercise, seeing as you’d never manage to squish it back into the neck of the bottle, but you keep trying to find it.

”If I could at least save this…”, you mutter to yourself, holding the dark green bottle as your eyes scan the stateroom.

”Is it even worth saving?”

Javi stands just inside the door, a sad half-smile on his face.

“Oh, Javi, I’m sorry, I was just -“

He shakes his head, his curls noticeably mussed and unattended to this morning. “Please, no apologies necessary. You were not to know. But thank you for thinking to tidy…this away.” He points at the champagne. “Please. You take it.”

He won’t hear your protestations, your insistence that you cannot drink on duty and won’t have enough time to enjoy the vintage champagne either way. When he finally accepts the bottle, he has one condition.

”You must come and have a glass with me on the deck this evening. Please? We can talk about the festival. You like film, don’t you?”

“Like” was an understatement. You adore cinema. And, as you nod your head, you think to yourself how nice it was that Javi remembered your passion for it.

“Well…okay. But one glass and one glass only for me. I have a ship to run, after all. And now, Javi, I’ll leave you to get unpacked while I check with chef about lunch.”

Javi offers a sweet, semi-formal little bow as you leave the room.

***

You held fast to your limit of one glass of champagne. Javi did not.

As he retired to the stateroom that night, a little the worse for wear, he thought about Etta, about whether there had been signs that something was wrong, whether he had misread the extent of her commitment to him.

She had seemed…different, the last few months. Nothing major, just - a little distant. She put it down to work, juggling some minor acting gigs with modelling, and with the strain of spending most of her time many thousands of miles from Javi. That’s why he’d invited her to Cannes, planned the yacht trip. Time together, away from the demands of their careers.

He’s haunted by her words, her wish that he would find someone who “loved you for you.” What did that mean?

He’d started to speak to you about her, sitting in comfortable seats on the deck as the sun set, his tongue loosened by the champagne. You were typically comforting, kindly suggesting that maybe Etta might just need space, that this might not be the end.

It would be tempting to believe that, Javi muses, as he brushes his teeth. He spits out his toothpaste and reaches for the mouthwash, studying his features in the bathroom mirror. He searches his eyes, as if seeking some hint that hope was an option, that something could be salvaged from the wreckage.

Try as Javi might, he saw only exhaustion. Deep down, even if he didn’t want to admit it to himself, he knew that Etta was never coming back.

***

After a couple of days at sea, Javi seemed a little brighter. He read, he sunbathed, he wandered amiably around the yacht chatting to you and the other two members of the tiny crew: Tony, the taciturn chef who was desperately homesick for his wife and new baby and spent every free moment on video calls with them; Andres, the ship’s engineer; and Vico, the captain. He asks you, shyly, if you would mind sharing lunch and dinner with him.

“For company,” he explains. “And you are such good company.”

Technically, you probably shouldn’t do it. But he’s on his own, and his girlfriend has left him, and so you take your main meals together each day. You talk about cinema, about travel; you tell him about the history of some of the places you can see from the deck of the yacht; he thanks you every time for being so kind and generous with your time.

”All part of the service,” you say. But in truth, he’s very good company too.

You see him deep in conversation with Vico one morning, over a simple breakfast of tostadas with sliced tomato and olive oil. He beams when he sees you approaching. A couple of days of sun and sea air has deepened his tan, brought his freckles to the fore, and picked out lighter strands in his hair. The loose blue linen shirt and white pants he’s wearing enhance his golden aura.

”We are going to make a little stop today, to swim,” he explains, glancing up at the bright sky. “It’s so beautiful, but oof, I need to cool down.” He mimes fanning himself, eyes rolling dramatically, and you laugh.

”Perfect. Let me know a likely time and I can reschedule lunch or dinner.”

As you walk back into the bowels of the yacht, you hear Javi calling you and turn to see him trying to catch up with you.

“Everything okay?”

”Sí, sí.” He catches his breath and smiles that bright smile again.

Yep, you still have a little crush on him.

”I was going to ask… would you like to join me? You have been working so hard, and it’s so hot, think of the cool water!”

He gestures with his broad hand towards the glittering blue of the Mediterranean, like a salesman making his pitch.

It is tempting. You are somewhat used to the summers on the boat, but you still find your blouse damp and clinging to you by the end of the day, your body crying out for a cool shower.

But he is a guest, and you are the chief stew.

”I’m not sure if I can, unfortunately - I am at work, after all…”

Javi looks crestfallen, dark eyes at their most puppyish. “Could it be a break? You break for lunch, no?”

Javi Gutierrez, you’re a hard man to say no to.

”Yes, I do, but…”

Those puppy eyes work their magic. A couple of hours later, you find yourself in the dark green swimsuit you had packed for this job, just in case it was needed, standing on the deck beside Javi. You realise, with a jolt, that you’ve been checking him out - though it’s hard not to. He’s still wearing his blue shirt, but a couple more buttons are undone now, exposing the breadth of his tanned chest. The white pants have been replaced by a pair of tight navy swim shorts that highlight his strong legs and leave very little to the imagination.

You avert your eyes and blame the heat in your face on the bright sun.

He peels off his shirt and you feel yourself heating up even more. “Ready?”

“Javi, you go first. I’m… I need to get up the courage.”

He raises his eyebrows and extends a hand towards you. It takes you a moment to realise he means for you to take it.

“Come. We will jump together, sí?”

“If I drown, this is your fault.”

He laughs, then turns somber. “I will take care of you.”

He means that.

You grip Javi’s big, strong hand securely.

“Okay. Uno, dos, tres…”

You shriek with joy as you leap into the unknown, Javi still holding your hand. The cool water of the Mediterranean shocks your system as the two of you are submerged, rapidly rising again to the surface.

His smile is as bright and warm as the sun itself when he reappears from under the water, hair slicked back by the waves. Javi looks born to the sea, confidently treading water as you compose yourself.

“Es bueno, sí?”

You nod, still working through the shock of the cooler water, and a huge smile creeps across your face. “It’s incredible. I didn’t realise how much I needed that.”

He laughs and lies back on the water, languidly kicking about to maintain his position, before turning smoothly round and starting to swim. Javi cuts through the water with ease, long arms and broad torso moving smoothly, sun glittering off the droplets that cover his shoulders.

He dips down into the water in a seal-like dive, feet kicking above the surface before he reappears and grins in your direction.

It is, you realise, the first moment on this trip that he has really seemed like himself.

***

He does not emerge after he goes to his stateroom to shower and change. When he doesn’t appear for dinner, you knock on his door.

”Javi? Dinner’s ready, if you are hungry?”

No reply.

”Javi?”

His voice comes through, low and sad.

“I will take dinner in my room this evening, if that is okay.”

”Of course. I’ll prepare a tray.”

You eat with Tony and Vico that night, enjoying the tagine Tony has had simmering away for most of the day but wondering what, exactly, had served to put an end to Javi’s sunny mood. Was it you, too familiar, too comfortable with the guest? Had you unsettled him?

The logical part of your brain would remind you that it was Javi who asked you to come swimming with him, who had sought your company throughout. But in your panicked state, you could only think that you had crossed some unseen line and upset him.

As you nestle into your little bunk that night, you spend a few minutes scrolling mindlessly on Instagram. A suggested post from a celebrity gossip page catches your eye.

ETTA BALBAY AND JON MARCUSO: LOVE ON SET

Your stomach lurched as you swiped through the pictures. There was Etta Balbay, walking hand in hand in New York with her co-star on her most recent movie when she was supposed to have been here, on this yacht, with Javi. Her boyfriend.

”Oh, fuck.”

***

The tagine was delicious, but Javi’s appetite was not up to much and his portion went largely untouched. He felt a little guilty, and made a mental note to apologise to Tony tomorrow.

He had been curled up in bed for most of the evening, ever since he’d checked his phone after the swimming pit stop and seen the pictures. Etta, looking very cosy with the lead guy from a film she’d had a minor role in. Etta, casually kissing that guy’s cheek in public, like she hadn’t just walked out on a relationship of almost a year. Etta, laughing a little too uproariously to be natural, hand resting on Jon Marcuso’s arm, in the middle of Manhattan.

”You are a fool, Javi Gutierrez.” He turns over and presses his face into the pillow, emitting a low, pained whine.

Another knock at the door. He swears under his breath and tries to decide whether to ignore it. He’d left his dinner tray at the door; you couldn’t possibly need anything else.

There’s no second knock, just the sound of paper slipping under his stateroom door and soft footsteps receding. Javi allows a couple of minutes to pass before he climbs out of bed and gingerly picks up the note. He recognises your handwriting.

In case you wanted a late night snack. I have arranged with Tony for breakfast to be brought to your room at the usual time tomorrow. Good night, Javi.

He opens the door. A small, round tray sits on the plush carpet, bearing a small jug of tinto de verano, some cold cuts and slices of cheese, and a little plate of old-fashioned cookies. He shakes his head as he remembers a voyage a couple of years before, when he’d made up some of the beverage - a cooling mixture of Spanish red wine and cloudy lemonade - for his guests and the entire crew, you included.

He picks up the tray and carries it into his room, placing it on his bed and taking a deep draught of the summer wine. It feels like comfort itself, refreshing and sweet and kind.

It was exactly what he needed. And you had remembered.

***

Javi reemerges just before lunch the next day, making a beeline for you as you oversee preparations with Tony. He gestures for you to join him outside on deck.

”I would like to apologise. For yesterday. And to thank you, of course. You… obviously worked out what was wrong.”

You swat away his apology and his thanks, reassuring him that it was all part of the service. “I did see the, um, photos from New York. I’m so sorry, Javi.”

He shrugs. “I feel like a fool. But at least I know for sure, now.”

”The only foolish one is her.” You clap your palm over your mouth, aware you might have gone too far. “Oh, I’m sorry, Javi, I shouldn’t have said that.”

He chuckles lightly and shakes his head. “It’s good to know someone thinks that highly of me. And that they remember how to make tinto de verano.” With a wink, he pops on his sunglasses and heads with his book in the direction of a deckchair.

***

”Need anything from the shops?”

On the morning of the penultimate day on board, Tony stands at the door to your tiny office, dressed in his street clothes and holding a couple of cotton tote bags. You raise your eyebrows in surprise.

”Shops?”

He nods. “Javi and me are going to take the motorboat and call into that little fishing village near the cove, get a few things for tonight’s barbecue. I keep telling him we’ve got supplies but he seems dead set on making stuff for us, as a thank you.”

A final night barbecue on the beach was a typical feature of the itineraries offered by the company you worked for, the yacht dropping anchor near a quiet cove and guests ferried to the shore in the on-board motorboat. You usually stayed on the yacht for these events, helping to sort out the food and supplies but leaving the guests and their chef to enjoy the evening.

Javi, however, wanted the party to be as much for the crew as for himself. As evening falls over the Mediterranean he stands commandingly over the grill set up on the white sands, his red and green-patterned shirt standing out against the blue of the sky and sea. He refuses to let Tony do any work, shooing him back to his deckchair with a cold beer whenever he threatens to help out. Instead, you act as his sous-chef, setting out large bowls of salad and platters of cheeses and slicing impossibly fresh, crusty bread.

“They smell incredible, Javi.”

He smiles proudly as he turns the enormous langoustines on the grill. “I wanted to cook for you all, as a thank you. You have been so kind to me this week.” He shifts his attention to the potatoes baking on the coals, then looks up at you, eyes soft. “But then, you are always so very kind to me, when we travel together.”

You take a sip of your mug of tinto de verano and hope it will cool the ardour burning in your face. “It’s easy when you are travelling with your favourite guest.”

Javi flushes a little and looks down at the grill. “I mean it. This week, especially… it has been just what I needed, and you…”

”EVERYONE SAY HI!”

The moment is interrupted by Tony, running in your direction with his phone in hand. His wife and tiny baby are visible on the screen, albeit somewhat pixelated. You and Javi wave enthusiastically as Tony holds the phone at arm’s length, attempting to get everyone in shot. Even Vico cracks a little smile as he takes a swig from his beer.

”I’ve never met anyone so homesick. Tony might need to rethink his career and stick to dry land.”

Javi lifts the fish from the grill and fills a large platter with the beautifully-charred food. “It must be wonderful to have someone to be so homesick for, no?”

***

It was a perfect night. The food, the drink, the company, the setting: all picture-perfect. Javi toasted the crew ten times over, Vico revealed a surprisingly strong singing voice as he performed mournful Sicilian melodies, and Tony began a makeshift disco with music blaring from his phone’s tinny speaker. Everyone danced together in turn, and you fell into Javi’s arms just as the song changed to Françoise Hardy’s “Le temps de l’amour”.

On the ride back to the yacht, you wondered why, exactly, the world seemed to fall away when he spun you on the sand, pulled you to him in hold, swayed with you to the music, as if you were the only two people on earth. It’s just a crush, you reminded yourself. You’ve been together for a week, it’s natural to feel close. And he’s just had his heart broken.

Tony and Vico head to their bunks as soon as you get on board, keen to get a solid night in before the next day’s final stage to Palma. You walk with Javi down the narrow corridor that leads to your small cabin and his stateroom, talking companionably about the evening and joking about Tony’s dance moves, until you reach the door to your cabin.

”Well, this is me. Thank you, so much. It was magical. And you need to give me that recipe for the langoustines!”

He smiles that half smile, soft curls falling over his brow and eyes the colour of melted chocolate glittering in the low lighting. His voice is warm and low. “I meant what I said. I did not know how much I needed this time, how special you would make it for me.”

Before you can respond, Javi leans in and kisses you, soft and slow. A gasp of surprise catches in your throat but you cannot help but kiss him back, hands winding through his hair as he pulls you tight to him. He tastes of beer and wine and salt and sun, of the sea, of summer.

You moan as he pushes you against the wall, but force yourself to break the embrace. “Javi… I’m sorry. I can’t. We can’t, not with guests, not - oh god, I’m so sorry.”

He tries to disguise his hurt, but his eyes give him away. “No, no. It’s okay, I should not have done that.”

Yes, you should have. But you keep quiet.

You lean in and take his hand. “And maybe this is just a rebound thing, you know? You’ll probably wake tomorrow and be glad it stopped here, that you didn’t go any further with me.”

For a moment, Javi looks like he is about to speak. But he just nods and kisses you on the cheek, wishes you goodnight, and quietly enters his room.

***

The crew line up on the jetty in Palma the next day, ready to give Javi the traditional goodbye. He has changed into more formal attire, a light blue jacket and cream pants with a light coloured shirt, and his driver quickly carries his luggage to the waiting car as Javi embraces each of you in turn. He hands Tony a little Paddington Bear toy, a gift for the baby waiting for him at home.

You are the last in the lineup, and he kisses your cheeks before pulling you in for a slightly nervous hug. “I meant it,” he whispers in your ear. “Thank you.”

You watch with uncertain feelings as Javi waves a final goodbye. You make a quick return to your quarters to collect your things, call a cab, and get off the yacht. Two weeks of long-overdue leave lay ahead, and you would spend it in a tiny apartment near Palma’s cathedral, exploring the city and enjoying the nearby beaches. It would, you tell yourself as you wait for the taxi, clear your head: of Javi, of those sad, beautiful eyes, and of the memory of a perfect kiss that is replaying on a loop in your mind’s eye.

***

A voice calls your name, the sound cutting through the crowds meandering through the city’s narrow streets that sunny evening, about a week after you’d left the yacht. At first, you think you must be imagining it - until you turn and see Javi Gutierrez moving towards you through the crowds, somehow looking even more handsome than you remembered in his dark green suit. His eyes widen as he reaches you and takes you in, before kissing you on the cheek.

”Hermosa.” He almost breathes the word as he surveys your long sundress and espadrilles, newly purchased in Palma as a much-needed respite from your usual wardrobe.

“You are too kind, Javi,” you respond, suddenly conscious of his gaze. “And you are looking rather guapo.”

He grins and nods shyly. “I have been having meetings in the city the last couple of days, staying at our little apartment here.” He gestures to the perfectly-cut suit. “So, I must dress to impress.”

You feel a smile creep across your face, an unconscious sign of how happy just being in his company makes you.

Javi places a hand on your arm, gently. “Are you free? We could have a drink, perhaps - some food? Unless you do not want to, perhaps you have plans. No, you probably have plans, of course, what am I -“

“Javi? I would love to have a drink with you. Lead the way.”

***

Over some ice-cold glasses of local vermouth with orange slices, he regales you with stories about his future projects, seeking your thoughts and opinions on the various concepts and scripts he is working on. You talk about the city, about your plans for the rest of your time there, your next voyages.

He orders a second round, as well as a platter of cheese and olives, and you broach the subject.

“So… how are you doing? After, well, everything.”

Javi pops a green olive in his mouth and chews thoughtfully before spitting out the stone discreetly. “I am okay, I think. Still shocked, perhaps, but a week at sea, then being alone the last few days… Well. It gave me time to reflect, to think about what I want.”

You sip your drink, not wanting to interrupt, and he continues.

”Perhaps I should have noticed that it was not going as well as I thought it was, that we were perhaps not as connected as I believed.” He shrugs. “She told me that she hoped I would find someone who ‘loved me for me’. It seems that she did not love me for me, no?”

His expression is so open, so genuine, that it makes your heart ache as you struggle to imagine how anyone could not love this man for who he was.

“You deserve that, Javi,” you say quietly, emboldened by the vermouth. “And I don’t think there’s anyone in the world who couldn’t want you for who you are.”

He looks at you with a wry smile, eyes twinkling. “Except for Etta Balbay, of course.”

You chuckle. “You’ve got me there.”

He sips his drink before turning back to you, studying your features in silence before speaking a little hesitantly. “I have to tell you something. When I kissed you on the boat - it was not a ‘rebound’ thing, like you said. I…care too much about you for that.”

Your eyes widen as they meet his, warm and earnest. Fuck. He means it.

Gingerly, you reach to tuck an errant strand of Javi’s honey-brown locks behind his ear, fingers gently caressing the side of his face as you test the waters. He smiles softly, leaning into your touch.

“I care about you too, Javi. And not just because you’re my favourite guest.”

You lean in before you can second-guess yourself. His lips are as soft and enticing as you remember, the slight bristle of his moustache against your mouth making you sigh happily as you deepen the embrace. He cups your face in his hands as he kisses you, full of want and desire, right there on the café terrace. He leaves you panting when he breaks away, a confused look on his face.

“What about the rule? Not with guests?”

“I’m on holiday, and you’re not a guest now.” You smile knowingly, before leaning in for another kiss. “Would you…like to get out of here? My rented flat is five minutes away.”

He grins, and signals for the bill while you disappear to powder your nose.

***

You give in to a shared, surprisingly intense desire as soon as the door of the apartment closes behind you. Javi knows exactly how to handle you, guiding you against the wall of the tiny flat and kissing you deeply as he fumbles to undo the buttons on the front of your sundress while you tug off his jacket and unbutton his shirt. He pauses for a moment in the half-light to admire your breasts, cupped by the red lace of your bra, before bringing his mouth to your nipples, sucking each one in turn through the delicate fabric. He moans against you when you unbuckle his belt and undo his pants, slipping your hand inside his black boxer briefs to feel the stiff length of his cock.

“Good?”

He closes his eyes and sighs with pleasure. “Sí. So, so good. Keep going.”

He pulls down the fabric of the bra to expose your tits, grunting and muttering sweet nothings in a hybrid tongue of English and Spanish as he grinds against your palm. With your free hand you reach for his, guiding it under the skirt of your dress and to the apex of your thighs. You gaze into each other’s eyes as he roughly pulls down your panties and slips two thick fingers between your folds, fingertips expertly working your clit.

“God, I want you, Javi.” You whine with pleasure as you ride his fingers, still stroking his cock. “Want you, want to fuck you so much.”

He groans with need and pulls you to the little bedroom, laying you down on the edge of the bed as he gets to his knees and drags off your red panties before tossing them behind him. His pinky ring glints against your thigh as he parts your legs and looks up at you, admiring your pussy as he prepares to worship.

“I want you too - so much. Eres tan hermosa,” he murmurs, peppering the delicate skin of your inner thighs with kisses before he places his lips over your wet cunt. He has you bucking and moaning within seconds, sucking your clit over and over, working it with the perfect line of his nose, before slipping his tongue in and out of you until you come, loudly, against his face.

As you ride out your orgasm, you sit up a little and beckon him to you, opening your legs a little wider to accommodate his beautiful body.

“C’mere, Javi.” You take one of the condoms you bought in the café bathroom out of your purse before pulling down his pants and boxers. It’s difficult not to exclaim in anticipation at the sight of him, so hard and ready for you.

He’s already nudging against your entrance as you pull the rubber carefully over his cock and line him up to take you. The stretch is slow and intense as Javi pushes inside you, your walls already clenching around him. He squeezes his eyes as he adjusts to the feeling before he starts to rock against your hips.

“Feel good?” You wrap your arms around his broad back as he fucks you, wanting to feel every inch of him inside you. Javi pants and whines with pleasure.

“Incredible. So good, so tight for me.” He picks up the pace a little as he learns what you like and what you can take, hooking an arm under one of your thighs and pressing into the flesh as he fucks you ever deeper and ever harder. “You’re delicious, amor, so perfect - fuck!”

He grunts loudly when he sees you slip your hand between your warm bodies, massaging your swollen clit until you come again, clenching around him. When you open your eyes, he’s gazing down at you, handsome face full of pleasure and desire and a kind of wonder.

“Hi.” He slows the roll of his hips a little, taking you at a more languid pace, and leans in to kiss you. It’s soft and tender, a perfect accompaniment to the more heated passion that led you to the bed and a delicious sensation as you come down from your orgasm.

You savour the taste of yourself on his lips and smile at how utterly gorgeous this man is, hair mussed and falling forward, eyes warm and pussy-drunk and a little grin dancing around his full lips. God, he’s beautiful.

“Hi, you.”

“Es bueno?”

“Mmmm, sí. So, so good, Javi.” With a gentle nudge of your thighs, you move together to shift positions, riding him slowly and steadily as his broad hands grip your thighs. You arch an eyebrow when he almost seems to giggle at one point, embarrassment immediately flushing over his face. You slow down and pause.

“What’s funny?”

He smiles and shakes his head, cheeks pink. “I - I don’t know. You are so beautiful, this is so good, I feel…”

You lean forward and kiss him, feeling his smile spread against your lips. “You feel…happy?”

He nods, unable to say anything more as you begin to fuck him again with a slow, deep roll of your hips and a huge smile on your face.

***

He wakes you with tender kisses after a night that involved very little sleep, beard bristling against the bare skin of your neck, your arms, your breasts. The smile that greets you as you blink awake is like your own personal ray of sunshine.

“I hope you don’t mind waking up to me in your bed.”

You giggle. “Not in the least. I love waking up to you in my bed.”

He grins, rolls over, and spoons you, holding you to him with those strong, tanned arms. He nods to the little side table, where a tray with two cups of coffee sits, before nuzzling against your neck.

“Good! I love waking up in your bed too. And I made coffee.” He stops nuzzling for a moment. “I hope I remembered the way you like it.”

You wriggle over and turn to face him, tracing the outline of his features with the tip of your finger and kissing him gently. “I’m sure you did.”

He smiles. “I meant it yesterday, when I said I care about you. I think I have cared about you for a long time, but…I did not know if you cared about me.”

“I cared - I care - about you, Javi. More than I think I realised. Do you know now?”

Javi nods and kisses your forehead. “Sí.”

Further A/N: My choice of the late, legendary Francoise Hardy's "Le temps de l'amour" for Javi and Reader's dance on the beach was directly inspired by this scene from Wes Anderson's Moonrise Kingdom, which I just adore. Please enjoy, it's so sweet. (Pedro in an Anderson movie when?!)

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