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JAVIER PEÑA'S SIGNATURE JEANS/STYLE pedro pascal takes a lie detector test | vanity fair 2022 
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#for science 
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PEDRO PASCAL on CJSW Radio 90.9 FM
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Oscar Isaac and Pedro Pascal + The toy versions of their fictional sons
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to remember... 🥺
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PEDRO PASCAL on CJSW 90.9 FM — @val2d2
Pedro’s Picks Playlist
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the-ginger-hedge-witch · a day ago
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The Choice (Part VII of Crush)
Pairing: Javier Peña x Fem!Reader
Summary: You weigh your decision in the light of a new day.
Rating: Explicit 18+ (By proceeding to read beyond this warning, you are agreeing that you are 18 years or older)
Content: Explicit Smut (Dirty Talk, Fingering, Multiple Orgasms, Size Kink, Innocence Kink, PinV Sex, Javier Peña), Age Gap (15 years), PTSD, Pining, Family Interference, Small Town Dynamics, Descriptions of Injury, Hurt/Comfort, References to Religion
Word Count: 9.4K
A/N: Same rules as before! I will be holding onto asks with spoilers until tomorrow night. I will also tag them with #crushspoilers.
Special thanks to @frannyzooey, @astroboots, @write-and-buried for talking me off the ledge more times than I can count, letting me brainstorm with them, and generally just being the supportive beans that they are who I adore to the ends of this earth.
And thank you, thank you, thank you to the Crush fam. For your patience, for your support, for your love of this series (and of Nat Geo), I hope this was worth the wait.
Masterlist  | Series Masterlist | Part 6 | Part 8
A baby born six years after what your parents thought would be their last child, you had come into the world in the middle of March with a cry that couldn’t be quieted fast enough and feet that barely touched the ground until you were old enough to run.
A little girl at last. Their perfect little doll crowned with pink ribbons and bows. An unplanned, unexpected blessing.
Perhaps that’s why no one ever knew quite what to do with you?
You have a manufactured image in your mind of what your brothers must have thought, three boys aged thirteen, eleven, and six, standing around a lace-gilded bassinet and wondering what all the fuss was about. 
After all, what could you even do?
A question you were unable rather than unwilling to answer, it was likely the last attention they really gave you without it being required. At least, until you were a little bit older.
Gabe was the first to try, approaching you with paper and crayons and a hopeful expression. An excuse at last to spend an afternoon drawing instead of pretending to enjoy a game of catch. He’d displayed the tools of an eight-year-old’s trade as if they were holy. Relics that could be categorized by color.
But they hadn’t made you want to be devout. Your two-year-old mind had lost interest quickly in the squiggles and shapes that led nowhere, and Gabe had eventually given up.
Eli had tried next. Perhaps sensing for once a potential captive audience, someone who would focus on him and him alone for more than the few minutes of time it always took Aarón to reclaim any lost attention. 
He’d held your small hand as you walked through uncut grass and surveyed the herd, animatedly telling you about how he wanted to change the pasture rotation schedule to give the land more time to recover between grazings. More food for the cattle, less hardship on the soil, less hardship on the family for feed costs, too, and��
You’d been about a hundred yards away before he’d realized you were gone, your three-year-old legs carrying you plenty fast enough over the uneven ground as you giggled and screamed over being chased. So much for a captive audience.
Aarón, oddly enough, had been the most adaptable. He had realized quickly during his attempts to teach you to throw after a game that what you may have lacked in hand-eye coordination, you made up for in your ability to make him look sweet as pie in front of the girls in his class. 
Not a bad gig in exchange for ice cream from the Dairy Queen, your brother’s hard earned pocket money passing into your eager four-year-old hands as you ordered soft serve so tall that it ended up on the ground as often as it ended up in your mouth. Aarón didn’t seem to mind much though, even when your cone dripped onto his shoulders as you sat high above the main street crowd with your prize. You remember him promising you that he’d still come back and take you after he went away. 
It was the first promise you remember him breaking.
Your parents had tried too, of course, tried to gently guide you with a firm hand at your back into church choir, into cooking, into just being someone who just does as they’re told and doesn’t make a fuss. But your fingers never fastened around anything else the way they had that same summer.
A bright yellow book with lots of pictures, a waterfall and a rainbow, pages and pages of words you didn’t understand but wanted to.
“What do you have there, mija?” You had jumped when Mamá Peña spoke to you, her calm voice breaking through your deep immersion. You spared her only a glance before delving back in, just long enough to take in her flour-covered apron and the way her wild curly hair was tied up with matching red ribbon.
“A book.” You had clutched it tight as if you were afraid it would be snatched away. “Can I have it?”
“Let’s find out.” She’d scooped you up out of Chucho’s chair, popped you on her hip as she walked with you through the kitchen and headed for the patio. Your mamá had looked up as you passed, her hands kneading into a pile of dough.
“Do you want to come cook with us, mija?”
You’d shaken your head, shifting enough in Mamá Peña’s hold that you could reopen your treasure, trusting that you were in safe hands as you did.
Outside your father had stood by the grill with Chucho while Aarón and Eli played a game in the distance, Gabe standing by but not joining in. However, none of them were who Mamá Peña had been looking for.
“Mijo.”
Javier had glanced up from his chair, crouched over a book that lay open in one hand. It did not appear to have any pictures like the one in your own possession, which made it even more clear which had the higher value.
“Can she have this?” His mom had asked, nodding her head in your direction.
His head had tilted enough that he could see the cover, and you’d hugged it a little closer just to be safe. He laughed, something he did far more easily back then. “Go ahead. I’ve already read that one.”
Your face had pinched, trying to understand. “The whole thing?”
“Don’t go turning her into a bookworm, Javier,” your dad had called from nearby, and Javier rolled his eyes before muttering under his breath, “God forbid.”
“She’s already up in her head too much,” your father had added before his attention switched to your brother’s game. “Aarón, don’t throw like that. You think you can get away with that kind of form on a college team?” 
He had started walking their way as Chucho shook his head and went back to the grill, and your own head had hung low as you’d stared at your book, its color seeming duller now somehow.
“It’s okay, bebe,” Mamá Peña told you, giving you a gentle squeeze before setting you down and crouching in front of you. Her warm brown eyes had peered into your tear-brimmed ones. “Nothing wrong with being a dreamer.”
You had nodded, unconvinced. Your father sure had made it seem like…
“Hey, kid,” Javier had leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that grabbed your attention. “There’s a whole bunch of those books in the cabinet in there. There’s a new one each month.”
Your eyes had gone wide, the offer of discovery smothering your dismay. “And I can have them?”
“All yours.”
****
At some point, you had started dreading daylight, had gotten too used to the sun as your own personal ticking clock, the encroaching rays their own hourglass. 
Time is up. Time to go home. Only you had never felt like that was what you were doing. 
The drive over, the slide of the window opening, and everything waiting for you on the other side…that had never felt like the thing that was wrong. It was the drive back that did.
You’ve always been a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit, except here you do. You fit with him, against him, when his body lines up with yours and your fingers intertwine with his and...you just can be. A version of yourself that feels as much yours as it is his. Is it naive to think it’s the same for him?
They’re good together.
Your heart had leapt when you’d heard those words, support and validation that you desperately want to be true. If Chucho can see it, then maybe everyone else will believe it given time. Even Javier. 
We are good together, aren’t we? You and me? This isn’t just…
You had told yourself when this started that you would take whatever time you were given, that it was already more than you ever thought you’d get. Told yourself as recently as yesterday that it was enough just for him to want you but…what about now? 
Is it just harder to hide in the light of a new day? When had you stopped telling yourself you’d be satisfied with anything and started wanting everything? Every page and line you’d locked away in your diary? 
You have a recurring fear that one day you’ll run to the window and find it locked, his light off and the night once again the place it was before. The place where you reached for someone you had never touched, ached for a memory that you’d never made. 
You had started dreading daylight…maybe because this all still feels like a dream. 
Your eyes open cautiously, not completely sure what you’ll find. The last thing you remember is curling up against him on the couch, a novel you stole from his shelves in your hands. You hadn’t made much progress with it, had been lulled instead by the steady whick of turning pages from the book Javier held in his left hand while his right arm held you tight against him. 
Now instead of the living room ceiling, you’re greeted by the sight of a slowly spinning fan with wicker blades, one you've spent enough time looking at to know immediately where you are. In his room and in his bed. So incredibly warm, so thoroughly tucked beneath a heavy blanket of heat that you’re not sure you can move, not that you need or want to.
Javi.
His familiar weight is draped across you, his head on your chest, his right shoulder and arm across your abdomen, his bandaged hand lying flat against the sheets. As if he can feel the moment your eyes land on him, he shifts slightly, nuzzling in, the soft fabric of your shirt catching beneath the stubble on his cheek. He huffs away an unconscious grunt of discomfort as he resettles, an audible indication of apparent pain due to the way he’s lying on his injured side.
You close your eyes tight again as you try not to let your mind relive it, to let the memory spoil the first morning you have like this. But despite your best efforts, a flash gets through of Javier trying to get to you, his eyes panicked and his chest heaving. Struggling not just against Gabe’s hold but against the things in his head, their hold even stronger.
What does he see? What happened that still haunts him, that makes you wonder how close he came to never coming back?
Don’t think about that. He’s okay. He’s here. He’s with you.
You angle your head so you can better see his face, those sinfully long dark lashes fanning out beneath closed eyes, his breathing steady. You don’t think you’ve seen him asleep since Austin. Even when you doze here, he always falls asleep after you and wakes up before. If he falls asleep at all, watchful of the time along with everything else. Just one more thing he tries to shoulder alone.
Your sigh is big enough to ruffle Javier’s hair, the ends growing progressively curlier the longer he puts off a cut. You slip your left arm free from beneath him, ignoring the slight sting in your palm so you can reach out to catch a few of the soft, thick strands between your fingers. As you do, you note that the small cuts on your hand look less angry now. But are you? Is anger even the right word, the right emotion? Because you’re not mad, so much as you’re…
How can you feel disappointed by something that was inevitable? 
Because it was. You had known that it was.
You had just wanted him too much to stop yourself. You had been offered your apple and bit into it without hesitation. Your choice akin to picking up an axe and swinging a crack right down the middle of your two interwoven family trees, a history and bond that began before either you or Javier had taken your first breath was now as broken as the gravel that had cut into your knees and hands, the rocks that had skidded beneath Javier’s feet as he had absorbed your brother’s blow.
You hate that Javier’s hurt, hate even more that it’s because of you. Hate what this will cost him… Chucho, too. 
Are you even worth it?
Your families have always relied on each other, especially over the upcoming weeks as both get ready for the winter season. The routine is so set that it isn’t even discussed or marked on the calendar anymore. Instead it is simply a given that your families will show up for one another, a trade of time and resources that helps support both, and the preservation of that arrangement had been one of several reasons you and Javier had decided to keep things a secret at least through the holidays. 
Had it been left up to you. Thank you very much, Aarón.
Between your dad and your brothers, your family will likely figure it out, but Chucho? He relies on that help. You know he does. And given the gossip and the scandal, you’re not sure how easily he’ll be able to find it elsewhere. Especially once your father gets going, and a decision to support Chucho also becomes one to oppose your father. You don’t know many who will want to risk that.
Chucho has always supported his son, but will he be willing to stand on the opposing side forever if everyone else refuses to accept what you are refusing to give up? How much is Javier willing to give up to keep you? 
And what if he decides it’s too much? Then what will you do?
You hadn’t anticipated any support from your family. Hell, you wouldn’t even have blamed Gabe if he’d decided to keep his hands clean. He had helped you so much and all this time...There, at least, something else good to come out of all this. He’d kept your secret and now you could keep his, support him in whatever he needed to find his own happiness. He wouldn’t be alone now, and he’d done his best to prove that neither would you regardless of how this all shakes out.
Maybe the rest of your family will surprise you, too. After all, even with how Aarón and your father had behaved, the last thing you had expected was for your mom to lay down any form of punishment. She never had before that you can remember, although you also couldn’t remember anything else quite this explosive. 
It’s also not as if her disapproval necessarily indicates support for you so much as it does her being furious about having private family business become a public affair. 
How long would she stay mad at your father and brother before things snapped back to normal? This time perhaps just without you to watch it happen, your presence packed up and tucked out of sight just like Aarón’s old trophies. Their precious doll another thing no longer suited to be displayed on the shelf.
You sniff, unspilled tears threatening to fall as anxiety claws at you. So much for trying not to think about it. 
What’s done is done, and you can’t regret choosing Javier even if you should, no matter what possible consequences cross your mind. Even if it feels like all you have now is your choice, even before you’re sure if he’s made his.
****
Fuck, everything fucking hurts.
Javier shifts again, groaning this time, a muttered curse under his breath, his sharp inhale pulling your comforting scent into his lungs. You always smell so good, especially when your smell is all tangled up with his.
The way your fingers are running through his hair tells him you’re already awake, and when he turns to look at you he lets out the breath he’d been holding. 
Your hair is in a loose braid from the day before, your smile soft, and your eyes still sleepy. He drops his head back down on your stomach, buries his face in the fabric of your shirt before pressing a kiss through the cotton. “Morning, bonita. You sleep alright?”
“Yeah.” Your voice has a slight waver to it, and his eyes go quickly back to your face. Not just sleepy, he realizes, though you’re attempting to hide it. 
He tries to brace himself up on his hands, immediately regrets it as pain shoots through his right and as his ribs throb in protest. Is more of your brother made of cement than just his fucking head?
He settles for a slow roll onto his back, his right arm ineffectively trying to drag you with him until you laugh and take up the task of arranging yourself along his side. You’re careful, barely touching him along his ribs where it’s tender though you quickly hook your leg over his and place your arm across his bare chest where it’s safe to do so. It feels good, the warmth radiating from your body and into his. 
“You want to talk about it?” he asks you, his left hand stroking your arm up and down. He knows this is harder on you than you’re letting on. He's just not sure how to help, what to give you to make up for what you’ve lost even if it’s just temporary. And it would just be temporary. He would find a way to make sure of it.
You shake your head where it rests on his shoulder. “I just want to enjoy this.” You sigh. “Although, shouldn’t we get up? Help with chores?”
Of course, of course, in spite of everything, you’re worried about what you should be doing for someone else. He places a kiss on top of your head before answering, “I was informed last night that our help was not wanted this morning. Something about me being banged up and of no use, and you needing time to settle in.”
You look up at him, your brow pinched. “When was this?”
“When Chucho got home.”
You frown, not satisfied with that answer. “Where was I?”
“Passed out next to me on the couch,” he tells you with a smile. “You seemed like you needed it.”
Your frown deepens. “Did you carry me to bed?”
He gives a short nod, and your expression colors with disapproval and concern. “Javi, you’re hurt. You shouldn’t–”
“I’m alright, baby,” he reassures you, though you don’t seem remotely convinced. “You were out, and I didn’t want to wake you.”
You give him one last look that lets him know he’s not off the hook, even as your fingers start to trace shapes on his chest and your tone lightens to mutter, “Probably because someone has been keeping me up all hours of the night.”
He knows the playfulness in your voice is for his benefit, just as the teasing in his is for yours, and he replies, “I’ll have to start getting you in bed earlier.” 
At least your smile against his skin feels genuine, his left hand slipping down your arm, drifting along the rise and fall of your curves. You relax against him for a few minutes before you tense again. 
“Are you sure we don’t need to help Chucho? Between the two of us….”
Javier sighs, not nearly exempt from the guilt himself. “He was very clear.”
His dad had come home just before dinner time, drawing up short by the front door when Javier had jerked to attention. You had barely stirred, even as he had reflexively tucked you more firmly against his side. 
“Just me,” Chucho had said, holding up a hand. “You’re alright.”
Javier had taken a deep breath and tried to believe it. “Sorry.”
His dad had shaken off his apology, pulled off his suit coat and draped it over his arm. “You heard from anyone?” he had asked, keeping his voice low so he wouldn’t disturb you.
“Just Gabe. He came by and brought some of her things.” 
Chucho had nodded approvingly. “Always been a good kid.”
“Where have you been?” Javier had worried about his dad being out in town and having to deal with the gossip, not that Chucho likely would give a shit. He has always had selective hearing. 
“Went for a drive, went to go visit your mamá,” Chucho had responded easily, even as Javier’s stomach had clenched. “Left some sunflowers for her.”
Javier’s mamá had always loved those flowers, and his dad would bring them home for her every week as long as the season lasted. Javier should have figured that he still was, something he would have known sooner if he’d gone himself. He just hadn’t been able to bring himself to since he came home. 
“How is she?” Chucho had asked, and Javier had pulled himself back to the conversation, refocused on his dad who nodded in your direction. 
“I’m not—I’m not sure.” Javier had stared down at you, your sweet face still a little red from tears. “She’s been sleeping for a while.”
“And what about you?”
Javier had shrugged. “I’m fine.”
His dad’s eyebrows had raised as he stared at Javier’s bandaged hand, where it rests against your hip.
“It’s fine,” Javier had said again. “She just insisted.”
Chucho had given him a wry grin. “Well at least there’s someone in the house now that you’ll listen to.” He had started to head for the back. “I’m going to change and go feed. I’ll be back in a bit.”
“Hang on, I’ll come—” Javier had tried to disentangle himself without waking you, no small task considering the growing soreness in his side and the way you had yourself wrapped around him.
“No, you stay where you are,” Chucho had told him, his voice firm. “Last thing she needs is to wake up on her own.”
Javier had opened his mouth to protest, feeling torn even with how much he wanted to stay with you.
“I’ll be just fine,” Chucho had said. “Have managed before, and a few more times certainly won’t kill me.” 
“A few?” Javier had questioned. Even if he knows that Chucho had supposedly done just fine without him while he’d been in Colombia, even if he feels like he slows the man down sometimes more than he helps, this was exactly what he’d been trying to avoid. He hadn’t wanted to put any more weight on Chucho’s shoulders than was already there.
“Sleep in tomorrow morning,” his dad had clarified. “You both need the rest. You can pitch back in tomorrow evening.” 
“Pop—”
“Javi, you’re all banged up,” his dad had asserted, emotion seeping in before his voice softened. “Just rest.”
Javier had studied his dad then, the determined set of his shoulders as well as the wrinkles in his face. Still larger than life, still too stubborn, but getting older all the same.
“What else did Chucho say?”
“Mm?” 
You’re looking up at him, wide eyes searching, and you huff, nerves taking over as you repeat your question. “What else did he say? Did he say anything about me being here?”
Javier reaches out to brush the hair back that has come loose from your braid. “He’s fine with it, bonita. You don’t have to worry.”
“And he’s really known this whole time?”
You’re chewing at that bottom lip like it’s done something wrong, and Javier nods softly before running his thumb across your mouth and tugging it free. “He does. I told you we talked before mass.”
“What exactly did you say when you talked to him before? What did he say? Tell me again.” 
He murmurs your name as he tries to soothe you, disliking seeing you so unsure and stressed even though he understands why you are. Everything you know has been pulled out from beneath you because of him. 
“You told me the part where he’s known since that first night and the part where I’m apparently killing his grass,” you say quickly, putting emphasis on the last part. “There was nothing else said?”
“No…he didn’t say much else.”
A lie, even if one of omission. He hadn’t told you everything, hadn’t told you what he’d said to his father about how much he needs you. Javier had decided you didn’t need that burden on top of everything else, more added pressure to stay if what you want is to go home.
“And you’re sure we don’t—”
He grasps your chin and tilts your face so he can press his lips to yours, force down the desperate edge that cuts through him at the thought of you leaving. “We can go help in a while, alright? For now, how about some coffee?”
You bite your lip again. “That sounds really good.”
As good as it sounds, it still takes him about another hour to get up and make his way to the kitchen, dragging a well-worn white T-shirt over his head as he goes, his jeans not yet fully buttoned.
He thinks he must have fallen back asleep for a bit with how drowsy he feels, too comfortable with you against him to resist.
He is saved the monumental task of actually making a pot, overwhelmed with thanks when he sees that his dad had left some in the coffee maker along with a bottle of Tylenol sitting next to it.
He ignores the pills. He’s fine, stiff and sore but once he gets moving…
The kitchen phone rings and makes him jump so bad that he misses the cup he’s pouring into and scalds the hand that was still good. 
“Fuck.” He glances at the clock. Right on schedule.
He grabs a kitchen towel off the oven as he walks over, drying his hand before he picks up the receiver and promptly hangs it back up. 
Maybe that message would be clear enough. 
Apparently not because the phone starts ringing again a few minutes later, just as he’s searching for something to bring you to eat along with your coffee. He answers this time.
“I said, ‘No.’”
“Javi?” Your mother’s voice is on the other end of the line instead of who he was expecting. 
Shit. “Yes, ma’am, sorry, I thought—never mind.” He hates how uncomfortable this immediately feels. Your mamá has always been good to him. Does she hate him now?
“Javi, I—damn it.” His eyebrows shoot up at the sound of her cursing, and he’s not ashamed to say his pulse jumps a bit when, in a tone that would’ve made his mamá proud, she adds, “I’ll have to deal with you second.” 
Before he can get a word in, she barrels on, “I don’t have a lot of time. I thought I’d try to call real quick while…” She lets out a sigh. “Is she there? I know Gabe brought her some things, and I saw—Well anyway, could I talk to her?”
“She’s here. I’ll go see.” 
“Thank you.” 
He waits a beat in case there’s more, but when he’s met with nothing but silence on the end of the line he sets the phone down on the counter and walks back to his room.
You perk up the moment you see him duck his head in but your expression changes as soon as you see his. “What is it?”
“Your mamá is on the phone,” he tells you in a low voice.
“Oh.” You stare down at your hands, fidgeting in your lap, and he’s about to cross the room and scoop you up, ask if you want him to tell her you can’t talk, but you’re already getting out of bed.
You’re still in the same shirt and leggings from yesterday as you step around him and into the hall, your bare feet padding along the carpet as you head for the kitchen. 
“You want me to give you some privacy?” he asks right before the two of you turn the corner and you shake your head and take his hand. 
You grab the phone, but before you do anything else, you lean against him, your back to his chest. He wraps his arms around you, resting his chin on top of your head and swaying gently. He sends up a silent ask that this goes okay while he wonders how mad Chucho would be if he ripped the phone from the wall in the event that it doesn’t. He probably would be fine with it. 
“I’m right here,” Javier murmurs down to you.
You nod, take a deep breath, and bring the phone to your ear. “Hi, mamá.”
****
“Mija, are you alright?” Your mother’s voice is uncharacteristically shaky, and you realize she’s trying not to cry, which of course makes you want to. You grip one of Javi’s arms a little tighter with your free hand.
“Yes, I’m okay.”
There’s a deep breath on the other end of the line. “What a mess. I’ve been doing what I can to keep your father from driving over there to drag you out of that house.”
You feel Javi tense, overhearing the words, and he hugs you to him a little tighter as he mutters something you don’t quite make out before your mamá is speaking again, her voice stern, “How long has this been going on? Please don’t lie to me again, mija.”
“Um…since about a month or so after Javi got back.”
Another sigh. “I thought so. I knew. I knew something was wrong with you. I just didn’t think—You know, when Javi’s mamá and I were little, we used to dream about our kids growing up and getting together, but we both assumed that was off the table when you didn’t come along until 15 years after Javi.”
“Surprise,” you murmur, and Javier stifles a laugh. Your mother is less amused.
“Some surprise. Mija, what are the two of you planning to do? Please tell me you’re not pre—”
“No, no, I’m not pregnant.” You feel Javier shift behind you again, his head moving so that he can press a kiss against your cheek. “We had been planning on telling people about us, mamá, but then Aarón—”
She hisses out a breath. “Yes. What a proud day.”
“I'm sorry for what happened yesterday,” you say quietly. “And I’m sorry for lying to you.”
Your mamá lets out a low hum that tells you that she’s heard you before saying, “But you’re not sorry for the rest of it are you?”
“No,” you give your answer clear and quick, and you feel Javier exhale. You tilt your head back to look up at him, his warm brown eyes meeting yours. “No, I’m not.”
“Thought so. Ayúdame Dios.” There’s a heavy pause, and when she starts again, her tone is more hurried. “I have to go, but I’ll come by later this week. I…I love you,” she tells you. “I’m sorry that–I love you, mija.”
You wonder what she was going to apologize for, wish she would have told you even as you reply, “I love you, too.”
Your hand shakes as you hang up the phone, and Javier turns you in his arms without you having to do it yourself. You bury your face in his chest, not quite crying but close.
“Bonita…” 
You look up at him, and your heart skips at the way he’s looking at you, studying you with such intensity that you’re sure he can see every thought flitting through your mind. You’d nearly told him yesterday that you loved him, and it’s on the tip of your tongue again now. But you’re still too afraid to say it, knowing that once it’s out you’ll never be able to pretend like you didn’t mean it. You’ll never be able to take it back.
It’s your last strip of armor, flimsy as it is. Your only remaining defense if he decides to walk away.
He sighs, his hand running across your cheek, thumb catching a tear that must have fallen. “What can I do?” 
You can tell me. You can tell me that I’m not just yours but that you’re also mine. Because all of this is worth it if I get to keep you. All of it is–
The sound of the sliding door opening startles you, and what is with this kitchen? It’s worse than the one at your house, and there’s only three people living here instead of six. Is there some sort of schedule that you haven’t been given yet?
Chucho frowns as he looks between the two of you. “Everything alright?” 
You immediately tamp down your frustration. This isn’t Chucho’s fault. After all, this is his house, and you’re just a guest. One that’s been sneaking in without his knowledge on top of that.
“Everything’s okay,” you answer, giving him a small smile and taking a step away from Javier and towards Chucho. Javier follows you, and you note how stiff his movements are from being so sore. He needs to take something. That could be your next task. 
“My mamá just called.”
“Mm, good,” Chucho says with a quick nod of understanding before heading for the coffee with his thermos. “She said she would.”
You glance at Javier, and he shrugs. “When?”
Chucho sets the coffee pot back and turns to lean against the kitchen counter. “Yesterday. She came to see Maria, too. Javi’s mamá got an earful yesterday between the two of us, although I’m sure she didn’t mind.”
A pang of sadness shoots through you. You wish Javi’s mamá was here. She always knew what to do. Always.
“Chucho, I’m sorry for…”
He waves a hand. “No apologies. I’m just glad Javi is letting you use the front door now instead of his window.”
“Pop,” Javier coughs, choking on his own breath, and you’re not faring much better. You had forgotten about your little comment yesterday about crawling into Javier’s room every night. Your cheeks burn.
“Oh, God, I can’t believe I said that. I–”
Chucho laughs, a rich full-bodied sound. “You didn’t have to say it. I’ve always known that’s how he was getting you in.”
“How?” Javier asks, seeming to have recovered slightly, more curious than upset. Although he does pull you back against him again for support.
How did Chucho know? Had you been killing the grass beneath the window, too?
Javier’s dad shakes his head as if it should be obvious, stares down at his coffee, and though his smile is full of mischief when he looks back up, his eyes are also full of memories. “Because, Jav, I used to sneak your mamá in the same way.”
****
There’s a memory Javier has of his parents. The one that he always seems to tap into whenever he thinks of them.
He’d been small, sitting in his father’s chair as he flipped through the pages of a book. 
It was the laugh that had caught his attention. His mamá’s soft laugh flowing out of the kitchen along with music from the radio. He can never quite remember what song it was, the melody getting lost in the sound of his parents talking. But he can remember how they’d looked. 
They’d been so young then, quite a few years younger than he is now. After all, they’d married young, right out of high school, and Javier had come along not too long after. 
That night, he can remember the way his dad had hugged his mamá from behind as she stood at the sink, shook her hands free of the soap bubbles, some still clinging to her arms as he spun her to face him. She had laughed again, that smile that would light up her whole face firmly in place. 
Then his dad had taken one step forward, his mamá one step back, and just like that, they were dancing. Moving perfectly in time with one another, right there in the middle of the kitchen. Effortless. Every spin, every dip, every step. Like they’d done it a thousand times and they probably had. 
He thinks then that’s when he realized what his parents had, even if he didn’t yet know what it meant to have it.
He looks at his father now, standing across from him in that same kitchen, only now he’s watching Javier instead of the other way around. And maybe it doesn’t matter that you and Javier aren’t dancing at all for it to still look the same. Maybe he hopes it does.
Chucho smiles softly at him before heading for the back door. “Take some Tylenol, Jav, you’re moving like you’re my age.”
****
All in all, you could not have chosen a worse battleground. A rookie mistake, just when you were starting to think that you knew better. It had just been too tempting, catching him as he stared in the mirror and contemplated shaving.
You had been trying ever since Chucho left the two of you standing in the kitchen, Javier looking like he’d had the wind knocked out of him for the second time in two days and your mind spinning over and over again on the same thought.
No wonder Chucho had been willing to support the two of you. Like father, like son.
Javi’s parents hadn’t been like your parents, not with the way they loved each other. It wasn’t that your parents didn’t. They did then and still do. But your parents have always been so busy living lives that run adjacent to one another. Your father heading one direction and your mother going the same, although not necessarily together. 
Not like Chucho and Maria. They had belonged to each other. Even as a child you’d been able to see that.
You want to know the rest of the story. You should have asked Chucho questions before he disappeared back outside. Where did you meet? How long did you keep it hidden? Did you get caught? What happened then? You want to know the rest of the story, how far history is willing to repeat. 
You had thought about asking Javier before you’d gotten too scared, before you’d told yourself that he’d know you had more than one reason for asking. Instead you had decided to distract yourself with trying to get him to take some Tylenol, let him distract you in turn with food, you had tried again then, and he’d changed his tactics. And so the next couple hours had gone, both of you stalling. In your defense, you hadn’t thought it would be quite this hard.
It’s too tight in here, too confined. There’s no space to maneuver around him or the effect he has on you, but no one can say you aren’t giving it a valiant effort.
“Javi, I’m not taking no for an answer.”
“Bonita, I’m f—”
“If you say you’re fine one more—”
Your back hits the edge of the bathroom sink as he backs you into it, arms caging you in on either side, head dipping so he can run his nose along the shell of your ear. Your breath hitches, and you hear him hum in response. “You know, I kind of like you giving me orders.”
Your eyes narrow where he can’t see. He’s so confident that he has you right where he wants you, that you’re going to be so easily swayed. Not this time. You turn your head to brush your lips across his cheek. “Yeah?”
He nods, head ducking even lower, murmuring, breathing and nipping along your neck in a way that tickles. You laugh, freeing your hands from where he’s trapped them between your chest and his, sliding them down to hook your fingers into the waistband of his jeans and pull him close.
“What else do you like, Javi?” You whisper to him, feeling his stomach muscles tense when you tug up his shirt and slip your hands underneath the soft white cotton. 
“Mm, can think of a few things…” He nudges the neck of your shirt to the side so he can press his mouth to the slope of your shoulder. 
“Me, too.” You whimper, directing the sound right into his ear, and he groans, hands settling on your hips. “Javi, will you please…” 
“Please what, bonita? What do you want?” He’s so soft and warm against you that you almost feel bad…almost. Your left hand presses into his abdomen as your right hand skates quickly up his left side, just barely touching his bruised ribs, and he hisses out a breath, jerking away before he can stop himself. 
By the time he recovers, you already have the pills in one hand and the water in the other, holding them in front of him. “I want you to take some Tylenol.” 
His jaw ticks to the side as he surveys you, and you raise your eyebrows at him as you stare back. That’s right, mi amor, I’ve got your number.
“You’re clearly in pain, Javi.” You gesture with the glass and pills again. Another attempt that seems as doomed for failure as all your previous ones.
However he surprises you by taking the pills from your hand, popping them into his mouth and swallowing. No water, of course, because why do anything the easy way?
He must see the question in your eyes, because he leans in to kiss you on your forehead before saying, “I know when I’ve been outmaneuvered.”
You smile, feeling more than a little proud of yourself, and he shakes his head at you before saying, “I’m going to go make more coffee. Do you want some?”
You normally don’t drink it this late in the day, although he seems to live on it, But you’re already feeling a bit drowsy, even if you’ve slept more in the last two days than you have in months.
“Sure,” you tell him, and he kisses you once more before he ducks out of the bathroom and heads for the kitchen. Your battle now won, you cross the hall to his room, calling after him, “I’m going to go change.”
Gabe had actually done pretty well packing. Good mix of things and only a few items that hadn’t fit you since high school. Although you suppose that’s on you for hanging onto them. You had kept meaning to go through and put together a box for donation. 
The one thing he’d definitely forgotten though was work clothes. Again not his fault as you’re pretty sure yours had all been in the laundry. Another thing you’d been meaning to do before damn Aarón had opened his damn mouth. 
“Pendejo, bet you don’t like looking in the mirror as much today.”
You run through your bag one last time to double-check before you glance at Javier’s dresser. Is it too presumptuous to steal a shirt of his? Apart from the one you already had taken to sleep in? Your eyes shift to his closet, and from where you stand, you can see a chambray button-up hanging that you’ve seen him wear to work in before. 
You don’t think he would mind, nor do you think he’d be bothered if you were to put some things away. You had already left some of your toiletries in the bathroom after you’d gotten up to use it shortly after Javier went in search of caffeine this morning, smiling at the sound of your toothbrush clinking into the ceramic holder next to his. 
He’d already made space in his room for you to keep some of your things here even before this so…
Yes, no, you can. You can unpack. Right?
****
He should have made two trips. It had been sheer stubbornness that he hadn’t. Maybe the Tylenol had been a good idea.
His right hand throbs as he carries his cup of coffee with no small amount of difficulty, yours safely in his uninjured left. He’s annoyed with himself that his hand hurts as much as it does. He knows how to throw a punch for fuck’s sake, had been taught how to hurt his opponent more than himself. But he hadn’t been thinking of proper form when he’d done it. He’d barely been thinking at all. 
He nudges his bedroom door open with his shoulder when he reaches it, grateful that it had been left cracked open the tiniest amount. After he steps in and sees you, he’s even more grateful that he somehow manages to kick it back shut the full way.
Fuck.
All the blood in his brain has just gone straight to his cock at the sight of you…putting away your things in his dresser…while wearing his shirt.
You look over at him when you hear the door close, and immediately fluster, although he can’t be sure if it’s because of what you are doing or him.
“Sorry, I just thought…is it okay if I put my things in here?” you ask, gesturing towards the dresser drawers. “You have room, I think.”
He half scalds his fucking hand again as he sets the coffees on the bedside table, but he barely notices as he moves towards you. Your eyes heat and you take an unconscious half step toward him as he gets closer.
Once he’s in front of you, he reaches out with his left hand and fingers the hem of his shirt where it hits just at your mid-thigh, a still bare mid-thigh which is making him want to lose what’s left of his mind. 
“And I, um…” You swallow, drawing his attention to your throat and the mark he’d left there the day before. “I borrowed one of your shirts to work outside. I don’t have any in my bag, and it's a bit big. I mean, of course, it is, but I was just getting ready in case–”
His mouth fuses to yours, cutting off whatever else you were going to say. Whatever it is, the answer is yes. You can have his whole closet and everything in it for all he cares. He’s convinced it will all look better on you anyway.
You kiss him back just as urgently, opening for him so he can take and take. But it’s as if he can’t get close enough fast enough, his right hand holding your jaw and his left supporting your lower back as he pushes into you and you bend. Your hands scramble for purchase to keep yourself from falling, bunching in the cotton fabric of his shirt. 
As he starts backing you towards the bed, your steps don’t quite match his. You’re too unsteady from the way he’s leaning into you, the way you’re still favoring your ankle, and the way you are trying to blindly judge how far you need to step to avoid the suitcase open on the floor. 
He’s trying to compensate for your lack of solid footing with his own, but he gets greedy trying to chase your mouth with his when you break his kiss, whimpering when his left hand slips lower and firmly cups the swell of your ass, pulling you against him so you can feel him. 
The final blow is when he gets tripped up on the same suitcase you had managed to avoid, his injured side giving a shout of protest when he tries to correct his own balance as well as yours.
Rather than fight the momentum and risk you getting hurt, he instead does his best to reverse your positions mid-fall. He grunts as his back connects with the floor, the carpet doing little to soften the impact, especially when you land on top of him. Unharmed, your hands immediately cup his face as you look down at him with concern. “Fuck, Javi, are you okay?”
He doesn’t answer, already too busy dragging your mouth back to his with a hand in the collar of your—his shirt. You're like a fever in his blood. How does it always pull him under so fast? How does he keep wanting you so much?
You wriggle lower, the cloth between your legs brushing along his stomach so that he’s now absolutely sure it’s just his shirt and your underwear you have on. 
Fuck, he just needs to see. “Unbutton that shirt, bonita, let me see.”
You’re still getting yourself situated, afraid to hurt him as you move down his torso. His hands find the tops of your thighs and push, moving you until you’re right where he wants you except fuck–Christ, he can’t even think straight.
“Lift up for a minute, baby,” he tells you, and you obey immediately. But before he can get to the button of his jeans, your hands are already there. “Good girl.”
He helps you drag them down, his side aching as he reaches. He knows exactly the thing he wants to dull the pain. He lies back once more as soon as his cock is free, listening as you whine at the sight of him. Fuck, you’re always just as hungry for him as he is for you. 
“You want it?”
You nod, and start to grind against him, a slow swivel of your hips that drives him even further towards the edge.
He captures your right hand from where it’s pressing against his chest, brings it to his mouth, sucking on your fingers and getting them nice and wet with his tongue. Your eyes drift half closed, your breath coming in pants as you watch him do it. 
He bites them lightly before pulling them free and guiding them back towards you. “Touch yourself, bonita, need you to help get yourself ready for me.” 
He leans up again, bracing himself up on his left hand as his right tugs your panties to the side. Your fingers are already moving against your clit as he slips one of his inside. You’re already so wet, clenching around his finger, and he doesn’t even care about the way his hand throbs at being put to use because he’s already feeling how perfect and tight you’re going to be once he’s inside.
He slides another finger inside as your head falls back, your hips still rocking against him, his cock sliding between your thighs. He can’t stop watching you, watching the way you want him. 
He increases the tempo as he opens you up on his fingers, telling you again, “Unbutton that shirt, bonita, I need to see.”
You moan. Your left hand shaking as you try to concentrate on undoing the shirt even as you’re getting closer to coming apart. He loses his ability to wait just before you reach the last button, his hand pulling out of you so he can grab the edge of the shirt and yank it open the rest of the way. He’s dimly aware of the sound of a button richoteing against the wall as he does. 
Now, he can see. See the way his shirt frames you, the way you are cupped by that simple white material, cotton fabric that he tugs down so that it pushes your breasts up, and–Fuck, yes, now he can see.
“Javi, please,” you whine, and you do look truly desperate at being left empty, your hands moving to grip his shoulders.
“I know, baby, I know.” His right hand goes back between your legs, dragging the head of his cock through your slick folds until you’re fidgeting and practically begging with the way you’re moving for him to line himself up. As soon as he does, you start to sink down, the stretch making you groan.
“There’s my girl, just can’t even wait to take me.” He bucks his hips up into you, unable to stop himself from doing it when he feels you around him, just as he can’t hide the corresponding wince at the pain radiating from his side.
You see it, slide your hands back down to his chest and push gently. “Lie back, Javi.”
He resists and you lean forward, kissing him into a fucking stupor while you grind down the rest of the way onto his cock. He moans, buried to the hilt inside you and lost in the taste of you as you start to move. 
“Let me take care of you,” you murmur into his mouth. “Lie back.”
This time he does, watching as you pull the shirt open wider. Your hips start to roll harder against him, the fingers of your right hand slipping between your lips, and knowing you’re tasting yourself on them makes him fucking ache to do the same.
Later, he’s going to get you back on the bed and spend hours between your thighs.
It must be written on his face, the things he’s thinking, because you smile at him as you pull your fingers from your mouth, drag them down your bottom lip, trail them down the valley between your breasts, down your stomach, and back to your clit. You shiver when you start to move your fingers over it, around it, and he feels every tremor.
“Fuck, bonita…” The rest of his words choke off on a groan as you pick up your pace, your free hand moving to your breasts, palming each one as your head tips back and to the side. And he swears you mean to do it, swears you mean to show off that damn mark he left on your neck. 
I’m yours.
You had told him you were right before he’d done it, and it’s a statement that’s increasingly hard for him to argue with. Not just right now when you’re fucking him like you were made just for him, but also when you’re doing any other fucking thing he can think of. He wants you as his, he always wants you as his. He doesn’t know anymore how to let you go.
He leans up again, and he doesn’t care if his ribs fucking break from the effort because he needs this, needs you. His right hand sweeps up your back, his left burying itself in your hair so he can pull your head back and so he can have your mouth on his.
“Say it. Say it again,” he mutters when he breaks away for a breath. You look at him with confusion in your eyes, too lost in it to guess his meaning. “Say you’re mine.”
Your eyes widen as you nod. “I’m yours, Javi. I’m yours.” 
He kisses you again as the words rush through his head, his chest aching and your rhythm starting to falter as you approach your peak. He wants to come with you, and he’s not going to last much longer.
“Say it back.” You’re asking more than telling him, and he leans back just enough that he can meet your eyes again. The vulnerability there is enough to break him, because you’re asking like you’re afraid he’ll say no. Like you don’t know. Your forehead presses into his, your hands coming to rest against his chest. “Please. Say you’re mine, too.”
Of course, he’s yours. Whatever’s left of him is all yours. How could you not know? He has been since the moment he opened the door and saw you standing on his porch months ago. He didn’t even know who you were, but even then, some part of him knew that he was yours. And that won’t change. Even if you change your mind. He knows it won’t change his.
“I’m yours, bonita. I’m yours.”
Your smile is blinding, flickering only when your orgasm starts to take hold again and your mouth falls open on a moan of his name. He says it again and again into your ear until you break, and he doesn’t even try to stop himself from going with you. 
He comes, filling you up as he keep filling your ears with praise and reassurance. And he uses the last of his strength to flip you beneath him, staying inside as he holds himself on his elbows over you, your soft body beneath his. 
He’s determined to stay like this until he can get you to the bed and go again, his claim on you as deep inside as yours is on him. His. His girl.
“Will you tell me again?” you ask him, your voice soft as your hands frame his face. You always ask him for so little, and he always wants to give you so much more. Why should this be different?
“I’m yours.”
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azertyrobaz · a day ago
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Disney Gallery - The Mandalorian Season 2 - Chapter 15, “The Believer”
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pedrohub · 2 days ago
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Pedro Pascal for GQ Spain (September 2017)
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themarshalstale · a day ago
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"Come with me."
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heatherbelart · a day ago
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Be Grateful
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No 𝘺𝘰𝘶 paint Pedro Pascal too much 😂
I have about 15 different subjects waiting in my art queue, but then I saw this image from the Talk Easy podcast and couldn’t help myself. What a breathtaking smile!
Painted on procreate in mixed media.
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anaaaispunk · 2 days ago
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Thirst Tweets | Marcus Moreno x F!Reader
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Synopsis: Being the go-to who runs the Heroics social media account means that you always have to think of new ideas. Buzzfeed just so happened to have started 'reading thirst tweets,' but you're about to put your own spin on it.
Warnings: Excessive use of Daddy, Twitter, Language, Dom!MM, Choking, Semi Sex Scene, PiV Sex, Unprotected Sex, Language, Sex Tape,
Rating: E
Author's Note: This was one of those ideas that really crossed my mind and left in a blink - but it must have made an impression considering how long this is lol.
Word Count: 4.8K
-----
Who thought running social media was a good idea of a job? Who would have anticipated that centuries down the line, everyone would be constantly on their phones, scrolling and seeing anything in a few simple seconds. It's funny how it works in all honesty - social media was originally created to connect and form friendships whether you were a foot apart, or ten thousand. Instead it is used as a venomous pit of despair that truly can suck the life out of you. But like anything else, there are small neck of the woods that are truly wholesome; Untouchable. To find that perfect balance is a feat in itself, but the payout at the end is worth it. Some of the best people and friends can, and will come out of experiences like this. Through the trauma, the breaks, everything in between, things tend to be okay. Sure social media is still a scorpions den but, it has its moments of sincerity. Although, being the one to run that den can be a challenge.
When you graduate from college with your degree in marketing - you never imagined social media manager would be on your resume. You'd rather be the one promoting a brand to success, over being the one on damage control. If grown adults could not act civil even in a virtual setting then, they needed to be managed - at least that was your boss' mentality on it all. Only six months, you remember telling yourself, then I will be working with the tops marketing execs in New York. That was the dream, work with those who have a passion for top brands and try to find the most creative ways to put a product out there. Since you were a small child that was always a dream of yours. Maybe working for a big sports team, or even a world renowned company - either way you wanted to be in the big leagues! You wanted that extra little oomph that came with it all; The excitement and thrill. I mean, you were getting that now but, to what extent? You always berated yourself to be thankful for this given situation but - it wasn't what you were meant to do.
Getting that initial call from the higher ups at the Heroics compound was exciting; Thrilling even. You knew all about the heroics and what came to be with them - but you never assumed you'd be the best fit. It was a spur of the moment, dropping your resume into their mailbox like it was nothing and moving on. If only you knew what it would have initially meant. It was so vivid with how you remembered it being - you were sitting on your couch, scrolling through your emails from potential employers when a single word came through text. Tomorrow. You didn't hesitate to block the number and keep it as is, trying not to think about it. But still in the back of your head you couldn't stop - what did it mean? Before you could unblock the last number, a new one came through easily than the last - this time a bit longer. It detailed an exact location of where to meet, what to wear, and what time you should be there. The fact that they had one of your specific outfits down to a T was insane; Creepy and a bit too much but, it could be an adventure. Oh it was indeed, there was no way you'd be leaving this now.
Nine months later, you were in the position of monitoring, and running ALL Heroics social media - every hero, every faction, everything. Truly you never realized how much damage could be caused, even with grown men and women. Social media was their playground almost - bullies and trolls happened. Sometimes you did let it slide, especially when it came to people trolling the heroics kids. No one messes with those bundles of joy - even if they can be a bit much. You had to admit deep down, things were good - a position of complete power you were put in, but it didn't stop the fact that you wanted more. You could see Miracle Guy fucking up an incel over and over again, but it was growing tiresome. If the heroics wanted to have a good, solid fanbase following then, you needed to work your magic. Having that platform that you do - it worked to your advantage. Especially on Twitter. That was a cesspool in itself but, it was a great starting point. You had real potential.
Who would've thought that a bunch of heroics biggest adult fans were so willing to shell out an arm and a leg for private access to all things heroics. Discords, exclusive meet and greet passes, winning tours of HQ and even having dinner with a hero themselves! All in the good name of charity. You had to admit your marketing was top notch, collectively over the first ninety days you brought in close to $8 million, 400,000 people all paying $20 for permanent access to these giveaways, chats and so much more! Mrs. Granada was over the moon about it, so happy that those who have lost their homes, their families, their own sanity were going to be compensated wonderfully - the remaining $4 million would be put into food banks, shelters, and centers across the country. Every hero was so proud to know you were working with them, and not for them. Hell, they would be glad to take all orders from you, and not Mrs. Granada. At least you had a softer touch. You were giving the heroics this platform to do good - and to weed out those who intentions were elsewhere. But, it wasn't enough.
The leader after all, would not participate in such activities. It wasn't due to a lack of interest, but more along the lines of being equally shy. Marcus Moreno was more than a hero, he was a devoted, and loving father to Missy. He did not see the appeal of him being active, or putting content out for all to see, when he could be saving the world. It may have just been the generational difference of not understanding, nor caring to understand social media. Either way, he had been vocal from the start. No matter how many videos, tweets or even pictures you tried to get him in, Marcus wasn't having it. Glossy brown doe eyes would always shine so bright at you, as if to silently surrender. He was too kind - too sweet, you never wanted to make him uncomfortable. You knew the reason you didn't push so much was because of how you harbored a crush; How could you not when Marcus Moreno is a walking daydream? Of course, lack of participation did not let the fans down, no, they understood. Even if they caught small glimpses through paparazzi photos, they were set.
It did give you an idea though, an idea so far out of your league it may actually work. The best thing about marketing, was creating outlandish ideas and executing them with detailed precision. If there was something everyone loved, and always could make the best memes out of - it was Thirst Tweets. Yes, it may be a bit extreme, and it may be a bit out there but - that is what the viewers want. They want their faves to acknowledge their horny thoughts, their ultimate fantasies behind a random photo. Hell, some people would go as far to make t-shirt, pins, keychains, even necklaces with these heroes - thirst tweets wasn't so out there at all. You would never force it upon someone to participate in something like this, the last thing you'd want is to make them uncomfortable. There were a lot of layers to unpack with it; How far is too far? Will they walk out mid-shoot? Would they lash out and roast the viewers on camera? There was no saying how it would go. Before this could get underway, you needed to do a deep dive.
Hiding such a huge project like this from the Heroics was tough in itself, but having the leader catch wind was so much worse. You had thought you had been better about keeping this hush-hush, not telling a single soul about what you had planned. But like all things, some do find out. The first was Tech-No, reading your journal over your shoulder as to what you had planned. Then, he loudly asked the room; "Does anyone know what thirst tweets means?" The horrified look on your face spoke measures as he stood down, giving you a sorry smile then walking away. You felt your cheeks heat with embarrassment as the entire cafeteria stared at you. There was one set of eyes that burned into the back of your head though as you stood, making your whole body shudder. You knew exactly who it was, you knew who was staring you down - but decided against turning around. You, wanted to have the upper-hand. Before you could exit the room, a warm hand grabbed your elbow gently in order to spin you, causing you to look into his mocha eyes behind his black rimmed glasses, gently speaking lowly; "I'll do the video."
That is how you found yourself sitting in Marcus' office with a nice purple backdrop. A container with the thirstiest of tweets you could find, waiting for him to start the video. Deep down you were excited to see how he handled it, but also really excited to hear him say key words out loud. This all had to be a dream, there was no way this happened to be your life. Standing behind your camera, you fixed the focus and zoom quickly - making sure you could see all, as could the viewers. When you would go back and edit it later in post, it would make it easier. Marcus looked surprisingly calm; You never saw him with such a light demeanor, it was always skittish, pointed even. Marcus had a lot of stressors in his life, between keeping the city and his daughter safe, he thought this would be the best way to keep the edge off. Plus, it meant he got to spend more time with you - that was the goal after all. "Are you sure you want to do this, Marcus?" You asked softly, looking at him through the viewfinder rather than ahead.
His observant eyes met yours through the lens, nodding as he shyly looked down at the container, drumming his fingers against it. The rattling struck your ears like a fine melody, putting you slowly at ease from the world ahead. It felt nice in a way to have your worries eased with Marcus' drumming, small hums slipping through his lips. You gathered Marcus' attention fairly quick when you raised your hand, wiggling your fingers to show him you were about to start recording. "Start off by introducing yourself, and saying what you are here to do today." The confidence in your voice always came out when you were in the zone; The place you felt most confident was in your field. As soon as you pointed to Marcus, it was like a light went off in him. One second there was shy, timid Marcus. The next? Confident, and light with a hearty smile on his lips. It made your heart stutter for a moment as you watched him get into his element, being happy and serene even with the nature of the video.
Minutes kept passing as Marcus kept reading, giving some of the best commentary you have ever heard with one of these videos. Sometimes he would agree with the tweets, other times he would look so horrified. But at the end it was all in good fun, which made him smile more. It was surprising to you as well to hear some of these; In order to be surprised you decided to let your assistant cut the strips up, shove them into a can and hope for the best. It was the best decision you made because, there were some charmers in there. Each paper that passed over the top of his desk was neatly stacked, leaving only a handful in there for him. But the next one he pulled out, made your eyes widen, not expecting someone to be so vocal about calling him this; "Marcus Moreno, you are daddy as fuck." Your eyes shot wide open at hearing himself say daddy, knowing the fans were going to lose their fucking minds! You tried to ignore how Marcus was looking at you through the viewfinder, hoping that he would read off the next one and move on. But as he sat and stared, you felt your heart quicken.
"What does this mean?" Marcus asked with a curious tinge in his tone, cocking his head at you. At first you didn't respond, thinking he was just talking to the audience. But when he spoke your name, it felt different; Electric. "Is it like I act as a father, care-giver, or?" There was something about Marcus' puppy dog eyes that made you want to scream, to hold him, to love him. He looked so innocent and naïve to it all, which made him even cuter. You wanted to come right out and tell him what it meant but, knew it would be certain danger if you did. Instead you tucked it deep, deep down into your soul and hope he did not ask again. But this time, he spoke your name in such a low octave it made your thighs quiver. Inhaling a deep breath, you tried to ease you nerves as to what was going to happen after you spoke such damning news; "I mean, you're close but-" you stopped yourself, trying to find the best way possible to describe what the phrase meant.
Marcus was patient, trying to see if he could catch small bits and pieces strictly off of your tone but, the inflection was not giving away a thing. "Do you mind telling me? I'm sorry, I am not too familiar with the phrase." He was so innocent, so sheltered against the possible meaning. It made him even cuter when he would try to piece it together. Exhaling a deep sigh, you nod as you step around the back of the camera. Coming into full view, you noticed how Marcus eyed you up and down, taking in the gentle swoosh of your dress, all thanks to the AC unit behind you. In this moment you tried not to think about it too much, instead playing it off as your imagination getting the best of you. "It's means..." you began, once again trying to find the best way to describe exactly how it was meant. It was easier to say the phrase as its own definition but, for those who are not familiar - it would not going over well. "Shit, Marcus it means that you're daddy as fuck. Dominant, strict, in control."
The way you had said it back to him, made his eyes shift to a darker shade of brown. His lips were pulled into a straight line, eyes narrowing in the slightest. It made a tingle slide down your spine. The way Marcus' eyes looked at you as you said it, mixed with him licking his bottom lip so slowly, you felt as if at any moment you were going to lose your cool and jump his bones. There was no denying how you felt about Marcus, this crush you harbored only growing stronger with this interview. But to see him slip almost into a daddy state of mind, was driving you bonkers. Marcus nodded softly at your words, glancing back down at the tweet on the paper. He was trying to pick the best way to describe what he was feeling, or how to express his gratitude for such a phrase. His thick fingers twirled the piece of paper; You wished you could dive right into his brain and see what he was thinking - knowing it was going to either be very good, or very bad.
"Is that why people thirst over me? Because they want to sleep with me?" Marcus let out easily, curious. His doe-eyes made your heart melt as you softly smiled, agreeing with what he was saying. The phrase was really only used when people wanted to describe the perfect mix of dominance and softness within the bedroom. Marcus could definitely have a darker side no one knew about, and that made it all the better. The way Marcus had said his questions shouldn't have made your body run so hot - it was wonderous. Something about seeing him in this light was driving you mad; Was it the blacked out eyes? Could it have happened to be that he knew people wanted him? Or was it the fact that your massive crush let you see him in a different light? It was odd nonetheless but, you wouldn't have traded it in for the world. "That is exactly right-" you began, smiling widely at Marcus, but came up short at the realization of his words - how he knew what thirsty meant, but didn't know what daddy as fuck meant.
"Wait! How do you know what thirsting is but daddy slipped your mind?" You asked sincerely, watching Marcus as he twiddles with the paper. Pulling and curling the edges of the single sliver, his eyes turned upwards to meet yours, causing him to lean forth over the table. A small, sincere smile flashed across his lip - teeth glittering in the LED overhead lights. The space between you two was getting smaller by the minute, but you didn't mind. His woodsy cologne spiraled inside of your nostrils, drawing you closer to Marcus by instinct. Popping out from behind the camera, you crossed your arms over your chest, trying to see exactly what Marcus was up to. "It didn't, I just wanted to hear you say it," He began, smiling carelessly as he eyes wandered across your body, "It is your tweet after all, isn't it?" His eyes gleamed with lust, righteousness, and power. He knew it all along; This was incentive for him to be close to you.
Your eyes widened in horror at the revelation, frozen in your place. Marcus stood from behind his desk as he held the paper outwards, waving it for you to barely see. Moving forth you grabbed the small clipping from his hand, unrolling it to see if it truly was your tweet. Just seeing the first four letters of your username, mixed in with your title, you were fucked. Why did you have no recollection of sending this out? Looking at the date on the paper you noticed how it was posted late into the night after your birthday a few months prior, knowing how shitfaced you were - your sober thoughts started to slip through. The horror on your face only caused Marcus to marvel at you, taking in your beauty and all that you are worth; He could see himself falling for you. Without daring to stare at Marcus, you plopped down into the chair right in front of his desk, trying to keep your panic at bay whilst staring down at the paper. You never gave yourself a chance to peer up and see what Marcus was doing, not caring now that he knew what you thought of him.
Through your internal debate with yourself, Marcus slung himself around his desk and rounded the corner to meet you. As soon as he was standing flush to your back, Marcus placed both of his strong, power-wielding hands onto your shoulder, slowly rubbing into your skin as he could feel the tension radiating off of you. In a way you were amazed at how you could've let this happen, how you could've let this slip through the cracks. What made no sense to you was how your tweets were set to private - meaning no one should have been able to see this; Was it your assistant who did it?
Marcus dug his fingers into the meat of your shoulders, massaging your silk-like flesh as you sunk into your seat. The pressure felt so good, so real when Marcus did it. You were too lost in the pleasure of him rubbing your tense shoulders that you had no idea what Marcus was about to do. Removing one of his strong hands from your shoulder, he started to snake it towards the back of your neck, letting his calloused fingers slide against your supple skin. It felt gorgeous, breathtaking in a way. But quickly you changed your demeanor when he grabbed a handful of your hair from the scalp, tugging softly backwards so you met his eyes. Looking up, you saw the devilish grin on his lips, the dangerous glimmer in his eyes; It soaked your panties to the core. "What's the matter, got nothing to say now that you're caught?" Marcus winked as you gripped the arms of the chair, whimpering at the slight tang of pain in your scalp. You had to admit, the dominance he had over you was delicious.
"You suck," the teasing words flew out of your mouth so easily, causing you to put your tongue out at him. Seeing a peek of the pink flesh, wet and glistening, Marcus was about to lose it. To keep his composure straight, Marcus gave himself a little taste by running his other hand along the base of your throat, swirling his fingers steadily against your skin. "And according to your feed, you like to swallow. Isn't that right, dear?" Marcus retorted, cocking his head to the side to get a better glimpse of your helpless position. Each time he would run his finger across your throat, you felt goosebumps slide across your skin, a fresh wave of slick falling onto your panties. You were wet enough to drown a person, it made you feel sexy. There was no way in hell you were going to let Marcus have the upper hand on this one - no - you were going to make him work for it. Giving your best look at innocent, yet lustful eyes, you smiled softly up at him; "You trying to find out, Moreno?"
Your quip made Marcus feel weak in the knees, his eyes slightly rolling back to acclimate to your words. A soft groan slipped from his parted lips as he gave your glowing face a full stare, wanting nothing more than to become one with your body. "More than fucking ever." Marcus had no idea where that came from, but all he knew was that it made you weak, and that is what he loved the absolute most. At the same moment the two of you glance at one another's lips, as if to silently convey what you two wanted to happen. The hand tracing your throat turned into a firm grip around your pulse point, making your head throb. The weak little gasp you managed to slip out was muffled almost instantly as Marcus planted his lips on yours, groaning into your own mouth as he let his tongue slip in. It was rough, dirty - and oh so sexy. Teeth clashed with teeth, saliva swirled against one another. You were so dumb already due to Marcus' touches and his lips, you could not control anything else you were about to do.
Gripping onto the back of Marcus' neck, you skated your nails roughly against his skin - feeling his growl against your mouth with fervor. At this angle it didn't give the two of you enough of one another. So Marcus used his telekinesis to spin your chair, causing you to gasp. You had always seen Marcus use his powers on the news, but never were you able to see it up close and personal. Having him use it on you was so fucking hot - so sexy to where you couldn't breath. You laned forth to latch his lips against yours, dragging him down to the chair with you - but Marcus had other plans. Gripping your wrists during the power-driven kiss, Marcus pulled you to your feet and pushed you against his desk, pushing off all materials and papers so you had a clear place to lay. Your ass hit the oak with a thud, taking the breath out of you; Marcus used it as leverage.
You were so intoxicated by Marcus and his lustful ways that you instinctively opened your legs for him, letting your panties shine with your own wetness for him to see. Silently you thanked yourself for wearing such an accessible dress today, making his ravishment easier to bear. "You're fucking gorgeous," Marcus groaned as he slid his fingers up the inside of your thighs, pushing against your muscle as he slid upwards. The way he was handling you made you feel sexy, it made you dripping wet - the roughness yet a slight soft tinge drove you absolutely mad. Feeling yourself reeling from his touches and kisses, you slid your hand between your thighs to pull your panties to the side, letting your slick folds catch the light ever so slightly. Marcus pulled back to see your precarious positioning, growling out at the strain of his cock. There was no way he was going to be able to wait for you - he needed to act quickly. Marcus roughly pulled at his black jeans to remove his belt, letting his purple briefs catch your gaze. Before you could focus on the color, Marcus' erect cock slipped through the zipper flap, showing him in his swollen glory.
Instinctively you wrapped your hand around his thick length, giving him a few quick pumps before guiding his tip towards your sopping entrance. The precum slickened his tip enough for him to push the head forth, letting your tight entrance suck on the head of his cock. Marcus could not contain his hearty moan at how you were squeezing him, pulling him deeper enough to make you wetter. The delicious stretch he was providing you was amazing - a mix of both pleasure and pain, your wetness aiding to not make it so uncomfortable. Inch by inch Marcus slowly sunk into you, causing you to bite your bottom lip up at him, closing your legs around his hips. Marcus gave a quick little thrust to sheath the rest of his cock within your body, causing your eyes to cross at the good feeling. You both knew you were short on time; Anyone could come in and see what was going on - but the two of you were going to make it worth it.
"Good fucking good, always so good for daddy - aren't you?" Marcus whispered into your ear as he started to move his hips at a steady pace, causing your whole body to shutter with pleasure. Tossing your head back between your shoulder blades, you let this man ravish you from the inside, his cock scrubbing beautifully against the sweetened spot. It made you see stars at how good he was, how he managed to manipulate your pleasure with his own in order to make you wetter - whether that was tweaking your clothed nipples or pulling at your swollen clit. No matter what this man did, you were on board. He could move your body in ways not even you could imagine, for that you were grateful. "Baby, if you don't want others to find these tweets - you may want to think about privacy settings." Marcus quipped as he sped his hips up within you, causing your eyes to cross from pure pleasure. His lips found your neck as you soaked in his words, causing your smile to be dazed. "Duly noted, sir," you moaned, pulling his hair back to find his lips, gluing them to yours in a passionate kiss.
Whoever said thirst tweets would get you nowhere obviously had no idea what they are talking about. It led you to fuck the head of the Heroics - you would count this as success.
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bestintheparsec · a day ago
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#for science 
bonus:
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pedropascalito · a day ago
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K is for Kisses (Sultry)
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forever-rogue · 2 days ago
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As We Go
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AN | Here she is, finally! I really liked writing this, so I hope you all enjoy ❤️
Summary | A love story as old as time told in three parts: beginning, present, and resolution.
Pairing | Javier x Fem!Reader 
Warnings | Language, mentions of sex, pregnancy/childbirth
Word Count | 8.8k
Masterlist | Main, Javier
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Your marriage to him had been impulsive, you were well aware of that. You would have been the first person, besides him, to admit that. But that didn’t mean you regretted a moment of it. Your time with him had been fun, wild, and he made you feel like no one else ever had before. You’d been deeply, madly, crazily in love with him and you still harbored a lot of love for him now. He’d given you so much, including the single best thing in your life - Diego. The son you shared with him and you both loved more than anything else in the world. If he was anything, he was an amazing father and while the two of you were no longer together, you wouldn’t have picked anyone else to have a child with. 
But just because you were divorced didn’t mean those old feelings were all gone…
In the beginning
“We should really stop meeting like this,” you rolled your eyes at Javier, watching as he locked the storeroom’s door behind him. He leaned against the door, arms crossed over his broad chest as before you gave in and flitted over to him, “mi chiquita bonita.”
“If you want to stop meeting like this, why don’t you come over later?” his hands had found your waist as you leaned in, brushing your nose against his, “because we’re not having sex in here again. You almost knocked over half the cabinets last time, cielito.”
“Come on,” he kissed you before you could argue, the taste of the sweet pastry he’d had in place of a proper lunch clinging to his lips. He easily swallowed your moan as you tried not to give into him and let him have the upper hand, “we’ll be quick, baby. I can take my time with you later…”
“Javier,” yeah. You were ready to give in already. He had an effortless effect over you. You could feel him smirking against your lips and when you pulled back, there was nothing but mischief in those big, brown eyes, “fine, pendejo. But be quick and quiet.”
“I don’t think it’s going to take much to make you cum,” he’d already started kissing along your jaw as you just sighed. He deftly unbuttoned your trousers and was pulling them down along with the lace panties you’d worn. A small gasp escaped your lips as he dragged a thick finger through your folds, “so wet already. All for me?”
“You’re the worst,” there was a huge smile on your face as kissed him, “but I love you.”
“Te amo,” he whispered, “now let me make you cum.”
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
“I have a crazy idea,” Javi walked back into your bedroom, clad in only his boxers as he brought water and some pastries for the two of you. He always denied that he had a sweet tooth, but this was a prime example. Maybe it didn’t help that you kept his favorite sweets on hand, but it was just a little something you liked to do for him.
“Oh?” you asked as he laid back down next to you, taking a moment to press a kiss to your forehead, “pray tell, mi cielito.”
“Let’s get married.”
“I…what?” The laughter you burst into caught you so off guard that you choked on your own saliva and ended up wheezing through your tears. Javier just shoved his mouth full of the sweet dessert as he pouted at you, clearly not on board with your amusement. Once you calmed down, you realized that he…he might have been making a serious comment, “qué pasa, Javi? En serio?”
“I’m glad to see you take me seriously,” he huffed, a light flush of color creeping into his cheeks.
“Javier,” you grabbed the plate and set it on the nightstand before shifting so you were sitting in his lap. You put your hand on his face, gently stroking his cheek, “what are you talking about? Are you being completely serious?”
“Yes,” the corners of his mouth twitched up into a small smile as he relaxed, “I am.”
“I never thought…you said you didn’t want marriage, you wouldn’t ever want it,” you raised an eyebrow at him before he leaned in and gently kissed you. It was so soft and tender compared to the sex you’d had just shortly before, “what’s gotten into you?”
“I’ve never had you before,” he whispered so softly, almost to the point where you weren’t sure it was meant for you to hear, “I guess I just needed you to change my mind.”
“Oh Javier,” you took his face delicately in your hands, studying him intently, “I love you, silly man. But I don’t want to hear you ask me that unless you mean it and fully intend on committing to it.”
“Well then,” he smiled gently, that ridiculously adorable crinkly-eyed, dimple displaying smile that managed to sweep you off your feet, “will you marry me?”
“Yes,” he leaned in and kissed you, his lips lingering against yours, “I’ll marry you, Javier. Nothing would make me happier.”
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───v
“Oh fuck,” you held the small plastic stick in front of you, angling it in different ways to see if maybe you were reading it incorrectly. Maybe it was a trick of the light? Maybe this one was wrong. 
Huffing lightly, you grabbed the other test out of the box and sat down the toilet, thankful you’d consumed plenty of water so you didn’t have to wait to have to go again. You quickly finished and set it on the counter, stepping out of the bathroom to pace around the apartment nervously. Javier was still at work and you’d left early when you weren’t feeling well. Little did you know that it all suddenly made sense - maybe. Hopefully not, you sighed.
Once the short wait was finally up, you jammed it back into the bathroom, and picked up the test. Not to your surprise at all, this one came back as positive just like the first.
“Oh no,” suddenly a million thoughts were racing through your mind as you tried to make sense of it all. Pregnant. You were pregnant. While you were surprised, shocked, and worried, a part of you was…excited. The idea that you and Javier were going to have a child was amazing. 
But then you remembered your situation. Colombia in the middle of a drug war with your husband working for the DEA. While you worked at the embassy, your job was much more clerical and you were safe compared to him but it still wasn’t ideal. Had it been any other time and place, this would have been the most wonderful moment of your life. Instead, a pit of worry settled into your stomach. What were you going to even do?
By the time Javier made it home, it was late and he’d expected you to be fast asleep. He found you sitting on the floor next to the fridge with tears running down your face. He quickly came over and got down on the floor next to you, looking you over to make sure everything was okay, “Javi.”
“What’s wrong, baby?” his eyes were wide with concern as he wiped some of your tears away, “what happened? Are you okay?”
“I’m pregnant,” you blurted it out without any hesitation, more tears running down your cheeks, “I’m sorry, so sorry.”
“Whatever are you sorry for?” you weren’t sure what his reaction was going to be, but calmness was not what you had been expecting, “first of all, it takes two to do this. You don’t have anything to apologize for.”
“I’m scared,” you admitted, letting him pull you into lap, “but I’m happy too. I know we hadn’t planned on this, at least not for a long time, but I’m so happy.”
“Want to know what’s even crazier?” he joked as you looked at him, all nervous smiles and doe eyes, “I think this might be one of the happiest moments of my life.”
“Do you want this too?” you whispered as he nodded excitedly before kissing you, not caring in the slightest about the salty taste, “oh, Javi. We’re having a baby. A whole, real human being.”
“You’re amazing,” he nudged his nose against yours, “I know you’re scared and fuck. Me too, baby. The idea of having to deal with countless sicarios scares me less than the thought of having a baby. But, I’m so happy. And there’s no one else I’d want to do this with. We’ll figure it out, I promise. We’ll make it work and give this baby nothing but the best.”
“Okay,” you nodded before wrapping your arms around him and burrowing your face into his chest, “I love you, Javi.”
“I love you more, cariño.”
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
“I’m going to miss you so much,” Javier’s grip on you was like a vice as you hugged him tightly, “you’re going to be okay, baby.”
“I’m going to miss you more,” you pouted before pulling away from him. He brushed a few stray locks of hair out of your face before gently touching your barely there bump, “I want to stay. Please let me stay here with you.”
“It’s not safe,” he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to control the stinging behind his eyes, “I don’t want anything to happen or even leave a fraction of a chance that you could get hurt. You’ll be safe and taken care of with Pops. He’s already got my old room all ready for you, and I’m sure he’s got the embarrassing childhood photos on display. Believe it or not, I wasn’t always this handsome.”
“Shut up,” you laughed through your tears, “I’m sure you’ve been a heartbreaker since childhood, Javier. I can’t wait to get there but I wish you were coming with me. So much is going to happen in the next couple of months and I don’t want you to miss it.”
“I wish I was coming too,” he promised. The idea that he was going to miss out on the majority of your pregnancy was heartbreaking, but he would rather have you someone safe where you’d be with family than be selfish and keep you with him, “I’ll be back for the birth. I swear it. Until then, you’ll just have to keep me updated, send lots of pictures and I’ll call you as often as I can. We’ll be okay.”
“I will,” here you were crying again, wishing he would change his mind and come with you or keep you there. But you knew that going back to the States was the best thing for your family right now, “you better be back, pendejo. I’m not pushing out your baby without you in the room.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” the last call for boarding for your flight was announced over the speakers as your heart clenched, “you better get going.”
“Javi-”
“I know,” his voice cracked slightly, “call me when you get home. I love you, okay?”
“I love you more,” you grabbed your carry on before he kissed you one last time, “come home soon, Javi.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Javier’s blood was pounding in his ears as he ran into the hospital, quickly finding the signs for the labor and delivery ward. He’d just come from the airport; an early arrival of the baby and a delayed flight had caused him to almost lose it. He’d promised you that he would be there for the birth and he was going to stick to that promise.
“Sir! You can’t run in the hospital,” a nurse called after him as he ran in the direction of the room Chucho had told him you were in. 
“My wife’s having our first child!” he shouted in response, dodging an incoming gurney, “I can’t miss it!”
By the time he made it to your room, he’d been able to hear the pain you were in from down the hall. He popped in and looked around, getting chided for just bursting in. He quickly explained who he was in and before he knew it, a surgical gown and hair net were shoved into his hands.
“Javi?” your voice sounded so small as you looked around for him. As soon as you spotted him, tears ran down your cheeks, “you made it.”
“I promised I’d be here,” he grinned as he came and leaned down to kiss you, “this baby didn’t make it easy.”
“Just like you,” you laughed before squeezing your eyes shut as another contraction came, “making life that much harder. But I still love you. But this hurts so bad.”
“I love you more,” he whispered, “you’re so strong, baby. You’re almost there and we almost have our baby. Just a little bit more. Look how much you’ve already accomplished.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” you took the hand he held out for you, “and I’m excited to meet our baby. But you’re never touching me again after this.”
“Whatever you want, cariño,” he promised, “whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.”
“Okay,” you whimpered as another wave of pain overwhelmed you and the doctor told you it was time to start pushing, “okay.”
A few hours later, you were exhausted and experiencing a million different emotions all at once. Giving birth was officially the hardest thing you had ever done - but it was all worth it as soon as you saw Javier holding your newborn son, all swaddled up in a pretty pastel blanket that one of the tías had made. You weren’t sure which one of you was more emotional.
“He’s perfect,” Javi whispered as he sat down next to you, carefully holding the baby so he wouldn’t wake him up, “I can’t believe we made him.”
“Making him was the fun part,” you managed to joke in between yawns, “now the hardest part starts. We’re parents, Javi. That’s our son.”
“I love you,” he whispered softly, “thank you for…everything.”
“Nothing to thank me for. Those are half your genes,” you grinned, “did you pick a name yet?”
"Diego," he gently touched his son's chubby little cheek, "what about you?"
"Francisco," you gave him a sleepy smile, "Diego Francisco. It's perfect."
"It is," he agreed, swallowing the lump that had welled up in his throat, "just like him. Just rest, baby. You've done so much."
"Okay," your eyes were already fluttering shut, "just for a little bit. If he cries, just wake me up."
"Of course," he leaned over and pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. You were out like a light within seconds. He was amazed by everything that had happened today; it had been a wild ride from start to finish. His entire life changed in a matter of a few short hours, “te amo, mi sol.”
That morning he had still been in Colombia, frantically trying to catch a flight back to Texas at the drop of a hat. Your son had decided to make an early appearance, coming a few weeks earlier than either of you had planned. But he was going to make it; a delayed flight wasn’t going to stop him. And now, here he was, holding his newborn son, a life that the two of you had created. In such a short period he had become a father and you a mother. 
“The world can be such a cruel, horrible place mijito,” he whispered softly, “but I’ll do everything to make sure you never have to experience even a bit of that. I’ll always keep you and your mamá safe. I’ll always love you.”
The baby made a few small sounds, but didn’t wake up as Javier held him against his chest. Maybe this was all terrifying and scary, but at the same time, this was the best day of his life.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
“Are you serious?” between your emotions, the crying baby, and Javier’s nonchalant attitude, you were ready to completely lose it. Little did you know he was trying to keep it together just as much as you. The idea of being away from you was enough to break his whole heart, “you’re going to leave just like that?”
“Baby,” Javier sighed as he wiped a hand over his tired face, “we always knew I was going to have to go back. I won’t be gone for long, I promise.”
“You have no way of knowing that,” you frowned deeply, trying to keep it together as you picked Diego out of his crib, “we both know that. It could be weeks, months, years, Javier. Are you really going to walk out on your son like that? I don’t give a shit about what you do to me, Javier, I’m too run down and tired. But Diego’s just a baby.”
“You think I just want to leave!?” he hadn’t meant to shout; but he was just so angry. Not at you, not at your son, but at the fact that he had to leave and he knew he didn’t really have an option, “I’m going to end this all and then come back home. And don’t even bother to suggest that the two of you come with me. Over my dead body. You’re staying here where you’re safe.”
“You can’t walk away,” you were crying now as the baby quieted down, “please don’t leave, Javi. I can’t do this alone. I-I’m scared. What if something happens to you? I can’t bear the thought that something could happen.”
“You don’t have to worry about me,” his shoulders slumped as he came over and wrapped an arm around you. He was crying now too, “I’ll be home soon, I promise. But you’ll be much better off here, and Pop will help you with whatever you need.”
“I know, but it’s not the same,” you whispered softly, “Javier. Promise me that you’ll be safe and come back home to us soon.”
“I swear it,” he whispered, “nothing could keep me from the two of you.”
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
“I want a divorce,” as the words crashed around him, he felt his knees go weak. He quickly grabbed onto the counter to keep himself from collapsing on the floor. Those were words he’d never expected to hear. Never. The silence on the line was tangible; he could hear your stuttered breathing on the other end of the line, “Javi? Did you hear me?”
“Why?”
“Why?” you repeated, your voice cracking and choked up with sobs, “are you seriously asking me that? Because you’re not here! You said you’d be back soon and it’s been a year. I’ve seen you twice in that time. It’s not fair to me, or Diego…or you. Who knows when you’re going to be back for good?”
“I promise it’ll be soon,” he was sure his heart was going to stop, “please don’t do this. I’ll do whatever it takes. I love you.”
“I know,” you sniffled before exhaling slowly. This was harder than you had ever anticipated. That was probably because you were still as madly in love with him now as you were back then, “that’s what makes this even harder. I know you love me, and I know you love our son. But I can’t do this anymore. I can’t put all of our lives on hold while you’re gone for who knows how long. What you’re doing is dangerous and I worry about you every day, Javi. I don’t want our son to grow up without you. Even if you hate me for this, please come home soon for him.”
“I will,” his throat felt like it was constricting as he tried to process your words. All he knew was that this was the last thing he ever wanted, “for both of you. Please just be a little more patient…please.”
“Javier,” both of you were crying now. You hated yourself for doing this but you weren’t sure what else to do. You’d tried calling, writing, and asking for him to come for at least a visit or offered to go to him. But every time he would tell you to keep holding on just a little bit longer. You just couldn’t do it anymore, “I know what you’re doing is important. I understand that, but this is hard for me too. I went through almost my entire pregnancy without you here, you were here for a month after he was born, and ever since then it’s been two visits. Maybe I’m the worst person in the world, but I just…I can’t do this.”
“Baby…”
“I know, Javier,” you whispered softly, “I love you. I do, and I always will. But I don’t think this is going to work for us. But I want you to know that I will never, ever keep your son from you. He will always know how much you love him, and when you finally come back home, we’ll figure out the co-parenting thing.”
“I’m sorry,” he closed his eyes, wishing that this would all turn out to be some horrible nightmare, “I love you.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” you sighed, “in an ideal world things would be so different. But this isn’t an ideal world, is it? You will always have my love, cielito. Will you promise me one thing?”
“Anything.”
“Take care of yourself. Stay safe and come home for Diego soon, okay?”
“I’ll be home as soon as I can,” he let out a shaky breath, “I promise.”
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
“Hey,” you grinned when he picked up your call, “sorry for calling so late, but I’ve got good news!”
“And just what would this good news happen to be?” you could practically hear the smile on his face.
“I - we - sold the house today,” you grinned, “one less thing we have to worry about. Everything Is in escrow right now, but I’ll make sure the broker puts half of the profits into both of our accounts. Let me know if that doesn’t work for whatever reason, but yeah…this is good.”
“Keep it,” he insisted as you groaned at him, “keep the money. Really, you deserve it and I know you’ll make good use of it for Diego. I want to make sure the two of you are taken care of.”
“Javier,” you huffed lightly, “it’s a decent chunk of money and I don’t feel right taking it all. I’ve got more than enough with work and then my half. What about when you move back? That’s a good chunk for retirement, you can build the house you want…”
“I should know better than to argue with you, shouldn’t I?” he teased as you grinned victoriously.
“You should absolutely know that by now,” you insisted, “you should have known that well before we got married…anyways, I’ll let you go, I’m sure you’re busy. Take care and be safe, cielito. Diego and I both want you to come home soon and in one piece.”
“Oh? The baby told you that?” he chuckled warmly as you told to shut up. 
“He’s not a baby baby anymore! He’s two and yes, he told me he misses his daddy and he will kick your ass if you don’t come home to see him soon,” you grinned, “straight from his mouth!”
“Aye, cállate,” a wash of longing came over him as he realized just how much he missed his son, and you, “talk to you soon, cariño.”
“Bye Javi,” you paused for a moment, listening to the sound of his soft breathing before hanging up. You sighed lightly as you leaned against the kitchen counter, looking around your new apartment. It was nice, small but still ample space for you and Diego. It wasn’t home yet, no that was still the house that you and Javi had just sold in the wake of your divorce. But one day it would be, you’d move on just like everything else did. 
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
"Are you ready to see your papá, mi amor?” you were running around and finishing packing an overnight bag for him to take to Javier’s house. It would have to do for now until Javier was more settled in and was able to put a room together for him at his new house. 
“Yes,” he grinned excitedly as he handed you one of his favorite toys to add to the bag, “I get to see daddy all the time now!”
“It’s very exciting,” you agreed before sitting down at the edge of his small bed, pulling him onto your lap, “your papá loves you very much. But you have to remember he’s still settling back into normal life.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means…he’s been working really hard for a long time chasing bad guys and trying to make the world a better place. It’s a big change from doing that for years and then coming home to family and having a safe, quiet job. Some days might be harder and he might be a little different. But just remember, it doesn’t have a thing to do with you - you are the most important thing in the world to him,” how were you supposed to explain just exactly what he spent so long doing to a five year old? You figured this very simplified version would suffice for now; you’d tell him the rest when he was much older. 
“Oh,” he nodded deeply in what you assumed was semi-understanding, “do you think he’d like a stuffed animal? He can have my giraffe! Or maybe the elephant?”
“I think he’d love the elephant,” you cuddled him tightly before kissing the top of his head, “you’re a good boy, Diego. We’re so lucky you picked us to be your parents.”
“Does that mean we can stop and get candy when we go?” he slid off your lap before making sure to grab the plushie, handing it to you to pack away in his bag.
“You’ll have to ask your papá,” you grinned, knowing Javi would never let you hear the end of it, “alright, kiddo, vamos.”
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
By the time you’d arrived at Javier’s house, a short drive across town, Diego was already half asleep, and you decided to take pity on him and carry him in. You gently knocked on the door, listening for Javier’s familiar gate as you hummed quietly to your son. It wasn’t long before he opened the door, a huge smile on his face at the sight of the two of you.
“Hi cielito,” you whispered, “the kid’s mostly asleep, which means he’ll be up in about an hour or so ready for dinner and whatever shenanigans the two of you get up to. Can you be a love and grab his bag from the car and I’ll get him inside?”
“Of course,” he gave your arm a gentle squeeze as he brushed past you. His familiar smell, something you’d always liked, overwhelmed you for a moment as you stepped inside and walked into the living room to put on the couch. He made a small sound but didn’t wake up as you gently touched his cheek, “got everything.”
“Thanks,” you smiled at him, causing his heart to skip for a moment, “he put a little surprise in there for you. I’m sure he’ll be excited to give it to you later.”
“I can’t believe we’re finally at this point,” he sighed as he shook his head, almost not believing his own fortune, “I can’t believe I can finally be a real dad and see my kid on a regular basis.”
“You’ve always been a real dad,” you promised softly, “he knows that too. I’ve always explained to him that you work hard and if you could have been with him every day you would have. Now you can have that. We’re almost like a normal family now.”
“Besides the fact that we’re divorced you mean,” he kept his tone pointedly neutral as you shrugged lightly, “thank you for bringing him over.”
“As if that was ever a question,” you laughed lightly, “I think there’s enough stuff in his bag for now until you can get everything else settled and get all the stuff for him to have here. If you need anything, just let me know. I’m just…a short drive away.”
“Great, yeah, that’s…great,” he walked you to the door and you lingered for a moment, part of you wishing you didn’t have to walk out and leave, “I’ll see you soon then. We’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Perfect,” you offered him a small smile before leaning over and pressing a kiss to his cheek, “welcome home, Javier. I’m so happy you’re finally here…you’re safe and sound.”
“Thanks, cariño,” he opened the door for you, half tempted to ask you to stay. But what reason would he even offer? I just want you to stay? Stay and don’t ever leave? He was sure neither of those would exactly go over well with you, “I’m glad to be home too. For good this time.”
“I’m counting on it, Peña,” you turned back to wave at him before getting into your car, “I’m not raising the monster alone!”
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
In the Now
“Do you want to dance?” you turned to your date with curious eyes as you finished the rest of your drink. His hand was on your knee and he gave it a gentle squeeze as a shiver of excitement ran through your entire body, “or should we get another round of drinks first? I can’t say I’m exactly the best dancer but maybe with some liquid courage…”
“Yes and yes,” you agreed, leaning in so your faces were only a few inches apart, “I don’t want to brag but I’m a pretty good dancer. Perks of living in Colombia for a few years!”
“I guess you’ll have to take the lead then, querida,” you nodded before giving his hand a gentle squeeze, “I’ll get us another round and then we’ll dance.”
“Perfect,” he leaned in and kissed your cheek before making his way over to the bar. You watched him go, a wistful little sigh escaping your lips as his retreating back. He was handsome; tall, dark haired with friendly eyes and a clean-shaven face that gave him an almost boyish appearance. 
You’d been set up with him through a mutual friend and you’d like him instantly. He was easy to get along with and you had enjoyed the time you’d spent with him. Julián was definitely someone you could have seen yourself with in the future, and will you really enjoyed seeing but there was just something that didn’t quite sit right within yourself. It wasn’t even him…it was definitely you. 
“Penny for your thoughts?” he’d returned while you were lost in your thoughts. You took the drink he placed in front of you and took a long drink. He was amused, raising an eyebrow in question as you couldn’t help but giggle. 
“Nothing at all,” you promised, trying to keep all of the deep, internal thoughts to the very back of your head, “come on, Julián. Hurry up so we can dance!”
Dancing with him was easy; the two of you flowed well with one another and it was easy to forget all the doubts and worries you had for a little while. What you hadn’t realized was that Javier had decided to go to the same spot for a drink after a long week. Diego was spending some time with Chucho and he figured it was better to go out for a bit rather than just sit around at home. But then he spotted you and it felt like he had made the entirely wrong decision. 
His heart constricted at the sight of you, laughing and having fun, with a man that wasn’t him. A sense of jealousy ran through him when he realized that he had no right to be jealous. You were his ex-wife after all. But that didn’t help how he felt, how it made his blood boil with annoyance, and his heart yearn for your touch. But he couldn’t blame you; he’d been gone, in and out basically, for several years. It would have been selfish of him to just expect you to wait around for him when you still had so much life to live. 
That didn’t mean it made him love any less than he did in the beginning.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
"Do you still love mamá?" His son's question caught him off guard as he took him out of his car seat to drop him back off at your apartment. He set him down on the sidewalk before kneeling down so he was at eye level with him.
"Of course I do," he insisted, ruffling his dark curls, "she's very important to me. Just like you, mijo."
"I know that," he rolled his eyes dramatically. Where did this kid get all the sass from? Definitely his father, you had always insisted with a laugh. Diego reminded him so much of you in little ways, just as he reminded you of Javier, "but are you in love with her?"
"I…why do you ask?" Javier’s heart suddenly felt like it was pounding in his chest. Why was his five-year-old son suddenly interrogating him?
"She's still in love with you, daddy," he insisted as Javier tried to keep a neutral expression on his face.
"Did she tell you that?"
"No," he shook his head as Javier raised an eyebrow at him, "I can just tell. She was going out with Julián but she broke up with him. I heard her on the phone…she said she wasn't in love with him and didn't want to lead him on.”
"And just how do you know that means she's in love with me? She's still my best friend, Diego. She gave me the most important thing in my life - you. And we both love you."
"I know, daddy," he put his little hand on Javier's shoulder and attempted to give him a serious look, "I'm telling you - she broke up with Julián because she's still in love with you. If she wasn’t she’d still be with him because she liked him a lot and said he was funny and handsome and nice."
"Aye, mijito," he couldn't help but laugh at the serious look on the young boy's face. He scooped him up in his arms before heading into the apartment building, "you're a good boy. You don't have anything to worry about, even if we don't live together or we date other people in the future, it doesn't mean we'll love you or each other less. You'll always have your mamá and me in your life."
Diego made a small sound but otherwise remained quiet as Javier brought him up to your apartment. He knocked the door and it was only a few moments before you opened it, a big smile on your face. 
"My boys," you grinned as Javier set Diego down, the young boy immediately moving to hug you. You leaned and pressed a kiss to the top of his dark curls, "hi baby! Were you good for daddy this weekend?"
"Yeah," he nodded as you looked to Javier for confirmation. He playfully rolled his eyes before nodding as well.
"Good boy," you stroked his cheek, "there's some fresh baked cookies in the kitchen. You can go and have one, okay? Only one!"
"Bye daddy! See you soon," and with a hug to his father's legs, he ran into the kitchen as you both laughed.
"Did you two have fun?” you leaned against the doorframe, tempted to invite him in but not wanting to make things weird or awkward. How would you have asked anyway? Stay for dinner because I want my little family to be complete. Don’t ever leave me. Stay. Instead you pushed all your feelings to the side, “I know he’s been having some trouble sleeping lately so I hope it wasn’t too bad.”
“No,” he promised softly, “he did good. We had lots of fun - went to the zoo so he could see his favorite lemur, this kid is obsessed I swear. We made pizza for dinner and went real crazy on Saturday and stayed up late to watch a movie. He was out like a light in less than thirty minutes. Right on top of me - I didn't have the heart to move him so I just let him sleep until he had to go to the bathroom.”
“Sounds like fun,” you grinned, “maybe we’ll have to have a family pizza night soon? I-if that sounds okay to you, that is. I don’t just want to assume you want to spend time with me.”
“I think that sounds perfect,” he promised softly before ever so gently reaching over to push a lock of hair out of your face, “I love spending time with him and you.”
"Javi…”
"Hmm?" he was so close; close to where you could smell his delicious cologne and feel his body heat. Your mind went haywire as you tried to figure out what to say. What to say without fucking anything up that is.
"It’s…ugh. Nothing," you lied as you shook your head, "have a good night. I'll have Diego call you tomorrow, okay?"
"Of course," he smiled lightly, almost as if he was expecting you to say what was really on your mind, "good night cariño."
"Good night, Javi."
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
"Mamá?"
"Yes, my love?"
"Are you still in love with daddy?" The question caught you so off guard you almost choked on the bite of cereal you'd just shoved into your mouth, "'cause he's still in love with you."
"Diego," you laughed affectionately at him as he looked at you with wide eyes, "I still love your dad, but I'm not in love with him. That's why we're not married anymore."
"So? You can still be in love and not married," this kid was almost too smart for his own good. He really did manage to get the best of both Javier and yourself, "but you broke up with Julián, I heard you tell him. And daddy only went only like three dates with that lady before he told her he wasn't interested. It's because you're both still in love with each other."
"Too smart for your own, Diego Francisco Peña," you reached over and touched his cheek gently, "but that means nothing. I'll always love him, I promise you that. How does that sound?"
"Lame," he huffed before sliding off his chair, "abuelo was right, you both are fools."
"He…he said that?"
"Duh," he insisted as he went to grab his backpack for school, "he said you both still love each other but won't say anything else 'cause you both are too stubborn and think being apart is the right thing to do."
"Well," you couldn't lie, your curiosity was piqued. You wondered if he had this same conversation with Javier, "the Peña men are both too smart and stubborn and I see you are no exception. But, mi amor, don't think too much into this and get your hopes up, okay? Come on, let's get you to school."
“Fine,” he reached for his lunch box on the counter, “I wish we could all live together so I could be with both of you all the time.”
You froze when you processed what he had said. You didn’t want him to have yearn and wish for that; you wanted to give it to him. But at this point, you weren’t sure if there was any more possibility of making that happen.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
“Chucho,” you were immediately enveloped in a hug as soon as the door was opened, causing you to make a small sound of surprise, “thank you so much for taking Diego today. He’s really excited to go to the movies.” 
“I love every moment with my grandson,” he turned to give him a hug, “besides this is perfect movie-watching weather.”
“Can we go get snacks first, abuelo?”
“Of course,” he promised, “we’ll sneak all the good stuff in under our jackets! Let’s get going so we’re not late.”
“Yay!”
“I’ll see you both later tonight,” you pulled up the hood on Diego’s rain jacket but not before kissing the top of his head, “have fun and be good. Both of you!”
“They’re going to get into trouble. I don’t know which one is worse,” Javier’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts as he appeared in the door. You laughed before giving him a quick hug, “hi cariño.”
“Mi cielito,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek before awkwardly standing there for a few moments, “good to see you.”
“It’s only been like…two days,” he snorted in amusement before putting an arm around you and pulling you inside, “come on. Let’s have some coffee.”
“Sounds perfect,” you agreed excitedly, “and just so you know, I always like seeing you, Javier. Even if it’s just been two days.”
“Aye, cállate,” he laughed lightly, “but me too.”
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
 You almost hated how easy it was to spend time with Javier. Sometimes you wished you would have disliked him; it would have made pushing down your feelings easier. But then again, you wouldn’t want that for your son; the fact that got along so well definitely was better for him. You couldn’t imagine him having parents that despised each other. 
“Hey,” Javier waved his hand in front of your face as you blinked a few times. You hadn’t realized you were that zoned out, “everything alright?”
“Of course,” you swallowed thickly. You glanced at your watch before realizing that over an hour had passed in easy, comfortable conversation, “I…I should get going.”
“Y-yeah…if you’re sure,” he seemed crestfallen by your sudden need to leave as you practically jumped off the couch and headed towards the door, “I guess I’ll see you when I drop Diego off tonight.”
“You don’t have to,” you stammered as he followed closely behind you, “you can just keep him tonight. It’ll be late when they get back and after dinner and all that. Yeah…so. I’ll talk to you later. Tell him I love him, okay? Chucho too.”
“What’s going on?” Of course he wasn’t going to let it go. He could read you without even a bit of effort. He could immediately sense that something had shifted and he had to know what it was. He had to know if…if you felt the same, “you know you can tell me anything.”
You paused for a moment, standing on the porch as you worried your bottom lip. Javier closed the door behind him so the two of you were facing each other with only mere inches between your bodies. 
You couldn’t lie to him - or yourself - anymore. He had to know the truth, and if nothing else, it would at least be off your chest.
"Javi," the sound of his name from your lips still sounded as sweet now as it always it had, making his heart practically constrict in his chest, "I - fuck…I'm still in love with you. I never stopped. I thought…I thought splitting up was better but I was wrong. God, you still frustrate me so much like you always did, you still make me so happy, you…I'm so in love with you. And I think I always will be."
He was stunned into silence as he stood there, his chest rising and falling heavily, dark eyes twinkling with curiosity. When he didn't say anything, your heart broke. A sense of regret settled into your bones as you realized you might have just made the biggest mistake of your life. Taking a step back, you cleared your throat before getting ready to run to your car and leave. 
"I…I'm sorry," you stammered nervously, "I shouldn't have said anything. I just…I had to tell you."
You almost ran off the porch and back towards your car, wishing the rain would just dissolve right into the ground.
"Wait!" he had to shout over the sound of the downpour but he caught up easily, his fingers wrapping around your wrist, "did you mean it?"
His touch felt electric, raising gooseflesh in its wake as you turned back to face him. A million emotions were written on his face as his heart hammered nervously in his chest. It was so loud within himself that he was surprised you couldn't hear.
"Yes," you were already soaked to the bone as face warmth flushed your face, "every word of it."
"Can I kiss you?"
"What?" Surely the rain must have been playing with your ears. He laughed - that brilliant, warm laugh that made his eyes crinkle in the corners and that singular dimple appear. That in itself was one of the first things you had fallen in love with, “Javi?”
“Can I kiss you?!” there was a smile on his face which led you to thinking that maybe you hadn’t heard him incorrectly after all.
“Why!?”
“Porque te amo,” he was shouting above the rain, which seemed to have decided to come down tenfold, “because I’m in love with you!”
“Really?” where those tears mixed in with the rain that was running down your face?
“Yes,” he was closer now, to where he no longer had to yell, “I always have been. Always will be.”
This time you took the initiative of kissing him, gently taking his face in your hands before you crashed your lips onto his. Your heart was practically bursting with joy as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. He’d been wanting this for so long; it felt like he could breathe again, like everything was as right as the rain. He could feel you smiling against his lips and he wondered just long how your heart ached for him in return.
“I should have done that a long time ago,” he whispered against your lips when you finally pulled away to catch your breath, “I should have come home a long time ago and we shouldn’t have-”
“It’s okay, Javier,” you promised softly, “what matters is that we’re here now.”
“Mamá! Daddy!” Neither of you had heard the sound of Chucho and Diego returning, but you had just enough time to see the small blur run across the yard before he almost knocked you both over. 
“Diego, slow down! You’re going to get all wet,” Javier quickly pulled him into his arms, doing his best to shield him from the rain even though it was pointless by now.
“I don’t care,” he grinned, displaying his gap-toothed little smile. He had that same little dimple that his father did, “I told you! You’re both still in love with each other!”
“I guess you were right all along mijito,” you brushed some of his wet curls off his face, “we love you too.”
“I know!” he insisted, “now can you stop kissing and come inside? Abuelo said we can have hot chocolate! Can you…will you both come?”
“Yes,” Javier promised him, “we’re both right here and that’s how it’s going to always be.”
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Resolution
“Hey honey,” Javier’s arms wrapped around your waist as he stood behind you while you finished the dishes. You immediately stopped what you were doing, grabbing the clean dish towel to dry your hands before leaning back into him. He pushed your hair to the side, exposing your neck and some of your shoulder before pressing his lips over the delicate skin, “I think the dishes can wait.”
“I don’t think you’ve left me much of a choice,” you sighed softly as you turned your head to kiss him properly. When you couldn’t wait anymore, you turned around so you were facing him, taking his face in your hands and pulling him back against your lips. He kissed you back just as enthusiastically, deepening the kiss as his hands found purchase on your waist, “do you think we have enough time for a quickie before-”
“Mamá!” Before you could even get the sentence out, Diego came into the kitchen, face covered in dirt from playing outside. Javier pulled back from you before letting out an almost inaudible sigh, “can I go over to Max’s house for dinner? He said they’re getting pizza for dinner!”
“Did Max ask his mom?” you raised an eyebrow as he nodded eagerly. You exchanged a look with Javier who just shrugged in response. You liked the neighbors, you liked that Diego had a yard again and friends in the neighborhood you’d moved into. Plus, you wagered to yourself, if he was gone for a few hours that gave you some alone with Javier, “alright mister. You can go over for dinner, but tell his mom and dad thank you. Then you invite them over for dinner this weekend, si?”
“Yay!” he cheered before giving you a quick hug.
“Go clean up first,” Javier insisted, “don’t want them thinking we’re uncivilized and raising a renegade.”
“Okay,” he huffed, already halfway out of the kitchen, “you can go back to kissing. Max says that’s what parents do when they love each other. And sometimes they can get a baby from it.”
“Diego,” your face flushed with warmth as you looked at Javier nervously. He was nothing short of amused, “don’t go around saying anything like that.”
“Why?” he pouted, his expression reminding you so much of Javier, “Max is getting a brother now. That sounds cool! I want a brother too.”
“Go clean up mijo,” Javier insisted as he tried to keep himself from dissolving into laughter, “let me know when you’re ready and I’ll walk you over.”
He ran to his bathroom without another word as you waved your hands in exasperation. Javier kissed your forehead as you groaned, “you’re having the talk with him when he’s older. I guess at least he doesn’t know what sex is yet.”
“But we do-”
“Javier!”
“Come on cariño,” he teased as he nudged your hip with his, “he wants a brother. Can’t disappoint him, can we?”
“Javier,” your eyes widened in surprise as you looked at with curious eyes, “I…umm…do you want another kid?”
“I’m not opposed to the idea,” he grinned as your heart swelled with excitement. He was a wonderful father after all, “but it’s up to you. I like the one we’ve got regardless of what happens.”
“You gonna marry me first?”
“I’ve already married you,” he reminded you, “you’re the one that divorced me.”
“Biggest mistake of my life,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, “will you marry me again?”
“I suppose so,” he made an amused sound, “I guess the rings would be better put to use if we wore them instead of keeping them in a box.”
“You…kept them? I thought you were going to sell them?”
“Didn’t feel right,” he put his hand to your face before gently stroking your cheek, “so I kept them. Maybe it’s a good thing I did.”
“Sap,” you kissed his palm, “I love you.”
“I love you more,” he promised, “what do you say? Do you want to get married again?”
“Yes,” you beamed at him, “yes, I want to be your wife again. But forever this time.”
“Forever sounds good, mi sol.”
“Daddy! I’m ready,” interrupted once again, you patted his chest before gently pushing him away, “bye mamá!”
“Bye baby, be good,” you waggled a finger at him before whispering in Javier’s ear, “hurry back, cielito. Then we kiss some more and maybe we’ll get a baby from it.”
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he almost groaned before stealing a kiss, “I’ll be right back.”
You watched as they left, Diego eagerly taking his father’s hand before pulling him towards the door. You’d turned back to quickly finish the dishes when you heard him ask, “are you really going to marry mamá again?”
“Yes,” was Javier’s soft response, “I’d marry her again and again and again.”
Maybe your first marriage to him had been impulsive and wild. But it had gotten you the two best things in your life; your son and your husband. 
This time around you were going to make it count. This time was forever.
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cindymooons · 8 hours ago
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PEDRO PASCAL as JAVIER PEÑA — NARCOS #3.9 (2015-2017)
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heythere-mel · a day ago
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A precious dork!! This seems awesome tho!! 🥰
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fangirlingcentral · 2 days ago
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Pedro being the happiest boy attending Star Wars events like TROS premiere, D23 The Mandalorian announcement, The Mandalorian premiere, doing press for Mando, or being in the Mando suit. Bby loves Star Wars so much. ❤️❤️❤️
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azertyrobaz · 2 days ago
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Pedro ‘Relatively Hairless’ Pascal
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