lamentationsofalonelypotato

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Why Did You Lie?

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader, Reader POV, Din POV

Summary: All you want is for Din to tell you what you mean to him, but your brother and his best friend have other plans. Takes place after Season 3 when Din and Grogu have been living in their cabin on Nevarro. This is the eighth fic in my Sugar, Spice, and Starlight Series!

Tropes: Bakery AU, Grumpy vs. Sunshine, Mutual Pining, Fluff, SLOW BURN (NOT ANYMORE BABY!), Miscommunication (just gonna keep it going), Stubborn!Din, Anxious!Reader, Forced Proximity, Idiots in Love.

Word Count: 10K (I'm not apologizing for this I love it too much)

Warnings: Unwanted Kiss (Not From Din), Sibling Antics, Anxiety, Lil bit of cursing (3ish words?) Fluff, Angst, FLUFF, ANGST, Miscommunication (It's a Given At This Point), Idiots in Love, implied sex, references to sex, making out, the reader is really soft, likes to bake, and take care of Din and Grogu? Reader being a little bit self-deprecating? Reader might be a little anxious. Din might also be anxious. Din being a little bit self-deprecating to himself? Din might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is no use of y/n! I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite! I'm just starting to write for Din, so please be gentle.

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

A/N: Well, here we go...

Guide:

Cyare: Beloved

Cyar'ika: Sweetheart

Burc’ya: Friend

Riduur: Spouse/Partner

Light moves in a fluid wave up your body from beneath the sheer white curtains that softly ripple in the air conditioning. The early morning sun rising sleepily from the horizon and causing you to stir from a fitful sleep, the best you’d had in… you couldn't remember how long.

You blink bleary eyed, sheets crinkling with the soft movement of your body as you sit up.

Confusion fizzles at the back of your mind.

You didn't remember falling asleep in your bedroom. The last thing you remembered was having dinner with Grogu, putting together a plate on the stove for Din, and then going to sit on the couch with a book to wait for him to come home. Grogu had curled up in your lap, his warm little body resting on top of you while you read quietly from another book that Din had brought you back from one of his trips.

All the while practically made of anxiety and frustration.

You had no idea how to start the conversation about what the two of you were, with Din without blurting at the top of your lungs "I love you" and then waiting for him to awkwardly tell you to move out when he said he didn't.

Because how else would he react?

You believed that he'd put you in the friendzone and there wasn't any way out.

At least…

Your mind wanders to the "kiss" the two of you shared yesterday. How the smooth metal of his helmet fogged with the warmth from your forehead where they were pressed together, how Din sighed- not the harsh way he usually did, but a softer sound that made your heart flutter, how his gloves fit over your cheeks with a gentleness that Din didn't have for anyone else when he held your face to his, and how looking up into the t-shaped visor made your cheeks heat as you felt his gaze on you.

It felt like more then. The few precious seconds that you spent locked in his embrace living in that moment, seemed special, as if it was just the two of you. And then Karga had ruined it, as always.

But that doesn't answer how I got here.

You think, stretching your arms over your head, the quilt and sheets falling to your waist. You were still wearing the soft oversized t-shirt and pair of plain sweatpants you'd put on last night.

Maybe I was sleepwalking and-

The thought stutters to a halt as you turn to look at your bedside table and notice a bouquet of brightly colored flowers wrapped in brown paper. They're beautiful, blooms of dark red, purple, with hints of blue all woven together seamlessly, the delicate smell tickling the tip of your nose.

Din got me flowers?

He'd never brought you flowers before. Colorful stones rubbed smooth from oceans on another planet, shells of varying sizes, books, carved figures made from strong mahogany colored wood, an embroidered apron, but never flowers. No gift that seemed romantic or-

Your hand goes to the pendant around your neck, the metal warming where it rests against your skin.

The pendant was just as shocking as the multicolored bouquet sitting on your bedside table. Both of which seemed to scream that there was something else at work here, that Din maybe, possibly, wanted to be more than friends, that maybe he felt the same way about you.

But then why does he keep calling me his friend in Mando'a?!

It was so frustrating that it made you want to scream, but you just let out a huffy sigh. The frustration only grew more when you remembered how Ez had acted when you told him what Din was calling you and your brother explained absolutely nothing about it, only said that he was coming today and bringing Max.

Max, who was his best friend and didn't take things seriously. Max, who'd come over to your grandmother's home when she was alive more times than you could count and sat at the table with you, trying his upmost to make you laugh. Max, who you had come to think of as another brother you could count on.

It wasn't odd that he was coming with Ez. The only odd thing was how your brother had laughed in your face when you told him all the things that Din was calling you and doing for you.

Wait… did Din carry me to bed?

Your cheeks warm with a blush. It didn’t seem too far fetched, given that Din was getting more comfortable hugging you and holding your hand, but the thought still warmed your heart. That Din had cared enough to make sure you were safe in your bed and tucked you in.

Isn't that what he wanted though? For me to live here so he wouldn’t have to worry about me being safe in the city?

It was the kind of man you knew him to be. Din was kind, caring, thoughtful- he wasn't the beast or the monster that the people of Nevarro thought, especially not around you. Sure, he was rough around the edges, shy, quiet, but you loved him. You loved the man he was when he was with you. You could see past the wrought metal and leather and see his heart, and to you that was the most important thing.

Other people might have focused on the fact that you'd never seen his face, didn't know what he looked like- but you didn't care about that. You fell in love with the man he is, the way he takes care of Grogu and you, the way he always listens to you, and the way he protects you.

But the hard part was finding the courage to tell him.

You get out of bed and grab the flowers before creeping out into the hallway. The rest of the house is silent. The sunlight weaving through the windows in the living room and kitchen to bring a warmth and comfort to the space that you haven't felt since you left your grandmother's home.

It felt like home here. Being with Din and Grogu was home. And it scared you to think that Din didn’t want the same thing, because you knew that you'd be able to stay here if he didn't. It would be too awkward, especially in such a small space.

The thought of having the conversation with him and Din rejecting your love plagued you. You didn't know what to do if he said no. Din and Grogu were the only two people on Nevarro that you cared about. And the thought that it would be so awkward whenever he came by to the shop made anxiety twist your stomach into knots.

You cast a look down the dark hallway towards Din's closed door, biting the inside of your cheek.

We can talk after he wakes up.

Jax was opening this morning because you wanted to try and unpack more of the boxes in your room, so you didn't need to go in early, and you were sure that Din would want to walk you there when he got up.

And before your mind begins to wander, you decide to busy yourself with making breakfast.

Din and you had bought groceries and a few more odds and ends that you needed for the kitchen yesterday morning. Din had paid for everything, despite your numerous attempts to swat away his hand full of credits. The people in town were too afraid to refuse him, but you had no qualms about trying to muscle his body out of the way so you could pay. It had made Din laugh at you each time you tried to beat him to the punch, the sound of his chuckle through his helmet making your body feel like it was slowly being swallowed by a volcano.

Stars, you wanted more. You wanted to hear the real cadance of his laugh, hear the rough rumble of his voice unhindered by the helmet. The same sound you'd heard sporadically this week when you ate together a few times in his home, with a blindfold over your eyes.

That was going to take a little getting used to. Eating together, but not really being able to see your plate or your fork. It only made you think about what Din told you about what being his wife would look like, to see all of him, to have all of him the way you'd wanted for so long.

It's not going to happen. You're so far in the friendzone you might as well be hugging Nevarro's molten core.

The methodical measuring of the coffee grounds, the sharp crack of eggs against the side of a bowl, the sizzle of bacon in  the pan all distract you from the spiral that your mind has begun to travel down thinking about what Din and you would talk about when he woke up.

But not much.

Just be normal, n-o-r-m-a-l.

You chide yourself.

I can do that. I can tell him that I love him and that nothing is the same without him and that it hurts to be away from him and I want to be more to him than just friends and I want to take care of him for the rest of his life and ruin our friendship and leave his home in shame when he laughs in my face.

You didn't really think that he'd laugh in your face per se. More that he'd phase you out, even longer pauses, turning away from you whenever he spoke, making you move out-

The lump in your throat reforms with the thought.

Don't think about it right now

You sigh out a breath and shuffle the bacon in the skillet, flipping over the thick slices that crisp before your very eyes. And just as you begin to transfer them to a plate, you hear a ship outside landing.

Guess Ez and Max are here.

A part of you is upset that they're here. You knew that all it would do is push back the conversation that you wanted to have with Din, because like hell Din was going to have a conversation about what you meant to him or what was going on between the two of you in front of other people.

It had taken him forever to actually talk to you! Not to mention you weren't sure why Ez had really come or how he would treat Din. The last time certainly wasn't anything to write home about, and Ez obviously still thought that Din was a total jerk, given what he'd said about him when you called him yesterday. Then again you weren't really sure that Din thought the world of your brother given the odd way he'd reacted two weeks ago when Ez visited.

Maybe this time it'll be better.

But somewhere deep down doubt begin to stir.

The reason why Ez was here, his reactions to finding out what Din was calling you, the gifts, you moving into Din's home, was weird to say the least. You don't know why any of that would be funny.

You make your way to the front of the cabin, adjust the soft cardigan around your shoulders, pull at the end of your shirt, and take a deep breath before you open the door.

Ez and Max are walking down the shiny ramp that descends from their ship, sans helmets as per usual, but wearing their Mandalorian armor. Both of them opted to paint them in shades of red and orange, the sigil of their clan embossed across their chests in a starting white, something that looked like the winged creatures that dwelt along the cliffs on their home planet. The same cliffs that each child that walked the path of the Mandalore had to scale by themselves barehanded when they came of age and bring back the head of the winged creatures to earn their place.

When Ez called to proudly tell you what he and Max had done to earn them you'd been horrified. Especially because the creatures were three times the size of a Mudhorn and were known for dismembering people to feed to their hatchlings while their victims were still alive.

Your brother smiles wide, shouting your name over the wind that surges up and rustles through your hair playfully, sending dust swirling across the plains towards the formidable mountains in the distance. The sun brings a pleasant warmth over your body as you step out from under Din's porch mirroring your brother's smile.

"Baby sis!" He grabs you around the waist in a bear hug, smooshing your body against the front of his armor.

"Can't breathe-" You gasp dramatically as he squeezes you tighter.

Ez drops you with a chuckle as the wind shuffles through his thick hair with a heavy hand, pulling a few strands from the bun at the nape of his neck. "Did you miss me?"

"Nope." You turn and smile widely at the man standing behind your brother. "But I did miss Max!"

Max looks better than he did the last time you saw him. His blonde hair curled over his shoulders turning the strands gold in the warm sunlight, the perfectly trimmed beard that frames his face a few shades darker than the hair on his head. His brilliant blue eyes shimmer like two iridescent pools and crinkle around the edges as he smiles revealing perfectly straight teeth.

The last time you'd seen him was months ago when you went to stay with your brother following your grandmother's death. Max knew how upset you were when she passed, and he'd spent days trying his upmost to cheer you up.

He mirrors your enthusiasm, shouting your name just as loud as you had shouted his, grabbing you around the waist and spinning you in a circle. Your cardigan billows out behind you with the movement as a giggle passes through your lips.

 "I missed you." Max's voice is soft as he moves his hand up to cup your cheek, brushing his thumb over the smooth skin of your cheekbone. "You're even more beautiful than the last time I saw you."

His brilliant blue eyes search your face, strands of his gilded hair falling forward to frame his strong jaw.

"Max-" You begin to say, blushing bright red in embarrassment. He had never said anything like that to you before. "Shut up." You roll your eyes at him and slap him playfully on the shoulder- something that hurts a little bit due to the Beskar.

But instead of pulling back or laughing, Max threads his fingers in your hair at the nape of your neck and closes the distance between the two of you so fast that you don't have time to think.

Everything about the kiss feels wrong, the press of his lips against yours, the brush of his beard against the delicate skin of your cheeks, the soft sigh he makes as he tries to deepen it, and the smell of his skin as you inhale in surprise.

It was shocking.

You'd never seen Max as more than a friend, not once in your life. In fact, the last time the two of you saw each other Max had specifically called you "the sister he never wanted, but was stuck with."

Not to mention you knew that he didn't have feelings for you because you'd given him some advice on how to catch the attention of a woman back on his planet that he'd been in love with forever.

So why is he doing this?

You don't have long to contemplate that question, because something or rather someone, rushes past you and plows into Max so fast that it makes your head spin.

Din and Max land in the mud, Din's body pinning Max to the ground, as dirt flies through the air around them.

You hadn't heard the front door open. Hadn't known that the second Din heard your door open and you walk down the hallway that he'd woken up trained to wake from the smallest sound. Hadn't known that Din had been agonizing over going in the kitchen and trying to find the courage to tell you how he felt, to tell you the one thing that he'd been trying to tell you since the moment he met you. Hadn't seen Din standing in the shadow of the porch when you hugged your brother.

Ez snorts a laugh, watching the two Mandalorians rolling around in the mud. "Guess I lose."

"Lose what? Din get off of him!" You shout trying to find your footing as you take a step towards Din and Max, but the mud is slippery and you stumble into your brother where he still shakes with laughter.

"Max bet me two seconds. I bet seven."

"For what? Din please!" You yell as Din throws a punch into Max's face, but Max only laughs and rolls Din over in the mud. Both Mandalorians are covered in dirt, the silver of Din's beskar splashed with brown murk, as the solid slap of their bodies against the earth fills the air.

What the hell is going on?

"For Din to punch him." Ez shrugs. He doesn't look the least bit perturbed by the scene happening in front of him.

"What? Why would you bet that?"

"Max he's had enough." Ez says ignoring your question, while Max pins Din's arms in the dirt above his head.

"I don't think he has-" Max begins, his hair sticking to his face in a brown mat, but then Din kicks up with his knee and rolls back on top of him.

You can't help but feel a little proud of your Mandalorian for that move. Din was one of the best warriors that you'd ever met, but it didn't make you worry about him any less.

No stop it! He's not my Mandalorian. Din only sees me as a friend. Then why did he react that way when Max kissed me?

The thought makes you hesitate for a moment.

Why did he react that way? He tackled Max, he pushed him away from me. That's not exactly a normal reaction.

It wasn't in the slightest. But the moment that Max pressed his lips to yours, all Din had seen was red. The rage and jealousy that flooded through his entire body the second another man kissed you made Din feel like he was being ripped and torn apart. Din had been hurt many times in his life, the scars that remained from encounters all over the galaxy and stood out against his honeyed skin was a testament to that, but seeing Max kiss you hurt him more than any of those wounds combined.

Din grits his teeth, hand curling into a fist as another wave of rage and frustration crashes over him and he throws a punch into Max’s face.  Any Mandalorian would have known that you belonged to Din, the sigil that hung around your neck was proof of that. You were his. And Max had not only disrespected you, he had disrespected Din.

And Din was going to make him pay for touching you.

"Din please stop." You shout as you take a slippery step forward towards Din, reaching out for his shoulder to steady yourself, but you miscalculate and your whole body crashes into him, pushing him off of Max and tumbling back into the mud with you on top of his chest.

Din's gloved hands go around your waist as you tumble, taking the full brunt of the fall against his back with a loud grunt. You're laying on top of him, the sharp points of his metal armor sticking uncomfortably into the soft curves of your body, surely leaving behind bruises.

Ez helps Max to his feet, patting him on the back once, both of them sprouting matching grins as they look at where you and Din are locked in an intimate embrace.

"Are you gonna tell her what cyare really means Din?" Ez crows with another laugh, glimmering with mirth. "Or maybe cyar'ika?"

Din's body stiffens beneath yours, hands tightening on your waist, as his helmet turns to look up at you. A wave of shame and embarrassment crashes over you. You hadn't expected your brother to show up here and do something like this. Yes, Ez didn't take things seriously, but you didn't think that he would intentionally hurt Din…

Would he?

But the feeling of Din's gaze on you doesn't bring its usual warmth, instead it makes your body go cold, and makes you turn your eyes away from him. You hadn't meant for something like this to happen. All you'd wanted was for Din and you to talk about this.

Not for Ez and Max to come here and do this!

What have I done?

"Or maybe why you gave her your sigil?" Max snorts, gesturing to the pendant that hangs between the two of your bodies, glinting a brilliant silver in the morning sun.

Din pushes you off of him gently into the space beside him, but you can feel the tenseness of his body as he rises to his feet. He doesn't slide in the mud as he walks into the house, spine stock straight refusing to look back. Grogu waits for him on the porch, cooing in confusion at his father's obvious anger and frustration, reaching up for him, but Din stalks past slamming the door loud enough to make you flinch.

You rise to your feet successfully without falling back into the mud, and plant your hands on your hips. "Why the hell did you do that?" You shout at Max who looks pleased with himself.

"You're mad at me?" He puts a hand to his chest as if he's done nothing wrong

"Yes! You embarrassed him. You didn't have to come all this way and-"

"Don't be mad at Max it was my idea." Ez says. "But you shouldn't be mad at us at all."

"Why not?" You snap.

"He's been calling you his beloved." Ez laughs. "If anything be mad at him for lying to you."

"His what?" You sputter in shock.

Wait a minute. Din's been calling me his beloved? That can't be right it's-

"Cyare doesn't mean friend it means 'beloved'." Max shakes a hand through his muddy hair, pushing it back from his face, but still smiling at you. "When he started bringing you back gifts is probably when he started courting you."

"Courting me? But-then-what?" No words make sense, no thoughts correctly process in your head, because this entire time Din had feelings for you, real feelings that he kept to himself.

But why didn't he tell me? Why did he keep making me think that I was his friend? Why didn't he-

"And as for the necklace-" Ez gestures to the pendant. "That was probably when he proposed."

"Proposed?" Your mouth goes completely dry. "He pro-posed? He didn't propose, he just gave it to me."

"Did he say anything about you 'accepting' it?" Max raises an eyebrow.

"No he-" You stop, remembering how nervous he was when you said that you couldn't accept it. When you told him that it was too much and he should spend the money on Grogu instead and he said that he wanted to get you something.

Oh holy mother of margarine, Din proposed to me? Why didn't he say anything? I would have said yes so fast it would have made hyperspeed look like a stroll in the park!

"As for the moving in," Ez gestures back to the house. "Pretty sure you get the picture."

But he- he. You try to reason inside of your head, mind beginning to spiral down, down, down the winding staircase into madness. He said he just wanted me to be safe, that he wanted to make sure that I was okay, and-

Another thought bobs to the surface.

Did he ask me to move in because he thought that we were married?

Your cheeks warm with the promise of what marriage meant. The memory of what Din said being married to him would be like, the thought that you’d be able to see Din, all of him, the very thing that kept you up at night.

But still why did he lie about that? Did he think I would say no? That I wouldn't want to be with him?

Grogu stumbles through the mud towards you, little feet squishing down into the muck. You pick him up. He babbles, pointing back at the house, asking you about Din.

"It's okay." You shush him, gently, rubbing his ears while he looks at you with confusion. He didn't understand why his father was acting that way, ignoring him, and stomping into the house.

Honestly everything you thought you knew was crashing down around you as well, so you weren't sure how to comfort Grogu when you thought you were going insane.

"Come on, aren't you gonna go see your husband?" Max snorts wiggling his eyebrows. "He might want to make up."

"Shut up." You snap, eyes narrowed.

Both Max and Ez stop laughing, smiles dropping into shocked frowns. They weren't used to you being so angry. It was an emotion that you did not express often, you hated being angry, and  it took a lot for you to lose it. The last time had been when Mrs. Cross had said those things about Din in front of you and you ripped her a new one. But both of them knew that if you were mad, they had messed up big time.

And you were about to make what you said to Ms. Cross look like a toddler kicking over a tower of blocks compared to what you were going to say to Ez and Max.

"How could you do that? Why? He's-" Your jaw clenches together in anger and frustration. "He's so guarded, he never lets himself be vulnerable and you two idiots hurt him. You didn't have to taunt him that way! I didn't ask you to come here and act like two uncultured Wampas! Din has been a good friend to me in all the time I've lived here, he's protected me, he's been here for me, and he's cared for me. He didn't deserve any of what just happened!"

Ez sighs your name.

"I'm not finished!" You snap. "What you did is unforgivable. You think this is funny? Din saved my life. He is the most selfless person I've ever met and you two come out here bumbling around like a rancor on a speeder thinking that you can just take advantage of what I told you and make a joke out of it!? Din is my friend. This is my life you're screwing with!"

"We didn't mean to do that, honestly." Max breathes hanging his head slightly.

"And I- I-." You stutter. "I care about him more than I've cared about anyone."

"Then you should tell him, he obviously likes you." Ez tries again with a sheepish smile. "Come on we can-"

"No. I want you two to leave." You say, turning towards the house with Grogu staring over your shoulder at them.

"What?" Ez blinks in confusion. You'd never done anything like this to him before, never kicked him out. He knew that you loved whenever he visited, looked forward to it, but this was different. The two of you had never had a fight before, not when he was usually the one who lost his temper and you were the one there with treats to smooth things over.

"I want you two to leave." You repeat, not turning. "You've done enough"

They had and you weren't sure how to fix any of this. Because now it wasn't just a matter of Din and you talking about what 'this' was between the two of you, it was about what your brother had done and about why Din had lied. Things had spiraled out of control so fast, and you didn't know how to reign it in.

"But-"

You don't stop walking, and you don't want to listen to anything Max or your brother has to say. "And don't bother coming back unless you've come to apologize."

"Wait" Ez tries to say, but you slam the door behind you living in the uncomfortable silence of your new home.

The light that brought warmth through the house when you woke this morning does little to stop the chill of the events outside.

Din isn't in the kitchen or in the living room, but a trail of muddy footprints leads further into the house and down the hallway, cutting off as soon as you reach his bedroom door.

You stand outside for a minute thinking of what to say.

How do I- Should I be angry at him that he didn't tell me? Hurt that he didn't want to tell me? Upset that he lied?

Shock was still rattling your brain around in your head with what Ez and Max had told you. Everything felt like a lie now. Din had been calling you 'cyare' since you'd said those things to Mrs. Cross months ago, been bringing you gifts since the day he killed the Transdoshan for you.

You were still embarrassed and ashamed by what had happened outside, and you were sure that Din may have been feeling something similar, but it did little to stop the unease that prickled beneath your skin when you thought about how Din lied to you about what 'cyare' meant. You supposed that you had hidden your feelings too, but you'd never outright lied to Din about them. And you certainly hadn't proposed to Din secretly.

The pendant burns a hole through your chest where it rests between your collarbones, the weight of it around your neck suddenly like a twenty pound dumbbell.

Din was shy. You knew that. You knew him. But you wished he had told you, wished that he hadn't kept this big secret from you, because then the two of you could have avoided this entire situation!

You raise your hand to knock. "Din?"

He doesn't answer.

"Din I know you're in there, please open the door."

"I don't feel like talking right now." You hear his response, it's sharp and cuts deep, the same tone he had that day in the street when you brother visited.

Another thing he lied about, because he was jealous when he saw Ez and me.

Judging by the cadence of his voice you could tell that Din wasn't wearing his helmet.

"I don't know why they felt the need to come here and do that but I'm sorry." You sigh holding Grogu closer to your body. "Please talk to me. I want to talk about this. All of this-"

The door opens so suddenly that you think you imagined it for a moment, the space beyond suddenly filling with Din's formidable figure. Din is still covered in mud from head to toe, now wearing his helmet, but looks just as intimidating as he usually does.

"Why did you tell them that?" His voice sounds garbled through the helmet, but you can sense his hurt.

The shame rises like bile into the back of your throat, stomach knotting all over again.

"I was confused. I still am confused. I-"

Din doesn't let you finish.

"I told you that we would discuss it when I got home." His teeth are gritted together, the sound of his voice a low growl. "You did not need to bring your brother and that Mandalorian into this." Din spits 'that Mandalorian' as if it's a curse. "Do you have any idea what it did to me to see him touch you? To see him kiss you?" Din roars.

Your throat grows unnaturally tight, the shame was back, but instead of it surging up, anger bites at the tip of your tongue first.

"No, I don't!" You shout, eyes burning with tears.

Din's body goes tense in surprise, he hadn't been expecting you to be mad, but you were. You were so frustrated about this whole situation and angry with him for lying to you, and upset that this was the way it all came out.

"Because you didn't explain any of this to me! You just kept it to yourself, never said a word, and lied to me about all of this!"

Frustrated tears crest and fall down your cheeks, and your voice cracks, but you can't stop.

"I can't believe that this whole time you lied to me about this! That you would-" You shake your head unable to stop the emotions from building in the back of your throat. You wipe at your face with your free hand while Grogu, coos softly against your chest, raising his little three fingered claw to your chin.

Din mutters your name, but you don't let him talk.

"Damn it Din, I don't understand why you would keep all of this from me! You made me think that you just wanted to be friends and I spent weeks agonizing over telling you how I felt, trying not to be discouraged when I thought you were calling me your friend and pushing me away, when the whole time I wanted to tell you that I love you!" The words come out in a rush, like word vomit, but you can't keep them in anymore. Not when you're done with all of this, embarrassed about what happened outside, and angry with Din.

And maybe you know that you shouldn't be, that Din was Din, and it was often like trying to Heimlich him to get him to talk, but you felt humiliated, embarrassed that it was your brother and his best friend of all people who had to explain this to you, explain how Din felt about you. It made you feel like a little kid who didn't understand how sex worked until one day your parents sat down with you and had the talk.

Din doesn't move, in fact he can't really breathe, not when you've just said the three little words that he'd been so desperate to tell you since the moment he met you. The same ones that got stuck in his throat whenever he tried to say them aloud. The same ones that Din didn't truly believe that you'd ever say to him.

He hated that Max had kissed you, had placed his lips on yours, defiled you that way. You were his, but Din just couldn't find the courage to tell you what those words meant. You were so different than him, with an easy smile that warmed his heart, and a soft laugh that made him smile. He didn't want to scare you away, didn't want you to fear him the way others did. He wanted you here with him all the time.

Din had never wanted to break his code for anyone before, even for Omera who wished for him to remain with her, but for you he would do anything.

But he didn't court you just so that he didn't have to break the code, he tried to court you because you were unlike any other person he had ever met. The way you smiled at him was so open and vulnerable that each time he felt something deep down break open. Your easy nature and ability to speak to everyone who passed you in the market made him smile.

And Din loved that you took care of him. He wasn't used to that. You always baked him treats and sent him on his way with enough food to feed him and Grogu several times over whenever he went off planet for a bounty. You made him feel loved, more loved than he'd ever felt. You cared about him. He could see it in the way you looked at him, the soft touches on his arm to catch his attention, the gentle squeeze of your hand in his when you asked him a question, the subtle tilt of your head in his direction when you believed he wasn't looking, and in the way that you were always there to listen to him.

You stand there for a second in the silence, breath trembling, the echo of your words still in the air between the two of you, waiting for Din to say something, anything, but he doesn't. Oblivious to the plethora of emotions ricocheting in Din's head.

I told him I love him and he said absolutely nothing. Can this day get any worse?

"Din?" Cara knocks on the front door, before opening it with a loud creak. She spots the two of you. "Oh hey. I was just stopping by because Din told me he'd help me with-"

And there it is.

You don't really hear what she says, the anger and frustration beating against your ribcage was louder than the sound of her voice.  Because right on time Din was going to get another excuse to leave you waiting. To make you suffer in silence and wait for him to have another talk that got the two of you absolutely nowhere. And you were so tired of it.

"Oh good." You clip your words, clearing your throat, but the burn of your tears is still there. You take a step back from Din and adjust Grogu in your arms. "You guys have fun."

"Wait-" Din says.

"There's breakfast on the stove." You begin to move down the hallway in the direction of your bedroom, heartbreak and frustration dueling in your chest, but Din's hand comes out and grabs your wrist.

His grip isn't tight, doesn’t hurt, but it's enough to make you stop and stare up at him with wide eyes. Din plucks Grogu from your arms with his free hand, the other still fastened on your wrist to keep you where you are,  and hands Grogu to Cara, who looks confused.

"I can't help you today." Din says, but his helmet doesn’t turn in her direction, it stays centered on you. "I'm sorry. But can you watch the kid?”

"Um-" She looks from Din to you. Her eyes trace the tear streaks on your face, something softening in her gaze that looks like understanding. "Sure."

"Thanks."

She backs out of the house slowly, still a little unsure of what's going on, but understanding enough to know that Din and you need to be left alone.

Din gently leads you to his room.

His bedroom is similar to yours, holds only a dark wooden wardrobe, a matching bedside table, a few shelves bolted to the walls, a large bed that's still unmade with the white sheets and hole-ridden blanket scrunched at the end of one side, the walls are painted the same cream colored shade as the rest of the house, but there's no mirror. That makes sense to you, Din didn't exactly have to check his hair before he left.

Your eyes trace over the bed, as Din shuts his bedroom door, and your throat tightens. It was one thing to be in Din's living room with him alone, but a completely other universe to be standing in the darkened shadows of his bedroom, enveloped with the scent that you'd ascribed to Din since the first moment he came into your shop looking for Grogu.

The strong smell of oiled leather, metal, gunpowder, and something spicy that tickles the tip of your nose and can never put a name to. It always brought comfort, but now there's another sensation crackling through your body, an energy that pulses and thrums through the space between where you stand and where Din hovers by the door.

Your confession still rings heavy in your ears, made worse by Din's silence, the tears on your face drawing patterns along  the soft skin of your cheeks.

"I don't know how to-" Din bows his head, the rest of his sentence dying in the back of his throat.

"Why did you lie?" You breathe as you cross your arms over your chest.

Din doesn't answer.

The silence in the room is fraught with tension pulled so tight you think that something will snap. You're trying to be patient with him, but there's still a little part of you that's hurt he lied about something so important.

"Because I didn't think that you'd ever want me the way I want you." His voice is no more than a whisper, the words buzzing through the modulator of his helmet. Din's helmet is turned towards the ground away from you, as if he's ashamed.

Fresh tears build in your eyes with his confession, your heart breaking for him. You hated that he felt that way. That even after all the time you spent together, Din didn't believe that you would stay when everyone else left.

"Why would you think that?" You take a step closer to him and grab his hand, entwining your fingertips together, the anger you felt moments ago long gone.

Din's helmet turns to look at your hand in his. It looks small. Everything about Din was big compared to you, and you loved that. It made it all the more sweeter when you found yourself in his arms.

"You're nothing like me." Din raises his head and you can feel his gaze on you. His freehand comes to cup your cheek, trailing warmth across your skin. "Whenever I walk down the road everyone crosses to avoid me. No one goes out of their way to speak to me, not the way you do. You're kind. You make people smile and laugh, and you always find something to smile about. You're always ready to help someone else, to bake something, or make something without anyone giving you anything in return.  I've never met someone so eager to help, so ready to sacrifice so much just to make sure someone else is happy. You're this one bright spot, someone who shouldn't exist in a galaxy like this let alone on Nevarro and a light that I'm so scared I'm going to put out because you deserve better. You shouldn't want me-"

"Why not?" You squeeze his hand.

"I'm not a good person." Din bows his head again, but he does not release your cheek. "I don't deserve this. I don't deserve you. Not after everything I've done. I've tried to walk away so many times, tried to keep my distance-"

You reach up to hold the left side of his helmet, finding the familiar indention to raise his head so that he's looking at you again. "I don't want you to walk away."

"You don't know what I've done." He shakes his head.

"Then tell me." You tilt his head downward against yours. Din sighs as the metal rests against your forehead, fogging slightly against the warmth of your skin. "Ever since the day we met you've kept those pieces of your life separate from me, but I want to know. I want to know each dark secret, every haunting memory, the story behind every scar, every wonder that you've seen- I want you to show me the darkest parts and let me love you anyway."

"You won't."

"You don't know that." You breathe while staring up into the t-shaped visor of his helmet, searching for his gaze. "I could say the same thing about me, Din."

"What?" His thumb softly traces over your cheek.

"Why would you want someone like me? I'm nothing like you or Cara." You half-smile and wish that you could touch him for real, wish that you could trace the plains of his face, kiss the frown you can sense away. You wanted to bring him comfort, wanted to show him that you didn't care about the man he thought he was, that you only cared about the man you knew him to be. "I don't know how to fight or protect myself. I don't know how to shoot a gun. I'm not intimidating at all. The only thing I know how to do is bake things. I'm just me."

"I love those things about you. I love that you're soft." Din murmurs. "That you take care of me in a way that no one ever has. You make Grogu and I feel loved-" His voice cracks a little bit on that word. "I haven't felt that, not in such a long time. You're not 'just anything', you're my Cyare. Without you there is nothing but the still silence of space. Without you there is no life and no light. But with you there are stars, suns, and planets that bask in your light as I wish to each day. I am nothing without you."

You gasp softly, your heart fluttering in your chest as heat rises in your chest like the sun over the peaks of the distant mountains. Because Din loved you, all of you, just the way you always wanted him to.

“You make me feel loved too.” You whisper. “You protect me, make me feel safe, take care of me, and listen whenever I talk. Other people may not see how gentle and caring you are, but I do. I love seeing that side of you, when you hold my hand and walk with me or when you help me shop in the market. I know you're afraid because you think that you don't deserve love, but I-“ You swallow the lump in your throat, preparing yourself to say the next words for the second time. “I love you Din. Please let me."

His helmet presses harder against your forehead with the confession, the hand clasped between your two bodies releasing your hand to wrap around your waist and pull your body tight into his chest. "I love you too." The words are measured, each one buzzing in the helmet, but still make you feel like your body is catching fire one cell at a time.

You smile so wide it hurts, and you can feel the same smile mirrored on Din's face within his helm, but it does little to satisfy the need you have to see it.

"Din?"

"Hmm?" He sighs, holding you tighter against him.

“Were you asking me to marry you when you gave me this?”  You reach for the pendant at your throat.

“Yes.”

“And when I took it I was saying yes?”

“You were accepting my courtship.” Din whispers.

“Is that why you punched Max? Because-“

“Because you are my cyare. He should have known that the moment he saw the pendant. He had no right to touch you, let alone kiss you.” Din almost growls. His arm tightens around your waist for emphasis and it makes a shiver go down your spine. But he loosens his grip a fraction when he hears your gasp, afraid that he's said too much. “Perhaps I should not be so-“

“No.” You whisper looking up into the helmet, cheeks warming. “I am yours.”’

Din sighs out a happy sound and drops his forehead into your shoulder. “Yes.” The arm he has around your waist doesn't  move, in fact, Din's entire body seems to slump down against you, the weight of his body wrapped around you like a warm blanket, as he relaxes into you.

“How would we get married?” You ask him, trailing your hands up his back, not wanting to let him go for a second.

You feel Din's entire body go tense in your arms.

Should I not have asked him that? Was that wrong?

"We would exchange a vow."

"What's the vow?"

Din raises his head from your shoulder leaning back so his helmet is tilted towards you once more. You blink up at him, waiting for him to answer you. “We are one when we are together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors.”

You listen to each statement, the words rolling over in your head, the weight of them settling in your chest. It was more than what you'd expected, but in the severity of the sentences, there was something else. Now you understood when Din said his riduur would be the other half of him, because he would not be one without her.

Without me.

The thought makes your cheeks heat and a warm feeling travel down the length of your spine. Din wanted you, wanted to marry you, loved you, and you couldn't help but think that any moment you would wake up from a dream. But this was real. And it was exactly how you felt whenever Din wasn't with you. It felt like a piece of yourself was missing, and whenever he came back you were whole again.

“And if I say it we're married?”

“Yes.”

“Will I get to see your face?”  You ask, smiling shyly.

It was all you wanted. You wanted all of Din, to hold his face in the palms of your hands, to trace the criss-cross of scars over his sun-kissed skin, and to hear the warm cadence of his voice in your ear while he held you in his arms.

He swallows. “Yes.”

“Will you say it with me?" Your hands rest against the cool metal of his chest plate, looking up at the reflection of yourself in the polished metal of his helm. "In Mando’a?”

“We don't have to." Din shakes his head. "Not now-"

Din didn't want to force you to do it now, not even when he was fighting every instinct he had not to rip his helmet off and kiss you.

Stars he wanted to. He hated that the last person you kissed was Max. Din wanted to kiss you so hard that you forgot all about that golden-haired jerk outside. Wanted to take you to bed and make you forget all about everything else but him. But he was hesitant. You'd never seen what he looked like. How could you love him?

“I want to. I want you Din. I don’t want anyone else.” 

“Are you sure? You’ve never seen my face.” He mutters.

“I’ve seen your heart.” You take his helmeted head between the palms of your hands gently, leaning it down against your forehead once more. “And that is enough for me Din. I love you. Every part of you. Even the parts you try to hide from me."

He sighs again, but leans into you, his eyes searching your face for any hesitancy. He won't find any. You didn't care that you'd never seen what he looked like, you loved Din for the man he was. There was no doubt in your mind, no fear, nothing, just Din.

Din says the vow in Mando’a slowly so you can grasp the words and repeat it back the best you can, smiling up at him all the while, because now Din was yours and you couldn't think of anything more wonderful.

A few moments of silence pass in the wake of the exchange of the vow, a nervous energy buzzing in the pit of your stomach.

“Ner riduur.” Din murmurs tracing your face with his fingertips. "is mesh'la."

You look up at him in confusion at his use of the word.

"Beautiful." He amends, the smile in his voice evident. You could hear his voice cracking just a little bit, as if Din was just as excited and happy as you were and it made your cheeks heat and your heart soar.

"C-can I-" You stumble slightly, still holding his helmet between your hands not wanting to remove it if he didn't want you to.

Din felt like his own heart was going to explode from his chest given how fast it was beating. He couldn't believe that you'd accepted him, that you wanted him, that you had held his face in your hands and said those things to him without a waver in your voice, smiling softly at him the way that always made him feel like his legs would give out. He didn't believe that someone like you would have wanted him a fraction of the way he wanted you, but here you were.

You were his riduur now, but there was still a part of Din that was nervous. You'd said the vow without knowing what he looked like and he was afraid that you would be disappointed by what you found beneath.

"I might not be as handsome as other people." Din mutters, his head tilts down away from you, but his hands find your wrists resting lightly against them. "Max is- he's more-" He trails off, but you know what he's thinking.

A flash of Max's perfectly tan skin, golden blond hair, and startling blue eyes flickers across your mind with the mention of his name. But it does nothing for you. You didn't love Max, didn't feel anything towards him the way you felt about Din. Max was your friend, but Din was- Din was your everything.

You feel tears gather in your eyes when Din says that, heart breaking for the man you love. You hated that he felt so little about himself. And you make a promise to yourself right then and there to spend the rest of your life making him see what you did.

"Din?"

"Yeah?"

"Please look at me." You whisper, gently raising his helmeted head so you can look into his visor.

His hands tighten slightly on your wrists with the movement, but you know his gaze is on you now.

"You are my husband, the other half of me. I am not whole without you."

"But-"

"No." You shake you head. "I may not have seen your face, but I've seen your kindness, your strength, your will, your care, and your selflessness." With each of these affirmations you press a kiss to where his nose, his cheeks, his forehead, his chin, and his jaw would be beneath the helmet. "I don't care what you look like, because I love you. I don't want Max, I never have. And even if it takes me the rest of my life to prove to you how special you are to me, and how much I love you, then so be it. Because I only want you, Din."

Din felt his throat tighten. You were looking at him again the way that made he feel like you could see through him, as if you could see past the metal and leather and into him. See him in a way that no one else had ever cared to.

He nods once.

The anxious energy is back thrumming through your veins as you slowly lift the metal helm from his head all the while fighting the urge to shut your eyes, reminding yourself that Din is your husband now and there wasn't anything wrong with it. You place it reverently on the bedside table before turning back to Din.

The man standing in front of you has his eyes shut tightly. His dark wavy hair, thick and fluffy, flattened on one side while other strands stick up in the back. You smile and smooth them down with your fingertips, earning a deep sigh that rumbles up through the man's chest.

But he still doesn’t look at you.

You gently take his chin in your hand and raise his face to get a better view, a gasp finding it's way through your parted lips when you look at him.

Because he's beautiful. Din Djarin is one of the most beautiful men you'd ever seen even with his eyes closed. You trace the planes of his face, memorizing the proud hook of his nose, the arch of his brow, the strength of his jaw and the stubble that covers it, the fullness of his bottom lip, and the tickle of his mustache against the tip of your fingers. Fulfilling the wish you'd wanted since the moment he came into your shop.

Din sighs again, this time leaning forward into your touch as if he can't help himself, wrapping one arm around your waist once more to bring you into him.

I can't believe this beautiful man is all mine.

"Din?"

"Hmm." He says, not opening his eyes.

"Riduur." You kiss him softly along his jaw, his scruff scratching against your lips pleasantly. "Please open your eyes and look at me."

His eyes blink open and it takes your breath away. They are dark brown, the color of fresh brewed coffee, and search your face, something brightening within as they do.

Has he always looked at me like this? All these months that I've known him? These are the eyes underneath the helmet that have kept a careful watch over me, made sure I was safe?

"There you are." You smile wider, cupping his cheeks happily.

"Are you disappointed?" Din whispers, mouth turning down into a frown.

Even in a whisper the real cadence of his voice is enough to make your legs feel like jelly, and coupled with the deep brown of his eyes you knew for a fact that you were going to wake up from this dream at any moment.

"Yes. I am.” You murmur back with a smile. “I am incredibly disappointed that you decide to hide in that helmet. Because damn it Din, you are the most beautiful man I've ever seen in my life."

He blushes, face turning a dusky red beneath your scrutiny, and it makes you love him even more.

"My riduur is mesh'la." You coo using the compliment he gave you moments ago while kissing along his cheeks cheeks and making his blush darken.

"I think my riduur is mesh'la too." He whispers, gently brushing your hair back from your face and it’s your turn to blush.

Dins hand finds its way to the back of your head, pulling your face a few inches closer to his, while his eyes trace across your features looking for any sign of hesitation. A quirk of a brow, a twitch on the end of your lips, something that he could see that would show him you didn’t want him, but there’s nothing there. There’s only the smile you always had for him that made him feel like he was home, the twinkle in your eyes he only found in the starlight above, and the gentle smell of sugar and spice that seemed to follow you around whenever you went.

Kissing him is nothing like kissing Max. Not that you were comparing them, because kissing Din is like slowly inching closer and closer to a star. Heat travels from your lips to the tips of your toes and sets you on fire, as Din's mouth meets yours. His armor is hard and unyielding beneath the palms of your hands as you work them up his chest plate before they find solace in the dark tangle of his hair at the nape of his neck.

Din lets loose a low groan into your mouth, tightening the hands he has on your waist to pull you tighter against him, so tight that you're sure they'll be bruises marked along your body where the points of his armor met your soft skin, but you don't care. Nothing else matters. Not when you're slowly sinking into him, losing everything you are and gaining all of Din. Not when Din is kissing you like he never wants to stop and not when you're kissing him back like you never want him to.

His body pushes you backward and you're suddenly on his bed, the smell of him everywhere, soaking through the air like the heady scent of a thunderstorm before it hits. A gasp works it's way through where his lips meet yours as the weight of his body falls on top of yours.

"Are you alright?" Din's eyes open, pupils dilated, lips red and swollen, his hair sticking out in two directions.

"Yeah." You half-laugh, kissing him again. "Your armor is heavy."

"I'm sorry-" He smiles into your mouth, cheeks turning that dusky red color that you'll never get tired of.

You gently run your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, loving the way the strands fall through your fingertips. "It's okay. I mean you could- could um-" You swallow. "You could take it off?"

Din's body tenses above yours.

You had absolutely no expirence when it came to this. Hadn't had anyone in the past that meant anything as much as Din. So basically you had no "moves" whatsoever, and saying something like "take off your clothes right now" sounded ridiculous, and too aggressive.

But you weren't afraid, not of Din, not ever. You were more nervous.

"Or if you're not comfortable with that-" Your cheeks heat as you stumble through your next sentence. You were quickly realizing that maybe you shouldn't be worried about you, rather you should be worried about Din.

Maybe taking off his helmet was too much for him today. Maybe we're moving too fast... I mean, he's my husband at some point we'd have to-

"I can wait a little longer or a lot longer. As long as you need me to Din I-"

"I can't." Din growls into your mouth with a searing kiss as his hands follow the curves of your body, making your hands tighten at the back of his head and a gasp slip from your mouth. "And I think we've both waited long enough, don't you?" His brown eyes glimmer darkly with a promise that makes your body feel like jelly beneath him.

He's going to be the death of me... but what a way to go.

A/N: Well, it's been a bumpy miscommunication potholed filled road... but it's about time 🤣

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated! The comments really keep me going! If you'd liked to be added to my taglist for fics in this universe please let me know!

Taglist:

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[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Why Did You Lie?

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader, Reader POV, Din POV

Summary: All you want is for Din to tell you what you mean to him, but your brother and his best friend have other plans. Takes place after Season 3 when Din and Grogu have been living in their cabin on Nevarro. This is the eighth fic in my Sugar, Spice, and Starlight Series!

Tropes: Bakery AU, Grumpy vs. Sunshine, Mutual Pining, Fluff, SLOW BURN (NOT ANYMORE BABY!), Miscommunication (just gonna keep it going), Stubborn!Din, Anxious!Reader, Forced Proximity, Idiots in Love.

Word Count: 10K (I'm not apologizing for this I love it too much)

Warnings: Unwanted Kiss (Not From Din), Sibling Antics, Anxiety, Lil bit of cursing (3ish words?) Fluff, Angst, FLUFF, ANGST, Miscommunication (It's a Given At This Point), Idiots in Love, implied sex, references to sex, making out, the reader is really soft, likes to bake, and take care of Din and Grogu? Reader being a little bit self-deprecating? Reader might be a little anxious. Din might also be anxious. Din being a little bit self-deprecating to himself? Din might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is no use of y/n! I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite! I'm just starting to write for Din, so please be gentle.

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

A/N: Well, here we go...

Guide:

Cyare: Beloved

Cyar'ika: Sweetheart

Burc’ya: Friend

Riduur: Spouse/Partner

Light moves in a fluid wave up your body from beneath the sheer white curtains that softly ripple in the air conditioning. The early morning sun rising sleepily from the horizon and causing you to stir from a fitful sleep, the best you’d had in… you couldn't remember how long.

You blink bleary eyed, sheets crinkling with the soft movement of your body as you sit up.

Confusion fizzles at the back of your mind.

You didn't remember falling asleep in your bedroom. The last thing you remembered was having dinner with Grogu, putting together a plate on the stove for Din, and then going to sit on the couch with a book to wait for him to come home. Grogu had curled up in your lap, his warm little body resting on top of you while you read quietly from another book that Din had brought you back from one of his trips.

All the while practically made of anxiety and frustration.

You had no idea how to start the conversation about what the two of you were, with Din without blurting at the top of your lungs "I love you" and then waiting for him to awkwardly tell you to move out when he said he didn't.

Because how else would he react?

You believed that he'd put you in the friendzone and there wasn't any way out.

At least…

Your mind wanders to the "kiss" the two of you shared yesterday. How the smooth metal of his helmet fogged with the warmth from your forehead where they were pressed together, how Din sighed- not the harsh way he usually did, but a softer sound that made your heart flutter, how his gloves fit over your cheeks with a gentleness that Din didn't have for anyone else when he held your face to his, and how looking up into the t-shaped visor made your cheeks heat as you felt his gaze on you.

It felt like more then. The few precious seconds that you spent locked in his embrace living in that moment, seemed special, as if it was just the two of you. And then Karga had ruined it, as always.

But that doesn't answer how I got here.

You think, stretching your arms over your head, the quilt and sheets falling to your waist. You were still wearing the soft oversized t-shirt and pair of plain sweatpants you'd put on last night.

Maybe I was sleepwalking and-

The thought stutters to a halt as you turn to look at your bedside table and notice a bouquet of brightly colored flowers wrapped in brown paper. They're beautiful, blooms of dark red, purple, with hints of blue all woven together seamlessly, the delicate smell tickling the tip of your nose.

Din got me flowers?

He'd never brought you flowers before. Colorful stones rubbed smooth from oceans on another planet, shells of varying sizes, books, carved figures made from strong mahogany colored wood, an embroidered apron, but never flowers. No gift that seemed romantic or-

Your hand goes to the pendant around your neck, the metal warming where it rests against your skin.

The pendant was just as shocking as the multicolored bouquet sitting on your bedside table. Both of which seemed to scream that there was something else at work here, that Din maybe, possibly, wanted to be more than friends, that maybe he felt the same way about you.

But then why does he keep calling me his friend in Mando'a?!

It was so frustrating that it made you want to scream, but you just let out a huffy sigh. The frustration only grew more when you remembered how Ez had acted when you told him what Din was calling you and your brother explained absolutely nothing about it, only said that he was coming today and bringing Max.

Max, who was his best friend and didn't take things seriously. Max, who'd come over to your grandmother's home when she was alive more times than you could count and sat at the table with you, trying his upmost to make you laugh. Max, who you had come to think of as another brother you could count on.

It wasn't odd that he was coming with Ez. The only odd thing was how your brother had laughed in your face when you told him all the things that Din was calling you and doing for you.

Wait… did Din carry me to bed?

Your cheeks warm with a blush. It didn’t seem too far fetched, given that Din was getting more comfortable hugging you and holding your hand, but the thought still warmed your heart. That Din had cared enough to make sure you were safe in your bed and tucked you in.

Isn't that what he wanted though? For me to live here so he wouldn’t have to worry about me being safe in the city?

It was the kind of man you knew him to be. Din was kind, caring, thoughtful- he wasn't the beast or the monster that the people of Nevarro thought, especially not around you. Sure, he was rough around the edges, shy, quiet, but you loved him. You loved the man he was when he was with you. You could see past the wrought metal and leather and see his heart, and to you that was the most important thing.

Other people might have focused on the fact that you'd never seen his face, didn't know what he looked like- but you didn't care about that. You fell in love with the man he is, the way he takes care of Grogu and you, the way he always listens to you, and the way he protects you.

But the hard part was finding the courage to tell him.

You get out of bed and grab the flowers before creeping out into the hallway. The rest of the house is silent. The sunlight weaving through the windows in the living room and kitchen to bring a warmth and comfort to the space that you haven't felt since you left your grandmother's home.

It felt like home here. Being with Din and Grogu was home. And it scared you to think that Din didn’t want the same thing, because you knew that you'd be able to stay here if he didn't. It would be too awkward, especially in such a small space.

The thought of having the conversation with him and Din rejecting your love plagued you. You didn't know what to do if he said no. Din and Grogu were the only two people on Nevarro that you cared about. And the thought that it would be so awkward whenever he came by to the shop made anxiety twist your stomach into knots.

You cast a look down the dark hallway towards Din's closed door, biting the inside of your cheek.

We can talk after he wakes up.

Jax was opening this morning because you wanted to try and unpack more of the boxes in your room, so you didn't need to go in early, and you were sure that Din would want to walk you there when he got up.

And before your mind begins to wander, you decide to busy yourself with making breakfast.

Din and you had bought groceries and a few more odds and ends that you needed for the kitchen yesterday morning. Din had paid for everything, despite your numerous attempts to swat away his hand full of credits. The people in town were too afraid to refuse him, but you had no qualms about trying to muscle his body out of the way so you could pay. It had made Din laugh at you each time you tried to beat him to the punch, the sound of his chuckle through his helmet making your body feel like it was slowly being swallowed by a volcano.

Stars, you wanted more. You wanted to hear the real cadance of his laugh, hear the rough rumble of his voice unhindered by the helmet. The same sound you'd heard sporadically this week when you ate together a few times in his home, with a blindfold over your eyes.

That was going to take a little getting used to. Eating together, but not really being able to see your plate or your fork. It only made you think about what Din told you about what being his wife would look like, to see all of him, to have all of him the way you'd wanted for so long.

It's not going to happen. You're so far in the friendzone you might as well be hugging Nevarro's molten core.

The methodical measuring of the coffee grounds, the sharp crack of eggs against the side of a bowl, the sizzle of bacon in  the pan all distract you from the spiral that your mind has begun to travel down thinking about what Din and you would talk about when he woke up.

But not much.

Just be normal, n-o-r-m-a-l.

You chide yourself.

I can do that. I can tell him that I love him and that nothing is the same without him and that it hurts to be away from him and I want to be more to him than just friends and I want to take care of him for the rest of his life and ruin our friendship and leave his home in shame when he laughs in my face.

You didn't really think that he'd laugh in your face per se. More that he'd phase you out, even longer pauses, turning away from you whenever he spoke, making you move out-

The lump in your throat reforms with the thought.

Don't think about it right now

You sigh out a breath and shuffle the bacon in the skillet, flipping over the thick slices that crisp before your very eyes. And just as you begin to transfer them to a plate, you hear a ship outside landing.

Guess Ez and Max are here.

A part of you is upset that they're here. You knew that all it would do is push back the conversation that you wanted to have with Din, because like hell Din was going to have a conversation about what you meant to him or what was going on between the two of you in front of other people.

It had taken him forever to actually talk to you! Not to mention you weren't sure why Ez had really come or how he would treat Din. The last time certainly wasn't anything to write home about, and Ez obviously still thought that Din was a total jerk, given what he'd said about him when you called him yesterday. Then again you weren't really sure that Din thought the world of your brother given the odd way he'd reacted two weeks ago when Ez visited.

Maybe this time it'll be better.

But somewhere deep down doubt begin to stir.

The reason why Ez was here, his reactions to finding out what Din was calling you, the gifts, you moving into Din's home, was weird to say the least. You don't know why any of that would be funny.

You make your way to the front of the cabin, adjust the soft cardigan around your shoulders, pull at the end of your shirt, and take a deep breath before you open the door.

Ez and Max are walking down the shiny ramp that descends from their ship, sans helmets as per usual, but wearing their Mandalorian armor. Both of them opted to paint them in shades of red and orange, the sigil of their clan embossed across their chests in a starting white, something that looked like the winged creatures that dwelt along the cliffs on their home planet. The same cliffs that each child that walked the path of the Mandalore had to scale by themselves barehanded when they came of age and bring back the head of the winged creatures to earn their place.

When Ez called to proudly tell you what he and Max had done to earn them you'd been horrified. Especially because the creatures were three times the size of a Mudhorn and were known for dismembering people to feed to their hatchlings while their victims were still alive.

Your brother smiles wide, shouting your name over the wind that surges up and rustles through your hair playfully, sending dust swirling across the plains towards the formidable mountains in the distance. The sun brings a pleasant warmth over your body as you step out from under Din's porch mirroring your brother's smile.

"Baby sis!" He grabs you around the waist in a bear hug, smooshing your body against the front of his armor.

"Can't breathe-" You gasp dramatically as he squeezes you tighter.

Ez drops you with a chuckle as the wind shuffles through his thick hair with a heavy hand, pulling a few strands from the bun at the nape of his neck. "Did you miss me?"

"Nope." You turn and smile widely at the man standing behind your brother. "But I did miss Max!"

Max looks better than he did the last time you saw him. His blonde hair curled over his shoulders turning the strands gold in the warm sunlight, the perfectly trimmed beard that frames his face a few shades darker than the hair on his head. His brilliant blue eyes shimmer like two iridescent pools and crinkle around the edges as he smiles revealing perfectly straight teeth.

The last time you'd seen him was months ago when you went to stay with your brother following your grandmother's death. Max knew how upset you were when she passed, and he'd spent days trying his upmost to cheer you up.

He mirrors your enthusiasm, shouting your name just as loud as you had shouted his, grabbing you around the waist and spinning you in a circle. Your cardigan billows out behind you with the movement as a giggle passes through your lips.

 "I missed you." Max's voice is soft as he moves his hand up to cup your cheek, brushing his thumb over the smooth skin of your cheekbone. "You're even more beautiful than the last time I saw you."

His brilliant blue eyes search your face, strands of his gilded hair falling forward to frame his strong jaw.

"Max-" You begin to say, blushing bright red in embarrassment. He had never said anything like that to you before. "Shut up." You roll your eyes at him and slap him playfully on the shoulder- something that hurts a little bit due to the Beskar.

But instead of pulling back or laughing, Max threads his fingers in your hair at the nape of your neck and closes the distance between the two of you so fast that you don't have time to think.

Everything about the kiss feels wrong, the press of his lips against yours, the brush of his beard against the delicate skin of your cheeks, the soft sigh he makes as he tries to deepen it, and the smell of his skin as you inhale in surprise.

It was shocking.

You'd never seen Max as more than a friend, not once in your life. In fact, the last time the two of you saw each other Max had specifically called you "the sister he never wanted, but was stuck with."

Not to mention you knew that he didn't have feelings for you because you'd given him some advice on how to catch the attention of a woman back on his planet that he'd been in love with forever.

So why is he doing this?

You don't have long to contemplate that question, because something or rather someone, rushes past you and plows into Max so fast that it makes your head spin.

Din and Max land in the mud, Din's body pinning Max to the ground, as dirt flies through the air around them.

You hadn't heard the front door open. Hadn't known that the second Din heard your door open and you walk down the hallway that he'd woken up trained to wake from the smallest sound. Hadn't known that Din had been agonizing over going in the kitchen and trying to find the courage to tell you how he felt, to tell you the one thing that he'd been trying to tell you since the moment he met you. Hadn't seen Din standing in the shadow of the porch when you hugged your brother.

Ez snorts a laugh, watching the two Mandalorians rolling around in the mud. "Guess I lose."

"Lose what? Din get off of him!" You shout trying to find your footing as you take a step towards Din and Max, but the mud is slippery and you stumble into your brother where he still shakes with laughter.

"Max bet me two seconds. I bet seven."

"For what? Din please!" You yell as Din throws a punch into Max's face, but Max only laughs and rolls Din over in the mud. Both Mandalorians are covered in dirt, the silver of Din's beskar splashed with brown murk, as the solid slap of their bodies against the earth fills the air.

What the hell is going on?

"For Din to punch him." Ez shrugs. He doesn't look the least bit perturbed by the scene happening in front of him.

"What? Why would you bet that?"

"Max he's had enough." Ez says ignoring your question, while Max pins Din's arms in the dirt above his head.

"I don't think he has-" Max begins, his hair sticking to his face in a brown mat, but then Din kicks up with his knee and rolls back on top of him.

You can't help but feel a little proud of your Mandalorian for that move. Din was one of the best warriors that you'd ever met, but it didn't make you worry about him any less.

No stop it! He's not my Mandalorian. Din only sees me as a friend. Then why did he react that way when Max kissed me?

The thought makes you hesitate for a moment.

Why did he react that way? He tackled Max, he pushed him away from me. That's not exactly a normal reaction.

It wasn't in the slightest. But the moment that Max pressed his lips to yours, all Din had seen was red. The rage and jealousy that flooded through his entire body the second another man kissed you made Din feel like he was being ripped and torn apart. Din had been hurt many times in his life, the scars that remained from encounters all over the galaxy and stood out against his honeyed skin was a testament to that, but seeing Max kiss you hurt him more than any of those wounds combined.

Din grits his teeth, hand curling into a fist as another wave of rage and frustration crashes over him and he throws a punch into Max’s face.  Any Mandalorian would have known that you belonged to Din, the sigil that hung around your neck was proof of that. You were his. And Max had not only disrespected you, he had disrespected Din.

And Din was going to make him pay for touching you.

"Din please stop." You shout as you take a slippery step forward towards Din, reaching out for his shoulder to steady yourself, but you miscalculate and your whole body crashes into him, pushing him off of Max and tumbling back into the mud with you on top of his chest.

Din's gloved hands go around your waist as you tumble, taking the full brunt of the fall against his back with a loud grunt. You're laying on top of him, the sharp points of his metal armor sticking uncomfortably into the soft curves of your body, surely leaving behind bruises.

Ez helps Max to his feet, patting him on the back once, both of them sprouting matching grins as they look at where you and Din are locked in an intimate embrace.

"Are you gonna tell her what cyare really means Din?" Ez crows with another laugh, glimmering with mirth. "Or maybe cyar'ika?"

Din's body stiffens beneath yours, hands tightening on your waist, as his helmet turns to look up at you. A wave of shame and embarrassment crashes over you. You hadn't expected your brother to show up here and do something like this. Yes, Ez didn't take things seriously, but you didn't think that he would intentionally hurt Din…

Would he?

But the feeling of Din's gaze on you doesn't bring its usual warmth, instead it makes your body go cold, and makes you turn your eyes away from him. You hadn't meant for something like this to happen. All you'd wanted was for Din and you to talk about this.

Not for Ez and Max to come here and do this!

What have I done?

"Or maybe why you gave her your sigil?" Max snorts, gesturing to the pendant that hangs between the two of your bodies, glinting a brilliant silver in the morning sun.

Din pushes you off of him gently into the space beside him, but you can feel the tenseness of his body as he rises to his feet. He doesn't slide in the mud as he walks into the house, spine stock straight refusing to look back. Grogu waits for him on the porch, cooing in confusion at his father's obvious anger and frustration, reaching up for him, but Din stalks past slamming the door loud enough to make you flinch.

You rise to your feet successfully without falling back into the mud, and plant your hands on your hips. "Why the hell did you do that?" You shout at Max who looks pleased with himself.

"You're mad at me?" He puts a hand to his chest as if he's done nothing wrong

"Yes! You embarrassed him. You didn't have to come all this way and-"

"Don't be mad at Max it was my idea." Ez says. "But you shouldn't be mad at us at all."

"Why not?" You snap.

"He's been calling you his beloved." Ez laughs. "If anything be mad at him for lying to you."

"His what?" You sputter in shock.

Wait a minute. Din's been calling me his beloved? That can't be right it's-

"Cyare doesn't mean friend it means 'beloved'." Max shakes a hand through his muddy hair, pushing it back from his face, but still smiling at you. "When he started bringing you back gifts is probably when he started courting you."

"Courting me? But-then-what?" No words make sense, no thoughts correctly process in your head, because this entire time Din had feelings for you, real feelings that he kept to himself.

But why didn't he tell me? Why did he keep making me think that I was his friend? Why didn't he-

"And as for the necklace-" Ez gestures to the pendant. "That was probably when he proposed."

"Proposed?" Your mouth goes completely dry. "He pro-posed? He didn't propose, he just gave it to me."

"Did he say anything about you 'accepting' it?" Max raises an eyebrow.

"No he-" You stop, remembering how nervous he was when you said that you couldn't accept it. When you told him that it was too much and he should spend the money on Grogu instead and he said that he wanted to get you something.

Oh holy mother of margarine, Din proposed to me? Why didn't he say anything? I would have said yes so fast it would have made hyperspeed look like a stroll in the park!

"As for the moving in," Ez gestures back to the house. "Pretty sure you get the picture."

But he- he. You try to reason inside of your head, mind beginning to spiral down, down, down the winding staircase into madness. He said he just wanted me to be safe, that he wanted to make sure that I was okay, and-

Another thought bobs to the surface.

Did he ask me to move in because he thought that we were married?

Your cheeks warm with the promise of what marriage meant. The memory of what Din said being married to him would be like, the thought that you’d be able to see Din, all of him, the very thing that kept you up at night.

But still why did he lie about that? Did he think I would say no? That I wouldn't want to be with him?

Grogu stumbles through the mud towards you, little feet squishing down into the muck. You pick him up. He babbles, pointing back at the house, asking you about Din.

"It's okay." You shush him, gently, rubbing his ears while he looks at you with confusion. He didn't understand why his father was acting that way, ignoring him, and stomping into the house.

Honestly everything you thought you knew was crashing down around you as well, so you weren't sure how to comfort Grogu when you thought you were going insane.

"Come on, aren't you gonna go see your husband?" Max snorts wiggling his eyebrows. "He might want to make up."

"Shut up." You snap, eyes narrowed.

Both Max and Ez stop laughing, smiles dropping into shocked frowns. They weren't used to you being so angry. It was an emotion that you did not express often, you hated being angry, and  it took a lot for you to lose it. The last time had been when Mrs. Cross had said those things about Din in front of you and you ripped her a new one. But both of them knew that if you were mad, they had messed up big time.

And you were about to make what you said to Ms. Cross look like a toddler kicking over a tower of blocks compared to what you were going to say to Ez and Max.

"How could you do that? Why? He's-" Your jaw clenches together in anger and frustration. "He's so guarded, he never lets himself be vulnerable and you two idiots hurt him. You didn't have to taunt him that way! I didn't ask you to come here and act like two uncultured Wampas! Din has been a good friend to me in all the time I've lived here, he's protected me, he's been here for me, and he's cared for me. He didn't deserve any of what just happened!"

Ez sighs your name.

"I'm not finished!" You snap. "What you did is unforgivable. You think this is funny? Din saved my life. He is the most selfless person I've ever met and you two come out here bumbling around like a rancor on a speeder thinking that you can just take advantage of what I told you and make a joke out of it!? Din is my friend. This is my life you're screwing with!"

"We didn't mean to do that, honestly." Max breathes hanging his head slightly.

"And I- I-." You stutter. "I care about him more than I've cared about anyone."

"Then you should tell him, he obviously likes you." Ez tries again with a sheepish smile. "Come on we can-"

"No. I want you two to leave." You say, turning towards the house with Grogu staring over your shoulder at them.

"What?" Ez blinks in confusion. You'd never done anything like this to him before, never kicked him out. He knew that you loved whenever he visited, looked forward to it, but this was different. The two of you had never had a fight before, not when he was usually the one who lost his temper and you were the one there with treats to smooth things over.

"I want you two to leave." You repeat, not turning. "You've done enough"

They had and you weren't sure how to fix any of this. Because now it wasn't just a matter of Din and you talking about what 'this' was between the two of you, it was about what your brother had done and about why Din had lied. Things had spiraled out of control so fast, and you didn't know how to reign it in.

"But-"

You don't stop walking, and you don't want to listen to anything Max or your brother has to say. "And don't bother coming back unless you've come to apologize."

"Wait" Ez tries to say, but you slam the door behind you living in the uncomfortable silence of your new home.

The light that brought warmth through the house when you woke this morning does little to stop the chill of the events outside.

Din isn't in the kitchen or in the living room, but a trail of muddy footprints leads further into the house and down the hallway, cutting off as soon as you reach his bedroom door.

You stand outside for a minute thinking of what to say.

How do I- Should I be angry at him that he didn't tell me? Hurt that he didn't want to tell me? Upset that he lied?

Shock was still rattling your brain around in your head with what Ez and Max had told you. Everything felt like a lie now. Din had been calling you 'cyare' since you'd said those things to Mrs. Cross months ago, been bringing you gifts since the day he killed the Transdoshan for you.

You were still embarrassed and ashamed by what had happened outside, and you were sure that Din may have been feeling something similar, but it did little to stop the unease that prickled beneath your skin when you thought about how Din lied to you about what 'cyare' meant. You supposed that you had hidden your feelings too, but you'd never outright lied to Din about them. And you certainly hadn't proposed to Din secretly.

The pendant burns a hole through your chest where it rests between your collarbones, the weight of it around your neck suddenly like a twenty pound dumbbell.

Din was shy. You knew that. You knew him. But you wished he had told you, wished that he hadn't kept this big secret from you, because then the two of you could have avoided this entire situation!

You raise your hand to knock. "Din?"

He doesn't answer.

"Din I know you're in there, please open the door."

"I don't feel like talking right now." You hear his response, it's sharp and cuts deep, the same tone he had that day in the street when you brother visited.

Another thing he lied about, because he was jealous when he saw Ez and me.

Judging by the cadence of his voice you could tell that Din wasn't wearing his helmet.

"I don't know why they felt the need to come here and do that but I'm sorry." You sigh holding Grogu closer to your body. "Please talk to me. I want to talk about this. All of this-"

The door opens so suddenly that you think you imagined it for a moment, the space beyond suddenly filling with Din's formidable figure. Din is still covered in mud from head to toe, now wearing his helmet, but looks just as intimidating as he usually does.

"Why did you tell them that?" His voice sounds garbled through the helmet, but you can sense his hurt.

The shame rises like bile into the back of your throat, stomach knotting all over again.

"I was confused. I still am confused. I-"

Din doesn't let you finish.

"I told you that we would discuss it when I got home." His teeth are gritted together, the sound of his voice a low growl. "You did not need to bring your brother and that Mandalorian into this." Din spits 'that Mandalorian' as if it's a curse. "Do you have any idea what it did to me to see him touch you? To see him kiss you?" Din roars.

Your throat grows unnaturally tight, the shame was back, but instead of it surging up, anger bites at the tip of your tongue first.

"No, I don't!" You shout, eyes burning with tears.

Din's body goes tense in surprise, he hadn't been expecting you to be mad, but you were. You were so frustrated about this whole situation and angry with him for lying to you, and upset that this was the way it all came out.

"Because you didn't explain any of this to me! You just kept it to yourself, never said a word, and lied to me about all of this!"

Frustrated tears crest and fall down your cheeks, and your voice cracks, but you can't stop.

"I can't believe that this whole time you lied to me about this! That you would-" You shake your head unable to stop the emotions from building in the back of your throat. You wipe at your face with your free hand while Grogu, coos softly against your chest, raising his little three fingered claw to your chin.

Din mutters your name, but you don't let him talk.

"Damn it Din, I don't understand why you would keep all of this from me! You made me think that you just wanted to be friends and I spent weeks agonizing over telling you how I felt, trying not to be discouraged when I thought you were calling me your friend and pushing me away, when the whole time I wanted to tell you that I love you!" The words come out in a rush, like word vomit, but you can't keep them in anymore. Not when you're done with all of this, embarrassed about what happened outside, and angry with Din.

And maybe you know that you shouldn't be, that Din was Din, and it was often like trying to Heimlich him to get him to talk, but you felt humiliated, embarrassed that it was your brother and his best friend of all people who had to explain this to you, explain how Din felt about you. It made you feel like a little kid who didn't understand how sex worked until one day your parents sat down with you and had the talk.

Din doesn't move, in fact he can't really breathe, not when you've just said the three little words that he'd been so desperate to tell you since the moment he met you. The same ones that got stuck in his throat whenever he tried to say them aloud. The same ones that Din didn't truly believe that you'd ever say to him.

He hated that Max had kissed you, had placed his lips on yours, defiled you that way. You were his, but Din just couldn't find the courage to tell you what those words meant. You were so different than him, with an easy smile that warmed his heart, and a soft laugh that made him smile. He didn't want to scare you away, didn't want you to fear him the way others did. He wanted you here with him all the time.

Din had never wanted to break his code for anyone before, even for Omera who wished for him to remain with her, but for you he would do anything.

But he didn't court you just so that he didn't have to break the code, he tried to court you because you were unlike any other person he had ever met. The way you smiled at him was so open and vulnerable that each time he felt something deep down break open. Your easy nature and ability to speak to everyone who passed you in the market made him smile.

And Din loved that you took care of him. He wasn't used to that. You always baked him treats and sent him on his way with enough food to feed him and Grogu several times over whenever he went off planet for a bounty. You made him feel loved, more loved than he'd ever felt. You cared about him. He could see it in the way you looked at him, the soft touches on his arm to catch his attention, the gentle squeeze of your hand in his when you asked him a question, the subtle tilt of your head in his direction when you believed he wasn't looking, and in the way that you were always there to listen to him.

You stand there for a second in the silence, breath trembling, the echo of your words still in the air between the two of you, waiting for Din to say something, anything, but he doesn't. Oblivious to the plethora of emotions ricocheting in Din's head.

I told him I love him and he said absolutely nothing. Can this day get any worse?

"Din?" Cara knocks on the front door, before opening it with a loud creak. She spots the two of you. "Oh hey. I was just stopping by because Din told me he'd help me with-"

And there it is.

You don't really hear what she says, the anger and frustration beating against your ribcage was louder than the sound of her voice.  Because right on time Din was going to get another excuse to leave you waiting. To make you suffer in silence and wait for him to have another talk that got the two of you absolutely nowhere. And you were so tired of it.

"Oh good." You clip your words, clearing your throat, but the burn of your tears is still there. You take a step back from Din and adjust Grogu in your arms. "You guys have fun."

"Wait-" Din says.

"There's breakfast on the stove." You begin to move down the hallway in the direction of your bedroom, heartbreak and frustration dueling in your chest, but Din's hand comes out and grabs your wrist.

His grip isn't tight, doesn’t hurt, but it's enough to make you stop and stare up at him with wide eyes. Din plucks Grogu from your arms with his free hand, the other still fastened on your wrist to keep you where you are,  and hands Grogu to Cara, who looks confused.

"I can't help you today." Din says, but his helmet doesn’t turn in her direction, it stays centered on you. "I'm sorry. But can you watch the kid?”

"Um-" She looks from Din to you. Her eyes trace the tear streaks on your face, something softening in her gaze that looks like understanding. "Sure."

"Thanks."

She backs out of the house slowly, still a little unsure of what's going on, but understanding enough to know that Din and you need to be left alone.

Din gently leads you to his room.

His bedroom is similar to yours, holds only a dark wooden wardrobe, a matching bedside table, a few shelves bolted to the walls, a large bed that's still unmade with the white sheets and hole-ridden blanket scrunched at the end of one side, the walls are painted the same cream colored shade as the rest of the house, but there's no mirror. That makes sense to you, Din didn't exactly have to check his hair before he left.

Your eyes trace over the bed, as Din shuts his bedroom door, and your throat tightens. It was one thing to be in Din's living room with him alone, but a completely other universe to be standing in the darkened shadows of his bedroom, enveloped with the scent that you'd ascribed to Din since the first moment he came into your shop looking for Grogu.

The strong smell of oiled leather, metal, gunpowder, and something spicy that tickles the tip of your nose and can never put a name to. It always brought comfort, but now there's another sensation crackling through your body, an energy that pulses and thrums through the space between where you stand and where Din hovers by the door.

Your confession still rings heavy in your ears, made worse by Din's silence, the tears on your face drawing patterns along  the soft skin of your cheeks.

"I don't know how to-" Din bows his head, the rest of his sentence dying in the back of his throat.

"Why did you lie?" You breathe as you cross your arms over your chest.

Din doesn't answer.

The silence in the room is fraught with tension pulled so tight you think that something will snap. You're trying to be patient with him, but there's still a little part of you that's hurt he lied about something so important.

"Because I didn't think that you'd ever want me the way I want you." His voice is no more than a whisper, the words buzzing through the modulator of his helmet. Din's helmet is turned towards the ground away from you, as if he's ashamed.

Fresh tears build in your eyes with his confession, your heart breaking for him. You hated that he felt that way. That even after all the time you spent together, Din didn't believe that you would stay when everyone else left.

"Why would you think that?" You take a step closer to him and grab his hand, entwining your fingertips together, the anger you felt moments ago long gone.

Din's helmet turns to look at your hand in his. It looks small. Everything about Din was big compared to you, and you loved that. It made it all the more sweeter when you found yourself in his arms.

"You're nothing like me." Din raises his head and you can feel his gaze on you. His freehand comes to cup your cheek, trailing warmth across your skin. "Whenever I walk down the road everyone crosses to avoid me. No one goes out of their way to speak to me, not the way you do. You're kind. You make people smile and laugh, and you always find something to smile about. You're always ready to help someone else, to bake something, or make something without anyone giving you anything in return.  I've never met someone so eager to help, so ready to sacrifice so much just to make sure someone else is happy. You're this one bright spot, someone who shouldn't exist in a galaxy like this let alone on Nevarro and a light that I'm so scared I'm going to put out because you deserve better. You shouldn't want me-"

"Why not?" You squeeze his hand.

"I'm not a good person." Din bows his head again, but he does not release your cheek. "I don't deserve this. I don't deserve you. Not after everything I've done. I've tried to walk away so many times, tried to keep my distance-"

You reach up to hold the left side of his helmet, finding the familiar indention to raise his head so that he's looking at you again. "I don't want you to walk away."

"You don't know what I've done." He shakes his head.

"Then tell me." You tilt his head downward against yours. Din sighs as the metal rests against your forehead, fogging slightly against the warmth of your skin. "Ever since the day we met you've kept those pieces of your life separate from me, but I want to know. I want to know each dark secret, every haunting memory, the story behind every scar, every wonder that you've seen- I want you to show me the darkest parts and let me love you anyway."

"You won't."

"You don't know that." You breathe while staring up into the t-shaped visor of his helmet, searching for his gaze. "I could say the same thing about me, Din."

"What?" His thumb softly traces over your cheek.

"Why would you want someone like me? I'm nothing like you or Cara." You half-smile and wish that you could touch him for real, wish that you could trace the plains of his face, kiss the frown you can sense away. You wanted to bring him comfort, wanted to show him that you didn't care about the man he thought he was, that you only cared about the man you knew him to be. "I don't know how to fight or protect myself. I don't know how to shoot a gun. I'm not intimidating at all. The only thing I know how to do is bake things. I'm just me."

"I love those things about you. I love that you're soft." Din murmurs. "That you take care of me in a way that no one ever has. You make Grogu and I feel loved-" His voice cracks a little bit on that word. "I haven't felt that, not in such a long time. You're not 'just anything', you're my Cyare. Without you there is nothing but the still silence of space. Without you there is no life and no light. But with you there are stars, suns, and planets that bask in your light as I wish to each day. I am nothing without you."

You gasp softly, your heart fluttering in your chest as heat rises in your chest like the sun over the peaks of the distant mountains. Because Din loved you, all of you, just the way you always wanted him to.

“You make me feel loved too.” You whisper. “You protect me, make me feel safe, take care of me, and listen whenever I talk. Other people may not see how gentle and caring you are, but I do. I love seeing that side of you, when you hold my hand and walk with me or when you help me shop in the market. I know you're afraid because you think that you don't deserve love, but I-“ You swallow the lump in your throat, preparing yourself to say the next words for the second time. “I love you Din. Please let me."

His helmet presses harder against your forehead with the confession, the hand clasped between your two bodies releasing your hand to wrap around your waist and pull your body tight into his chest. "I love you too." The words are measured, each one buzzing in the helmet, but still make you feel like your body is catching fire one cell at a time.

You smile so wide it hurts, and you can feel the same smile mirrored on Din's face within his helm, but it does little to satisfy the need you have to see it.

"Din?"

"Hmm?" He sighs, holding you tighter against him.

“Were you asking me to marry you when you gave me this?”  You reach for the pendant at your throat.

“Yes.”

“And when I took it I was saying yes?”

“You were accepting my courtship.” Din whispers.

“Is that why you punched Max? Because-“

“Because you are my cyare. He should have known that the moment he saw the pendant. He had no right to touch you, let alone kiss you.” Din almost growls. His arm tightens around your waist for emphasis and it makes a shiver go down your spine. But he loosens his grip a fraction when he hears your gasp, afraid that he's said too much. “Perhaps I should not be so-“

“No.” You whisper looking up into the helmet, cheeks warming. “I am yours.”’

Din sighs out a happy sound and drops his forehead into your shoulder. “Yes.” The arm he has around your waist doesn't  move, in fact, Din's entire body seems to slump down against you, the weight of his body wrapped around you like a warm blanket, as he relaxes into you.

“How would we get married?” You ask him, trailing your hands up his back, not wanting to let him go for a second.

You feel Din's entire body go tense in your arms.

Should I not have asked him that? Was that wrong?

"We would exchange a vow."

"What's the vow?"

Din raises his head from your shoulder leaning back so his helmet is tilted towards you once more. You blink up at him, waiting for him to answer you. “We are one when we are together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors.”

You listen to each statement, the words rolling over in your head, the weight of them settling in your chest. It was more than what you'd expected, but in the severity of the sentences, there was something else. Now you understood when Din said his riduur would be the other half of him, because he would not be one without her.

Without me.

The thought makes your cheeks heat and a warm feeling travel down the length of your spine. Din wanted you, wanted to marry you, loved you, and you couldn't help but think that any moment you would wake up from a dream. But this was real. And it was exactly how you felt whenever Din wasn't with you. It felt like a piece of yourself was missing, and whenever he came back you were whole again.

“And if I say it we're married?”

“Yes.”

“Will I get to see your face?”  You ask, smiling shyly.

It was all you wanted. You wanted all of Din, to hold his face in the palms of your hands, to trace the criss-cross of scars over his sun-kissed skin, and to hear the warm cadence of his voice in your ear while he held you in his arms.

He swallows. “Yes.”

“Will you say it with me?" Your hands rest against the cool metal of his chest plate, looking up at the reflection of yourself in the polished metal of his helm. "In Mando’a?”

“We don't have to." Din shakes his head. "Not now-"

Din didn't want to force you to do it now, not even when he was fighting every instinct he had not to rip his helmet off and kiss you.

Stars he wanted to. He hated that the last person you kissed was Max. Din wanted to kiss you so hard that you forgot all about that golden-haired jerk outside. Wanted to take you to bed and make you forget all about everything else but him. But he was hesitant. You'd never seen what he looked like. How could you love him?

“I want to. I want you Din. I don’t want anyone else.” 

“Are you sure? You’ve never seen my face.” He mutters.

“I’ve seen your heart.” You take his helmeted head between the palms of your hands gently, leaning it down against your forehead once more. “And that is enough for me Din. I love you. Every part of you. Even the parts you try to hide from me."

He sighs again, but leans into you, his eyes searching your face for any hesitancy. He won't find any. You didn't care that you'd never seen what he looked like, you loved Din for the man he was. There was no doubt in your mind, no fear, nothing, just Din.

Din says the vow in Mando’a slowly so you can grasp the words and repeat it back the best you can, smiling up at him all the while, because now Din was yours and you couldn't think of anything more wonderful.

A few moments of silence pass in the wake of the exchange of the vow, a nervous energy buzzing in the pit of your stomach.

“Ner riduur.” Din murmurs tracing your face with his fingertips. "is mesh'la."

You look up at him in confusion at his use of the word.

"Beautiful." He amends, the smile in his voice evident. You could hear his voice cracking just a little bit, as if Din was just as excited and happy as you were and it made your cheeks heat and your heart soar.

"C-can I-" You stumble slightly, still holding his helmet between your hands not wanting to remove it if he didn't want you to.

Din felt like his own heart was going to explode from his chest given how fast it was beating. He couldn't believe that you'd accepted him, that you wanted him, that you had held his face in your hands and said those things to him without a waver in your voice, smiling softly at him the way that always made him feel like his legs would give out. He didn't believe that someone like you would have wanted him a fraction of the way he wanted you, but here you were.

You were his riduur now, but there was still a part of Din that was nervous. You'd said the vow without knowing what he looked like and he was afraid that you would be disappointed by what you found beneath.

"I might not be as handsome as other people." Din mutters, his head tilts down away from you, but his hands find your wrists resting lightly against them. "Max is- he's more-" He trails off, but you know what he's thinking.

A flash of Max's perfectly tan skin, golden blond hair, and startling blue eyes flickers across your mind with the mention of his name. But it does nothing for you. You didn't love Max, didn't feel anything towards him the way you felt about Din. Max was your friend, but Din was- Din was your everything.

You feel tears gather in your eyes when Din says that, heart breaking for the man you love. You hated that he felt so little about himself. And you make a promise to yourself right then and there to spend the rest of your life making him see what you did.

"Din?"

"Yeah?"

"Please look at me." You whisper, gently raising his helmeted head so you can look into his visor.

His hands tighten slightly on your wrists with the movement, but you know his gaze is on you now.

"You are my husband, the other half of me. I am not whole without you."

"But-"

"No." You shake you head. "I may not have seen your face, but I've seen your kindness, your strength, your will, your care, and your selflessness." With each of these affirmations you press a kiss to where his nose, his cheeks, his forehead, his chin, and his jaw would be beneath the helmet. "I don't care what you look like, because I love you. I don't want Max, I never have. And even if it takes me the rest of my life to prove to you how special you are to me, and how much I love you, then so be it. Because I only want you, Din."

Din felt his throat tighten. You were looking at him again the way that made he feel like you could see through him, as if you could see past the metal and leather and into him. See him in a way that no one else had ever cared to.

He nods once.

The anxious energy is back thrumming through your veins as you slowly lift the metal helm from his head all the while fighting the urge to shut your eyes, reminding yourself that Din is your husband now and there wasn't anything wrong with it. You place it reverently on the bedside table before turning back to Din.

The man standing in front of you has his eyes shut tightly. His dark wavy hair, thick and fluffy, flattened on one side while other strands stick up in the back. You smile and smooth them down with your fingertips, earning a deep sigh that rumbles up through the man's chest.

But he still doesn’t look at you.

You gently take his chin in your hand and raise his face to get a better view, a gasp finding it's way through your parted lips when you look at him.

Because he's beautiful. Din Djarin is one of the most beautiful men you'd ever seen even with his eyes closed. You trace the planes of his face, memorizing the proud hook of his nose, the arch of his brow, the strength of his jaw and the stubble that covers it, the fullness of his bottom lip, and the tickle of his mustache against the tip of your fingers. Fulfilling the wish you'd wanted since the moment he came into your shop.

Din sighs again, this time leaning forward into your touch as if he can't help himself, wrapping one arm around your waist once more to bring you into him.

I can't believe this beautiful man is all mine.

"Din?"

"Hmm." He says, not opening his eyes.

"Riduur." You kiss him softly along his jaw, his scruff scratching against your lips pleasantly. "Please open your eyes and look at me."

His eyes blink open and it takes your breath away. They are dark brown, the color of fresh brewed coffee, and search your face, something brightening within as they do.

Has he always looked at me like this? All these months that I've known him? These are the eyes underneath the helmet that have kept a careful watch over me, made sure I was safe?

"There you are." You smile wider, cupping his cheeks happily.

"Are you disappointed?" Din whispers, mouth turning down into a frown.

Even in a whisper the real cadence of his voice is enough to make your legs feel like jelly, and coupled with the deep brown of his eyes you knew for a fact that you were going to wake up from this dream at any moment.

"Yes. I am.” You murmur back with a smile. “I am incredibly disappointed that you decide to hide in that helmet. Because damn it Din, you are the most beautiful man I've ever seen in my life."

He blushes, face turning a dusky red beneath your scrutiny, and it makes you love him even more.

"My riduur is mesh'la." You coo using the compliment he gave you moments ago while kissing along his cheeks cheeks and making his blush darken.

"I think my riduur is mesh'la too." He whispers, gently brushing your hair back from your face and it’s your turn to blush.

Dins hand finds its way to the back of your head, pulling your face a few inches closer to his, while his eyes trace across your features looking for any sign of hesitation. A quirk of a brow, a twitch on the end of your lips, something that he could see that would show him you didn’t want him, but there’s nothing there. There’s only the smile you always had for him that made him feel like he was home, the twinkle in your eyes he only found in the starlight above, and the gentle smell of sugar and spice that seemed to follow you around whenever you went.

Kissing him is nothing like kissing Max. Not that you were comparing them, because kissing Din is like slowly inching closer and closer to a star. Heat travels from your lips to the tips of your toes and sets you on fire, as Din's mouth meets yours. His armor is hard and unyielding beneath the palms of your hands as you work them up his chest plate before they find solace in the dark tangle of his hair at the nape of his neck.

Din lets loose a low groan into your mouth, tightening the hands he has on your waist to pull you tighter against him, so tight that you're sure they'll be bruises marked along your body where the points of his armor met your soft skin, but you don't care. Nothing else matters. Not when you're slowly sinking into him, losing everything you are and gaining all of Din. Not when Din is kissing you like he never wants to stop and not when you're kissing him back like you never want him to.

His body pushes you backward and you're suddenly on his bed, the smell of him everywhere, soaking through the air like the heady scent of a thunderstorm before it hits. A gasp works it's way through where his lips meet yours as the weight of his body falls on top of yours.

"Are you alright?" Din's eyes open, pupils dilated, lips red and swollen, his hair sticking out in two directions.

"Yeah." You half-laugh, kissing him again. "Your armor is heavy."

"I'm sorry-" He smiles into your mouth, cheeks turning that dusky red color that you'll never get tired of.

You gently run your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, loving the way the strands fall through your fingertips. "It's okay. I mean you could- could um-" You swallow. "You could take it off?"

Din's body tenses above yours.

You had absolutely no expirence when it came to this. Hadn't had anyone in the past that meant anything as much as Din. So basically you had no "moves" whatsoever, and saying something like "take off your clothes right now" sounded ridiculous, and too aggressive.

But you weren't afraid, not of Din, not ever. You were more nervous.

"Or if you're not comfortable with that-" Your cheeks heat as you stumble through your next sentence. You were quickly realizing that maybe you shouldn't be worried about you, rather you should be worried about Din.

Maybe taking off his helmet was too much for him today. Maybe we're moving too fast... I mean, he's my husband at some point we'd have to-

"I can wait a little longer or a lot longer. As long as you need me to Din I-"

"I can't." Din growls into your mouth with a searing kiss as his hands follow the curves of your body, making your hands tighten at the back of his head and a gasp slip from your mouth. "And I think we've both waited long enough, don't you?" His brown eyes glimmer darkly with a promise that makes your body feel like jelly beneath him.

He's going to be the death of me... but what a way to go.

A/N: Well, it's been a bumpy miscommunication potholed filled road... but it's about time 🤣

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated! The comments really keep me going! If you'd liked to be added to my taglist for fics in this universe please let me know!

Taglist:

@jollyhunter @scoliobean @pressedwater @littlebear423 @bookloverkat

@scorpio-echo @windsweptarmadillo @foxin5billion @silas-aeiou

@mezzprior @st0nedbitch @elita1 @aegoniipascal @tiedyedghoulette

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[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@kirsteng42

Thank you so much!! This one was a wild ride- but I love clumsy/shy readers and I haven't found too many of those with Javi, so I wanted to try it out! But thank you so much for the reblog! 🥰💗

Worth The Risk

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: When you and your boss get stuck working late at the Embassy, a heated accident makes the two of you realize that maybe some things are worth the risk. Written for @zepskies 5K follower celebration!

Tropes: Little tiny bit of grumpy sunshine, Tiny bit of shy/awkward reader, Boss and Secretary Dynamic, Soft! Javier. Mutual Pining.

Word Count: 4.6K

Warnings: I'm labelling this one as 18+ (just in case)! Sexual situationish? Cursing, Super awkward situation, Make out session, References to sex (there's quite a bit), References to Javi being a tiny bit of a slut *said affectionately* (because we all love him for it), Loverboy! Javi, Accidental Handjob (I don't know what to call it)? Reader is kinda awkward, Reader has anxiety, Reader being a little bit self-deprecating? Reader has a bit of a developed backstory for the fic, Javier being a little bit self-deprecating? Javier might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is no use of y/n! I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite! I have never written for Javier before, so please, PLEASE be gentle.

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

A/N: Alright Alex, happy 5k! This one rolled out of me due to the very, VERY inspirational gif that you sent me (still can't look at it for too long without stroking out 🤣). I'll have to return the favor someday 😈 But to everyone else, this one is really just something silly that was living rent free in my head so enjoy!

There is something magical about rain.

The gentle patter against a rooftop like a soothing melody, the racing droplets down a window that you can trace with your fingertips, the distant rumble of thunder over the mountains shaking through the lush green forests, the heady smell of rain that comes moments before a downpour, the flash of lightning that captures the world in shades of black and white- it makes the rest of the world melt away, isolates you to one single place to bask in the enchanting sounds and beauty of it all.

Anything can happen in a thunderstorm.

Of course there are some things that are not magical about rain.

The feeling of the cold droplets slipping below your collar and trickling down your spine, the squish of your soaked socks and shoes when you step into a puddle that was a little deeper than you thought it was, the flash of lightning above your head that is a little too close for comfort followed the deep crack of thunder…

Or when you’re fighting for your life with a stubborn umbrella in a heavy downpour that won’t do the one job it was literally made for and you end up looking like a drowned rat by the time you get to where you were going, and you’re too embarrassed to go in so you just turn to take the walk of shame home, and end up running into your “so sexy it should be a crime” boss.

Not speaking from personal experience or anything…

The raging thunderstorm that pummeled and shook the American Embassy was trying it's best to rival the storm that Noah survived, and was also unfortunately keeping you from your warm bed past midnight on a Tuesday.

An umbrella would have been worthless at this point given that the rain seemed to be coming up from the ground and because your ancient Nova had refused to start this morning and you'd walked to work, you were stuck.

But you didn't mind staying late for one reason:

Javier Peña

The level of crush you had on your boss was shameful, but you hadn't meant for this to happen, honest! He was just, so, so…

Javier sighs where he sits at his desk, leaning back to prop his feet up on the strong metal table top while the muscles of his right arm strain against the sleeve of his orange button up, making your throat constrict.

Sexy.

Which yes, maybe it was a bit of a cliché, a secretary falling in love with her boss that was way out of her league in every single way, but you were.

Sure Javier had a reputation with women. Goodness knows you had heard every single scandalous whisper about his numerous escapades and seen every sultry look from the women who passed by the office hoping to catch a glimpse of your boss hard at work. The same women who told you how lucky you were to work with Javier and how jealous they were of you.

They didn't need to be. You knew for a fact that Javier didn't see you as more than just his secretary.

How you ask? Because of the way he treated you.

You'd seen Javier charming someone back to his apartment- the moves, the smirk, the mischievous glint in his whiskey colored eyes when he knew he had someone on the hook, and the low rumble of his chuckle that made you lose all feeling in your legs. You'd seen the same song and dance at every Christmas, New Years, and whatever other holiday that you were celebrating at the Embassy party.

But around you, Javier was a different man.

Yes he still had the same charm, but he was softer. He genuinely would ask you how your day was going whenever he walked by, listened to you whisper whatever gossip you picked up at the water cooler on the fifth floor or in the break room and laughed with you, suggested places to order lunch from where he knew you would find something too, walked with you to your car when it was late, and whenever he went out with Steve he always brought something back for you, whether it be a nice cup of well-needed coffee or a Cocada from your favorite bakery down the street.

He was a good boss. Anyone would be lucky to work with him.

Plus you'd seen the kind of women he was interested in and you weren't one of them. You weren't confident or outgoing. Sure you'd speak to your boss, Steve, and a few people around the office when you had to, but you were not okay with just striking up a conversation or joining a group mid-sentence because that was like a suicide mission. Plus being as clumsy as you were, you'd probably take a few steps towards the group then eat it on the musty carpets.

And you certainly didn't dress like any of them- well, some of them dressed for their profession and that was okay, but you definitely couldn't imagine wearing anything like that around the office.

Your wardrobe consisted of oversized sweaters, long flowy skirts, and soft dresses that draped rather than squeezed your boobs into submission and didn't prop them up to say "hello." But you wanted to be comfy at work because you were there so many hours during the day and you didn't think that you'd be able to breathe if you wore anything tight when you sat down.

That wasn't to say that you didn't "try" when you were at work, just that your sense of style was more… reserved than the women you saw Javier gravitate towards.

So basically you were trying to not be attracted to your boss, and after three years all your crush had done was triple in size and follow you around like a smelly water buffalo.

Javier sighs again, drawing your gaze up from the stack of notes you were organizing into chronological order for him. His eyes skate over to you, a weary smile twitching at the end of his lips before his attention drops back to the folder perched in his lap.

Everyone else had gone home for the night, and usually by now Javier would have gone too, but he had a meeting with Ambassador Noonan in the morning and was trying to prepare.

Maybe he needs some coffee.

You think to yourself as you rise from your cluttered desk making your way to the small break room two rooms down the corridor, not noticing the way Javier's eyes follow you.

He had told you to go home earlier, told you that he had this handled, but you refused. Javier didn’t understand why you wouldn't go, but he was happy you didn't, because it meant that he got to be with you for just a few more hours than normal. Got to hear your soft sigh as your shuffled through papers, got to see the way your face got that cute scrunch when you were concentrating, and got to smell the bright mist of your citrus perfume whenever you walked by. The same perfume that he had to stop himself from trying to gulp down from the air like a man dying of thirst in the dessert, because the way you smelled was like a drug to him. It made him feel like an addict of the worst kind.

And then also made him feel like the scummiest guy on the planet because he was your boss and shouldn't be having any of those thoughts about you, but he couldn't help it. Not when since the first day he met you, Javier felt his dead heart start to beat again. Not when being in the same room with you was like standing too close to the sun, blinded and filled with so much heat he thought it would all come pouring out of him like molten lava.

Javier Peña had it bad. Steve often teased him about it and Javi shrugged him off, but Javier knew in his heart that there wasn't much he could do to change it.

Because he wanted more, but he knew that he shouldn't.

You busy yourself with the steps of making coffee. Measuring out the grounds, filling the pot with water, etc. And when you have two mugs filled to the brim with the elixir of life, you turn to go back to the office.

Unfortunately what you didn't know is that Javier came to see what you were doing, and at the exact moment you turn around with much more enthusiasm than someone should have at 12:39 on a Tuesday night/Wednesday morning, Javier enters the room.

You crash into him, pouring the entire contents of both mugs onto the front of his shirt and down his pants.

Javier makes a sound like a wounded animal.

Coming from someone who had been shot in the past, you now knew that taking scalding hot coffee seemed to be the same level of pain as a bullet wound.

"Shit!" You scream, placing the empty mugs on the counter before turning back to note the prominent stain all over Javier's lower stomach and the front of his blue jeans.

Before Javier can reach for the paper towels to clean himself, your hand comes down hard on the center of his chest, stress fueled anxiety giving you almost superhuman strength as you shove him backwards into one of the plastic chairs that sit idle around the pathetic table.

A startled yelp comes through Javier's lips as he stumbles back in surprise, landing unceremoniously in a chair, stunned. You don’t give him time to process the events that happened in the last three seconds, before you're dropping to your knees in front of him, paper towel roll in hand, scrubbing furiously at his lap.

"Oh fuck, Mr. Peña I am so SO sorry!" You babble, working your hands back and forth on the front of his pants, leaning over him. "I didn’t know that you were coming in here and I wanted to make us some coffee because I know that you've been working so hard tonight and-"

Javier groans low under his breath. "It's okay I-" He tries to push you away, but you continue to dab and wipe at the coffee that has soaked through his jeans.

"It's not okay! You could have second or third degree burns." You stare up at him wide eyed.

One of his hands is fisted on his knee, the other gripping the plastic edge of the table like a lifeline, his jaw clenched tight as you work your hands over him.

"I'm fine-" He says through gritted teeth, brown eyes flashing with something that looks a lot like pain.

Maybe we should go to the hospital!

"No, you're not here-" You prop yourself up, placing your hands on Javier's muscular thighs, your face level with his crotch, and blow.

Javier's body constricts, his knuckles turning white from grabbing the table.

"Is that better?" You look up at him again, eyes wide and hopeful, anxiety and embarrassment flooding the synapses in your brain. You were so worried of Javier being in pain, of him being hurt, that you weren't considering the opposite.

Because Javier Peña is trying not to come in his pants like a damn teenager.

He lets out a strangled sound, but doesn't answer, so you try again, blowing over his crotch and hoping that it soothes the scalded flesh.

“You have to stop-“ Javier says in a breathy whisper, face contorting in something that looks like pain. His dark hair is scrunched and wild, sweat beading along his forehead, and his eyes squeezed shut as if he can’t look at you.

Can you sue someone for spilling coffee on you?

“Don’t worry I think I can get it all off!” You say, beginning to frantically dab at his pants again.

Javier was in hell… but fuck it felt a lot like heaven.

He was trying his best not to focus on what you were doing. His mind flitting from photos of M-19 personnel massacred by Pablo Escobar, photos of plane crash victims, memories of drug busts, to other images of whatever else could take his mind off of what was happening in his lap, but nothing was working.

Not when you were kneeling in front of him, eyes wide with fear and worry for him, wearing one of those handmade oversized sweaters that Javier thought made you look unbelievably cute, soft hands rubbing, dabbing, and squeezing him, your cool breath rushing through his coffee soaked pants, and with you apologizing over and over in that sweet voice of yours.

The same one that Javi tried not to think about in the dead of night when all was quiet and he was alone, when another voice inside his head (that sounded remarkably like Steve) told him not to start something with his secretary-

But Javi couldn't help it.

You were unlike anyone he'd met in his entire life. You were soft, kind, generous, with a smile that always made something deep inside Javi break whenever you looked at him. The same smile that he sought after a day without end, because it was the only thing that made him feel like what he was doing meant something after years of him sinking deeper into the mire.

The moment that you started working for him, Javier found himself excited to come to work and that was something that warranted a whole fleet of flying pigs.

You shouldn't be working here, let alone living here. Whenever you didn't show up to work or were a few minutes late Javier's mind went right to the worst, that something had happened to you. That someone had done something and he was too late, because Colombia chewed up and spat out the kind of person you were.

It was why he couldn't bear the thought of you walking alone to your car after work, and why he seemed to be in the same neighborhood on the weekends when you made your way to the market down the street from your apartment to go grocery shopping. It was also why he was trying his best to keep his distance from you, because someone like you had no business being with someone like him.

"Fuck." Javi half moans, because he can’t keep it in.

You look up at him,  still frantically wiping the front of his pants with a coffee stained paper towel. Javier isn't looking at you, his head is tilted upwards at the ceiling and his eyes are squeezed shut, sweat beading along his hairline, breath coming in shallow gasps.

"Shit, Javi I'm so, so sorry. I know it hurts. I'm going to go get some ice." You try to rise from the ground, but Javier's hand comes down on your shoulder to stop you.

"Please don't." His teeth are gritted together.

"But you're hurt. You could have a burn or-"

"I don't."

"How do you know?"

"Cariño-" Javier chuckles, his eyes blink open, turning a honeyed whiskey in the light. "I stopped thinking about that the second you dropped to your knees and started cleaning me up. It doesn’t hurt. And if you keep doing what you’re doing we’re going to have a bigger problem.”

“What do you mea-“

It still doesn't dawn on you what he's talking about or why he would stop thinking about hot coffee burning him until your gaze lowers again to his lap.

Anything you’re about to say evaporates from the tip of your tongue.

In your eagerness and embarrassment, you'd forgotten exactly what it would have felt like for him when you scrubbed, dabbed, and blew on the front of his pants for the past two minutes.

Oh. My. Damn.

You think to yourself as you see the outline of Javier's large erection straining against the zipper of his coffee stained jeans.

How does he- nope nope not thinking about that right now.

By now your face is so warm with embarrassment you're sure that if someone were to crack an egg it would be fried to perfection in seconds. The heat rivals the eruption of mount Vesuvius, rivals the surface of the sun if someone ran a train full of gasoline into it. There is no coming back from this, no rock big enough to hide under, no cave dark and deep enough to cover your shame.

You lean back on your heels, dropping your face into your hands. "I am so sorry-" The word had lost all meaning given how many times you'd said it within the last five minutes, but given the situation, you had no idea what to say.

To say you were mortified was an understatement. You were so embarrassed that you wanted the faded musty maroon carpet to come up and swallow you whole, so embarrassed that you wanted to go outside, open your mouth, and see if you could drown in the heavy downpour.

I'm never going to be able to show my face here again. I'm going to have to quit my job and change my name. And without a job I'll never have enough money to pay my rent or feed my cat, and if I can't feed my cat he's going to eat my face while I'm sleeping and-

Javier coughs out a laugh, the same one that usually made you feel like you'd swallowed sunshine, but not now. Especially not now not when you could call your own time of death.

You could imagine the gravestone:

Here lies so and so died, when she accidentally gave her boss a handjob.

You could also imagine the ridiculous rumors that would stem from this moment. The things that everyone would say about you the second they found out about this.

You can’t move, can’t even breathe.

The longer you sit there the worse you feel. Embarrassment, shame, and anxiety prickles along your skin, jumping and crackling through every nerve ending, making tears burn in your eyes. You wanted to curl up into a little ball under your desk and rot.

It was the single most embarrassing moment of your life and you knew that there would be no other event that would ever top it.

Javier slides out of his chair to kneel in front of you, whispering your name, but you can't look at him, can't do anything.

The thought of running outside into the thunderstorm crosses your mind, but you’d worn heels today and you didn’t think you’d get far running. And it would have been even more embarrassing if you slipped and busted your nose open on the marble floor in the lobby, because you knew that Javier would insist on driving you to the hospital and you didn’t want to sit through that car ride if your life depended on it.

He says your name again, this time gently pulling your hands from your face.  “Why are you crying?” Worry flickers behind his golden gaze, thumbs brushing over the soft skin of your wrists.

“Because I’m embarrassed. I mean I touched you- touched it- I-“

My great grandchildren will still feel my shame. It will haunt them from beyond my grave. They won’t know a moment of peace!

“If anyone should be embarrassed it’s me.” Javier chuckles.

“I don’t think you still have enough of a sense of shame for that Mr. Peña.” You sniffle out a laugh.

It was true. You knew his reputation, had heard the rumor mill a hundred times over, not to mention you had fielded a number of angry phone calls directed at your boss all of whom you’d told them that Javier wasn’t there, while he stood there and made frantic gestures with his hands.

“Oh back to Mr. Peña I see.” He brushes a strand of hair out of your face. Javier's touch trails sparks against your skin, making your throat tight.

“Huh?" You blink in confusion.

“A minute ago you called me Javi.”

"I did?”

It was hard to think when he was still holding one of your wrists in his warm calloused hands. The same hands worn rough from years of holding a gun, and the ones that had only ever treated you with kindness in the three years that you'd worked for him.

"I don't think I've ever heard you call me anything other than 'Mr. Peña' since you got hired." He raises an eyebrow, signature smirk in place.

"Oh well- that's because I- um. You're my boss and I- I ."

I don’t want to get used to calling you anything else because then I won’t be able to stop.

"I like it when you call me Javi." His fingers trace across your chin, making your cheeks heat.

Any semblance of shame or embarrassment that you felt was quickly fading away with his touch. It was the most that he'd ever touched you, except for the few accidental brushes of your fingertips whenever you handed him things, or whenever he somehow was grocery shopping at the same market and he would gently place his hand on the small of your back to lead you through the crowded stalls.

You never understood why he shopped there too. It was thirty minutes in the opposite direction of where he lived.

This isn't happening. This is just a daydream I'm having and-

“But I don’t like it when you cry.” Javier’s mouth pulls down into a frown. “I promise it’s okay-“

“I’m sorry-” You wipe at your eyes with the back of your free hand.

You couldn't seem to stop saying it. But again you honestly didn't know what else to say. Sorry seemed to cover a multitude of sins. Not to mention the way that Javier was touching you and looking at you right now, and the energy that seemed to pulse and thrum through the air was making your head a little fuzzy.

Before you can say or do anything more, Javier leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead. “You have nothing to be sorry about. You were just trying to help.”

Your hand falls automatically to the front of Javier's orange button up, gasping softly in surprise. He freezes, eyes wide as if he can’t believe that he did it either.

And he can't. Javier didn't meant to, but he can't stand to see you cry. Not when each time you did, it was like the sun was hidden behind the clouds and not when it was like a piece of himself was dying. And he didn't think that you should be embarrassed about this, because you were honestly just trying to help him.

The odd energy pulses again, threading through the air between the two of you, as neither one pulls away. His dark gaze is on you, hesitant, as if he's waiting for something you can't see. Some subtle que or tick that only he knows.

The spicy smell of Javier's aftershave floods into your nose, familiar in the best way, and the feeling of the warmth of his body only inches away makes your brain short circuit.

For the first time in the three years that you'd worked for Javier, you don't feel like his awkward secretary, because the way that he's looking at you… it makes you feel like more.

Javier leans forward just a hair, your hand still resting on his shirt, and brushes his lips against yours, eyes open, gauging your reaction. A sigh works it's way through your parted lips as you sink into the kiss, the hand you have resting on his shirt curling enough to feel the subtle shift of his muscles move and it's exactly what Javier needed.

His lips fall against yours with fervor, hands skating down the fabric of your sweater and finding your hips with ease, before he pulls you into his lap, not breaking the kiss.

It's unlike anything you could have imagined, more than any fantasy you could have made up in your head. The feeling of his supple lips, the tickle of his mustache, the warmth that surges up, up, up in a fluid wave through your body, the taste of the peppermint and stale coffee-

It’s addictive, maddening, hypnotic.

He groans into your mouth, the sound not unlike what he made moments ago, his hands subtly pushing up the edge of your sweater to find the heated skin of your waist fueling the spark that burns through your body. Goosebumps trace along your flesh with a heavy hand, the white hot fire that comes with the feeling of his skin on yours traveling from the base of your throat to the pit of your stomach.

“Javi-“ You breathe his name on a gasp, earning a groan from the man beneath you as he pulls you harder against him, moving his lips down the column of your throat into the shadow of your jaw whispering things in Spanish that you can’t understand. Your hands move up the expanse of his chest and find refuge in his hair, the dark locks falling beneath your fingertips, soft and curled slightly on the ends. Your name comes out of his mouth in a throaty whisper, rumbling up through where your chest is pressed against his.

You'd never heard anyone say it like that before, almost reverent, cherished, like you're his. As if after all this time you've always been his and it's always led to this moment. And it makes something inside break open and flood into the cavity of your chest.

Then all at once he stops, pulling back from you, pupils dilated slightly, looking at you in a daze, his chest rising and falling in rapid gasps.

“We shouldn’t- I shouldn’t.” His voice comes out in a hoarse whisper.

The embarrassment is back tenfold, because now that you’d felt him under you, felt the urgency of his touch against your body, his lips soft against your mouth you don’t know how the hell you’re going to do anything else whenever you see him.

“I'm sorry-“ You mutter before you can stop it, and try to move back off of him, misunderstanding what he means.

Javier kisses you again, holding you firmly on his lap, eyes darker than you'd ever seen them.

“Please stop apologizing.” He murmurs against your lips. “I meant that I don’t want it to happen like this. I at least want to take you out to dinner first. You're-" Javier swallows. "You deserve that."

You blink in surprise. It wasn't that you thought Javier wasn't a gentleman, it was that you weren't expecting him to say something like that. Not when there was no one left in the entire embassy and he didn't have to stop...

But with this pause, reality came roaring back in.

He's my boss. What would other people say?

“Are you sure that’s not a bad idea?” Your fingers gently move through the strands of hair at the back of his head, which makes Javier sigh and lean into your touch.

“It’s the worst idea. Been trying to not ask you out for three years.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Javier chuckles

“It is a bad idea.” You bite the inside of your cheek.

It was. Beyond bad. Practically forbidden. Not to mention you knew for a fact that Javier would probably think you were just too weird and awkward to care about a follow up date and then it would ruin the relationship the two of you had.

But you wanted to say yes. That's an understatement, you wanted to scream yes from the mountaintops and perform a rendition of "The Hills Are Alive" with Julie Andrews.

"Terrible, cariño." Javier smirks a little wider, the grip he has on your waist tightening with a promise that flashes in his dark eyes.

“Maybe not coffee.” You say hesitantly.

"Yeah, that'd probably be safer.” Javier admits. “Though I think if I took you out for a drink there’s always the possibility you could spill your martini and stab me with an olive skewer.”

Your cheeks heat in embarrassment.

"But it's worth the risk." He murmurs leaning his forehead against yours.

"Some things always are." You echo with a soft smile, listening to the rumble of thunder shaking the brick, mortar, and glass of the embassy. The rest of the world melting away and leaving you just with Javi for a few precious moments when all hell rages outside the white washed walls and musty carpets.

Anything can happen in a thunderstorm, you just never imagined something like this.

A/N: Again Alex congratulations on the 5k and giving me such an inspirational gif for your challenge! It was fun for him, and of course to watch some Narcos again 🥰

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated! The comments really keep me going!

Taglist:

@angrydragon90 @jollyhunter @kmc1989

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@honey-on-your-tongue

Yay! Thank you so much 🥰

Worth The Risk

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: When you and your boss get stuck working late at the Embassy, a heated accident makes the two of you realize that maybe some things are worth the risk. Written for @zepskies 5K follower celebration!

Tropes: Little tiny bit of grumpy sunshine, Tiny bit of shy/awkward reader, Boss and Secretary Dynamic, Soft! Javier. Mutual Pining.

Word Count: 4.6K

Warnings: I'm labelling this one as 18+ (just in case)! Sexual situationish? Cursing, Super awkward situation, Make out session, References to sex (there's quite a bit), References to Javi being a tiny bit of a slut *said affectionately* (because we all love him for it), Loverboy! Javi, Accidental Handjob (I don't know what to call it)? Reader is kinda awkward, Reader has anxiety, Reader being a little bit self-deprecating? Reader has a bit of a developed backstory for the fic, Javier being a little bit self-deprecating? Javier might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is no use of y/n! I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite! I have never written for Javier before, so please, PLEASE be gentle.

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

A/N: Alright Alex, happy 5k! This one rolled out of me due to the very, VERY inspirational gif that you sent me (still can't look at it for too long without stroking out 🤣). I'll have to return the favor someday 😈 But to everyone else, this one is really just something silly that was living rent free in my head so enjoy!

There is something magical about rain.

The gentle patter against a rooftop like a soothing melody, the racing droplets down a window that you can trace with your fingertips, the distant rumble of thunder over the mountains shaking through the lush green forests, the heady smell of rain that comes moments before a downpour, the flash of lightning that captures the world in shades of black and white- it makes the rest of the world melt away, isolates you to one single place to bask in the enchanting sounds and beauty of it all.

Anything can happen in a thunderstorm.

Of course there are some things that are not magical about rain.

The feeling of the cold droplets slipping below your collar and trickling down your spine, the squish of your soaked socks and shoes when you step into a puddle that was a little deeper than you thought it was, the flash of lightning above your head that is a little too close for comfort followed the deep crack of thunder…

Or when you’re fighting for your life with a stubborn umbrella in a heavy downpour that won’t do the one job it was literally made for and you end up looking like a drowned rat by the time you get to where you were going, and you’re too embarrassed to go in so you just turn to take the walk of shame home, and end up running into your “so sexy it should be a crime” boss.

Not speaking from personal experience or anything…

The raging thunderstorm that pummeled and shook the American Embassy was trying it's best to rival the storm that Noah survived, and was also unfortunately keeping you from your warm bed past midnight on a Tuesday.

An umbrella would have been worthless at this point given that the rain seemed to be coming up from the ground and because your ancient Nova had refused to start this morning and you'd walked to work, you were stuck.

But you didn't mind staying late for one reason:

Javier Peña

The level of crush you had on your boss was shameful, but you hadn't meant for this to happen, honest! He was just, so, so…

Javier sighs where he sits at his desk, leaning back to prop his feet up on the strong metal table top while the muscles of his right arm strain against the sleeve of his orange button up, making your throat constrict.

Sexy.

Which yes, maybe it was a bit of a cliché, a secretary falling in love with her boss that was way out of her league in every single way, but you were.

Sure Javier had a reputation with women. Goodness knows you had heard every single scandalous whisper about his numerous escapades and seen every sultry look from the women who passed by the office hoping to catch a glimpse of your boss hard at work. The same women who told you how lucky you were to work with Javier and how jealous they were of you.

They didn't need to be. You knew for a fact that Javier didn't see you as more than just his secretary.

How you ask? Because of the way he treated you.

You'd seen Javier charming someone back to his apartment- the moves, the smirk, the mischievous glint in his whiskey colored eyes when he knew he had someone on the hook, and the low rumble of his chuckle that made you lose all feeling in your legs. You'd seen the same song and dance at every Christmas, New Years, and whatever other holiday that you were celebrating at the Embassy party.

But around you, Javier was a different man.

Yes he still had the same charm, but he was softer. He genuinely would ask you how your day was going whenever he walked by, listened to you whisper whatever gossip you picked up at the water cooler on the fifth floor or in the break room and laughed with you, suggested places to order lunch from where he knew you would find something too, walked with you to your car when it was late, and whenever he went out with Steve he always brought something back for you, whether it be a nice cup of well-needed coffee or a Cocada from your favorite bakery down the street.

He was a good boss. Anyone would be lucky to work with him.

Plus you'd seen the kind of women he was interested in and you weren't one of them. You weren't confident or outgoing. Sure you'd speak to your boss, Steve, and a few people around the office when you had to, but you were not okay with just striking up a conversation or joining a group mid-sentence because that was like a suicide mission. Plus being as clumsy as you were, you'd probably take a few steps towards the group then eat it on the musty carpets.

And you certainly didn't dress like any of them- well, some of them dressed for their profession and that was okay, but you definitely couldn't imagine wearing anything like that around the office.

Your wardrobe consisted of oversized sweaters, long flowy skirts, and soft dresses that draped rather than squeezed your boobs into submission and didn't prop them up to say "hello." But you wanted to be comfy at work because you were there so many hours during the day and you didn't think that you'd be able to breathe if you wore anything tight when you sat down.

That wasn't to say that you didn't "try" when you were at work, just that your sense of style was more… reserved than the women you saw Javier gravitate towards.

So basically you were trying to not be attracted to your boss, and after three years all your crush had done was triple in size and follow you around like a smelly water buffalo.

Javier sighs again, drawing your gaze up from the stack of notes you were organizing into chronological order for him. His eyes skate over to you, a weary smile twitching at the end of his lips before his attention drops back to the folder perched in his lap.

Everyone else had gone home for the night, and usually by now Javier would have gone too, but he had a meeting with Ambassador Noonan in the morning and was trying to prepare.

Maybe he needs some coffee.

You think to yourself as you rise from your cluttered desk making your way to the small break room two rooms down the corridor, not noticing the way Javier's eyes follow you.

He had told you to go home earlier, told you that he had this handled, but you refused. Javier didn’t understand why you wouldn't go, but he was happy you didn't, because it meant that he got to be with you for just a few more hours than normal. Got to hear your soft sigh as your shuffled through papers, got to see the way your face got that cute scrunch when you were concentrating, and got to smell the bright mist of your citrus perfume whenever you walked by. The same perfume that he had to stop himself from trying to gulp down from the air like a man dying of thirst in the dessert, because the way you smelled was like a drug to him. It made him feel like an addict of the worst kind.

And then also made him feel like the scummiest guy on the planet because he was your boss and shouldn't be having any of those thoughts about you, but he couldn't help it. Not when since the first day he met you, Javier felt his dead heart start to beat again. Not when being in the same room with you was like standing too close to the sun, blinded and filled with so much heat he thought it would all come pouring out of him like molten lava.

Javier Peña had it bad. Steve often teased him about it and Javi shrugged him off, but Javier knew in his heart that there wasn't much he could do to change it.

Because he wanted more, but he knew that he shouldn't.

You busy yourself with the steps of making coffee. Measuring out the grounds, filling the pot with water, etc. And when you have two mugs filled to the brim with the elixir of life, you turn to go back to the office.

Unfortunately what you didn't know is that Javier came to see what you were doing, and at the exact moment you turn around with much more enthusiasm than someone should have at 12:39 on a Tuesday night/Wednesday morning, Javier enters the room.

You crash into him, pouring the entire contents of both mugs onto the front of his shirt and down his pants.

Javier makes a sound like a wounded animal.

Coming from someone who had been shot in the past, you now knew that taking scalding hot coffee seemed to be the same level of pain as a bullet wound.

"Shit!" You scream, placing the empty mugs on the counter before turning back to note the prominent stain all over Javier's lower stomach and the front of his blue jeans.

Before Javier can reach for the paper towels to clean himself, your hand comes down hard on the center of his chest, stress fueled anxiety giving you almost superhuman strength as you shove him backwards into one of the plastic chairs that sit idle around the pathetic table.

A startled yelp comes through Javier's lips as he stumbles back in surprise, landing unceremoniously in a chair, stunned. You don’t give him time to process the events that happened in the last three seconds, before you're dropping to your knees in front of him, paper towel roll in hand, scrubbing furiously at his lap.

"Oh fuck, Mr. Peña I am so SO sorry!" You babble, working your hands back and forth on the front of his pants, leaning over him. "I didn’t know that you were coming in here and I wanted to make us some coffee because I know that you've been working so hard tonight and-"

Javier groans low under his breath. "It's okay I-" He tries to push you away, but you continue to dab and wipe at the coffee that has soaked through his jeans.

"It's not okay! You could have second or third degree burns." You stare up at him wide eyed.

One of his hands is fisted on his knee, the other gripping the plastic edge of the table like a lifeline, his jaw clenched tight as you work your hands over him.

"I'm fine-" He says through gritted teeth, brown eyes flashing with something that looks a lot like pain.

Maybe we should go to the hospital!

"No, you're not here-" You prop yourself up, placing your hands on Javier's muscular thighs, your face level with his crotch, and blow.

Javier's body constricts, his knuckles turning white from grabbing the table.

"Is that better?" You look up at him again, eyes wide and hopeful, anxiety and embarrassment flooding the synapses in your brain. You were so worried of Javier being in pain, of him being hurt, that you weren't considering the opposite.

Because Javier Peña is trying not to come in his pants like a damn teenager.

He lets out a strangled sound, but doesn't answer, so you try again, blowing over his crotch and hoping that it soothes the scalded flesh.

“You have to stop-“ Javier says in a breathy whisper, face contorting in something that looks like pain. His dark hair is scrunched and wild, sweat beading along his forehead, and his eyes squeezed shut as if he can’t look at you.

Can you sue someone for spilling coffee on you?

“Don’t worry I think I can get it all off!” You say, beginning to frantically dab at his pants again.

Javier was in hell… but fuck it felt a lot like heaven.

He was trying his best not to focus on what you were doing. His mind flitting from photos of M-19 personnel massacred by Pablo Escobar, photos of plane crash victims, memories of drug busts, to other images of whatever else could take his mind off of what was happening in his lap, but nothing was working.

Not when you were kneeling in front of him, eyes wide with fear and worry for him, wearing one of those handmade oversized sweaters that Javier thought made you look unbelievably cute, soft hands rubbing, dabbing, and squeezing him, your cool breath rushing through his coffee soaked pants, and with you apologizing over and over in that sweet voice of yours.

The same one that Javi tried not to think about in the dead of night when all was quiet and he was alone, when another voice inside his head (that sounded remarkably like Steve) told him not to start something with his secretary-

But Javi couldn't help it.

You were unlike anyone he'd met in his entire life. You were soft, kind, generous, with a smile that always made something deep inside Javi break whenever you looked at him. The same smile that he sought after a day without end, because it was the only thing that made him feel like what he was doing meant something after years of him sinking deeper into the mire.

The moment that you started working for him, Javier found himself excited to come to work and that was something that warranted a whole fleet of flying pigs.

You shouldn't be working here, let alone living here. Whenever you didn't show up to work or were a few minutes late Javier's mind went right to the worst, that something had happened to you. That someone had done something and he was too late, because Colombia chewed up and spat out the kind of person you were.

It was why he couldn't bear the thought of you walking alone to your car after work, and why he seemed to be in the same neighborhood on the weekends when you made your way to the market down the street from your apartment to go grocery shopping. It was also why he was trying his best to keep his distance from you, because someone like you had no business being with someone like him.

"Fuck." Javi half moans, because he can’t keep it in.

You look up at him,  still frantically wiping the front of his pants with a coffee stained paper towel. Javier isn't looking at you, his head is tilted upwards at the ceiling and his eyes are squeezed shut, sweat beading along his hairline, breath coming in shallow gasps.

"Shit, Javi I'm so, so sorry. I know it hurts. I'm going to go get some ice." You try to rise from the ground, but Javier's hand comes down on your shoulder to stop you.

"Please don't." His teeth are gritted together.

"But you're hurt. You could have a burn or-"

"I don't."

"How do you know?"

"Cariño-" Javier chuckles, his eyes blink open, turning a honeyed whiskey in the light. "I stopped thinking about that the second you dropped to your knees and started cleaning me up. It doesn’t hurt. And if you keep doing what you’re doing we’re going to have a bigger problem.”

“What do you mea-“

It still doesn't dawn on you what he's talking about or why he would stop thinking about hot coffee burning him until your gaze lowers again to his lap.

Anything you’re about to say evaporates from the tip of your tongue.

In your eagerness and embarrassment, you'd forgotten exactly what it would have felt like for him when you scrubbed, dabbed, and blew on the front of his pants for the past two minutes.

Oh. My. Damn.

You think to yourself as you see the outline of Javier's large erection straining against the zipper of his coffee stained jeans.

How does he- nope nope not thinking about that right now.

By now your face is so warm with embarrassment you're sure that if someone were to crack an egg it would be fried to perfection in seconds. The heat rivals the eruption of mount Vesuvius, rivals the surface of the sun if someone ran a train full of gasoline into it. There is no coming back from this, no rock big enough to hide under, no cave dark and deep enough to cover your shame.

You lean back on your heels, dropping your face into your hands. "I am so sorry-" The word had lost all meaning given how many times you'd said it within the last five minutes, but given the situation, you had no idea what to say.

To say you were mortified was an understatement. You were so embarrassed that you wanted the faded musty maroon carpet to come up and swallow you whole, so embarrassed that you wanted to go outside, open your mouth, and see if you could drown in the heavy downpour.

I'm never going to be able to show my face here again. I'm going to have to quit my job and change my name. And without a job I'll never have enough money to pay my rent or feed my cat, and if I can't feed my cat he's going to eat my face while I'm sleeping and-

Javier coughs out a laugh, the same one that usually made you feel like you'd swallowed sunshine, but not now. Especially not now not when you could call your own time of death.

You could imagine the gravestone:

Here lies so and so died, when she accidentally gave her boss a handjob.

You could also imagine the ridiculous rumors that would stem from this moment. The things that everyone would say about you the second they found out about this.

You can’t move, can’t even breathe.

The longer you sit there the worse you feel. Embarrassment, shame, and anxiety prickles along your skin, jumping and crackling through every nerve ending, making tears burn in your eyes. You wanted to curl up into a little ball under your desk and rot.

It was the single most embarrassing moment of your life and you knew that there would be no other event that would ever top it.

Javier slides out of his chair to kneel in front of you, whispering your name, but you can't look at him, can't do anything.

The thought of running outside into the thunderstorm crosses your mind, but you’d worn heels today and you didn’t think you’d get far running. And it would have been even more embarrassing if you slipped and busted your nose open on the marble floor in the lobby, because you knew that Javier would insist on driving you to the hospital and you didn’t want to sit through that car ride if your life depended on it.

He says your name again, this time gently pulling your hands from your face.  “Why are you crying?” Worry flickers behind his golden gaze, thumbs brushing over the soft skin of your wrists.

“Because I’m embarrassed. I mean I touched you- touched it- I-“

My great grandchildren will still feel my shame. It will haunt them from beyond my grave. They won’t know a moment of peace!

“If anyone should be embarrassed it’s me.” Javier chuckles.

“I don’t think you still have enough of a sense of shame for that Mr. Peña.” You sniffle out a laugh.

It was true. You knew his reputation, had heard the rumor mill a hundred times over, not to mention you had fielded a number of angry phone calls directed at your boss all of whom you’d told them that Javier wasn’t there, while he stood there and made frantic gestures with his hands.

“Oh back to Mr. Peña I see.” He brushes a strand of hair out of your face. Javier's touch trails sparks against your skin, making your throat tight.

“Huh?" You blink in confusion.

“A minute ago you called me Javi.”

"I did?”

It was hard to think when he was still holding one of your wrists in his warm calloused hands. The same hands worn rough from years of holding a gun, and the ones that had only ever treated you with kindness in the three years that you'd worked for him.

"I don't think I've ever heard you call me anything other than 'Mr. Peña' since you got hired." He raises an eyebrow, signature smirk in place.

"Oh well- that's because I- um. You're my boss and I- I ."

I don’t want to get used to calling you anything else because then I won’t be able to stop.

"I like it when you call me Javi." His fingers trace across your chin, making your cheeks heat.

Any semblance of shame or embarrassment that you felt was quickly fading away with his touch. It was the most that he'd ever touched you, except for the few accidental brushes of your fingertips whenever you handed him things, or whenever he somehow was grocery shopping at the same market and he would gently place his hand on the small of your back to lead you through the crowded stalls.

You never understood why he shopped there too. It was thirty minutes in the opposite direction of where he lived.

This isn't happening. This is just a daydream I'm having and-

“But I don’t like it when you cry.” Javier’s mouth pulls down into a frown. “I promise it’s okay-“

“I’m sorry-” You wipe at your eyes with the back of your free hand.

You couldn't seem to stop saying it. But again you honestly didn't know what else to say. Sorry seemed to cover a multitude of sins. Not to mention the way that Javier was touching you and looking at you right now, and the energy that seemed to pulse and thrum through the air was making your head a little fuzzy.

Before you can say or do anything more, Javier leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead. “You have nothing to be sorry about. You were just trying to help.”

Your hand falls automatically to the front of Javier's orange button up, gasping softly in surprise. He freezes, eyes wide as if he can’t believe that he did it either.

And he can't. Javier didn't meant to, but he can't stand to see you cry. Not when each time you did, it was like the sun was hidden behind the clouds and not when it was like a piece of himself was dying. And he didn't think that you should be embarrassed about this, because you were honestly just trying to help him.

The odd energy pulses again, threading through the air between the two of you, as neither one pulls away. His dark gaze is on you, hesitant, as if he's waiting for something you can't see. Some subtle que or tick that only he knows.

The spicy smell of Javier's aftershave floods into your nose, familiar in the best way, and the feeling of the warmth of his body only inches away makes your brain short circuit.

For the first time in the three years that you'd worked for Javier, you don't feel like his awkward secretary, because the way that he's looking at you… it makes you feel like more.

Javier leans forward just a hair, your hand still resting on his shirt, and brushes his lips against yours, eyes open, gauging your reaction. A sigh works it's way through your parted lips as you sink into the kiss, the hand you have resting on his shirt curling enough to feel the subtle shift of his muscles move and it's exactly what Javier needed.

His lips fall against yours with fervor, hands skating down the fabric of your sweater and finding your hips with ease, before he pulls you into his lap, not breaking the kiss.

It's unlike anything you could have imagined, more than any fantasy you could have made up in your head. The feeling of his supple lips, the tickle of his mustache, the warmth that surges up, up, up in a fluid wave through your body, the taste of the peppermint and stale coffee-

It’s addictive, maddening, hypnotic.

He groans into your mouth, the sound not unlike what he made moments ago, his hands subtly pushing up the edge of your sweater to find the heated skin of your waist fueling the spark that burns through your body. Goosebumps trace along your flesh with a heavy hand, the white hot fire that comes with the feeling of his skin on yours traveling from the base of your throat to the pit of your stomach.

“Javi-“ You breathe his name on a gasp, earning a groan from the man beneath you as he pulls you harder against him, moving his lips down the column of your throat into the shadow of your jaw whispering things in Spanish that you can’t understand. Your hands move up the expanse of his chest and find refuge in his hair, the dark locks falling beneath your fingertips, soft and curled slightly on the ends. Your name comes out of his mouth in a throaty whisper, rumbling up through where your chest is pressed against his.

You'd never heard anyone say it like that before, almost reverent, cherished, like you're his. As if after all this time you've always been his and it's always led to this moment. And it makes something inside break open and flood into the cavity of your chest.

Then all at once he stops, pulling back from you, pupils dilated slightly, looking at you in a daze, his chest rising and falling in rapid gasps.

“We shouldn’t- I shouldn’t.” His voice comes out in a hoarse whisper.

The embarrassment is back tenfold, because now that you’d felt him under you, felt the urgency of his touch against your body, his lips soft against your mouth you don’t know how the hell you’re going to do anything else whenever you see him.

“I'm sorry-“ You mutter before you can stop it, and try to move back off of him, misunderstanding what he means.

Javier kisses you again, holding you firmly on his lap, eyes darker than you'd ever seen them.

“Please stop apologizing.” He murmurs against your lips. “I meant that I don’t want it to happen like this. I at least want to take you out to dinner first. You're-" Javier swallows. "You deserve that."

You blink in surprise. It wasn't that you thought Javier wasn't a gentleman, it was that you weren't expecting him to say something like that. Not when there was no one left in the entire embassy and he didn't have to stop...

But with this pause, reality came roaring back in.

He's my boss. What would other people say?

“Are you sure that’s not a bad idea?” Your fingers gently move through the strands of hair at the back of his head, which makes Javier sigh and lean into your touch.

“It’s the worst idea. Been trying to not ask you out for three years.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Javier chuckles

“It is a bad idea.” You bite the inside of your cheek.

It was. Beyond bad. Practically forbidden. Not to mention you knew for a fact that Javier would probably think you were just too weird and awkward to care about a follow up date and then it would ruin the relationship the two of you had.

But you wanted to say yes. That's an understatement, you wanted to scream yes from the mountaintops and perform a rendition of "The Hills Are Alive" with Julie Andrews.

"Terrible, cariño." Javier smirks a little wider, the grip he has on your waist tightening with a promise that flashes in his dark eyes.

“Maybe not coffee.” You say hesitantly.

"Yeah, that'd probably be safer.” Javier admits. “Though I think if I took you out for a drink there’s always the possibility you could spill your martini and stab me with an olive skewer.”

Your cheeks heat in embarrassment.

"But it's worth the risk." He murmurs leaning his forehead against yours.

"Some things always are." You echo with a soft smile, listening to the rumble of thunder shaking the brick, mortar, and glass of the embassy. The rest of the world melting away and leaving you just with Javi for a few precious moments when all hell rages outside the white washed walls and musty carpets.

Anything can happen in a thunderstorm, you just never imagined something like this.

A/N: Again Alex congratulations on the 5k and giving me such an inspirational gif for your challenge! It was fun for him, and of course to watch some Narcos again 🥰

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated! The comments really keep me going!

Taglist:

@angrydragon90 @jollyhunter @kmc1989

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@wanniiieeee

Oh my goodness thank you so much!!! 🥰 I'm so happy that you liked it! And thank you so much for taking the time to reach out and tell me what you thought and for reblogging!💗💗💗

Worth The Risk

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: When you and your boss get stuck working late at the Embassy, a heated accident makes the two of you realize that maybe some things are worth the risk. Written for @zepskies 5K follower celebration!

Tropes: Little tiny bit of grumpy sunshine, Tiny bit of shy/awkward reader, Boss and Secretary Dynamic, Soft! Javier. Mutual Pining.

Word Count: 4.6K

Warnings: I'm labelling this one as 18+ (just in case)! Sexual situationish? Cursing, Super awkward situation, Make out session, References to sex (there's quite a bit), References to Javi being a tiny bit of a slut *said affectionately* (because we all love him for it), Loverboy! Javi, Accidental Handjob (I don't know what to call it)? Reader is kinda awkward, Reader has anxiety, Reader being a little bit self-deprecating? Reader has a bit of a developed backstory for the fic, Javier being a little bit self-deprecating? Javier might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is no use of y/n! I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite! I have never written for Javier before, so please, PLEASE be gentle.

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

A/N: Alright Alex, happy 5k! This one rolled out of me due to the very, VERY inspirational gif that you sent me (still can't look at it for too long without stroking out 🤣). I'll have to return the favor someday 😈 But to everyone else, this one is really just something silly that was living rent free in my head so enjoy!

There is something magical about rain.

The gentle patter against a rooftop like a soothing melody, the racing droplets down a window that you can trace with your fingertips, the distant rumble of thunder over the mountains shaking through the lush green forests, the heady smell of rain that comes moments before a downpour, the flash of lightning that captures the world in shades of black and white- it makes the rest of the world melt away, isolates you to one single place to bask in the enchanting sounds and beauty of it all.

Anything can happen in a thunderstorm.

Of course there are some things that are not magical about rain.

The feeling of the cold droplets slipping below your collar and trickling down your spine, the squish of your soaked socks and shoes when you step into a puddle that was a little deeper than you thought it was, the flash of lightning above your head that is a little too close for comfort followed the deep crack of thunder…

Or when you’re fighting for your life with a stubborn umbrella in a heavy downpour that won’t do the one job it was literally made for and you end up looking like a drowned rat by the time you get to where you were going, and you’re too embarrassed to go in so you just turn to take the walk of shame home, and end up running into your “so sexy it should be a crime” boss.

Not speaking from personal experience or anything…

The raging thunderstorm that pummeled and shook the American Embassy was trying it's best to rival the storm that Noah survived, and was also unfortunately keeping you from your warm bed past midnight on a Tuesday.

An umbrella would have been worthless at this point given that the rain seemed to be coming up from the ground and because your ancient Nova had refused to start this morning and you'd walked to work, you were stuck.

But you didn't mind staying late for one reason:

Javier Peña

The level of crush you had on your boss was shameful, but you hadn't meant for this to happen, honest! He was just, so, so…

Javier sighs where he sits at his desk, leaning back to prop his feet up on the strong metal table top while the muscles of his right arm strain against the sleeve of his orange button up, making your throat constrict.

Sexy.

Which yes, maybe it was a bit of a cliché, a secretary falling in love with her boss that was way out of her league in every single way, but you were.

Sure Javier had a reputation with women. Goodness knows you had heard every single scandalous whisper about his numerous escapades and seen every sultry look from the women who passed by the office hoping to catch a glimpse of your boss hard at work. The same women who told you how lucky you were to work with Javier and how jealous they were of you.

They didn't need to be. You knew for a fact that Javier didn't see you as more than just his secretary.

How you ask? Because of the way he treated you.

You'd seen Javier charming someone back to his apartment- the moves, the smirk, the mischievous glint in his whiskey colored eyes when he knew he had someone on the hook, and the low rumble of his chuckle that made you lose all feeling in your legs. You'd seen the same song and dance at every Christmas, New Years, and whatever other holiday that you were celebrating at the Embassy party.

But around you, Javier was a different man.

Yes he still had the same charm, but he was softer. He genuinely would ask you how your day was going whenever he walked by, listened to you whisper whatever gossip you picked up at the water cooler on the fifth floor or in the break room and laughed with you, suggested places to order lunch from where he knew you would find something too, walked with you to your car when it was late, and whenever he went out with Steve he always brought something back for you, whether it be a nice cup of well-needed coffee or a Cocada from your favorite bakery down the street.

He was a good boss. Anyone would be lucky to work with him.

Plus you'd seen the kind of women he was interested in and you weren't one of them. You weren't confident or outgoing. Sure you'd speak to your boss, Steve, and a few people around the office when you had to, but you were not okay with just striking up a conversation or joining a group mid-sentence because that was like a suicide mission. Plus being as clumsy as you were, you'd probably take a few steps towards the group then eat it on the musty carpets.

And you certainly didn't dress like any of them- well, some of them dressed for their profession and that was okay, but you definitely couldn't imagine wearing anything like that around the office.

Your wardrobe consisted of oversized sweaters, long flowy skirts, and soft dresses that draped rather than squeezed your boobs into submission and didn't prop them up to say "hello." But you wanted to be comfy at work because you were there so many hours during the day and you didn't think that you'd be able to breathe if you wore anything tight when you sat down.

That wasn't to say that you didn't "try" when you were at work, just that your sense of style was more… reserved than the women you saw Javier gravitate towards.

So basically you were trying to not be attracted to your boss, and after three years all your crush had done was triple in size and follow you around like a smelly water buffalo.

Javier sighs again, drawing your gaze up from the stack of notes you were organizing into chronological order for him. His eyes skate over to you, a weary smile twitching at the end of his lips before his attention drops back to the folder perched in his lap.

Everyone else had gone home for the night, and usually by now Javier would have gone too, but he had a meeting with Ambassador Noonan in the morning and was trying to prepare.

Maybe he needs some coffee.

You think to yourself as you rise from your cluttered desk making your way to the small break room two rooms down the corridor, not noticing the way Javier's eyes follow you.

He had told you to go home earlier, told you that he had this handled, but you refused. Javier didn’t understand why you wouldn't go, but he was happy you didn't, because it meant that he got to be with you for just a few more hours than normal. Got to hear your soft sigh as your shuffled through papers, got to see the way your face got that cute scrunch when you were concentrating, and got to smell the bright mist of your citrus perfume whenever you walked by. The same perfume that he had to stop himself from trying to gulp down from the air like a man dying of thirst in the dessert, because the way you smelled was like a drug to him. It made him feel like an addict of the worst kind.

And then also made him feel like the scummiest guy on the planet because he was your boss and shouldn't be having any of those thoughts about you, but he couldn't help it. Not when since the first day he met you, Javier felt his dead heart start to beat again. Not when being in the same room with you was like standing too close to the sun, blinded and filled with so much heat he thought it would all come pouring out of him like molten lava.

Javier Peña had it bad. Steve often teased him about it and Javi shrugged him off, but Javier knew in his heart that there wasn't much he could do to change it.

Because he wanted more, but he knew that he shouldn't.

You busy yourself with the steps of making coffee. Measuring out the grounds, filling the pot with water, etc. And when you have two mugs filled to the brim with the elixir of life, you turn to go back to the office.

Unfortunately what you didn't know is that Javier came to see what you were doing, and at the exact moment you turn around with much more enthusiasm than someone should have at 12:39 on a Tuesday night/Wednesday morning, Javier enters the room.

You crash into him, pouring the entire contents of both mugs onto the front of his shirt and down his pants.

Javier makes a sound like a wounded animal.

Coming from someone who had been shot in the past, you now knew that taking scalding hot coffee seemed to be the same level of pain as a bullet wound.

"Shit!" You scream, placing the empty mugs on the counter before turning back to note the prominent stain all over Javier's lower stomach and the front of his blue jeans.

Before Javier can reach for the paper towels to clean himself, your hand comes down hard on the center of his chest, stress fueled anxiety giving you almost superhuman strength as you shove him backwards into one of the plastic chairs that sit idle around the pathetic table.

A startled yelp comes through Javier's lips as he stumbles back in surprise, landing unceremoniously in a chair, stunned. You don’t give him time to process the events that happened in the last three seconds, before you're dropping to your knees in front of him, paper towel roll in hand, scrubbing furiously at his lap.

"Oh fuck, Mr. Peña I am so SO sorry!" You babble, working your hands back and forth on the front of his pants, leaning over him. "I didn’t know that you were coming in here and I wanted to make us some coffee because I know that you've been working so hard tonight and-"

Javier groans low under his breath. "It's okay I-" He tries to push you away, but you continue to dab and wipe at the coffee that has soaked through his jeans.

"It's not okay! You could have second or third degree burns." You stare up at him wide eyed.

One of his hands is fisted on his knee, the other gripping the plastic edge of the table like a lifeline, his jaw clenched tight as you work your hands over him.

"I'm fine-" He says through gritted teeth, brown eyes flashing with something that looks a lot like pain.

Maybe we should go to the hospital!

"No, you're not here-" You prop yourself up, placing your hands on Javier's muscular thighs, your face level with his crotch, and blow.

Javier's body constricts, his knuckles turning white from grabbing the table.

"Is that better?" You look up at him again, eyes wide and hopeful, anxiety and embarrassment flooding the synapses in your brain. You were so worried of Javier being in pain, of him being hurt, that you weren't considering the opposite.

Because Javier Peña is trying not to come in his pants like a damn teenager.

He lets out a strangled sound, but doesn't answer, so you try again, blowing over his crotch and hoping that it soothes the scalded flesh.

“You have to stop-“ Javier says in a breathy whisper, face contorting in something that looks like pain. His dark hair is scrunched and wild, sweat beading along his forehead, and his eyes squeezed shut as if he can’t look at you.

Can you sue someone for spilling coffee on you?

“Don’t worry I think I can get it all off!” You say, beginning to frantically dab at his pants again.

Javier was in hell… but fuck it felt a lot like heaven.

He was trying his best not to focus on what you were doing. His mind flitting from photos of M-19 personnel massacred by Pablo Escobar, photos of plane crash victims, memories of drug busts, to other images of whatever else could take his mind off of what was happening in his lap, but nothing was working.

Not when you were kneeling in front of him, eyes wide with fear and worry for him, wearing one of those handmade oversized sweaters that Javier thought made you look unbelievably cute, soft hands rubbing, dabbing, and squeezing him, your cool breath rushing through his coffee soaked pants, and with you apologizing over and over in that sweet voice of yours.

The same one that Javi tried not to think about in the dead of night when all was quiet and he was alone, when another voice inside his head (that sounded remarkably like Steve) told him not to start something with his secretary-

But Javi couldn't help it.

You were unlike anyone he'd met in his entire life. You were soft, kind, generous, with a smile that always made something deep inside Javi break whenever you looked at him. The same smile that he sought after a day without end, because it was the only thing that made him feel like what he was doing meant something after years of him sinking deeper into the mire.

The moment that you started working for him, Javier found himself excited to come to work and that was something that warranted a whole fleet of flying pigs.

You shouldn't be working here, let alone living here. Whenever you didn't show up to work or were a few minutes late Javier's mind went right to the worst, that something had happened to you. That someone had done something and he was too late, because Colombia chewed up and spat out the kind of person you were.

It was why he couldn't bear the thought of you walking alone to your car after work, and why he seemed to be in the same neighborhood on the weekends when you made your way to the market down the street from your apartment to go grocery shopping. It was also why he was trying his best to keep his distance from you, because someone like you had no business being with someone like him.

"Fuck." Javi half moans, because he can’t keep it in.

You look up at him,  still frantically wiping the front of his pants with a coffee stained paper towel. Javier isn't looking at you, his head is tilted upwards at the ceiling and his eyes are squeezed shut, sweat beading along his hairline, breath coming in shallow gasps.

"Shit, Javi I'm so, so sorry. I know it hurts. I'm going to go get some ice." You try to rise from the ground, but Javier's hand comes down on your shoulder to stop you.

"Please don't." His teeth are gritted together.

"But you're hurt. You could have a burn or-"

"I don't."

"How do you know?"

"Cariño-" Javier chuckles, his eyes blink open, turning a honeyed whiskey in the light. "I stopped thinking about that the second you dropped to your knees and started cleaning me up. It doesn’t hurt. And if you keep doing what you’re doing we’re going to have a bigger problem.”

“What do you mea-“

It still doesn't dawn on you what he's talking about or why he would stop thinking about hot coffee burning him until your gaze lowers again to his lap.

Anything you’re about to say evaporates from the tip of your tongue.

In your eagerness and embarrassment, you'd forgotten exactly what it would have felt like for him when you scrubbed, dabbed, and blew on the front of his pants for the past two minutes.

Oh. My. Damn.

You think to yourself as you see the outline of Javier's large erection straining against the zipper of his coffee stained jeans.

How does he- nope nope not thinking about that right now.

By now your face is so warm with embarrassment you're sure that if someone were to crack an egg it would be fried to perfection in seconds. The heat rivals the eruption of mount Vesuvius, rivals the surface of the sun if someone ran a train full of gasoline into it. There is no coming back from this, no rock big enough to hide under, no cave dark and deep enough to cover your shame.

You lean back on your heels, dropping your face into your hands. "I am so sorry-" The word had lost all meaning given how many times you'd said it within the last five minutes, but given the situation, you had no idea what to say.

To say you were mortified was an understatement. You were so embarrassed that you wanted the faded musty maroon carpet to come up and swallow you whole, so embarrassed that you wanted to go outside, open your mouth, and see if you could drown in the heavy downpour.

I'm never going to be able to show my face here again. I'm going to have to quit my job and change my name. And without a job I'll never have enough money to pay my rent or feed my cat, and if I can't feed my cat he's going to eat my face while I'm sleeping and-

Javier coughs out a laugh, the same one that usually made you feel like you'd swallowed sunshine, but not now. Especially not now not when you could call your own time of death.

You could imagine the gravestone:

Here lies so and so died, when she accidentally gave her boss a handjob.

You could also imagine the ridiculous rumors that would stem from this moment. The things that everyone would say about you the second they found out about this.

You can’t move, can’t even breathe.

The longer you sit there the worse you feel. Embarrassment, shame, and anxiety prickles along your skin, jumping and crackling through every nerve ending, making tears burn in your eyes. You wanted to curl up into a little ball under your desk and rot.

It was the single most embarrassing moment of your life and you knew that there would be no other event that would ever top it.

Javier slides out of his chair to kneel in front of you, whispering your name, but you can't look at him, can't do anything.

The thought of running outside into the thunderstorm crosses your mind, but you’d worn heels today and you didn’t think you’d get far running. And it would have been even more embarrassing if you slipped and busted your nose open on the marble floor in the lobby, because you knew that Javier would insist on driving you to the hospital and you didn’t want to sit through that car ride if your life depended on it.

He says your name again, this time gently pulling your hands from your face.  “Why are you crying?” Worry flickers behind his golden gaze, thumbs brushing over the soft skin of your wrists.

“Because I’m embarrassed. I mean I touched you- touched it- I-“

My great grandchildren will still feel my shame. It will haunt them from beyond my grave. They won’t know a moment of peace!

“If anyone should be embarrassed it’s me.” Javier chuckles.

“I don’t think you still have enough of a sense of shame for that Mr. Peña.” You sniffle out a laugh.

It was true. You knew his reputation, had heard the rumor mill a hundred times over, not to mention you had fielded a number of angry phone calls directed at your boss all of whom you’d told them that Javier wasn’t there, while he stood there and made frantic gestures with his hands.

“Oh back to Mr. Peña I see.” He brushes a strand of hair out of your face. Javier's touch trails sparks against your skin, making your throat tight.

“Huh?" You blink in confusion.

“A minute ago you called me Javi.”

"I did?”

It was hard to think when he was still holding one of your wrists in his warm calloused hands. The same hands worn rough from years of holding a gun, and the ones that had only ever treated you with kindness in the three years that you'd worked for him.

"I don't think I've ever heard you call me anything other than 'Mr. Peña' since you got hired." He raises an eyebrow, signature smirk in place.

"Oh well- that's because I- um. You're my boss and I- I ."

I don’t want to get used to calling you anything else because then I won’t be able to stop.

"I like it when you call me Javi." His fingers trace across your chin, making your cheeks heat.

Any semblance of shame or embarrassment that you felt was quickly fading away with his touch. It was the most that he'd ever touched you, except for the few accidental brushes of your fingertips whenever you handed him things, or whenever he somehow was grocery shopping at the same market and he would gently place his hand on the small of your back to lead you through the crowded stalls.

You never understood why he shopped there too. It was thirty minutes in the opposite direction of where he lived.

This isn't happening. This is just a daydream I'm having and-

“But I don’t like it when you cry.” Javier’s mouth pulls down into a frown. “I promise it’s okay-“

“I’m sorry-” You wipe at your eyes with the back of your free hand.

You couldn't seem to stop saying it. But again you honestly didn't know what else to say. Sorry seemed to cover a multitude of sins. Not to mention the way that Javier was touching you and looking at you right now, and the energy that seemed to pulse and thrum through the air was making your head a little fuzzy.

Before you can say or do anything more, Javier leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead. “You have nothing to be sorry about. You were just trying to help.”

Your hand falls automatically to the front of Javier's orange button up, gasping softly in surprise. He freezes, eyes wide as if he can’t believe that he did it either.

And he can't. Javier didn't meant to, but he can't stand to see you cry. Not when each time you did, it was like the sun was hidden behind the clouds and not when it was like a piece of himself was dying. And he didn't think that you should be embarrassed about this, because you were honestly just trying to help him.

The odd energy pulses again, threading through the air between the two of you, as neither one pulls away. His dark gaze is on you, hesitant, as if he's waiting for something you can't see. Some subtle que or tick that only he knows.

The spicy smell of Javier's aftershave floods into your nose, familiar in the best way, and the feeling of the warmth of his body only inches away makes your brain short circuit.

For the first time in the three years that you'd worked for Javier, you don't feel like his awkward secretary, because the way that he's looking at you… it makes you feel like more.

Javier leans forward just a hair, your hand still resting on his shirt, and brushes his lips against yours, eyes open, gauging your reaction. A sigh works it's way through your parted lips as you sink into the kiss, the hand you have resting on his shirt curling enough to feel the subtle shift of his muscles move and it's exactly what Javier needed.

His lips fall against yours with fervor, hands skating down the fabric of your sweater and finding your hips with ease, before he pulls you into his lap, not breaking the kiss.

It's unlike anything you could have imagined, more than any fantasy you could have made up in your head. The feeling of his supple lips, the tickle of his mustache, the warmth that surges up, up, up in a fluid wave through your body, the taste of the peppermint and stale coffee-

It’s addictive, maddening, hypnotic.

He groans into your mouth, the sound not unlike what he made moments ago, his hands subtly pushing up the edge of your sweater to find the heated skin of your waist fueling the spark that burns through your body. Goosebumps trace along your flesh with a heavy hand, the white hot fire that comes with the feeling of his skin on yours traveling from the base of your throat to the pit of your stomach.

“Javi-“ You breathe his name on a gasp, earning a groan from the man beneath you as he pulls you harder against him, moving his lips down the column of your throat into the shadow of your jaw whispering things in Spanish that you can’t understand. Your hands move up the expanse of his chest and find refuge in his hair, the dark locks falling beneath your fingertips, soft and curled slightly on the ends. Your name comes out of his mouth in a throaty whisper, rumbling up through where your chest is pressed against his.

You'd never heard anyone say it like that before, almost reverent, cherished, like you're his. As if after all this time you've always been his and it's always led to this moment. And it makes something inside break open and flood into the cavity of your chest.

Then all at once he stops, pulling back from you, pupils dilated slightly, looking at you in a daze, his chest rising and falling in rapid gasps.

“We shouldn’t- I shouldn’t.” His voice comes out in a hoarse whisper.

The embarrassment is back tenfold, because now that you’d felt him under you, felt the urgency of his touch against your body, his lips soft against your mouth you don’t know how the hell you’re going to do anything else whenever you see him.

“I'm sorry-“ You mutter before you can stop it, and try to move back off of him, misunderstanding what he means.

Javier kisses you again, holding you firmly on his lap, eyes darker than you'd ever seen them.

“Please stop apologizing.” He murmurs against your lips. “I meant that I don’t want it to happen like this. I at least want to take you out to dinner first. You're-" Javier swallows. "You deserve that."

You blink in surprise. It wasn't that you thought Javier wasn't a gentleman, it was that you weren't expecting him to say something like that. Not when there was no one left in the entire embassy and he didn't have to stop...

But with this pause, reality came roaring back in.

He's my boss. What would other people say?

“Are you sure that’s not a bad idea?” Your fingers gently move through the strands of hair at the back of his head, which makes Javier sigh and lean into your touch.

“It’s the worst idea. Been trying to not ask you out for three years.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Javier chuckles

“It is a bad idea.” You bite the inside of your cheek.

It was. Beyond bad. Practically forbidden. Not to mention you knew for a fact that Javier would probably think you were just too weird and awkward to care about a follow up date and then it would ruin the relationship the two of you had.

But you wanted to say yes. That's an understatement, you wanted to scream yes from the mountaintops and perform a rendition of "The Hills Are Alive" with Julie Andrews.

"Terrible, cariño." Javier smirks a little wider, the grip he has on your waist tightening with a promise that flashes in his dark eyes.

“Maybe not coffee.” You say hesitantly.

"Yeah, that'd probably be safer.” Javier admits. “Though I think if I took you out for a drink there’s always the possibility you could spill your martini and stab me with an olive skewer.”

Your cheeks heat in embarrassment.

"But it's worth the risk." He murmurs leaning his forehead against yours.

"Some things always are." You echo with a soft smile, listening to the rumble of thunder shaking the brick, mortar, and glass of the embassy. The rest of the world melting away and leaving you just with Javi for a few precious moments when all hell rages outside the white washed walls and musty carpets.

Anything can happen in a thunderstorm, you just never imagined something like this.

A/N: Again Alex congratulations on the 5k and giving me such an inspirational gif for your challenge! It was fun for him, and of course to watch some Narcos again 🥰

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated! The comments really keep me going!

Taglist:

@angrydragon90 @jollyhunter @kmc1989

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Pedro Pascal Characters Masterlist

All fics are xf!reader

Worth The Risk: When you and your boss get stuck working late at the Embassy, a heated accident makes the two of you realize that maybe some things are worth the risk.

Coming Soon…

Sugar, Spice and Starlight: When you decided to move to Nevarro to open a bakery the last thing you expected was to fall in love with a grumpy Mandalorian. Takes place following Season 3, after Din moved to Nevarro and has been living there with Grogu. This is just a collection of one-shots that all take place in the same world. Listed in Chronological Order!

All Pictures On Moodboard Are From Pinterest

Last Updated: 07/07/2025

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@bronzepascal

Oh goodness, don't get me started thinking about another WIP LOL🤣🤣 But, I will say that I do really love how this one turned out and I am hoping to come back to this couple eventually. Thank you so much for reblogging! 💗

Worth The Risk

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: When you and your boss get stuck working late at the Embassy, a heated accident makes the two of you realize that maybe some things are worth the risk. Written for @zepskies 5K follower celebration!

Tropes: Little tiny bit of grumpy sunshine, Tiny bit of shy/awkward reader, Boss and Secretary Dynamic, Soft! Javier. Mutual Pining.

Word Count: 4.6K

Warnings: I'm labelling this one as 18+ (just in case)! Sexual situationish? Cursing, Super awkward situation, Make out session, References to sex (there's quite a bit), References to Javi being a tiny bit of a slut *said affectionately* (because we all love him for it), Loverboy! Javi, Accidental Handjob (I don't know what to call it)? Reader is kinda awkward, Reader has anxiety, Reader being a little bit self-deprecating? Reader has a bit of a developed backstory for the fic, Javier being a little bit self-deprecating? Javier might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is no use of y/n! I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite! I have never written for Javier before, so please, PLEASE be gentle.

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

A/N: Alright Alex, happy 5k! This one rolled out of me due to the very, VERY inspirational gif that you sent me (still can't look at it for too long without stroking out 🤣). I'll have to return the favor someday 😈 But to everyone else, this one is really just something silly that was living rent free in my head so enjoy!

There is something magical about rain.

The gentle patter against a rooftop like a soothing melody, the racing droplets down a window that you can trace with your fingertips, the distant rumble of thunder over the mountains shaking through the lush green forests, the heady smell of rain that comes moments before a downpour, the flash of lightning that captures the world in shades of black and white- it makes the rest of the world melt away, isolates you to one single place to bask in the enchanting sounds and beauty of it all.

Anything can happen in a thunderstorm.

Of course there are some things that are not magical about rain.

The feeling of the cold droplets slipping below your collar and trickling down your spine, the squish of your soaked socks and shoes when you step into a puddle that was a little deeper than you thought it was, the flash of lightning above your head that is a little too close for comfort followed the deep crack of thunder…

Or when you’re fighting for your life with a stubborn umbrella in a heavy downpour that won’t do the one job it was literally made for and you end up looking like a drowned rat by the time you get to where you were going, and you’re too embarrassed to go in so you just turn to take the walk of shame home, and end up running into your “so sexy it should be a crime” boss.

Not speaking from personal experience or anything…

The raging thunderstorm that pummeled and shook the American Embassy was trying it's best to rival the storm that Noah survived, and was also unfortunately keeping you from your warm bed past midnight on a Tuesday.

An umbrella would have been worthless at this point given that the rain seemed to be coming up from the ground and because your ancient Nova had refused to start this morning and you'd walked to work, you were stuck.

But you didn't mind staying late for one reason:

Javier Peña

The level of crush you had on your boss was shameful, but you hadn't meant for this to happen, honest! He was just, so, so…

Javier sighs where he sits at his desk, leaning back to prop his feet up on the strong metal table top while the muscles of his right arm strain against the sleeve of his orange button up, making your throat constrict.

Sexy.

Which yes, maybe it was a bit of a cliché, a secretary falling in love with her boss that was way out of her league in every single way, but you were.

Sure Javier had a reputation with women. Goodness knows you had heard every single scandalous whisper about his numerous escapades and seen every sultry look from the women who passed by the office hoping to catch a glimpse of your boss hard at work. The same women who told you how lucky you were to work with Javier and how jealous they were of you.

They didn't need to be. You knew for a fact that Javier didn't see you as more than just his secretary.

How you ask? Because of the way he treated you.

You'd seen Javier charming someone back to his apartment- the moves, the smirk, the mischievous glint in his whiskey colored eyes when he knew he had someone on the hook, and the low rumble of his chuckle that made you lose all feeling in your legs. You'd seen the same song and dance at every Christmas, New Years, and whatever other holiday that you were celebrating at the Embassy party.

But around you, Javier was a different man.

Yes he still had the same charm, but he was softer. He genuinely would ask you how your day was going whenever he walked by, listened to you whisper whatever gossip you picked up at the water cooler on the fifth floor or in the break room and laughed with you, suggested places to order lunch from where he knew you would find something too, walked with you to your car when it was late, and whenever he went out with Steve he always brought something back for you, whether it be a nice cup of well-needed coffee or a Cocada from your favorite bakery down the street.

He was a good boss. Anyone would be lucky to work with him.

Plus you'd seen the kind of women he was interested in and you weren't one of them. You weren't confident or outgoing. Sure you'd speak to your boss, Steve, and a few people around the office when you had to, but you were not okay with just striking up a conversation or joining a group mid-sentence because that was like a suicide mission. Plus being as clumsy as you were, you'd probably take a few steps towards the group then eat it on the musty carpets.

And you certainly didn't dress like any of them- well, some of them dressed for their profession and that was okay, but you definitely couldn't imagine wearing anything like that around the office.

Your wardrobe consisted of oversized sweaters, long flowy skirts, and soft dresses that draped rather than squeezed your boobs into submission and didn't prop them up to say "hello." But you wanted to be comfy at work because you were there so many hours during the day and you didn't think that you'd be able to breathe if you wore anything tight when you sat down.

That wasn't to say that you didn't "try" when you were at work, just that your sense of style was more… reserved than the women you saw Javier gravitate towards.

So basically you were trying to not be attracted to your boss, and after three years all your crush had done was triple in size and follow you around like a smelly water buffalo.

Javier sighs again, drawing your gaze up from the stack of notes you were organizing into chronological order for him. His eyes skate over to you, a weary smile twitching at the end of his lips before his attention drops back to the folder perched in his lap.

Everyone else had gone home for the night, and usually by now Javier would have gone too, but he had a meeting with Ambassador Noonan in the morning and was trying to prepare.

Maybe he needs some coffee.

You think to yourself as you rise from your cluttered desk making your way to the small break room two rooms down the corridor, not noticing the way Javier's eyes follow you.

He had told you to go home earlier, told you that he had this handled, but you refused. Javier didn’t understand why you wouldn't go, but he was happy you didn't, because it meant that he got to be with you for just a few more hours than normal. Got to hear your soft sigh as your shuffled through papers, got to see the way your face got that cute scrunch when you were concentrating, and got to smell the bright mist of your citrus perfume whenever you walked by. The same perfume that he had to stop himself from trying to gulp down from the air like a man dying of thirst in the dessert, because the way you smelled was like a drug to him. It made him feel like an addict of the worst kind.

And then also made him feel like the scummiest guy on the planet because he was your boss and shouldn't be having any of those thoughts about you, but he couldn't help it. Not when since the first day he met you, Javier felt his dead heart start to beat again. Not when being in the same room with you was like standing too close to the sun, blinded and filled with so much heat he thought it would all come pouring out of him like molten lava.

Javier Peña had it bad. Steve often teased him about it and Javi shrugged him off, but Javier knew in his heart that there wasn't much he could do to change it.

Because he wanted more, but he knew that he shouldn't.

You busy yourself with the steps of making coffee. Measuring out the grounds, filling the pot with water, etc. And when you have two mugs filled to the brim with the elixir of life, you turn to go back to the office.

Unfortunately what you didn't know is that Javier came to see what you were doing, and at the exact moment you turn around with much more enthusiasm than someone should have at 12:39 on a Tuesday night/Wednesday morning, Javier enters the room.

You crash into him, pouring the entire contents of both mugs onto the front of his shirt and down his pants.

Javier makes a sound like a wounded animal.

Coming from someone who had been shot in the past, you now knew that taking scalding hot coffee seemed to be the same level of pain as a bullet wound.

"Shit!" You scream, placing the empty mugs on the counter before turning back to note the prominent stain all over Javier's lower stomach and the front of his blue jeans.

Before Javier can reach for the paper towels to clean himself, your hand comes down hard on the center of his chest, stress fueled anxiety giving you almost superhuman strength as you shove him backwards into one of the plastic chairs that sit idle around the pathetic table.

A startled yelp comes through Javier's lips as he stumbles back in surprise, landing unceremoniously in a chair, stunned. You don’t give him time to process the events that happened in the last three seconds, before you're dropping to your knees in front of him, paper towel roll in hand, scrubbing furiously at his lap.

"Oh fuck, Mr. Peña I am so SO sorry!" You babble, working your hands back and forth on the front of his pants, leaning over him. "I didn’t know that you were coming in here and I wanted to make us some coffee because I know that you've been working so hard tonight and-"

Javier groans low under his breath. "It's okay I-" He tries to push you away, but you continue to dab and wipe at the coffee that has soaked through his jeans.

"It's not okay! You could have second or third degree burns." You stare up at him wide eyed.

One of his hands is fisted on his knee, the other gripping the plastic edge of the table like a lifeline, his jaw clenched tight as you work your hands over him.

"I'm fine-" He says through gritted teeth, brown eyes flashing with something that looks a lot like pain.

Maybe we should go to the hospital!

"No, you're not here-" You prop yourself up, placing your hands on Javier's muscular thighs, your face level with his crotch, and blow.

Javier's body constricts, his knuckles turning white from grabbing the table.

"Is that better?" You look up at him again, eyes wide and hopeful, anxiety and embarrassment flooding the synapses in your brain. You were so worried of Javier being in pain, of him being hurt, that you weren't considering the opposite.

Because Javier Peña is trying not to come in his pants like a damn teenager.

He lets out a strangled sound, but doesn't answer, so you try again, blowing over his crotch and hoping that it soothes the scalded flesh.

“You have to stop-“ Javier says in a breathy whisper, face contorting in something that looks like pain. His dark hair is scrunched and wild, sweat beading along his forehead, and his eyes squeezed shut as if he can’t look at you.

Can you sue someone for spilling coffee on you?

“Don’t worry I think I can get it all off!” You say, beginning to frantically dab at his pants again.

Javier was in hell… but fuck it felt a lot like heaven.

He was trying his best not to focus on what you were doing. His mind flitting from photos of M-19 personnel massacred by Pablo Escobar, photos of plane crash victims, memories of drug busts, to other images of whatever else could take his mind off of what was happening in his lap, but nothing was working.

Not when you were kneeling in front of him, eyes wide with fear and worry for him, wearing one of those handmade oversized sweaters that Javier thought made you look unbelievably cute, soft hands rubbing, dabbing, and squeezing him, your cool breath rushing through his coffee soaked pants, and with you apologizing over and over in that sweet voice of yours.

The same one that Javi tried not to think about in the dead of night when all was quiet and he was alone, when another voice inside his head (that sounded remarkably like Steve) told him not to start something with his secretary-

But Javi couldn't help it.

You were unlike anyone he'd met in his entire life. You were soft, kind, generous, with a smile that always made something deep inside Javi break whenever you looked at him. The same smile that he sought after a day without end, because it was the only thing that made him feel like what he was doing meant something after years of him sinking deeper into the mire.

The moment that you started working for him, Javier found himself excited to come to work and that was something that warranted a whole fleet of flying pigs.

You shouldn't be working here, let alone living here. Whenever you didn't show up to work or were a few minutes late Javier's mind went right to the worst, that something had happened to you. That someone had done something and he was too late, because Colombia chewed up and spat out the kind of person you were.

It was why he couldn't bear the thought of you walking alone to your car after work, and why he seemed to be in the same neighborhood on the weekends when you made your way to the market down the street from your apartment to go grocery shopping. It was also why he was trying his best to keep his distance from you, because someone like you had no business being with someone like him.

"Fuck." Javi half moans, because he can’t keep it in.

You look up at him,  still frantically wiping the front of his pants with a coffee stained paper towel. Javier isn't looking at you, his head is tilted upwards at the ceiling and his eyes are squeezed shut, sweat beading along his hairline, breath coming in shallow gasps.

"Shit, Javi I'm so, so sorry. I know it hurts. I'm going to go get some ice." You try to rise from the ground, but Javier's hand comes down on your shoulder to stop you.

"Please don't." His teeth are gritted together.

"But you're hurt. You could have a burn or-"

"I don't."

"How do you know?"

"Cariño-" Javier chuckles, his eyes blink open, turning a honeyed whiskey in the light. "I stopped thinking about that the second you dropped to your knees and started cleaning me up. It doesn’t hurt. And if you keep doing what you’re doing we’re going to have a bigger problem.”

“What do you mea-“

It still doesn't dawn on you what he's talking about or why he would stop thinking about hot coffee burning him until your gaze lowers again to his lap.

Anything you’re about to say evaporates from the tip of your tongue.

In your eagerness and embarrassment, you'd forgotten exactly what it would have felt like for him when you scrubbed, dabbed, and blew on the front of his pants for the past two minutes.

Oh. My. Damn.

You think to yourself as you see the outline of Javier's large erection straining against the zipper of his coffee stained jeans.

How does he- nope nope not thinking about that right now.

By now your face is so warm with embarrassment you're sure that if someone were to crack an egg it would be fried to perfection in seconds. The heat rivals the eruption of mount Vesuvius, rivals the surface of the sun if someone ran a train full of gasoline into it. There is no coming back from this, no rock big enough to hide under, no cave dark and deep enough to cover your shame.

You lean back on your heels, dropping your face into your hands. "I am so sorry-" The word had lost all meaning given how many times you'd said it within the last five minutes, but given the situation, you had no idea what to say.

To say you were mortified was an understatement. You were so embarrassed that you wanted the faded musty maroon carpet to come up and swallow you whole, so embarrassed that you wanted to go outside, open your mouth, and see if you could drown in the heavy downpour.

I'm never going to be able to show my face here again. I'm going to have to quit my job and change my name. And without a job I'll never have enough money to pay my rent or feed my cat, and if I can't feed my cat he's going to eat my face while I'm sleeping and-

Javier coughs out a laugh, the same one that usually made you feel like you'd swallowed sunshine, but not now. Especially not now not when you could call your own time of death.

You could imagine the gravestone:

Here lies so and so died, when she accidentally gave her boss a handjob.

You could also imagine the ridiculous rumors that would stem from this moment. The things that everyone would say about you the second they found out about this.

You can’t move, can’t even breathe.

The longer you sit there the worse you feel. Embarrassment, shame, and anxiety prickles along your skin, jumping and crackling through every nerve ending, making tears burn in your eyes. You wanted to curl up into a little ball under your desk and rot.

It was the single most embarrassing moment of your life and you knew that there would be no other event that would ever top it.

Javier slides out of his chair to kneel in front of you, whispering your name, but you can't look at him, can't do anything.

The thought of running outside into the thunderstorm crosses your mind, but you’d worn heels today and you didn’t think you’d get far running. And it would have been even more embarrassing if you slipped and busted your nose open on the marble floor in the lobby, because you knew that Javier would insist on driving you to the hospital and you didn’t want to sit through that car ride if your life depended on it.

He says your name again, this time gently pulling your hands from your face.  “Why are you crying?” Worry flickers behind his golden gaze, thumbs brushing over the soft skin of your wrists.

“Because I’m embarrassed. I mean I touched you- touched it- I-“

My great grandchildren will still feel my shame. It will haunt them from beyond my grave. They won’t know a moment of peace!

“If anyone should be embarrassed it’s me.” Javier chuckles.

“I don’t think you still have enough of a sense of shame for that Mr. Peña.” You sniffle out a laugh.

It was true. You knew his reputation, had heard the rumor mill a hundred times over, not to mention you had fielded a number of angry phone calls directed at your boss all of whom you’d told them that Javier wasn’t there, while he stood there and made frantic gestures with his hands.

“Oh back to Mr. Peña I see.” He brushes a strand of hair out of your face. Javier's touch trails sparks against your skin, making your throat tight.

“Huh?" You blink in confusion.

“A minute ago you called me Javi.”

"I did?”

It was hard to think when he was still holding one of your wrists in his warm calloused hands. The same hands worn rough from years of holding a gun, and the ones that had only ever treated you with kindness in the three years that you'd worked for him.

"I don't think I've ever heard you call me anything other than 'Mr. Peña' since you got hired." He raises an eyebrow, signature smirk in place.

"Oh well- that's because I- um. You're my boss and I- I ."

I don’t want to get used to calling you anything else because then I won’t be able to stop.

"I like it when you call me Javi." His fingers trace across your chin, making your cheeks heat.

Any semblance of shame or embarrassment that you felt was quickly fading away with his touch. It was the most that he'd ever touched you, except for the few accidental brushes of your fingertips whenever you handed him things, or whenever he somehow was grocery shopping at the same market and he would gently place his hand on the small of your back to lead you through the crowded stalls.

You never understood why he shopped there too. It was thirty minutes in the opposite direction of where he lived.

This isn't happening. This is just a daydream I'm having and-

“But I don’t like it when you cry.” Javier’s mouth pulls down into a frown. “I promise it’s okay-“

“I’m sorry-” You wipe at your eyes with the back of your free hand.

You couldn't seem to stop saying it. But again you honestly didn't know what else to say. Sorry seemed to cover a multitude of sins. Not to mention the way that Javier was touching you and looking at you right now, and the energy that seemed to pulse and thrum through the air was making your head a little fuzzy.

Before you can say or do anything more, Javier leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead. “You have nothing to be sorry about. You were just trying to help.”

Your hand falls automatically to the front of Javier's orange button up, gasping softly in surprise. He freezes, eyes wide as if he can’t believe that he did it either.

And he can't. Javier didn't meant to, but he can't stand to see you cry. Not when each time you did, it was like the sun was hidden behind the clouds and not when it was like a piece of himself was dying. And he didn't think that you should be embarrassed about this, because you were honestly just trying to help him.

The odd energy pulses again, threading through the air between the two of you, as neither one pulls away. His dark gaze is on you, hesitant, as if he's waiting for something you can't see. Some subtle que or tick that only he knows.

The spicy smell of Javier's aftershave floods into your nose, familiar in the best way, and the feeling of the warmth of his body only inches away makes your brain short circuit.

For the first time in the three years that you'd worked for Javier, you don't feel like his awkward secretary, because the way that he's looking at you… it makes you feel like more.

Javier leans forward just a hair, your hand still resting on his shirt, and brushes his lips against yours, eyes open, gauging your reaction. A sigh works it's way through your parted lips as you sink into the kiss, the hand you have resting on his shirt curling enough to feel the subtle shift of his muscles move and it's exactly what Javier needed.

His lips fall against yours with fervor, hands skating down the fabric of your sweater and finding your hips with ease, before he pulls you into his lap, not breaking the kiss.

It's unlike anything you could have imagined, more than any fantasy you could have made up in your head. The feeling of his supple lips, the tickle of his mustache, the warmth that surges up, up, up in a fluid wave through your body, the taste of the peppermint and stale coffee-

It’s addictive, maddening, hypnotic.

He groans into your mouth, the sound not unlike what he made moments ago, his hands subtly pushing up the edge of your sweater to find the heated skin of your waist fueling the spark that burns through your body. Goosebumps trace along your flesh with a heavy hand, the white hot fire that comes with the feeling of his skin on yours traveling from the base of your throat to the pit of your stomach.

“Javi-“ You breathe his name on a gasp, earning a groan from the man beneath you as he pulls you harder against him, moving his lips down the column of your throat into the shadow of your jaw whispering things in Spanish that you can’t understand. Your hands move up the expanse of his chest and find refuge in his hair, the dark locks falling beneath your fingertips, soft and curled slightly on the ends. Your name comes out of his mouth in a throaty whisper, rumbling up through where your chest is pressed against his.

You'd never heard anyone say it like that before, almost reverent, cherished, like you're his. As if after all this time you've always been his and it's always led to this moment. And it makes something inside break open and flood into the cavity of your chest.

Then all at once he stops, pulling back from you, pupils dilated slightly, looking at you in a daze, his chest rising and falling in rapid gasps.

“We shouldn’t- I shouldn’t.” His voice comes out in a hoarse whisper.

The embarrassment is back tenfold, because now that you’d felt him under you, felt the urgency of his touch against your body, his lips soft against your mouth you don’t know how the hell you’re going to do anything else whenever you see him.

“I'm sorry-“ You mutter before you can stop it, and try to move back off of him, misunderstanding what he means.

Javier kisses you again, holding you firmly on his lap, eyes darker than you'd ever seen them.

“Please stop apologizing.” He murmurs against your lips. “I meant that I don’t want it to happen like this. I at least want to take you out to dinner first. You're-" Javier swallows. "You deserve that."

You blink in surprise. It wasn't that you thought Javier wasn't a gentleman, it was that you weren't expecting him to say something like that. Not when there was no one left in the entire embassy and he didn't have to stop...

But with this pause, reality came roaring back in.

He's my boss. What would other people say?

“Are you sure that’s not a bad idea?” Your fingers gently move through the strands of hair at the back of his head, which makes Javier sigh and lean into your touch.

“It’s the worst idea. Been trying to not ask you out for three years.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Javier chuckles

“It is a bad idea.” You bite the inside of your cheek.

It was. Beyond bad. Practically forbidden. Not to mention you knew for a fact that Javier would probably think you were just too weird and awkward to care about a follow up date and then it would ruin the relationship the two of you had.

But you wanted to say yes. That's an understatement, you wanted to scream yes from the mountaintops and perform a rendition of "The Hills Are Alive" with Julie Andrews.

"Terrible, cariño." Javier smirks a little wider, the grip he has on your waist tightening with a promise that flashes in his dark eyes.

“Maybe not coffee.” You say hesitantly.

"Yeah, that'd probably be safer.” Javier admits. “Though I think if I took you out for a drink there’s always the possibility you could spill your martini and stab me with an olive skewer.”

Your cheeks heat in embarrassment.

"But it's worth the risk." He murmurs leaning his forehead against yours.

"Some things always are." You echo with a soft smile, listening to the rumble of thunder shaking the brick, mortar, and glass of the embassy. The rest of the world melting away and leaving you just with Javi for a few precious moments when all hell rages outside the white washed walls and musty carpets.

Anything can happen in a thunderstorm, you just never imagined something like this.

A/N: Again Alex congratulations on the 5k and giving me such an inspirational gif for your challenge! It was fun for him, and of course to watch some Narcos again 🥰

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated! The comments really keep me going!

Taglist:

@angrydragon90 @jollyhunter @kmc1989

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@starwarslover-81

🥹 Thank you sweetie! This one has been such a fun series to work on and it's been even better because of wonderful people like yourself that have left such lovely feedback and support! Thank you so much!

Sugar, Spice, And Starlight

Pairing: Din Djarin xf!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When you decided to move to Nevarro to open a bakery the last thing you expected was to fall in love with a grumpy Mandalorian. Takes place following Season 3, after Din moved to Nevarro and has been living there with Grogu. This is just a collection of one-shots that all take place in the same world. Listed in Chronological Order!

Tropes: Mutual Pining, Fluff, Angst, Bakery AU, Soft Reader! Grumpy vs. Sunshine

Warnings: Individual warnings will be in issued in each chapter. The reader is not described any way, but is soft. Din is a little OOC. Please be gentle this is the first time that I've ever written for him.

Where'd You Come From?: An adorable customer wanders into your bakery and introduces you to someone you've never met, who piques your curiosity.

What Is This Feeling?: Din can't seem to stop running in to you, and he can't figure out why he likes it.

Didn’t Anyone Warn You?: When you're tasked with bringing pastries to Parent's Night at the local school, a guest appearance makes quite a stir.

What Did I Say? : A trip to the market takes a turn for the worst when you run into a bounty hunter that doesn't take no for an answer.

What Did I Do?: When your brother drops in for a surprise visit, it has an odd effect on Din that you can't understand.

He's Your What?: When you finally get the courage to confront Din, you find him in a vulnerable position.

What Are We Doing? : Moving is hard, but being in love with your roommate is even harder.

Last Updated On: 06/14/2025

Taglist:

@jollyhunter @scoliobean @pressedwater @littlebear423 @bookloverkat

@scorpio-echo @windsweptarmadillo @foxin5billion @silas-aeiou

@mezzprior @st0nedbitch @elita1 @aegoniipascal @tiedyedghoulette

@flowerydindjarin @carolineesnell @cl0udl3ss-sky

@dotyoureyez @sunflowerfive @fefa-la-printcessa @sonthingwithl

@heartfluttered @alastorfang

If you'd like to be added to the taglist for the Sugar, Spice, And Starlight Universe, please let me know :)

(Photos On Mood Board From Pinterest)

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Hey girl how you doing ? 😎 random question but do you have any plans on putting all your stories on ao3?

Being able to save some of my favorite ones have honestly given me life lol

(Ps don’t worry about me publishing them on anything, they’re just for my enjoyment cause I love them)

Hi! I'm doing really well! A little tired, but that's to be expected lol. Sorry this took me so long to answer, things have been kinda crazy recently 😅

Okay about ao3. I do want to put more of them on there, the problem is that I genuinely haven't had the time to focus on learning how to use ao3 properly. Each time I try to upload a new story I get a little bit confused. I'm so bad with technology sometimes 😅 but I'm hoping that I will be able to carve out some time to understand it better soon!

Ps: I hope that you're doing good too sweetie 💗

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@zepskies

Hello my lovely friend! Finally getting to take a breather to dive into your wonderful comments 🥰 It was such a joy to write this one and be apart of your summer challenge!

Oooh what a nostalgic, atmospheric start. I love watching rain sometimes, and I could see every image you were painting in my head. But also -

I love watching rain too- from the warmth of home not from my car when I'm about to walk into work 😭 But there's just something about rain, especially when you've got a nice blanket and a good book *sigh*...

Nice metaphor there loll - but now I'm kinda grateful for the storm. Keeping her locked in staying late with her boss, you say? 😏

Thank you! The ultimate thunderstorm I believe, probably the most famous lol. But yes! Stuck with her too sexy to be legal boss... alone... with no witnesses... what a terrible situation 😉

I'm salivating at this description already lmfaoo. Got a feeling she's going to change his mind about how he sees her pretty soon...

I literally see Javi as the person at all the holiday parties that shows up because he has to (complained the whole ride there), but then he spends the whole time just being a menace to all the women that came. He's got that irresistible energy and sexiness that you can't say no to.

Aww not a clumsy socially awkward secretary loll, but honestly I find these characters endearing when you can see they have a caring heart, as they tend to do. It's actually a nice twist on how secretaries are usually portrayed -- all sexy and confident and after their married-man boss. 😅

I really do too! I have seen so much of the super sexy secretary, and I wanted her to be a little different. Mostly because I'm such a sucker for a super cocky/sexy guy falling for a shy and awkward girlie... As a shy and awkward girlie I do know that it is self-indulgent, but sue me LOL 🤣

Oooh he's got it bad for her lollll. Once you're addicted to her perfume, you're cooked, my friend 😏

Ohhh yeah, he doesn't have a chance. His amygdala is already programed just for her 🤣

lmfao OH NOOO. NOT THE HOT COFFEE TO THE CROTCH. 😭🤣 Reminds me of that scene when Carillo was torturing that sicario by splashing scalding hot coffee in his face 😅 But dear Lord, reader doesn't make it better for Javi, does she? 🤭 I cackled madly throughout that entire scene! lmaooo

I was THINKING of that scene when I wrote it!! Because oh my word that was so painful watching Carillo do that... but at the same time I love him too so I can't be too mad 🤣 Another morally gray man to obsess over 🥰

But I was cackling the whole time I wrote it too 🤣 Javi literally trying to hold on and be a gentleman and her being so adorably awkward while trying to make it better, but making it so much worse 😭

Aaand that's when I melted into a puddle of fluff - poor guy been through it 🥲

He really has and seeing him throughout the show try his best and along the way do so much for so little was so disheartening. Not to mention that they might try to make Javi a sexy playboy, but he has a heart. He cares about other people and you can see how much his job wears on him. 🥹

Literally was just thinking this about the reader. She's such a rare personality to find in this place and time and context, so it actually makes sense that Javi would be drawn to - and at the same time want to keep away from - a woman like her.

She is! That's another reason why I wrote her that way, because I felt like it would activate that protective instinct in Javi. Not to mention I was just losing it over Javi melting/being soft for a shy girlie. Also because I have this idea that Javi (like Dean) is riding the "i'm not worthy of love given what I've done" bus 🥹

Ay, pobrecita lolll I want to give her a hug too at this point 🤣🤣🤣 but I love how gentle he is with her in this moment. 💓 What a good sport! lol

She was not having a good day, but Javi really did know exactly how to make her feel better. He's more than just a playboy, he has feelings and he cares about people. We all see that with the way he treats Helena in literally the second episode and it just continues on through the show. I love him so much, he's such a well written complex character.

Gahhhhh yes pls - love a guiding touch on the small of the back 😮‍💨

*Sigh* I KNOWWWWW. Ugh. Its so good, gets me every time. It's really the non-sexual forms of intimacy that in fics and books that just destroys me emotionally, more than the sexual intimacy.

Hehee oh what a terrible idea, but very much totally worth it. 😏 (And LOL probs for the best they don't go out for coffee 😆)

The worst idea in history 😏 Bro no, no coffee ever again. She's going to wince every time that she brings him some in the morning LOL 🤣

This is such a fun one-shot, my friend! I can't get enough of Javi being sexy and a little soft at the same time -- for the right person 💗 Thanks again so much for participating in the writing challenge!! I'm really looking forward to working on my requests for you too - for Javi and Joel!! 💕

Aww yay! I love that side of him too and I'm so happy that you enjoyed it Alex and sent me all these lovely comments (and sent me the gif lol) 🥰🫂 And you're welcome! I had such a fun time writing it that I started working on another Javi Fic that has much more angst (as per usual) 😅. And I'm looking forward to seeing what you come up with- no pressure of course love, I know they'll be amazing no matter what!

Worth The Risk

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: When you and your boss get stuck working late at the Embassy, a heated accident makes the two of you realize that maybe some things are worth the risk. Written for @zepskies 5K follower celebration!

Tropes: Little tiny bit of grumpy sunshine, Tiny bit of shy/awkward reader, Boss and Secretary Dynamic, Soft! Javier. Mutual Pining.

Word Count: 4.6K

Warnings: I'm labelling this one as 18+ (just in case)! Sexual situationish? Cursing, Super awkward situation, Make out session, References to sex (there's quite a bit), References to Javi being a tiny bit of a slut *said affectionately* (because we all love him for it), Loverboy! Javi, Accidental Handjob (I don't know what to call it)? Reader is kinda awkward, Reader has anxiety, Reader being a little bit self-deprecating? Reader has a bit of a developed backstory for the fic, Javier being a little bit self-deprecating? Javier might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is no use of y/n! I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite! I have never written for Javier before, so please, PLEASE be gentle.

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

A/N: Alright Alex, happy 5k! This one rolled out of me due to the very, VERY inspirational gif that you sent me (still can't look at it for too long without stroking out 🤣). I'll have to return the favor someday 😈 But to everyone else, this one is really just something silly that was living rent free in my head so enjoy!

There is something magical about rain.

The gentle patter against a rooftop like a soothing melody, the racing droplets down a window that you can trace with your fingertips, the distant rumble of thunder over the mountains shaking through the lush green forests, the heady smell of rain that comes moments before a downpour, the flash of lightning that captures the world in shades of black and white- it makes the rest of the world melt away, isolates you to one single place to bask in the enchanting sounds and beauty of it all.

Anything can happen in a thunderstorm.

Of course there are some things that are not magical about rain.

The feeling of the cold droplets slipping below your collar and trickling down your spine, the squish of your soaked socks and shoes when you step into a puddle that was a little deeper than you thought it was, the flash of lightning above your head that is a little too close for comfort followed the deep crack of thunder…

Or when you’re fighting for your life with a stubborn umbrella in a heavy downpour that won’t do the one job it was literally made for and you end up looking like a drowned rat by the time you get to where you were going, and you’re too embarrassed to go in so you just turn to take the walk of shame home, and end up running into your “so sexy it should be a crime” boss.

Not speaking from personal experience or anything…

The raging thunderstorm that pummeled and shook the American Embassy was trying it's best to rival the storm that Noah survived, and was also unfortunately keeping you from your warm bed past midnight on a Tuesday.

An umbrella would have been worthless at this point given that the rain seemed to be coming up from the ground and because your ancient Nova had refused to start this morning and you'd walked to work, you were stuck.

But you didn't mind staying late for one reason:

Javier Peña

The level of crush you had on your boss was shameful, but you hadn't meant for this to happen, honest! He was just, so, so…

Javier sighs where he sits at his desk, leaning back to prop his feet up on the strong metal table top while the muscles of his right arm strain against the sleeve of his orange button up, making your throat constrict.

Sexy.

Which yes, maybe it was a bit of a cliché, a secretary falling in love with her boss that was way out of her league in every single way, but you were.

Sure Javier had a reputation with women. Goodness knows you had heard every single scandalous whisper about his numerous escapades and seen every sultry look from the women who passed by the office hoping to catch a glimpse of your boss hard at work. The same women who told you how lucky you were to work with Javier and how jealous they were of you.

They didn't need to be. You knew for a fact that Javier didn't see you as more than just his secretary.

How you ask? Because of the way he treated you.

You'd seen Javier charming someone back to his apartment- the moves, the smirk, the mischievous glint in his whiskey colored eyes when he knew he had someone on the hook, and the low rumble of his chuckle that made you lose all feeling in your legs. You'd seen the same song and dance at every Christmas, New Years, and whatever other holiday that you were celebrating at the Embassy party.

But around you, Javier was a different man.

Yes he still had the same charm, but he was softer. He genuinely would ask you how your day was going whenever he walked by, listened to you whisper whatever gossip you picked up at the water cooler on the fifth floor or in the break room and laughed with you, suggested places to order lunch from where he knew you would find something too, walked with you to your car when it was late, and whenever he went out with Steve he always brought something back for you, whether it be a nice cup of well-needed coffee or a Cocada from your favorite bakery down the street.

He was a good boss. Anyone would be lucky to work with him.

Plus you'd seen the kind of women he was interested in and you weren't one of them. You weren't confident or outgoing. Sure you'd speak to your boss, Steve, and a few people around the office when you had to, but you were not okay with just striking up a conversation or joining a group mid-sentence because that was like a suicide mission. Plus being as clumsy as you were, you'd probably take a few steps towards the group then eat it on the musty carpets.

And you certainly didn't dress like any of them- well, some of them dressed for their profession and that was okay, but you definitely couldn't imagine wearing anything like that around the office.

Your wardrobe consisted of oversized sweaters, long flowy skirts, and soft dresses that draped rather than squeezed your boobs into submission and didn't prop them up to say "hello." But you wanted to be comfy at work because you were there so many hours during the day and you didn't think that you'd be able to breathe if you wore anything tight when you sat down.

That wasn't to say that you didn't "try" when you were at work, just that your sense of style was more… reserved than the women you saw Javier gravitate towards.

So basically you were trying to not be attracted to your boss, and after three years all your crush had done was triple in size and follow you around like a smelly water buffalo.

Javier sighs again, drawing your gaze up from the stack of notes you were organizing into chronological order for him. His eyes skate over to you, a weary smile twitching at the end of his lips before his attention drops back to the folder perched in his lap.

Everyone else had gone home for the night, and usually by now Javier would have gone too, but he had a meeting with Ambassador Noonan in the morning and was trying to prepare.

Maybe he needs some coffee.

You think to yourself as you rise from your cluttered desk making your way to the small break room two rooms down the corridor, not noticing the way Javier's eyes follow you.

He had told you to go home earlier, told you that he had this handled, but you refused. Javier didn’t understand why you wouldn't go, but he was happy you didn't, because it meant that he got to be with you for just a few more hours than normal. Got to hear your soft sigh as your shuffled through papers, got to see the way your face got that cute scrunch when you were concentrating, and got to smell the bright mist of your citrus perfume whenever you walked by. The same perfume that he had to stop himself from trying to gulp down from the air like a man dying of thirst in the dessert, because the way you smelled was like a drug to him. It made him feel like an addict of the worst kind.

And then also made him feel like the scummiest guy on the planet because he was your boss and shouldn't be having any of those thoughts about you, but he couldn't help it. Not when since the first day he met you, Javier felt his dead heart start to beat again. Not when being in the same room with you was like standing too close to the sun, blinded and filled with so much heat he thought it would all come pouring out of him like molten lava.

Javier Peña had it bad. Steve often teased him about it and Javi shrugged him off, but Javier knew in his heart that there wasn't much he could do to change it.

Because he wanted more, but he knew that he shouldn't.

You busy yourself with the steps of making coffee. Measuring out the grounds, filling the pot with water, etc. And when you have two mugs filled to the brim with the elixir of life, you turn to go back to the office.

Unfortunately what you didn't know is that Javier came to see what you were doing, and at the exact moment you turn around with much more enthusiasm than someone should have at 12:39 on a Tuesday night/Wednesday morning, Javier enters the room.

You crash into him, pouring the entire contents of both mugs onto the front of his shirt and down his pants.

Javier makes a sound like a wounded animal.

Coming from someone who had been shot in the past, you now knew that taking scalding hot coffee seemed to be the same level of pain as a bullet wound.

"Shit!" You scream, placing the empty mugs on the counter before turning back to note the prominent stain all over Javier's lower stomach and the front of his blue jeans.

Before Javier can reach for the paper towels to clean himself, your hand comes down hard on the center of his chest, stress fueled anxiety giving you almost superhuman strength as you shove him backwards into one of the plastic chairs that sit idle around the pathetic table.

A startled yelp comes through Javier's lips as he stumbles back in surprise, landing unceremoniously in a chair, stunned. You don’t give him time to process the events that happened in the last three seconds, before you're dropping to your knees in front of him, paper towel roll in hand, scrubbing furiously at his lap.

"Oh fuck, Mr. Peña I am so SO sorry!" You babble, working your hands back and forth on the front of his pants, leaning over him. "I didn’t know that you were coming in here and I wanted to make us some coffee because I know that you've been working so hard tonight and-"

Javier groans low under his breath. "It's okay I-" He tries to push you away, but you continue to dab and wipe at the coffee that has soaked through his jeans.

"It's not okay! You could have second or third degree burns." You stare up at him wide eyed.

One of his hands is fisted on his knee, the other gripping the plastic edge of the table like a lifeline, his jaw clenched tight as you work your hands over him.

"I'm fine-" He says through gritted teeth, brown eyes flashing with something that looks a lot like pain.

Maybe we should go to the hospital!

"No, you're not here-" You prop yourself up, placing your hands on Javier's muscular thighs, your face level with his crotch, and blow.

Javier's body constricts, his knuckles turning white from grabbing the table.

"Is that better?" You look up at him again, eyes wide and hopeful, anxiety and embarrassment flooding the synapses in your brain. You were so worried of Javier being in pain, of him being hurt, that you weren't considering the opposite.

Because Javier Peña is trying not to come in his pants like a damn teenager.

He lets out a strangled sound, but doesn't answer, so you try again, blowing over his crotch and hoping that it soothes the scalded flesh.

“You have to stop-“ Javier says in a breathy whisper, face contorting in something that looks like pain. His dark hair is scrunched and wild, sweat beading along his forehead, and his eyes squeezed shut as if he can’t look at you.

Can you sue someone for spilling coffee on you?

“Don’t worry I think I can get it all off!” You say, beginning to frantically dab at his pants again.

Javier was in hell… but fuck it felt a lot like heaven.

He was trying his best not to focus on what you were doing. His mind flitting from photos of M-19 personnel massacred by Pablo Escobar, photos of plane crash victims, memories of drug busts, to other images of whatever else could take his mind off of what was happening in his lap, but nothing was working.

Not when you were kneeling in front of him, eyes wide with fear and worry for him, wearing one of those handmade oversized sweaters that Javier thought made you look unbelievably cute, soft hands rubbing, dabbing, and squeezing him, your cool breath rushing through his coffee soaked pants, and with you apologizing over and over in that sweet voice of yours.

The same one that Javi tried not to think about in the dead of night when all was quiet and he was alone, when another voice inside his head (that sounded remarkably like Steve) told him not to start something with his secretary-

But Javi couldn't help it.

You were unlike anyone he'd met in his entire life. You were soft, kind, generous, with a smile that always made something deep inside Javi break whenever you looked at him. The same smile that he sought after a day without end, because it was the only thing that made him feel like what he was doing meant something after years of him sinking deeper into the mire.

The moment that you started working for him, Javier found himself excited to come to work and that was something that warranted a whole fleet of flying pigs.

You shouldn't be working here, let alone living here. Whenever you didn't show up to work or were a few minutes late Javier's mind went right to the worst, that something had happened to you. That someone had done something and he was too late, because Colombia chewed up and spat out the kind of person you were.

It was why he couldn't bear the thought of you walking alone to your car after work, and why he seemed to be in the same neighborhood on the weekends when you made your way to the market down the street from your apartment to go grocery shopping. It was also why he was trying his best to keep his distance from you, because someone like you had no business being with someone like him.

"Fuck." Javi half moans, because he can’t keep it in.

You look up at him,  still frantically wiping the front of his pants with a coffee stained paper towel. Javier isn't looking at you, his head is tilted upwards at the ceiling and his eyes are squeezed shut, sweat beading along his hairline, breath coming in shallow gasps.

"Shit, Javi I'm so, so sorry. I know it hurts. I'm going to go get some ice." You try to rise from the ground, but Javier's hand comes down on your shoulder to stop you.

"Please don't." His teeth are gritted together.

"But you're hurt. You could have a burn or-"

"I don't."

"How do you know?"

"Cariño-" Javier chuckles, his eyes blink open, turning a honeyed whiskey in the light. "I stopped thinking about that the second you dropped to your knees and started cleaning me up. It doesn’t hurt. And if you keep doing what you’re doing we’re going to have a bigger problem.”

“What do you mea-“

It still doesn't dawn on you what he's talking about or why he would stop thinking about hot coffee burning him until your gaze lowers again to his lap.

Anything you’re about to say evaporates from the tip of your tongue.

In your eagerness and embarrassment, you'd forgotten exactly what it would have felt like for him when you scrubbed, dabbed, and blew on the front of his pants for the past two minutes.

Oh. My. Damn.

You think to yourself as you see the outline of Javier's large erection straining against the zipper of his coffee stained jeans.

How does he- nope nope not thinking about that right now.

By now your face is so warm with embarrassment you're sure that if someone were to crack an egg it would be fried to perfection in seconds. The heat rivals the eruption of mount Vesuvius, rivals the surface of the sun if someone ran a train full of gasoline into it. There is no coming back from this, no rock big enough to hide under, no cave dark and deep enough to cover your shame.

You lean back on your heels, dropping your face into your hands. "I am so sorry-" The word had lost all meaning given how many times you'd said it within the last five minutes, but given the situation, you had no idea what to say.

To say you were mortified was an understatement. You were so embarrassed that you wanted the faded musty maroon carpet to come up and swallow you whole, so embarrassed that you wanted to go outside, open your mouth, and see if you could drown in the heavy downpour.

I'm never going to be able to show my face here again. I'm going to have to quit my job and change my name. And without a job I'll never have enough money to pay my rent or feed my cat, and if I can't feed my cat he's going to eat my face while I'm sleeping and-

Javier coughs out a laugh, the same one that usually made you feel like you'd swallowed sunshine, but not now. Especially not now not when you could call your own time of death.

You could imagine the gravestone:

Here lies so and so died, when she accidentally gave her boss a handjob.

You could also imagine the ridiculous rumors that would stem from this moment. The things that everyone would say about you the second they found out about this.

You can’t move, can’t even breathe.

The longer you sit there the worse you feel. Embarrassment, shame, and anxiety prickles along your skin, jumping and crackling through every nerve ending, making tears burn in your eyes. You wanted to curl up into a little ball under your desk and rot.

It was the single most embarrassing moment of your life and you knew that there would be no other event that would ever top it.

Javier slides out of his chair to kneel in front of you, whispering your name, but you can't look at him, can't do anything.

The thought of running outside into the thunderstorm crosses your mind, but you’d worn heels today and you didn’t think you’d get far running. And it would have been even more embarrassing if you slipped and busted your nose open on the marble floor in the lobby, because you knew that Javier would insist on driving you to the hospital and you didn’t want to sit through that car ride if your life depended on it.

He says your name again, this time gently pulling your hands from your face.  “Why are you crying?” Worry flickers behind his golden gaze, thumbs brushing over the soft skin of your wrists.

“Because I’m embarrassed. I mean I touched you- touched it- I-“

My great grandchildren will still feel my shame. It will haunt them from beyond my grave. They won’t know a moment of peace!

“If anyone should be embarrassed it’s me.” Javier chuckles.

“I don’t think you still have enough of a sense of shame for that Mr. Peña.” You sniffle out a laugh.

It was true. You knew his reputation, had heard the rumor mill a hundred times over, not to mention you had fielded a number of angry phone calls directed at your boss all of whom you’d told them that Javier wasn’t there, while he stood there and made frantic gestures with his hands.

“Oh back to Mr. Peña I see.” He brushes a strand of hair out of your face. Javier's touch trails sparks against your skin, making your throat tight.

“Huh?" You blink in confusion.

“A minute ago you called me Javi.”

"I did?”

It was hard to think when he was still holding one of your wrists in his warm calloused hands. The same hands worn rough from years of holding a gun, and the ones that had only ever treated you with kindness in the three years that you'd worked for him.

"I don't think I've ever heard you call me anything other than 'Mr. Peña' since you got hired." He raises an eyebrow, signature smirk in place.

"Oh well- that's because I- um. You're my boss and I- I ."

I don’t want to get used to calling you anything else because then I won’t be able to stop.

"I like it when you call me Javi." His fingers trace across your chin, making your cheeks heat.

Any semblance of shame or embarrassment that you felt was quickly fading away with his touch. It was the most that he'd ever touched you, except for the few accidental brushes of your fingertips whenever you handed him things, or whenever he somehow was grocery shopping at the same market and he would gently place his hand on the small of your back to lead you through the crowded stalls.

You never understood why he shopped there too. It was thirty minutes in the opposite direction of where he lived.

This isn't happening. This is just a daydream I'm having and-

“But I don’t like it when you cry.” Javier’s mouth pulls down into a frown. “I promise it’s okay-“

“I’m sorry-” You wipe at your eyes with the back of your free hand.

You couldn't seem to stop saying it. But again you honestly didn't know what else to say. Sorry seemed to cover a multitude of sins. Not to mention the way that Javier was touching you and looking at you right now, and the energy that seemed to pulse and thrum through the air was making your head a little fuzzy.

Before you can say or do anything more, Javier leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead. “You have nothing to be sorry about. You were just trying to help.”

Your hand falls automatically to the front of Javier's orange button up, gasping softly in surprise. He freezes, eyes wide as if he can’t believe that he did it either.

And he can't. Javier didn't meant to, but he can't stand to see you cry. Not when each time you did, it was like the sun was hidden behind the clouds and not when it was like a piece of himself was dying. And he didn't think that you should be embarrassed about this, because you were honestly just trying to help him.

The odd energy pulses again, threading through the air between the two of you, as neither one pulls away. His dark gaze is on you, hesitant, as if he's waiting for something you can't see. Some subtle que or tick that only he knows.

The spicy smell of Javier's aftershave floods into your nose, familiar in the best way, and the feeling of the warmth of his body only inches away makes your brain short circuit.

For the first time in the three years that you'd worked for Javier, you don't feel like his awkward secretary, because the way that he's looking at you… it makes you feel like more.

Javier leans forward just a hair, your hand still resting on his shirt, and brushes his lips against yours, eyes open, gauging your reaction. A sigh works it's way through your parted lips as you sink into the kiss, the hand you have resting on his shirt curling enough to feel the subtle shift of his muscles move and it's exactly what Javier needed.

His lips fall against yours with fervor, hands skating down the fabric of your sweater and finding your hips with ease, before he pulls you into his lap, not breaking the kiss.

It's unlike anything you could have imagined, more than any fantasy you could have made up in your head. The feeling of his supple lips, the tickle of his mustache, the warmth that surges up, up, up in a fluid wave through your body, the taste of the peppermint and stale coffee-

It’s addictive, maddening, hypnotic.

He groans into your mouth, the sound not unlike what he made moments ago, his hands subtly pushing up the edge of your sweater to find the heated skin of your waist fueling the spark that burns through your body. Goosebumps trace along your flesh with a heavy hand, the white hot fire that comes with the feeling of his skin on yours traveling from the base of your throat to the pit of your stomach.

“Javi-“ You breathe his name on a gasp, earning a groan from the man beneath you as he pulls you harder against him, moving his lips down the column of your throat into the shadow of your jaw whispering things in Spanish that you can’t understand. Your hands move up the expanse of his chest and find refuge in his hair, the dark locks falling beneath your fingertips, soft and curled slightly on the ends. Your name comes out of his mouth in a throaty whisper, rumbling up through where your chest is pressed against his.

You'd never heard anyone say it like that before, almost reverent, cherished, like you're his. As if after all this time you've always been his and it's always led to this moment. And it makes something inside break open and flood into the cavity of your chest.

Then all at once he stops, pulling back from you, pupils dilated slightly, looking at you in a daze, his chest rising and falling in rapid gasps.

“We shouldn’t- I shouldn’t.” His voice comes out in a hoarse whisper.

The embarrassment is back tenfold, because now that you’d felt him under you, felt the urgency of his touch against your body, his lips soft against your mouth you don’t know how the hell you’re going to do anything else whenever you see him.

“I'm sorry-“ You mutter before you can stop it, and try to move back off of him, misunderstanding what he means.

Javier kisses you again, holding you firmly on his lap, eyes darker than you'd ever seen them.

“Please stop apologizing.” He murmurs against your lips. “I meant that I don’t want it to happen like this. I at least want to take you out to dinner first. You're-" Javier swallows. "You deserve that."

You blink in surprise. It wasn't that you thought Javier wasn't a gentleman, it was that you weren't expecting him to say something like that. Not when there was no one left in the entire embassy and he didn't have to stop...

But with this pause, reality came roaring back in.

He's my boss. What would other people say?

“Are you sure that’s not a bad idea?” Your fingers gently move through the strands of hair at the back of his head, which makes Javier sigh and lean into your touch.

“It’s the worst idea. Been trying to not ask you out for three years.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Javier chuckles

“It is a bad idea.” You bite the inside of your cheek.

It was. Beyond bad. Practically forbidden. Not to mention you knew for a fact that Javier would probably think you were just too weird and awkward to care about a follow up date and then it would ruin the relationship the two of you had.

But you wanted to say yes. That's an understatement, you wanted to scream yes from the mountaintops and perform a rendition of "The Hills Are Alive" with Julie Andrews.

"Terrible, cariño." Javier smirks a little wider, the grip he has on your waist tightening with a promise that flashes in his dark eyes.

“Maybe not coffee.” You say hesitantly.

"Yeah, that'd probably be safer.” Javier admits. “Though I think if I took you out for a drink there’s always the possibility you could spill your martini and stab me with an olive skewer.”

Your cheeks heat in embarrassment.

"But it's worth the risk." He murmurs leaning his forehead against yours.

"Some things always are." You echo with a soft smile, listening to the rumble of thunder shaking the brick, mortar, and glass of the embassy. The rest of the world melting away and leaving you just with Javi for a few precious moments when all hell rages outside the white washed walls and musty carpets.

Anything can happen in a thunderstorm, you just never imagined something like this.

A/N: Again Alex congratulations on the 5k and giving me such an inspirational gif for your challenge! It was fun for him, and of course to watch some Narcos again 🥰

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated! The comments really keep me going!

Taglist:

@angrydragon90 @jollyhunter @kmc1989

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@kmc1989

Aww thank you and thank you so much for the reblog! This was a fun one to work on!

Worth The Risk

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: When you and your boss get stuck working late at the Embassy, a heated accident makes the two of you realize that maybe some things are worth the risk. Written for @zepskies 5K follower celebration!

Tropes: Little tiny bit of grumpy sunshine, Tiny bit of shy/awkward reader, Boss and Secretary Dynamic, Soft! Javier. Mutual Pining.

Word Count: 4.6K

Warnings: I'm labelling this one as 18+ (just in case)! Sexual situationish? Cursing, Super awkward situation, Make out session, References to sex (there's quite a bit), References to Javi being a tiny bit of a slut *said affectionately* (because we all love him for it), Loverboy! Javi, Accidental Handjob (I don't know what to call it)? Reader is kinda awkward, Reader has anxiety, Reader being a little bit self-deprecating? Reader has a bit of a developed backstory for the fic, Javier being a little bit self-deprecating? Javier might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is no use of y/n! I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite! I have never written for Javier before, so please, PLEASE be gentle.

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

A/N: Alright Alex, happy 5k! This one rolled out of me due to the very, VERY inspirational gif that you sent me (still can't look at it for too long without stroking out 🤣). I'll have to return the favor someday 😈 But to everyone else, this one is really just something silly that was living rent free in my head so enjoy!

There is something magical about rain.

The gentle patter against a rooftop like a soothing melody, the racing droplets down a window that you can trace with your fingertips, the distant rumble of thunder over the mountains shaking through the lush green forests, the heady smell of rain that comes moments before a downpour, the flash of lightning that captures the world in shades of black and white- it makes the rest of the world melt away, isolates you to one single place to bask in the enchanting sounds and beauty of it all.

Anything can happen in a thunderstorm.

Of course there are some things that are not magical about rain.

The feeling of the cold droplets slipping below your collar and trickling down your spine, the squish of your soaked socks and shoes when you step into a puddle that was a little deeper than you thought it was, the flash of lightning above your head that is a little too close for comfort followed the deep crack of thunder…

Or when you’re fighting for your life with a stubborn umbrella in a heavy downpour that won’t do the one job it was literally made for and you end up looking like a drowned rat by the time you get to where you were going, and you’re too embarrassed to go in so you just turn to take the walk of shame home, and end up running into your “so sexy it should be a crime” boss.

Not speaking from personal experience or anything…

The raging thunderstorm that pummeled and shook the American Embassy was trying it's best to rival the storm that Noah survived, and was also unfortunately keeping you from your warm bed past midnight on a Tuesday.

An umbrella would have been worthless at this point given that the rain seemed to be coming up from the ground and because your ancient Nova had refused to start this morning and you'd walked to work, you were stuck.

But you didn't mind staying late for one reason:

Javier Peña

The level of crush you had on your boss was shameful, but you hadn't meant for this to happen, honest! He was just, so, so…

Javier sighs where he sits at his desk, leaning back to prop his feet up on the strong metal table top while the muscles of his right arm strain against the sleeve of his orange button up, making your throat constrict.

Sexy.

Which yes, maybe it was a bit of a cliché, a secretary falling in love with her boss that was way out of her league in every single way, but you were.

Sure Javier had a reputation with women. Goodness knows you had heard every single scandalous whisper about his numerous escapades and seen every sultry look from the women who passed by the office hoping to catch a glimpse of your boss hard at work. The same women who told you how lucky you were to work with Javier and how jealous they were of you.

They didn't need to be. You knew for a fact that Javier didn't see you as more than just his secretary.

How you ask? Because of the way he treated you.

You'd seen Javier charming someone back to his apartment- the moves, the smirk, the mischievous glint in his whiskey colored eyes when he knew he had someone on the hook, and the low rumble of his chuckle that made you lose all feeling in your legs. You'd seen the same song and dance at every Christmas, New Years, and whatever other holiday that you were celebrating at the Embassy party.

But around you, Javier was a different man.

Yes he still had the same charm, but he was softer. He genuinely would ask you how your day was going whenever he walked by, listened to you whisper whatever gossip you picked up at the water cooler on the fifth floor or in the break room and laughed with you, suggested places to order lunch from where he knew you would find something too, walked with you to your car when it was late, and whenever he went out with Steve he always brought something back for you, whether it be a nice cup of well-needed coffee or a Cocada from your favorite bakery down the street.

He was a good boss. Anyone would be lucky to work with him.

Plus you'd seen the kind of women he was interested in and you weren't one of them. You weren't confident or outgoing. Sure you'd speak to your boss, Steve, and a few people around the office when you had to, but you were not okay with just striking up a conversation or joining a group mid-sentence because that was like a suicide mission. Plus being as clumsy as you were, you'd probably take a few steps towards the group then eat it on the musty carpets.

And you certainly didn't dress like any of them- well, some of them dressed for their profession and that was okay, but you definitely couldn't imagine wearing anything like that around the office.

Your wardrobe consisted of oversized sweaters, long flowy skirts, and soft dresses that draped rather than squeezed your boobs into submission and didn't prop them up to say "hello." But you wanted to be comfy at work because you were there so many hours during the day and you didn't think that you'd be able to breathe if you wore anything tight when you sat down.

That wasn't to say that you didn't "try" when you were at work, just that your sense of style was more… reserved than the women you saw Javier gravitate towards.

So basically you were trying to not be attracted to your boss, and after three years all your crush had done was triple in size and follow you around like a smelly water buffalo.

Javier sighs again, drawing your gaze up from the stack of notes you were organizing into chronological order for him. His eyes skate over to you, a weary smile twitching at the end of his lips before his attention drops back to the folder perched in his lap.

Everyone else had gone home for the night, and usually by now Javier would have gone too, but he had a meeting with Ambassador Noonan in the morning and was trying to prepare.

Maybe he needs some coffee.

You think to yourself as you rise from your cluttered desk making your way to the small break room two rooms down the corridor, not noticing the way Javier's eyes follow you.

He had told you to go home earlier, told you that he had this handled, but you refused. Javier didn’t understand why you wouldn't go, but he was happy you didn't, because it meant that he got to be with you for just a few more hours than normal. Got to hear your soft sigh as your shuffled through papers, got to see the way your face got that cute scrunch when you were concentrating, and got to smell the bright mist of your citrus perfume whenever you walked by. The same perfume that he had to stop himself from trying to gulp down from the air like a man dying of thirst in the dessert, because the way you smelled was like a drug to him. It made him feel like an addict of the worst kind.

And then also made him feel like the scummiest guy on the planet because he was your boss and shouldn't be having any of those thoughts about you, but he couldn't help it. Not when since the first day he met you, Javier felt his dead heart start to beat again. Not when being in the same room with you was like standing too close to the sun, blinded and filled with so much heat he thought it would all come pouring out of him like molten lava.

Javier Peña had it bad. Steve often teased him about it and Javi shrugged him off, but Javier knew in his heart that there wasn't much he could do to change it.

Because he wanted more, but he knew that he shouldn't.

You busy yourself with the steps of making coffee. Measuring out the grounds, filling the pot with water, etc. And when you have two mugs filled to the brim with the elixir of life, you turn to go back to the office.

Unfortunately what you didn't know is that Javier came to see what you were doing, and at the exact moment you turn around with much more enthusiasm than someone should have at 12:39 on a Tuesday night/Wednesday morning, Javier enters the room.

You crash into him, pouring the entire contents of both mugs onto the front of his shirt and down his pants.

Javier makes a sound like a wounded animal.

Coming from someone who had been shot in the past, you now knew that taking scalding hot coffee seemed to be the same level of pain as a bullet wound.

"Shit!" You scream, placing the empty mugs on the counter before turning back to note the prominent stain all over Javier's lower stomach and the front of his blue jeans.

Before Javier can reach for the paper towels to clean himself, your hand comes down hard on the center of his chest, stress fueled anxiety giving you almost superhuman strength as you shove him backwards into one of the plastic chairs that sit idle around the pathetic table.

A startled yelp comes through Javier's lips as he stumbles back in surprise, landing unceremoniously in a chair, stunned. You don’t give him time to process the events that happened in the last three seconds, before you're dropping to your knees in front of him, paper towel roll in hand, scrubbing furiously at his lap.

"Oh fuck, Mr. Peña I am so SO sorry!" You babble, working your hands back and forth on the front of his pants, leaning over him. "I didn’t know that you were coming in here and I wanted to make us some coffee because I know that you've been working so hard tonight and-"

Javier groans low under his breath. "It's okay I-" He tries to push you away, but you continue to dab and wipe at the coffee that has soaked through his jeans.

"It's not okay! You could have second or third degree burns." You stare up at him wide eyed.

One of his hands is fisted on his knee, the other gripping the plastic edge of the table like a lifeline, his jaw clenched tight as you work your hands over him.

"I'm fine-" He says through gritted teeth, brown eyes flashing with something that looks a lot like pain.

Maybe we should go to the hospital!

"No, you're not here-" You prop yourself up, placing your hands on Javier's muscular thighs, your face level with his crotch, and blow.

Javier's body constricts, his knuckles turning white from grabbing the table.

"Is that better?" You look up at him again, eyes wide and hopeful, anxiety and embarrassment flooding the synapses in your brain. You were so worried of Javier being in pain, of him being hurt, that you weren't considering the opposite.

Because Javier Peña is trying not to come in his pants like a damn teenager.

He lets out a strangled sound, but doesn't answer, so you try again, blowing over his crotch and hoping that it soothes the scalded flesh.

“You have to stop-“ Javier says in a breathy whisper, face contorting in something that looks like pain. His dark hair is scrunched and wild, sweat beading along his forehead, and his eyes squeezed shut as if he can’t look at you.

Can you sue someone for spilling coffee on you?

“Don’t worry I think I can get it all off!” You say, beginning to frantically dab at his pants again.

Javier was in hell… but fuck it felt a lot like heaven.

He was trying his best not to focus on what you were doing. His mind flitting from photos of M-19 personnel massacred by Pablo Escobar, photos of plane crash victims, memories of drug busts, to other images of whatever else could take his mind off of what was happening in his lap, but nothing was working.

Not when you were kneeling in front of him, eyes wide with fear and worry for him, wearing one of those handmade oversized sweaters that Javier thought made you look unbelievably cute, soft hands rubbing, dabbing, and squeezing him, your cool breath rushing through his coffee soaked pants, and with you apologizing over and over in that sweet voice of yours.

The same one that Javi tried not to think about in the dead of night when all was quiet and he was alone, when another voice inside his head (that sounded remarkably like Steve) told him not to start something with his secretary-

But Javi couldn't help it.

You were unlike anyone he'd met in his entire life. You were soft, kind, generous, with a smile that always made something deep inside Javi break whenever you looked at him. The same smile that he sought after a day without end, because it was the only thing that made him feel like what he was doing meant something after years of him sinking deeper into the mire.

The moment that you started working for him, Javier found himself excited to come to work and that was something that warranted a whole fleet of flying pigs.

You shouldn't be working here, let alone living here. Whenever you didn't show up to work or were a few minutes late Javier's mind went right to the worst, that something had happened to you. That someone had done something and he was too late, because Colombia chewed up and spat out the kind of person you were.

It was why he couldn't bear the thought of you walking alone to your car after work, and why he seemed to be in the same neighborhood on the weekends when you made your way to the market down the street from your apartment to go grocery shopping. It was also why he was trying his best to keep his distance from you, because someone like you had no business being with someone like him.

"Fuck." Javi half moans, because he can’t keep it in.

You look up at him,  still frantically wiping the front of his pants with a coffee stained paper towel. Javier isn't looking at you, his head is tilted upwards at the ceiling and his eyes are squeezed shut, sweat beading along his hairline, breath coming in shallow gasps.

"Shit, Javi I'm so, so sorry. I know it hurts. I'm going to go get some ice." You try to rise from the ground, but Javier's hand comes down on your shoulder to stop you.

"Please don't." His teeth are gritted together.

"But you're hurt. You could have a burn or-"

"I don't."

"How do you know?"

"Cariño-" Javier chuckles, his eyes blink open, turning a honeyed whiskey in the light. "I stopped thinking about that the second you dropped to your knees and started cleaning me up. It doesn’t hurt. And if you keep doing what you’re doing we’re going to have a bigger problem.”

“What do you mea-“

It still doesn't dawn on you what he's talking about or why he would stop thinking about hot coffee burning him until your gaze lowers again to his lap.

Anything you’re about to say evaporates from the tip of your tongue.

In your eagerness and embarrassment, you'd forgotten exactly what it would have felt like for him when you scrubbed, dabbed, and blew on the front of his pants for the past two minutes.

Oh. My. Damn.

You think to yourself as you see the outline of Javier's large erection straining against the zipper of his coffee stained jeans.

How does he- nope nope not thinking about that right now.

By now your face is so warm with embarrassment you're sure that if someone were to crack an egg it would be fried to perfection in seconds. The heat rivals the eruption of mount Vesuvius, rivals the surface of the sun if someone ran a train full of gasoline into it. There is no coming back from this, no rock big enough to hide under, no cave dark and deep enough to cover your shame.

You lean back on your heels, dropping your face into your hands. "I am so sorry-" The word had lost all meaning given how many times you'd said it within the last five minutes, but given the situation, you had no idea what to say.

To say you were mortified was an understatement. You were so embarrassed that you wanted the faded musty maroon carpet to come up and swallow you whole, so embarrassed that you wanted to go outside, open your mouth, and see if you could drown in the heavy downpour.

I'm never going to be able to show my face here again. I'm going to have to quit my job and change my name. And without a job I'll never have enough money to pay my rent or feed my cat, and if I can't feed my cat he's going to eat my face while I'm sleeping and-

Javier coughs out a laugh, the same one that usually made you feel like you'd swallowed sunshine, but not now. Especially not now not when you could call your own time of death.

You could imagine the gravestone:

Here lies so and so died, when she accidentally gave her boss a handjob.

You could also imagine the ridiculous rumors that would stem from this moment. The things that everyone would say about you the second they found out about this.

You can’t move, can’t even breathe.

The longer you sit there the worse you feel. Embarrassment, shame, and anxiety prickles along your skin, jumping and crackling through every nerve ending, making tears burn in your eyes. You wanted to curl up into a little ball under your desk and rot.

It was the single most embarrassing moment of your life and you knew that there would be no other event that would ever top it.

Javier slides out of his chair to kneel in front of you, whispering your name, but you can't look at him, can't do anything.

The thought of running outside into the thunderstorm crosses your mind, but you’d worn heels today and you didn’t think you’d get far running. And it would have been even more embarrassing if you slipped and busted your nose open on the marble floor in the lobby, because you knew that Javier would insist on driving you to the hospital and you didn’t want to sit through that car ride if your life depended on it.

He says your name again, this time gently pulling your hands from your face.  “Why are you crying?” Worry flickers behind his golden gaze, thumbs brushing over the soft skin of your wrists.

“Because I’m embarrassed. I mean I touched you- touched it- I-“

My great grandchildren will still feel my shame. It will haunt them from beyond my grave. They won’t know a moment of peace!

“If anyone should be embarrassed it’s me.” Javier chuckles.

“I don’t think you still have enough of a sense of shame for that Mr. Peña.” You sniffle out a laugh.

It was true. You knew his reputation, had heard the rumor mill a hundred times over, not to mention you had fielded a number of angry phone calls directed at your boss all of whom you’d told them that Javier wasn’t there, while he stood there and made frantic gestures with his hands.

“Oh back to Mr. Peña I see.” He brushes a strand of hair out of your face. Javier's touch trails sparks against your skin, making your throat tight.

“Huh?" You blink in confusion.

“A minute ago you called me Javi.”

"I did?”

It was hard to think when he was still holding one of your wrists in his warm calloused hands. The same hands worn rough from years of holding a gun, and the ones that had only ever treated you with kindness in the three years that you'd worked for him.

"I don't think I've ever heard you call me anything other than 'Mr. Peña' since you got hired." He raises an eyebrow, signature smirk in place.

"Oh well- that's because I- um. You're my boss and I- I ."

I don’t want to get used to calling you anything else because then I won’t be able to stop.

"I like it when you call me Javi." His fingers trace across your chin, making your cheeks heat.

Any semblance of shame or embarrassment that you felt was quickly fading away with his touch. It was the most that he'd ever touched you, except for the few accidental brushes of your fingertips whenever you handed him things, or whenever he somehow was grocery shopping at the same market and he would gently place his hand on the small of your back to lead you through the crowded stalls.

You never understood why he shopped there too. It was thirty minutes in the opposite direction of where he lived.

This isn't happening. This is just a daydream I'm having and-

“But I don’t like it when you cry.” Javier’s mouth pulls down into a frown. “I promise it’s okay-“

“I’m sorry-” You wipe at your eyes with the back of your free hand.

You couldn't seem to stop saying it. But again you honestly didn't know what else to say. Sorry seemed to cover a multitude of sins. Not to mention the way that Javier was touching you and looking at you right now, and the energy that seemed to pulse and thrum through the air was making your head a little fuzzy.

Before you can say or do anything more, Javier leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead. “You have nothing to be sorry about. You were just trying to help.”

Your hand falls automatically to the front of Javier's orange button up, gasping softly in surprise. He freezes, eyes wide as if he can’t believe that he did it either.

And he can't. Javier didn't meant to, but he can't stand to see you cry. Not when each time you did, it was like the sun was hidden behind the clouds and not when it was like a piece of himself was dying. And he didn't think that you should be embarrassed about this, because you were honestly just trying to help him.

The odd energy pulses again, threading through the air between the two of you, as neither one pulls away. His dark gaze is on you, hesitant, as if he's waiting for something you can't see. Some subtle que or tick that only he knows.

The spicy smell of Javier's aftershave floods into your nose, familiar in the best way, and the feeling of the warmth of his body only inches away makes your brain short circuit.

For the first time in the three years that you'd worked for Javier, you don't feel like his awkward secretary, because the way that he's looking at you… it makes you feel like more.

Javier leans forward just a hair, your hand still resting on his shirt, and brushes his lips against yours, eyes open, gauging your reaction. A sigh works it's way through your parted lips as you sink into the kiss, the hand you have resting on his shirt curling enough to feel the subtle shift of his muscles move and it's exactly what Javier needed.

His lips fall against yours with fervor, hands skating down the fabric of your sweater and finding your hips with ease, before he pulls you into his lap, not breaking the kiss.

It's unlike anything you could have imagined, more than any fantasy you could have made up in your head. The feeling of his supple lips, the tickle of his mustache, the warmth that surges up, up, up in a fluid wave through your body, the taste of the peppermint and stale coffee-

It’s addictive, maddening, hypnotic.

He groans into your mouth, the sound not unlike what he made moments ago, his hands subtly pushing up the edge of your sweater to find the heated skin of your waist fueling the spark that burns through your body. Goosebumps trace along your flesh with a heavy hand, the white hot fire that comes with the feeling of his skin on yours traveling from the base of your throat to the pit of your stomach.

“Javi-“ You breathe his name on a gasp, earning a groan from the man beneath you as he pulls you harder against him, moving his lips down the column of your throat into the shadow of your jaw whispering things in Spanish that you can’t understand. Your hands move up the expanse of his chest and find refuge in his hair, the dark locks falling beneath your fingertips, soft and curled slightly on the ends. Your name comes out of his mouth in a throaty whisper, rumbling up through where your chest is pressed against his.

You'd never heard anyone say it like that before, almost reverent, cherished, like you're his. As if after all this time you've always been his and it's always led to this moment. And it makes something inside break open and flood into the cavity of your chest.

Then all at once he stops, pulling back from you, pupils dilated slightly, looking at you in a daze, his chest rising and falling in rapid gasps.

“We shouldn’t- I shouldn’t.” His voice comes out in a hoarse whisper.

The embarrassment is back tenfold, because now that you’d felt him under you, felt the urgency of his touch against your body, his lips soft against your mouth you don’t know how the hell you’re going to do anything else whenever you see him.

“I'm sorry-“ You mutter before you can stop it, and try to move back off of him, misunderstanding what he means.

Javier kisses you again, holding you firmly on his lap, eyes darker than you'd ever seen them.

“Please stop apologizing.” He murmurs against your lips. “I meant that I don’t want it to happen like this. I at least want to take you out to dinner first. You're-" Javier swallows. "You deserve that."

You blink in surprise. It wasn't that you thought Javier wasn't a gentleman, it was that you weren't expecting him to say something like that. Not when there was no one left in the entire embassy and he didn't have to stop...

But with this pause, reality came roaring back in.

He's my boss. What would other people say?

“Are you sure that’s not a bad idea?” Your fingers gently move through the strands of hair at the back of his head, which makes Javier sigh and lean into your touch.

“It’s the worst idea. Been trying to not ask you out for three years.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Javier chuckles

“It is a bad idea.” You bite the inside of your cheek.

It was. Beyond bad. Practically forbidden. Not to mention you knew for a fact that Javier would probably think you were just too weird and awkward to care about a follow up date and then it would ruin the relationship the two of you had.

But you wanted to say yes. That's an understatement, you wanted to scream yes from the mountaintops and perform a rendition of "The Hills Are Alive" with Julie Andrews.

"Terrible, cariño." Javier smirks a little wider, the grip he has on your waist tightening with a promise that flashes in his dark eyes.

“Maybe not coffee.” You say hesitantly.

"Yeah, that'd probably be safer.” Javier admits. “Though I think if I took you out for a drink there’s always the possibility you could spill your martini and stab me with an olive skewer.”

Your cheeks heat in embarrassment.

"But it's worth the risk." He murmurs leaning his forehead against yours.

"Some things always are." You echo with a soft smile, listening to the rumble of thunder shaking the brick, mortar, and glass of the embassy. The rest of the world melting away and leaving you just with Javi for a few precious moments when all hell rages outside the white washed walls and musty carpets.

Anything can happen in a thunderstorm, you just never imagined something like this.

A/N: Again Alex congratulations on the 5k and giving me such an inspirational gif for your challenge! It was fun for him, and of course to watch some Narcos again 🥰

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated! The comments really keep me going!

Taglist:

@angrydragon90 @jollyhunter @kmc1989

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@the-orange-tabby-cat

Thank you! I’m so glad you enjoyed it 🥰

Worth The Risk

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: When you and your boss get stuck working late at the Embassy, a heated accident makes the two of you realize that maybe some things are worth the risk. Written for @zepskies 5K follower celebration!

Tropes: Little tiny bit of grumpy sunshine, Tiny bit of shy/awkward reader, Boss and Secretary Dynamic, Soft! Javier. Mutual Pining.

Word Count: 4.6K

Warnings: I'm labelling this one as 18+ (just in case)! Sexual situationish? Cursing, Super awkward situation, Make out session, References to sex (there's quite a bit), References to Javi being a tiny bit of a slut *said affectionately* (because we all love him for it), Loverboy! Javi, Accidental Handjob (I don't know what to call it)? Reader is kinda awkward, Reader has anxiety, Reader being a little bit self-deprecating? Reader has a bit of a developed backstory for the fic, Javier being a little bit self-deprecating? Javier might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is no use of y/n! I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite! I have never written for Javier before, so please, PLEASE be gentle.

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

A/N: Alright Alex, happy 5k! This one rolled out of me due to the very, VERY inspirational gif that you sent me (still can't look at it for too long without stroking out 🤣). I'll have to return the favor someday 😈 But to everyone else, this one is really just something silly that was living rent free in my head so enjoy!

There is something magical about rain.

The gentle patter against a rooftop like a soothing melody, the racing droplets down a window that you can trace with your fingertips, the distant rumble of thunder over the mountains shaking through the lush green forests, the heady smell of rain that comes moments before a downpour, the flash of lightning that captures the world in shades of black and white- it makes the rest of the world melt away, isolates you to one single place to bask in the enchanting sounds and beauty of it all.

Anything can happen in a thunderstorm.

Of course there are some things that are not magical about rain.

The feeling of the cold droplets slipping below your collar and trickling down your spine, the squish of your soaked socks and shoes when you step into a puddle that was a little deeper than you thought it was, the flash of lightning above your head that is a little too close for comfort followed the deep crack of thunder…

Or when you’re fighting for your life with a stubborn umbrella in a heavy downpour that won’t do the one job it was literally made for and you end up looking like a drowned rat by the time you get to where you were going, and you’re too embarrassed to go in so you just turn to take the walk of shame home, and end up running into your “so sexy it should be a crime” boss.

Not speaking from personal experience or anything…

The raging thunderstorm that pummeled and shook the American Embassy was trying it's best to rival the storm that Noah survived, and was also unfortunately keeping you from your warm bed past midnight on a Tuesday.

An umbrella would have been worthless at this point given that the rain seemed to be coming up from the ground and because your ancient Nova had refused to start this morning and you'd walked to work, you were stuck.

But you didn't mind staying late for one reason:

Javier Peña

The level of crush you had on your boss was shameful, but you hadn't meant for this to happen, honest! He was just, so, so…

Javier sighs where he sits at his desk, leaning back to prop his feet up on the strong metal table top while the muscles of his right arm strain against the sleeve of his orange button up, making your throat constrict.

Sexy.

Which yes, maybe it was a bit of a cliché, a secretary falling in love with her boss that was way out of her league in every single way, but you were.

Sure Javier had a reputation with women. Goodness knows you had heard every single scandalous whisper about his numerous escapades and seen every sultry look from the women who passed by the office hoping to catch a glimpse of your boss hard at work. The same women who told you how lucky you were to work with Javier and how jealous they were of you.

They didn't need to be. You knew for a fact that Javier didn't see you as more than just his secretary.

How you ask? Because of the way he treated you.

You'd seen Javier charming someone back to his apartment- the moves, the smirk, the mischievous glint in his whiskey colored eyes when he knew he had someone on the hook, and the low rumble of his chuckle that made you lose all feeling in your legs. You'd seen the same song and dance at every Christmas, New Years, and whatever other holiday that you were celebrating at the Embassy party.

But around you, Javier was a different man.

Yes he still had the same charm, but he was softer. He genuinely would ask you how your day was going whenever he walked by, listened to you whisper whatever gossip you picked up at the water cooler on the fifth floor or in the break room and laughed with you, suggested places to order lunch from where he knew you would find something too, walked with you to your car when it was late, and whenever he went out with Steve he always brought something back for you, whether it be a nice cup of well-needed coffee or a Cocada from your favorite bakery down the street.

He was a good boss. Anyone would be lucky to work with him.

Plus you'd seen the kind of women he was interested in and you weren't one of them. You weren't confident or outgoing. Sure you'd speak to your boss, Steve, and a few people around the office when you had to, but you were not okay with just striking up a conversation or joining a group mid-sentence because that was like a suicide mission. Plus being as clumsy as you were, you'd probably take a few steps towards the group then eat it on the musty carpets.

And you certainly didn't dress like any of them- well, some of them dressed for their profession and that was okay, but you definitely couldn't imagine wearing anything like that around the office.

Your wardrobe consisted of oversized sweaters, long flowy skirts, and soft dresses that draped rather than squeezed your boobs into submission and didn't prop them up to say "hello." But you wanted to be comfy at work because you were there so many hours during the day and you didn't think that you'd be able to breathe if you wore anything tight when you sat down.

That wasn't to say that you didn't "try" when you were at work, just that your sense of style was more… reserved than the women you saw Javier gravitate towards.

So basically you were trying to not be attracted to your boss, and after three years all your crush had done was triple in size and follow you around like a smelly water buffalo.

Javier sighs again, drawing your gaze up from the stack of notes you were organizing into chronological order for him. His eyes skate over to you, a weary smile twitching at the end of his lips before his attention drops back to the folder perched in his lap.

Everyone else had gone home for the night, and usually by now Javier would have gone too, but he had a meeting with Ambassador Noonan in the morning and was trying to prepare.

Maybe he needs some coffee.

You think to yourself as you rise from your cluttered desk making your way to the small break room two rooms down the corridor, not noticing the way Javier's eyes follow you.

He had told you to go home earlier, told you that he had this handled, but you refused. Javier didn’t understand why you wouldn't go, but he was happy you didn't, because it meant that he got to be with you for just a few more hours than normal. Got to hear your soft sigh as your shuffled through papers, got to see the way your face got that cute scrunch when you were concentrating, and got to smell the bright mist of your citrus perfume whenever you walked by. The same perfume that he had to stop himself from trying to gulp down from the air like a man dying of thirst in the dessert, because the way you smelled was like a drug to him. It made him feel like an addict of the worst kind.

And then also made him feel like the scummiest guy on the planet because he was your boss and shouldn't be having any of those thoughts about you, but he couldn't help it. Not when since the first day he met you, Javier felt his dead heart start to beat again. Not when being in the same room with you was like standing too close to the sun, blinded and filled with so much heat he thought it would all come pouring out of him like molten lava.

Javier Peña had it bad. Steve often teased him about it and Javi shrugged him off, but Javier knew in his heart that there wasn't much he could do to change it.

Because he wanted more, but he knew that he shouldn't.

You busy yourself with the steps of making coffee. Measuring out the grounds, filling the pot with water, etc. And when you have two mugs filled to the brim with the elixir of life, you turn to go back to the office.

Unfortunately what you didn't know is that Javier came to see what you were doing, and at the exact moment you turn around with much more enthusiasm than someone should have at 12:39 on a Tuesday night/Wednesday morning, Javier enters the room.

You crash into him, pouring the entire contents of both mugs onto the front of his shirt and down his pants.

Javier makes a sound like a wounded animal.

Coming from someone who had been shot in the past, you now knew that taking scalding hot coffee seemed to be the same level of pain as a bullet wound.

"Shit!" You scream, placing the empty mugs on the counter before turning back to note the prominent stain all over Javier's lower stomach and the front of his blue jeans.

Before Javier can reach for the paper towels to clean himself, your hand comes down hard on the center of his chest, stress fueled anxiety giving you almost superhuman strength as you shove him backwards into one of the plastic chairs that sit idle around the pathetic table.

A startled yelp comes through Javier's lips as he stumbles back in surprise, landing unceremoniously in a chair, stunned. You don’t give him time to process the events that happened in the last three seconds, before you're dropping to your knees in front of him, paper towel roll in hand, scrubbing furiously at his lap.

"Oh fuck, Mr. Peña I am so SO sorry!" You babble, working your hands back and forth on the front of his pants, leaning over him. "I didn’t know that you were coming in here and I wanted to make us some coffee because I know that you've been working so hard tonight and-"

Javier groans low under his breath. "It's okay I-" He tries to push you away, but you continue to dab and wipe at the coffee that has soaked through his jeans.

"It's not okay! You could have second or third degree burns." You stare up at him wide eyed.

One of his hands is fisted on his knee, the other gripping the plastic edge of the table like a lifeline, his jaw clenched tight as you work your hands over him.

"I'm fine-" He says through gritted teeth, brown eyes flashing with something that looks a lot like pain.

Maybe we should go to the hospital!

"No, you're not here-" You prop yourself up, placing your hands on Javier's muscular thighs, your face level with his crotch, and blow.

Javier's body constricts, his knuckles turning white from grabbing the table.

"Is that better?" You look up at him again, eyes wide and hopeful, anxiety and embarrassment flooding the synapses in your brain. You were so worried of Javier being in pain, of him being hurt, that you weren't considering the opposite.

Because Javier Peña is trying not to come in his pants like a damn teenager.

He lets out a strangled sound, but doesn't answer, so you try again, blowing over his crotch and hoping that it soothes the scalded flesh.

“You have to stop-“ Javier says in a breathy whisper, face contorting in something that looks like pain. His dark hair is scrunched and wild, sweat beading along his forehead, and his eyes squeezed shut as if he can’t look at you.

Can you sue someone for spilling coffee on you?

“Don’t worry I think I can get it all off!” You say, beginning to frantically dab at his pants again.

Javier was in hell… but fuck it felt a lot like heaven.

He was trying his best not to focus on what you were doing. His mind flitting from photos of M-19 personnel massacred by Pablo Escobar, photos of plane crash victims, memories of drug busts, to other images of whatever else could take his mind off of what was happening in his lap, but nothing was working.

Not when you were kneeling in front of him, eyes wide with fear and worry for him, wearing one of those handmade oversized sweaters that Javier thought made you look unbelievably cute, soft hands rubbing, dabbing, and squeezing him, your cool breath rushing through his coffee soaked pants, and with you apologizing over and over in that sweet voice of yours.

The same one that Javi tried not to think about in the dead of night when all was quiet and he was alone, when another voice inside his head (that sounded remarkably like Steve) told him not to start something with his secretary-

But Javi couldn't help it.

You were unlike anyone he'd met in his entire life. You were soft, kind, generous, with a smile that always made something deep inside Javi break whenever you looked at him. The same smile that he sought after a day without end, because it was the only thing that made him feel like what he was doing meant something after years of him sinking deeper into the mire.

The moment that you started working for him, Javier found himself excited to come to work and that was something that warranted a whole fleet of flying pigs.

You shouldn't be working here, let alone living here. Whenever you didn't show up to work or were a few minutes late Javier's mind went right to the worst, that something had happened to you. That someone had done something and he was too late, because Colombia chewed up and spat out the kind of person you were.

It was why he couldn't bear the thought of you walking alone to your car after work, and why he seemed to be in the same neighborhood on the weekends when you made your way to the market down the street from your apartment to go grocery shopping. It was also why he was trying his best to keep his distance from you, because someone like you had no business being with someone like him.

"Fuck." Javi half moans, because he can’t keep it in.

You look up at him,  still frantically wiping the front of his pants with a coffee stained paper towel. Javier isn't looking at you, his head is tilted upwards at the ceiling and his eyes are squeezed shut, sweat beading along his hairline, breath coming in shallow gasps.

"Shit, Javi I'm so, so sorry. I know it hurts. I'm going to go get some ice." You try to rise from the ground, but Javier's hand comes down on your shoulder to stop you.

"Please don't." His teeth are gritted together.

"But you're hurt. You could have a burn or-"

"I don't."

"How do you know?"

"Cariño-" Javier chuckles, his eyes blink open, turning a honeyed whiskey in the light. "I stopped thinking about that the second you dropped to your knees and started cleaning me up. It doesn’t hurt. And if you keep doing what you’re doing we’re going to have a bigger problem.”

“What do you mea-“

It still doesn't dawn on you what he's talking about or why he would stop thinking about hot coffee burning him until your gaze lowers again to his lap.

Anything you’re about to say evaporates from the tip of your tongue.

In your eagerness and embarrassment, you'd forgotten exactly what it would have felt like for him when you scrubbed, dabbed, and blew on the front of his pants for the past two minutes.

Oh. My. Damn.

You think to yourself as you see the outline of Javier's large erection straining against the zipper of his coffee stained jeans.

How does he- nope nope not thinking about that right now.

By now your face is so warm with embarrassment you're sure that if someone were to crack an egg it would be fried to perfection in seconds. The heat rivals the eruption of mount Vesuvius, rivals the surface of the sun if someone ran a train full of gasoline into it. There is no coming back from this, no rock big enough to hide under, no cave dark and deep enough to cover your shame.

You lean back on your heels, dropping your face into your hands. "I am so sorry-" The word had lost all meaning given how many times you'd said it within the last five minutes, but given the situation, you had no idea what to say.

To say you were mortified was an understatement. You were so embarrassed that you wanted the faded musty maroon carpet to come up and swallow you whole, so embarrassed that you wanted to go outside, open your mouth, and see if you could drown in the heavy downpour.

I'm never going to be able to show my face here again. I'm going to have to quit my job and change my name. And without a job I'll never have enough money to pay my rent or feed my cat, and if I can't feed my cat he's going to eat my face while I'm sleeping and-

Javier coughs out a laugh, the same one that usually made you feel like you'd swallowed sunshine, but not now. Especially not now not when you could call your own time of death.

You could imagine the gravestone:

Here lies so and so died, when she accidentally gave her boss a handjob.

You could also imagine the ridiculous rumors that would stem from this moment. The things that everyone would say about you the second they found out about this.

You can’t move, can’t even breathe.

The longer you sit there the worse you feel. Embarrassment, shame, and anxiety prickles along your skin, jumping and crackling through every nerve ending, making tears burn in your eyes. You wanted to curl up into a little ball under your desk and rot.

It was the single most embarrassing moment of your life and you knew that there would be no other event that would ever top it.

Javier slides out of his chair to kneel in front of you, whispering your name, but you can't look at him, can't do anything.

The thought of running outside into the thunderstorm crosses your mind, but you’d worn heels today and you didn’t think you’d get far running. And it would have been even more embarrassing if you slipped and busted your nose open on the marble floor in the lobby, because you knew that Javier would insist on driving you to the hospital and you didn’t want to sit through that car ride if your life depended on it.

He says your name again, this time gently pulling your hands from your face.  “Why are you crying?” Worry flickers behind his golden gaze, thumbs brushing over the soft skin of your wrists.

“Because I’m embarrassed. I mean I touched you- touched it- I-“

My great grandchildren will still feel my shame. It will haunt them from beyond my grave. They won’t know a moment of peace!

“If anyone should be embarrassed it’s me.” Javier chuckles.

“I don’t think you still have enough of a sense of shame for that Mr. Peña.” You sniffle out a laugh.

It was true. You knew his reputation, had heard the rumor mill a hundred times over, not to mention you had fielded a number of angry phone calls directed at your boss all of whom you’d told them that Javier wasn’t there, while he stood there and made frantic gestures with his hands.

“Oh back to Mr. Peña I see.” He brushes a strand of hair out of your face. Javier's touch trails sparks against your skin, making your throat tight.

“Huh?" You blink in confusion.

“A minute ago you called me Javi.”

"I did?”

It was hard to think when he was still holding one of your wrists in his warm calloused hands. The same hands worn rough from years of holding a gun, and the ones that had only ever treated you with kindness in the three years that you'd worked for him.

"I don't think I've ever heard you call me anything other than 'Mr. Peña' since you got hired." He raises an eyebrow, signature smirk in place.

"Oh well- that's because I- um. You're my boss and I- I ."

I don’t want to get used to calling you anything else because then I won’t be able to stop.

"I like it when you call me Javi." His fingers trace across your chin, making your cheeks heat.

Any semblance of shame or embarrassment that you felt was quickly fading away with his touch. It was the most that he'd ever touched you, except for the few accidental brushes of your fingertips whenever you handed him things, or whenever he somehow was grocery shopping at the same market and he would gently place his hand on the small of your back to lead you through the crowded stalls.

You never understood why he shopped there too. It was thirty minutes in the opposite direction of where he lived.

This isn't happening. This is just a daydream I'm having and-

“But I don’t like it when you cry.” Javier’s mouth pulls down into a frown. “I promise it’s okay-“

“I’m sorry-” You wipe at your eyes with the back of your free hand.

You couldn't seem to stop saying it. But again you honestly didn't know what else to say. Sorry seemed to cover a multitude of sins. Not to mention the way that Javier was touching you and looking at you right now, and the energy that seemed to pulse and thrum through the air was making your head a little fuzzy.

Before you can say or do anything more, Javier leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead. “You have nothing to be sorry about. You were just trying to help.”

Your hand falls automatically to the front of Javier's orange button up, gasping softly in surprise. He freezes, eyes wide as if he can’t believe that he did it either.

And he can't. Javier didn't meant to, but he can't stand to see you cry. Not when each time you did, it was like the sun was hidden behind the clouds and not when it was like a piece of himself was dying. And he didn't think that you should be embarrassed about this, because you were honestly just trying to help him.

The odd energy pulses again, threading through the air between the two of you, as neither one pulls away. His dark gaze is on you, hesitant, as if he's waiting for something you can't see. Some subtle que or tick that only he knows.

The spicy smell of Javier's aftershave floods into your nose, familiar in the best way, and the feeling of the warmth of his body only inches away makes your brain short circuit.

For the first time in the three years that you'd worked for Javier, you don't feel like his awkward secretary, because the way that he's looking at you… it makes you feel like more.

Javier leans forward just a hair, your hand still resting on his shirt, and brushes his lips against yours, eyes open, gauging your reaction. A sigh works it's way through your parted lips as you sink into the kiss, the hand you have resting on his shirt curling enough to feel the subtle shift of his muscles move and it's exactly what Javier needed.

His lips fall against yours with fervor, hands skating down the fabric of your sweater and finding your hips with ease, before he pulls you into his lap, not breaking the kiss.

It's unlike anything you could have imagined, more than any fantasy you could have made up in your head. The feeling of his supple lips, the tickle of his mustache, the warmth that surges up, up, up in a fluid wave through your body, the taste of the peppermint and stale coffee-

It’s addictive, maddening, hypnotic.

He groans into your mouth, the sound not unlike what he made moments ago, his hands subtly pushing up the edge of your sweater to find the heated skin of your waist fueling the spark that burns through your body. Goosebumps trace along your flesh with a heavy hand, the white hot fire that comes with the feeling of his skin on yours traveling from the base of your throat to the pit of your stomach.

“Javi-“ You breathe his name on a gasp, earning a groan from the man beneath you as he pulls you harder against him, moving his lips down the column of your throat into the shadow of your jaw whispering things in Spanish that you can’t understand. Your hands move up the expanse of his chest and find refuge in his hair, the dark locks falling beneath your fingertips, soft and curled slightly on the ends. Your name comes out of his mouth in a throaty whisper, rumbling up through where your chest is pressed against his.

You'd never heard anyone say it like that before, almost reverent, cherished, like you're his. As if after all this time you've always been his and it's always led to this moment. And it makes something inside break open and flood into the cavity of your chest.

Then all at once he stops, pulling back from you, pupils dilated slightly, looking at you in a daze, his chest rising and falling in rapid gasps.

“We shouldn’t- I shouldn’t.” His voice comes out in a hoarse whisper.

The embarrassment is back tenfold, because now that you’d felt him under you, felt the urgency of his touch against your body, his lips soft against your mouth you don’t know how the hell you’re going to do anything else whenever you see him.

“I'm sorry-“ You mutter before you can stop it, and try to move back off of him, misunderstanding what he means.

Javier kisses you again, holding you firmly on his lap, eyes darker than you'd ever seen them.

“Please stop apologizing.” He murmurs against your lips. “I meant that I don’t want it to happen like this. I at least want to take you out to dinner first. You're-" Javier swallows. "You deserve that."

You blink in surprise. It wasn't that you thought Javier wasn't a gentleman, it was that you weren't expecting him to say something like that. Not when there was no one left in the entire embassy and he didn't have to stop...

But with this pause, reality came roaring back in.

He's my boss. What would other people say?

“Are you sure that’s not a bad idea?” Your fingers gently move through the strands of hair at the back of his head, which makes Javier sigh and lean into your touch.

“It’s the worst idea. Been trying to not ask you out for three years.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Javier chuckles

“It is a bad idea.” You bite the inside of your cheek.

It was. Beyond bad. Practically forbidden. Not to mention you knew for a fact that Javier would probably think you were just too weird and awkward to care about a follow up date and then it would ruin the relationship the two of you had.

But you wanted to say yes. That's an understatement, you wanted to scream yes from the mountaintops and perform a rendition of "The Hills Are Alive" with Julie Andrews.

"Terrible, cariño." Javier smirks a little wider, the grip he has on your waist tightening with a promise that flashes in his dark eyes.

“Maybe not coffee.” You say hesitantly.

"Yeah, that'd probably be safer.” Javier admits. “Though I think if I took you out for a drink there’s always the possibility you could spill your martini and stab me with an olive skewer.”

Your cheeks heat in embarrassment.

"But it's worth the risk." He murmurs leaning his forehead against yours.

"Somethings always are." You echo with a soft smile, listening to the rumble of thunder shaking the brick, mortar, and glass of the embassy. The rest of the world melting away and leaving you just with Javi for a few precious moments when all hell rages outside the white washed walls and musty carpets.

Anything can happen in a thunderstorm, you just never imagined something like this.

A/N: Again Alex congratulations on the 5k and giving me such an inspirational gif for your challenge! It was fun for him, and of course to watch some Narcos again 🥰

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated! The comments really keep me going!

Taglist:

@angrydragon90 @jollyhunter @kmc1989

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Worth The Risk

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: When you and your boss get stuck working late at the Embassy, a heated accident makes the two of you realize that maybe some things are worth the risk. Written for @zepskies 5K follower celebration!

Tropes: Little tiny bit of grumpy sunshine, Tiny bit of shy/awkward reader, Boss and Secretary Dynamic, Soft! Javier. Mutual Pining.

Word Count: 4.6K

Warnings: I'm labelling this one as 18+ (just in case)! Sexual situationish? Cursing, Super awkward situation, Make out session, References to sex (there's quite a bit), References to Javi being a tiny bit of a slut *said affectionately* (because we all love him for it), Loverboy! Javi, Accidental Handjob (I don't know what to call it)? Reader is kinda awkward, Reader has anxiety, Reader being a little bit self-deprecating? Reader has a bit of a developed backstory for the fic, Javier being a little bit self-deprecating? Javier might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is no use of y/n! I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite! I have never written for Javier before, so please, PLEASE be gentle.

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

A/N: Alright Alex, happy 5k! This one rolled out of me due to the very, VERY inspirational gif that you sent me (still can't look at it for too long without stroking out 🤣). I'll have to return the favor someday 😈 But to everyone else, this one is really just something silly that was living rent free in my head so enjoy!

There is something magical about rain.

The gentle patter against a rooftop like a soothing melody, the racing droplets down a window that you can trace with your fingertips, the distant rumble of thunder over the mountains shaking through the lush green forests, the heady smell of rain that comes moments before a downpour, the flash of lightning that captures the world in shades of black and white- it makes the rest of the world melt away, isolates you to one single place to bask in the enchanting sounds and beauty of it all.

Anything can happen in a thunderstorm.

Of course there are some things that are not magical about rain.

The feeling of the cold droplets slipping below your collar and trickling down your spine, the squish of your soaked socks and shoes when you step into a puddle that was a little deeper than you thought it was, the flash of lightning above your head that is a little too close for comfort followed the deep crack of thunder…

Or when you’re fighting for your life with a stubborn umbrella in a heavy downpour that won’t do the one job it was literally made for and you end up looking like a drowned rat by the time you get to where you were going, and you’re too embarrassed to go in so you just turn to take the walk of shame home, and end up running into your “so sexy it should be a crime” boss.

Not speaking from personal experience or anything…

The raging thunderstorm that pummeled and shook the American Embassy was trying it's best to rival the storm that Noah survived, and was also unfortunately keeping you from your warm bed past midnight on a Tuesday.

An umbrella would have been worthless at this point given that the rain seemed to be coming up from the ground and because your ancient Nova had refused to start this morning and you'd walked to work, you were stuck.

But you didn't mind staying late for one reason:

Javier Peña

The level of crush you had on your boss was shameful, but you hadn't meant for this to happen, honest! He was just, so, so…

Javier sighs where he sits at his desk, leaning back to prop his feet up on the strong metal table top while the muscles of his right arm strain against the sleeve of his orange button up, making your throat constrict.

Sexy.

Which yes, maybe it was a bit of a cliché, a secretary falling in love with her boss that was way out of her league in every single way, but you were.

Sure Javier had a reputation with women. Goodness knows you had heard every single scandalous whisper about his numerous escapades and seen every sultry look from the women who passed by the office hoping to catch a glimpse of your boss hard at work. The same women who told you how lucky you were to work with Javier and how jealous they were of you.

They didn't need to be. You knew for a fact that Javier didn't see you as more than just his secretary.

How you ask? Because of the way he treated you.

You'd seen Javier charming someone back to his apartment- the moves, the smirk, the mischievous glint in his whiskey colored eyes when he knew he had someone on the hook, and the low rumble of his chuckle that made you lose all feeling in your legs. You'd seen the same song and dance at every Christmas, New Years, and whatever other holiday that you were celebrating at the Embassy party.

But around you, Javier was a different man.

Yes he still had the same charm, but he was softer. He genuinely would ask you how your day was going whenever he walked by, listened to you whisper whatever gossip you picked up at the water cooler on the fifth floor or in the break room and laughed with you, suggested places to order lunch from where he knew you would find something too, walked with you to your car when it was late, and whenever he went out with Steve he always brought something back for you, whether it be a nice cup of well-needed coffee or a Cocada from your favorite bakery down the street.

He was a good boss. Anyone would be lucky to work with him.

Plus you'd seen the kind of women he was interested in and you weren't one of them. You weren't confident or outgoing. Sure you'd speak to your boss, Steve, and a few people around the office when you had to, but you were not okay with just striking up a conversation or joining a group mid-sentence because that was like a suicide mission. Plus being as clumsy as you were, you'd probably take a few steps towards the group then eat it on the musty carpets.

And you certainly didn't dress like any of them- well, some of them dressed for their profession and that was okay, but you definitely couldn't imagine wearing anything like that around the office.

Your wardrobe consisted of oversized sweaters, long flowy skirts, and soft dresses that draped rather than squeezed your boobs into submission and didn't prop them up to say "hello." But you wanted to be comfy at work because you were there so many hours during the day and you didn't think that you'd be able to breathe if you wore anything tight when you sat down.

That wasn't to say that you didn't "try" when you were at work, just that your sense of style was more… reserved than the women you saw Javier gravitate towards.

So basically you were trying to not be attracted to your boss, and after three years all your crush had done was triple in size and follow you around like a smelly water buffalo.

Javier sighs again, drawing your gaze up from the stack of notes you were organizing into chronological order for him. His eyes skate over to you, a weary smile twitching at the end of his lips before his attention drops back to the folder perched in his lap.

Everyone else had gone home for the night, and usually by now Javier would have gone too, but he had a meeting with Ambassador Noonan in the morning and was trying to prepare.

Maybe he needs some coffee.

You think to yourself as you rise from your cluttered desk making your way to the small break room two rooms down the corridor, not noticing the way Javier's eyes follow you.

He had told you to go home earlier, told you that he had this handled, but you refused. Javier didn’t understand why you wouldn't go, but he was happy you didn't, because it meant that he got to be with you for just a few more hours than normal. Got to hear your soft sigh as your shuffled through papers, got to see the way your face got that cute scrunch when you were concentrating, and got to smell the bright mist of your citrus perfume whenever you walked by. The same perfume that he had to stop himself from trying to gulp down from the air like a man dying of thirst in the dessert, because the way you smelled was like a drug to him. It made him feel like an addict of the worst kind.

And then also made him feel like the scummiest guy on the planet because he was your boss and shouldn't be having any of those thoughts about you, but he couldn't help it. Not when since the first day he met you, Javier felt his dead heart start to beat again. Not when being in the same room with you was like standing too close to the sun, blinded and filled with so much heat he thought it would all come pouring out of him like molten lava.

Javier Peña had it bad. Steve often teased him about it and Javi shrugged him off, but Javier knew in his heart that there wasn't much he could do to change it.

Because he wanted more, but he knew that he shouldn't.

You busy yourself with the steps of making coffee. Measuring out the grounds, filling the pot with water, etc. And when you have two mugs filled to the brim with the elixir of life, you turn to go back to the office.

Unfortunately what you didn't know is that Javier came to see what you were doing, and at the exact moment you turn around with much more enthusiasm than someone should have at 12:39 on a Tuesday night/Wednesday morning, Javier enters the room.

You crash into him, pouring the entire contents of both mugs onto the front of his shirt and down his pants.

Javier makes a sound like a wounded animal.

Coming from someone who had been shot in the past, you now knew that taking scalding hot coffee seemed to be the same level of pain as a bullet wound.

"Shit!" You scream, placing the empty mugs on the counter before turning back to note the prominent stain all over Javier's lower stomach and the front of his blue jeans.

Before Javier can reach for the paper towels to clean himself, your hand comes down hard on the center of his chest, stress fueled anxiety giving you almost superhuman strength as you shove him backwards into one of the plastic chairs that sit idle around the pathetic table.

A startled yelp comes through Javier's lips as he stumbles back in surprise, landing unceremoniously in a chair, stunned. You don’t give him time to process the events that happened in the last three seconds, before you're dropping to your knees in front of him, paper towel roll in hand, scrubbing furiously at his lap.

"Oh fuck, Mr. Peña I am so SO sorry!" You babble, working your hands back and forth on the front of his pants, leaning over him. "I didn’t know that you were coming in here and I wanted to make us some coffee because I know that you've been working so hard tonight and-"

Javier groans low under his breath. "It's okay I-" He tries to push you away, but you continue to dab and wipe at the coffee that has soaked through his jeans.

"It's not okay! You could have second or third degree burns." You stare up at him wide eyed.

One of his hands is fisted on his knee, the other gripping the plastic edge of the table like a lifeline, his jaw clenched tight as you work your hands over him.

"I'm fine-" He says through gritted teeth, brown eyes flashing with something that looks a lot like pain.

Maybe we should go to the hospital!

"No, you're not here-" You prop yourself up, placing your hands on Javier's muscular thighs, your face level with his crotch, and blow.

Javier's body constricts, his knuckles turning white from grabbing the table.

"Is that better?" You look up at him again, eyes wide and hopeful, anxiety and embarrassment flooding the synapses in your brain. You were so worried of Javier being in pain, of him being hurt, that you weren't considering the opposite.

Because Javier Peña is trying not to come in his pants like a damn teenager.

He lets out a strangled sound, but doesn't answer, so you try again, blowing over his crotch and hoping that it soothes the scalded flesh.

“You have to stop-“ Javier says in a breathy whisper, face contorting in something that looks like pain. His dark hair is scrunched and wild, sweat beading along his forehead, and his eyes squeezed shut as if he can’t look at you.

Can you sue someone for spilling coffee on you?

“Don’t worry I think I can get it all off!” You say, beginning to frantically dab at his pants again.

Javier was in hell… but fuck it felt a lot like heaven.

He was trying his best not to focus on what you were doing. His mind flitting from photos of M-19 personnel massacred by Pablo Escobar, photos of plane crash victims, memories of drug busts, to other images of whatever else could take his mind off of what was happening in his lap, but nothing was working.

Not when you were kneeling in front of him, eyes wide with fear and worry for him, wearing one of those handmade oversized sweaters that Javier thought made you look unbelievably cute, soft hands rubbing, dabbing, and squeezing him, your cool breath rushing through his coffee soaked pants, and with you apologizing over and over in that sweet voice of yours.

The same one that Javi tried not to think about in the dead of night when all was quiet and he was alone, when another voice inside his head (that sounded remarkably like Steve) told him not to start something with his secretary-

But Javi couldn't help it.

You were unlike anyone he'd met in his entire life. You were soft, kind, generous, with a smile that always made something deep inside Javi break whenever you looked at him. The same smile that he sought after a day without end, because it was the only thing that made him feel like what he was doing meant something after years of him sinking deeper into the mire.

The moment that you started working for him, Javier found himself excited to come to work and that was something that warranted a whole fleet of flying pigs.

You shouldn't be working here, let alone living here. Whenever you didn't show up to work or were a few minutes late Javier's mind went right to the worst, that something had happened to you. That someone had done something and he was too late, because Colombia chewed up and spat out the kind of person you were.

It was why he couldn't bear the thought of you walking alone to your car after work, and why he seemed to be in the same neighborhood on the weekends when you made your way to the market down the street from your apartment to go grocery shopping. It was also why he was trying his best to keep his distance from you, because someone like you had no business being with someone like him.

"Fuck." Javi half moans, because he can’t keep it in.

You look up at him,  still frantically wiping the front of his pants with a coffee stained paper towel. Javier isn't looking at you, his head is tilted upwards at the ceiling and his eyes are squeezed shut, sweat beading along his hairline, breath coming in shallow gasps.

"Shit, Javi I'm so, so sorry. I know it hurts. I'm going to go get some ice." You try to rise from the ground, but Javier's hand comes down on your shoulder to stop you.

"Please don't." His teeth are gritted together.

"But you're hurt. You could have a burn or-"

"I don't."

"How do you know?"

"Cariño-" Javier chuckles, his eyes blink open, turning a honeyed whiskey in the light. "I stopped thinking about that the second you dropped to your knees and started cleaning me up. It doesn’t hurt. And if you keep doing what you’re doing we’re going to have a bigger problem.”

“What do you mea-“

It still doesn't dawn on you what he's talking about or why he would stop thinking about hot coffee burning him until your gaze lowers again to his lap.

Anything you’re about to say evaporates from the tip of your tongue.

In your eagerness and embarrassment, you'd forgotten exactly what it would have felt like for him when you scrubbed, dabbed, and blew on the front of his pants for the past two minutes.

Oh. My. Damn.

You think to yourself as you see the outline of Javier's large erection straining against the zipper of his coffee stained jeans.

How does he- nope nope not thinking about that right now.

By now your face is so warm with embarrassment you're sure that if someone were to crack an egg it would be fried to perfection in seconds. The heat rivals the eruption of mount Vesuvius, rivals the surface of the sun if someone ran a train full of gasoline into it. There is no coming back from this, no rock big enough to hide under, no cave dark and deep enough to cover your shame.

You lean back on your heels, dropping your face into your hands. "I am so sorry-" The word had lost all meaning given how many times you'd said it within the last five minutes, but given the situation, you had no idea what to say.

To say you were mortified was an understatement. You were so embarrassed that you wanted the faded musty maroon carpet to come up and swallow you whole, so embarrassed that you wanted to go outside, open your mouth, and see if you could drown in the heavy downpour.

I'm never going to be able to show my face here again. I'm going to have to quit my job and change my name. And without a job I'll never have enough money to pay my rent or feed my cat, and if I can't feed my cat he's going to eat my face while I'm sleeping and-

Javier coughs out a laugh, the same one that usually made you feel like you'd swallowed sunshine, but not now. Especially not now not when you could call your own time of death.

You could imagine the gravestone:

Here lies so and so died, when she accidentally gave her boss a handjob.

You could also imagine the ridiculous rumors that would stem from this moment. The things that everyone would say about you the second they found out about this.

You can’t move, can’t even breathe.

The longer you sit there the worse you feel. Embarrassment, shame, and anxiety prickles along your skin, jumping and crackling through every nerve ending, making tears burn in your eyes. You wanted to curl up into a little ball under your desk and rot.

It was the single most embarrassing moment of your life and you knew that there would be no other event that would ever top it.

Javier slides out of his chair to kneel in front of you, whispering your name, but you can't look at him, can't do anything.

The thought of running outside into the thunderstorm crosses your mind, but you’d worn heels today and you didn’t think you’d get far running. And it would have been even more embarrassing if you slipped and busted your nose open on the marble floor in the lobby, because you knew that Javier would insist on driving you to the hospital and you didn’t want to sit through that car ride if your life depended on it.

He says your name again, this time gently pulling your hands from your face.  “Why are you crying?” Worry flickers behind his golden gaze, thumbs brushing over the soft skin of your wrists.

“Because I’m embarrassed. I mean I touched you- touched it- I-“

My great grandchildren will still feel my shame. It will haunt them from beyond my grave. They won’t know a moment of peace!

“If anyone should be embarrassed it’s me.” Javier chuckles.

“I don’t think you still have enough of a sense of shame for that Mr. Peña.” You sniffle out a laugh.

It was true. You knew his reputation, had heard the rumor mill a hundred times over, not to mention you had fielded a number of angry phone calls directed at your boss all of whom you’d told them that Javier wasn’t there, while he stood there and made frantic gestures with his hands.

“Oh back to Mr. Peña I see.” He brushes a strand of hair out of your face. Javier's touch trails sparks against your skin, making your throat tight.

“Huh?" You blink in confusion.

“A minute ago you called me Javi.”

"I did?”

It was hard to think when he was still holding one of your wrists in his warm calloused hands. The same hands worn rough from years of holding a gun, and the ones that had only ever treated you with kindness in the three years that you'd worked for him.

"I don't think I've ever heard you call me anything other than 'Mr. Peña' since you got hired." He raises an eyebrow, signature smirk in place.

"Oh well- that's because I- um. You're my boss and I- I ."

I don’t want to get used to calling you anything else because then I won’t be able to stop.

"I like it when you call me Javi." His fingers trace across your chin, making your cheeks heat.

Any semblance of shame or embarrassment that you felt was quickly fading away with his touch. It was the most that he'd ever touched you, except for the few accidental brushes of your fingertips whenever you handed him things, or whenever he somehow was grocery shopping at the same market and he would gently place his hand on the small of your back to lead you through the crowded stalls.

You never understood why he shopped there too. It was thirty minutes in the opposite direction of where he lived.

This isn't happening. This is just a daydream I'm having and-

“But I don’t like it when you cry.” Javier’s mouth pulls down into a frown. “I promise it’s okay-“

“I’m sorry-” You wipe at your eyes with the back of your free hand.

You couldn't seem to stop saying it. But again you honestly didn't know what else to say. Sorry seemed to cover a multitude of sins. Not to mention the way that Javier was touching you and looking at you right now, and the energy that seemed to pulse and thrum through the air was making your head a little fuzzy.

Before you can say or do anything more, Javier leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead. “You have nothing to be sorry about. You were just trying to help.”

Your hand falls automatically to the front of Javier's orange button up, gasping softly in surprise. He freezes, eyes wide as if he can’t believe that he did it either.

And he can't. Javier didn't meant to, but he can't stand to see you cry. Not when each time you did, it was like the sun was hidden behind the clouds and not when it was like a piece of himself was dying. And he didn't think that you should be embarrassed about this, because you were honestly just trying to help him.

The odd energy pulses again, threading through the air between the two of you, as neither one pulls away. His dark gaze is on you, hesitant, as if he's waiting for something you can't see. Some subtle que or tick that only he knows.

The spicy smell of Javier's aftershave floods into your nose, familiar in the best way, and the feeling of the warmth of his body only inches away makes your brain short circuit.

For the first time in the three years that you'd worked for Javier, you don't feel like his awkward secretary, because the way that he's looking at you… it makes you feel like more.

Javier leans forward just a hair, your hand still resting on his shirt, and brushes his lips against yours, eyes open, gauging your reaction. A sigh works it's way through your parted lips as you sink into the kiss, the hand you have resting on his shirt curling enough to feel the subtle shift of his muscles move and it's exactly what Javier needed.

His lips fall against yours with fervor, hands skating down the fabric of your sweater and finding your hips with ease, before he pulls you into his lap, not breaking the kiss.

It's unlike anything you could have imagined, more than any fantasy you could have made up in your head. The feeling of his supple lips, the tickle of his mustache, the warmth that surges up, up, up in a fluid wave through your body, the taste of the peppermint and stale coffee-

It’s addictive, maddening, hypnotic.

He groans into your mouth, the sound not unlike what he made moments ago, his hands subtly pushing up the edge of your sweater to find the heated skin of your waist fueling the spark that burns through your body. Goosebumps trace along your flesh with a heavy hand, the white hot fire that comes with the feeling of his skin on yours traveling from the base of your throat to the pit of your stomach.

“Javi-“ You breathe his name on a gasp, earning a groan from the man beneath you as he pulls you harder against him, moving his lips down the column of your throat into the shadow of your jaw whispering things in Spanish that you can’t understand. Your hands move up the expanse of his chest and find refuge in his hair, the dark locks falling beneath your fingertips, soft and curled slightly on the ends. Your name comes out of his mouth in a throaty whisper, rumbling up through where your chest is pressed against his.

You'd never heard anyone say it like that before, almost reverent, cherished, like you're his. As if after all this time you've always been his and it's always led to this moment. And it makes something inside break open and flood into the cavity of your chest.

Then all at once he stops, pulling back from you, pupils dilated slightly, looking at you in a daze, his chest rising and falling in rapid gasps.

“We shouldn’t- I shouldn’t.” His voice comes out in a hoarse whisper.

The embarrassment is back tenfold, because now that you’d felt him under you, felt the urgency of his touch against your body, his lips soft against your mouth you don’t know how the hell you’re going to do anything else whenever you see him.

“I'm sorry-“ You mutter before you can stop it, and try to move back off of him, misunderstanding what he means.

Javier kisses you again, holding you firmly on his lap, eyes darker than you'd ever seen them.

“Please stop apologizing.” He murmurs against your lips. “I meant that I don’t want it to happen like this. I at least want to take you out to dinner first. You're-" Javier swallows. "You deserve that."

You blink in surprise. It wasn't that you thought Javier wasn't a gentleman, it was that you weren't expecting him to say something like that. Not when there was no one left in the entire embassy and he didn't have to stop...

But with this pause, reality came roaring back in.

He's my boss. What would other people say?

“Are you sure that’s not a bad idea?” Your fingers gently move through the strands of hair at the back of his head, which makes Javier sigh and lean into your touch.

“It’s the worst idea. Been trying to not ask you out for three years.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Javier chuckles

“It is a bad idea.” You bite the inside of your cheek.

It was. Beyond bad. Practically forbidden. Not to mention you knew for a fact that Javier would probably think you were just too weird and awkward to care about a follow up date and then it would ruin the relationship the two of you had.

But you wanted to say yes. That's an understatement, you wanted to scream yes from the mountaintops and perform a rendition of "The Hills Are Alive" with Julie Andrews.

"Terrible, cariño." Javier smirks a little wider, the grip he has on your waist tightening with a promise that flashes in his dark eyes.

“Maybe not coffee.” You say hesitantly.

"Yeah, that'd probably be safer.” Javier admits. “Though I think if I took you out for a drink there’s always the possibility you could spill your martini and stab me with an olive skewer.”

Your cheeks heat in embarrassment.

"But it's worth the risk." He murmurs leaning his forehead against yours.

"Somethings always are." You echo with a soft smile, listening to the rumble of thunder shaking the brick, mortar, and glass of the embassy. The rest of the world melting away and leaving you just with Javi for a few precious moments when all hell rages outside the white washed walls and musty carpets.

Anything can happen in a thunderstorm, you just never imagined something like this.

A/N: Again Alex congratulations on the 5k and giving me such an inspirational gif for your challenge! It was fun for him, and of course to watch some Narcos again 🥰

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated! The comments really keep me going!

Taglist:

@angrydragon90 @jollyhunter @kmc1989

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Worth The Risk

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: When you and your boss get stuck working late at the Embassy, a heated accident makes the two of you realize that maybe some things are worth the risk. Written for @zepskies 5K follower celebration!

Tropes: Little tiny bit of grumpy sunshine, Tiny bit of shy/awkward reader, Boss and Secretary Dynamic, Soft! Javier. Mutual Pining.

Word Count: 4.6K

Warnings: I'm labelling this one as 18+ (just in case)! Sexual situationish? Cursing, Super awkward situation, Make out session, References to sex (there's quite a bit), References to Javi being a tiny bit of a slut *said affectionately* (because we all love him for it), Loverboy! Javi, Accidental Handjob (I don't know what to call it)? Reader is kinda awkward, Reader has anxiety, Reader being a little bit self-deprecating? Reader has a bit of a developed backstory for the fic, Javier being a little bit self-deprecating? Javier might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is no use of y/n! I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite! I have never written for Javier before, so please, PLEASE be gentle.

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

A/N: Alright Alex, happy 5k! This one rolled out of me due to the very, VERY inspirational gif that you sent me (still can't look at it for too long without stroking out 🤣). I'll have to return the favor someday 😈 But to everyone else, this one is really just something silly that was living rent free in my head so enjoy!

There is something magical about rain.

The gentle patter against a rooftop like a soothing melody, the racing droplets down a window that you can trace with your fingertips, the distant rumble of thunder over the mountains shaking through the lush green forests, the heady smell of rain that comes moments before a downpour, the flash of lightning that captures the world in shades of black and white- it makes the rest of the world melt away, isolates you to one single place to bask in the enchanting sounds and beauty of it all.

Anything can happen in a thunderstorm.

Of course there are some things that are not magical about rain.

The feeling of the cold droplets slipping below your collar and trickling down your spine, the squish of your soaked socks and shoes when you step into a puddle that was a little deeper than you thought it was, the flash of lightning above your head that is a little too close for comfort followed the deep crack of thunder…

Or when you’re fighting for your life with a stubborn umbrella in a heavy downpour that won’t do the one job it was literally made for and you end up looking like a drowned rat by the time you get to where you were going, and you’re too embarrassed to go in so you just turn to take the walk of shame home, and end up running into your “so sexy it should be a crime” boss.

Not speaking from personal experience or anything…

The raging thunderstorm that pummeled and shook the American Embassy was trying it's best to rival the storm that Noah survived, and was also unfortunately keeping you from your warm bed past midnight on a Tuesday.

An umbrella would have been worthless at this point given that the rain seemed to be coming up from the ground and because your ancient Nova had refused to start this morning and you'd walked to work, you were stuck.

But you didn't mind staying late for one reason:

Javier Peña

The level of crush you had on your boss was shameful, but you hadn't meant for this to happen, honest! He was just, so, so…

Javier sighs where he sits at his desk, leaning back to prop his feet up on the strong metal table top while the muscles of his right arm strain against the sleeve of his orange button up, making your throat constrict.

Sexy.

Which yes, maybe it was a bit of a cliché, a secretary falling in love with her boss that was way out of her league in every single way, but you were.

Sure Javier had a reputation with women. Goodness knows you had heard every single scandalous whisper about his numerous escapades and seen every sultry look from the women who passed by the office hoping to catch a glimpse of your boss hard at work. The same women who told you how lucky you were to work with Javier and how jealous they were of you.

They didn't need to be. You knew for a fact that Javier didn't see you as more than just his secretary.

How you ask? Because of the way he treated you.

You'd seen Javier charming someone back to his apartment- the moves, the smirk, the mischievous glint in his whiskey colored eyes when he knew he had someone on the hook, and the low rumble of his chuckle that made you lose all feeling in your legs. You'd seen the same song and dance at every Christmas, New Years, and whatever other holiday that you were celebrating at the Embassy party.

But around you, Javier was a different man.

Yes he still had the same charm, but he was softer. He genuinely would ask you how your day was going whenever he walked by, listened to you whisper whatever gossip you picked up at the water cooler on the fifth floor or in the break room and laughed with you, suggested places to order lunch from where he knew you would find something too, walked with you to your car when it was late, and whenever he went out with Steve he always brought something back for you, whether it be a nice cup of well-needed coffee or a Cocada from your favorite bakery down the street.

He was a good boss. Anyone would be lucky to work with him.

Plus you'd seen the kind of women he was interested in and you weren't one of them. You weren't confident or outgoing. Sure you'd speak to your boss, Steve, and a few people around the office when you had to, but you were not okay with just striking up a conversation or joining a group mid-sentence because that was like a suicide mission. Plus being as clumsy as you were, you'd probably take a few steps towards the group then eat it on the musty carpets.

And you certainly didn't dress like any of them- well, some of them dressed for their profession and that was okay, but you definitely couldn't imagine wearing anything like that around the office.

Your wardrobe consisted of oversized sweaters, long flowy skirts, and soft dresses that draped rather than squeezed your boobs into submission and didn't prop them up to say "hello." But you wanted to be comfy at work because you were there so many hours during the day and you didn't think that you'd be able to breathe if you wore anything tight when you sat down.

That wasn't to say that you didn't "try" when you were at work, just that your sense of style was more… reserved than the women you saw Javier gravitate towards.

So basically you were trying to not be attracted to your boss, and after three years all your crush had done was triple in size and follow you around like a smelly water buffalo.

Javier sighs again, drawing your gaze up from the stack of notes you were organizing into chronological order for him. His eyes skate over to you, a weary smile twitching at the end of his lips before his attention drops back to the folder perched in his lap.

Everyone else had gone home for the night, and usually by now Javier would have gone too, but he had a meeting with Ambassador Noonan in the morning and was trying to prepare.

Maybe he needs some coffee.

You think to yourself as you rise from your cluttered desk making your way to the small break room two rooms down the corridor, not noticing the way Javier's eyes follow you.

He had told you to go home earlier, told you that he had this handled, but you refused. Javier didn’t understand why you wouldn't go, but he was happy you didn't, because it meant that he got to be with you for just a few more hours than normal. Got to hear your soft sigh as your shuffled through papers, got to see the way your face got that cute scrunch when you were concentrating, and got to smell the bright mist of your citrus perfume whenever you walked by. The same perfume that he had to stop himself from trying to gulp down from the air like a man dying of thirst in the dessert, because the way you smelled was like a drug to him. It made him feel like an addict of the worst kind.

And then also made him feel like the scummiest guy on the planet because he was your boss and shouldn't be having any of those thoughts about you, but he couldn't help it. Not when since the first day he met you, Javier felt his dead heart start to beat again. Not when being in the same room with you was like standing too close to the sun, blinded and filled with so much heat he thought it would all come pouring out of him like molten lava.

Javier Peña had it bad. Steve often teased him about it and Javi shrugged him off, but Javier knew in his heart that there wasn't much he could do to change it.

Because he wanted more, but he knew that he shouldn't.

You busy yourself with the steps of making coffee. Measuring out the grounds, filling the pot with water, etc. And when you have two mugs filled to the brim with the elixir of life, you turn to go back to the office.

Unfortunately what you didn't know is that Javier came to see what you were doing, and at the exact moment you turn around with much more enthusiasm than someone should have at 12:39 on a Tuesday night/Wednesday morning, Javier enters the room.

You crash into him, pouring the entire contents of both mugs onto the front of his shirt and down his pants.

Javier makes a sound like a wounded animal.

Coming from someone who had been shot in the past, you now knew that taking scalding hot coffee seemed to be the same level of pain as a bullet wound.

"Shit!" You scream, placing the empty mugs on the counter before turning back to note the prominent stain all over Javier's lower stomach and the front of his blue jeans.

Before Javier can reach for the paper towels to clean himself, your hand comes down hard on the center of his chest, stress fueled anxiety giving you almost superhuman strength as you shove him backwards into one of the plastic chairs that sit idle around the pathetic table.

A startled yelp comes through Javier's lips as he stumbles back in surprise, landing unceremoniously in a chair, stunned. You don’t give him time to process the events that happened in the last three seconds, before you're dropping to your knees in front of him, paper towel roll in hand, scrubbing furiously at his lap.

"Oh fuck, Mr. Peña I am so SO sorry!" You babble, working your hands back and forth on the front of his pants, leaning over him. "I didn’t know that you were coming in here and I wanted to make us some coffee because I know that you've been working so hard tonight and-"

Javier groans low under his breath. "It's okay I-" He tries to push you away, but you continue to dab and wipe at the coffee that has soaked through his jeans.

"It's not okay! You could have second or third degree burns." You stare up at him wide eyed.

One of his hands is fisted on his knee, the other gripping the plastic edge of the table like a lifeline, his jaw clenched tight as you work your hands over him.

"I'm fine-" He says through gritted teeth, brown eyes flashing with something that looks a lot like pain.

Maybe we should go to the hospital!

"No, you're not here-" You prop yourself up, placing your hands on Javier's muscular thighs, your face level with his crotch, and blow.

Javier's body constricts, his knuckles turning white from grabbing the table.

"Is that better?" You look up at him again, eyes wide and hopeful, anxiety and embarrassment flooding the synapses in your brain. You were so worried of Javier being in pain, of him being hurt, that you weren't considering the opposite.

Because Javier Peña is trying not to come in his pants like a damn teenager.

He lets out a strangled sound, but doesn't answer, so you try again, blowing over his crotch and hoping that it soothes the scalded flesh.

“You have to stop-“ Javier says in a breathy whisper, face contorting in something that looks like pain. His dark hair is scrunched and wild, sweat beading along his forehead, and his eyes squeezed shut as if he can’t look at you.

Can you sue someone for spilling coffee on you?

“Don’t worry I think I can get it all off!” You say, beginning to frantically dab at his pants again.

Javier was in hell… but fuck it felt a lot like heaven.

He was trying his best not to focus on what you were doing. His mind flitting from photos of M-19 personnel massacred by Pablo Escobar, photos of plane crash victims, memories of drug busts, to other images of whatever else could take his mind off of what was happening in his lap, but nothing was working.

Not when you were kneeling in front of him, eyes wide with fear and worry for him, wearing one of those handmade oversized sweaters that Javier thought made you look unbelievably cute, soft hands rubbing, dabbing, and squeezing him, your cool breath rushing through his coffee soaked pants, and with you apologizing over and over in that sweet voice of yours.

The same one that Javi tried not to think about in the dead of night when all was quiet and he was alone, when another voice inside his head (that sounded remarkably like Steve) told him not to start something with his secretary-

But Javi couldn't help it.

You were unlike anyone he'd met in his entire life. You were soft, kind, generous, with a smile that always made something deep inside Javi break whenever you looked at him. The same smile that he sought after a day without end, because it was the only thing that made him feel like what he was doing meant something after years of him sinking deeper into the mire.

The moment that you started working for him, Javier found himself excited to come to work and that was something that warranted a whole fleet of flying pigs.

You shouldn't be working here, let alone living here. Whenever you didn't show up to work or were a few minutes late Javier's mind went right to the worst, that something had happened to you. That someone had done something and he was too late, because Colombia chewed up and spat out the kind of person you were.

It was why he couldn't bear the thought of you walking alone to your car after work, and why he seemed to be in the same neighborhood on the weekends when you made your way to the market down the street from your apartment to go grocery shopping. It was also why he was trying his best to keep his distance from you, because someone like you had no business being with someone like him.

"Fuck." Javi half moans, because he can’t keep it in.

You look up at him,  still frantically wiping the front of his pants with a coffee stained paper towel. Javier isn't looking at you, his head is tilted upwards at the ceiling and his eyes are squeezed shut, sweat beading along his hairline, breath coming in shallow gasps.

"Shit, Javi I'm so, so sorry. I know it hurts. I'm going to go get some ice." You try to rise from the ground, but Javier's hand comes down on your shoulder to stop you.

"Please don't." His teeth are gritted together.

"But you're hurt. You could have a burn or-"

"I don't."

"How do you know?"

"Cariño-" Javier chuckles, his eyes blink open, turning a honeyed whiskey in the light. "I stopped thinking about that the second you dropped to your knees and started cleaning me up. It doesn’t hurt. And if you keep doing what you’re doing we’re going to have a bigger problem.”

“What do you mea-“

It still doesn't dawn on you what he's talking about or why he would stop thinking about hot coffee burning him until your gaze lowers again to his lap.

Anything you’re about to say evaporates from the tip of your tongue.

In your eagerness and embarrassment, you'd forgotten exactly what it would have felt like for him when you scrubbed, dabbed, and blew on the front of his pants for the past two minutes.

Oh. My. Damn.

You think to yourself as you see the outline of Javier's large erection straining against the zipper of his coffee stained jeans.

How does he- nope nope not thinking about that right now.

By now your face is so warm with embarrassment you're sure that if someone were to crack an egg it would be fried to perfection in seconds. The heat rivals the eruption of mount Vesuvius, rivals the surface of the sun if someone ran a train full of gasoline into it. There is no coming back from this, no rock big enough to hide under, no cave dark and deep enough to cover your shame.

You lean back on your heels, dropping your face into your hands. "I am so sorry-" The word had lost all meaning given how many times you'd said it within the last five minutes, but given the situation, you had no idea what to say.

To say you were mortified was an understatement. You were so embarrassed that you wanted the faded musty maroon carpet to come up and swallow you whole, so embarrassed that you wanted to go outside, open your mouth, and see if you could drown in the heavy downpour.

I'm never going to be able to show my face here again. I'm going to have to quit my job and change my name. And without a job I'll never have enough money to pay my rent or feed my cat, and if I can't feed my cat he's going to eat my face while I'm sleeping and-

Javier coughs out a laugh, the same one that usually made you feel like you'd swallowed sunshine, but not now. Especially not now not when you could call your own time of death.

You could imagine the gravestone:

Here lies so and so died, when she accidentally gave her boss a handjob.

You could also imagine the ridiculous rumors that would stem from this moment. The things that everyone would say about you the second they found out about this.

You can’t move, can’t even breathe.

The longer you sit there the worse you feel. Embarrassment, shame, and anxiety prickles along your skin, jumping and crackling through every nerve ending, making tears burn in your eyes. You wanted to curl up into a little ball under your desk and rot.

It was the single most embarrassing moment of your life and you knew that there would be no other event that would ever top it.

Javier slides out of his chair to kneel in front of you, whispering your name, but you can't look at him, can't do anything.

The thought of running outside into the thunderstorm crosses your mind, but you’d worn heels today and you didn’t think you’d get far running. And it would have been even more embarrassing if you slipped and busted your nose open on the marble floor in the lobby, because you knew that Javier would insist on driving you to the hospital and you didn’t want to sit through that car ride if your life depended on it.

He says your name again, this time gently pulling your hands from your face.  “Why are you crying?” Worry flickers behind his golden gaze, thumbs brushing over the soft skin of your wrists.

“Because I’m embarrassed. I mean I touched you- touched it- I-“

My great grandchildren will still feel my shame. It will haunt them from beyond my grave. They won’t know a moment of peace!

“If anyone should be embarrassed it’s me.” Javier chuckles.

“I don’t think you still have enough of a sense of shame for that Mr. Peña.” You sniffle out a laugh.

It was true. You knew his reputation, had heard the rumor mill a hundred times over, not to mention you had fielded a number of angry phone calls directed at your boss all of whom you’d told them that Javier wasn’t there, while he stood there and made frantic gestures with his hands.

“Oh back to Mr. Peña I see.” He brushes a strand of hair out of your face. Javier's touch trails sparks against your skin, making your throat tight.

“Huh?" You blink in confusion.

“A minute ago you called me Javi.”

"I did?”

It was hard to think when he was still holding one of your wrists in his warm calloused hands. The same hands worn rough from years of holding a gun, and the ones that had only ever treated you with kindness in the three years that you'd worked for him.

"I don't think I've ever heard you call me anything other than 'Mr. Peña' since you got hired." He raises an eyebrow, signature smirk in place.

"Oh well- that's because I- um. You're my boss and I- I ."

I don’t want to get used to calling you anything else because then I won’t be able to stop.

"I like it when you call me Javi." His fingers trace across your chin, making your cheeks heat.

Any semblance of shame or embarrassment that you felt was quickly fading away with his touch. It was the most that he'd ever touched you, except for the few accidental brushes of your fingertips whenever you handed him things, or whenever he somehow was grocery shopping at the same market and he would gently place his hand on the small of your back to lead you through the crowded stalls.

You never understood why he shopped there too. It was thirty minutes in the opposite direction of where he lived.

This isn't happening. This is just a daydream I'm having and-

“But I don’t like it when you cry.” Javier’s mouth pulls down into a frown. “I promise it’s okay-“

“I’m sorry-” You wipe at your eyes with the back of your free hand.

You couldn't seem to stop saying it. But again you honestly didn't know what else to say. Sorry seemed to cover a multitude of sins. Not to mention the way that Javier was touching you and looking at you right now, and the energy that seemed to pulse and thrum through the air was making your head a little fuzzy.

Before you can say or do anything more, Javier leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead. “You have nothing to be sorry about. You were just trying to help.”

Your hand falls automatically to the front of Javier's orange button up, gasping softly in surprise. He freezes, eyes wide as if he can’t believe that he did it either.

And he can't. Javier didn't meant to, but he can't stand to see you cry. Not when each time you did, it was like the sun was hidden behind the clouds and not when it was like a piece of himself was dying. And he didn't think that you should be embarrassed about this, because you were honestly just trying to help him.

The odd energy pulses again, threading through the air between the two of you, as neither one pulls away. His dark gaze is on you, hesitant, as if he's waiting for something you can't see. Some subtle que or tick that only he knows.

The spicy smell of Javier's aftershave floods into your nose, familiar in the best way, and the feeling of the warmth of his body only inches away makes your brain short circuit.

For the first time in the three years that you'd worked for Javier, you don't feel like his awkward secretary, because the way that he's looking at you… it makes you feel like more.

Javier leans forward just a hair, your hand still resting on his shirt, and brushes his lips against yours, eyes open, gauging your reaction. A sigh works it's way through your parted lips as you sink into the kiss, the hand you have resting on his shirt curling enough to feel the subtle shift of his muscles move and it's exactly what Javier needed.

His lips fall against yours with fervor, hands skating down the fabric of your sweater and finding your hips with ease, before he pulls you into his lap, not breaking the kiss.

It's unlike anything you could have imagined, more than any fantasy you could have made up in your head. The feeling of his supple lips, the tickle of his mustache, the warmth that surges up, up, up in a fluid wave through your body, the taste of the peppermint and stale coffee-

It’s addictive, maddening, hypnotic.

He groans into your mouth, the sound not unlike what he made moments ago, his hands subtly pushing up the edge of your sweater to find the heated skin of your waist fueling the spark that burns through your body. Goosebumps trace along your flesh with a heavy hand, the white hot fire that comes with the feeling of his skin on yours traveling from the base of your throat to the pit of your stomach.

“Javi-“ You breathe his name on a gasp, earning a groan from the man beneath you as he pulls you harder against him, moving his lips down the column of your throat into the shadow of your jaw whispering things in Spanish that you can’t understand. Your hands move up the expanse of his chest and find refuge in his hair, the dark locks falling beneath your fingertips, soft and curled slightly on the ends. Your name comes out of his mouth in a throaty whisper, rumbling up through where your chest is pressed against his.

You'd never heard anyone say it like that before, almost reverent, cherished, like you're his. As if after all this time you've always been his and it's always led to this moment. And it makes something inside break open and flood into the cavity of your chest.

Then all at once he stops, pulling back from you, pupils dilated slightly, looking at you in a daze, his chest rising and falling in rapid gasps.

“We shouldn’t- I shouldn’t.” His voice comes out in a hoarse whisper.

The embarrassment is back tenfold, because now that you’d felt him under you, felt the urgency of his touch against your body, his lips soft against your mouth you don’t know how the hell you’re going to do anything else whenever you see him.

“I'm sorry-“ You mutter before you can stop it, and try to move back off of him, misunderstanding what he means.

Javier kisses you again, holding you firmly on his lap, eyes darker than you'd ever seen them.

“Please stop apologizing.” He murmurs against your lips. “I meant that I don’t want it to happen like this. I at least want to take you out to dinner first. You're-" Javier swallows. "You deserve that."

You blink in surprise. It wasn't that you thought Javier wasn't a gentleman, it was that you weren't expecting him to say something like that. Not when there was no one left in the entire embassy and he didn't have to stop...

But with this pause, reality came roaring back in.

He's my boss. What would other people say?

“Are you sure that’s not a bad idea?” Your fingers gently move through the strands of hair at the back of his head, which makes Javier sigh and lean into your touch.

“It’s the worst idea. Been trying to not ask you out for three years.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Javier chuckles

“It is a bad idea.” You bite the inside of your cheek.

It was. Beyond bad. Practically forbidden. Not to mention you knew for a fact that Javier would probably think you were just too weird and awkward to care about a follow up date and then it would ruin the relationship the two of you had.

But you wanted to say yes. That's an understatement, you wanted to scream yes from the mountaintops and perform a rendition of "The Hills Are Alive" with Julie Andrews.

"Terrible, cariño." Javier smirks a little wider, the grip he has on your waist tightening with a promise that flashes in his dark eyes.

“Maybe not coffee.” You say hesitantly.

"Yeah, that'd probably be safer.” Javier admits. “Though I think if I took you out for a drink there’s always the possibility you could spill your martini and stab me with an olive skewer.”

Your cheeks heat in embarrassment.

"But it's worth the risk." He murmurs leaning his forehead against yours.

"Somethings always are." You echo with a soft smile, listening to the rumble of thunder shaking the brick, mortar, and glass of the embassy. The rest of the world melting away and leaving you just with Javi for a few precious moments when all hell rages outside the white washed walls and musty carpets.

Anything can happen in a thunderstorm, you just never imagined something like this.

A/N: Again Alex congratulations on the 5k and giving me such an inspirational gif for your challenge! It was fun for him, and of course to watch some Narcos again 🥰

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated! The comments really keep me going!

Taglist:

@angrydragon90 @jollyhunter @kmc1989

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Worth The Risk

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: When you and your boss get stuck working late at the Embassy, a heated accident makes the two of you realize that maybe some things are worth the risk. Written for @zepskies 5K follower celebration!

Tropes: Little tiny bit of grumpy sunshine, Tiny bit of shy/awkward reader, Boss and Secretary Dynamic, Soft! Javier. Mutual Pining.

Word Count: 4.6K

Warnings: I'm labelling this one as 18+ (just in case)! Sexual situationish? Cursing, Super awkward situation, Make out session, References to sex (there's quite a bit), References to Javi being a tiny bit of a slut *said affectionately* (because we all love him for it), Loverboy! Javi, Accidental Handjob (I don't know what to call it)? Reader is kinda awkward, Reader has anxiety, Reader being a little bit self-deprecating? Reader has a bit of a developed backstory for the fic, Javier being a little bit self-deprecating? Javier might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is no use of y/n! I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite! I have never written for Javier before, so please, PLEASE be gentle.

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

Pedro Pascal Characters Masterlist

A/N: Alright Alex, happy 5k! This one rolled out of me due to the very, VERY inspirational gif that you sent me (still can't look at it for too long without stroking out 🤣). I'll have to return the favor someday 😈 But to everyone else, this one is really just something silly that was living rent free in my head so enjoy!

There is something magical about rain.

The gentle patter against a rooftop like a soothing melody, the racing droplets down a window that you can trace with your fingertips, the distant rumble of thunder over the mountains shaking through the lush green forests, the heady smell of rain that comes moments before a downpour, the flash of lightning that captures the world in shades of black and white- it makes the rest of the world melt away, isolates you to one single place to bask in the enchanting sounds and beauty of it all.

Anything can happen in a thunderstorm.

Of course there are some things that are not magical about rain.

The feeling of the cold droplets slipping below your collar and trickling down your spine, the squish of your soaked socks and shoes when you step into a puddle that was a little deeper than you thought it was, the flash of lightning above your head that is a little too close for comfort followed the deep crack of thunder…

Or when you’re fighting for your life with a stubborn umbrella in a heavy downpour that won’t do the one job it was literally made for and you end up looking like a drowned rat by the time you get to where you were going, and you’re too embarrassed to go in so you just turn to take the walk of shame home, and end up running into your “so sexy it should be a crime” boss.

Not speaking from personal experience or anything…

The raging thunderstorm that pummeled and shook the American Embassy was trying it's best to rival the storm that Noah survived, and was also unfortunately keeping you from your warm bed past midnight on a Tuesday.

An umbrella would have been worthless at this point given that the rain seemed to be coming up from the ground and because your ancient Nova had refused to start this morning and you'd walked to work, you were stuck.

But you didn't mind staying late for one reason:

Javier Peña

The level of crush you had on your boss was shameful, but you hadn't meant for this to happen, honest! He was just, so, so…

Javier sighs where he sits at his desk, leaning back to prop his feet up on the strong metal table top while the muscles of his right arm strain against the sleeve of his orange button up, making your throat constrict.

Sexy.

Which yes, maybe it was a bit of a cliché, a secretary falling in love with her boss that was way out of her league in every single way, but you were.

Sure Javier had a reputation with women. Goodness knows you had heard every single scandalous whisper about his numerous escapades and seen every sultry look from the women who passed by the office hoping to catch a glimpse of your boss hard at work. The same women who told you how lucky you were to work with Javier and how jealous they were of you.

They didn't need to be. You knew for a fact that Javier didn't see you as more than just his secretary.

How you ask? Because of the way he treated you.

You'd seen Javier charming someone back to his apartment- the moves, the smirk, the mischievous glint in his whiskey colored eyes when he knew he had someone on the hook, and the low rumble of his chuckle that made you lose all feeling in your legs. You'd seen the same song and dance at every Christmas, New Years, and whatever other holiday that you were celebrating at the Embassy party.

But around you, Javier was a different man.

Yes he still had the same charm, but he was softer. He genuinely would ask you how your day was going whenever he walked by, listened to you whisper whatever gossip you picked up at the water cooler on the fifth floor or in the break room and laughed with you, suggested places to order lunch from where he knew you would find something too, walked with you to your car when it was late, and whenever he went out with Steve he always brought something back for you, whether it be a nice cup of well-needed coffee or a Cocada from your favorite bakery down the street.

He was a good boss. Anyone would be lucky to work with him.

Plus you'd seen the kind of women he was interested in and you weren't one of them. You weren't confident or outgoing. Sure you'd speak to your boss, Steve, and a few people around the office when you had to, but you were not okay with just striking up a conversation or joining a group mid-sentence because that was like a suicide mission. Plus being as clumsy as you were, you'd probably take a few steps towards the group then eat it on the musty carpets.

And you certainly didn't dress like any of them- well, some of them dressed for their profession and that was okay, but you definitely couldn't imagine wearing anything like that around the office.

Your wardrobe consisted of oversized sweaters, long flowy skirts, and soft dresses that draped rather than squeezed your boobs into submission and didn't prop them up to say "hello." But you wanted to be comfy at work because you were there so many hours during the day and you didn't think that you'd be able to breathe if you wore anything tight when you sat down.

That wasn't to say that you didn't "try" when you were at work, just that your sense of style was more… reserved than the women you saw Javier gravitate towards.

So basically you were trying to not be attracted to your boss, and after three years all your crush had done was triple in size and follow you around like a smelly water buffalo.

Javier sighs again, drawing your gaze up from the stack of notes you were organizing into chronological order for him. His eyes skate over to you, a weary smile twitching at the end of his lips before his attention drops back to the folder perched in his lap.

Everyone else had gone home for the night, and usually by now Javier would have gone too, but he had a meeting with Ambassador Noonan in the morning and was trying to prepare.

Maybe he needs some coffee.

You think to yourself as you rise from your cluttered desk making your way to the small break room two rooms down the corridor, not noticing the way Javier's eyes follow you.

He had told you to go home earlier, told you that he had this handled, but you refused. Javier didn’t understand why you wouldn't go, but he was happy you didn't, because it meant that he got to be with you for just a few more hours than normal. Got to hear your soft sigh as your shuffled through papers, got to see the way your face got that cute scrunch when you were concentrating, and got to smell the bright mist of your citrus perfume whenever you walked by. The same perfume that he had to stop himself from trying to gulp down from the air like a man dying of thirst in the dessert, because the way you smelled was like a drug to him. It made him feel like an addict of the worst kind.

And then also made him feel like the scummiest guy on the planet because he was your boss and shouldn't be having any of those thoughts about you, but he couldn't help it. Not when since the first day he met you, Javier felt his dead heart start to beat again. Not when being in the same room with you was like standing too close to the sun, blinded and filled with so much heat he thought it would all come pouring out of him like molten lava.

Javier Peña had it bad. Steve often teased him about it and Javi shrugged him off, but Javier knew in his heart that there wasn't much he could do to change it.

Because he wanted more, but he knew that he shouldn't.

You busy yourself with the steps of making coffee. Measuring out the grounds, filling the pot with water, etc. And when you have two mugs filled to the brim with the elixir of life, you turn to go back to the office.

Unfortunately what you didn't know is that Javier came to see what you were doing, and at the exact moment you turn around with much more enthusiasm than someone should have at 12:39 on a Tuesday night/Wednesday morning, Javier enters the room.

You crash into him, pouring the entire contents of both mugs onto the front of his shirt and down his pants.

Javier makes a sound like a wounded animal.

Coming from someone who had been shot in the past, you now knew that taking scalding hot coffee seemed to be the same level of pain as a bullet wound.

"Shit!" You scream, placing the empty mugs on the counter before turning back to note the prominent stain all over Javier's lower stomach and the front of his blue jeans.

Before Javier can reach for the paper towels to clean himself, your hand comes down hard on the center of his chest, stress fueled anxiety giving you almost superhuman strength as you shove him backwards into one of the plastic chairs that sit idle around the pathetic table.

A startled yelp comes through Javier's lips as he stumbles back in surprise, landing unceremoniously in a chair, stunned. You don’t give him time to process the events that happened in the last three seconds, before you're dropping to your knees in front of him, paper towel roll in hand, scrubbing furiously at his lap.

"Oh fuck, Mr. Peña I am so SO sorry!" You babble, working your hands back and forth on the front of his pants, leaning over him. "I didn’t know that you were coming in here and I wanted to make us some coffee because I know that you've been working so hard tonight and-"

Javier groans low under his breath. "It's okay I-" He tries to push you away, but you continue to dab and wipe at the coffee that has soaked through his jeans.

"It's not okay! You could have second or third degree burns." You stare up at him wide eyed.

One of his hands is fisted on his knee, the other gripping the plastic edge of the table like a lifeline, his jaw clenched tight as you work your hands over him.

"I'm fine-" He says through gritted teeth, brown eyes flashing with something that looks a lot like pain.

Maybe we should go to the hospital!

"No, you're not here-" You prop yourself up, placing your hands on Javier's muscular thighs, your face level with his crotch, and blow.

Javier's body constricts, his knuckles turning white from grabbing the table.

"Is that better?" You look up at him again, eyes wide and hopeful, anxiety and embarrassment flooding the synapses in your brain. You were so worried of Javier being in pain, of him being hurt, that you weren't considering the opposite.

Because Javier Peña is trying not to come in his pants like a damn teenager.

He lets out a strangled sound, but doesn't answer, so you try again, blowing over his crotch and hoping that it soothes the scalded flesh.

“You have to stop-“ Javier says in a breathy whisper, face contorting in something that looks like pain. His dark hair is scrunched and wild, sweat beading along his forehead, and his eyes squeezed shut as if he can’t look at you.

Can you sue someone for spilling coffee on you?

“Don’t worry I think I can get it all off!” You say, beginning to frantically dab at his pants again.

Javier was in hell… but fuck it felt a lot like heaven.

He was trying his best not to focus on what you were doing. His mind flitting from photos of M-19 personnel massacred by Pablo Escobar, photos of plane crash victims, memories of drug busts, to other images of whatever else could take his mind off of what was happening in his lap, but nothing was working.

Not when you were kneeling in front of him, eyes wide with fear and worry for him, wearing one of those handmade oversized sweaters that Javier thought made you look unbelievably cute, soft hands rubbing, dabbing, and squeezing him, your cool breath rushing through his coffee soaked pants, and with you apologizing over and over in that sweet voice of yours.

The same one that Javi tried not to think about in the dead of night when all was quiet and he was alone, when another voice inside his head (that sounded remarkably like Steve) told him not to start something with his secretary-

But Javi couldn't help it.

You were unlike anyone he'd met in his entire life. You were soft, kind, generous, with a smile that always made something deep inside Javi break whenever you looked at him. The same smile that he sought after a day without end, because it was the only thing that made him feel like what he was doing meant something after years of him sinking deeper into the mire.

The moment that you started working for him, Javier found himself excited to come to work and that was something that warranted a whole fleet of flying pigs.

You shouldn't be working here, let alone living here. Whenever you didn't show up to work or were a few minutes late Javier's mind went right to the worst, that something had happened to you. That someone had done something and he was too late, because Colombia chewed up and spat out the kind of person you were.

It was why he couldn't bear the thought of you walking alone to your car after work, and why he seemed to be in the same neighborhood on the weekends when you made your way to the market down the street from your apartment to go grocery shopping. It was also why he was trying his best to keep his distance from you, because someone like you had no business being with someone like him.

"Fuck." Javi half moans, because he can’t keep it in.

You look up at him,  still frantically wiping the front of his pants with a coffee stained paper towel. Javier isn't looking at you, his head is tilted upwards at the ceiling and his eyes are squeezed shut, sweat beading along his hairline, breath coming in shallow gasps.

"Shit, Javi I'm so, so sorry. I know it hurts. I'm going to go get some ice." You try to rise from the ground, but Javier's hand comes down on your shoulder to stop you.

"Please don't." His teeth are gritted together.

"But you're hurt. You could have a burn or-"

"I don't."

"How do you know?"

"Cariño-" Javier chuckles, his eyes blink open, turning a honeyed whiskey in the light. "I stopped thinking about that the second you dropped to your knees and started cleaning me up. It doesn’t hurt. And if you keep doing what you’re doing we’re going to have a bigger problem.”

“What do you mea-“

It still doesn't dawn on you what he's talking about or why he would stop thinking about hot coffee burning him until your gaze lowers again to his lap.

Anything you’re about to say evaporates from the tip of your tongue.

In your eagerness and embarrassment, you'd forgotten exactly what it would have felt like for him when you scrubbed, dabbed, and blew on the front of his pants for the past two minutes.

Oh. My. Damn.

You think to yourself as you see the outline of Javier's large erection straining against the zipper of his coffee stained jeans.

How does he- nope nope not thinking about that right now.

By now your face is so warm with embarrassment you're sure that if someone were to crack an egg it would be fried to perfection in seconds. The heat rivals the eruption of mount Vesuvius, rivals the surface of the sun if someone ran a train full of gasoline into it. There is no coming back from this, no rock big enough to hide under, no cave dark and deep enough to cover your shame.

You lean back on your heels, dropping your face into your hands. "I am so sorry-" The word had lost all meaning given how many times you'd said it within the last five minutes, but given the situation, you had no idea what to say.

To say you were mortified was an understatement. You were so embarrassed that you wanted the faded musty maroon carpet to come up and swallow you whole, so embarrassed that you wanted to go outside, open your mouth, and see if you could drown in the heavy downpour.

I'm never going to be able to show my face here again. I'm going to have to quit my job and change my name. And without a job I'll never have enough money to pay my rent or feed my cat, and if I can't feed my cat he's going to eat my face while I'm sleeping and-

Javier coughs out a laugh, the same one that usually made you feel like you'd swallowed sunshine, but not now. Especially not now not when you could call your own time of death.

You could imagine the gravestone:

Here lies so and so died, when she accidentally gave her boss a handjob.

You could also imagine the ridiculous rumors that would stem from this moment. The things that everyone would say about you the second they found out about this.

You can’t move, can’t even breathe.

The longer you sit there the worse you feel. Embarrassment, shame, and anxiety prickles along your skin, jumping and crackling through every nerve ending, making tears burn in your eyes. You wanted to curl up into a little ball under your desk and rot.

It was the single most embarrassing moment of your life and you knew that there would be no other event that would ever top it.

Javier slides out of his chair to kneel in front of you, whispering your name, but you can't look at him, can't do anything.

The thought of running outside into the thunderstorm crosses your mind, but you’d worn heels today and you didn’t think you’d get far running. And it would have been even more embarrassing if you slipped and busted your nose open on the marble floor in the lobby, because you knew that Javier would insist on driving you to the hospital and you didn’t want to sit through that car ride if your life depended on it.

He says your name again, this time gently pulling your hands from your face.  “Why are you crying?” Worry flickers behind his golden gaze, thumbs brushing over the soft skin of your wrists.

“Because I’m embarrassed. I mean I touched you- touched it- I-“

My great grandchildren will still feel my shame. It will haunt them from beyond my grave. They won’t know a moment of peace!

“If anyone should be embarrassed it’s me.” Javier chuckles.

“I don’t think you still have enough of a sense of shame for that Mr. Peña.” You sniffle out a laugh.

It was true. You knew his reputation, had heard the rumor mill a hundred times over, not to mention you had fielded a number of angry phone calls directed at your boss all of whom you’d told them that Javier wasn’t there, while he stood there and made frantic gestures with his hands.

“Oh back to Mr. Peña I see.” He brushes a strand of hair out of your face. Javier's touch trails sparks against your skin, making your throat tight.

“Huh?" You blink in confusion.

“A minute ago you called me Javi.”

"I did?”

It was hard to think when he was still holding one of your wrists in his warm calloused hands. The same hands worn rough from years of holding a gun, and the ones that had only ever treated you with kindness in the three years that you'd worked for him.

"I don't think I've ever heard you call me anything other than 'Mr. Peña' since you got hired." He raises an eyebrow, signature smirk in place.

"Oh well- that's because I- um. You're my boss and I- I ."

I don’t want to get used to calling you anything else because then I won’t be able to stop.

"I like it when you call me Javi." His fingers trace across your chin, making your cheeks heat.

Any semblance of shame or embarrassment that you felt was quickly fading away with his touch. It was the most that he'd ever touched you, except for the few accidental brushes of your fingertips whenever you handed him things, or whenever he somehow was grocery shopping at the same market and he would gently place his hand on the small of your back to lead you through the crowded stalls.

You never understood why he shopped there too. It was thirty minutes in the opposite direction of where he lived.

This isn't happening. This is just a daydream I'm having and-

“But I don’t like it when you cry.” Javier’s mouth pulls down into a frown. “I promise it’s okay-“

“I’m sorry-” You wipe at your eyes with the back of your free hand.

You couldn't seem to stop saying it. But again you honestly didn't know what else to say. Sorry seemed to cover a multitude of sins. Not to mention the way that Javier was touching you and looking at you right now, and the energy that seemed to pulse and thrum through the air was making your head a little fuzzy.

Before you can say or do anything more, Javier leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead. “You have nothing to be sorry about. You were just trying to help.”

Your hand falls automatically to the front of Javier's orange button up, gasping softly in surprise. He freezes, eyes wide as if he can’t believe that he did it either.

And he can't. Javier didn't meant to, but he can't stand to see you cry. Not when each time you did, it was like the sun was hidden behind the clouds and not when it was like a piece of himself was dying. And he didn't think that you should be embarrassed about this, because you were honestly just trying to help him.

The odd energy pulses again, threading through the air between the two of you, as neither one pulls away. His dark gaze is on you, hesitant, as if he's waiting for something you can't see. Some subtle que or tick that only he knows.

The spicy smell of Javier's aftershave floods into your nose, familiar in the best way, and the feeling of the warmth of his body only inches away makes your brain short circuit.

For the first time in the three years that you'd worked for Javier, you don't feel like his awkward secretary, because the way that he's looking at you… it makes you feel like more.

Javier leans forward just a hair, your hand still resting on his shirt, and brushes his lips against yours, eyes open, gauging your reaction. A sigh works it's way through your parted lips as you sink into the kiss, the hand you have resting on his shirt curling enough to feel the subtle shift of his muscles move and it's exactly what Javier needed.

His lips fall against yours with fervor, hands skating down the fabric of your sweater and finding your hips with ease, before he pulls you into his lap, not breaking the kiss.

It's unlike anything you could have imagined, more than any fantasy you could have made up in your head. The feeling of his supple lips, the tickle of his mustache, the warmth that surges up, up, up in a fluid wave through your body, the taste of the peppermint and stale coffee-

It’s addictive, maddening, hypnotic.

He groans into your mouth, the sound not unlike what he made moments ago, his hands subtly pushing up the edge of your sweater to find the heated skin of your waist fueling the spark that burns through your body. Goosebumps trace along your flesh with a heavy hand, the white hot fire that comes with the feeling of his skin on yours traveling from the base of your throat to the pit of your stomach.

“Javi-“ You breathe his name on a gasp, earning a groan from the man beneath you as he pulls you harder against him, moving his lips down the column of your throat into the shadow of your jaw whispering things in Spanish that you can’t understand. Your hands move up the expanse of his chest and find refuge in his hair, the dark locks falling beneath your fingertips, soft and curled slightly on the ends. Your name comes out of his mouth in a throaty whisper, rumbling up through where your chest is pressed against his.

You'd never heard anyone say it like that before, almost reverent, cherished, like you're his. As if after all this time you've always been his and it's always led to this moment. And it makes something inside break open and flood into the cavity of your chest.

Then all at once he stops, pulling back from you, pupils dilated slightly, looking at you in a daze, his chest rising and falling in rapid gasps.

“We shouldn’t- I shouldn’t.” His voice comes out in a hoarse whisper.

The embarrassment is back tenfold, because now that you’d felt him under you, felt the urgency of his touch against your body, his lips soft against your mouth you don’t know how the hell you’re going to do anything else whenever you see him.

“I'm sorry-“ You mutter before you can stop it, and try to move back off of him, misunderstanding what he means.

Javier kisses you again, holding you firmly on his lap, eyes darker than you'd ever seen them.

“Please stop apologizing.” He murmurs against your lips. “I meant that I don’t want it to happen like this. I at least want to take you out to dinner first. You're-" Javier swallows. "You deserve that."

You blink in surprise. It wasn't that you thought Javier wasn't a gentleman, it was that you weren't expecting him to say something like that. Not when there was no one left in the entire embassy and he didn't have to stop...

But with this pause, reality came roaring back in.

He's my boss. What would other people say?

“Are you sure that’s not a bad idea?” Your fingers gently move through the strands of hair at the back of his head, which makes Javier sigh and lean into your touch.

“It’s the worst idea. Been trying to not ask you out for three years.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Javier chuckles

“It is a bad idea.” You bite the inside of your cheek.

It was. Beyond bad. Practically forbidden. Not to mention you knew for a fact that Javier would probably think you were just too weird and awkward to care about a follow up date and then it would ruin the relationship the two of you had.

But you wanted to say yes. That's an understatement, you wanted to scream yes from the mountaintops and perform a rendition of "The Hills Are Alive" with Julie Andrews.

"Terrible, cariño." Javier smirks a little wider, the grip he has on your waist tightening with a promise that flashes in his dark eyes.

“Maybe not coffee.” You say hesitantly.

"Yeah, that'd probably be safer.” Javier admits. “Though I think if I took you out for a drink there’s always the possibility you could spill your martini and stab me with an olive skewer.”

Your cheeks heat in embarrassment.

"But it's worth the risk." He murmurs leaning his forehead against yours.

"Some things always are." You echo with a soft smile, listening to the rumble of thunder shaking the brick, mortar, and glass of the embassy. The rest of the world melting away and leaving you just with Javi for a few precious moments when all hell rages outside the white washed walls and musty carpets.

Anything can happen in a thunderstorm, you just never imagined something like this.

A/N: Again Alex congratulations on the 5k and giving me such an inspirational gif for your challenge! It was fun for him, and of course to watch some Narcos again 🥰

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are not required, but are always appreciated! The comments really keep me going!

Taglist:

@angrydragon90 @jollyhunter @kmc1989

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@zepskies

Alex, Alex, Alex… My lovely, talented friend- CONGRATULATIONS! You are so deserving of this milestone- with all your wonderful writing, your creativity, and of course your kindness, encouragement, and constant support of other writers. The jackles fandoms wouldn’t be the same without you ❤️ (and really the subsequent Pedro Pascal fandoms- which I’m going to say again how excited I am that you’ve dipped your toe in the Sexy Pedro Pascal Pool)

Your writing never ceases to amaze, excite, inspire, enrich, and destroy me emotionally with the angst (we both know how much I love it 🤣). And your support as both a fellow writer and a friend has meant so much to me. I am so happy to call you my friend and to get to fangirl over men who are way too old to be as sexy as they are (and probably a little old for us) with you 💕

I’m so excited about this writing challenge and I’ll be sending in a request soon! This one is going to be a lot of fun and I can’t wait to see what you create with the mini fics as well as all the other wonderful stories that other writers get to create for it!

And to everyone else- if you haven’t read an @zepskies fic, you simply haven’t lived. So please, do yourself a favor, grab a warm blanket and a nice cup of coffee (or espresso ☕️), and take a few moments for yourself getting lost in Alex’s writing💚 It’s worth it and you won’t be the same when you’re done!

Again-

CONGRATULATIONS!!

I've never actually done this before...

Reaching follower milestones has never really been my main goal here. I hopped over from Ao3 to the Tumblrverse two years ago to share my stories and see if I could connect more with any potential readers. What I didn't know was how amazing SPN (and adjacent Jackles fandoms) would be over here...

How much fun I would have expressing myself, challenging myself to write new things and grow as a writer, and getting to vibe with my readers and other amazing writers.

I now consider some of those special people my friends, and they continue to make my day better every time we interact — whether it's hyping each other up and fangirling in each other's comments and reblog comments, or talking about everything and nothing in our DMs. That support has gotten me through some rough times in the past two years.

So "celebrating" this milestone of over 5,000 followers is really just me saying THANK YOU to everyone who's supported me by reading, commenting, and reblogging my work, helping me brainstorm, giving me inspiration, or just simply being my friend! 💜

⋆˙⟡ WAYS TO PARTICIPATE:

Because you guys know I'm extra af 😂, there are 3 sections to choose from:

⟡ Ask Me Stuff

⟡ Summer Writing Challenge!

⟡ Mini Fic Requests

Ask Me Stuff:

⟡ Let's revisit these EOY Artist/Writer questions. Ask me any of them!

⟡ Ask me anything you want to know about my storyverses: Break Me Down, Unravel Me, Lost On You, Midnight Espresso, Smoke Eater, The Honorable Choice, Every Second Counts, Take Me Home, or any others!

Summer Writing Challenge:

If you're feelin' frisky and wanna join this summer writing challenge of less than 5,000 words before September 1, here's how to play...

💗 Gif Check: I'll send you a gif depending on the character you choose from the list below. Write a story that matches the vibe or completes the "scene." Just shoot me an ask with the character you want to write about, and request a gif!

🎨 Color Prompt: You choose a character from the list below. I'll choose a color palette for you based on what I think your aesthetic is!

🎙️ Songfic: Give me a character + a decade and/or genre of music, and I'll give you a song to match!

**Guidelines:

Submissions with pairings can be Character x Reader, Character x OC, or Character x Character.

(Please no RPF or Wincest.)

Include tags, notes, warnings if necessary - including if it's 18+

Please use the "Keep Reading" break if it's over 500 words.

Max word count 5,000 (for your sanity lol). Minimum 500 words.

Tag @zepskies (me) somewhere in the post.

Include this tag - #Zepskies 5K - within your first 5 tags.

Send me an ask until July 30! Post your fic by September 1.

I will of course read and reblog with my thoughts on your amazing work! If you get a chance, please try to do the same for others who participate. At the end, I will compile a master rec list of each fic submitted. 💜

Mini Fic Requests:

Uno Reverse! 🔄 For these drabbles (1,000 words or less), I will only answer non-anonymous asks so I can verify if you're over 18. Please make sure your age is listed in your bio! 😉

Check out the "characters I currently write for" down below. My inbox will be open for these types of requests from June 27 - July 4 only!

💗 Gif Check: Pick a character from the list and send me a gif! I'll do my best to write you a drabble that matches the vibe.

🎨 Color Prompt: I've been getting a lot of inspo from color aesthetics and moodboards lately. Pick a character from the list and a color. Any color! I'll do my best to write a drabble with that color scheme in mind.

🎙️ Songfic: Most people who know me know that I get a lot of inspo from music. Pick a character from the list and send me a song you think I'd like! I'll do my best to write a drabble that fits the song.

☕️ Characters I currently write for:

(or would like to write for)

⟡ Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester - Supernatural ⟡ Soldier Boy - The Boys ⟡ Mark Meachum - Countdown ⟡ Beau Arlen - Big Sky ⟡ Russell Shaw - Tracker ⟡ Joel Miller - The Last of Us ⟡ Javier Peña - Narcos ⟡ Harry Castillo - The Materialists ⟡ Alec McDowell - Dark Angel ⟡ Jason Teague - Smallville ⟡ Boaz Priestly - 10 Inch Hero ⟡ CJ Braxton - Dawson’s Creek ⟡ Éomer, Aragorn, Haldir, Thranduil - Lord of the Rings/The Hobbit

THANK YOU!! (Part 1)

@luci-in-trenchcoats @lamentationsofalonelypotato @waynes-multiverse @deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373

@wvffles @tofics @kazsrm67 @mostlymarvelgirl

@chevroletdean - Thank you for giving me the idea for the "color" prompts and the guidelines for the writing challenge with your 500 follower celebration!

@winchestergirl2 @lacilou @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @waywardxwords

@twinkleinadiamondsky @my-stories-vault @0ccvltism @wayward-dreamer @waywardlatina

@rizlowwritessortof @k-slla @jackles010378 @alwaystiredandconfused @nancymcl

@this-is-me19 @spnwoman @illicithallways @pieandmonsters @deansbbyx

@deanwinchesterswitch @stoneyggirl2 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @jollyhunter @moodyquesadilla

@deanwinchestersgirl87 @rachiem4-blog @leigh70 @aylacavebear @jessjad

@siampie @spnbabe67 @talltalesandbedtimestories @sam-is-my-safe-word @redhoodieone

@deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused @supernotnatural2005 @kmc1989 @foxyjwls007

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@wvffles

Ahhh!! Thank you so much for including me in this list with so many other talented writers! I'm so happy that you liked the sick fic! I was dying to write one for Ben 💚

comfort fic recs ⋆˚࿔

→ one shot edition

ᯓ a collection of some stories that are comforting to me 💙 (i'm a simple creature of habit, a complete sucker for hurt/comfort if you will) also just so this isn't super duper long i’m going to limit myself, but there are sooo many fics that I love to reread :') // if you're on this list and want to be removed pls lmk !! I mean no harm or inconvenience ˙✦

ᯓ for the most part these are sfw, but some stories might contain or allude to smut, pls heed all individual story warnings and tags ᝰ.ᐟ

⭑.ᐟ supernatural

⋆˚࿔ dean winchester

✎ᝰ. the old fashioned way dean x soulmate!reader ⋆˚࿔ by @zepskies

summary: you and dean are having trouble trying to start a family. what happens when you turn to a spell for a possible solution? 

✎ᝰ. down to the crust dean x reader ⋆˚࿔ by zepskies

summary: you’ve set out on a very specific mission for dean. the problem is, you now have ulterior motives for your (formerly) pure love of baking.

✎ᝰ. lovin' you dean x reader ⋆˚࿔ by @supernotnatural2005

summary: it’s that time of the month and dean is there to save the day.

✎ᝰ. better dean x reader ⋆˚࿔ by @wearywinchester  

summary: when your cold turns more serious and things take a turn, dean is there every step of the way.

✎ᝰ. comfort treats dean x reader ⋆˚࿔ by @impala-dreamer

summary: pain/period comfort drabble

✎ᝰ. next dean x reader ⋆˚࿔ by @dewwinchester

summary: a little cutesy piece basically about reader and dean living a very normal life and leaving hunting

✎ᝰ. spring cleaning dean winchester x plus size!afab!reader ⋆˚࿔ by @studiogrimm810

summary: a tiring day of helping dean clean up the impala has left you exhausted, sensitive, and self-critical. especially after finding something from dean’s bachelor days

✎ᝰ. apple pie and valentine's surprises dean winchester x girlfriend!reader ⋆˚࿔ by @losers-clvb

summary: it's yours and dean's first valentine's day together! the pressure is on you both to make it perfect for each other, but things don't go according to plan.

✎ᝰ. not a lot, just forever dean winchester x pregnant!reader ⋆˚࿔ by @take-it-on-the-run

summary: after throwing up morning after morning, the reader discovers her illness isn't what she initially thought.

✎ᝰ. no sleeping alone dean x reader ⋆˚࿔ by @silksandcravats

summary: headcanon on boyfriend!dean who does not condone sleeping apart from you

✎ᝰ. leather jacket and pumpkin spice latte dean winchester x gn!reader ⋆˚࿔ by @chevroletdean

summary: wearing dean's leather jacket

⋆˚࿔ sam winchester

✎ᝰ. frowny sam winchester x gn!reader ⋆˚࿔ by @tusk-rumours

summary: you're frowny and in pain on your period, and sam's there to make you feel better

✎ᝰ. natural sam winchester x gn!afab!reader ⋆˚࿔ by @samsblades

summary: five times that you and sam are woken in the middle of the night, and one time you get to sleep in.

✎ᝰ. crybaby sam winchester x fem!reader ⋆˚࿔ by @chxrrywines

summary: post argument hurt/comfort

✎ᝰ. the comforts of home sam winchester x f!reader ⋆˚࿔ by zepskies

summary: sam forgets to take care of himself at times. you do your best to remind him, and be there when he needs you to lean on. but sam winchester’s getting a bit too heavy, and you’re starting to feel a little under-appreciated around here.

✎ᝰ. hold me, console me established sam winchester x witch!reader / sam winchester x gn afab!reader ⋆˚࿔ by @saltcxrcle

summary: sam's not answering your texts, so you panic and track him down to a hospital OR where dean finds out that you and sam are dating.

✎ᝰ. busted sam winchester x reader ⋆˚࿔ by impala-dreamer

summary: you stumble home drunk one night with plans for the younger winchester, but your stomach, and his feelings, have other ideas..

✎ᝰ. soft skin sam winchester x plus size!afab!reader ⋆˚࿔ by studiogrimm810

summary: a night of comparing yourself to the beautiful women around you has lead your own self image to be severely tainted and sam just can't have that

✎ᝰ. heat wave sam winchester x fem!reader ⋆˚࿔ by saltcxrcle

summary: heat waves suck in the bunker

✎ᝰ. crimson waves established sam winchester x fem!reader ⋆˚࿔ by saltcxrcle

summary: you're on your period and sam is the best boyfriend ever

✎ᝰ. dead eyes sam winchester x gn!reader ⋆˚࿔ by samsblades

summary: killing a shifter with sam’s appearance scares you to the point of a panic attack.

✎ᝰ. my hero doctor!sam winchester x reader ⋆˚࿔ by @trektraveler

summary: doctor sam wInchester had fallen hard for the woman living just down the hall. she was easily the most adorable and the most accident-prone creature he had ever met! yet for all the times he came to her rescue, he was too shy to make a move. maybe he could work up his courage, if he got just one more chance...

⭑.ᐟ other jackles characters

⋆˚࿔ soldier boy (ben)

✎ᝰ. the best kind of medicine soldier boy x f!reader ⋆˚࿔ by @lamentationsofalonelypotato

summary: when ben hasn't heard from you in a few days, he drops by only to find you in a compromising position.

✎ᝰ. in the dark soldier boy x f!reader ⋆˚࿔ by zepskies

summary: you and ben have tackled the insurmountable together, but no one said the recovery would be easy.

✎ᝰ. sweet and sour soldier boy x female reader ⋆˚࿔ by @wildwestdean

summary: when you get back home after drinking a little too much, a sweeter side of ben slips out to take care of you. though you quickly learn that with him, you can't have any sweet without a little sour

⭑.ᐟ criminal minds

⋆˚࿔ aaron hotchner

✎ᝰ. where it hurts the most aaron hotchner x ex!reader ⋆˚࿔ by @alinathinkstoomuch

summary: getting shot is bad. bleeding out in your boss-slash-ex’s arms? somehow, worse.

✎ᝰ. we'll be okay aaron hotchner x reader ⋆˚࿔ by @ssahotchnerr

summary: after a bad argument and a long night of drinking, aaron gently takes care of you although you drunkly insist you don't need his help, making up along the way.

✎ᝰ. spontaneous phenomena aaron hotchner x reader ⋆˚࿔ by @luveline

summary: hotch touches your face much more than a boss should. or, 5 times you have a nosebleed +1 time hotch does.

⋆˚࿔ spencer reid

✎ᝰ. all I do is try, try, try post prison!spencer x genius!fem!reader ⋆˚࿔ by @pencil-n-pen

summary: all your life, you’ve been second-best. even now that you’ve been chosen to be an agent of the BAU, you’re just a replacement for spencer reid. what could change now that’s he’s out?

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

me after saying this wouldn’t be too long, lol

ᯓ I tried to keep the descriptions as authentic as possible, also if there’s multiple stories from the same author I only tagged once to avoid overtagging(?) but their name is in bold beside the title, all credits to their respective creators !!

ᯓ I for sure want to make more rec lists in the future (spice, series, headcanons, sibling dynamics, other characters i read for, etc etc... the possibilities are endless) but I also don't like to bother people so i'm kinda...testing the waters with this <3 :)

ᯓ happy reading and support writers, always ♡ !!