All, is this the same costumer lady from Kingsmen? Remember when he was in the blue ski suit and she was brushing him off and he stole the brush and she just stood there good naturedly?
summary: A series of vignettes centered on your relationship with one Javi Gutierrez, who tears you apart in the most wonderful way after stumbling into your life ten minutes before you finish your shift at Blockbuster Video. chapter summary: In which Javi takes you on vacation. rating: E [spoiler-ish for TUWOMT, SMUT, vaginal fingering, oral sex fem receiving, mentions of BDSM, slight intimidation by an asshole] pairing: Javi G x f!reader word count: ~2.4k note: All right. It’s happening! Thank y'all for sticking with this. At this point, the movie is important for context, particularly with Javi’s family involved. This one’s a little longer for certain reasonssss. It might also help to be slightly familiar with the movie Secretary, but it’s not, like, required. ETA I love @starlightmornings for the beta always.
Mallorca is the most beautiful place you’ve ever been. There’s no other way to describe it—it’s incredible. Javi’s cliffside compound overlooks the clear sapphire waters of the Mediterranean sea, and every morning you’re served café con leche with a side of fruit on the balcony of your apartment. Twice a week, Javi takes you to the beach. He insists you need the vitamin D, despite how often you sit poolside.
You think, though, it’s an excuse to be with you. It’s something he can put on his schedule and have Gabriela explain away to his father as a meeting. You have yet to meet his father, and as Gabriela explained it, it’s better this way.
“He is a foul-tempered man,” she said. “I would advise you not to wander.”
You’ve started to suspect that “olives” doesn’t exactly cover everything Javi works with, but you’re a little afraid to ask now.
It’s been two months to the day since he’d swept you off on a private jet to this paradise. The warm sand glitters in the sun as you dig your toes in, fidgeting and worrying about the conversation you want to have with him. You can’t just keep living off of him, no matter how disposable his income is.
“What is it, ángel?” He asks, picking up on your nerves. The sunlight bounces off his sun-bronzed shoulders and you wonder—has anyone ever told him how absolutely god-like he is? He squints at you and smiles, shaking his curls back with his hand as he rolls to his side, propping himself up on his elbow to face you.
**
She’s been distant the last few days. Lost in her thoughts, drawing in on herself. Quiet. Unusually quiet. Overall, he’d describe her as fairly reserved, but not with him.
It’s troubling.
So he asks.
“It’s just…” She starts, staring out at the calm water. “It’s been a couple months now. And not that I’m not having an amazing time here with you…it just feels like I’m using you.”
He raises his eyebrow. “When was the last time you had a vacation before this?”
“I was eleven.”
“And the last time you took time off?”
“I’ve never taken time off.”
“Perhaps it is fine to use me, then, if I am offering,” he says. She sighs in that exasperated way of hers, and he grins.
“Javi—”
“You are my guest. You cannot use me if I am offering this to you, yes?”
That is not quite true, he knows, but he wants to give her this.
“Maybe you are bored,” he teases. “All this fun is dulling your senses. Is there anything you have found yourself wanting to do?” She lays back on the beach towel and throws her arm over her face, like she’s too embarrassed to admit it. “Tell me, ángel, or I will tickle you until you do,” he threatens, creeping toward her with wiggling fingers. She folds over into a defensive position, but it’s too late. His fingers have found the curve of her hip, and she squeaks in surprise.
“Fine! Fine, I’ll tell you!” She gasps, fighting him off. He pulls her into him as she laughs, sand flying everywhere, and he wraps his arms around her shoulders, drinking in the sigh she lets out. “I always wanted to write a screenplay.”
“Really?” He asks.
“Is that stupid?”
“Not at all.”
“Would you read it if I did?” She asks shyly. Of course he’d read it. He’d read it and he’d produce it and he’d pay all the damn actors with his father’s money if it made her light up like this. He’d be her date to the premiere, he’d threaten all the movie critics if they didn’t give her perfect reviews, he’d—
“Javi?” She asks. He’d been quiet for too long.
“Of course,” he says. She leans back with a contented sigh.
“What movie should we watch tonight?” She asks, changing the subject. He knows better than to push it.
“Face/Off?” He asks hopefully.
“What’s with you and Nic Cage lately?”
“I do not know what you mean.”
She stands and rolls her eyes, holding her hand out to him. “C’mon, goof.”
**
You’d been impressed with his home theater in Florida.
Here, though, he had an entire theater built for him as a birthday gift. If he wanted, he could have hired full-time staff, but he said it felt too extravagant.
Right. The fully functioning theater itself didn’t fall into that category.
But you love the theater, so you don’t tease him about it. The armrests on the seats come up and you can cuddle with him. And sometimes, if you’re lucky, he’ll kiss the top of your head.
He’s been cautious since you got here, and while you’ve appreciated it, you’d like for him to be a little more aggressive. There’s obviously something between the two of you. When he wraps his arm around you so tentatively, the loud thump of his sweet heart makes a lump swell in your throat.
You’d like him to kiss you again like he did before.
It’s dark as you make your way to the theater building. The only sound is the faint crashing of the waves on the rocks below you. You’re almost there when the unexpected movement from the corner of your eye startles you.
“Hola, Miss America.”
Lucas.
You’ve interacted with Lucas a couple of times, but Javi’s kept you separate from his family. At first, you’d thought it was something you’d done—like maybe you were too poor for him to want to be seen with you. But now that you’d spoken with him a few times, you’re pretty sure it’s because Lucas fucking sucks.
“Lucas,” you gasp, your hand flying over your heart. “God, you scared the hell out of me.”
He’s sitting on a bench, half-hidden in shadow, the smoke of his cigarette curling around the frosted tips of his hair. “Apologies.”
“It’s okay.” You shrug and turn back to the little stone path that leads to the theater doors.
“Miss America,” he says again, the taunting lilt in his voice growing ever more obvious. You turn around and give him a plaintive glare as he stands and makes his way to you. He’s standing much too close, staring down at you with those bright green eyes. He looks at you like you’re naked, like he can see right through you.
“Ángel?”
Javi’s voice rings through the courtyard, and you exhale. Lucas glares at his cousin.
“Shouldn’t let her wander around here like that, primo. Never know who could be out here.”
Javi’s behind you now, his big hand clasped over your shoulder. For a moment, they stare at each other, chests puffed out like fighting dogs.
“Come on,” Javi says, gently taking your hand and pulling you with him.
Only in the theater’s haven do you say, “That was fucking weird, Javi.”
“Ignore him. He is a dick.”
“Why to me?”
“He is jealous of things he cannot have.”
The statement rubs you the wrong way. “I’m not a possession.” You fold your arms. Javi turns around at the tone in your voice, rushing to your side with big, pleading brown eyes.
“Of course not, ángel. I did not mean to suggest otherwise. Come, let me make you some popcorn. I know you like mine the best.”
He’s right.
**
She’s upset. She should be.
Fucking Lucas. He’d always been so jealous of Javi—always. When they were children, after Lucas’s parents died and Javi’s family took him in, he’d wanted everything Javi had. And the younger boy was glad to share.
Perhaps it was the grief of losing his parents, or maybe he was just always rotten, but Lucas did not want to share. He wanted to take and own, even if it meant hurting his cousin. And now, despite his best intentions, she’d become one of those things that Lucas wanted.
It wouldn’t do at all.
But he wouldn’t worry her with that now.
The movie was blaring and loud and everything they needed to take her mind off of the incident in the courtyard. He raised the seat arm up and she settled against his side, still damp from her post-beach shower. She smelled like the jasmine soap he’d bought for her.
“I just don’t know how I feel about Nicolas Cage,” she says when it’s done.
“Well, what would you like to watch next, then?”
“Do you have anything with Maggie Gyllenhall? I just watched Stranger than Fiction and I really like her.”
Javi checks the library and comes up with something his cousin’s friends had ordered.
“Secretary?” He says.
“Never heard of it.”
Javi smiles. Watching something new with her is always special.
**
You should have looked the goddamn movie up beforehand.
Javi’s sitting upright next to you, completely stiff and staring at the screen like an alarmed baby deer as James Spader smacks Maggie’s ass while she’s reading a letter out loud. It’s upsettingly erotic, and you cannot stop squirming in your seat. But you’re much more concerned about the man next to you.
Not that you think he’s some innocent little virgin—you know for a fact he’s not after a drunken game of truth or dare. You also know, though, that he grew up Catholic, went to Catholic school, and got all the Catholic guilt that came with it.
“Javi?” You whisper.
“Hnngh?” Is the noise that comes out of his mouth. It’s so inelegant you almost laugh.
“Everything…okay? Do you wanna watch something else?”
He whips his head in your direction so fast you’re afraid he’s hurt himself. “Why? Why would I do that? There is no problem. I am perfectly fine with this.” He gestures wildly toward the screen, a laugh that you think was meant to be casual erupting from his throat.
“You seem a little uptight.”
“I am not uptight,” he protests, putting his arm back around you. He’s even stiffer than he was before, if that was possible. His fingers hover awkwardly near your bare skin. “I am fine.”
He relaxes, eventually, but the movie does not let up. The whole BDSM thing isn’t something you’re usually into, but overall vibe and the idea of an older man bossing you around in bed is not entirely unappealing. Especially if he uses his I-mean-business voice.
You’re all pressed against his warm chest, squeezing your thighs together for some relief. His breathing is a little shallow, and during a particularly bright scene, your eyes are drawn to the outline of his cock in his jeans.
Then you fucking whimper, because how can you not?
He hears you—of course he does—and looks into your eyes.
“Ángel?” He whispers. You blink, and his lips are finally—finally—on yours. The kiss is less cautious this time. This time his tongue demands, it does not ask, and maybe it’s the energy of the movie, but you open yourself to him, submitting to whatever he wants.
He groans at every little whine that comes from you, pulling you onto his lap again. “Is this okay?” He asks, remembering himself, and all you can do is nod vigorously. Javi holds your face in his hands, brows knit in a question. “Ángel, would you let me touch you?” He kisses your cheek. “Would you let me make you come?”
Your brain’s melting down, fuzzy from the question and how good his hands feel on you. “Please,” you murmur. “Yes.”
You climb off and he’s pulling at your panties, moving them aside and pushing your legs apart until he gets to your dripping wet core, sliding his finger up and down your lips. He spreads your slickness around, finding your clit and rubbing lazy, firm circles. The movie isn’t loud enough to drown out the squelch of you as he inserts a finger and moans.
“Thank you,” he whispers against your lips.
“You can always have me, Javi,” you breathe as he brushes a spot that leaves you gasping. He’s everywhere—kissing you, licking the hollow of your throat, shockingly skilled fingers pressing and curling into you relentlessly.
“Ángel, let me—can I taste you?” He asks, big brown eyes begging and how on Earth could you ever say no to that?
“Yes.” He drops to his knees on the floor in front of you, rucking your panties down and splaying you open. For a moment, he only looks, the movie screen lighting your glistening cunt.
“Beautiful,” he sighs. “You’re so beautiful.”
His soft praise hits deep in your heart, and you think, maybe—maybe you’re in love with him. And then his mouth is on you, hot and wet and you can’t think of anything but his tongue and the sounds he’s making into your pussy. He slides two thick fingers into you, groaning at the way you clench.
“Good girl, that’s it. Take what you need,” he says, encouraging the way you fuck down onto his fingers, the flat of his tongue lapping against your clit. He thrusts his hips against the chair, looking for any alleviation, and the movement sends a new rush of arousal through you, gushing onto his fingers and mouth.
“What do you need, ángel?”
“Just—keep—like that,” you cry, feeling the clench of your pussy around his thick fingers. You want him to fuck you, want to be full of his cock, but your first time can’t be here in this theater.
It means too much.
“Take what you need, whatever you need,” he whispers. “I love this.”
It’s the tenderness, the sincerity in his voice that sends you over the edge. You almost scream that you love him, because you do, and God, you need him to know. He sighs in front of you, murmuring praise, pulling away from you to prevent any overstimulation. You come back down from your high and he pulls his fingers from you, licking them clean.
“Perfect,” he whispers, kissing your thighs.
You reach down and softly catch his jaw with your hand, eyes heavy lidded as you smile at him. First times are always filled with apprehension—did he like it? Was it okay? Were you okay?
“Did you…was it okay?” You ask timidly.
He surges up and kisses you hard, teeth gnashing against your mouth like he needs to prove it. Your taste on his lips pulls at something inside you.
“More than,” he says, nuzzling into you. “Perfect.”
“Should we…should we continue this somewhere?” You ask, biting your lip. His enthusiastic nod fills your heart, and suddenly, everything is different.
Warnings Some flight anxiety, fluff, pining. Teeny tiny spoilers for the ending of the movie, so please be warned if you haven’t seen it yet. Not edted, all mistakes are mine. I took some minor liberties in making Javi nervous about flying, though he very much enjoys it at the same time.
Warnings Some flight anxiety, fluff, pining. Teeny tiny spoilers for the ending of the movie, so please be warned if you haven’t seen it yet. Not edted, all mistakes are mine. I took some minor liberties in making Javi nervous about flying, though he very much enjoys it at the same time.
Would you chase the sunset with a plane if you could?
For Javi Gutierrez, the answer is a simple yes. It’s always yes; he’d go to the end of the Earth to chase the beauty that is the sunset over a clear sky. The way sky is painted in the hues of red, yellow, and orange playing together, blending and separating into sections before jumping right back into one another, mixing to create something uniquely beautiful. It reminds him of the home that is in Mallorca.
Or more like the home that was in Mallorca.
The mansion is no more, the compound torn down by the cops, the investigators, the vultures looking for a golden gun so to speak. But despite this, he wouldn’t change a thing about why and how he did what he did. The Gutierrez crime family is finally extinct and he is free.
Free to fly wherever in the world he wants to, free to chase the sunset and the beauty of the sunrise the next morning.
There are no regrets about the part he played in how things fell in the end. The only regret he has is of his friend Nick Cage and his family getting caught up in it. Despite them all telling him repeatedly that there wasn’t any ill will, he’s still embarrassed that he dragged them into the fray.
Javi can feel the tinge of regret creeping up his spine again when he thinks back to what almost happened. But it didn’t, he reminds himself sternly. It didn’t and there is never any risk of it happening again, at least not in the hands of his cousin.
“Mr. Gutierrez? The plane is ready to take off,” He turns around to see you smile softly at him. You are dressed immaculately; the pilot suit pressed and fitting your body like a glove. You were born to wear the uniform, to carry the stripes with pride. The hat tucked under your arm is pulled up and you place it on your head, your grin widening a little as you wait for his acknowledgment.
A different feeling crashes through his body and Javi presses his lips tight together. For the millionth time, he reminds himself that you are his pilot, the one he places all the trust in when you are airborne, and flying it totally safe. The nervous butterflies are just that, nerves. He’s done this a hundred times with you and he has absolute fate in you navigating the skies. And it’s not like Left Behind would ever happen in real life.
“Mr. Gutierrez?” You prompt again.
“Yes. Yes! Thank you, Captain. Ready when you are,” he tries to smile back, but he can tell by the way you look at him you know he’s nervous again.
You hold out your hand and Javi catches a glimpse of the golden stripes at the sleeve of your jacket, the same golden that dances in the sky with its companions. With the backdrop of the plane and the setting sun, the amber on the sleeve is enchanting and captivating. They remind him once more that you are just as beautiful as you are capable. He never has to worry about you taking the lead.
“Would you like to sit in the cockpit with me while I do my pre-flight steps?” Your voice is tender, but not mocking. You’d never mock Javi, he knows this, even when his anxiety over flying threatens to take over. You are kind like that, kind and compassionate.
Javi nods, taking your offered hand and a third feeling rushes through him when the simple contact of skin on skin happens. How a tiny touch like this can make him feel even more nervous, but in a completely different way, he wonders as he lets you guide him towards the steps. If he is honest with himself, the nerves are not only from being in the air.
It’s being in the air with you.
Because as much as he likes to chase the sunset, seeing the beauty of the skylight and the sun, there is something Javi likes even more.
You.
His crush on you has grown day by day, flight by flight and conversation by conversation.
He’s shared his love of movies and writing and you’ve listened to him patiently, never hurrying or dismissing him. And in return you have shared your love of flying with him, often taking him to the cockpit like this, showing and speaking softly about the twists and dials and the feeling of euphoria when the plane is at flight altitude and you can see every single spec of beauty the sky has to offer. And hearing those stories, your excitement that rivals his own for movies, has made his crush grow and grow..
“Mr. Gutierrez?” You pull him out of his mind as you turn your smiling eyes towards him. The steps to the plane are right there and he feels you squeeze his hand gently, reassuringly.
“Javi, call me Javi, por favor.”
“Javi,” You nod, your smile deepening and he answers it with one of his own. “Are you ready?”
“Si. Take us up, Captain. And…” He gathers all his courage, bringing you closer by pulling on your joined hands. “And, you’ll join me for dinner later, I hope?” Your blinding smile answers his question even before you speak. You nod and Javi kisses the back of your hand softly, his brown eyes sparkling with delight.
“Perfect. We can even make it dinner and a movie. I believe the in-flight entertainment has Con Air.” The sparkling laughter carries you both up the stairs and into the cockpit, where Javi watches with adoring eyes as you prepare the final steps before you can take the beautiful and sleek machine up into the clouds.
Yes, he’d chase the sunset on a plane for eternity if it means you’ll pilot the aircraft every time.
*
(please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list any time!)
OMG not Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls coming on at work and me automatically thinking of listening to the City of Angels soundtrack with Javi and slow dancing with him, possibly feeling overwhelmed and him crying when the music swells cause he’s thinking of the film, fuck I need this in fic form.
You are a screenwriter with a terrible case of writer’s block. You need out of LA and book a secluded cottage in the middle of an orange grove in Seville, Spain. You meet a well-meaning man with kind eyes and things don’t go the way you plan.
Mi Media Naranja - Part 1 - The Grove
Pairing: Javi Gutierrez x writer!reader (female); Series will eventually be explicit
WC: 2.8k
Warning: Language, a meet-cute, Javi being his enthusiastic self, Reader going through a rough time professionally and personally. Takes place before the events of the movie, but some general themes will be explored so it’s a little spoilery.
The scent of oranges wafts through the open windows of the little house. The mornings were a little chillier than you were used to back home in Southern California, but you had been clamoring to get out of LA and get a change of scenery. You were desperate for inspiration, and the new screenplay wasn’t going to write itself. Thankfully, the freelance nature of your job afforded you the freedom to travel from time to time, depending on where the winds blew you. You have nothing keeping you in one place for too long; your family was back home in Michigan, and your boyfriend had left you months ago. Some up-and-coming actress with a gorgeous face and a forgettable name.
For now, the winds have blown you to Seville. A gorgeous location in the south of Spain and a city filled with stunning architecture.
Beautiful scenery. Beautiful dialogue. Beautiful characterization of reader and Javi. She has her walls and her pain and her self doubt and this sunshine man is going to make her accept herself as she is!
I fuckin adore the fact that he would try to repair the oven first himself because he is not “Javi owner of the estate” yet and wants to stay there for even a moment with you.
You are a screenwriter with a terrible case of writer’s block. You need out of LA and book a secluded cottage in the middle of an orange grove in Seville, Spain. You meet a well-meaning man with kind eyes and things don’t go the way you plan.
I got a little carried away because I was super excited that @studyofawearymind wrote the beginnings of a movie theatre Javi fic titled meet me in theatre 3, so here he is imagined in a little vest and saying hello!
I got a little carried away because I was super excited that @studyofawearymind wrote the beginnings of a movie theatre Javi fic titled meet me in theatre 3, so here he is imagined in a little vest and saying hello!
LOOK AT THIS SWEET AND HANDSOME MAN !!!! ❤️❤️❤️
maia - i love you i adore you thank you so much for doing this! i’m still not over it and i don’t think i ever will be tbqh. the colours you chose, the uniform, his curls, the shy little wave, and his expression !! he’s absolutely perfect
when u finally get put on an adhd med that works and suddenly u can focus enough to do realistic portraits again for the first time in 6 years ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
