Summary: Trapped in a surveillance van with Javier on New Year’s Eve, you’re counting down the minutes until midnight - while the sharp banter flows like tequila and he has some very distracting ideas to kill the time.
Warnings: +18, MDNI!, enemies-to-lovers smut, just needed a set up for a filthy NYE porn, forced proximity somehow, banter is my love language, alcohol and smoking (javi and reader), playful power struggles, mild spanking, protected p in v, Javi being a menace waiting for you to beg (hence the title)
A/N: an early christmas gift and a countdown to NYE, to end 2025 with a... bang 🤭
wc: 8.1k (won't say sorry for indulging in smut :D)
The heater in the surveillance van rattled like it was dying, blowing out air that was warm only in theory. You sat hunched over the narrow dash, binoculars pressed to your eyes, watching the dark mouth of the warehouse across the street.
Nothing.
Just the sagging fence, the flicker of a busted lamp, and a gust of cold wind stirring trash along the curb. A thrilling New Year’s Eve assignment if there ever was one.
Next to you, Javi Peña rustled the paper of a vending-machine snack with the same level of tact he brought to every part of his job: none.
“You know,” he drawled, “you’re gonna give yourself back problems staring through those things like that.”
“You know,” you returned, not moving, “I wouldn’t have to if someone else in this van at least pretended to work.”
He chuckled - the low, warm kind that told you he found you amusing, which only made it worse. “I am working,” he said. There was a pause, then another loud crackle of the snack bag. “Fueling up.”
You lowered the binoculars just enough to glare at him over your shoulder. He sat slouched in the passenger seat, boots kicked up onto the console, jacket half unzipped, looking infuriatingly comfortable. A man who had no right to be that relaxed on duty, in the cold, on the night everyone else got actual food and indoor heating.
“I hope you choke on that,” you muttered.
“On the chips?” he asked. “Or on your attitude?”
“Either.”
He laughed again. “You wound me, cariño.”
“Don’t call me that.”
He held up his hands in surrender, though the smirk didn’t budge. “Fine. Agent Attitude.”
You turned back toward the warehouse, jaw tight. The binoculars fogged at the edges from how close you were holding them. Stay focused. You told yourself all the things that usually worked.
But Peña had been assigned as your partner for the entire night, and the universe clearly wanted you to suffer.
Radio static buzzed from the console, a half-garbled update from HQ. Nothing yet. Suspects expected sometime between now and midnight. The big, thrilling life of drug enforcement: a whole lot of waiting.
You scanned the empty street again. In the distance, someone tested fireworks - faint pops echoing against the buildings, early celebrations from people with better plans.
“Bet you wish you were out there,” Javi said, voice warm with that too-knowing tone.
“No,” you said, eyes narrowing on the warehouse door. “I just wish I weren’t in here with you.”
He whistled softly. “Good thing the night’s still young and we can change that.”
You hated that it sent a small, unwanted spark through you - irritation, heat, something tangled.
You ignored it and kept watching. The binoculars were practically glued to your face at this point, the rubber edges beginning to bite into your skin. “I don’t get it,” you muttered, breath fogging the lenses. “They should’ve shown up hours ago. But it looks… dead.”
You finally lowered them - and caught Javi mid-motion, tipping the last crumbs of his snack bag directly into his mouth like a man with no shame or self-preservation.
He froze, glanced at you, and shrugged. “Maybe it’s a dead lead. Wouldn’t be the first time we got sent on a wild goose chase by our beloved Commander Ruiz.”
You opened your mouth to counter him, to insist that Ruiz wasn’t always wrong - but Javi had a point. Commander Ruiz did love his dramatic intel drops. Always sold like breaking news, always delivered like lukewarm leftovers. Half threat, half tantrum, rarely precise.
Still. That didn’t change the situation.
You were on assignment until HQ cleared you.
Which meant - unfortunately - you were stuck.
Or, more precisely, you were stuck with him.
“At least Ruiz actually tries to do his job,” you shot back, placing the binoculars down on the console with more force than necessary. Your eyes strained into the dark across the street. Nothing but shadows and cold wind.
“Relax,” Javi said, drawing out the word like honey. “You can stop kissing his boots. I won’t tell him how loyal you are.” He tossed the empty bag aside. “Pretty sure he’s not speaking to me anyway.”
You turned to him fully, brow raised. “Do I even want to know how you managed to get on his bad side again to end up stuck in this van tonight of all nights?”
He met your stare with that infuriating smirk that never, ever seemed to slip. “Hard to say. Depends. Do you want the long version or the fun version? We’ve got hours.”
You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt and reached over to check the transmitter log - the signal timestamps, the battery levels, anything to avoid engaging with him directly.
Javi stretched his legs out further, boots knocking lightly against the glove compartment. “But seriously. Why you?” he mused aloud, like the thought had just bloomed in his head. “Little Miss Rulebook herself? Didn’t you earn yourself a warm night off? A party? A drink? A single spark of joy?”
You cleared your throat, focusing very intently on settings that did not require that level of focus.
And then - the inevitable click of realization.
“Oh,” Javi breathed, and his grin widened, turning beautifully wicked. “No way. Don’t tell me…” He leaned forward with delighted disbelief. “You volunteered?”
Heat crawled up the back of your neck - irritation, not embarrassment - but he saw it. Of course he did. He smelled vulnerability like a shark smelled blood.
He let out a low whistle. “Damn. I’m flattered, cariño -”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Fine,” he said, not meaning it for a second. “But really, sweetheart… if you wanted to spend New Year’s Eve alone with me in a car, you could’ve just asked me out.”
Your death stare could’ve melted steel. “I volunteered,” you said through clenched teeth, “because someone had to make sure this mission doesn’t go sideways.”
“Sure,” he said, reaching over to pat your shoulder in the most condescending way possible. “Whatever story helps you sleep at night.”
You jerked back, about to snap at him - to demand he get his hands and his ego and his everything away from you - when -
A noise outside.
Not loud. Not alarming. Just… movement. The soft crunch of gravel shifting under heavy tires.
Both your heads snapped toward the windshield.
You leaned forward slowly, heart tightening, the van’s interior lights off, windows just dark enough to keep you invisible if you stayed still.
A hulking delivery truck rolled past your line of sight, inching into the alley like it owned the place. No labels. No markings. Just a flat gray container box and a cab with foggy glass.
It swung wide, too wide, and then -
It stopped.
Right across your front bumper.
“Ah, come on,” Javier muttered under his breath.
You held up a hand to silence him.
The driver climbed out - a tall guy in a padded jacket, cap low, whistling some tune you couldn’t place. He didn’t look around. Didn’t check the alley. Didn’t even glance at the clearly occupied van he had just wedged into a dead end.
He popped open the rear doors of the truck.
Crates. Big ones. Heavy enough to hit the ground with dull thuds as he pulled them out one by one and set them in a sloppy line… directly behind your only exit route.
You swallowed. “Please tell me he’s just unloading for five minutes.”
“Sure,” Javier whispered, “and then Santa’s gonna roll up and give us matching pistols as belated christmas gifts.”
“Shut up,” you hissed.
But Javier wasn’t wrong.
The man kept unloading. Two crates. Three. Five. Seven. No pattern, no urgency - just a lazy efficiency that said he did this every night. He stacked the last one, dusted his gloves, and - without a single backward glance - wandered off. Whistling. Hands in pockets. Completely oblivious to the federal agents he’d just trapped.
You watched him leave the alley and vanish around the far corner.
Silence returned.
A thick, heavy kind of silence.
“Well,” Javier exhaled, lounging back like this was a comedy show he’d paid good money for. “We are officially screwed.”
You shot him a glare. “We could call out. Get his attention.”
“Yeah,” he said, raising a brow, “and announce ‘Hello sir, we are absolutely not undercover agents sitting illegally in this alley, could you un-block us so we can resume our totally-not-a-sting operation’?”
He had a point. A very irritating, very correct point.
You glanced at the crates. They were too heavy to move without noise. Too visible to climb over without exposure. And the truck had pulled in at such an angle that you were boxed in on both sides - driver’s door nearly kissing the alley wall.
“Maybe,” you whispered, “he’s not connected. Just some random delivery guy.”
“Maybe,” Javier echoed. “Or maybe he’s got friends inside with guns. You wanna gamble it?”
You breathed out slowly, fingers tightening around the steering wheel.
Javier tapped the dashboard lightly, his grin returning like a dangerous sunrise. “Well, sweetheart… looks like we’re ringing in the new year together.”
“Shut. Up.”
He sighed - a long, theatrical exhale that carried equal parts defeat and your very obvious wish for his demise. “Look, cariño,” he said, as if the endearment wasn’t calculated to get under your skin, “the way I see it? We’ve got two options. Be stuck and miserable about it…” He pointed loosely toward the windshield. “Or make the best of the situation.”
You stared at him. Flat. Unmoving. Pure deadpan.
He knew exactly why.
Javier raised both hands like you were holding him at gunpoint. “Oh for fuck’s sake - not that kind of best.” He paused. One eyebrow started to lift. “Unless…”
You didn’t even let him finish the thought - the binoculars landed squarely in his lap with a pointed thunk. He let out a very dignified oof.
“Okay, message received,” he muttered, rubbing his thigh. “But come on. We could at least try not to hate each other.”
You sighed. Hard. You’d examined every possible escape route outside the van: no alley gap big enough, crates too heavy, truck too close, nowhere to squeeze out without blowing cover. Nothing but shadow and bad luck.
You turned back to him.
“Fine.” You tossed your hands up. “Tell me, Javier… how were your holidays?”
“Javi’s fine,” he said instantly, flashing you a grin that could probably get him out of international crimes. “And really? Out of everything in the universe, that’s the question you’re going with? Holiday small talk?”
Your jaw tightened. “I am making an effort here.”
“Okay, okay,” he said, holding back a laugh that did nothing to soothe your murderous instincts. “Holidays were… great, I guess.”
You gave him a long, knowing look. The raised eyebrow. The one that said: I don’t believe a word of that bullshit.
“What?” he asked.
“No nice family gathering waiting for you?” you drawled. “Let me guess. You drowned yourself in tequila at some bar until closing, then got yourself a little holiday treat in one of those brothels you pretend you don’t frequent?”
His laugh burst out - loud, warm, incredulous - but there was a spark of wounded pride under it. “That’s what you think I do in my free time?”
“That’s what I’ve been told you do in your free time,” you corrected sweetly. “And the evidence is quite compelling.”
Javier clicked his tongue, gave you a long, slow look - the kind that started at your eyes and ended in a smirk like he’d just caught you lying to yourself. “Even if that were true - which it isn’t, by the way - still beats sitting at home alone, eating takeout and crying about a shitty Christmas movie.”
You glared so hard you could have shattered the windshield.
He grinned, shameless. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
“You are,” you snapped. “I cooked. A full meal, actually. And I watched Die Hard.”
Javier blinked. Then let out a low whistle that somehow made heat curl low in your stomach.
“Well damn. Wouldn’t’ve pegged you for an action girl.” He leaned a little closer, voice dipping into that dark honey tone he knew you hated because of how your pulse reacted. “What else you hiding under that hard little shell of yours?”
You shot him the coldest, slowest smile you owned. “Wouldn’t you like to know, pendejo.”
His answering grin was downright sinful.
And worse - the van suddenly felt entirely too small.
A sharp noise outside snapped both your heads toward the windshield - a clatter, quick and hollow, like something knocked over in the alley. Your breath stilled. Javi’s hand hovered near his holster out of reflex.
You both waited.
A stray cat darted out from behind a trash bin, its tail bottle-brush high as it bolted into the shadows again.
Javi exhaled, dragging a palm down his face. “Jesus. Jumpier than a rookie tonight.”
You slumped back into your seat, letting your heart settle. “At least you react like you actually work now.”
“I’ll take the compliment,” he hummed, stretching his legs out until his boot nudged your side of the floorboard. The van felt even smaller now, the stale heater air thick between you.
You let your head thunk back against the seat. “This stakeout is a complete waste of time. Nothing’s going down tonight - at least not on this street.”
A slow grin crawled across his face. “Something could go down.”
He leaned just slightly in your direction - not truly hitting on you, but making the idea of it obnoxiously clear.
Heat shot straight into your cheeks before you could stop it.
“Javier,” you warned. “Back off before I remember I’m due for a refresher on my self-defense certification. And you? Would make excellent practice.”
“Ooh, feisty tonight.” His voice dipped low in mock appreciation. “Wouldn’t mind knocking you around a little. Get you to behave.”
Your glare sharpened - and he sensed it, shoulders easing back, smirk softening by a hair.
“But honestly?” he added, tone losing its edge. “Wouldn’t you have had any plans anyway if it wasn’t for this grand assignment?”
Something in the frankness made you pause. Your arms loosened, uncrossing a little. You shifted in your seat, pressing your heel into the rubber floor mat.
“I think New Year’s is overrated,” you said, choosing your words slowly. “Resolutions, reinvention, pretending everything resets because the number changes. If you want something, you don’t wait for a calendar. You start now.”
You felt his eyes on you - too perceptive, too aware - and it made your throat go tight.
So you added, quickly, “Also? Fireworks are the worst.”
As if summoned by spite, a sudden burst lit up the sky a few streets away. The sharp pops ricocheted in the air, and both of you twitched reflexively - years of conditioning from places far less festive.
“Yeah,” Javi murmured. “They look pretty from a distance. But the sound… not worth it.”
You nodded, gaze drifting to the distant glow reflecting off the van’s windshield.
“And you?” you asked quieter this time, willing to ease the temperature of the conversation. “I can’t picture you at the precinct party. Drinking weak punch. Wearing a stupid tinsel crown. Counting down the seconds with Ruiz.”
Javi snorted hard. “Can you imagine that sad shit? Me and Ruiz, arm in arm?” His grin widened. “Nah. Better stuck in a frozen van with an agent who despises me.”
“I don’t.” The words came out faster, harsher than expected.
His eyes cut to yours, head leaning just a bit to the side. “Sure as hell feels like it, cariño.”
You clenched your jaw. You wanted to tell him to stop with the pet names - to save them for people who actually wanted to be charmed - but you knew he’d just use that as another way to poke at you.
“Despise is a strong word,” you said finally. “But you? You definitely test my patience.”
“Yeah,” he said, leaning back like he’d just won something, hands folding casually behind his head. “But that’s part of my charm.”
You didn’t dignify that with a reply.
The van fell quiet - not peaceful, but charged. The kind of silence that hummed against your skin. You watched the empty street outside, scanning for any movement that could salvage this mission. But deep down, your instincts knew better.
Dead lead.
Dead night.
The radio cracked to life with a burst of static, slicing clean through the dense quiet of the van. You jolted upright. Javi was faster - grabbing the mic with one hand while the other silenced the volume dial with a sharp flick of his thumb.
“Unit Four,” a voice buzzed through, distorted. “Status check.”
Javi pressed the button. “Four reporting. Still eyes on the warehouse. Still nothing. Street’s dead.”
“Copy that. Our guys confirm no movement expected anymore tonight.” A pause. “You two might’ve pulled the short straw.”
Javi’s jaw flexed. “That’s one way to put it. Also -” He leaned over you to peer past the dashboard, thumb still on the transmission button. “Be advised we’re blocked in. Delivery truck boxed our exit. Driver walked off. Van’s pinned.”
Static. Then a sigh you could practically see through the radio.
“Understood, Four. Stay put. Disguise team will mobilize and meet you. ETA… could be a while.”
Javi straightened, disbelief pulling his brows together. “They’ll what? There’s no reason, we can slip out, pop the lock, move the truck ourselves -”
“No.” The reply cut him off, firm enough to slap. “You stay in the vehicle. Copy? If the truck’s being monitored, we don’t risk you two being seen outside. No broken cover. No surprises.”
“But -”
“That’s an order, Peña.”
Javi’s knuckles went white around the mic. But he released the button and set the thing back in its cradle like he was afraid he’d break it.
“It’s gonna take them hours to get here!” You slumped back hard, frustration punching your spine against the cold seat.
“At least they’re coming.” Javi lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug, though annoyance flickered sharp across his features. He shut off the radio with a final, irritated twist.
“Still don’t get,” you muttered, staring at the darkened windshield, “why we couldn’t sneak out and do the exact same thing.”
A grin pulled at his mouth - slow, crooked, mocking and amused all at once. “Look at her. Miss Rulebook turning into Miss Break-In-And-Enter. Didn’t know you had it in you.”
“Don’t test me, Javi.”
His grin widened - not because of the threat, but because you used the short version of his name. Your eyes flicked to the glowing red numbers on the radio clock.
22:37.
A very long night ahead.
And a cold one.
The December chill seeped through every seam of the van - through your boots and coat. It crawled under your sleeves and down your spine, worming its way into your bones. Tiny clouds escaped your lips with each exhale.
Javi noticed. You felt his eyes on you even before you heard the shift of his arm.
“Got something to warm you up.” He nudged the glove compartment with his knuckles when it didn’t open. Then, with a muttered curse, smacked it. It popped open, and a half-full bottle of tequila tumbled out into his waiting hand.
“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” You groaned. “Drinking on the job? Peña, you’re even more -” you searched for a word “- ethically bankrupt than I thought.”
“You have no idea,” he said with a grin that had no shame in it whatsoever.
He reached in again and retrieved two shot glasses and set them on the console. He filled both, right to the rim.
“Come on. You take one, and in exchange?” His eyes glinted in wicked challenge. “You get to call me every name your prim little conscience won’t let you normally say out loud.”
“I’m this close to doing that without tequila,” you snarled - though you took the glass anyway.
“Mhm. Thought so.” He lifted his own. “Salud, cariño. Let’s make the best of being trapped in this tin can.”
He downed half his shot immediately. “Alright. Hit me with your best.”
You took a careful sip. Grimaced. Cleared your throat violently.
“You’re reckless and dangerous,” you said.
Javi made an offended face. “That’s it? That’s your big opener? Agent, I asked for an insult, not a character reference.”
“Your ego’s big enough. Doesn’t need my help.”
“There she is,” he laughed. “She’s warming up.”
He tipped back the rest of his glass. You followed with another sip - too big this time - coughed, and his grin broke into a delighted bark of laughter.
“Oh, fuck you, huevón!”
He laughed harder, grabbing the bottle to refill his glass and - without asking - topping off yours, which was still half full. “You’re hitting the sweet spot now. Go on.”
You felt the warmth spread - blooming in your chest, your limbs, under your skin like a slow burn. You took another swallow, larger, bolder.
“You’re a creep,” you snapped. “Because of you I stopped wearing skirts to work.”
That made him still - just for a second. His eyes dipped, slow and deliberate, down your legs.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “I noticed. Shame, though.” He clicked his tongue, feigning regret. “Would you put them back into rotation if I promised not to look?”
You didn’t answer - just swallowed another mouthful of tequila, refusing to give him the satisfaction.
“Your ego,” you continued, “gets in the way of you making rational decisions.”
He nodded as if that were fair, pulling a cigarette pack from his jacket. He slid one loose with his fingers. Held it out in silent offer.
You shook your head, but your eyes betrayed you - following the cigarette to his lips, to the flick of flame from his lighter, to the first long pull he drew in. The ember glowed. Smoke curled like something alive.
“Go on,” he said, voice like smoke itself. “That last bit felt like foreplay.”
The innuendo crawled over your skin - sharp, embarrassing, and traitorously warm.
“You’re a good agent,” you countered, lifting your empty glass toward him impatiently. He refilled it, cigarette dangling from those maddening lips. “But a shitty partner.”
“Yeah?” He refilled his own, took a sip, then a drag. “Why’s that?”
“Because you’d put your own needs above the mission. Above your partner’s.”
The word partner hit the air heavy. Weighted. Maybe it was the tequila. Maybe it was him.
His tongue clicked softly. “See… that’s where you’ve got me all wrong.”
“Oh please,” you scoffed. “You’re selfish. I’d have to watch my back twice with you out there.”
His grin stayed, but something behind it shifted - a flicker of something not entirely amused. He inhaled slowly, exhaled smoke directly toward you. It stung your eyes, but not enough to make you look away.
You’d smoke once in a while. Only dialed back for health reasons.
He leaned in slightly - just enough that you felt the warmth of his breath through the smoke.
“Querida,” he said, voice dipping into something low and molten, “if it were you and me out there…” His gaze dropped to your lips for a fraction of a second before returning to your eyes. “…I’d watch your back so closely you’d start wondering whether I was protecting you…” His voice lingered - smooth, dark, edged with something that made your pulse stutter. “…or staking a claim.”
“Fuck you…” you muttered - more breath than voice - and before the smarter part of your brain could catch up, your hand darted out, plucking the cigarette from his fingers with a practiced little theft. You dragged on it hard, the smoke burning just enough to steady you.
“That an offer?” Javi’s voice dropped, amused and low, his gaze tracking the shiver that ran through you. And he knew - oh, he knew - that it wasn’t the cold.
You kept the cigarette pinned between your lips as you shrugged out of your coat. Heat rolled through you in slow, syrupy pulses: tequila lingering on your tongue, irritation in your blood, and something molten pooling low in your stomach.
Hot ash flaked from the cigarette, landing on your thigh.
“Shit -” You brushed it off, and Javi’s laugh filled the cramped space, warm and infuriating. Before you could snap at him, he leaned in, thumb and forefinger gripping your jaw, turning your face back toward him.
He plucked the cigarette from your mouth, taking it back without looking away from your eyes. “Be polite next time,” he murmured, letting the smoke curl lazily out of his mouth. “Ask.”
You finally wrestled your coat free and shoved it aside, breath short, pulse annoyingly high. “You done now?” you bit out. “Or did you still have more filth to spit in my direction?”
“Oh, querida…” His grin sharpened. “If you only knew.”
You threw back the last of the tequila, the burn hitting your stomach like a spark meeting kindling. You reached for the cigarette again, but he lifted his arm above his head, impossibly casual.
“Ah-ah. Told you. Ask.”
“Just give me the damn cig, Javi.” You lunged across the console, fingers brushing his shirt - only for him to stop you with that same irritatingly precise grip on your jaw. You started to shove his hand away, but he brought the cigarette down slowly, nudging it against your lips until instinct made you part them.
You inhaled, smoke filling your lungs, his fingertips brushing your mouth. Too soft. Too intentional.
“Let’s practice the begging again,” he murmured.
You blew the smoke straight into his face, eyes locked on his. “Calláte.”
His grin split wide, wicked and pleased. He brought the cigarette to his own mouth, taking a long drag like a challenge. “Make me, cariño.”
The word hit you like a spark to dry tinder.
He exhaled, almost done with the cigarette, one brow arching. “Let’s try again. Want another drag?”
Your jaw clenched. Your pride wrestled with your need. And your mouth betrayed you first.
“Yes,” you ground out. “Please.”
His eyes darkened with victory. “See? Good girl.”
You barely had time to process the way those words shot straight through you - sharp, unwanted, electric - before he leaned in.
He didn’t blow the smoke away this time. He held your jaw, thumb pressing lightly beneath your chin, and exhaled a thin, warm stream directly into your mouth - slow, intimate and indecently controlled.
Your breath caught. Reflex had you taking it in. Leaning into him. Want without permission.
And then - his mouth brushed yours.
A soft, precise kiss. Barely pressure. Barely contact. But it detonated through you like a landmine.
You jerked back, coughing once, heat flickering across your skin. Javi just watched you, smug and intent, before flicking the cigarette out through the cracked window without breaking eye contact.
“You done now?” he asked, voice gravel-dipped and low enough to vibrate through your bones. “Because it’s my turn.”
He grabbed your glass and his at once, the bottles clinking softly as he tipped the last of the tequila into both. Liquid gold pooled, the last drops of bad decisions and worse timing.
“You wanna tell me what, exactly?” you snapped, reaching for your glass - but he lifted both out of range again, arm long and annoyingly steady. “That I’m what? Annoying? Uptight? Unbending?”
His brow arched slowly, like he was savoring the word. “Are you?” His gaze dragged down the length of you. “Unbending, I mean.”
“Watch me.”
Before the moment could break, you moved - quick, decisive, fueled by heat and irritation and something that felt too much like want. You pushed off your seat, climbed over the console, and dropped onto his lap with a confidence that surprised even you. His breath caught; his hands twitched. And in that flicker of surprise, you snatched your glass clean out of his grip.
Triumph shot through you. Still holding his stare, you tipped the tequila back in one smooth, reckless swallow.
“Querida,” he murmured, equal parts impressed and hungry. He mirrored you, throwing back his own shot, glass thunking somewhere behind him. His now-free hands slid immediately to your hips, fingers settling with a grip that made your stomach tighten.
“I said quit it with the pet names,” you whispered, razor-edged despite the warmth curling through your veins.
“And I said” - his hands tightened just enough to make your breath hitch - “ask nicely, and I might listen.”
You slapped his hands away, but he just let them fall back to your hips as if magnetized, claiming you again with more certainty. You made a half-hearted attempt to climb off him, but he held you in place and you didn’t push as hard as you should have.
He sat up straighter, bringing your bodies closer, closing the air between your faces until you could feel every syllable against your lips.
“Come on, do me the favor,” he murmured, the words brushing your mouth. “Give me a little plea. Just one.”
His breath was hot, tinged with smoke and tequila, and it slid right down your spine like a hand.
“Fuck you, Peña.”
His low laugh vibrated through your chest. “Close enough.”
And then he kissed you - hard, hungry - claiming the space you’d refused to give him with your words. His mouth pressed to yours like he’d been waiting all night for the excuse, for the moment the bickering snapped and something far more dangerous broke loose.
For a heartbeat, you forgot everything you were supposed to be.
The van. The mission. The rules. The voice in your head that told you to shove him away, to pull back, to create distance instead of closing it.
You didn’t.
You leaned into the kiss.
Not softly. Not cautiously. You met him with the same hunger, the same reckless heat that had been simmering under your skin all night. Your body reacted before your mind could catch up - hips shifting instinctively, closing the last of the space between you. He made a low sound against your mouth, half laugh, half breath, and the faint scrape of his mustache against your skin only made you more aware of how close he was. Of how real.
“There she is,” he murmured near your lips, voice rough with satisfaction. “Don’t tell me you’ve been pretending this whole time.”
“Talk less,” you breathed back, words breaking between kisses. “Do what you’re actually good at.”
A beat of silence - then the corner of his mouth curved.
“And what would that be?”
One of his hands slid firmly to the small of your back, grounding you, pressing you closer instead of letting you drift away. The other came up to your neck, tilting you exactly where he wanted you. His touch was infuriatingly precise, like he’d memorized the way you’d react before you even did.
“You need instructions now?” you murmured, breathless despite yourself.
“I need you to ask me,” he replied, voice low, steady. “Nicely.”
A laugh escaped you, bitter and soft all at once. “Best I can do is ask meanly.”
His fingers tangled lightly in your hair, tipping your head just a fraction as his mouth trailed from your jaw to your throat - a line of heat, of breath, of barely-there touch that made your grip tighten in his shirt.
“I’ll take the upgrade when I can get it,” he whispered, lifting your chin again so your eyes met.
You didn’t soften your voice. You sharpened it.
“Fuck me already, pendejo.”
Something darkly delighted flickered through him. His breath hitched, a rough laugh leaving him as his hand moved from your back to your waist, to the button of your jeans, opening it with practiced ease.
“Finally some orders I can work with.” With that he pulled down the zipper and slipped into your panties without warning.
Your reaction betrayed you before you could swallow it down - breath breaking, body tightening, a small sound slipping from you that had nothing to do with anger and everything to do with proximity. His fingers slipped through your middle, parting you slightly and exploring the wetness that had already pooled there. He collected some, sliding up just to give your clit a flick.
He paused only long enough to murmur, almost amused, “Look at you,” his brows knit, “soaked already at the thought of it.”
His touch turned exploratory instead of rushed, learning the language of your body while you fought and lost every battle at once. Without wanting to you whimpered, trying to look down to him, but his hand in your hair held you firmly in an overstretch. As your hips grinded against him again, wanting more, trying to guide his fingers deeper, you could feel his hardened cock pressing against you, eliciting a small grunt from Javi.
“Easy,” he breathed against your skin, tone changing - less teasing, more controlled now. “We’ve got time.”
You felt it anyway - the way your body responded to his touch, the way his sharp inhales betrayed just how close his restraint sat. The heat between you coiled tighter. His grip in your hair loosened a little and you fell forward finding hold in his shirt. “First I want to see you come on my lap.”
He slid his fingers deeper into you, palm pressing against your clit and holding you in a forbiddingly good angle. Then he moved with slow, impossible accuracy. Not hurried or careless. Like he was determined to make you fall apart slowly.
You bit down on your lip, refusing to give him the sound he clearly wanted from you.
It didn’t stop him from noticing.
“Mírame,” he murmured, voice softening for the first time. “That’s it. You’re doing beautifully. Riding my fingers like this.”
The praise hit harder than anything else. Heat climbed fast, fast enough that your fingers curled tighter in his shirt, breath turning uneven against the side of his neck.
He adjusted, sharper now in his movements, like he could feel the moment approaching even if you tried to deny it. His lips brushed your ear as he whispered, voice strained but controlled, “Just like that, cariño, make yourself come.”
You stopped fighting.
Your forehead dropped to his shoulder, the fabric of his leather jacket cool against your overheated skin. Your breath fractured, clenching around his fingers as the tension finally snapped. You pressed closer without thinking, a broken half-sob caught somewhere between relief and surrender.
His hand steadied you, firm and warm.
“Perfect,” he whispered against your hair. “Let go. Give yourself to it.”
He didn’t move away, held you through your orgasm, while you pressed yourself into his movements.
For a moment, he simply stayed where he was, letting you breathe against him.
Then his hands slipped from your center out your pants, but not fully away - one settling at your ribcage, grounding, steady, thumb brushing small, lazy circles as your pulse slowed.
“Still got a mouth full of curses for me?” His voice was low, pleased, warm with the kind of satisfaction you hated how much you liked it.
You lifted your head just enough to glare at him. “Even more than before,” you said breathlessly.
A slow grin stretched across his mouth. “Good.”
His hands moved with intention again - sliding under the hem of your long sleeve, warm palms tracing the bare skin of your waist and ribs. It felt less like urgency and more like claiming space. With a gentle tug, he helped you out of it, fabric slipping away and landing somewhere forgotten.
In return your fingers hooked into the collar of his jacket, dragging it off his shoulders, nails grazing along his neck and into his hair. When his mouth dropped to the warm skin between your collarbone and your chest, his kisses weren’t rushed - they were purposeful. His hands worked at the clasp of your bra with the kind of confidence that told you exactly how familiar he was with this.
The cold air inside the van bit where fabric disappeared, making your nipples hard.
He noticed.
A soft, amused exhale left him. “Poor thing,” he murmured with mock pity. He lowered his lips onto the soft skin of your breasts, closing around one nipple, first caressing softly, then sucking, teeth grazing.
Your hands drifted down his front without thinking, finding his hard cock beneath the jeans and cupping it with firm grip. His breath stuttered against your skin and he froze only long enough to warn you, voice rougher now. “Giving you a heads-up now: I won’t be gentle unless you ask.”
You huffed a quiet laugh. “What’s with you and begging? Didn’t get enough manners growing up?”
His head tilted, eyes dark. “Find out.”
You leaned into him, softening your mouth into something dangerously close to innocence. “Oh, please,” you said, mock-sweet, the word dancing between teasing and challenge. You shifted on his lap deliberately. “Please take care of me.”
Your lashes fluttered. Your hands tightened.
Something about his expression changed. Interest sharpened into something dangerous. He shook his head slightly, almost to himself.
You barely had time to realize what you’d triggered before he moved you off his lap entirely.
Your knees hit his seat; your hands found the cushion of your own seat for balance. The space in the van shifted. The mood sharpened into something heavier.
He positioned himself behind you - one knee braced between your legs, nudging them open just a bit, the other leg grounded - and his hand traveled up the line of your spine. When it reached your neck, he guided you down firmly onto your forearms, arching your back without asking.
“Keep mocking me,” he murmured. “I dare you.”
You stayed quiet.
The waistband of your jeans slid down in one smooth motion. Cool air kissed newly bare skin. He made no effort to hide the sound of his breath as he took in the sight of you from that angle.
His hand traced over your ass once.
Then, without warning, the sharp heat of his palm landed against you.
You jolted, a broken sound leaving your throat before you could stop it. “Fuck -” you started, breathless, furious, unfiltered.
Another slap - not cruel, not entirely, but a tad harder even.
His hand returned to your neck, grounding you, pressing you forward.
“Been wanting to knock that attitude out of you all night,” he said quietly, voice tight. “Now behave.”
You heard fabric move. A zipper. The subtle shift of his weight. Then: the shuffle of clothes and the tearing of plastic, which landed on the floor of the van moments later, while he took his time, rolling the condom over his length.
Anticipation climbed too fast, too hot.
You felt him hesitate - right where your body wanted him - nudging his tip at your entrance, just enough to make your breath stutter. His hand loosened at your neck, fingers sliding back into your hair, not gripping but grazing.
You understood instantly.
“Peña,” you breathed, frustration and need tangling.
“Yes?” he answered, maddeningly calm.
“Just -” Pride twisted in your chest. Dignity clawed its way back up. He waited patiently, while dragging his cock up and down your slit.
His touch softened at your scalp. “Just say it.”
Your eyes squeezed shut.
“…Please.”
A quiet laugh vibrated behind you. “Didn’t catch that.”
You hated him. You wanted him. You melted anyway. You had a thousand swearwords ready to spit at him. Instead: “Please,” you repeated, softer, more honest than you wanted.
“With pleasure.”
The moment shifted - no more teasing delay, no more waiting. He closed the final distance in one smooth motion, and the breath left your lungs all at once as heat, tension, and frustration finally turned into something that felt dangerously close to relief as he bottomed out.
But he didn’t move at first.
That was the cruelest part of it.
Instead of giving in to the momentum you’d braced for, he stayed exactly where he was - close enough to steal your breath, close enough to make your muscles tighten around the unfamiliar stretch of him. Your body had to adjust in its own time, every sensation sharpening instead of blurring.
You bit down on a sound that had nowhere to go.
“That your plan now?” you muttered, breath trembling. “Make me beg for every thrust?”
A low chuckle vibrated behind you.
Without warning, he pulled out nearly completely - just enough to make the loss sting - and then returned with purpose, stealing the rest of the air from your lungs in one sharp motion. The words you’d prepared collapsed into nothing but a broken sound.
“Not a plan,” he said, voice tight, controlled. “Just not rushing the part I’ve been imagining.”
“Then imagine faster,” you managed, the edge of heat and defiance still clinging to your voice.
That earned you another sharp slap on your ass, before he caressed the now oversensitive spot.
“Let me have this,” he murmured. “Might be the only time I ever get to fuck that attitude out of your system.”
You laughed breathlessly, words caught between uneven breaths. “Definitely will be.”
“We’ll see about that,” he said, and his hands slid from your waist only to come back stronger - gripping, guiding, pulling you closer into the motion that finally started to build a rhythm. “You’re not exactly fighting me. Kinda get the feeling, you enjoy it, too.”
“Would help,” you snapped weakly, nails digging into the fabric beneath you, “if you stopped talking.”
Instead of another jab, he laughed - soft, breathless - and his hand curved gently to your throat. He pulled you more upright, creating space between your body and the seat in the cramped little space of the van.
Your breath broke. Sounds slipped out wrong, fractured.
But finally - finally - he gave in to the rhythm instead of hovering at the edge of it and his thrusts became more frequent. His other hand moved with quiet certainty, steadying your hips, tracing the line of your body like he wanted to anchor you there.
When a sound betrayed you, he leaned in, chin ghosting your shoulder, placing slow, deliberate kisses along whatever skin he could reach. You felt the shape of his smile against you.
“You like it,” he murmured. “The way you finally let go. Let someone else hold the control for once.”
“Only thing…. i feel…,” you answered through gasps, refusing to soften even when your voice did, “you doing exactly what you always do... Looking out for yourself.”
The smile faded. Not anger - something sharper.
“Can’t have that now, can we, querida?” he said quietly, and suddenly there was no teasing left in the way he moved. His hand wandered from your breast he had just cupped down your belly, sliding between your wet folds and circling your clit. More patient. Like he had something to prove. “Cannot have you keep that picture of me either,” his voice was harsh, underlining his movements that became more erratic. “You can call me lazy, you even may call me a pendejo. But”, his next movement was hard and unrelenting, “you don’t get to call me selfish.”
His movement sharpened after that, rougher and a little more careless.
Your eyes fell shut without permission.
Your body betrayed you again, arching into it, sending silent signals before your mind could stop them. And he could feel the small spasms around his cock.
“That’s it,” he whispered. “You’re not running. You’re not fighting. You’re right here.”
Your breath fractured when his name slipped from your lips without planning.
“Javi…” A plea. A beg.
He froze for half a heartbeat - just long enough to catch it.
And he remembered exactly what he’d done to get it.
He stayed in that motion. That pressure. That exact pace. He kept you right there - no more teasing, no more delays - until the tension coiled too tightly to hold. Until your hands slipped forward and caught your weight on shaking arms, and your forehead dipped toward the seat.
Your breath broke completely.
Your muscles tightened and then fell apart, wave after wave, the release rushing through you with no more room to resist it.
He followed you a heartbeat later.
You felt it in the way his breath gave out - no longer controlled, no longer careful. His grip tightened, then steadied. A low sound slipped from him as he spilled into the condom, snapping his hips sharp against your backside.
His hand moved up your spine again, slower this time. Less claiming. More grounding.
When he finally pulled out, the absence felt louder than the noise of your breath - a hollow, lingering echo that your body noticed immediately. But the way he guided you upright was different now. Not rough. Not rushed. Careful, almost considerate.
“You good?” he asked quietly.
You didn’t have it in you to bite back. Not when your limbs still felt like they belonged to someone else - or nowhere at all. Instead, you tipped your chin over your shoulder and caught his eyes in the dim. A small, tired nod. Honest.
Denim dragged back into place as you righted yourself, fingers fumbling with buttons, hips shifting awkwardly as you wiggled back into your jeans with a soft huff of breath.
He did the same - the sound of zippers, fabric, the low rustle of leather in the cramped space.
Then, like bodies finally registering gravity again, you both dropped back into your seats at nearly the same time.
The laugh that left you wasn’t planned. Neither was his. It spilled out of both of you - unsteady, breathless - not from humor, exactly, but from the absurdity of it. The shock, the relief, the quiet “what the fuck just happened?” echoing between you.
You fumbled blindly for your shirt, dragging it over your head without bothering for your bra first. You just needed warmth, a layer between your skin and the cooling air.
As you smoothed your hair back into place, your eyes flicked sideways.
He already had a cigarette between his fingers, lighter clicking.
As his eyes met yours, he held the package to you. “Want one?”
You leaned over without answering, plucked his straight from his mouth, and took a slow drag.
“I’ll take this one,” you murmured.
He huffed a laugh through his nose. “You’re something,” he said. “No point pretending otherwise.”
“Surprised?” you asked, eyebrow lifting as you exhaled.
“Intrigued,” he replied immediately - like he’d been waiting for the word.
He reclaimed the cigarette from your fingers, took his own slow drag, and your eyes stayed on him a beat too long, because you were trying to figure him out and failing in real time.
You opened your mouth to return fire -
When the sky detonated.
Color burst through the windshield. Light stuttered across the interior of the van. Sharp cracks split the air.
Both of you flinched on instinct - muscle memory - before reality caught up.
Fireworks.
You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.
“Happy New Year,” he said, voice warm as the van filled with flickering reds and blues. The cigarette glowed between his fingers. He glanced sideways at you, grin slow, familiar. “You know what they say. Start the year right.”
You leaned closer - not rushing - until your face hovered inches from his. The fireworks lit your profiles in bursts and shadows, coloring your eyes with borrowed light.
“We didn’t start it,” you said softly. You leaned closer still. “We ended the old one right.”
His gaze dropped to your lips. Just a flicker. Just long enough to prove the thought was there.
“You still think you’re always right?” he asked, voice dipping.
“I know I am,” you said, voice smooth.
A slow exhale left him through his nose. “Careful, querida. I like a challenge.”
You smiled - real this time.
“Looks like you found one.”
Outside, the fireworks kept singing. Blooms of color filling the dark sky. Reflected in the windshield. In his eyes.
The truck was still there. Sealed you in. Trapped you both. You leaned back slightly, glancing toward the blocked alley.
“You think our rescue team’s taking their time on purpose?” you asked.
He lifted the empty tequila bottle, tilting it. The glass clicked softly.
“Hope not,” he said. “Can’t even do a proper New Year’s toast.”
His eyes flicked from the empty bottle to you just as you stole his cigarette again, drawing slow from it.
“But,” he added, voice dropping, “we could still start the year right. Keep tradition alive.”
You let out a soft, incredulous laugh, smoke slipping from your lips. “You can’t be serious.”
His smirk answered before his voice did. “Just killing time,” he said, leaning closer. “Honoring tradition. What do you say, querida?”
You stubbed the cigarette out in the console ashtray, the faint hiss sounding louder than it should have. He moved closer as you leaned back, letting the seat creak under your weight - casual, deliberate, giving him room.
His hand found your waist.
Slow and unhurried.
“Maybe,” you said, eyes holding his as he hovered over you, breath close enough to steal. A sharp little grin pulled at your mouth.
I like your writing style. Could you write about Javier? Any genre is fine, your style is great.
Javier Escuella Headcanons
He's romantic in the traditional sense. He'll serenade you and bring you flowers to put in your hair.
He hums/sings while bathing. Also, if someone walks in on him bathing he'll shriek like a girl.
He is obsessed with hygiene, and he tries to be as clean as possible. In his mind, his entire world is full of chaos and unpredictability. He feels a sense of control and order when he washes and dresses himself in the best way possible.
He regularly curses people in Spanish, but under his breath as if he assumes everyone knows Spanish.
He's not very observant, he zones out and misses things because he wasn't listening. He's also a bit clumsy and accidentally bumps into tables.
He'll tease you if you blush/stutter while talking to him. But he means it in a friendly way, I promise.
Nsfw
He'll hold eye contact the entire time. He doesn't want you to look away. He wants you to look him in the eyes when you come undone.
He's a very passionate kisser, and he wants to kiss you all over your body, every scar, every birthmark, every mole.
He runs his hands over you slowly, mapping your skin and watching your reactions. He remembers what you like best and uses it to his advantage in the future.
He whispers in your ear, telling you how good you feel, how much he loves you, speaking to you in Spanish.
If he's topping, he actually enjoys pulling out and coming on your skin. If he's bottoming, he also prefers you pull out and cum on his back or stomach.
He enjoys having someone touch his hair, just gently running their fingers through it and massaging his scalp. He nearly purrs like a cat.
He doesn't fall asleep right away after you're both done; he likes to talk to you about the experience, and he wants to know what you enjoyed and what he can improve on.
He loves to make you feel good, it fills him with pride. Don't be surprised when his ego is suddenly inflamed after having sex with him.
Thinking about Javier fucking you from the back while you desperately try to focus on your studies. It's not his fault really, you were the one who thought it was a good idea to study on your bed.
Laying on your stomach in your sweet silky pajamas, the arch of your back from your propped elbows as you chewed on your pencil, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Really, it wasn't his fault that you looked tempting while studying. And the way the dress hugs the curve of your ass was not helping at all.
You seemed stress there, so like a good boyfriend that he is he plopped himself behind you because what else would be a good stress relief if not a little 'massage'?
Thrusting into you, slow and deep as though making sure you can feel every inch of his cock. But he's not trying to distract you swears :( he just wants you to relax is all so just focus on your studies okay? He promised he'll be quiet.
And you can't AND MUST NOT think about his sloppy kisses on your neck nor the thrust of his hips against yours because god forbids you give in lest you'll fail your test tomorrow.
But how can you ignore the weight of his body, the warmth of his sweaty figure pressed against yours like a beast in heat, head buried in your neck as he (tried to) quietly cooed in your ear. His girl is so smart he can't help but show his appreciation; he lifts your hips up, pressing deeper into you and that's when you lost it. He kept thrusting you forward over and over and over till you could barely write a coherent sentence.
The papers, now forgotten, crumpled from your movements as your hands bunched up the bedsheets, pencil still in hand. "Mm! Mmf mmph-!" You moaned into the bed.
"Amor, stay focus. Your test is— hah- tomorrow remember?" He says as the slap of his balls echoes in the room.
hii, I'd like to request headcanons or a one-shot of Arthur Morgan with a partner!reader who loves physical contact, like Is her principal love language and she loves everybody in camp (OFC except Micah). Would Arthur feel overhelmed or jealous because he Is not so much time in camp or would simply love it? Idk I can't think for myself right now
arthur morgan x touchy!fem!reader
(not proofread, as always)
OOOHHHHH anon i see the vision here and it is bright...
arthur tends to elope often, tending to leave before the sun rises and return far into the night. this means that his partner, you, are left to yourself most of the time.
you went into the relationship knowing this, obviously. arthur always gets himself wound up in deals, fights, or other various situations, but sometimes, you just needed that presence. anytime he returned, you'd always hold onto him, grabbing his arm, pulling the side of your body flush to his, brushing his hair back, rubbing your thumb along his knuckles, brushing his ankle with yours.
but, when he's gone... well, you have to fill that void somehow. not unfaithfully, just... pressing boundaries. hugging the girls more often, pressing up against others when sitting down, guiding hands around. little things.
he returned one evening, much earlier than normal -- golden streaks still in the sky, changing the low-hanging clouds into a rosy pink -- and stalked towards his tent. he expected to find you in there, but heard your voice coming from the fire. he wiped some dirt from his brow and sauntered off in that direction, only to see you practically cuddled up with javier. his chest was to your back, his arms around your body to guide your fingers on the guitar placed in your lap.
to you, it was simply a friend teaching you how to play. javier loved spending time with people, and you loved getting that physical touch in. a win-win, right?
not to arthur. he felt something tighten in his chest at the sight, a burning sensation that he didn't allow to the surface. he released a small grumble before approaching, sitting down firmly on the log across from you two, stirring you out of your focus.
"oh, arthur! you're back," you quickly managed out, patting javier's knee to have him lift the guitar away from you. arthur watched impassively as you rounded the flames and immediately grabbed him into a hug, sinking into his wide lap.
"i'm back," he muttered, looking down at you with that look. on the outside, he seemed completely calm, but you could always tell whenever he had something on his mind, and the way he practically stared down through you was a pretty good tell.
"is... is something the matter?" you questioned quietly, straightening up. you placed your hands on his shoulders, then slid one up to cradle his rough jaw.
"is something the matter," he chuckled dryly, though there was no humor in it. he sighed heavily, placing his hands on his thighs to stand up with a shake of his head. "you just never learn, d'ya?"
you gave him a confused look, unwillingly sliding out of his hold to let him stand. "arthur, i don't--"
"you damn well do," he huffed, grabbing you by the wrist and tugging you along with an uncharacteristic force. it wasn't painful, by any means, just sudden; not the gentle guiding he typically did. this was a command wrapped in smoke.
he took you back to your shared tent, glancing back briefly at the lack of privacy. you made him get a full tent cover, refusing to sleep anywhere near the open, but it was still... just a cloth. with an annoyed click of his jaw, he turned his focus entirely back to you.
"now, care to explain t'me why you were getting all cozy with little javier, there?" he began in that same matter-of-fact tone, like he was discussing buying a damn horse.
you raised your hands to placate him, brows shifting. "arthur, i..." you reached out to touch his arm gently, then curled your hand into a fist and pulled away. "i'm sorry if it came off that way. really, i am. i-- it's just, with you gone all the time... it gets... lonely."
something in his eyes softened at that, nearly imperceptibly. he remained silent, giving you a small nod: go on.
"i didn't mean to make you think i was unfaithful; i do it with everybody around camp," you continued, fidgeting with your nails.
"everybody?" he repeated, brows raised in interest.
"no, not-- not like that," you huffed exasperatedly. "you're taking it the wrong way."
"what other way is there f'me to take it?" he countered, releasing a long sigh as he lowered himself onto the thin mattress. he tapped his thigh twice, looking at you intently.
as much as you wanted to, you simply folded your arms and turned away. "i am just-- oh, you have no idea how i'm feelin' right now, do you?"
he reached out and took you by the elbow, grunting a small, "there y'go," as he settled you down into his hold.
the two of you remained silent for a good while. yours out of stubbornness and slight hurt; his out of thought.
"... i'll try to stop by more often," he concluded quietly, refusing to look at you. that rough timbre never left his voice, but it'd softened in reflection. "just don't... go cozying up to people like that, y'hear?"
you didn't respond, prompting him to turn your face up with fingers on your jawline.
"you're being unfair," you said, looking up at him with glassy eyes and furrowed brows.
"y'knew what you were gettin' into with me, don't try and deny it," he hummed, brushing a finger along your temple. he could feel the way you fought your instincts to not sink in. "i can't always be around."
"then i can't always help myself, can i?" you replied in a grumble. that finally coaxed a breathy laugh out of him, astonished by your refusal to back down.
"you are probably one of the most stubborn, insolent women i've ever met, y'know that?"
"insolent-?! oh, i'll show you insolent, mister--"
he silenced you with a soft kiss pressed to your lips, just enough to make your heart kickstart. he rubbed your thigh through your skirt, gazing down at you with those puppy-dog eyes he somehow hid.
"that doesn't make me feel any better," you grumbled, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. you pressed your forehead into his collar, breathing in the scent of wood, sweat, and something uniquely arthur. another long moment of silence fell upon you two, his hand stroking your back, before he gave in.
"... you really wanna hold onto people like that?" he murmured. he felt you nod.
"if you're not here."
"mm," he hummed thoughtfully, his brow creasing. "all right... if it makes you happy, then i guess that's what matters."
you looked back up at him. "you won't be mad?"
his lips twitched upward slightly at the sight of your face, but he continued that mask of gentle stoicism.
"i won't be mad," he assured with a nod. "you could never make me mad at you."
you couldn't help the smile that took over your lips, pulling tightly on your cheeks until you had to hide your face in his neck again.
"... well, unless..." he continued, patting your lower back.
"unless?"
"unless you cozy up to micah. then i'd have t'admit you're a lost cause."
you barked out a laugh at that, pushing arthur's shoulder roughly, earning a tight smile from him. "i would never!"
"no? don't wanna give the old-timer a hug?" he teased dryly.
"no!" you laughed, sighing gently after. "go to bed, arthur."
"alright, alright, i'm goin'," he gave in without a fight, lying down and pulling you with him. he let you curl up against him tightly for the entire night.
and when the sun came, and arthur's bones urged him to get up and go... he stayed in bed for just a few more minutes than usual before pressing a kiss to your forehead and setting off.
As a petty thief from Saint Denis you were nothing more than a city rat trying to get by until you got a lead on a big score, bigger than anything you'd tried before. A luxurious riverboat. What you didn't know is that a notorious gang had their eyes on the same score at a much bigger scale and you find yourself tangled with one of the gunmen. An awkward Mexican man that can't seem to get his eyes off of you.
wc : 7k (Truly sorry, first time writing after a while)
Warnings/tags: smut, p in v sex, explicit depiction of sex, semi public sex, masturbation, teasing, edging, blowjob, accidental creampie, strangers to lovers, mention of hardships, pathetic Javier, Sub Javier, Dom reader, reader is female and depicted with female genitals, Sean x reader mentioned, I do not know what more to say but I will say sorry.
AGAIN, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.
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Saint Denis had always been a harsh city for anyone that didn’t have a high income or came from a wealthy family. You had been well aware of that fact since you were just a mere feeble girl, left alone to fend for yourself in a city so ruthless even a child wasn't safe from its grasp. Orphans didn't last too long in this city, the lucky ones got small jobs where they were overworked and underpaid but the not so lucky ones.. Some of them dropped dead after a while, too weak to even move after starving for so long, forgotten and ignored and only being noticed by the crew that cleaned the streets in the morning. Others managed to get by asking for money in the streets and the rest turned into prostitution or ,in your case, to petty theft.
That night you were sitting by the harbor of Saint Denis, you were scanning the area, shielded from any prying eyes by a wall of neatly stacked crates and barrels. You didn't have a big bounty on your head but were well known by the local authorities at that point from your multiple small thefts so you were trying to lay low for now.
The crisp and humid night air was messing with your hair and it brought with it the unmistakable nasty stench of the docks that was sure to stick to your skin. Rotting fish guts, burnt coal and overall filth that washed up from the river, including the occasional corpse since Angelo Bronte took control of the whole city and made his mission to make everyone’s life miserable. Oh, how you hated the docks.. but tonight you had a good reason to be there, a lead, a juicy one at that. One of your friends — if you could call it that — a young man that, same as you, had a hard start in life and resigned himself to being a petty thief, told you about a riverboat party full of rich folks that could be interesting.
There would be a high stakes poker night at the Grand Korrigan riverboat so any rich assholes that felt lucky and had a pocket full of money to spend would be there tonight. And so would be their jewelry and expensive watches, you hoped. This would be one of the biggest “heists” you'd try in your life so you were.. slightly on edge.
Still, here you were, dressed in a puffy light green dress that you stole and a corset so tight you hoped you wouldn’t pass out from lack of oxygen. You were looking every bit like a dumb rich lady that was in dire need of a fun night and some company and not some filthy city rat that desperately needed some money.
The plan was simple:
1.- Charm a rich lonely man to get into the riverboat without raising any suspicion.
2.- Rob anything you could get your hands on.
3.- …
That was it.
You didn't think it through, that was for sure. Stylish getaways weren’t your strong suit, ok? You were more of a “Do it on the fly or so help me god” kind of girl and it had worked for you so far so why change it now? Also, you were desperate to get something to eat that week and you’d be damned if this wasn't going to be your night. So with your tits about to pop out from the top part of your corset and a practiced look that screamed “im an easy target” you made your way towards the boarding passage.
To say that your years as a Saint Denis pickpocket and thief taught you to blend in as a high society lady was an understatement. You could bullshit your way into any fancy party or any exclusive event just by playing rich and dumb, and if that failed —which was rare — you could sneak in just fine. This was the way you survived afterall, and you were good at it.
You looked around, trying to spot an easy target. You could only distinguish guards, stuck up men boarding the boat and some women that accompanied them that definitely didn't look like their wives. Much too young and eager to please to be.. Then you spotted a small group of men that didn't have any female company and you studied them to see if they could be your ticket inside that boat.
They were four, a tall one with a thick moustache, cane and a top hat, an older man that looked way too serious, a burly looking man that kept tugging at his clothes like they didn't belong to him and a shorter one with a ponytail smoking a cigarette.
All of them were dressed elegantly and talked to each other in a cheerful way. The one with the cane seemed to be loud and outgoing when he greeted them and as they chatted you noticed they were vastly different from each other. The older man seemed to be from Europe, maybe German or Austrian and kept to himself, the big one had a southern accent and seemed to be very uncomfortable and the one smoking was relaxed , he sounded Mexican. Odd, usually rich folk didn't mingle with Mexicans, even wealthy ones. Studying the man closer you noticed he was wearing a beautiful black suit immaculately styled that made him look sharp and , in your humble opinion, very attractive. He was cleanly shaven but kept his mustache with a curious style you hadn’t seen before in the city and his hair was tied into a neat ponytail. He had a few scars on his face and his eyes were a beautiful shade of dark brown , intense and deep as he looked at you.
Wait.
He was looking directly at you.
With a soft gasp you snapped out of it and looked away trying to act nonchalant and hide the fact that you've been staring at the group, luckily he would ignore it and think you were just another racist prick judging him. After a few moments you peeked again only to find his dark and piercing eyes boring into yours.
Shit, ok. You looked away and turned on your heels. New plan.
Deciding they were not an ideal target you looked for an easier one and after a while you finally found the perfect idiot. A virtually brain dead rich man that was way too excited to have his hands on you so he would have to do. Once charmed —which didn't take much, it felt downright pathetic— he led you into the boat promising you “the night of your life” in his company and you just chuckled, acting like the perfect oblivious young woman and trying to push down the gag that was threatening to come out when he graphically described what he would like to do to you.
The boat was luxurious, a stark difference from the rathole you lived in back in the city. There was lavish furniture everywhere, a constant parade of servers bringing you drinks and snacks to the comfortable seats your escort procured for you both and everything smelled like expensive cologne so much that you felt nauseous. Or maybe it was the 2 whiskeys you downed to be able to stand this man, you were not sure yet.
It didn't take you long before you got him drunk enough to snatch his wallet with practiced dexterity. All too easy for you.. Or so you thought because when you were bagging the stolen wallet you raised your eyes only to find his again. The man from the dock, the one with the Mexican accent and the dark eyes staring right at you again. He was standing by one of the doors with a cigarette in his hand and his head low, leaning against a door. He was alone this time.
Fuck.
He definitely saw you stealing that wallet. You froze. The boat was full of guards and a thief wouldn't be too welcomed here. When your eyes connected yours were hesitant and guarded and his were really hard to read but he almost looked.. amused? The tense standoff continued for a few seconds that seemed to stretch forever while your heart rate picked up in your chest.
The drunken fool you were robbing didn't have the slightest idea of this situation unfolding so he kept trying to nuzzle your neck, thinking you were getting closer and thankfully that was distracting him from the man staring behind him. You couldn't control the scowl this time. Then, without a warning, the man broke eye contact and kept walking like he had somewhere else to be, disappearing into a hallway.
You were dumbstruck, that should have been your first clue that he and his friends were not your typical rich fellows but at least he didn’t tell the guards just yet so there was that. Either pity or something else entirely you were not going to argue with results.
Once the idiot you picked as your companion wasn't of much use to you anymore, you excused yourself saying that you needed some fresh air and walked away to find another target so you headed towards the main room where the games would be taking place. You walked confidently and curtly greeted any guards or guests that you found in your way there. You were a natural at this and since you acted like you belonged there no one batted an eye.
Everything seemed to be working as you intended until..
THUD
As you rounded a corner you heard a loud thud and stopped dead in your tracks, then a voice.. then you saw it.
”Mierda qué cabeza más dura tienes, cabrón..” *
*”Shit, you have a thick skull , you bastard..”
Standing by a very unconscious guard was, again, the Mexican man, nursing his hand like he just punched the lights out of the guard, which apparently he had. Life sure had a sense of humor making you the one to stumble upon this situation.
He started to pick up the unconscious guard, probably fully intending to shove him into the closet behind them when he spotted you and he froze too, his eyes snapped wide open and were once more fixed on you for the third time that night.
You should have bolted out of there like he did when he saw you taking the wallet and return the favor but his eyes had you pinned to the floor and a very awkward silence had settled between you.
”I, uh- “ He started. “He’s… he’s fine” He stuttered, breaking the silence after a few seconds.
That.. was the last thing you had been expecting from him to be honest and it floored you so much that against your better judgement you just laughed at how awkward he looked and the overall situation
“He doesn't look like it..” You said between giggles.
—
There you were, the lady from the docks again. You seemed to be everywhere today ,not that he’d been following you.. too much. He had been keeping an eye on you since he caught you staring at the docks, first he was suspicious of you but when he caught you stealing a wallet he finally understood that you were just a thief much like himself and the gang were. But that wasn't the only reason he had been staring, he couldn't lie, you were beautiful, absolutely stunning and very much his type and all dolled up you were pure eye candy. And being honest, the fact that you were wearing a corset so tight he could perfectly see your cleavage when you shoved that wallet inside had his mind reeling so bad he had to walk away.
But now you had caught him red handed when he was about to strip naked this guard and take his uniform to follow Trelawny’s plan and he was left frozen in place, unsure about what to do next.
That was until you laughed. After you did he relaxed slightly, he just chuckled along awkwardly, your laugh sounded sweet and genuine even in a moment like this and it helped ease the tension but didn't make it any easier for him to speak.
”So..” You started, gaining a little more confidence “How about I forget all of this..” you motioned to the guard on the floor. “..and you forget about the wallet? No questions asked. Sounds fair?” You asked with a smirk, deeply amused by the whole thing, it seemed.
Oh, that smirk did something to him. He tried to cover the fact that he was starting to blush and fidgeted with his gloves. Finally he got a hold of himself and smiled at you with what he tried to be a charming smile but ended up more like a loop sided grin.
”Deal, cielo.”
You seemed to like it because you chuckled again, something that made his heart flutter in his chest.
”See you around, dear, be more careful next time will ya? This place is full of guards.” With that you waved and turned around to leave.
“Will do, querida.. will do, try not to get caught either and uh.. stay safe, this may get.. dangerous tonight.”
You turned around with a sly grin and nodded, thankful about the heads up.
He took a good look at your rear as you walked away with his head turned lightly to the side and a stupid grin plastered on his face. He had been the exact opposite of smooth but damn you were a sight for sore eyes and judging by your reaction you had some fire in you. He liked that. Then he remembered he was there for a reason. ”Shit..right” He murmured to himself and took the body again.
After he put on the guard’s uniform and left the unconscious body inside a nearby closet he made his way to the main room as he was supposed to do. Trelawny’s plan for him was to pose as a guard and accompany Arthur to the safe upstairs when he won all the rigged games, then they would take everything and bolt out of there.
He reached the main room and took his position, standing still between the side doors and Arthur's table. He was already playing the rigged games and, with Strauss's help, everything was going according to plan so he just had to wait for the next part of the plan and pose as a guard.
Javier scanned the main room, a luxurious open space with poker tables where all the big shots were gambling with enough money to buy a small village. It felt repulsive. At the end of the long room there was a bar where he could see that Trelawny was already making himself the center of attention with his loud and overly dramatic antics to make it easier for Arthur and Strauss to cheat. And by the bar ..
Ay, madre..
Of course it was you, he was almost expecting it at that point. Even looking forward to it. You were looking at him with a smirk and a glass of wine, leaning your back against the bar and sitting with your legs crossed, enough to let him see your bare calf. He straightened up real quick.
You seemed to be amused and in an excellent mood, taking in his new look. Maybe you had managed to get a good loot from the many men that seemed to be trying to get your attention.. you didn't seem too bothered by it, in fact, it almost looked like you were in your element but you still scowled a few times when they got too close. You’ve done this before, he was sure of that. Then you subtly raised your glass in his direction as a toast and he gave you a small wave. HE WAVED. Like a fucking KID. He cringed internally. What was he thinking !?
To his absolute surprise and relief you just chuckled, giving him a genuine smile. You were an odd one, that was for sure, but you had him in a chokehold.
As time passed he couldn't help it and found his focus shifting from Arthur's game and the mission to you. He caught a glimpse of how masterfully you snatched rings, wallets and watches from the men around you and how smug you looked anytime you managed to bag them without getting caught. He was impressed.. and a little turned on. He found your skills incredibly attractive but when you turned around and winked at him with a new gold watch in your grasp he felt something stir inside of him and a familiar buzz started to creep down his spine.
Were you.. teasing him now?
He wanted to scoff, to roll his eyes, he couldn't let you get to him so easily so he just smirked back and shook his head, trying to look as nonchalant as he could but still playful. Then you pouted and it all went out of the window. There was heat pooling in his lower stomach and this guy's pants were starting to feel a little tight. The idea of you teasing him in the middle of this dangerous place was making his head spin with all sorts of images he was not supposed to be having right now or he could ruin the entire heist.
But you were relentless. As you grew bolder you even started approaching his side of the room, swaying your hips and giving him a show whenever you got closer. It was more of a tactical move, you knew he wouldn't say anything so it was easier to steal over that area but part of him hoped it was also because you wanted to be closer to him. His hopes grew exponentially high when you sauntered over to him.
“Good night, sir, may I ask for your help?” Your voice was nothing but a low purr that shot a wave of arousal right to his already semi-hard cock and he felt it twitch. He moved his rifle enough to cover his arousal. How could he be this bothered by a random woman? He didn't know but his mind was reeling so bad he forgot to answer until one of the other guards looked at him and coughed.
“Uh. Oh. Me? Y-yeah, of course, ma'am. How can I help?” He stuttered. Pure untold elegance. Not at all pathetic.
“I need to get out for a moment but I'm not so sure where the restrooms are… could you perhaps help me find them?” Your voice was measured, innocent if he didn't know any better.
Javier had half a mind to look at Trelawny discreetly, who had been keeping an eye on him, and although confused he nodded. They couldn't raise suspicion now, if a woman asked for help the guards were supposed to help. Arthur still had a while to go and a trip to the bathroom wouldn't make much of a difference, he hoped. If that was even what you wanted.
“Of course, ma'am, follow me, right this way” He opened the door for you and led the way towards the deck, curious about just what the hell you were thinking. Once outside he thanked the gust of cold night air that graced his heated skin, he desperately needed to relax. He then heard you sigh and turned to look at you.
Bathed in silver moonlight you looked like you just came out of a dream, a particularly good one where he would wake up drenched in sweat and panting.. And again, all his resolve crumbled, rendering him speechless and staring at you with his mouth opening and closing. His questions were completely forgotten.
You took pity on him and smiled. “Thank you for that, I needed to get out, not sure if you noticed the clinking but I could not carry any more loot even if I wanted to.” Then you raised your dress to show him how under all those puffy skirts you had two full bags of loot strapped firmly to your thighs and a garter belt with a simple knife. He was not looking at either of them when he bit down a whine.
His eyes turned completely black from his pupils dilating at the sight and his hand twitched over the rifle he was holding.
“Uh.. nothing.. good job” He facepalmed himself mentally. Definitely he was not the pinnacle of elegance or resolve today. He was as charming as a sack of potatoes falling down a flight of stairs.
You noticed. Of course you noticed, because your smile turned devilish and that doomed him. He tried to swallow but his mouth was dry and his eyes fixed on you as you put down your dress and got closer to him. A move that made him grip the rifle until his knuckles turned white. The effect of the cold night air definitely didn't last too long when the smell of your subtle perfume hit him and some feral part of himself came alive.
“You know.. I had fun tonight.. if you have time I'd like to thank you properly for letting me off the hook. Never had a “partner in crime” of sorts.. and much less one so handsome, it felt nice.” You tentatively reached out and caressed his forearm with the tips of your fingers while keeping eye contact with him through your long lashes and his brain short-circuited. Did you just call him handsome?
But of course he didn't have time! He was in the middle of a damn mission, for Christ sake!
“I- I have time”
Again, he mentally chastised himself but his body was not responding further than carrying all his blood to the wrong head so he decided it was all worth it the second you grinned at him and purred a sinful “Good” that made his knees buckle. Then you took him by his arm and led him towards a darker and quieter area of the deck and his heart was hammering against his chest so loud he was pretty sure you could hear it. He followed suit, keeping an eye on you the entire time, taking in how you moved, how your hand felt on his arm , warm and electric.
Once you found a good hiding spot covered by the shadows you gently pushed him against one of the walls —which earned you a groan from him— and looked around to check for any guards. He was too fixated on you to care about his surroundings at that point so all he did was lean the rifle he was holding against the wall to free his hands. For what? He wasn't sure yet because he didn't know if he was even allowed to touch you but his hands were itching to do so.
His doubts quickly faded when you seemed to be pleased with your hiding spot because you leaned against him, pressing your warm and soft body against his. He let out a soft hum, closing his eyes and basking in your warmth , letting the scent of you surround him, intoxicating. The sweetest thing he had enjoyed in a while.
—
All your attention was on Javier again. You couldn't lie, you found him incredibly attractive just from his looks alone but when you realized how awkward he was when you flirted with him or how he always needed a minute after you teased him even when he looked so rough and tough you were a goner. He ate up anything you offered, every bit of your attention like he was starved.
From teasing to playfully winking at him, every reaction you got from him had been feeding the hunger you felt for Javier too and being honest that uniform did things to you.
All night you'd been thirsting over him but you had to admit that when you saw him walking downstairs with the guard uniform you felt yourself gush and had to shift on your seat.
You finally leaned against him, pressing your soft palms over his firm chest to feel his body and when you got a pleased hum in return your eyes darkened. That sound was music to your ears, his voice was so soft, smooth, deep… and oh so beautiful. You were pretty sure he could sing if he wanted to.. or maybe he did? You could ask later, now you needed to hear him again.
With a sultry tone you got closer to his ear and murmured. “You can touch, you know..”
His eyes shot open as if he was unsure about what he just heard but then, when given another encouraging caress over his side his hands moved to your hips with a shaky grip, trying to keep himself in line.
You weren't sure if he was trying to hold back to be polite but something was sure, you didn't have much time here and it was a risky spot. As much as you wanted to savor this you two needed to hurry up so you took his rough hands on yours and guided them from your hips to the corset straps on your back slowly to let him enjoy the feeling of running his hands over you. He seemed to get the cue because he started to undo the corset immediately.
“There you go...” You purred and when you got a hoarse low growl in return you knew he was a sucker for some praise.
As he made himself busy with your corset you raked your hands over his chest and sides again, worshipping every inch you found. He seemed to be strong under that stolen uniform, not overly so but he was used to physical labor at least. You let your hands wander, which kept earning you choked gasps and appreciative hums from Javier and making the task of undoing your corset very challenging for him. He was putty in your hands and you were gladly going to give this to him and enjoy his reactions yourself.
Before he undid the last strap and your corset flew open you cupped his face with one gentle hand to make him look down at you and leaned in slowly, testing the waters. His breathing — which was starting to get laboured — stopped for a second. This made you fear he would decline your advance, maybe it was too much for a random hookup and he didn't want the intimacy of a kiss. Maybe you read him wrong, but you were dying to see if his lips were as soft as you hoped. Then he slowly started to lean in himself with a look in his dark eyes that told you he just wasn't expecting the tender gesture or he wasn't used to it.
You stopped an inch before your lips touched,still hesitant. The atmosphere around you was thick with unspoken desire and chemistry, crackling with electricity and his scent and warm breath caressing your skin was making you lose sanity.
“Is this ok..?” You whispered, making your lips brush against each other. The ghost of a kiss. That sent a shockwave through your spine all the way to your lower back and your core that made you shudder. He shuddered too. And if that wasn't enough to tell you he wanted this, he showed you.
He closed the gap, pulling you by your waist against his body and pressing his lips against yours into a searing kiss. You melted against him, groaning into the kiss and happily parting your lips for him to explore your mouth with his tongue when you felt it brush against your lower lip, asking for permission. He didn't kiss you roughly but with enough urgency to let you know he was starting to get desperate. And if you missed that, his groans and soft moans were there to make it clear as day.
As things were heating up his hands clumsily but determined resumed their work to undo your corset, he needed to feel your skin, to see the chest that had been teasing him the whole night and after some fumbling it fell open to the deck floor. You let out a sigh of relief now that you could properly breathe and your chest was now covered only by the sheer camisole of your dress.
His hands found their way to your breasts and after unbuttoning the camisole he cupped them with reverence, kneading and pinching them and making you moan. That made him stiffen and he had to break the kiss to lean his forehead against yours, eyes closed and panting softly, trying —and failing miserably— to keep any semblance of control.
“Dios mío, por favor, I need.. please.. anything-” He was whining and felt pathetic but the sound of it made you feel another wave of arousal that was sure to leave your bloomers wet and ruined if they weren't already.
Words were definitely failing him but to get his point across he started rocking his hips against yours, hissing when he finally felt friction. He was rock hard and his pants were doing a poor job at keeping it concealed. How could you find that hot? He was a whining mess, needy and desperate and basically dry humping you and yet it was the single most erotic thing you’d seen in your life.
“Christ.. of course.. let me take care of that.” You whispered and your hand made its way towards the belt of the uniform, undoing it with a soft click. Then you kept going down for the waistband of his pants, and once you undid them your hand snaked inside. Following the faint trail of hair you found there your fingers graced the outline of his throbbing cock and you softly took it in your hand.
He downright moaned and hid his face on the crook of your neck to muffle it, gripping your hips with bruising force and keeping you pressed against him.
The sound was enough to make you feel your knees weak but you pushed through and buried your free hand in his hair.
“God, that was hot- “ You whispered against his shoulder. That seemed to do wonders for his ego because he twitched in your hand and let out a needy whine, the praise was getting to him.
Caressing his scalp you started to gently move your hand, stroking him with small and slow pumps at first and making sure to coat your hand with the pre-cum he had already leaking from his tip, speeding up when you found the pace he enjoyed more. Hard and deep. You took note of that for later.
After a while and feeling him buck weakly against you, you decided this wasn't enough so you took out your hand, earning a confused whine from him that was silenced the second he saw you kneeling before him and his eyes flew wide open.
The sigh of him was heavenly. He was panting, blushing bright red and looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky.
Keeping your eyes on him you pulled down his pants and freed his aching cock. In the shadows where you were hiding you could barely see it but it was a nice size, thick and not too long, throbbing and with a glistening bead of precum gathering at the tip. You moistened your lips and without wasting more time licked a stripe from his base to his tip following a vein and taking with you the salty bead.
His knees buckled when you reached the tip and he had to lean his body against the wall behind him to stay on his feet, letting out a choked cry but you had no mercy and took him in without much warning.
The moan that followed startled you at first, it was loud and so heartfelt it was borderline sinful. You hoped no one noticed it because you were dying to hear that again so you took him in deeper, harder, adding pressure with your tongue and gliding it on the underside of his shaft following the vein you found earlier. You used his thighs as leverage to rest your hands and kept going, humming at the sight of him unraveling and soon enough he was a moaning mess.
You could not get enough of his sounds, the slight rocking of his hips and how he was trying to keep his hands to himself and not pull on your head to bury his cock to the hilt of your throat. Still, you knew he wanted it and you were eager to please so you did just that and drove him in as deep as you could take him until his head fell back against the wall and your throat hurt.
This proved to be too much for him because he gripped your hair to make you stop.
Taking him out of your mouth and wiping away some spit with the back of your hand you gave both of you a second. He was heaving and has a thin layer of sweat on his forehead. He looked disheveled, a stark contrast from when you saw him the first time looking all sharp and serious.
“I can't- Dios. Me va a matar. It’s too much, cariño, I’m gonna-” He panted.
“It’s okay, you can-” You insisted but he shook his head and held your wrists, pulling on you slightly.
“Get up, please” He begged, trying to keep his breathing under control.
You started to get up but Javier was already too desperate and pulled you up himself by your arms and gathering your skirts over your hips he yanked your soaking bloomers down. He definitely wasn't a dominant one but the absolute desperation was making him bold so you let him do as he pleased.
“Jesus Christ, mi vida-” He growled after pressing a finger over your pussy to check if you were ready. And ready you were, shamefully so. There was slick dripping down your thighs that reached past the garter belt you had. He needed to taste you, to know if you tasted as sweet as he imagined.. maybe another time, you both needed more than that. Then adding another finger he started to ease them inside of you with extreme gentleness and you moaned. You didn't need the stretch but were pleasantly surprised that he took his time to make sure you could take him.
As he worked you open —and gave himself a much needed break— he kept letting out little pleased sounds against your ear and his free hand kneaded at your breasts, feeling your skin, anything to give his throbbing cock a break or he was going to bust right then and there.
Now it was your turn to be a moaning mess under him, but the bags strapped to your thighs were starting to get in the way so you just unbuckled them and let them fall to the floor with a thud. Once free you parted your legs and hooked one of them over his hip, fueling his desperation because he withdrew his fingers, replacing them with the tip of his aching cock and started rolling his hips against you, coating himself with your slick.
He couldn't take his eyes from where your bodies met and every part of him felt on fire.Your combined slick made his the gliding much easier and each time he hit your clit you felt like you were about to collapse, gripping his shirt and muffling your cries by pressing your face against his chest.
He tried to do this right, to take his time and after some more rubbing he started to enter you inch by inch. But he body had other plans, the moment he felt your velvety walls fluttering around him midway he rammed forward until he was buried to the hilt with a snap of his hips. That made you both cry out.
“shhh…shhh..M sorry! M’sorry..Dios” he kept repeating that with a choked voice to soothe you while he remained fully sheathed inside of you, splitting you in half in the most delicious way and kissing your cervix with his tip.
Your vision was starting to blur at the edges when he bottomed out but the cherry on top was the sound of his moan right by your ear. He couldn't wait anymore, he had given you a few seconds but he needed to move so he set a hard and deep pace, he couldn't keep still even if he wanted to, driven only by pleasure and desperation for release after all your teasing and edging.
The sounds of slick skin against skin filled your little hiding spot followed by muffled moans and groans. You loved how vocal he was and hoped you could hear him and see him without clothes in the way or the fear of getting caught.
–
You were perfect. Too damn beautiful for his own sake. His brain was mush and he could only think about how good you felt around him, so warm, so tight, so welcoming for him.. so damn wet. He was losing it and he could feel the telltale signals from his body that he was about to cum. He was getting harder and twitching every few seconds. You felt better than he anticipated and it had been a while since he had any action so he knew there wasn't much hope.
Still, he tried everything to keep going a little more, thinking about anything that could delay his release but your sounds and the way you were clinging to him , heavy lidded and looking up at him with your beautiful mouth forming a perfect O.. no, that was too much. The tight coil inside of him was about to snap. His trusts were starting to get rougher and uncoordinated.
“Cariño- “ He started to warn you, fully intending to pull out, but a sudden jerk of his hips had you tightening around his cock like a vice, clamping down when he hit your G spot once, twice.. just right with those deep thrusts.
“Dont.. don't stop. I'm close.. please-” The way you clenched and the sound of your unholy moans did it and with a choked whine his orgasm hit him mid thrust like a freight train and he could only hold on and ride it.
-
You didn't expect what happened next, the moment you felt him come and fill you up with his warm release you thought that was it but then he gripped you tightly against his chest and held your leg over his hip and fucked his cum deep into you. He was not thinking at that point and it was already in there so why not? His feral side took over and his pride told him he needed to make you come too after what you've done for him so he pistoned in and out of you risking his own overstimulation with one goal, pleasure you. By the fifth rough thrust you couldn't take anymore of that pace and you came so hard your vision went white. Even your voice betrayed you, all you managed to let out was a muted whine as you clamped down on him so tight he had to stop to keep himself standing and buried to the hilt, still throbbing slightly and keeping his cum deep inside of you.
Finally, his knees gave up and using the wall behind him he slid down until he was seated on the floor and heaving with you straddling him. He didn't let go, keeping you tightly pressed against his chest and you made no move to get away from him either, still trying to get your body to respond and come down from your high. You felt his heart hammering against yours and it was almost soothing but not as much as his hand when he started caressing circles on your back .
If you didn't know better you’d say it was an affectionate gesture and it made you start to panic when the only thing in your mind at the thought of him being more than a random hookup was a deep yearning. You didn't even know his name for christ sake and it was not the moment to let your lack of affection and emotional and physical starvation get the better of you. You still had to go back to land.
Unaware of your inner turmoil Javier was on cloud nine. Sated, content and just enjoying the feeling of having you on top of him. His hand kept caressing your back and his chin was resting on your shoulder, looking out for any guards or something that told him they had been discovered and basking on the afterglow. Damn, he needed to see you again after this, not even for the sex —which had been incredible and he already craved more of you— but to know who the hell you were, you were fascinating to him. He shifted to make you sit more comfortably and checked if you were ok.
As you both got your breathing under control and he slipped out of you —already soft— followed by a gush of your mess combined he leaned back to look at you, taking your chin on his hand to get a better look and his heart stopped. There was something in your gaze that told him that something was definitely wrong and he started to panic too. Did he do something grong? Did she not like it? Maybe she was mad because he came inside? Shit, he was a damn fool, wasn't he?
“I- “ He started “M’so.. so sorry, I didn’t mean- I just couldn’t..I wanted to pull out but-”
At his panic, yours flared too.
“No! No, it’s not like that ! I'm just not used to this!”
There was a moment of silence.
“This? Sex, you mean..? Don’t tell me this was your first time and I fucked up..”
“What?! No.. no, I meant.. this” You placed your hand on top of his. No, you were not used to any aftercare, any affection really. You lived alone in a city where even the very air felt hostile. Any quick fuck you managed to get was always the same: fast, harsh and purely to scratch an itch. And after it was done you would never see the guy again probably. Except that time with the loud mouthed Irish man you met at a bar, another thief of sorts he said he was, it was nice until he disappeared a while ago. Sean was his name. You hoped he was ok. “feels strange, not bad..but foreign”
His gaze softened immediately. Just the thought that you didn't get any kind of affection tugged at his heartstrings. You were so beautiful, so sweet.. to him you deserved every bit of it and he’d be glad to be the one to give it to you. Any time you asked.
"What's your name?” He whispered. Hopeful.
You told him. Your real one.
“I’m Javier.” He replied with a smile. Genuine and warm.
This man truly was something else. From an intimidating stranger, to an awkward dork.. to a very needy and affectionate man. And now he was comforting you? You were hooked, you knew that much.
“A pleasure to meet you, Javier..” There was a small smile on your face, you felt shy, which was a shocker given that you just fucked this guy in a seni public place.
“Pleasure 's all mine, preciosa..” A beat “Would it be too crazy to ask you to meet me after all of this is over? Maybe in the city?”
Your heart was doing somersaults and you were pretty sure you were starting to hear someone getting closer to ruin the moment. Maybe a real guard. With a sly grin you nodded. You both needed to move.
Guess who came back from the dead☺️ it’s been a while, but I’m finally back. Yesterday I woke up suddenly and remembered I have a tumblr account. Sorry about that, but I am so ready to write more fixe! And I even got my first request by a lovely anon, though it was requested like 3 months ago. Again, I am sorry! I proofread but if there’s any mistakes let me know!
I don’t allow people copying my work btw, anything of the sort will get reported.
Tags/warnings: MDNI, heavy angst, dark romance, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, stalking elements, emotional manipulation, coercion, power imbalance, injury caused intentionally (he literally broke your leg), manipulation through caretaking, dependency, fear-based attachment, isolation, jealousy, toxic relationship dynamics, savior complex, “you’re safer with me” themes, loss of agency, psychological control, dubious consent themes, morally dark romance, psychological manipulation, injury recovery, broken leg, canon-era setting, slow-burn obsession, unhealthy devotion, protective behavior turned possessive, moral corruption, unreliable caretaker, twisted affection, hurt/comfort (heavy on hurt), dead dove: do NOT eat.
Javier Escuella had walked into plenty of saloons in his life. Most of them blurred together after a while—dim lantern light, the smell of whiskey soaked into the floorboards, card games stretching late into the night, men talking too loud about things that weren’t their business. That night should have been no different. He had come for some reason tied to the gang—maybe to listen for rumors, maybe to meet someone, maybe just to pass the time while Dutch handled something in town. Whatever the reason had been, it disappeared the moment the fiddle began to play and you stepped onto the small stage in the corner of the room.
You weren’t like the other women there, and Javier noticed that almost immediately. The working girls leaned over tables and laughed too loudly at men’s jokes, hands brushing shoulders while coins slipped from pockets into their palms. But you didn’t walk between tables, you never sat in their laps. Never whispered offers behind your fan. You simply danced.
And God, how you danced.
You stayed on the stage, under the lantern light, where everyone could see you but no one could touch. You were a dancer—nothing more, nothing less. And when the music started and your hips began to move with the slow rhythm of the fiddle, the entire room seemed to tilt toward you like a field of flowers turning toward the sun.
Javier sat down without even realizing he had done it. His drink sat untouched in front of him while he watched the way your skirt shifted with each step, the way your shoulders rolled with the beat of the music, the easy confidence in the way you moved. It wasn’t crude or desperate like some saloon shows he had seen before. There was something almost hypnotic about it, something that made the noise of the room fade away until all he could really hear was the music and the soft rhythm of your footsteps on the stage.
Men around him shouted things—some appreciative, some vulgar—but Javier didn’t join them. He never whistled, never called out. He just watched. His dark eyes followed every movement like he was trying to memorize the way you danced, the way your hair caught the light when you spun, the slight smile you wore like you knew exactly what the room thought of you and simply didn’t care.
When the song ended, you stepped down from the stage and disappeared behind a curtain. Javier realized then that nearly an hour had passed.
Men came and went, but Javier stayed, elbows on the table, dark eyes following every turn of your body like a man studying scripture. He started coming back every week after that… then every few days. Eventually the bartender didn’t even ask what he wanted. Javier would sit in the same chair, hat tipped low, watching you sway under the lanternlight like you belonged there. Like you belonged to him.
He stayed.
When the band started playing again and you returned to the stage, he felt something strange settle in his chest—a quiet, stubborn feeling that he didn’t quite know how to name. By the time the saloon began emptying later that night, Javier was still sitting in the same chair, his hat tipped low, watching you dance like he had nowhere else to be.
After that night, he kept coming back.
At first, it was easy to pretend it was coincidence. The gang traveled often enough, and towns passed beneath their horses like drifting dust. But whenever they were within riding distance, Javier found himself drifting toward that same saloon, pushing through the same swinging doors, taking the same seat with the same clear view of the stage.
He never caused trouble. Never drank too much. Never touched you. But he watched. Night after night.
Sometimes he paid the band to keep playing longer. Sometimes he slipped the owner a few extra dollars just to make sure you came back out for another set. He would sit there for hours, elbows resting on the table, eyes locked on you while the rest of the world faded into nothing but background noise. And slowly, without him even realizing when it started, something inside him began to change.
At first it felt like admiration. Maybe even affection.
But admiration didn’t make his jaw tighten when other men leaned forward in their chairs to watch you. Admiration didn’t make his hands curl into fists when someone shouted something crude toward the stage.
Those men didn’t deserve to watch you. The ones who thought they were seeing the same thing Javier saw. They weren’t. They didn’t deserve the way your body moved with the music, or the way the lantern light followed the curve of your waist when you turned.
Some nights Javier forgot entirely why he had come into town. The gang would ask later if he’d heard any rumors or found anything useful, and he would realize he had spent the entire evening watching you dance instead of doing whatever Dutch had sent him to do.
Weeks passed like that.
You probably didn’t even notice him the first few times. Just another man with a hat tipped low, watching the stage.
But Javier noticed you noticing him eventually. He was hard to miss once you knew to look—always in the same place, quiet, still, his dark gaze following every step you took on the stage. His hat tipped low.
He just watched. He never shouted. Never grabbed. Never tried to drag you away like the others sometimes tried before the bouncers stepped in. He just watched.
And the strange thing was, he looked almost… reverent.
It took Javier a long time to gather the courage to speak to you. The idea itself made him uneasy, which was ridiculous considering the things he had done in his life. He had faced down guns, outrun lawmen, fought in battles he barely understood. Yet the thought of hearing you say no made his stomach twist in a way he couldn’t explain. But eventually, he tried anyway.
One evening after your last dance, he found you behind the saloon where the night air was cooler and the noise of the bar was muffled by the walls. Breathless from the dance, cheeks warm from the lamps. You were leaning against a wooden post, catching your breath after the last set, a damp cloth pressed against your neck. When you noticed him approaching, your expression shifted slightly—curious, cautious.
“Señorita,” Javier said softly, tipping his hat. You raised an eyebrow. He hesitated, the words feeling awkward on his tongue. “Perhaps… you would join me for dinner tomorrow.” You studied him for a moment. Not unkindly. Just thoughtfully.
Then you smiled, small and polite. “No.” Just like that. One simple word. You weren’t cruel about it. You didn’t laugh or mock him. You simply shook your head once, gently, like you were turning down an offer that had never really interested you to begin with. And then you walked back inside the saloon. A dancer protecting the thin boundary between stage and life.
Javier stood there for a long moment after you disappeared, staring at the door like he had been struck. The next night he came back anyway. And the night after that.
But now when you danced, something inside him had shifted. Before, he had watched you. Now he noticed everyone else watching you too—the greedy stares, the tossed coins, the drunken applause.
It made something dark coil in his chest.
Coins kept sliding across the counter. Eyes kept lingering where they shouldn’t. Something bitter and possessive took root inside him. If you wouldn’t dance for him… then you wouldn’t dance for anyone. You weren’t supposed to dance for them. You were supposed to dance for him. The thought grew stronger every time he came back. The green monster reared his ugly head at the thought of those men watching you dance.
Until eventually, he couldn’t stand it anymore.
The accident happened on a rainy night.
The street outside the saloon had turned to slick mud, lantern light reflecting off the wet ground. You were heading home after closing, your shawl pulled tight around your shoulders against the cold. Someone bumped into you from behind. Hard.
Your foot slipped on the mud before you could catch yourself. The fall was sudden and violent, pain shooting through your leg the moment you hit the ground. It was so sharp it stole the breath from your lungs before you could even cry out.
The man who had collided with you muttered a quick apology, barely stopping before disappearing into the darkness. You never saw his face. But whoever he was, he left you on the ground with a broken leg and no way to climb onto that stage again.
And you never once suspected the man standing across the street in the shadows. Time passed. Money dried up. Dancing wasn’t possible anymore, the doctor had said. The saloon hired another girl within a couple days.
A week later, there was a knock at your door.
When you opened it, Javier Escuella stood there with a concerned look on his face, hat in his hands. “I heard what happened,” he said quietly. Your small rented room felt colder than usual with your injured leg stretched awkwardly across a chair. The doctor had wrapped it tight, but the dull ache still pulsed constantly through the bone.
“Yeah, news travel fast.” you said tiredly. “Bad luck, I guess.”
Javier stepped inside slowly, his eyes drifting across the cramped little room—the thin mattress, the peeling wallpaper, the small table with barely enough food for a day. “You cannot work like this,” he said gently. You let out a humorless laugh. “No. I cannot.”
For a moment neither of you spoke.
Then Javier pulled a chair closer and sat down in front of you, leaning forward slightly like he was sharing a quiet secret. “You should not worry about money anymore,” he said. You frowned. “What?”
“I can provide for you,” he continued, his voice calm and steady. “A proper home. Food. Comfort. You would not need that stage again.”
You stared at him, confused.
“Why would you do that?”
The question hung between you. Javier considered the truth.
Because I have watched you for months. Because the sound of your bracelets keeps me awake at night. Because every man who ever looked at you filled me with something ugly and burning. Because your now uneven gait has me on the floor and I don’t want to get up.
But he didn’t say any of that.
Instead he said, “Because I care for you.” You hesitated. A dancer with a broken leg didn’t have many options in the world. Javier watched the thoughts move slowly across your face—the uncertainty, the exhaustion, the quiet fear of what came next. He already knew how this would end.
“Thanks, but I’ll manage.”
_________
You lasted three weeks. Three weeks of trying to walk without leaning on the walls. Three weeks of selling small pieces of jewelry to keep paying rent. Three weeks of listening to the music drifting from the saloon down the street while you sat by the window with your leg propped up.
On the twenty-third day, Javier knocked again. Three times, just to be safe.You opened the door slower this time.
And this time, when you looked at him, the pride in your eyes had cracks in it. You came back.” You stepped aside so he could enter.
Your room was smaller than he expected. A narrow bed, a chair, a cracked mirror on the wall. The air smelled faintly of liniment and cheap soap. Your leg was worse today. You were leaning heavily on a cane. Javier’s jaw tightened slightly when he saw it. He watched you lower yourself carefully into the chair. Rent collectors don’t care about doctors orders, you had said. It took convincing, he rehearsed excuses on why you should live with him. Why he should care for you.
When you finally nodded, slow and unsure, relief flickered through his expression. A quiet life. Someone to take care of you now that the world had been so cruel. You were grateful. You called him your savior. Javier only smiled when you said that. Because in his mind, he had simply fixed a terrible problem. Now you didn’t dance for strangers. Now you belonged somewhere safe. With him.
From that day forward, he took care of everything. Food appeared regularly. Rent was paid before you even had to ask. He spent hours sitting beside you while your leg healed, sometimes humming old Mexican songs while he cooked small meals in the cramped kitchen. And sometimes, late at night, when your injured leg ached and you leaned against him for support, Javier would press a kiss to your hair and murmur something soft in Spanish. And whenever anyone asked about you, he always introduced you the same way:
Summary: Your ex invites you to his wedding and you don't have anyone for a plus one, that is until Javi volunteers just to make your ex jealous.
Content Warning: Discussions of a break up, drowning out pain with work, hung up on your ex who's an asshole!, fake dating, mentions of alcohol, reader and Javi go to a bar, shitty cop terminology but idc sorryyyy, other tags are not listed to keep the surprise! reader has NO physical descriptions. no use of y/n
Author's Note: IM BAAAACK (keep your pants on!) this is for The Magic Number writing challenge hosted by the lovely @schnarfer , @mothandpidgeon & @whocaresstillthelouvre ! Thank you for creating this challenge for us and I hope you like it mwah mwah <3 divider by @/saradika-graphics <3 also nawt beta'd. fuck it we ball.
word count: 4.5k | main masterlist | ao3 |
“What do you mean he sent you an invitation? Tell me more, damnit!” your friend gushes over the cubicle wall you shared, his cup of coffee in his hand, practically spilling over into your area.
“Okay okay, just a peak before we get yelled at again and they make me do patrol work with Peña” you joke as you lean down into your purse and pull out the small pale yellow envelope, the wedding invitation sticking out from when you read it last night.
You brought it with you to show Marco, knowing he’d get a kick out of it. Marco knew all about your ex and how badly he treated you, even worse when you broke up and he stole your dog. You only got her back because Javi pulled some strings and threatened him, the one and only time Javi did you a good favor.
Marco observes the glued lace border on the cream colored cardstock, the photo of the two of them in the center of an oval printed frame on top, the gold clashing with everything to do with this nightmare of an invite.
“This is god awful, who the hell made these?” he asks, reading over the details at the bottom, smirking at the boxes unchecked where it asks if you were bringing a plus one or not for the headcount.
“So are you bringing anyone to make him jealous?”
You roll your eyes and log into your computer, “I don’t know about jealous, but yes, you’re coming with me” you retort as you open your emails to get caught up already this morning.
“No, I can’t. This is when I’m going on vacation with Randy's family, remember?”
Your stomach drops as you look at the corner of the screen, pulling up the calendar for next month, July.
Fuck.
You completely forgot Marco telling you about this, the first vacation he was taking with Randy's family since they got married three years ago. Thomas went with you to their wedding and complained the entire time about being tired and how he was ready to go. Your head dips back and rests between your shoulder blades in defeat, stumped with what to do now. There was no way you could go to Thomas’ wedding without a plus one, it was all out of spite. The invitation, the need to see if you’d show up, especially with someone else. He wanted to toy with you.
“Marco, who the hell am I going to bring now? You’re going on vacation, Cami's going to the Bahamas to see her sister. I am so screwed.” Shaking your head trying to rack your brain about who to take, no one was coming to mind. Work took up so much of your time, you hardly spent time with anyone other than Cami and Marco. When Thomas and you split, you dived headfirst into a new position to keep yourself busy and out of the house until you could feel somewhat normal being there alone.
He comes around the corner of your cubicle and leans over your chair, right next to your head as he wraps an arm around you, his purple tie falling on your shoulder, “You could always ask Peña, you know?” he teases, knowing you’d rather choke than do that.
“I’m not asking him a damn thing, Marco. He’s-”
“I’m what? What were you going to ask me?” the voice erupts as he comes into your area, Marco standing straight up as you turn your chair around to look at him.
His navy blue suit and tie fit his body so well, the maroon tie under his palm as it rests against his stomach, his brows knitted together as he repeats himself once more. Marco looks at you and walks back to his desk, waving at Javi politely in passing. Standing up and smoothing your blouse, you smile and shake your head, not wanting to repeat anything you just said.
“Nothing, Javi. It’s nothing, Marco’s just being silly today, that’s all” you try to worm your way out of the conversation, walking to the break room to get a drink.
Javi’s hot on your heels as he follows, continuing to press the question. He stops in the doorway and leans against the wooden frame as you get a mug from the cupboard, setting it down on the counter to pour steaming hot coffee inside.
“What did you need to ask me, rookie?” he urges, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches you closely.
You bite the inside of your lip as you look out the small window to the left of you, the dozens of people standing outside, like tiny specks from how far up you were.
“Thomas, my ex, do you remember him?”
Javi nods, hanging on your every word to see what’s wrong.
Swallowing a sip of coffee and meeting his eyes, you let out a breath and sit at the small round table in the middle of the room.
“He’s getting married, and he invited me to the wedding. It’s in a month and I was going to take Marco but he has plans and I don’t want to go alone. I wanted to go and im disappointed I’m not, in a slightly fucked up way.”
He sits down across from you, taking in your body language and noticing how it still affects you talking about Thomas. He found someone new and married her after being with her for less than a year. Meanwhile, you were together for almost seven years and shot down the thought of marriage every time it was thrown at him at a family gathering. The night usually ended with him accusing you of telling them to bring it up because he could never give you a straightforward answer.
Javi folds his fingers together after running his palm over his stache and down the sides of his mouth, a look of confusion on his face.
“I don’t think it’s fucked up to want to go just so he can see how better you are without him. He clearly hasn’t learned from the last time though, I see. When is it again?”
“July twenty-sixth. I think if I just toss it in the garbage I’ll feel better, ya know?” You take another sip of coffee and Javi nods before knocking once on the table, something clearly brewing in his mind.
Getting up and heading for the door when he stops and turns back around, Javi plants his hands on his hips, a smirk growing on his lips, “Okay, I’ll be your fake boyfriend for the night”
You nearly spit out the hot liquid and hastily set the mug down, brows furrowed with so much confusion. Nowhere did you ask him to come with you and put on a show and yet here he was, throwing himself in the position.
“W-what? Javi, no. I didn’t ask you to d-”
“Yeah, well look at it this way. You don’t have time to find half a decent person, plan some random date and meet up with them, get to know them, think they’re well enough to bring to this wedding without embarrassing you, you know, all that fun stuff. I’m the only other option you have and let’s face it, I’m not terrible to look at” he shrugs and looks down the hallway, giving you a minute to think about your response.
“What do you get out of this, Peña?” you stand up and walk slowly over to him and stop in front of him, your arm barely touching his.
He wasn’t ugly, not in the slightest. You’d heard about the stuff he did back in Colombia and to most it would make them run for the hills but it didn’t bother you in the slightest. You just didn’t want to go near anyone until you worked through the shit Thomas did to you. It was no one's responsibility to fix you when they didn’t break you. Or at least that’s what you told yourself to feel a little less alone at night.
Javi takes note of how close you’ve gotten to him, causing him to smirk and push it a little further, “What can I say? I like helping women and I love humbling assholes.”
-
Fast forward a few weeks that were full of you and Javi hanging out in his apartment, learning more about each other so you sounded like a real couple and undetectable it was all a sham. Needless to say, you were learning more about him than you ever thought you would. Marco helped you shop for a dress and insisted you go with the strapless maxi one, knowing the cowl neck on it gave you just what you were wanting and the emerald color complimenting your skin tone perfectly.
Javi already declared he was strictly wearing black and white to match whatever you chose, knowing it was the easiest thing he could do for you, given the fact you went to several dress shops and left empty handed and sad.
The doorbell dings and you look at the clock on your microwave, small green numbers showing you had less than an hour before you needed to put on a brave face and pretend you were okay, perfect, actually. You swing the front door open to face Javi’s back before he turns on his heel, giving himself a little surprise to your outfit. His eyes widened as he took in every inch of you, down to the one shoe you were in the middle of fastening before he rang the doorbell.
“C-can you say something, Peña? You’re freaking me o-”
“I don’t have any words. You look so…beautiful” Javi admits, his eyes meeting yours as he finishes his sentence, to make sure you’re listening to every word he’s saying.
“Oh, cmon, very funny” your hand drops from the door handle as you walk away to the living room to retrieve your other shoe.
He steps inside and looks around at what little he can take in quickly as he follows you, his hand tucking in his pocket to grab a cigarette. You hear the flick of the lighter and stand straight quickly, grabbing the cigarette from between his lips.
“Hey, come here,” he whispers, keeping you still for one second, long enough to grab your chin delicately to look at him fully.
Your breath catches in your throat at the sudden contact of his fingers on your skin, a comfortable silence falling between you two before he licks his lips quickly to speak once more.
“When have I ever lied to you, hm? I mean it, you’re breathtaking.”
“You lied to me on my first day and said the copier was voice activated and laughed your ass off hearing me down the hallway screaming at it” you chuckle remembering how embarrassed you were at the time, meanwhile Javi was basking in it.
He looks away trying to stifle his laugh given the serious moment but breaks as soon as he hears yours and glances at your smile quickly.
“Okay, okay, yes I did lie about that. But this, I’m not lying.”
Javi’s thumb grazes your cheek softly to reassure you he was true to his word, for once you have nothing to counter with to make it less awkward for you.
Compliments were not really your strong suit, much less from Javi.
The grandfather clock tucked away in the corner chimes, yanking you back down from the clouds to the moment at hand, causing you to lean out of his grasp before bending down to the floor, finishing putting your other heel on.
“We’re gonna be late if we don’t leave now, c’mon, Peña” you urge and grab the tiny gold beaded clutch off the table by the front door coat rack, tucking it tightly under your arm as you walk to his car. The red paint sparkles under the sunlight like it was coated with rubies, making you wonder if he washed it before coming to pick you up. He took pride in his car, the way he presented himself to others, he wanted to be the best version he could be, at least, to pretend for you.
He makes sure to blow the cigarette smoke out his window and not into the car, careful to keep you from smelling anything other than your sweet perfume you made sure to put on extra of. The drive to the church was everything but quiet, going over your answers to make sure you were correct, down to the date you allegedly started dating, everything.
At some point during the drive, probably when he was turning at a corner or something, Javi’s hand ended up on your knee, slow circles drawn into your soft skin from the pad of his thumb. It felt innocent, like he wanted to make you as comfortable as possible before seeing Thomas, take as much pressure off you as he possibly could.
Javi parks the car and gets out adjusting his suit as he walks over to your side of the car, opening the door with a hand out to help you. His gold watch glistens in the afternoon sunlight and catches your eye while you smooth down your dress to make sure everything is in place. There were more cars there than you expected, maybe it was her friends and family?
“Now, if at any point you want to leave, just squeeze my hand and I’ll take you home, okay?” Javi reminds you as he fishes out a small silver flask from his inner jacket pocket, unscrewing the cap and tilting his head back as the liquid burns down his throat.
A shaky breath enters your lungs and with no hesitation you take the flask from him to get a drink yourself, already wanting this to be over. When you finish swallowing and return the container to him, a smirk lingers on his face, more so surprised at your sudden behavior but he didn’t say a word, he just left it alone and walked you across the street to the big wooden doors that were still open for guests.
A small red carpet runner shows you to the steps and there was white lace wrapped everywhere, trying to cover the stair railings as best as they could, the brown wood not going with their theme. Everything was maroon and gold with white accents, feeling like you jumped into a time capsule to someone's school dance being this color scheme. The organ music fills your ears as you step inside the church, small tables in the foyer littered with wedding gifts and only then did it dawn on you that you didn’t get them anything.
“Javi, we didn’t get them a gift” you whisper, freaking out a little.
Of course you forgot a gift. It wasn’t helping your case of not looking like the bitter ex and there was no way you could leave to get something now.
He takes off his yellow sunglasses and tucks them away before grabbing a gift bag with a tag hanging on it, a family last name scribbled into the white paper. Javi looks around before ripping the tag off and writing your name first followed by his with a pen left sitting out as a wedding favor.
“Problem solved, sweetheart”
He takes your hand and walks you inside to find some room in a pew, one bench almost entirely empty towards the front half of the left side. Javi lets you in first and follows closely to sit on the outside, his right arm resting on the back of the bench for you to rest against. You scan the room to get a feel of the crowd and notice his family over on the other side of the room, fanning themselves with what looks like extra wedding invites they didn’t use.
The energy seemed to be upbeat for the most part, except from the dirty looks from your old shared friends that you no longer speak to. Thomas’s mother waves at you and smiles from ear to ear, excited that you even showed up. You elbow Javi to wave back and he does, getting a thumbs up and a wink from her.
“She thinks you’re cute. You wanna save her from that marriage next?” you mutter through your fake smile, Javi chuckling in your ear as he looks away.
“No, no. She’s not my type,” he starts and squeezes your shoulder, “I’ve got my eye on someone else right now.”
Just as you’re about to ask who he was talking about, the music starts up and suddenly Javi’s so interested in the wedding party slowly making their way down the aisle. You hear the beginning notes and your hand covers your mouth in shock, realizing they chose the same song Thomas jokingly said he’d make you walk in to and got upset when you said no.
Javi leans in your ear and whispers, “Is this from Lord of The Rings?”
You snap your head in his direction, completely surprised he even knew that. You nod and look back towards the center of the room, trying to keep your composure at this entire thing. Thomas stands at the altar with his hands folded in front of him as his wife-to-be makes her way down with her pudgy father in arm, her ginger hair tucked under the veil in what seems to be a braided bun, traditional. She was beautiful in her gown. Maroon flowers with beaded centers cover the bottom of her dress, getting smaller as they go up to her waist, the rest being bright white and her gloved white hands holding her bouquet in front of her abdomen.
Everyone takes their seats and once it's quiet, the officiant starts to talk and make his speech about love and why everyone is here today. Javi wraps his arm around you once more, making sure you remember he was there for you, whatever you needed. You didn’t really know what you needed at that moment.
On one hand, that was supposed to be you. It was supposed to be you up there with Thomas, listening to the ordain talk about marriage and the trials and tribulations it has, but how you stick together because that’s what love is. You stay for the hard times and work it out, because you don’t walk away from someone you care about.
You didn’t realize you zoned out and were staring at the bibles tucked away in the pocket on the back of the pew in front of you until you heard Thomas’s voice giving a welcome and thank you for attending, to which you tried not to roll your eyes at. Javi whispers something you can’t make out and you listen closely to the vows Thomas was reading off the piece of paper in his hand, everything sounding familiar.
Javi was the one who noticed your leg bouncing restlessly and once more leaned his head on yours to quietly ask if you were okay. The truth was you were far from it. When you let Thomas come by the house to get the rest of his things, there was one thing you couldn’t find and chalked it up to being lost forever.
That was until now.
The tears stung your eyes and threatened to spill out and you refused to let anyone here see you cry, none of them deserving that. You shake your head and don’t answer Javi at the moment as Junie begins to say her vows. Her tears were running down her face from behind her glasses but she didn’t care, not even a little. She managed to get through them and Thomas impatiently asked if he could kiss his wife, the room erupting in laughter.
It was as if something inside you clicked finally. Being here today and seeing who Thomas turned into was the harsh reality that he wasn’t the person you fell in love with in high school. He was older than you and you thought you were so smart that a senior wanted to date you, a freshman, but before you knew it, he trapped you in an endless cycle of “of course I love you, I just can’t get married yet because…”.
The overhead speakers crackle as their outro music plays, the intro to Pirates of the Caribbean. Classy, Thomas.
Javi manages to light a cigarette as soon as his dress shoes hit the concrete steps off to the side of the door, trying to keep the smoke away from everyone.
“Why were you crying?” he asks, inhaling deeply and letting the smoke roll from his lips.
Your hand rests against your hip as you squint at him taking another drag, his back against the stonewall of the church, waiting for you to respond.
“He stole my journal and took the vows I wrote and read them just now, to Junie. Ya know, just when I think he can’t do anything else to hurt me, he finds a way to top it. The vows didn’t even make sense considering it was from my point of view and we were high school sweethearts. I mean of course he changed some of it to fit, but wow.”
He grins and holds the cigarette but down by his leg and stands up straight to step closer to you.
“Aren’t you glad you didn’t marry him? Couldn’t be bothered to write his own vows? Are...are you okay though?” Javi’s brown eyes find yours as flower pedals blow by behind you in the wind, the wedding crowd tossing them as the couple walks down the stairs to their car waiting for them.
Sighing calmly like you can breathe for the first time in a long time, you nod and Javi smiles. You hear heavy footsteps behind you and when you turn, Thomas was dropping Junie’s hand to come closer where you and Javi stood.
“Hey, thanks for coming, I uh…I didn’t think you’d show. I see you brought a plus one” it sounded bitter the moment it left his lips, still insecure when Javi was present.
“Congrats, man. I’m happy for you, I am. Tell me, what was the hardest part about today; reading stolen vows from your ex that you strung along for years or finding out she’s with me now?” Javi asks condescendingly, a slight gasp coming from your mouth. He may have been talking shit and lying, but something felt different this time hearing him call you his.
“Javi come on, let’s go” you insist, not wanting anyone to get punched in the face in front of so many potential witnesses.
Junie stands there unknowing to all of what was just said, her face painted with so much happiness to be married. Your heels click as you walk towards her, smiling sincerely at her.
“Congratulations, you look amazing. I hope you have a happy marriage, Junie” and you meant it. Every word you said to her. Maybe he was a different Thomas with her than he was when he was with you. All you could hope for was for her to be happy.
You couldn’t say the same for him.
As you and Javi make it back to his car, he gets in and turns to you, “So you don’t wanna go to the reception? All that hard work of getting to know you was for nothing?”
You gasp and smack his chest playfully, “You think it was for nothing?” you giggle and toss your clutch on the open space between you two.
“No, I don’t think it was for nothing. I actually wanna take you out for drinks right now, you look too good to drop off at your house quite yet.”
Nodding in agreement, you click on your seatbelt and take one last glance at the shit show in front of you that you were finally writing off and closing the book on. There was no way you could’ve ever been what Thomas wanted to marry and you understand that now. He didn’t want to get rid of you because he was afraid to be alone, he just decided to break you down so you didn’t want to leave. He wanted someone who was obedient and never questioned him, who takes the likes of his interests over your own, someone who was willing to look beyond the treatment he gave because he will always be insecure.
-
“What was with the music choices for that anyway?” Javi laughs as he takes another shot, biting into the lime to cut the taste.
Your head tosses back in laughter as you clap your hands, hoping he would bring it up first so you could joke about it together.
“I have no clue. I know he is really into Lord of The Rings, but don’t ask me about the second one. I’m wondering if that was her choice” you answer and toss another shot back, following it with a beer.
Javi rests his arms on the bartop in front of his chest, nestling his head right on top with his gaze falling on you.
There he goes again, making you nervous and forgetting how to speak.
“Don’t look at me like that” you murmur, covering his eyes with the palm of your hand.
Javi doesn’t move away until you do, letting him see you once more. His pink lips part slightly, “Why can’t I look at you like that? You look pretty, I wanna look at my date” he states, turning his stool to look at your face straight on.
“We’re not on a date, Javi. Monday will be here before we know it and this will all go away, we’ll be coworkers again and it’ll be like this never happened.”
His face changes with seriousness and he pauses for a second before scratching his forehead and clearing his throat.
“Yeah, you’re right. This is all pretend.”
He stands up and puts his jacket back on that had been sitting on the back of the stool for the last couple hours, the moment feeling stale and heavy now for some reason.
“I’m gonna go get the car, close the tab out for me?” he tosses his credit card on the napkin that once held your drink, not giving you a chance to answer before he walks away.
Even if you wanted to date him, there’s no way it could ever work. You two were too opposite and in different places in your life. Not to mention work, that would be a mess of paperwork to do.
You hand the bartender his card and give a soft smile when they tell you to have a good night, your clutch in hand as you step outside to see Javi leaning on the side of his car, the glowing orange light dangling between his fingers as the smoke rolls upwards.
“For the record,” he starts, stepping between you and the car with his hand on your chin so you can’t look away, “I don’t want this to just be like nothing happened.”
Your face softens as you look into his eyes before his lips meet yours softly, both of his hands cupping your face as you squeeze his jacket, not wanting him to pull away quite yet.
