#TUWOMT

[eff4freddie]

Things You Knew

Javi Gutierrez x Reader Rating: M Words: 8k AN: This is my submission for @burntheedges roll-a-trope challenge and @auteurdelabre trope-off. Apologies for doubling up on challenges but it's been a pretty insane month at work. Anyway. I chose Javi G as I've never written for him before, and my trope was Soulmates. This was really fun to write and I hope you enjoy! Warnings: None

Your ankles crinkled in their sockets when you stretched them, and you didn’t want to think about what it meant, so you didn’t. You rolled your shoulders, feeling the way the tendons strained under the weight of keeping your head up. It wasn’t even that working for Javi was that hard – he was a kind boss, generous with his time and respectful of yours – it was just that his relentless quest had started to take its toll on all your other tasks. Tasks that were mounting up without his attention.

‘Mr Gutierrez…’ you started, your arms full of binders and your iPad balanced precariously on top, ‘you have a meeting with the executive producers this afternoon…’

‘Cancel it, and it is Javi, please. You know this, Cariño.’

He was good looking enough that you didn’t mind the pet name, or that he’d bestowed it upon you the moment he saw you on your first day in the job, seven and a half months ago. Now, though, it grated on you as he strode past you standing patiently at his office door.

‘They’ve said that if you don’t show up this time the deal is off, Mr Gutierrez,’ you tried again, following behind him as he made his way down the hall to the front door. Your heels clacked on the marble in a way that announced your arrival well before you had any intention of making it, and you hated that you were unable to move silently through his house.

‘They can say whatever they want to. They do not understand I’m on a quest,’ he said, talking to you over his shoulder as his longer legs carried him. You sighed, the sorrowful little sound of it stopping him in his tracks. You took a step back as he rounded on you.

‘Como, Cariño?’ he asked, his brows saddled in concern. ‘Do you work too late? Do you carry too many things? Look at all these…’ he tutted at you as he took the binders from your arms, all labelled neatly in your script; the names of his various projects, ledgers, budgets, a contract he still hadn’t read let alone signed. ‘Who makes you carry these, hmm?’ he said, grinning at you slightly as you secured your face in a disapproving glare.

‘My boss,’ you said, but fighting a grin.

‘What a monster he must be,’ Javi said, winking at you. You felt the heat crawling up your cheeks, and hated yourself for it. You had noticed long ago that his voice, when it was just the two of you, was softer, quieter, that he almost whispered to you such that sometimes you found yourself leaning closer into his orbit just to pick up the words. You felt the fizzle up your spine and ignored it, every time, his cologne and his shampoo and just his skin enough to send a riot of butterflies into your throat and suffocate you.

‘Enough of this, it does not matter to me,’ he said, dismissing your months of work.

‘Mr Gutierrez, when you find her, you’ll need…don’t you think you’ll…’ you tried to think of a reason. He didn’t need the money, you knew that. He didn’t need the social status, he had that in spades thanks to his wealth and his association with Nicholas Cage. He had everything a man could want except for the thing that kept him up at night, and when he found it…

‘Don’t you think Nic will want to know what happened to your next movie?’ you tried your Hail Mary, invoking the name of Jesus himself. Javi paused. Your arms now empty you tugged nervously on your sleeve.

‘I will find her,’ he said, determined, and you nodded at him. ‘But when I do, you are right, I will need to juggle all my other responsibilities…Oh, Cariño will you help me, still? You will not leave me to rot?’

‘You won’t rot,’ you said, rolling your eyes at him. ‘You’ll be too happy with her.’

He grinned, his dimples popping out. Sometimes you wondered what it would be like to take them between your teeth, but you resisted, you always resisted.

‘I will be, Cariño, won’t I?’ he said, but he wasn’t asking for an answer, and you could see the way his eyes had drifted away from yours that he was imagining her again, conjuring her in his mind as if he could transport her in front of him just by sheer will.

‘Yes, Prince Charming,’ you said, and he smiled at you, again.

‘If only I had a glass slipper to try on these women,’ he said.

‘You have better,’ you said, nodding to his wrist. Absent minded, he ran his fingers over the mark, the pattern you had seen enough times to know by heart.

He looked at you, sadly, then, his eyes coming back to yours. He knew it was a privilege to have been marked, that not everyone was born with their destiny etched on their wrists.

‘Is this hurting you?’ he asked, and you swallowed, collecting yourself for a moment.

‘You’re not the first I’ve witnessed find their match,’ you said, the words bitter on the back of your throat. ‘I’m happy that you will be happy, Mr Gutierrez. And that you apparently won’t fire me the moment you find her.’

‘I would never,’ he said, jostling the binders in his arms so that he could extend a hand to your shoulder. You felt the warmth seep into your skin through the loose cotton of your shirt. He wore a look of consolation on his face, and somehow that burned more than anything else.

A moment passed between the two of you, Javi’s thumb caressing your skin without his fully realising. You could see again his eyes were unfocussed, could see the spread of goosebumps up his forearm. You pushed him away, taking a step back and out of his grasp.

‘I do hope it’s soon, though,’ you said, plastering a smile on your face. ‘Not sure I can hold off the execs much longer.’

‘Tell them a family emergency came up,’ Javi said, ‘tell them I am sorry, but I must attend to my loved ones.’

‘Mr Gutierrez, we said that last time,’ you reminded him. He dropped your binders, one by one, on the hall table by the door. Through the glass you could see his driver idling his sports car. You held in a sigh. Taking a pen from his front pocket he at least signed the contract, sight unseen.

‘Tell them again…it is not untrue,’ he said. ‘When I find her, she will be family.’

Before you could try and get him to see sense he was gone, the door opened and closed for him as he strode over the threshold. You forced yourself to look away, to turn your shoulder and stare instead at the binders beside you. You could never look when he left you.

--

You had meant to go home, you really had, but you found yourself unaccountably engrossed in Javi’s bookkeeping and before you knew it the sun was setting over the ocean. Your phone rang, the vibrations jolting you out of your work.

‘-lo?’ you said, without checking, and when you heard a scoff you knew it was your roommate, Karla.

‘Girl, what are you doing?’ she asked, and you sighed.

‘I got…stuck with work.’

‘I’ve been texting. This time you didn’t even leave me on read.’

You had put your phone on Do Not Disturb the moment Javi had cleared the driveway. If he found Her, finally, you didn’t want to know about it.

‘Oh, I…needed to concentrate,’ you said. You realised your eyes were stinging and you blinked them a few times. How long had you been bent over your laptop? Too long, judging by the squawk of protest from your shoulders when you moved.

‘You’re breaking your back for this guy again?’ Karla asked. She knew, or at least she suspected with the benefit of very good evidence, that you didn’t work so hard for Javi because you cared about his next big movie production. Balancing the books for a multi-billion-dollar company wasn’t your job, either. But you knew that Javi had been taken advantage of before, by his own family no less, and you just liked to keep an eye on things to make sure he could trust his accountants.

‘I have a business degree, I gotta use it somehow,’ you said, and you heard Karla laugh. ‘What did you want, anyway?’

‘I was calling to see if you wanted to go out tonight, but I’m pretty sure I know the answer.’

‘Mmm,’ you agreed. You felt your stomach protest, remembering that you had forgotten to eat lunch. Javi had a way of making your tummy flip that made it difficult to want to add food to the equation.

‘He’s out again, on the hunt?’ Karla asked, gently, because she could read your mind even through the phone and that was why you loved her.

‘Mmm,’ you said, again, this time trying to sound blasé.

‘And you’re not waiting around for him to come home to see if he’s hit the jackpot?’

‘Mmm-mmm,’ you said, shaking your head for the benefit of absolutely no one.

‘Course not,’ Karla replied. ‘Will you at least go eat something?’

‘How did you…’

‘Could hear your stomach grumbling from here,’ she cut you off, and you grinned. You paused, feeling the smile slide off your face.

‘Do you think he’s ever going to stop looking?’ you asked, and you heard how wistful you sounded, how sad, your voice failing to cover for you.

‘Honestly?’ Karla said, and you held your breath, waiting for her to answer. ‘No, that man is determined and he gets what he wants.'

‘He put the ad in the paper,��� you said, ‘and he went on Late Night and showed his mark on TV.’

‘And how many fakers did that bring out of the woodwork? The cheap tattoos? That one lady who Sharpied hers on and didn’t think he’d try wiping it?’

You scoffed at that. She had lasted all of three minutes, and it was three minutes too long in your opinion. His security teams had received a talking to after that.

‘I don’t like seeing him… like this,’ you said, and you meant distracted and not able to attend important meetings, making you grovel for reschedules. Of course that’s what you meant. ‘He was so disheartened when all that publicity didn’t work.’

‘Kind of makes me grateful I don’t have one, to be honest,’ Karla said. You made your way to Javi’s kitchen, untouched by anyone except for his chef, and scrounged around for something with which to make yourself a sandwich. ‘I think he’ll do all this dating, and he won’t find Her, but he’ll find a girl nice enough, or gorgeous enough, and he’ll make do.’

‘Some stunning influencer.’

‘6 foot tall, waist tiny enough to wrap one hand around,’ Karla agreed.

‘Rich lady hair. Tits up to her chin,’ you added, after a thought.

‘She’ll have a PhD in neuroscience, and something in Law’ Karla giggled, ‘and she’ll volunteer for the UNHCR.’

‘And she won’t know how beautiful she is, she just will be.’

‘She’ll pop out twins and be…wait are we just describing Amal Clooney?’

‘We…we might be,’ you conceded.

‘I met her once, she was lovely.’

‘Of course she fucking was,’ you said, an ache blooming at your temples you were worried would turn into a full-on migraine. Karla was right. That was absolutely the kind of woman Javi would end up with, should end up with, if there was any justice in the universe. You knew this. Of course you knew this.

‘I’m gonna go meet my Not The One But Good Enough,’ Karla decided.

‘Put the sock on the doorknob,’ you reminded her, and she remained on the line long enough to scoff at you before she was gone. She was your best friend.

You turned back to the cupboards, considering your options. The kitchen was well stocked, but it was an ingredient kitchen. You just wanted a box of mac and cheese, not to have to roll the pasta yourself. You sighed.

‘That was dramatic,’ you heard a voice behind you, and you swivelled fast enough to make yourself dizzy.

‘Mr Gutierrez!’ you said, his voice honeyed but his eyes sad in the light from above the stove. ‘You’re back early.’

You watched as he sighed, plonking himself down at the table. Behind him a storm threatened to blow in over the ocean. You felt your stomach sink for him.

‘She was not the One,’ he said, and you nodded.

‘Not even the Not the One But Good Enough?’ you asked, and he shook his head.

You knew Javi. Despite Karla’s predictions, you knew he was uncompromising in getting what he wanted, that he had enough money in the world to engineer any career, any dream for himself but this one thing, this one missing piece, that was nevertheless evading him. He wasn’t the type to settle, even if it would make him reasonably happy. You knew this, too.

‘I do not know how to describe it, just that I knew she was not Her.’

You stayed by the cupboard, not wanting to interrupt his reverie, not sure if you should intrude. It almost seemed as though he forgot you were there, until he snapped his eyes to you. ‘What are you doing hiding in the kitchen?’

‘I didn’t have dinner…’ you said, and he slapped his forehead.

‘I forgot!’ he exclaimed, standing and running out of the room. You followed, because it seemed urgent, and because of course you did. You watched as he ran to the garage, disappearing into the darkness before you heard a car door slam.

‘Sorry, Cariño, I was just so upset about the girl, but it should still be warm. I will heat it for you.’

‘Mr Gutierrez, no, I can…’ you said, not wanting to remind him of the last time he tried to heat up leftovers, including his Great Grandmother’s silver serving spoon.

‘I know, Cariño, no silverware,’ he tutted at you, and you once again found yourself tagging along behind him.

‘Now you know,’ you said under your breath, and you heard him giggle.

So caught up in chasing him down, as per usual, you didn’t even look at what was in his hands until he produced a plate and served it. You had been expecting a half-eaten chocolate cake, maybe some bread and an unwanted appetiser, but what greeted you was an intricate dish, seafood and delicate squares of polenta, a garnish of radish and dill. You looked, as subtly as possible, for any bite marks and found none.

‘The chef recommended it as his favourite,’ he explained, his eyebrows saddling as he watched your reaction. ‘You eat fish, yes?’

You nodded, dumbly. ‘How did you know that I would…’

‘You’re always working late, Cariño. You think I do not notice but I do.’

You felt heat in your chest, your belly flipping again. This time, though, the smell of the food wafting gently over your nostrils was enough to overcome it. You were embarrassed to find your mouth watering.

‘Thank you, Mr Gutierrez,’ you said, warmth in your eyes as you looked at him. He smiled, pleased.

‘She did not like the food at all,’ he said, rolling his eyes as he put the plate down in front of you and went to find forks. ‘She did not like to eat.’

‘Well, she’s crazy,’ you said, too impatient to wait for the cutlery and instead diving in with your hands, picking up a polenta square and popping it into your mouth. An explosion of flavour danced across your tongue and you moaned, your eyes closing of their own volition. When you opened them again you saw Javi gazing at you, pink blooming across his cheeks.

‘It is not cold?’ he asked you, his voice oddly strained.

‘No, it’s good, do you want some?’ you asked, reaching down and holding a square out for him. He came forward, tentative, as you placed the food gently on his tongue. You felt an ember of something lighting between your thighs as he savoured it, groaning slightly.

‘Oh, it is heaven,’ he said, still with his eyes closed. You thought for a deranged moment of slipping from your chair and getting down onto your knees for him, wondering if you could make him make him groan like that with his cock in your mouth. You blinked, swallowing harshly. His eyes opened, gently, to gaze down at you.

‘I regret so much about tonight, and now I must also regret that I did not choose this for my own,’ he said, and you smiled at him. He reached for more and you batted his hand away.

‘Mine,’ you growled at him, and he grinned.

‘My hungry little Cariño,’ he said, and the little ember started to catch flame.

He sat beside you, his hand resting on the back of your chair, as you tucked in. So engrossed in the food you didn’t notice he had lapsed into silence until your plate was almost entirely cleared. When you finally remembered he was in the room you took him in.

He was quiet, his chin resting in his other hand as he considered the darkening sky over the ocean. You could see he was deep in thought, a kind of maudlin contemplativeness he was prone to sink into when things didn’t go his way. You wanted to pull him into your arms and wrap your fingers in his curls, soothe whatever troubled him with your lips on his skin.

‘What else do you regret about tonight?’ you asked, bold for someone who was technically talking to her boss. You pulled him from his reverie, but the room remained heavy with the weight of his sadness.

‘Have I gone about this all wrong?’ he asked. You wanted to reach out and smooth the indent where his brows crashed together, wipe the hopelessness off his face once and for all.

‘I don’t know how else you could have gone about it,’ you said, honestly. ‘You’ve gone about it basically every way there is.’

‘The talk show, that was not such a good idea.’

‘It seemed OK at the time, you just forgot people are generally terrible.’

‘A Sharpie, of all things. And it was black.’

You snorted a little. ‘I mean, no marks for execution but you gotta respect the hustle?’

Javi lapsed back into consternation for a while, and you let him. Being with him set your nerves ablaze but also, paradoxically, calmed you in a way that no-one else did. He was your boss, and he was annoying and this quest of his was ruining your standing with quite a few important contacts, but he was also kind, and he was loving, and you imagined that if you were to rest your head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat it would sound like home.

‘She just feels…I do not know how to say it. She just feels…like she’s right there. But I can not grasp her.’

You wanted to reach out and put your hand on his forearm, rub it with your thumb as you cooed into his ear. You needed to get yourself together. You were tired and he was wearing down your resistance by being so sad and so fucking gorgeous at the same time. You cleared your throat.

‘I should head home, it’s late,’ you said, and he nodded.

‘Cariño…’ he suddenly started, grabbing your arm as you went to move away. You pulled it from him, the heat of his touch even through your sleeves scorching. He sat beneath you as you stood over him at the table, his expression changing from sadness to hope to something else, something not quite settled comfortably on his features. ‘You can come in late, if you like. Since you worked late tonight.’

You couldn’t have said how. Maybe just that the look on his face, his hesitation, just by the way he had paused as he gazed up at you, but you just knew he had been going to say something else, had been thinking something else entirely. You wouldn’t ever be able to articulate it. You just knew this, too.

--

You shouldn’t have been surprised. This was what you wanted, after all. So, you could only smile, a little tightly, when Javi bounded into his office one afternoon, uncharacteristically late, and beamed down at you sitting at your desk.

‘You found her,’ you said, ignoring the stone shifting in your belly.

‘No,’ he said, his face suddenly serious, a look of almost remorse crossing his fucking beautiful features. ‘But she is just as good.’

You nodded at him. Fucking Karla had willed this into existence.

‘So, your quest is over?’ you asked, but he was already bouncing on his heels, looking at you with bright eyes and his dimples so sharp he could poke himself. You recalibrated. ‘Tell me the story,’ you said.

‘Oh, Cariño it was like nothing I had expected but somehow it was better.’ He was looking over your head, as if watching the movie of this perfect moment playing back behind his eyes.

‘We do not have the same marks. Hers is different, it is close but a little off on the left side? Anyway, I was at the bar talking to Marco, you remember Marco he financed my last project? So, I was talking to Marco about locations for filming in the Spring, and suddenly there is a tap on my shoulder and a woman…a vision of a woman…tells me if we need a vineyard she has one on the south coast!’

‘She…has a vineyard,’ you repeated, an image of Amal Clooney in a sundress holding a bottle of wine while giving you the finger appearing in your mind.

‘Well, it is her fathers, but I can not exactly complain about that,’ Javi said.

Ah. There it is.

‘And where did she get her law degree?’ you asked, not able to stamp out all the bitterness in your tone before the words escaped your mouth.

‘Eh?’ he asked, and you waved him away.

‘No, nothing, it’s…that’s great. When do I get to meet her?’

‘Cariño, you want to meet her?’ he asked, and he seemed genuinely surprised this, and because of that it was difficult for you to quantify the hurt it caused.

You’d forgotten, you supposed. All the late-night chats, the bringing you dinner, the times you had stood beside him while he worked his way through half of Europe trying to find his one, then most of Hollywood to boot, you thought that there had been a friendship there, something more than a boss and an overworked, underpaid employee. Of course there wasn’t. He was a billionaire and looked like a model and talked with passion about almost everything he encountered. You were…you. You knew this.

‘Well, I need to vet her, Mr Gutierrez,’ you recovered, quickly. ‘Have you done the necessary background checks?’

‘Oh, I do not need those, this is love,’ he said, and you tasted sour over the back of your throat. Your mouth was turning down all on its own, the muscles of your jaw twanging under the strain. You were horrified to realise you were going to cry in front of him if you didn’t get out of there.

‘Mr Gutierrez, I strongly urge you to do the background checks,’ you said, your voice reedy, but he wasn’t listening. You wondered if he ever would again.  

‘We are to holiday in St Tropez,’ he announced. ‘I have just decided. Will you organise the helicopter?’

This time, you didn’t follow him as he strode out the door. You worried, instead, that you had condemned him, and by extension yourself, to a life of disappointment. It had to be this way, you were sure of it, and maybe you were worrying over nothing. Maybe this vineyard-inheriting goddess could make him happy, in the end.

Almost unconsciously you lifted your sleeve, your fingers tracing idly over your mark. You knew Javi’s so well. It mirrored your own.

--

‘He’s going to fucking marry her,’ you predicted, genuine misery in your chest nearly as heavy as the four pints of ice-cream you’d put in your belly. The Ben and Jerry’s had been Karla’s idea, and only now were you slightly regretting it.

‘Oh, fuck her, and fuck him too,’ Karla said, waving melting Triple Caramel Chunk in the air. ‘She’s probably got a stick so far up her arse she can’t bend over without getting a splinter.’

You snickered at this, the cruelty of it appealing to your whispering dark corners.

‘Daddy’s got a vineyarrrrrd,’ you intoned, affecting a truly awful sort-of-British accent.

‘DADDY! GET ME MORE VIIIIIIINES!’ Karla yelled, and now you were laughing so hard you were in real danger of asphyxiation.

‘DADDY! I’M TIRED OF THIS MANSION BUY ME ANOTHER ONE!’ you joined in, through hiccups of laughter and an errant burp.

You both paused for a moment, catching your breath. In the quiet the sadness seeped back in.

‘I still don’t understand why you don’t show him,’ Karla said, after a while. You sighed.

‘It’s not meant to be,’ you repeated for the hundredth time.

‘How can it not meant to be? You’re marked.’

‘Because he’s just…his life is completely different. I don’t fit into it, in any capacity.’

‘You do in one capacity,’ Karla said, nodding her head to your wrist.

‘He would be disappointed,’ you said, eventually, and Karla sighed.

‘You said when you saw him it was like lightning bolts?’ she asked, and you nodded. ‘You don’t think he felt that, too?’

‘I know he didn’t, because he didn’t react at all. It was like he didn’t see me. He just…employed me.’

‘But that doesn’t mean…’

‘Karla, I love you, but you need to listen to me on this one. There were no turtle doves, no petals falling from the sky. He saw me and he shook my hand, and he said, “welcome to my staff, it is lovely to have you” and then he was gone. The whole soulmates thing, they don’t mention that crushing, ridiculous privilege will override it. He didn’t feel anything for me because there was too much money and status in the way.’

You were dangerously close to tears again, the helplessness and the grief washing back over your bones. To your relief Karla just nodded at you, extending a cold hand to rest on your knee. You immediately shucked her off. ‘Ice-cream hands,’ you muttered, and she smiled.

‘I just…I just feel like, shouldn’t he have the choice? To decide for himself?’ she asked, and you shrugged.

‘It’s better this way. He’s found Little Miss Vineyard. He says it’s…he thinks it’s good enough, clearly. That’s good for him.’

‘What about you, bub?’ Karla asked, and you were going to protest, going to tell her that it didn’t matter, that you were happy he was happy, that maybe the one act of love you could do for your soulmate was to just stay out of his way, but for some reason that night the words died on your tongue. You swallowed down their corpses, feeling them curdle alongside ice-cream in your belly.

‘I’ll be OK,’ you said, and you knew the more times you said it, the more likely you would, one day, believe.

--

Javi and Vineyard were gone for the next ten days, which was enough time for you to harden your heart again and get back down to business. You decided, in the spirit of change and new beginnings, to finally bust out the black Amex card Javi insisted you keep in your drawer ‘for emergencies’ and renovated his office, deciding the mid-century brothel vibe didn’t suit a seaside setting. You were going to do modern coastal, you decided, using company time to browse furniture websites and considering the merit of rattan in a professional setting. You were going to do coastal, and you were going to do a fresh start and you were going to do healing. One decorative seashell at a time.

What you didn’t anticipate, though, so insistent on a new office kit out and by extension a new personality, was that everything would arrive flat-packed. The groundsmen faked bad backs, and the security team were pretty adamant their jobs didn’t extend to Allen keys, and so you found yourself down on your knees, sweat sticking your hair to your forehead, trying to beg the lug nut to sit flush on the dowel, whatever the fuck that was. It was this moment, of course, because the Universe was clearly punishing you for an egregious wrong doing in a past life that Javi, of fucking course, wafted back in.

‘Cariño?’ he said, uncertainly, to the lower half of your body.

‘Mmph,’ you responded, a screw held tight between your lips. ‘-ust a sc-nd Mr Git-er-ez,’ you muttered.

‘What are you doing? Where are my things?’ he asked, and you felt your shoulders drop. You took the screw from your mouth, deciding that four equal table legs that all touched the ground was so last year, and got up on your knees.

‘I wanted to surprise you,’ you said, and you looked around at the detritus of your efforts; the bubble wrap, the ripped-open boxes, the two successfully constructed armchairs that took you the better part of the morning to assemble. ‘I thought, a fresh new look for your new love,’ you lied, and watched as his eyebrows shot up.

‘This was all my father’s,’ he said, gesturing to where the old furniture was stacked up against the back wall. You swallowed. You probably should have known that.

‘I…’ you started to apologise, but he cut you off.

‘It was never my style. But I never knew what my style was until…this…’ he said. ‘This is perfect, Cariño. How did you know?’

Your mark tingled and you pulled your sleeve down tight over your wrist.

‘I thought about what I would like and did the opposite,’ you lied again, and he laughed, clapping his hands in delight.

‘My brilliant Cariño,’ he said, and it would have been kinder if he’d just shot you on the spot. You felt the burn and ache in your chest. You wondered what cute little pet names he called Vineyard. But he was coming towards you, getting down on his knees in a way that made your breath catch in your throat.

‘I will assist,’ he announced, in that way he had where there was just no arguing with him.

‘Why do I feel like you have never, in your life, put together flat-pack furniture?’ you asked, and he grinned at you.

‘You know me so well,’ he said, and you really fucking did.

It took an hour and a half, but by the end of your toiling you and Javi had the legs on the desk, all four and all the same length. It turned out if the dowel didn’t sit properly you could just whack it really hard with a paperweight. The things you learned working for Javi.

You stood together, appraising the upturned desk.

‘So, I guess we just each get on the other end and…flip it?’ you suggested.

‘It looks heavy,’ he said, his brows furrowed in concentration.

‘It is, I got the really expensive one,’ you said, and smiled at him when he looked at you, questioningly.

‘You spoiled me?’ he said, and you scoffed.

‘One way to think of it,’ you said, not wanting to tell him you’d paid with glee thinking somehow this might put a little dent in his amour somewhere, knowing that of course it wouldn’t, but feeling the vindication anyway.

‘Ok, Cariño, you get on that end and then I think we…put it on its side?’ he asked, and you nodded at him.

‘Yeah, roll it that way,’ you said, gesturing to your left as you leant down.

‘That way?’ Javi asked, gesturing with his head to his left, not yours, but you weren’t watching him.

‘Mmmhmm,’ you hummed, bracing yourself to lift. Was it lift with your knees to protect your back? Squat? That seemed like it would strain more…

‘1…2…3…’ you counted, hefting the desk to the left while Javi hoisted to the right. It immediately corkscrewed, rolling out of your hand and twisting your wrist as it thudded to the ground. You screamed in surprise and then blooming pain, holding your wrist in your hand as if you could repair it with just your grip.

‘Cariño!’ Javi called, vaulting over the desk and at your side in an instant, reaching out to grasp your wrist. He moved so quickly, so agile over to you that you didn’t have time to react. He pulled up your sleeve to get a better look, turning your wrist towards him to inspect it.

‘Wait, wait…’ you said, as your mark gently rotated into his view.

He froze. You closed your eyes for a moment, terrified to look at him, before you heard his sharp intake of breath. You opened your eyes again to see him examining it, lifting your wrist closer to him to properly inspect it.

‘Cariño…’ he whispered, and you swallowed acid over your raw throat.

‘I can explain,’ you said, but you couldn’t really. He finally lifted his eyes to yours, as if remembering for the first time the mark was attached to a person, and you watched as the confusion on his face crumbled away to a sorrow deep enough you thought he might stop your heart.

‘You knew,’ he said, his voice soft and dripping in betrayal. ‘All this time, you stood and watched…and you never said a thing.’

‘Mr Gutierrez…’ you whispered, not knowing where to even start. He was right, of course he was right, but you had never intended to tell him, had never allowed yourself to imagine the conversation unfolding around you in this moment. The hurt bloomed on his face, and you felt tears start to well at your waterline. You blinked them back.

‘The whole time. You knew,’ he said.

You did, you had known. So many things you had known.

‘I…’ you started, but he was moving, standing up and backing away from you, out towards the door. You looked away as he left you, like you always did. You knew now it would be the last time.

--

This was beyond even Ben and Jerry’s. Karla mostly left you to it, the unique weight of the pain at having hurt your soulmate indescribable. You had read that it was possible, when you finally made the connection, that you could feel their feelings as richly and as closely as your own. The combined weight of your sadness crushed you, pulverised you, such that you could barely think straight. Karla brought you easy food; toast and bananas and chicken soup, and you ate it all without tasting, only feeding your meat suit purely for maintenance, and didn’t allow yourself to remember the taste of the fish Javi brought back to you; his soulmate and his traitor.

You resigned, immediately. In writing, in an email that was never replied to. Each day you scrolled Instagram for news of the inevitable engagement to Vineyard. You held your phone in one hand while you rubbed at your aching mark with the other.

You knew, there were stories, of divorcing soulmates. It was rare but sometimes circumstances overcame even destiny, even biology. Sometimes people died, leaving their soulmates behind. You spent time on message boards reading the stories of people who had lost their connections, of people who had woken up one day and felt the mark cold to the touch, had known in their hearts then and there that their mate was gone. Some had felt it before they had found their matches. They struggled the most; the what ifs, the could-have-beens.

You considered that maybe it was a blessing that you at least knew it was Javi. It would stop you looking for the rest of your life, stop you having to check the wrist of every man you met, second guess any minimal attraction you might have felt to another.

Karla sat on the end of the couch as you stared out the window, the TV on but unwatched in front of you.

‘You love him,’ she said, simply, and you nodded. Heartsick, you didn’t have the words.

‘From the first moment,’ you agreed.

‘No, but it’s deepened, the more time you’ve spent with him,’ she observed. You nodded again before lifting your knees to your chest and resting your cheek there. If you closed your eyes and really tried you could conjure the memory of his cologne, could imagine you rested your head on his chest.

--

A couple of weeks passed. You couldn’t be sure how many. You got off the couch, the thrumming hurt of your heart and your mark lessening somewhat as the days went on. You checked it every morning for its warmth, relieved not to find it cold, and you wondered if your lessening sadness was really just that Javi was moving on with Vineyard. That now you were starting to lose his connection you could be left to your own miserable devices. You considered that this was inevitable, that the ending you had been expecting probably ran pretty close to this. You hated that you had hurt him, though. You had only ever intended to fade into the background before he noticed you were gone.

You applied for another job, this one far less glamorous but less likely to utterly gut you. On the mainland, doing some general bookkeeping and executive assistance for a CEO of a small manufacturing firm. It would be simple work, and you were a shoo-in, subject to a satisfactory referee check. You hovered over the form naming Javi as your previous employer.  In the end you named his business manager, leaving the details for him to fill in.

Your reference check came back within the hour. Glowing. You were offered the job.

Your first week was good, then your first fortnight. You received your first pay-check with gratitude, even though it was almost half what Javi had been paying you. You felt good to be productive again, to be able to put some of your skills to good use. You didn’t have to trail behind your boss as he blew off any and all obligations for some flight of fancy. You spent considerably less time discussing Face/Off.

It was fine, you were fine. It was going to be fine. You were aware, distantly, that you were probably heaving in denial and numbness, and it suited you, so you let it.

Except when you woke on what you thought would be a normal Thursday, your mark burning so hot you gasped awake, reaching for it to check it hadn’t been seared into your skin. Holding it up to the light it looked the same. Karla checked it and confirmed it seemed to the same temperature as the rest of you. Just your nerves were screaming, perceiving a flame not visible to the eye.

You googled, checking message boards, searched ‘burning marks’. There was nothing, which you weren’t sure was a good or a bad thing, worried for a moment you would pull up results from those who had lost their spouses, the burning mark serving as a premonition of the horrors to come. You slathered burn cream on it, which did nothing, took an anti-inflammatory or two and considered calling in sick. In the end you decided against it, because you weren’t sick sick, you were heartsick, and somehow that just didn’t feel anywhere near as real.

On the ferry over to the mainland you considered lowering your arm into the ocean water, the cool of the water maybe able to provide some relief. You would have to get down on your knees in your work skirt, on the wet and not particularly clean ferry floor. You considered it longer than you cared to admit.

In your office the heat from your mark started travelling up your arm and you started googling ‘infections of the blood and skin’ and ‘septicaemia’. You wondered if it was an allergic reaction, if perhaps you had run your arm through some kind of heinous plant, and you wondered if the office had an epi-pen in the first aid kit. You googled if it was bad to use one if you weren’t actually in anaphylactic shock. The internet was pretty damning of the idea.

You wondered if you needed to go the local emergency care clinic, was just debating asking your boss for the afternoon off, when a shadow darkened the door.

‘Cariño?’ it said, a perfect Javi-shaped silhouette as the sun streamed in from behind.

‘Mr Gutierrez?’ you asked, gasping immediately as your mark pulsed, the heat shooting down your arm and into your chest. Was it a stroke? How were you supposed to know if it was a stroke?

‘My Cariño,’ he said, stepping forward into your little office and somehow crowding all the space. His cologne wafted over to you, and you felt the warmth of it spread over your nostrils and down into your blood. You wavered a little on your feet.

‘I’m so sorry,’ you said, stepping back from him as he advanced, feeling the sudden urge to keep space between you, not to let him to get too close, knowing that if got within arms reach you would pull him into you, wrap his arms around your back and your legs over his hips, never detach yourself from him, sink your lips over his neck and taste his pulse through his skin.

‘Cariño…’ he said, but you interrupted him, the searing heat of your mark now making its way to your racing heart.

‘I thought you would be happier with someone more like you… I thought it was a kindness, that you would feel something for someone that would be enough to make you happy. And I only ever wanted you to be happy, you have to understand that I did it so that you could be happy…’ you trailed off, the words spilling out of you now, distracted by the flames in your chest. ‘Karla said I should tell you, let you choose, and I know now that she was right, I think I always knew she was right, but the idea that you wouldn’t choose me, I wasn’t sure I could survive it, so I didn’t let you. It was selfish and it wasn’t very brave and I know I hurt you, and I never wanted to…’ you felt tears on your cheeks, marvelled at them, at how they could appear unbidden. You weren’t sure you were breathing. You weren’t fully convinced you were alive.

‘Cariño…’ he tried again, taking another step towards you but you held your hand up, your aching mark now uncovered.

‘Please, please…I don’t think I can…’ you started, but you didn’t know how to finish. You didn’t think you could stand it if he’d come here to just finally end things. To tell you he was going to marry Vineyard but wanted a clear conscience first. Wanted to let you down easy, in person. Was your mark burning because he was furious with you? He mostly just seemed nervous.

‘Let me speak, Cariño, oh my god,’ he muttered, his patience rapidly running out. You stopped short. ‘I know. I mean, not at first. At first, I did not understand, but I thought about what you must have been feeling, how you must have thought of me.’

‘No, I…’

‘The silly man who runs around causing you problems.’

‘No…’ you started, but he kept talking, despite you.

‘But then I thought harder, and I felt more.’ He gestured to his mark, the perfect match for yours. ‘I was not angry, Cariño, I could never be angry at you. I was sad, I think, that I had failed you.’

You shook your head, the words failing you.

‘I felt more into the mark…I do not think I am making any sense. But I thought of you, my Cariño, I think I heard you in my head a little bit, and I thought of your beautiful heart, and I knew why you did it.’

‘You did?’

At this he shrugged, honest and raw. ‘Of course I did, you are my One.’

‘Why did I do it?’ you asked him, genuinely still trying to settle it for yourself.

‘Because you love, and this is how you show it. You put others first. You always have.’ You nodded. This was true. ‘I see that about you, Cariño. What do you see about me?’

You answered immediately. ‘I see a man who feels deeply and freely, who is passionate about what he wants… who usually gets it.’

‘Usually?’ he asked. You noticed for the first time that, since he had started talking, he had also been moving towards you. That if you reached out to him, and he reached out to you, skin would meet skin.

‘Always,’ you said, grinning.

He nodded. ‘It is true, I will not lie,’ he said. ‘I get what I want.’

He took another step, and this time you stayed put.

‘You don’t hate me? You’re not mad? All those dates…’ you asked, and he shook his head.

‘I knew,’ he said, devastating you in two words.

‘You did?’ you asked, with the little breath you still had.

‘Some part of me knew, yes,’ he nodded. His brows were crashing together now, his face so earnest, so open, as he inched towards you like he was trying not to spook a bear. Later you would realise the closer he was to you the less your mark burned. You could smell him this close, more than his cologne but the clean, crisp scent that was just his skin, just Javi.

‘All of those women, Cariño. In all of those women I looked for you.’

You didn’t think. Nothing about it was conscious. You just felt the firework explode in your chest and moved to him, letting him pull you into his arms and kiss you, his lips searching and little muffled whimpers matching your own. It wasn’t just a kiss, it was a melding, a coming together. It was something right and essential slotting into place, a line item checked off on the Universe’s ledger. You gasped into his mouth, your knees weak, your pulse heavy at your throat. His skin on yours. He reached up a hand to cup your jaw, pulling you closer into him.

‘Javi…’ you whispered, and he groaned a little.

‘Say it again,’ he said, and you did.

[perotovar]

Mr. Cage, what is your favorite movie? That's one of those questions that's impossible to answer! Because, you see, 100+ years of rich cinema. You can't just limit it to one. All right, let's do top three. You start. Number one: Face/Off. Oh, thank you. Number two, let me think... The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. You love Caligari?? I love Caligari! Wow, I was beginning to think I was the only one! It's hard, it's like you said, "100+ years of rich cinema".

THE UNBEARABLE WEIGHT OF MASSIVE TALENT (2022) dir. Tom Gormican

[userparamore]

PEDRO PASCAL Career Retrospective | SAG-AFTRA Foundation Conversations

+ bonus:

[pedrorascal]

#back on my Javi bullshit (pt. 1) thanks to @prolix-yuy

[anna-sawais]

THE UNBEARABLE WEIGHT OF MASSIVE TALENT 2022 — dir. Tom Gormican

[wardenparker]

The Unbearable Weight of Perfection, ch 1

Javi Gutierrez x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When an accident of fate throws Javi G into the path of his soulmate, his instinct is to dive in head first. Adjusting to life as the fated partner of someone you barely know is going to be harder than either of you suspect, but anything worth having is worth working for. Isn't it?

(This story is heavily inspired by the lovely house museums that I work in every day and the fantastic few months that HBO was using our houses to film a TV show in fall! I spent each day on that set in wonder and I can't wait to share the experience with all of you through this story.)

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 7.6k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this story include: Cursing, alcohol, food, references to abusive family members -- i.e. Lucas.* Fluff, sweetness, flirting, crushes, reader's meddling bestie. Summary: Waking up beside your soulmate the morning after your wedding, you reflect on the meetings that brought you here. Notes: Welcome to a new story, friends! We're using date stamps as we tell this story, as scenes may appear out of chronological order. Enjoy!

Saturday, April 5, 2025

Normally waking up is hard for Javi. Too used to having his own schedule, late nights and lazy mornings. Things have changed over the past few years, the loss of his family fortune and business. Not that he minded no longer being the face of an arms dealer family, even if he wasn’t the one selling the weapons. That was his now incarcerated cousin, Lucas’s doing.

No, now waking up meant an alarm instead of the fragrant smell coffee being brought by a servant, he had to get up and make it himself if he wants.

This morning, this morning his eyes are open before the sun even thinks about peeking over the horizon. The early morning lighting up gradually as he watches your face, so peaceful in sleep. His soulmate. His wife.

Sunrise isn't normally your wakeup call. The mornings are always an early start for you because you like to get as much out of your day as you possibly can. It's been so many years of it now that you even wake up early on the weekends – but not today.

A rare morning of sleeping in means that the bright sun streaming through the windows penetrates your sleep to warm your dreams and drift you closer to reality. Although really, the thing that wakes you is the shifting of the mattress. The last time you shared a bed with anyone before last night was...a year ago? More?

But when you open your eyes, knowing it's your soulmate next to you is so exhilarating.

“Good morning.” Javi’s smile is bright, radiant like the sun as he reaches out and caresses your cheek. “How did you sleep? I think I only slept for two hours but it was the best two hours of my life.”

"Good morning." Like a magnet, you slide towards him on the mattress to tuck yourself into his side. "It's a whole new day. What did you want to do with it?" Neither of you have to work, so it's just...going to be beautiful all on its own.

“I should treat you today, no?” He asks with a grin. “It is technically our honeymoon?” The ring on your finger is just barely ten hours old, the excitement of that fact still humming through his system and coming off as nervous energy.

"We've got a whole weekend to do whatever we want." Honeymoon. It's your honeymoon. The last twenty-four hours have been a complete whirlwind. This time yesterday you were already at work. "I feel silly asking but...what do you like to do for fun?"

“Watching movies.” Javi admits shamelessly, although he no longer has the movie theatre he once did. “What is your favorite movie?”

"Oh gosh, that's such a hard question." Shamelessly happy that you can do so, you lay a kiss on his shoulder and gaze up at him.

Your soulmate is so fucking handsome. How did you get so lucky?

"Maybe..." You laugh at how ridiculously hard it is to choose. "I think I have more like a top three. And they rotate depending on what kind of mood I'm in. But one of the top three is always The Princess Bride."

“That is a good one.” He grins, happy that you seem to light up and have a hard time choosing. “I always liked Wesley.” He admits shamelessly and winks at you. “As you wish.”

"Hush." Even though you nudge him a little, your warm cheeks have nothing to do with the morning sun. It's all mixed in with the dreamy expression on your face as you talk with him. Your husband. Your soulmate. "What's your favourite movie?"

“You must promise not to laugh.” He tells you seriously, although there is humor twinkling in the depths of his dark eyes as he gazes into your hauntingly beautiful ones. “Paddington 2.” He admits, his tone flat and honest.

“Why would I laugh? That’s such a sweet movie!” Daring to reach up to brush a curl out of his eyes, you end up smiling all over again. “I…actually really love watching kids’ movies. They’re great for comfort and cheering me up when I don’t feel too good.”

“They teach us lessons we could all use.” He agrees, capturing your hand and kissing the back of it. “We can watch them together. Snuggled up.”

“That sounds perfect.” Practically everything he suggests sounds perfect, and it’s not just the gorgeous purr of his accent. “It can be a sweet way of unwinding at night.”

“You would not mind?” He asks, brows raised and a hopefully look on his face. “I wish I had my old movie theatre, but we can turn the second bedroom into a viewing room?”

"You..." Confusion makes your eyebrows draw in. "Used to have your own movie theater?"

He tilts his head. “Of course.” He nods. “I will have to build one again. It will not be as big as the one in Spain, but the house will be much smaller too.” He sighs softly, feeling a little bit like a failure for not being able to give you the things he once had. Before he ever knew you carried his marks. “But maybe one day, no?”

"If it will make you happy, then we will absolutely do that." There are plenty of things that you don't know about each other yet, but you have every confidence that you'll be able to settle into things together well. You're soulmates, after all. You're meant to be together. "I just...I've never known anyone who had their own movie theater before. That sounds so fancy."

“It was a large house.” He admits, frowning slightly. He loved the house, hated the bad memories of some of the things that happened there. Although it was never all bad. “You know, Nic Cage came to my birthday party there?” He asks. “It’s how we met.”

"Is it really?" He had told you that they were friends -- hell, the Cages had come to your wedding last night -- but it was still something that you were wrapping your head around.

“Yes.” He chuckles. “I paid him one million dollars to come to my birthday, and somehow, we became friends.”

Your eyes widen, catching on a breath of disbelief. "So that's how you get a movie star to come to your birthday? Color me impressed."

He hums. “Back then, yes.” He admits, leaning in and kissing your shoulder gently. “Now, they are starting to want to come on their own. Not because I pay them.” He doesn’t have the money to do that anymore.

"You're an amazing writer. I'm sure you're just at the start of something really grand." The two movies he has had made so far have both been fantastic. You went home and watched them back-to-back after the first time he told you he was a screenwriter. "I consider myself very lucky that I'll get to be beside you during all of it."

“Really?” His eyes widen, as if he had never really considered that you would be happy to have him as your soulmate. “You want to be beside me?”

It almost makes you laugh, but the wonder on his face is so genuinely sweet that it sort of comes out as a sound of disbelief. "Of course," you promise him, and take his hand to hold both his and your left hands in his view. The hands bearing your brand new wedding rings. "That's what this means."

“Married.” The word is whispered, almost reverently, as if he is still in disbelief that it was ever possible. For him, it had started to look that way. He had loved Gabriella and had been determined to be a good partner no matter if they had not shared marks, but she had left him. He had floundered slightly, bemoaning love and at the encouragement of Nic to start working on his next screen play, he had stumbled upon the soulmate he had always yearned for.

******

Tuesday, February 14, 2023 Valentine's Day

The slowest pay of the week for the museum seems punctuated with particularly melancholy moments today. There was a private tour this morning with a proposal, and the squealing bride-and-groom-to-be had been allowed to take photos together on the grand staircase before regular visitors began arriving for the day. Their family and friends had been hiding in the house, waiting for the moment, all ready to burst out and shout with joy after the question was asked and answered. It had left you with a migraine.

Another lover had popped their question to her beloved out in the gardens while you were trying to get some fresh air on your short morning break. You'd fled back to the breakroom and hung your head in your hands for the rest of your fifteen minutes of quiet.

Now, in the middle of the afternoon, there are so many couples on dates strolling through the halls of Hazelwood House that it felt like an intentional taunt. Being fresh off a breakup at Valentine's Day is no one's idea of a good time. So you just pace your area, walking through the three rooms of the house museum that are under your care for this hour, and hope that the floor just opens up to swallow you whole.

Which is how you accidentally walked straight into a guest.

"Oh! Excuse me! I'm so sorry, that was entirely my fault."

Javi Gutierrez manages to keep himself from stumbling but immediately reaches out to steady you. “No, no, I was wandering around.” He shakes his head, ready to take the blame himself as his eyes meet yours and he swears that his heart skips a beat. He straightens slightly, still holding your arms. “Are you okay?” He asks softly, as if you had been injured by the minor collision.

"I'm totally fine." Shaken, sure, but only because of your own clumsiness and the fact that you just had to bump into the hottest guy you've ever seen in your entire life. "I—I'm sorry." Come on, get it together. "I was distracted." Lie, for fuck's sake. "I just noticed a little detail in the flooring that I had never seen before."

“The floor?” Javi frowns as he looks down at the intricate tiles beneath both of your feet. “What about the floor?” He asks curiously, wondering if it is something special.

"Well..." It's nerdy. It's so nerdy. But there actually is something special about the mosaic tile in this particular room of the house. "The billiard room is covered in mosaic, but I've never paid much attention to the grain of the marble before." An utter lie, you stare at it every day. "Do you see the swirls of blue and gray here? It's the same marble as the fireplace."

Instead of looking at you like you are crazy, Javi squats down and brushes his fingers over the glazed tiles, staring at the colorful patterns for a long moment, memorizing them. Then he lifts his head to stare at the fireplace. “So they tiled the mosaic with marble instead of regular tiles?” He asks, trying to follow.

"It looks like it." He gets excited easily, this incredibly handsome man, and it relaxes you a little. Guests who get excited about little details are one of the things you love most about working in a museum. "Now I'm thinking about taking a photo of the different colors and comparing them to the other fireplaces in the house."

“Can you backtrack through the house?” He looks around worried for a moment and then back at you. “The guides won’t get mad?”

"You're only a few rooms in, I can walk you back to the first fireplace if you'd like?" That would be the breakfast room, which is an easy stroll backward from where you are now and you point it out to him on the map that is printed on the packet of information in his hand. It seems he opted not to download the audio tour as so many do.

He tilts his head, contemplating it seriously. “Then we should do it, no?” He asks. “See if it matches? It should, or no? Maybe it depends on the style of the room?”

"Let's find out, if you're curious. We can check the three fireplaces in this section of the house and you can compare the pictures you take here to the others as you keep moving through the house." You would walk with him, guide him yourself, because it's just so nice to stumble upon someone nice and not on a date today...but abandoning your area of the house would get you in a hell of a lot of trouble.

“Okay.” He smiles at you and wonders if you are waiting for your partner to arrive. It’s Valentine’s Day after all and he had thought to distract himself with work. “The house is very, um, nice.” He says as you start to steer him back towards the other rooms. Small talk can be awkward and he’s not as good as it as he would like at times. Nervous about making a negative impression.

"The whole place is gorgeous." The grounds are a popular tourist attraction, with plenty of weddings and other parties happening on the grounds in addition to the mansion being a museum. "Have you ever visited Hazelwood Park before?"

“This is my first time.” Javi confesses. “I have heard of it, but woke up this morning and decided today was the day.” He had honestly figured there wouldn’t be a lot of couples here. He had been wrong.

"Well, welcome." Back in the breakfast room, you turn to face the soft green marble fireplace. "This does look like the same green of the turtle in the mosaic," you admit. The shades are remarkably similar.

“So they matched the edging of this floor to the fireplace.” The entire floor isn’t a mosaic, but the banding around the edges is. “This fireplace is larger.” He tilts his head. “Perhaps they did not have enough of the leftovers to use, hm?”

"If they only used the pieces that were considered scrap during the carving of the fireplaces, then it would make sense that they wouldn’t have any large pieces." The thin tile line around the otherwise parquet flooring has always charmed you unexpectedly. You had never seen anything like it before.

“It is a good way to use up all the materials.” He agrees. “Because I’m assuming the marble was imported?” It’s nothing he’s ever considered before but your enthusiasm for the details excites him.

"Oh yes, absolutely." In fact, you had had to memorize where all of it came from as part of your knowledge test to be a full-fledged docent. "This particular stone comes from Italy."

“You know a lot about this.” He smiles. “Is the house a favorite place to visit for you?”

"Oh!" You break out into a nervous laugh and realize that this entire time, the nametag and lapel pin that you wear on your cardigan marking you as an employee haven't been visible. "No, I--I work here. I've been here about a year now."

“Oh…oh I am sorry.” He bites his lip as he tries to hide the embarrassed grin. “I didn’t realize. I thought you were just an enthusiast.”

"Being an enthusiast is sort of how I got the job," you admit. Shrugging your shoulders, you straighten out your cardigan again and do up one button to make sure both pins stay visible. "It turns out that I really love it. Beyond just thinking the place is beautiful."

“That explains your comment about this section of the house.” He chuckles, wiping his hands on his pants and shoving them in his pockets. “I had assumed you were waiting on someone. Now I know that’s it’s other tour groups.

"Have to stay in my section." A light, awkward laugh travels between you but even that little sound from him sounds angelic. "But if you like these first few rooms, then you'll love the rest of the house."

“Which is your favorite room?” He asks, looking down at his map.

"Today?" You laugh a little, emboldened by the way he seems to smile with his whole face. Like he really doesn't mind talking to you. Like he might even enjoy it. "I love them all, but I think the library might be the best part of the whole house."

“Do you like to read?” He asks, charmed by your laugh and the way you seem to light up at the question. As if you aren’t normally asked a personal question. “The library was always where I was chided, but then it was also where I could escape into different worlds when I couldn’t do other things.”

"That's the beauty of books." Something you believe unabashedly. Stories are an escape -- whether that is books or movies or plays, or whatever else. "Being able to run away into a different world is powerful. It's freeing." Warmth creeps up your neck and into your cheeks and you nearly feel embarrassed for getting so excited about it except that he's still smiling. "The library in this house? I would curl up in front of that fireplace with a stack of books beside me on the chaise lounge and one of those little table all covered in the blue China from the butler's pantry and a whole plate of scones. I would just stay there all day and night."

“That sounds perfect.” He hums. “With the fire built up?”

“Oh, of course.” The scenario has played out in your head a thousand times, and one day you might just have to go antiquing for your own chaise so you can fulfill it. Of course…you’ll also need a home legitimate enough to have a fireplace. Not your shitty little studio apartment.

“Storm beating against the windows?” It would be a miracle in California, but he could imagine it in the setting of his latest screenplay. “Or snow?”

"Oh, it's been years since I saw a good snowstorm. I used to hate them, but I sort of miss it."

“I have not ever lived somewhere where there was snow.” He admits with a small shrug. “It is beautiful in pictures but I do not think it would be fun to have every day.”

"Oh, it's definitely not." Not even a little, and your immediate answer elicits laughs from both of you. "My favorite was when I was going to college in Boston and the college dug out our sidewalks for us. All the beauty of snow with none of the work."

“That is probably the best way to have the snow.” He admits with a laugh.

"Well..." Realizing you've probably monopolized enough of this extremely handsome, extremely charming man's time, you offer him a smile and try to smother the butterflies accumulating in the pit of your stomach. He has the most beautiful, soulful eyes you've ever seen. "Enjoy the rest of the museum. Take an extra look at the library when you pass through the south wing and you'll see what I mean about it being comfy."

He’s entirely disappointed to realize that he’s being dismissed. Enjoying the way you banter with him, he wishes he could ask you to give him the tour of the entire house so he could continue talking. Feeling more at ease with you than he has with anyone ever. “Thank you.” He hums softly. “I hope you have a wonderful day, full of beauty.”

"You too." You flounder for a few seconds, but you know you'll get in trouble if your supervisor sees you on the surveillance cameras talking to the same guest for too long, so you gently extract yourself to stroll as casually as possible back into the corner of the great hall that is included in your area of the house right now.

Javi watches you walk off and he sighs before he looks down at the map and pulls out his phone to take pictures of the rooms. Your attention to detail will have to be included in the film.

******

Saturday, December 23, 2023

It's the Christmas season the next time you see him, when the house is all done up in twinkling lights and wreaths with trimmed trees in almost every room. Bowls of chestnuts and pine cones and cherries replace the usual decorative hazelnuts and oranges. Pine boughs and poinsettias instead of big, beautiful flower arrangements. It's a nice change of pace, honestly, and on the weekends guests can buy tickets to the after-hours light display on the grounds. Out in the garden there are even refreshments and music plays from the trees that drip with even more lights.

Javier tucks into his light jacket. It’s not completely necessary, but it helps the spirit of the season. The lights are beautiful and he’s heard that the decorations are truly a sight to see.

The music outside just reminds you of the years that you worked in retail -- repetitive and sickly sweet Christmas songs pouring through speakers, but you dole out cups of cocoa and coffee at one of the refreshment tables outside with good enough spirits. There's bits of broken cookie to sneak every now and then, and the little gingerbread men are tasty morsels when you and the other docent working at the table can grab them.

“You were right about the library.” He hadn’t been looking for you. At least that’s what he tells himself, although he lights up for some reason when he recognizes you. “It’s perfect for a cozy day reading.”

"You..." It takes all you've got not to grab your friend's hand beside you, as the specter of the random guest you've had a crush on for almost a year materializes in front of you. "You remembered?" The full sentence is 'You remembered me?' but you don't say that.

He grins bashfully as he steps up to the table and looks down at the cookies and paper cups, trying to keep from staring at how pretty you are. Javi’s been around gorgeous women, but there’s something about the naked honest in your eyes that makes him feel almost feverish. “Of course I did.” He chuckles. “I went back through to find you that day, but you must have already gone home.”

“We move around the house every hour. To keep on our toes and so we don’t stare at the same set of walls the whole day.” Did he get even more attractive since last time? That would be so unfair. Criminally unfair, actually. “I’m so glad you enjoyed it. Enough to come back, even.”

“I had to see it during Christmas.” It also got him out of the tiny cottage he lives in. Around other people. Hopefully to distract from the loneliness of the holiday. “I don’t know if this might not be the best look for this place. Although I see it with candles lit all around.”

“It’s perfect in spring,” you tell him all too quickly, and end up flustering yourself so you have to tear your eyes away from his to look down at the grounds gather your damn wits back. “I mean…in early spring is when all the orange and hazelnut trees blossom. That’s how the property got its name. Hazelwood Park.”

“Is that so? I will have to check it out.” He looks suitably impressed and then motions to the table. “So, um, how much for a cookie and a cup of coffee?” He asks, not sure what else to say, but wanting to continue the conversation.

"Oh, they're free for guests. Help yourself." Your coworker offers helpfully, seeing you fluster and thoroughly enjoying the level of teasing that is going to happen after work tonight. "Why don't you take your break while we have a lull?" She suggests, practically batting her eyelashes with glee over the suggestion.

"Thanks, Moira," you hum with a tone that suggests you're going to kill her later. Then again? She has a point. These days that there are special events at work can be long. You've been on your feet for hours.

Javi is disappointed, sure that you will disappear on him since you have a chance to get off your feet and possibly get something to eat or drink yourself. “Oh, um, okay.” He takes a cup of be coffee and a cookie. “Thanks.”

"Make sure to show him your bench!" Moira suggests, far too loudly and excitedly to not be obvious, as she thrusts a cup of cocoa and a gingerbread man into your hands.

“Your bench?” He could kiss your friend for giving him something to grasp on to in order to keep the conversation going. “What is your bench?”

"It's...it's over on the west side of the property." You gesture to the left of were you're both standing and try to suppress the giddy and awkward shivers running up and down your spine. "Do you...would you want to walk?"

“Are you sure you want to?” He asks seriously, happy about spending time with you but it’s your break. “You don’t want to rest?”

"Benches are made for resting." Now that the chance has presented itself, you would actually be pretty bummed to miss out on the chance to chat with him again. And, in all honesty, you're pretty sure it's not your break at all. Moira just threw you out of the nest like a mama bird.

“Okay.” He agree to that easily and shifts to move the cookie into the same hand as his coffee to offer you his arm. “Lead the way.”

The chivalrous gesture damn near makes your knees buckle, and you follow suit. Shifting your snack into one hand lets you take his arm to lead him toward the ocean. "It's just...where I like to come sit." Of course it is. You groan at yourself internally. What else would you do at a bench but sit? "I take my lunch out here sometimes and things like that."

“So it’s your special place.” He likes the sound of that. Showing him something that you might not show every guest.

"I suppose you could say that." It's only a touch chilly tonight and the breeze coming off the ocean is welcoming. "It's a nice place to sit and think. To just watch the ocean and...dream."

“Hopefully the dreams are nice ones.” He offers, wondering what you might dream about. “Having a quiet place to think is always a good thing. I used to sit out at the cliffs and dream, plot, plan.”

"Cliffs?" Hazelwood Park is more or less on a cliffside, and you motion out toward the ocean again. "Like this one?"

“A little larger than this one.” He smiles as he thinks back to jumping off the cliff with Nic. “Mallorca has cliffs that go hundreds of meters in the air.” He tells you. “Some so steep you would be terrified to slip off the edge.”

“Mallorca?” Spanish. Damn. They really do make hotter men in Europe. “I’ve heard it’s beautiful there. You…traded one beautiful place to live for another?”

He shrugs slightly. “Hard to write movies anywhere else but Hollywood, no?”

“Hard, but not impossible.”

So there it is. Even the screenwriters in Hollywood are sexy. Maybe you should be grateful to live so close by, then? Southern California does have some fun things that back home didn’t. Rather than fawn over him — that’s never been your style — you just smile. “So you like libraries and you’re a writer. Stories run through your veins.”

“I would live in them if I could.” He admits wistfully. The little bench is drawing closer and he can see from the view from this point why you would like it. It’s a stunning place to look out over the water. The wind just a touch brisk as it ruffles his hair. The smell of the saltwater taking over.

“Me too.” And for reasons you can’t quite discern, you just keep talking. “That’s why I like history so much. It’s all just stories. Especially in big houses like this. Somebody’s whole life — their whole story — is wrapped up in that house.”

“And do you sometimes pretend you are the lady of the house?” He asks, imagining you in the skirts from that time.

"It would be sort of a shame to dream about the place and not dream the grand, elegant things. Wouldn't it?" When you reach the bench together, he seems to set you down first, letting you settle, and then sits beside you. "I think it's romantic. Curtis Hollingsworth built the place as a birthday gift for his wife. They were outgrowing their home because they were pregnant again, and he'd made millions helping to turn Santa Barbara into a spa town." The soft smile on your face is whimsical, but you can't help it. "Apparently, she loved oranges and hazelnuts. Which is why the trees are everywhere."

“He brought those to her.” He looks out over the water and takes a sip of the rich coffee. At least they had served a strong brew instead of something heartbreakingly weak. “To build a house for someone you love is a perfect way to show it.” He frowns slightly, remembering that he has a building site that was halted before the foundation was ever poured.

“It’s certainly a grand gesture.” Something in his tone and manner makes you hesitate, but you don’t know this man nearly well enough to ask a single personal question so you try to just press past it. “Of course, grand gestures aren’t the only way of showing love. Not by any means. But they do make wonderful stories.”

“Sometimes it’s just listening.” He agrees, thinking about how things between him and Gabriella had turned after moving to L.A. two years ago. She had been uninterested in the future he envisions and started working towards. Stopped talking to him about anything that wasn’t part of her own interests. He had tried to course correct, but it had ultimately not meant to be.

“I couldn’t agree more.” This time you do chance to look at him — sharp jaw and soft cheeks outlined against the night sky like a fully grown cherub, golden brown curls neatly and artfully tousled and waving in the breeze. He looks like a Romantic painting. “Lots of people talk about communication but not enough realize listening is included in that.”

His eyes find yours again, seeing the softness and understanding swimming in their depths and he feels like bearing his soul to you. “Is it probably the most important part.” He admits. “The world would be better if people understood that.”

“Again…” you swallow hard, feeling your mouth has run dry and chest fairly ripped open with the feeling of familiarity. “I couldn’t agree more.”

The silence falls between you. It’s not unpleasant, it’s almost hesitant. As if both of you are afraid of disturbing the uncluttered beauty of the moment as the waves crash against the coast at the wind batters playfully against your cheeks. Javi breaks off a piece of the cookie and dips it onto the coffee.

“You chose a beautiful night to come visit.” It’s clear and typically warm despite the ocean breeze, and even in the end of December, Southern California is a beautiful place to be. He could have gone to any of a thousand places but he chose to come here, and a small voice in the back of your head wonders — hopes — that maybe you had a part in making this place happy for him.

“I was compelled to come back.” He admits softly, looking over at you for a moment before breaking off the gaze to look out at the sea again.

“The house is like that.” When he looks away, you do too. “It draws people in.”

It’s not the house, but it would sound crazy to say that he wanted to see you again. Instead he hums. “I don’t think it’s just the house.”

“Well…” If you wanted to take that to heart, you feel like you could. It wouldn’t be difficult to give yourself that little bit of hope. But despite being easy, it would probably be very foolish. “I hope it helps you miss home a little less to sit on these cliffs, instead.”

“I think it does.” He takes the bite of the cookie and groans happily. “These are good.”

“Gingerbread is highly underrated,” you agree, and take a bite of your own after dipping it into your cup of cocoa. “I get why they’re seasonal but I wish I could find them so easily all year long.”

“Yes.” He agrees. “They would be good anytime.”

“What’s your favourite kind of cookie?” The question is innocuous enough, but you find yourself curious anyway. Curious to know about anything he feels like telling you.

He chuckles and lifts a shoulder innocently. “A good chocolate chip cookie is always a comfort.” He admits. “Sometimes the simple things are the best.” He twists his head and looks over to you. “What is yours?”

“Have you ever heard of a hermit cookie?” You ask, raising an eyebrow, and grinning in amusement when he looks confused. “It’s a soft, spice cookie. Like gingerbread. Sometimes with raisins and nuts in it. They’re a bit old fashioned, but wonderful with coffee.”

“They sound like I should try some.” He would try anything you recommend right now, a fact that should scare him but it doesn’t. “How old are the cookies?” He asks, thinking about his screenplay.

“They’re from the 1880s or 90s, I think?” It does not escape your amusement or notice that this is the same time that the house you work in was built. “I don’t know if they’ve ever been popular outside of New England, but we do love them there.”

He hums and takes note of that. Deciding he will research it. “Hermit cookies.” He repeats. “Are there recipes for this? Online?”

"Probably." His entire attention has now focused in on this just because you said it was your favorite cookie and that makes you smile in a way you can't quite explain.

“Then I will have to look it up.” He smiles as he takes another sip of his coffee. “I like researching things. It is very interesting. Like your marble mosaic tiles.”

"You researched the tiles?" It's the sort of thing that you would only think of you or your coworkers doing, but hearing that he has enjoyed his time in the house -- and possibly with you -- so much warms your heart.

“It was interesting to learn how they chose the marbles.” He nods. “I never imagined a trip to Europe to pick out building materials.”

"It's a heck of a reason for a vacation," you agree, laughing slightly at the opulence of it all.

“Yes. And trips would take months.” He chuckles.

"I can't even imagine." To take a vacation at all would be a miracle. But one that was months long? It sounds positively absurd to your ear.

“Do you think they ever got bored?” He asks curiously. “Or tired of being away from home?”

"I have to imagine that they did." It's a question you've thought on more than you want to admit, but the stories in your head are always about everyday things. Wondering what the mundane things were like. "If I had a home like this I can't imagine ever wanting to be away from it. But I suppose the right person can make anything worthwhile."

“Were they soulmates?” He asks softly, having avoided the personal backgrounds of the homeowners when taking the tour. He had tried to keep his own characters in mind.

“They were. And when they left the house to their daughter, she married her soulmate here. And then her daughter married her soulmate here, as well. The house has a history of lifelong loves.”

“That is nice.” His tone is wistful. “I don’t know if I will ever meet my soulmate.” Javi confides, normally keeping that information to himself but he blurts it out. “I worry about it sometimes.”

“I don’t know a single person who hasn’t worried about it at some point.” Even your sister, who said she didn’t mind not marrying her soulmate as long as the woman she found was a loving partner, had been thoroughly overjoyed when she had found her now wife on Mate Marks. Everyone thinks about it — worries about it — even if they don’t want to admit it. “I wouldn’t worry, if I were you.” You offer him a smile, knowing you’ve gone over your fifteen minutes for your break and not wanting to be caught flirting with a guest on company time. “Whoever you do find is going to be very lucky to have you.”

He smiles again. “Have you found yours?” He figures you probably have, you are beautiful and captivating.

"Not yet." Even though you'd rather not, you stand from the bench. "I don't know if I ever will. Only time will tell."

“I know you have to go back to work.” Javi leaps off the bench and shuffles, wishing he could ask you to stay. “Thank you for showing me this place.” He bites his lip. “Uh, can I walk you back?”

The warmth rushes back to your cheeks, and you practically squirm with delight. "Thank you. I'd like that."

He offers his arm again, taking your empty hot cocoa cup from you to hold with his own trash. “Imagine the parties they used to hold here.” He breathes out as the two of you turn back towards the house.

"We're setting up an exhibit with some of the gowns. It's meant to open in about six weeks." You light up with that fact, excited to see all the swishing gowns and glimmering jewels for yourself. "Descendents of the family donated a large collection of clothing, shoes, and jewelry to the museum this part year."

“Wow.” He chuckles, thinking about the parties he would throw when he was pretending to be an olive oil exporter. He’s much happier being a screen writer, even if he can’t afford those parties and bought friends anymore. “That was generous of them.”

"They say the most spectacular pieces are still privately owned by the family, but the things I've seen so far have been absolutely gorgeous." If you're a little dreamy-eyed at the prospect, he doesn't seem to mind.

“It sounds like you would have loved to live during that time.” He smiles, knowing that he will have to insist the movie be filmed here.

"I'm probably overly romanticizing it," you admit. But the tent is in view already and you hate the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach that wonders if he'll ever come back again. "I hope—" Biting back what you really hope, you go for a polite encouragement instead, "That the things you've found in your research have given you plenty to think about. And maybe romanticized it for you, too."

“It has.” Even if you have no interest in him, you’ve given him a focal point for his movie. “Thank you. This is a magical place.”

"Then I hope you'll come back again." At least in that you can be honest. There is nothing you would like more than to see him again.

“Really?” He’s surprised by your comment. Unless you are just being polite.

"Really." You promise him, but at the edge of the refreshments tent, you have to let his arm go.

He’s disappointed by the loss of your fingers on his jacket. “Well. I hope the rest of your night is magical.” He offers, bowing slightly and smiling at you.

"I can all but guarantee it now." One more smile. One more lingering, dopey smile, and you know you have to tear yourself away. "Have a good night..." Oh no. Have you really gone and sat and flirted with this man for your whole break and not even learned his name?

He nods and turns away, sure that it would be rude to try to extend the conversation. He will just have to go home and write about this, working it into the plot of his movie somehow.

******

Monday, June 10, 2024

The email went out before opening time, when only your bosses were up in the offices and the docent core hadn’t gotten to work yet. You’d nearly crashed your car in excitement while CarPlay read the email out to you on the highway.

A movie. An actual Hollywood movie is coming to film at the museum!

The second you clocked in and sprinted to the break room to put your things away, you almost clobbered Moira with squealed, giddy glee.

“Did you hear?? Did you see Leslie’s email?!”

“Oh my god, yesssss.” She lights up and nods quickly. “It’s a movie by that guy who did the Nic Cage movie a couple of years ago.” She informs you. “The one that won an Oscar and restarted that man’s career?” After a long slump of bad movies, the older actor had exploded back on the scene, apparently full of new life and motivation for his trade.

“I can’t wait until we find out more!” Being able to hug your friend and squeal together is such a rush. The two of you have become joined-at-the-hip work friends to the point where the friendship has bled into everyday life. “A name, a plot, any of the stars?”

“Actors.” She sighs dreamily. “Imagine if your soulmate or mine, is an actor who comes to film?” She loves the glitz and glam of Hollywood and always secretly imagined being an actress herself, although she’s realistic enough to understand that it would be impossible to have happen.

“Maybe yours will be.” You laugh, hugging her again before you have to break away to pull your radio headset out of your bag. There is still work to do today, desire the excitement. “You’ll have to make sure you always wear your hair up so your tattoo is visible.” The little raven behind her ear would be a hell of a lot easier to show off than the tarot card on her though, anyway. Moira’s tattoos are gorgeous and just unique enough that you would bet there was no duplicate in the works besides her soulmate.

“Oh I’m planning on it.” She licks her lips and waggles her brows suggestively. “What about you? Yours aren’t so visible.” She knows how much you secretly want to meet your soulmate and be with them. It was a drunken girl’s night confession but she had never teased you over it.

“There’s no reason to go around showing everyone my marks.” You shrug a little and busy yourself with plugging into a walkie-talkie and adjusting your headset in your ear. “A lot of people have ankle scars, don’t they? And I can’t exactly show off my butterfly.” Exposing that much skin is definitely against dress code.

“Is it your scar or his?” You had never mentioned that, just that you had a scar.

“It’s theirs.” However your soulmate is, you’ve tried very hard not to make assumptions about them. The person you hope for might not be the person you get, and that wouldn’t be fair to them. “I was nine when it appeared, so my best guess has always been they fell out of a tree or play sports.”

“And the tattoo is yours?” She knows, she’s just chatting because it’s better than actually getting ready to work right now.

“Twenty-first birthday.” You nod, knowing that she knows but that Moira likes a slower start to her day than you usually do. “I did the opposite of most people. I got the tattoo and then went out to get drunk.”

“Which is a very valid and smart thing to do.” She praises. “That way you don’t bleed too much and it’s a nice way to numb the pain after.” Her own walkie comes out to begrudgingly clip to her waist. “But this movie, it has to be a period piece, right? No way a modern millionaire would live in a house like this.”

“It has to be. There’s no point in renting out a historical house museum for four entire months unless you’re going to use it all.” Not that you know too much about the filming process, but it just makes logical sense. “And besides, they’re here in spring and summer, which is usually our busy season. So I’m sure Leslie charged them a fortune. But HBO can afford it, I guess.”

“What if they let us be extras?” Her eyes widen at the sudden thought. “Oh god, we could wear our work!” She giggles happily at the thought.

“I assume there will have to be extras somehow.” Truthfully, you’d let your Hollywood dreams die out a long time ago. Moira’s were much more present. It would be amazing to see her to be able to fulfill them with even just a morsel like being an extra. “I guess we’ll just have to find out, won’t we?”

“When it gets closer you will be just as excited as I am.” She predicts with a knowing grin.

“I’m plenty excited,” you promise, happily hugging her to your side as the two of you head out into the house together. “I just think you belong in front of a camera much more than I do.”

“You’ll change your mind.” She teases. “When you see what gorgeous actors and actresses they bring, you will be begging to flirt with them. On and off camera.”

“Maybe.” Her confidence is catching, and you laugh again at the thought of it. Hollywood has come knocking on your door and it’s already making work a hell of a lot more fun.

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

[milla984]

Pedro Pascal as Javi Gutierrez The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent (2022)

@babymetaldoll your husband!

»»»— read pinned post for taglist info —«««

»— Masterlists links in bio —«

[trashcora]

insp.

[mushgloomz]

full credit to the loml (aka the moodboard QUEEN) @ohhoneypascal

this is officially a javi g stan account i am married to him x

[flightlessangelwings]

FawKtober 2024 Part 1- Javi Gutierrez

Javi Gutierrez x gn!reader

Kinks- Fingering, slow and soft

Word count- 814

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Javi…” you moaned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[fuckyeahpedropascal]

Pedro boys kissing

No commentary needed. Happy Monday y'all! 💋

• Masterlist •

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[pedropascal24-7]

Pedro from the back

[wardenparker]

The Unbearable Weight of Perfection, ch 2

Javi Gutierrez x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When an accident of fate throws Javi G into the path of his soulmate, his instinct is to dive in head first. Adjusting to life as the fated partner of someone you barely know is going to be harder than either of you suspect, but anything worth having is worth working for. Isn't it?

(This story is heavily inspired by the lovely house museums that I work in every day and the fantastic few months that HBO was using our houses to film a TV show in fall! I spent each day on that set in wonder and I can't wait to share the experience with all of you through this story.)

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 14.9k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this story include: Cursing, alcohol, food, references to abusive family members -- i.e. Lucas.* More fluff and sweetness. Adorable and awkward flirting. Workplace romance, technically? Clothing/trying on clothing. Summary: The first day of the movie crew's work is here, and no one is prepared for the whirlwind that this day will bring -- not even you and Javi. Notes: We started off strong with a big ol' error last week guys! Sorry about that. But thank you to those folx who brought it to my attention, you're simply the best readers out there. The start date of ch1 is now fixed and dates are fixed across the board. 🧡 This week enjoy a photo of the music room at The Breakers -- the house that inspired or fictional Hazelwood House.

Friday, April 4, 2025

“Javi, you don’t want to meet with the cast?”

He pauses, looking out of the front window of the little cottage at the wooden stakes marked off in the barren ground. Cleared and ready to be built and now lying abandoned. There didn’t seem to be much need to continue building a house when the woman who he was building it for had left. “They don’t need me at the read through.” He tells his agent, knowing that she had pushed for him to be on set and involved in every aspect of the filming, giving him more creative control. He appreciated it, but he was more excited about where the movie was being filmed than who was in it.

The thing is, Sherry knows him. She knows that there has to be a reason he pushed for the specific shooting location that inspired the script. She knows there's some girl there that he won't talk about – he'd showed up moon eyed to a meeting one day after working on the script and there had been something about it that screamed infatuation. Which is why she has no problem at all pulling the ace out from her proverbial sleeve.

"I would have thought you would want to see the house again." She hums. "Oh well. I'll let them know you're not coming and I'll cancel the car from the studio."

“The meeting is at the house?” He had assumed it was the studio read through. Not at the house. She hums and he starts to panic. “No! No, um, on second thought, I should see who is going to be playing my characters.”

Ever the professional, Sherry keeps her smile polite and betrays no hint of victory, despite the fact that she barely had to fight at all. "The director wanted the cast to be able to look around the house and grounds before the furniture gets swapped out for set pieces." She explains easily.

“Is the staff going to be there?” He asks eagerly. “To answer any questions for the cast? I don’t know a lot about the history, I mean. It would be good, you know, to have them there.” The idea of seeing you again has him already walking into his bathroom to get ready, needing a shower.

"As I understand it, a few of the docents will be there today." So that's what it is. One of the girls from the museum staff. "You have half an hour until the car gets here, Javi," she calls after him, grinning as he immediately hops into high gear.

Javi grins as he starts to rush through his shower. It’s ridiculous how excited he is by the idea of just seeing you again. Especially since he can’t recall ever seeing or hearing your name. He just knows that his entire mood brightens when he thinks about the few times that he’s interacted with you.

She hums again, pleased this time, and sits down in the living room of Javi's little house to wait. She has work she can do on her laptop in the meantime and sends a text off to the production assistant in charge of corralling the creative team for the movie, confirming that Javi will be there. Now she just needs to find out who this girl is.

Towel wrapped around his waist; he hurries into the bedroom closet to pick out an outfit. Wanting to strike the right chord and look good when he arrives.

Sherry only has to hurry him along once, and he's tucked into the studio car right on time and sent off to Santa Barbara. She doesn't have to babysit him there, she knows he'll do his work, but it's good that she stayed long enough to get him in the car. A day of work and whatever girl is in that house will do Javi a world of good.

In the car, Javi fiddles with his phone, triple checking the time and discreetly turning on the camera to check his appearance. He had made sure not to put on too much cologne, but he had completely forgot to check his hair. Even if it is shorter than he had worn it before.

He fidgets all the way to the museum, and the anticipation settles over him like the buzz of electricity threatening to shock him at any moment. The first thing he does when he walks in the front door is look to the front desk, but it isn't who he's looking for. He vaguely recognizes the young woman though, and flounders for a moment to remember her name. It's the girl who had been with you that night just before Christmas. The one who suggested you take your break with him.

“Hi.” He flashes smile at the woman. “I’m—”

“I’m so sorry sir.” Moira hates that the mystery man who managed to make you float on air arrived today of all days. “The house is closed for a private event.” She tilts her head sympathetically and walks around the desk to usher him outside.

“No, I just wished to see—”

“We will we be closed for the next four months.” She has dealt with difficult people all day. Insisting their little tour wouldn’t interrupt anything and she doesn’t want to have to tell you this guy ended up being a jackass.

“No, you don’t understand—”

“Javi!” He spins around when his name is called from deeper inside the house, turning to see the producer of the film, smiling broadly as he rushes forward.

“Scott.” He’s grateful that the other man had shown up when he did, about to be booted out on his ass by the girl.

"Javi?" Moira quickly moves back to the desk to look at the clipboard that she was given by the producer now striding into the foyer. Glancing down and down it, her jaw drops open a little before she lights up with glee. "Javier Gutierrez?" She asks, looking up at the producer.

"Our writer." Scott affirms. "We almost started without you, Jav. C'mon in. We're all in the ballroom."

“Sorry.” He ducks his head in apology and his eyes shift over to Moira. He nods quickly, not wanting her to think he was upset with her before he follows Scott. “The traffic was heavier than the driver anticipated.” He explains as they walk down the hall.

"Not to worry. But it's good you're here. You know how changes go." Scott hustles them along a hallway and through the open pocket doors into a ballroom that would fit an entire Olympic swimming pool. There are tables set up on one end so the cast can all face each other during the read, with extra seats for key members of the production team. On the other end of the ballroom, two production assistants are setting up a makeshift catering table with someone sitting in a chair at the far end.

He doesn’t feel nervous when he sees the famous faces that will be bringing the script to life. He smiles and waves to each one of them, happy that such a talented group has been chosen by the production team and the director. It’s going to be amazing, he can feel it. No, he gets nervous when he sees you sitting in a chair away from the tables, looking just as shocked to see him. Freezing for a second before he gives the most awkward wave of his life and wants to kick himself for being so ridiculous.

OhmygodOhmygodOhmygodOhmygod—

You almost short circuit, sitting there in that chair with your legs crossed and a book in your lap. Your jaw drops open in surprise while the rest of you lights up, returning his sweet, shy wave with a little one of your own.

Somehow you hadn’t even considered the possibility that a writer would be on set for the filming of their movie, although in retrospect of course they would. You’re just so stunned that it’s him that you can barely think.

She’s here. That’s the thought that flutters through his mind until Scott touches his arm and breaks the spell that seems to have possessed him. Pointing him to a chair and he sits down, twisting his head to look back at you one more time to confirm that it’s you and not his overactive imagination playing tricks on him.

He catches you looking and you don’t even have the presence of mind to do anything but be mildly embarrassed and giddy that he’s actually here. That for the next four months, the chances of seeing him aren’t just increased but high. Is it a silly crush? Absolutely. But there’s nothing wrong with that in the least.

Javi tries to focus, but he catches himself wondering if you are listening. If you are happy that he will be here for the next four months.

He barely manages to mark comments during the read. His mind is forty feet in back of him sitting next to that folding table. It’s wrapped up in the navy blue dress and brown leather riding-style boots you have on today. He is utterly distracted beyond repair.

When the reading is finished with there is chatter at the table, a speech from the director, another from a different producer, and then one from the museum’s head curator.

You manage to hear most of what your boss says, straining a little only at times because of the size of the room, but the acoustics are good enough. She’s telling the cast and production crew that they’re going to be split into three groups to be led around the house by herself and the two docents here today. And then she excuses herself to bring Moira in while the whole cast breaks for something to eat before their tours.

Immediately Javi turns towards you and makes a beeline towards the chair where you are sitting. Or were sitting, now standing up and brushing down the front of your dress in an adorably nervous way. “Hi.” He rushes out when he gets within three feet of you.

“Hi.” The answering chirp is just as bright and excited as his is. You can’t help it. “I—I had no idea you’d be here.”

“I- I wrote the movie.” He’s not bragging, not really. He’s just stumbling for something to say without sounding like an idiot. “My agent, she insists that I be involved with the production. So that I can keep creative influence over the final product.” The success of the three movies he’s written so far has all but guaranteed that he gets what he asks for and she makes sure he does.

“You wrote a movie that takes place here?” Obviously he did, but you’re still stunned enough to be fumbled to connect all of the dots necessary to sound like an intelligent person. “Is that…I mean…it has to be, doesn’t it? Why you came back to visit the house? It really spoke to you.”

“That’s part of it.” Not all of it of course. The house is beautiful and did spark his interests, but that’s not the entire reason he kept coming back.

“Only part?” You can’t help feel yourself hoping. That dangerous, seductive, riotous feeling that takes wing in the hollow of your chest. That part of you dreams he’s thought about you a mere fraction as much as you’ve thought about him.

“I came back several other times.” He admits bashfully. “You were not here, I must assume you were off.”

“You…looked for me?” And just like that, hope’s wings unfurl into something so bold and beautiful that you almost erupt into disbelieving, giddy giggles.

“I liked our conversations.” He’s worried that it might have been improper until you start beaming at him. Making him smile in response.

“I did too.” It’s a terrible understatement, but it’s true.

“You did?” He brightens slightly, licking his bottom lip nervously. “I was worried that I was bothering you.” He admits with a laugh.

“Not at all.” In fact, the warmth in your cheeks at that simple confession runs all the way down your neck and blossoms in your chest. “I was afraid that I was bothering you.”

“Not at all.” He shakes his head vigorously. “I was disappointed to learn I couldn’t have a one-on-one tour.” He admits. “I asked once, when you were off, hoping to get you and you weren’t there anyway.” He can’t help but laugh at himself for that and shrugs.

“I’m certain we could manage one during filming, though things will be moved around. Our furniture and collections items are going into storage starting tomorrow.” It will be a very busy work day for your conservation and collections staff along with the moving company that has been hired, but the docents have the weekend off. You’ve planned a very busy weekend of sitting around and doing nothing at all.

He moves towards the tables that are ladened down with food and picks up a plate to hand to you. “I know, but the furniture will be replicas of the original furniture.” He had been specific about certain pieces in the script. “The set designer loved the originals.”

“Really?” Surely that must have cost a fortune, and it shocks you that he would have gone through so much work. “Is that why they want the cast and crew to see the set up of the house today?”

“Yes.” He nods. “I gave a specific tone for this movie.” He admits, smiling as he reaches for a mini croissant chicken salad. “Do you like these?” He offers, holding it out to you. “Craft services is really good.”

“I love chicken salad. Thank you.” Not to mention you’ll try just about anything once, but he’s hit on a favorite immediately. He sets two of the small sandwiches on your plate beside the scone you had already selected. “So you…write the film after visiting? Or did the house happen to fit the story that you wanted to tell?”

“I was starting the script.” He admits. “I was stuck on how I wanted it to be set and the house was mentioned. So I decided to come see it.” He chooses a little egg tart and hums. “That first visit is where you talked about the mosaic tiles. I knew then I wanted the movie set here.”

“Because of the tiles?” You ask, amused at the thought. He had been so entranced by the detail that you almost aren’t surprised.

“It’s is so specific.” He defends. “That had to be a decision that was made by the owners, the designers. I can’t imagine the builder caring if the tiles were the same marble.”

“You’re preaching to the choir,” you remind him with a gentle laugh. “I wish the family had kept more records about the design choices, but how could Mrs. Hollingsworth have known her house would become a museum?”

“It would be interesting to see.” He agrees, scooping some of the seafood salad onto his plate.

“The great-grandchildren, the ones that are still living, are notoriously hands off.” You explain as you go down the line together, filling your plates with all of the delicious looking offerings that catering has provided. “And their children have no connection to the house whatsoever. So whatever information we’re ever going to have…we pretty much already have it.”

“That’s sad.” He frowns slightly, remember his own big beautiful house that would be forgotten. It had been seized by the police when Lucas has been arrested.

“Perhaps we’ll do some digging in the archives one day or find something new in a trap door of the attic.” You hope you will, anyway. The more information the better. “Who knows?”

The two of you make your way through the line to the drinks and he picks up a strawberry lime soda. “Do you want to talk while we eat?” He asks. “Or do you have to meet with your boss?”

“No, I—I’d rather stay and talk to you.” It seems like a very forward thing to say, but you pick out a can of sparkling lemonade from the cooler and practically beam. “My boss will let me know who is in my tour group after lunch.”

“Then we should sit down.” He guides you over to table to sit, finding the leads of the film already sitting.

Sitting down to a casual lunch with movie stars was not something you had on your Bingo card for your life. Not really. Living in Southern California didn’t guarantee a damn thing and you certainly haven’t done any kind of acting since high school drama club. The best you can do is a polite if awkward smile as you sit down in the chair that is being held out for you and hope that small talk trends toward the house. That you can talk about.

“Javi, I am sooooo thrilled to work on this.” The lead actress, Tamara Wilson, has an impressive range from what he has seen in the audition clips. “The script is amazing.”

He sits down and ducks his head slightly. “Thank you.”

“It’s such character-focused story telling.” The younger of the two male leads, Jason Grant, is a relative newcomer but fought to get this role and he’s excited for it. “The research you did is incredible.”

He chuckles. “It was interesting.” He shoots you a glance. “The house is part of the focus of the film.” He explains since you haven’t read the script. “A character on her own.”

“She’s a very worthy to house to include.” A glowing part of you warms from the toes up at the idea that any of this might be because you talked to him about the house, and you don’t mind admitting that to yourself at all. “I’ll do my very best, we all will, to answer any question you all have about the house and the family here. I know the family in your movie will be different, but we’ll do so glad to answer any questions we possibly can.”

“Are there any secret passages?” Tamara asks, leaning in with the gleam of excitement in her eyes.

“Several.” You assure her with a grin. “I’ll show you when we walk around. The staff made their way through the house invisibly to make it like the place operated by magic alone.”

“That is amazing.” She gushes, looking around to try to figure out where an opening would be in this room. “Imagine the secrets they must have overheard.”

"Any time someone in a costume drama jokes that 'the maids know everything', it's not really a joke." Eating as you chat makes it feel slightly less daunting, especially with Javier sitting beside you looking like he's hanging on your every word. "Domestic staff knew everything about the people they worked for. And were usually privy to secrets that the family were keeping from each other, on top of it all."

“So you would want to make sure your staff was loyal to you.” She nods seriously and looks over past Jason to Alexander as he joins the four of you at the table. “Or in this case - you.” She snorts and rolls her eyes playfully.

"Me?" Alex points to himself, eyebrows raised, and sets his plate down beside the binder holding his script. "What did I do?"

Alex is objectively beautiful, even Javier can admit that as he glances over at the man that magazines call a ‘heartthrob’. It is rumored that he will be the next year’s Sexiest Man Alive and better yet, he’s a beautiful soul. Jason chuckles. “You have to make sure all the staff are loyal to you.” He explains and points at you. “Starting with her.”

"Oh," you fluster, clearing your throat gently and looking unintentionally bashful. "I'm afraid my loyalties are already spoken for. No hard feelings, gentlemen." It's a ludicrous thing to say to one of the biggest movie stars in Hollywood and a tv actor you've swooned over with Moira, but...it's true. And there's just no way to deny it.

“Well, damn.” Even though he’s just now getting involved with the conversation, Alex is nothing if not willing to tease and joke around with his casemates. “Way to break a man’s heart before introductions.” He reaches out his hand. “Alex Powell.” He introduces himself, giving that characteristic smile that has ladies normally swooning. “Sure I can’t change your mind?”

"As much as I appreciate the offer, Mr. Powell -- and it's very nice to meet you by the way -- I'm afraid not." You can think of at least a half dozen friends off the top of your head who would be screaming to shake Alexander Powell's hand right now, but you find yourself oddly impartial to him in this moment. Obviously he's handsome, but the man sitting to your right, with his gorgeous curls and bright brown eyes, has already laid every possible claim over your affections.

“Damn.” His eyes slide to your side and he notices the way Javi Gutierrez, the entire reason he signed on to the project, looks downright relieved at your answer. “Then you and I are going to be friends.” He decides, sending you a wink.

******

When the lunch break finishes, everyone clears away their dishes into the bins provided by the catering staff, and the museum's head curator steps up to the front of the group. "We'll split into three tour groups," she announces pleasantly, her characteristic smile broad across her face. "Group A will be the technical crew and production assistants. Group B will be the costumers, hair and make-up department, and Second Team actors. Group C will be First Team actors and production crew."

She looks out on the sea of assembled people, as the crew that were not on site for the read through all arrived during lunch time. "Group A will be with me, Group B with our docent Moira," she points to the north side of the ballroom and Moira waves. And then Leslie points in your direction, telling Group C that they will be taking their tour with you.

Javi lights up, hoping that he would be put with you, although he never would have protested. Whatever is happening between you both is fragile and this is your job. Calling attention to your boss is never a good thing, at least he would never willingly admit anything to Lucas before. Protecting that glowing feeling in his chest as he steps towards you.

"We keep getting lucky," you murmur, barely loud enough for him to hear as you smother a smile.

“I wonder if your boss decided to do that on purpose.” Biting his lip, he glances over at the older woman. “She is the one I spoke to about a private tour.”

“Maybe.” But you can’t say you mind. Not even a little bit. “Leslie is incredibly sweet. I can see her doing that. She’ll always do what she can to make people happy.”

“It won’t make you uncomfortable for me to be on the tour?” He doesn’t think that it will make you feel that way, but he wants to be sure. He knows he can be a little….intense at times.

“Why would I be uncomfortable with that?” If you’re being honest with yourself, you’d be a little jealous if he went on someone else’s tour. It’s just the crush talking, surely, but you feel connected to him. Like he would just wander away carrying a piece of you if he went with anyone else.

“I don’t know.” He shrugs and grins as he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Maybe I am being too bold?” He offers. “I can be over eager sometimes.”

"To be fair..." Having him talk of being bold makes you feel the same way. "You haven't actually said anything forward at all."

He realizes that you are right, but the way you say it makes his smile widen, reaching his eyes. “Perhaps you would like me to?” He asks, only to have Scott come up and clap him on the back.

“Tour time!” He grunts happily. “Javi, make sure to point out to Alex and Tamara where their clandestine scenes will be.”

You don't know the man from a hole in the wall but you are instantly frustrated with this producer. His timing was perfectly horrible and you nearly deflate at not being able to answer Javier right away. The best you can do right now is catch his eye as the group starts to assemble around you and mouth, 'Yes' with a nod of your head. Yes, you absolutely do want him to be bold. To make a move. To actually like you as much as you like him.

Javi tucks his hands deeper into his pockets and hangs back slightly so he can have a moment to celebrate. He hurries to catch up and is eager to hear everything you have to say.

All three tours start in different areas of the house. You walk the cast and main production crew through each room, talking to them about the architecture of the house, the use of each room, and the family that lived here. You show them the servant’s passages and answer as many questions as they have about the everyday workings of big houses and upper class families and large domestic staffs of the Gilded Age.

At one point, Tamara laughs in disbelief at the sheer breadth of the knowledge you have accumulated. “How did you get to be such an expert?” She asks, genuinely interested as she pokes around the dressing room attached to Mrs. Hollingworth’s bedroom on the second floor.

“They say it takes ten thousand hours to be an expert in something,” you shrug your shoulders. “I ended up studying history in college, put my focus on domestic history and the culture of families in the Victorian and Gilded eras, and then I’ve worked in house museums. So…maybe five years ago? Would be when those ten thousand hours were fulfilled?”

“Wow.” Javi is suitably impressed. “That is amazing. I think that I have only become an expert in movies.” He snorts. “Watching them, not making them. Not yet.”

“Do we have an on set historical consultant?” Alex asks Scott, turning to the producer with a flourish of his hands in your direction. “I mean we have one, but can we make her official?”

Javi nods in agreement when Scott glances towards him. “It would be good to have her on set. Help them with any needed facts and I could use her for potential re-writes.”

“Oh, I couldn’t— I—”

“Done.” Scott nods. “Save me having to hunt down resources for you, so I’m all for it.” He gives you the same too-pleased smirk and insincere wink that you’ve seen him give nearly everyone else. “Welcome to Hollywood, kid.”

Alex chuckles, moving over to you and slinging his arm around your shoulder. "Buckle up." He warns, jostling you playfully. "We will pick your brain clean. I want to make sure we get this on the radar for awards."

“Oh, but that…that’s down to all of you. Not to me.” Your mind is spinning but not at all in a bad way. It all feels like the most fantastic dream. “You’re going to help.” Tamara promises, confident and bubbling over with excitement. “And when we get those red carpet invitations, one of us will bring you as our date. You’ll have a blast.”

Javi's eyes widen, surprised by the idea coming from the lead actress but he doesn't deny that. Hoping that he wouldn't have to watch you walk the carpet with someone else. That would be his luck.

“That’s a very generous offer.” One that flusters you immeasurably, and you shuffle your booted feet in place. “I’m very excited to help, just nervous. That’s all.”

“Don’t be nervous.” Jason huffs, smiling at you and tugging Tamara close to his side. They have previous worked together on a small project and are happy to be reunited again. “We are just as normal as you are. We just have a job that is….public.” He chuckles.

“Let’s take a little break before we talk about Monday’s scenes.” Always working, Scott wipes his hands on each other and looks around. “Coffee.” He decides, heading off toward the catering table.

"Javier, I have a few questions about the script." Tamara poses, tilting her head as she looks towards Javi. "Would you mind chatting about it for a few minutes?"

His eyes float to you hesitantly, but you just smile. “I need to check in with my boss and let her know about the…the very generous consultant offer. Come and find me when you’re done?”

"I will." He nods, not even noticing the raised brows and shared smiles the actors share. Both of you are laying claim to each other and it's honestly interesting to watch.

Your heart is pounding as you make your way back over to Leslie and Moira, feeling like you're about to deliver terrible news when it probably won't change much of anything. Several of the other docents had taken the spring off rather than work on the movie set, and the ones who did want to be there for the film had had to fight for shifts.

"So how did your tour go?" Leslie asks, a small smirking smacks of smugness on her face. She had wondered if the writer of the script had a little crush on you when she finally put two and two together today. He was the same man who had been obviously looking for you when he asked about a personalized tour, describing you to a T.

"It was good." If you were glowing any more, you would be a lamppost. You're sure of that. But you can't help it in the least. "It was really great. Everyone is super nice."

"Especially your writer?" Moira asks with the biggest shit-eating grin on her face.

"What is his name?" Leslie asks, wondering if the two of you had actually had a conversation that is more than just longing glances and flirtatious banter. Both of you seem smitten, almost like you are soulmates.

"Javier." Even saying his name lights you up a little more, but you correct yourself a moment later. "Javi."

"Javi." She hums, nodding. "He looks like a Javi." She admits with a grin. "I didn't know if you had a stalker when he came in a few months ago and asked for you. Didn't know your name, but described you."

"We hadn't gone so far as to exchange names until today," you admit, practically biting your lip to keep your grin from growing even wider. "We had met twice before. He came in several times when he was writing the film, apparently."

"I knew that he had come in several times. I remember seeing him. Honestly? I was hoping he wasn't creepy, especially when I thought he kept coming back to look for you. I didn't let you know in case. I didn't let him know your schedule." In hindsight, she should have told you, but she is kind of a momma bear towards her docents. Protective.

"We appreciate that you take care of us, believe me." From time to time there are creepy guests who make the docents and other staff uncomfortable, so it's good that Leslie always keeps an eye out. The well-dressed Midwestern blonde looks unassuming but packs a wallop when she's displeased. "But Javi is very sweet. He's..." A dreamy sigh settles in your chest and you break out laughing. "I'm horribly smitten, guys. I'm sorry. I can't even pretend otherwise."

Moira's brows shoot up. "I knew you had a crush, but this— giirrrrrrl." She tilts her head. "You're acting like that man is your soulmate."

"Oh no." Another laugh escapes you, but this one isn't as big or full. "I don't think I could get that lucky."

“You don’t?” She scoffs doubtfully but she doesn’t press. Even if you don’t have shared scars with this man, it’s the most interested you’ve been with anyone in a long time. “Although I’m really fucking jealous that you got to breathe the same air as Alex Powell.”

"Actually, um...come to that." Looking apologetically between Moira and Leslie, you face your boss with the bravest and most simultaneously plaintive expression you can muster. "The production team has...invited me to fill a position." One which you can't understand why Leslie herself isn't filling, but maybe they asked her and she had to say no to...you know...run the museum. "They've asked me to be their on set historical consultant."

Leslie bites her lip, honestly amused that you are looking surprised by that offer. You are one of the most knowledgeable docents she has, probably that she’s ever had. “What do you think about that?” She asks seriously. “That could mean wildly different working hours.” She reminds you. “There’s going to be a lot of night filming.”

"I don't mind a change of hours. I mean...when am I ever going to get another chance to be on a movie set?" Still, you're twisting your fingers around each other nervously and wringing your hands. "I'd like to accept, if it's alright with you? I mean, you're my boss and in no way do I want to leave the museum. Tours are on hiatus until filming is finished anyhow, and if I take a leave of absence then you could give more docents hours being set supervisors." It was the job of the docents on set to watch over the house and protect it during filming. To basically be bodyguards for the house and always keep a watchful eye on things.

“I think that you would still be able to keep your hours here.” She says after a moment. “But it wouldn’t include overtime. Just your normal work week.” She shrugs. “Have they discussed pay?”

"Not yet. I assume I'll have to meet with someone from the studio and sign whatever contract they use for consultants." Not that you have any idea what any of that will mean, but you're eager to find out.

Moira, for her part, grins and hugs you to her side. "Fancy job and a fancy guy. Look at you!"

“That means that I will need you to step up as head docent.” Leslie reminds Moira with a smile. “Do you have any problem with that?”

“I will do my best to live up to it.” Moira agrees, though she knows she doesn’t have as much experience as you. Though she has worked at Hazelwood longer, you’ve been in museum work in general for more time and have a stronger academic background than she does. But she also knows that if Leslie thinks she can do it, then she shouldn’t be second guessing her own abilities.

"You will do wonderfully." She has faith in that, although she knows that she will also be around. She's protective of the house and interested in the movie that is being filmed here.

“It sounds like we’re all going to have a hell of a spring and summer on our hands.” You observe, eliciting laughs from the other two women.

Javi is discussing the script with Tamara and Scott when you walk back over. Listening to the actress seriously and contemplating her ideas. “Why don’t I write the pages, and you can see if it fits the character?” He asks, willing to take the changes and see. “Run through both and see which one you like better?” That is directed towards Scott, who knows what the director is looking for.

“If we can get it done over the weekend, we’ll test it.” Scott agrees. “Sally will be in tomorrow, she had one more producers she was meeting with today.” He checks his watch, checks his phone, and in the process of moving around spots you. “Do I need to talk to your boss for you?” He asks, seeing that you look nervous.

“Oh! No. It’s all set. Whatever contract you need me to sign, I’ll look over when it’s ready. But Leslie has no problem with the arrangement.”

“Good.” Javi knows the production will be fair. One of the reasons he was excited to work with this studio is because they have a good reputation.

“Good.” Scott agrees, clapping you in the shoulder and going off in the opposite direction.

Javi sees the confusion on your face and laughs. "Don't worry." He assures you. "There will be a contract brought around to you. It will be fair."

Javi is sitting beside Tamara, one leg crossed over the other and looking like the most relaxed and picturesque god of a man you’ve ever seen in your life. It’s not the contract that has you confused in this moment, it’s wondering how you got so lucky that he could actually be interested in you.

“I’ll let you two talk.” Tamara offers, flashing you a wink and a grin as she gets up to scoot away.

Javi smiles happily as you slide into the seat that Tamara vacates. Happy that you are going to be on set for the duration. He knows that he will be here too, already asking if he could have a space to set up his equipment instead of working from home like he had originally anticipated. "Are you happy to be asked to work on the movie?" He asks curiously. "You will be listed in the credits."

“It’s all a little surreal,” you admit, perched on the edge of the chair like you’re afraid it might get swept out from under you at any second. “I always dreamed about working in Hollywood. I mean who doesn’t at some point? But I never thought it would actually happen.”

“Honestly? Same.” He laughs quietly. “I had dreams, but with my family….” He frowns slightly and shrugs it off. “It was not possible until a few years ago. I was just obsessed with film. Movies. The magic and wonder of it all.”

“I’m sorry your family wasn’t supportive.” You shift in your seat to face him better and feel your heart leap up into your throat almost instantly. You could have sworn you saw the flicker of something above the line of his loafer but it can’t be.

He’s always uncomfortable when talking about his family. Shifting slightly in his seat and moving his ankle to rest on his knee. “That is the past.” He offers with a small smile. “I look towards the future.”

“I—I’m—I’m really sorry, but…” With your pulse pounding blood so loudly in your ears that it has drowned out your thoughts. “Your ankle—?” Clear as day now, the vertical scar on the inside of his ankle that curves ever so slightly at the top like a Shepard’s crook is exposed for anyone to see.

It can’t be. Can it?

He frowns for a second before he follows your eyes to his leg and he nods. “Oh.” It’s an old scar, not red or angry. Just a silvery distortion of his skin. “Old injury.” He explains. “I fell out of an olive tree when I was younger.” He was pushed out, by Lucas, but he doesn’t talk about that. “The old iron fencing around the base wasn’t kind.” He adds, lifting his pant leg so you can see it properly.

The strangled sort of hiccupping sound you make is barely smothered by your hand flying to your lips, but the water rising up in your eyes can't be disguised. "A-and...and...how long ago was that?" It's impossible, and yet here it is right in front of you. A mark you know as well as you know any other shape in the world.

Javi told his head curiously, surprised by your reaction to his scar. “About twenty years ago.” He murmurs cautiously. “I was old enough to know better. Why?”

"I—" You could explain. You could. But words have utterly failed you in this moment. This moment that has you reaching to unzip your right boot and pull your sock away from your ankle to expose the very same shepherd’s crook scar on your own skin.

Javi’s confused smile quickly slides into a frown. Tugging his lips down as his eyes widen. Shock making his mouth hang open and he slides out of his seat to his knees in front of your leg. Looking up at you for a moment to confirm you aren’t playing a prank on him. Then looking down and slowly reaching for your ankle to rub his thumb over the scar that matches his. He doesn’t care about the short, stubbly leg hair where you obviously haven’t shaved in a few days. Too entranced by the rippled skin that is smoother than his own since your skin wasn’t ripped open but matches his in every way. “You-“ His eyes light up and he exhales roughly. “You are my soulmate.”

"Do you..." Dry sobs stick in your throat, but the ecstatic warmth of his touch to your skin is its own answer. "Do you...have a tattoo of a blue morpho butterfly on your ribcage?"

He lets go of your ankle and starts to pull his button up shirt out of the waistband of his pants. Pulling it up to expose his right side. The perfect little butterfly at the top of his ribcage showing against his skin.

The whole rest of the room has gone silent around you, but neither you or Javi has noticed in the least. The whole rest of the world might have ceased to exist and you would never have known the difference. "This is unbelievable..." you breathe, reaching out to touch his skin with the same reverence and gentle care than he caressed your ankle.

“You- you - when did you get this?” He asks seriously, voice barely above a whisper.

"Eight years ago." Please let it be true, please let it be true...

He nods, his smile starting to stretch his face. “May, right?”

"Right." All at once the water spills over, two tears streaking down your cheeks. "Oh my god..."

“I cannot believe it.” He gasps, reaching for your cheek and wiping away your tears before he frowns. “Unless….you don’t like that?” He asks, wondering why you are crying.

"Like it?" A disbelieving laugh blows the entire thought away and you take his hand in yours. "I'm overjoyed."

“Fantastic.” He allows himself to be happy. To show it on his face and he beams. “That’s fantastic.”

“Can I…” It all sort of washes over you in a wave of too many things to parcel them all out from each other. “Can I…Give you a hug or something? I don’t even know what comes next. I just…I can’t believe it.”

“I want to kiss you.” He confesses. Now understanding why he was so drawn to you. You were like the flame to his moth. He couldn’t resist your pull.

"Thank god," you almost burst out laughing, barely containing the sound. "I wasn't sure if that was too much to ask for."

It’s like a scene in a movie, you are still laughing as he cups your head in his hands and lunges forward. Kissing you with joy and elation, groaning immediately when your lips touch his.

It isn't as though you've never been kissed. Kissed well, even. But this leaves every other good kiss so far behind that the trail of dust would stretch for miles. The warmth and welcome of him is all consuming, to the point that you nearly slide out of your seat just to get closer to him and sink farther into the kiss.

He loses all concept of time, of space, as he kisses you. Everything has faded into the background or completely disappears. Wondering at how right this feels.

It’s only when you come out of it — breaking the kiss for air and barely open your eyes to be able to look your soulmate in the face again — that you realize that everyone else in the room has erupted into whistles, cheers, and applause.

Javi starts to blush, looking around the room sheepishly and then back at you. Starting to giggle and he leans in to kiss you again. “My soulmate.”

"My soulmate." The word sounds so incredible breathed against his lips.

“Let’s get married.” Javi blurts out impulsively, grinning at you.

The rush of your heartbeat rockets through the roof, but you cling to him and some sort of ecstatic, nearly crazed laugh crosses your lips. "Yes." No hesitation. No worries. No second guessing. Just the absolute certainty that this is meant to be.

“Yes?” He is almost in disbelief and then you nod, cupping his face and kissing him back. “Yes!” He shouts and leaps up to drag you up and spin you around the room. “We are getting married!”

Gasps and more applause are the least of it, as it seems that everyone in the ballroom crushes in around the both of you in a flurry of excitement. Questions come from all angles, but you can barely hear them. can barely process any of it. It's a whole world just swirling around you when all that matters is him.

It’s only the sound of others cheering that brings him back down to reality. Making him turn and look at the cast, crew and production team clapping and grinning. He gives an embarrassed chuckle and turns back to you, his forehead pressed against yours. “We have made a scene.” He hums, smiling.

“I don’t mind,” you tell him, still giggling softly in his arms. “Not at all.”

“You don’t?” That makes him chuckle happily. “That’s good.”

Moira and Leslie are practically in giggling tears to your left, ready to swoop in and hug you into oblivion and Tamara looks like she’s ready to cry too.

“What?” She huffs when Jason prods her. “It’s so romantic!”

“Romantic, yes.” He rolls his eyes, “but what are we going to doooooo about it?” He’s secretly a big softie. “That means the walk through is done for the day. They are going to go get married.”

“So? I don’t mind ending early so soulmates can go get married.” In fact she’s positively gooey over the idea for about three seconds until she remembers herself. “Oh! Oh!! I can marry you!” Tamara crows, all but clapping with joy. “If you want me to, I mean! I got certified last year for my cousin.”

“Now that is an idea.” Leslie agrees with a growing smile. “We have almost everything we need right here.”

Javi knows that he would give you anything when you turn those wide, hopeful eyes on him. “Do you want to get married here?” He asks. “I don’t mind.”

“Is that okay with you?” If you’re being honest, you’ve dreamt of having your wedding here for just as long as you’ve worked at Hazelwood, but you would understand if he had something else in mind. “It’s fitting, really, isn’t it? Since we met here.”

"It is perfect." He would do anything to keep that look of absolute happiness on your face. "It will be part of our story, woven into the fabric of our lives."

“Do you really want to do it now?” The idea is so wonderfully romantic that you almost sigh. “Like tonight?”

His eyes shift back towards Leslie. "Can we make it happen?" He asks her. "Small, beautiful. Involving anyone and everyone who wants to participate?" He knows he doesn't have family and you've not mentioned any, so it is almost fitting that your friends and work family be involved. The cast and crew almost look giddy at the idea of contributing.

“Absolutely.” She kinds around at all the eager faces. “We have plenty of hands to help. You two go and get yourselves ready. Whatever you two need personally. We’ll take care of food, music, decorations, and everything else.” Your boss glances at her watch and flashes you a smile. It’s just the middle of the afternoon now, giving everyone plenty of time. “How does a seven o’clock wedding sound?”

“Does that work?” He asks you, not sure what you would want to happen before this wedding. “I will need to get you rings.”

“You need a ring too,” you remind him, with that glowing smile still in tact on your face. “We would need to find a boutique, I guess? It’s not like I have a wedding dress hanging around in my closet.” Some girls do. Dresses passed down from generation to generation. You’re not that lucky, unfortunately, and even if you were in better terms with your family…they’re all on the east coast anyway.

“A dress, yes, yes.” He nods enthusiastically and then he frowns. “I- the studio car brought me.” He looks over at Scott, who grins. “I think we can make some arrangements.” He offers, walking over with the director. “What do you think about filming some of this? Obviously we wouldn’t announce it now, but think of the press when the film is being released!” He practically has hearts in his eyes over the prospect.

The thought almost stuns you, but within seconds you’re shrugging your shoulders and looking up at Javi. “I don’t mind, if you don’t. It would be nice to have footage of the wedding.” Of marrying your soulmate.

“Javi?” His brows raise as he looks over at him. “Imagine the press junket. The curiosity ticket sales. People will flock to watch a movie that brought soulmates together.” Javi chuckles and nods. “Fine, but we get a copy of all of the film and we approve when it’s released and what is shown.”

“Deal.” Scott offers his hand to seal it, and is practically giddy when Javi shakes it.

“Do you have anyone you want to call?” You ask him quietly. “A friend you would want to stand up for you? Or family nearby?”

“I do have some friends.” He admits with a grin. “What about you?”

“She’s already here.” And standing maybe four feet away, at that. You look over to Moira with a grin. “You’re up for being a whirlwind maid of honor, right?”

“Of course!” Moira squeals and Alex grins as he slides up beside you.

“Why don’t you let me walk you down the aisle?” His eyes are serious, even when his tone and grin are silly. “It would be an honor to serve.”

Matching his playfully nonchalant expression, you shrug your shoulders as if you’re not sure. “I dunno, my man. That’s a big ask. I’m gonna expect you to have my back and be ready to step up when shit hits the fan. That sound doable?” The fact is, you don’t really know how your Mom would feel if she were here, or your brother, and your father died when you were just a teenager. So an offer from a new friend is as good as any other you’re going to get.

His brows pull together and he purses his lips seriously. “Absolutely.” He huffs, nodding. “I’m here for at the fan hitting shit.”

“Then I guess we’re gonna go for a walk together tonight.” It’s just about the most casual way you could ever decide such an important thing, but there is something almost brotherly about the way he’s warmed up to you. Once he knew you weren’t going to fall at his feet, he seemed to instantly decide you are his friend.

“Awesome.” He perks up and throws his arm around you. “I’ve got a suit in my car.” He winks at Javi playfully. “Never know when I’m going to meet my soulmate.” He jokes, knowing full well it’s just that he had picked up his dry cleaning and his agent always wants him to have dress clothes on hand in case. Just in case.

“For your sake, I hope they turn out to be a very energetic person,” you tease, but being your attention back to Javi quickly. “We have a lot to do in just as couple of hours.”

“You two go, get all the stuff you need and we will be waiting.” Alex unwraps his arm from around you as Jason comes up and shrugs. “While I can’t do much – what’s your favorite flowers?” He asks.

Flowers sounds like a hell of a lot to you, and you look to Javi for confirmation. "I don't mind what they are, but I think they should be white. Right?"

“Whatever color you want.” Javi tells you indulgently. “It doesn’t have to be white.”

"Really?" That surprises you, and you feel like you have to check with him before you actually give a real answer.

“Do you want the flowers to be white?” He asks, frowning slightly as he wonders if he has misspoken. “It is beautiful. But colors are beautiful as well if you want a bright arrangement.”

"I actually really like Gerber Daisies..." A flower you were always told was childish and unserious. How can a flower have a maturity level? "The big, colorful ones? I think they're beautiful."

“Then you should have Gerber Daisies.” He can’t call them to mind right away, but he is sure they are stunning. “Jason?” He looks over to him. “Can you find her the most beautiful Gerber daisies?”

"On it." He promises. It's not a well-known fact, since little about him is well known at all, but he grew up in and around his parents' florist business. He can definitely do a daisy wedding bouquet. "It'll be beautiful."

“Does that work for you?” Javi asks as he looks back at you in complete adoration.

"Absolutely." Honestly, the fact that everyone is pitching in so quickly and willingly is magical on its own. Everything else is a beautiful bonus.

“Good.” He grasps your hands and brings them up to his lips to kiss the back of them. “Shall we go? Get what we need?”

You and Javi head out of the museum – thanking Scott for the offer of a ride, but you have your car. This is something that you want to be able to do in private, and for you that means time that is only spent between you and your soulmate.

It might not be a flashy car, but she's gotten you through thick and thin, so when you climb in beside him you let out a contented little hum. "There's a soulmate boutique in downtown. They say they have everything a couple needs but...maybe you have someplace in mind that you would rather go? It's your call." Though it calls itself a boutique, the place is more like an emporium. Couples who want to get married quickly aren't looking to run all over the place to get what they need, so it's more or less a one-stop shop for wedding wear.

“Call.” His eyes widen and he pulls out his phone. “Yes, that’s fine. I need to make a call. See if they are in L.A.” He looks over at you and grins. “My good friend. I want him to come.”

"You do that, I'll drive," you laugh, turning the key in the ignition and heading out of the museum parking lot.

“Thank you.” He quickly pulls up his contacts and selects Nick’s number. “Hopefully he isn’t filming somewhere.”

The line rings three times before it connects, and Olivia Cage's smooth, musical voice comes over the line. "Hello Javi!"

“Olivia!” He lights up when he hears her voice and he shifts in the passenger seat. “Please tell me you and Nick are in L.A.?” He begs, immediately launching into the reason for his call.

"Javi! Javi! Slow down, sweetheart." She laughs when he immediately starts talking to quickly for her to keep up with. "Nick and Addy are just watching a movie in the living room, let me hand the phone over."

There is a little commotion on the other end of the line, but after a few seconds, Nick's voice comes over loud and clear. "Javi! We're at home tonight. Did you want to get together?"

“Could you be at Hazelwood Park in Santa Barbara by seven tonight?” Javi asks Nick, beaming through the phone. “I’m getting married.”

"You're get—you're getting married?!" Nick practically shouts on the other end of the line, and you laugh beside him with equal joy. "How?" Nick breathes. "Who? And of course we'll be there!"

“Well, I think the normal way.” He huffs out a laugh and almost looks like he will tear up for a second when he looks over at you as you drive. “My soulmate, Nick. I met my soulmate today. Not today. I’ve actually met her several times before but we— she has my scar. And I have her tattoo.” He rambles, knowing Nick will follow easily, they had spent far too much time together for him not to.

"The girl with the butterfly tattoo!" Nick howls with glee. He's seen that butterfly a hundred times -- whenever they go swimming – and knows how badly Javi has wanted to meet his soulmate. The instinct to love without restriction is at the heart of who Javi is. "Absolutely. Absolutely we'll be there. How can we help?"

“Just be there!” He laughs. “We are getting our rings and a dress for her now. The house should be set by the time we get back. They are filming my movie there.” He explains. “The cast and crew are going to be there too.”

"Do you need me to swing by your place and bring you a suit?" Nick offers, knowing Javi has a few particular pieces left in his wardrobe that he dearly loves.

Javi bites his lip and looks over at you. “Do you mind?” He asks you. “I have a suit that would be perfect.”

"Just tell me which one, buddy." Nick already has a key to Javi's house and knows his alarm code, so it's just a matter of swinging by. The place may technically be unfinished, but he's spent more time there than anyone besides Javi himself.

He looks over at you. “The royal blue Armani.” He decides. “Ferragamo loafers and the Givenchy cufflinks.”

It sounds extremely fancy and extremely expensive, and you hope that this boutique has something even half as spectacular for you so you can match him. Headed down the backroads into downtown, you reach for Javi's hand as you drive and give it a squeeze.

Nick assures him that he will get everything Javi needs and he’s quickly hanging up the phone. “That’s alright, right? Royal blue?” He asks, hoping he didn’t mess up.

"It sounds beautiful," you promise him.

“Shit.” He frowns. “I forgot to tell him to get a belt.”

"Don't worry," you urge him. "If that's the only thing we forget tonight, I think we'll be in excellent shape. But if it bothers you, I'm sure we can get one at the boutique. It won't be half as nice as the rest of your suit, but it will do the trick."

“You must pick out any dress you want.” His eyes light up happily. “So they have rings there? At this boutique?”

"Supposedly there is a jewelry department, a dress one, one for suits, all of it." You glance over at him while you drive, heart fluttering when you get a look at his perfect curls and sharp jaw. "One of the other docents went there when she met her soulmate last year."

“That is good.” Javi agrees easily, reaching for your hand and wishing it was your left. That one is firmly on the steering wheel. “If you do not like the rings there, we will find one you do like.” He promises. “I want you to love your rings.”

“I’m not picky,” you assure him, steering the car through the winding streets. “It’s more important to me that they come from you than what they are. So I’m sure we’ll be able to find something we both like.”

“You should be picky.” He frowns. “I hope you are wearing them for years. Until they are upgraded.”

“The only way I’m taking one of those rings off for more than a cleaning is if it’s getting passed on to our grandchild,” you tell him with absolute certainty. Your eyes flick back to the road as you move over a lane, the enormous boutique building is coming up on the right. “But I don’t think it will be hard to find something I love.”

“Grandchild.” He whispers the word, eyes bright at the mere mention of something so fantastical that he hadn’t been able to imagine it before now.

“Too soon?” You cringe slightly, wondering if talking about a family is the line that shouldn’t be crossed yet despite the fact that this is your soulmate and you’re on your way to buy things for your wedding.

“No.” He practically yelps the word and twists in his seat to vigorously shake his head. “I want kids.” He promises. “Lots of kids. I mean- as many as you want to have.” He amends and looks nervous, like you might shut down the idea completely if he doesn’t say what you want.

Carefully turning the car into the building’s lot and putting it in park, you take both of Javi’s hands and offer him the absolute softest smile you are capable of conjuring in this moment. Who hurt this poor, sweet puppy dog of a man that he looks so afraid to talk to you?

“I want a big family too,” you promise him. “But if we ever disagree on what we want, or I get too excited and jump ahead on something that you’re not comfortable with, I need you to tell me, okay handsome? And I’ll tell you, too.”

“Yes.” He agrees quickly, relaxing because of your soft touch. It’s already soothing to him. “I have to confess…” he bites his lip. “I have had relationships before.” He confesses, hoping that you will not judge him too harshly for that.

“I have too.” A lot of people don’t. Preferring to wait for their soulmate. But you had been worried on that point. “I…didn’t want to meet you one day and know nothing.”

Something dark flashes in Javi’s eyes. Desire and want, twisted with the kind of possessiveness that springs out of love. “That’s good.” He rasps out, his tongue wetting his bottom lip.

The change in his expression is fast enough that you miss it when you glance away for just a half a second to undo your seatbelt, but you lean back over again to kiss his cheek right after. “Let’s go inside?”

“Of course.” He smiles as he nods, squeezing your hand and hating to let it go when he has to unclip his own seatbelt and get out of the car. He will have to get you a new one, right away. Missing the garage that had been full of sporty, flashy cars for a moment, he waits for you to walk around to him since he is closer to the shop door.

Your hand slips into his again with ease, and the beat that your heart skips is made up for when you both hurry inside the building, eager to start getting ready for the night.

“I have never been in a soulmate boutique.” Javi confesses as he reaches forward to open the door for you. “You will have to show me where to go.”

“I can help with that.” A friendly woman with a blonde bob at the reception desk in the front of the store waves you both over. “My name is Cindy. How can I help you today?”

“Hello, Cindy.” Javi holds your hand proudly and guides you over to the desk. “This gorgeous creature is my soulmate and we are getting married today.”

"Well, congratulations." She smiles broadly, as though that isn't a sentence she hears once at day at bare minimum. "We can help with as much or as little as you need. Everything from rings to the dress to a suit, flowers, we can even book you in at the soulmate chapel in the Arts District."

"We have a venue and flowers," you tell her, feeling like you're vibrating beside Javi as you hold his hand. "And he has a suit. We'll both need rings and I need a dress."

"We can absolutely do that for you." Emerging from behind the desk, Cindy beckons for the two of you to follow her around a corner into the belly of the boutique. "Come right this way and we'll start with rings."

“Wait.” Javi pulls short, tugging on your arm. “When you pick your dress, should I see it?” He asks seriously. “I thought Americans believe it’s bad luck?”

"Some do." Though you shrug one shoulder. "I don't mind, though. If you don't."

He blinks in surprise and then smiles, lunging forwards to kiss your lips. “Yes. I want to see.” He admits with a grin. “I want to see all the dresses you could choose and see why you pick the one you do.”

"And I want your opinion," you tell him honestly. Every time he kisses you, you feel like you're melting, so the gooey smile on your face is pretty appropriate right now. "I want to know which one you like best, too."

“I would probably say buy them all.” He chuckles. “Wear one every year on our anniversary. Which will be today.” He beams again as he realizes that.

"Valentine's Day is the day we met." The reminder is sweet, soothing the ache of every lonely Valentine's past with the thought, and the two of you walk on together easily. The jewelry section of the store is immense, with a half dozen display cases full of beautifully glinting rings in all sizes, shapes, and styles.

“There are so many.” Javi chokes out, looking around the large, very brilliantly lit display cases. Every diamond sparkles and he knows you will find something you love. “We have a variety of options and price points.” She tells you both discreetly.

"My taste is fairly simple," you promise. He did offer to pay for everything, but you have no intention of going crazy. "And it doesn't have to be a diamond. There are plenty of beautiful stones."

He looks positively offended over that. “Did you know that diamonds are only the fifth most expensive gemstone per carat?” He asks you. “What is your favorite color?”

"It sounds silly." Another shrug, but at least you don't feel silly about this saleswoman seeing the two of you getting to know each other. She must certainly see couples getting married who have known each other far less. "But I like silver a lot."

“Silver.” He frowns slightly and tilts his head. “Would you like your setting to be silver?” He asks seriously.

"It doesn't have to be so serious, Javi," you assure him, smiling softly because this man just does that to you. You feel soft around him every second. "If you like yellow gold better, your ring doesn't have to match mine."

“I just want you to have exactly what you want.” Too often he had been accused of being too cheery and now you are telling him that he’s too serious. “I want to match your ring.”

"Is white gold, or silver, or what have you...is that okay with you?"

“Any of it.” He shrugs. His pinky ring is gold, but he will be fine with that. It’s on his right hand anyway.

"Then let's take a look." There are no shortage of choices, so who knows what you'll find. But you gravitate toward the nearest case with ease.

The two of you debate size, shape, gemstones. Laughing together as Javi points out one ring that is particularly hideous and at least you can both agree on that one to be marked off the list. Javi wishes for you to have something large and flashy and you want something more subdued.

It takes quite a bit of back and forth before you at least nail down a design. Three stone rings seem to be both of your favorite, and after a little more debating back and forth, Cindy disappears to another case on the other side of the jewelry section and comes back with a few options that have impressive center stones with dainty accents. It's the style of the design that you favor with slightly larger stones like Javi prefers. "They're not the biggest stones we have," she cautions, not wanting you to feel overwhelmed. "But they are stand out in terms of cut and quality. Very eye-catching."

“What do you think?” Javi wants you to love your rings, but he also wants to make sure that no one thinks that he is a pauper. It’s egotistical, but it’s the truth.

"They're still quite big." That isn't up for debate, but Javi seems to be quite certain that the cost is not an issue, and has barely looked at price tags so far. A conversation about his net worth is going to have to happen at some point because he's very clearly in a different tax bracket than you are, but that's for later. "The pear-shaped and the princess cut are the prettiest, I think...which do you like?"

“Whichever you want.” He would have chosen the emerald cut, but he would rather you have the choice. “I promise, I will not be upset.”

"Can I try on the pear?" Trying it on makes it seem to much more real, and Cindy hands you the ring carefully from its velvet stand.

"This will work with any band that you like, the setting is nicely elevated to compliment almost any choice." She tells you, but you barely hear it. it's like magic happens as that ring slides onto your finger, and you gasp quietly under your breath.

It’s perfect. Javi stares at the ring on your finger. The shape of the ring making your hand look even more elegant. The stone is not so overpowering that it looks like you are a child playing dress up with your mother’s rings. “Sweetheart?”

"I love it..." you breathe, hardly able to believe it's so perfect, and you look up at him with watery eyes. "The same way I love hearing you call me sweetheart."

He melts. His face softening into something akin to pure wonder as he looks down at the ring on your finger and he kneels down to one knee in front of you. “This is the one?” He asks softly, holding your hand and looking up at you. “Just like you are my one?”

“It’s perfect. Like you’re perfect.” Having a deeply romantic soulmate was always something you had wished for, but the way Javi seems to wear his heart of his sleeve is so much more than you ever could have hoped for.

He surges back to his feet to press his lips to yours. Ecstatic that this is happening. His soulmate.

Cindy only smiles, waiting for the moment to be enjoyed, before she begins to bring out bands for both of you. They rang from elaborate to simple, but she has a feeling this gentleman will prefer the elaborate.

“You should have this one.” Javi points to a band that is a solid circle of Princess cut diamonds to make up the surface. “Since you liked the princess cut solitaire too.”

"It's stunning." His flare for showy rings is very apparent, but in the moment you're so swept up that you forget to care. The gorgeous rings will be well loved and well cared for and that is what matters to you. "Do you want something ornate as well? Carved, or even with a diamond of your own?"

“What about this one?” He asks, pointing to a matching men’s ring. The circle of Princess cut diamonds is surrounded by the thick white gold band on either side.

The channel-set stones wink and shimmer in the bright store lighting, as if to say that completely agree with his choice. "A matching set," you agree with a nod.

It is a beautiful ring, but anything you choose he would be happy to wear. “Then I think that we have found our rings.” He picks it up and slides it on his finger to see how it fits and practically giggles with excitement when he sees a wedding band on his hand.

"I'll box these pieces up for you." Cindy offers, but pauses before gathering up the three-stone ring. "Unless you'd prefer to present your soulmate with her engagement ring now?" She offers, looking to Javi. She can easily just remove the tag and add it to the growing total. "I can retrieve the ring in her size from the case for you."

“Yes.” Javi decides instantly, beaming at you. “I want her to wear it out of the boutique.”

"Just one moment." She thought he might feel that way, and she disappears just only long enough to polish the ring and clip off the tag before bringing it back to him in its velvet box to be presented to you however he chooses. "I'll go and let the dress department know to expect you. Just move into the next room when you're ready," she tells you both with a sunny smile.

“I wish that there was something more romantic about this.” Javi confesses. “Imagine you are at your bench, sweetheart.” He decides, grinning at you. “Waves crashing all around you and the smell of the ocean hovering.”

"It's our bench now." It had been, to you, since that day before Christmas. You had spent too much time sitting there and thinking of him. Thinking of that day. Wondering if you would ever see him again.

“Our bench.” He agrees, beaming at you again as he guides you over to a bench that is not your bench, but it will substitute just fine. “Close your eyes.” He begs when he has you sat down.

You comply without hesitation, sitting up straight on the small bench with your hands on your knees. Life with Javi seems like it will have a certain flair for the dramatic – or at least special occasions will.

He’s sinking down to a knee again. This time with tears starting to form in his own eyes. This isn’t a movie. This is real life and it seems like he is finally getting his happily ever after. Murmuring your name softly, he smiles. “You are my soulmate.” He whispers. “The other half of my very existence. I have waited and wondered and dreamed about you my entire life and now you are here.” He swallows harshly as your eyes twitch. He opens the ring box and takes your hand. “I can’t live another day without you being my wife. Marry me. Marry me and make me complete.”

His voice is slightly choked, filled with emotion, and the tears that press against the back of your own eyes just from hearing it would surely be spilling over if your eyes were opening now. But since you've been instructed to keep them shut, you lean forward with your hands out and find his broad shoulders -- the pathway that bring your hands up to cup his cheeks. "The sooner the better," you promise him, with such a broad smile that even your soft promise comes out on a giddy giggle. "Now can I open my eyes to kiss you or are you going to come to me?"

“Oh, uh, yeah.” He had halfway expected you to open them when he asked the question, not expecting you to wait for his cue. “Open your eyes sweetheart.”

They are only open for a half second. Just long enough to lean all the way over to kiss him. But it's enough. It's all you need. It's all you need to be able to embrace this moment fully (and tearfully) with your soulmate as he slides your new engagement ring onto your finger just hours before you plan on marrying.

Javi sinks into the kiss, gathering you close and sighing against your lips happily until a discreet cough breaks through the fuzzy haze of love. “Pardon me.” Cindy smiles when he looks over at him. “The girls are pulling a number of dresses for you to try on.” She tells you.

“Thank you.” You’re not going to be embarrassed at all about the kiss. Not when you feel like you’ve waited three lifetimes to find this kind of joy and anticipation for the future.

Javi rubs his thumb over the ring happily and stands, pulling you up gently. “Time to pick out your dress.”

The girls as Cindy calls them, are two very sweet young women just a touch younger than you that run the dress department in this store. One blonde and one redhead, they are surrounded by a seeming sea of plush fabrics when you and Javi walk over together.

Javi’s eyes widen and he looks around in shock at all the styles, materials, laces. It’s so much that he wouldn’t have a clue where to begin.

"I think we're both a little spoiled for choice," you tell them, feeling very much like you agree with the awestruck and overwhelmed look on Javi's face. "Where would you recommend that we start?"

The girls are quick to start bringing out dresses to get a a sense of your style and preferences so they can match you up with the perfect dress.

Several are too revealing for you taste, and some are far too complicated in their designs. You're not looking to wear architecture on your wedding night, you want to be able to move. "Is there a such thing as a traditional dress without a train?" You ask, instantly feeling like you must be the pickiest person in the world for even asking. "I—I like to dance, that's all. And trains always look silly to me when they're bustled."

“No train.” Javi can agree with that and when you give him a questioning look, he nods in agreement. “I want you to have exactly what you want.”

"Does 'traditional' mean you're looking for a larger dress?" The chipper blonde asks, looking between both you and Javi. It's clear you're making the decision together. "Like a ballgown? Something with that princess feel?"

“She is a princess.” Javi immediately jumps into the idea feet first. “Better than any Disney character mister Walt Disney could think of himself.”

He loves it so much that you don't even consider not trying one on. "Let's see what a ballgown looks like." You agree, indicating one with a sweetheart neckline and lots of intricate lace that is hanging on the back of a dressing room door.

“You don’t have to pick something you think I will like.” He promises as they start to take dresses away and rush off to pull more. “This is your dress. I want you to feel as beautiful as you are.”

"I've never worn a ballgown." You bend down to lay a kiss on his lips before getting up to go into the dressing room. "It can't hurt to find out."

“You might hate it.” He snorts in amusement. “But it does fit the theme of the house.”

"I guess we're about to find out." Flashing him a broad smile, you disappear into the dressing room to tackle that great big, beautiful dress and see how it feels. It takes several minutes of finesse and manuevering with the help of one of the girls, but when you emerge you carefully school your reaction so you can see what Javi thinks first. The big bell of the gown's skirt is lighter than you expected but it has a seriously satisfying swish and you really do feel like fairy tale royalty.

“Magnificent.” Javi murmurs in awe, freezing mid turn as he stares at you. “You look- like a princess.”

“It’s huge.” Barely able to contain a giggle as your eyes widen, the mirror in front of you contains an image you barely recognize…but in the best way possible. It’s the version of you that you used to dream about. Fairy tales and all. So when you turn to look at Javi again, you’re almost as awestruck as he is. “It’s almost perfect.”

“Almost?” He tilts his head to the side and frowns as he looks over the dress again. “What is it missing?”

“It’s…a bit large.” You laugh, swinging your hips a little so the skirt imitates a large bell. “I feel a bit like I ought to be hung in a church in this thing.”

“So a smaller version of the skirt?” He asks. “Or do you want a form fitting dress?”

“Just a small ballgown, I think?” The question really goes to the two women helping you, but they are already moving to sort through what they have brought out. One has a halter and too-low neckline. One is encrusted with beading and jewels. One has large, poofy, sheer sleeves. None of them are quite right, but you try on a simple taffeta version of the silhouette. Just plain and simple. And that is nearly perfect.

Simple is generally how you like things, and this excursion into wedding dresses seems to prove it to you, but when you go out to show Javi, you can tell right away that he feels the same way you do. There is something missing.

“What about ivory?” The dresses have been separated by color and none of the ivory dresses have been chosen. “Or do you want pure white?” He wonders if it is a faux pas or if it’s just preference.

“Ivory could be good.” For that matter, it doesn’t have to be white for you to love it. But that is the easiest option.

“I have just the one.” The round-faced redhead promises, ushering you back into the dressing room. “Not too poofy, no train, fit for a queen.”

Javi stares at the display of accessories, biting his lip as he sees a tiara and he knows he wants you to wear one. It would be perfect. His princess.

There is a great deal of rustling and laughter and excited chatter coming from the dressing room, and when you emerge you’re wearing possibly the single most beautiful dress you’ve ever seen in real life — let alone most beautiful thing you have ever worn.

The silk jacquard fabric is luxurious and detailed without being extravagant or ostentatious. The simple corset bodice and Basque waist make you look as elegant as royalty. It has a full skirt for that princess affect but it isn’t so big that it makes it difficult to move, and best of all it feels right.

“What do you think?” You ask Javi, but frankly you’re dabbing away tears and it’s obvious how much you love the dress. This is your wedding dress.

The moment he sees the softness in your eyes, he knows you’ve fallen in love with it. You look like a scene from a movie. The big reveal of the princess at the top of the stairs where everyone turns and gaps in amazement and the prince at the bottom thanks his lucky stars that you are his. Which is what Javi is doing right now. The tiara in his hand, carefully removed from the display case, seems to perfectly match and he smiles. “It’s only missing this, princesa.”

The headpiece is made up of stars like something out of a painting you once saw in a history book, and it feels like such a silly thing to bend your head so he can set it in your hair (thank goodness you’re having a good hair day!) but it feels perfect. It feels extraordinary. And standing next to him is the first time you’ve truly felt extraordinary in your entire life.

You steal his breath when he steps back and looks at you. Tears instantly forming in his eyes and his chin trembles because he is so overwhelmed that this beautiful creature is his soulmate. It’s such a pure moment that not even his anxiety or self doubt could break through the euphoria.

“I hope those are good tears,” you half-chuckle through your own.

“The best.” He manages to choke out before reaching for your hands. “This is it, no? This is the one?” He turns you so you can look in the mirror at your reflection with the tiara on.

“I think this is it.” It’s so much more than you would have thought you wanted. It’s eye-catching and irrevocably meant to be the center of attention. But with him, you somehow don’t mind so much. As if having Javi there at your side was the piece you needed to keep you grounded and safe all along

"It is perfect." He promises, honestly believing that he will look underdressed beside you. "You are perfect." He amends with an indulgent smile before he nods. "We will take it." He announces to the sales girls. "But you need shoes underneath." His eyes light up mischievously. "What about those wedding sneakers I always see in movies?"

“Sneakers?” After all the bling and excess he’s picked out, your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Like…tennis shoes?”

He laughs at your surprise. "High heels hurt, no?" He asks. "Tiaras and tennis shoes, you could start a trend!"

The easy, joyous laugh you share is so sweet and so unrestrained that it has to be punctuated with another kiss. “Would you find it odd if I said I like high heels?” You ask after. “I’ve been wearing them for work and things for a long time and I don’t mind them too much anymore. And they always look so beautiful.”

"Then you must find the most beautiful high heels to go with your dress." He insists indulgently. "Do you have a favorite brand? Louboutin? Manolo Blahnik? Bottega Veneta?"

Ahha. There it is. You think, as he starts listing off designers you could never afford in your wildest dreams. “I just…get the most comfortable heels off the clearance rack at DSW.”

"Comfortable." He understands that but he huffs slightly. "Get whatever shoes you love best." He urges you. "The price doesn't matter."

“I wouldn’t even know where to start.” The best you can do is appeal to the two girls, and to Cindy, who has walked up to check on you in the meantime. “The only thing is…I always thought…you know how some brides wear blue shoes as their something blue? I always liked that idea.”

“Then I have the perfect pair.” Cindy gushes. “They are a pair I have lusted after forever.”

You give her your shoe size and she disappears into the shoe department to dig up her dream heel. In just a few minutes she returns to the pair of you with two boxes in hand. “They’re a little bit iconic,” she says sheepishly, opening up the top box. “These are the Carrie Bradshaw heels. Gorgeous even without the Sex and the City reference, but that sort of makes it fun in my opinion. They come in a royal blue and a light shade of sky.”

Javi recognizes the brand and he tilts his head as she opens them up. They are both gorgeous and he wonders if you will go for the bolder blue or keep it subtle under your dress. You might not even like the shoes at all.

"They're...gorgeous." The awestruck look on your face doesn't quite match your reaction to your dress, but it certainly is one that is both impressed and surprised. "Is this sort of what you had in mind?" You ask him, looking between the two shades of blue and the soft, wide brown eyes of your soulmate.

"This is deep blue, like the ocean when you look out over the cliffs." He muses as he touches on of the edge of one of the shoes. "This one..." he moves over to the light blue one. "It looks like a – a – I don't know..." He admits with a smile, looking back at you. "Which one do you like?"

"Well, when you put it like that." You touch the edge of the box holding the deeper blue shoes with your fingertips. "It has to be the ocean, doesn't it?"

“I think so, but….” He shrugs. “I don’t want you to just choose what you think I want.”

In the end, you try both pairs and decide on the lighter blue as a compliment to the inviting ivory of the dress. Star earrings are found that compliment the tiara Javi picked out, and it is all carefully packed up to be piled up in the trunk of you car and driven back to Hazelwood.

"Is there anything else you need?" You ask him when you climb back into the car together. There cant possibly be a single thing left you need, but you don't know what he could be missing aside from the suit that his friend is bringing for him.

“I think that we have everything.” He chews his lip and smiles at you. “Since it’s last minute, I asked if craft services could cater again.” He tells you, having looped the production team in on the text messages and Scott had talked to them and reported back that they had happily agreed. “It’s going to be mostly finger foods? Is that okay?”

"It could be nothing at all in a little soulmate chapel in the middle of nowhere and it would still be perfect," you promise him. "I only care that it's you."

“Then let’s go get married, sweetheart.” Javi beams as you start the car, ready to do just that.

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

TUWOP: @inept-the-magnificent @missladym1981 @sunnytuliptime @iamladyp @spishsstuff @famouslyanonymous

[alyssamariag]

The bonus prompt for Javianuary this week is “Post Cliff Jumping” 🩵

[pedge-page]

I wanna slurp his cum out of his hairy belly button .

Is that too much to ask.

[imdrinkingpedro]

This is 50.