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.
Tags: Demisexual reader, Slow burn, Pining, Alcohol use, Whiskey using his whip which needs a warning of its own, Some unwanted flirting (not from Whiskey), Smut of various descriptions, Hints of Dom!Whiskey, Choking kink if you squint, Come eating, Some rougher sex towards the end there, A bit of angst
Summary: You’re a bartender with a love life that’s completely DOA. Maybe this charming new regular will turn things around?
Author’s Note: Thank you to my intrepid beta @acrossthesestars for wading through the mess I made of this WIP while writing most of it on my phone Also, if you’re reading this, shoutout to the anon who sent an ask to my spicy blog about demisexuality. I see you.
You’ve never been so grateful to live above the bar as you are now.The convenience of a short commute pales in comparison to the speed with which you and Whiskey stumble up the stairs to your front door, laughing and stealing kisses as you go.
You haven’t even fitted the key in the lock before Jack wraps himself around you, his breath a warm, seductive rumble against your neck. “Gonna make you feel so good, sweet bird. You’ll be singing for me all night,” he promises.
The hair at the nape of your neck prickles and a shiver of anticipation thrums through you. His broad palm splays over your belly, drifting lower as he croons, low and rasping. “Fuck, baby, I’ve wanted you for so long.”
“You’ll be waiting longer if you keep distracting me from getting this damn key in the lock.” Your fingers are clumsy, distracted. All you want is to get inside and take this gorgeous man to your bed. With a nip to your earlobe that makes you gasp and fumble, he palms the key smoothly and opens the door with a showy flick of the wrist.
I can’t even process this my brain is not coping with how hot that was
But that bit near the end? for a hot second I thought he wasn’t coming back and I was losing my whole mind and if you were gonna end it on a sad note… Emma, respectfully, I was coming for you where you live
Thank god they worked it all out the sigh of relief was REAL
And okay real talk my soft little Demi heart is so full right now. Thank you.
Chapter Tags: Allusions to childhood trauma including abuse, mention of stalking, some angst, smut
Author’s Note: You guys this chapter nearly killed me, but we made it! This is not the end of the series but I will be pausing to work on other projects. This series simply would not exist without @keeper0fthestars and @acrossthesestars I am so happy and grateful to both of you. I love you and the rest of the “pack” so big.
Will considers you carefully. There’s a steadiness to him, his mellow presence a reassuring counterpoint to the frantic pulse beating in your ears.
“Here. They wanted me to give this to you.” His gruff voice is surprisingly gentle as he hands you a neatly folded letter. He looks like he’s about to say more, but he shakes his head and moment passes.
Will pats your shoulder once as he moves past you, an almost brotherly gesture that’s as unexpected as it is comforting. He steps carefully onto the nearby dock and sets about checking the knots where he’s moored the boat in place. You suspect the knots are perfectly fine already and that he’s just giving you a moment. Over his shoulder, you can see a parked pickup, likely a rental, pointed towards a large sign that reads Aeropuerto: 20 Kilómetros.
That month apart was painful. the loss of one other?? palpable. My heart broke for them.
Second of all I’m so insanely proud of you for creating this incredible universe and I can’t wait for these three to pick up where they left off they deserve nothing but happy
“And you’re sure they’re on board with me crashing the weekend?”
You turn to look at the man you’ve been seeing for the last several months. He smiles at you from below the worn baseball cap jammed over his dark, unruly curls, his sharp jawline visible under several days’ scruff. “Yup, just like I told you last time. They’re gonna love you, baby, don’t worry.” He grips your knee reassuringly before turning his focus back to the winding road.
His truck lurches as one tire skirts the edge of a massive pothole. You reach for the dashboard to steady yourself but he’s already adjusted. The roads leading to the beach house his squad have rented for the weekend are lined on either side with rolling grassy dunes under an endless blue sky, and the gravel crunching under the tires reminds you how far you’ve driven from the stress and grind of daily life. This is the first vacation the two of you have taken together, and it’s also the first time you’ll be meeting the men Frankie described as his old army buddies. They’re clearly important to him, and that means making a decent first impression is important to you.
“Almost there,” Frankie murmurs, his eyes trained on the road ahead. The truck crests a small rise and the rented beach house comes into view. It’s cuter than you expected, a pale, robin’s egg blue with white trim and large plate glass windows. You roll the window down and lean your head out for a better look. A salty breeze whips past your face, bringing with it the scent of drying seaweed. Gulls squawk and croon overhead and the noonday sun beats down onto burning sand.
