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carolmunson · 9 months

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caught like a fool without a line. (older!modern!eddie)

part five of who knows how many. orange colored sky setlist.

summary: we've been seeing eddie for a month and the fear starts to settle in. with eddie's past and present making things difficult and your own insecurities brewing, things come to a bit of a head one night when you're out at a bar. featuring older!robin and our favorite guy older!steve from @loveshotzz series 'all i really want is you'.

tw: age gappy (reader and eddie are 12 years apart, but reader is late late 20s/early 30s and eddie and late late 30s/early 40s throughout this story so it's not like so bad). drunk!reader, alcohol consumption, discussions of eddie's promiscuous past (i know some people don't like when eddie is a slut), implied that reader wears eddie's clothes to bed but not that reader is small. gifs by: @keerysbrandnewbg and @eddiemunsonsource

songspiration: open | rhye and feelings | lauv

You swirled the big ice cube in the tumbler with an unenthusiastic flair, making the orangey red liquid in the glass nearly spill. “And I don’t get it, we had a really nice first date and then made out again the next week and talked all the time and now he’s barely texting me back,” you complain, the tart grapefruit of your friend’s new take on an Aperol Spritz floods your mouth at your next sip.

“Maybe he’s just busy,” your friend Charlie suggests from behind the bar, “He’s older, you said, right? He might just not be on his phone as much. Do you like the drink? Is it too bitter?”

“It’s bitter but not in a bad way, in a good citrussy way,” you nod, “And yeah he might not be on his phone as much but then why just sort of suddenly drop off and barely respond? Like, look at this.” You take out your phone, laying it on the bar and scrolling through a plethora of blue texts with some sprinkles of gray in between, “I look so pathetic.” “I think you just really like him,” she shrugs, smirking, “And I think that’s good, you haven’t been this excited about someone for a little bit.” “Yeah, but every time I’m excited about someone it bites me in the ass,” you lean on the palm of your hand, flipping your phone over, “Plus like, I’m not trying to be with anyone like that right now.”

Your friend gives you a look, “Okay, sure.”

“What do you mean ‘okay, sure’?” you scoff.

“You’re not trying to be with anyone like your ex,” Charlie corrects, her dark red lips pulling into a smirk, “You go on and on about how you just want someone to take care of things for you. Maybe he’s that kind of dude.”

“He has someone come every Sunday to clean his house for him,” you sip the drink again, “I don’t think he can take care of anything for me, considering I can clean my own house.” The bar slowly starts to fill up with the after work crowd, leaving Charlie to run back and forth between you and pouring beers for incoming patrons.

“He can afford to have someone come and clean his house,” she says with a smirk, holding down the tap while she fills a glass with Lagunitas, "That's kind of hot." You flip your phone back over and sigh, no new messages.

If anything is true in the music and art world Eddie is involved in it's that Eddie Munson is a professional loverboy. Never with someone for too long, never long enough for them to want something more than fun -- never long enough for 'Are you my boyfriend?' never long enough for 'What are we?' It got easier the older he got, the less women and men cared about labels. You were right to make that judgement about his key carabiner hanging on the front of his keys. Eddie Munson is a slut, and everyone knows it but you.

He had two actual girlfriends in his early twenties, but nothing quite like his friendship with Steve. 'Platonic life partner, sometimes,' they'd list it as -- never too afraid to get affectionate. Hugs, kisses on the forehead, Eddie held him so many nights when Emma died he felt like they left an indent in the center of the bed. He touched and loved the people who loved him back, but to anyone else – he never wanted to get too close. He always gave out just enough of him – enough for people to keep wanting more, a satisfaction he basked in now since he was such a loner in high school with no notches to his belt.

But now he’s blabbering on to Robin over a huge plate of nachos about how you texted him all day. You texted him all day and he had his phone charging in the kitchen while he was upstairs in his office so he didn’t know and now it’s very clear that you’re upset.

"Okay? How is this different from the girl you were seeing over Christmas?" Robin laughs over a mouthful of loaded nachos, a frosty pink Frosé next to her to beat the heat. Her eyes crinkle closed, a smattering of freckles stretching on the apples of her cheeks when she smiles. The heat of a sunburn runs soft pink over her nose, outside of the gray in her sand blonde hair that she'll never dye, she looks almost the same as she did in high school. “So you didn’t text her back,” she shrugs, “You leave her alone, she fades off into the distance – just like the girl before that, and the guy before that, and the girl before that. Why're you talking about it like it's the end of the world?” "I care," he groans, turning his phone to show Robin your messages. You'd sent them every few hours, but most of the messages from the morning and afternoon were from when he was working -- phone nestled on the charger down in the kitchen while he clacked away on code upstairs. By the time he saw them he was embarrassed, and you were probably already at your friend's bar. Eddie tries to explain the whole situation while Robin scrolls through with a careful and soft expression, a tiny smile forming on her face.

“I already fucked it up,” Eddie sighs, pulling his hair up into a ponytail with volume hair stylists would envy. He runs his hand over his jaw, following the edge of it to land behind his neck where he squeeze gently on the muscle.

Robin shrugs again, passing his phone back to him, “Par for the course, kid.”

His eyes narrow, “I’m older than you.”

“Whatever,” she rolls her eyes, “You always fuck it up, Ed. That's your thing. You walk into a room and someone leaves crying. You've never done the whole sappy love thing with someone, why do you think you're changing your tune now?”

“I know but – fuck Robin, I didn’t even sleep with her yet,” he says a little louder than he intends. His tattooed hand wraps around the Pilsner glass in front of him, dripping in condensation, bringing it to his lips.

“That’s a new development,” she raises her brows, crossing her legs, "You never wait this long."

“I just…I don’t…I shit – I don’t know.”

“What did Steve say?” Robin asks, teeth biting down on the straw to her drink, “He always has good girl advice.”

“I haven’t even told Steve.”

“At all?!” she nearly spits out the frose all over the nachos.

“Rob we just buried Em,” he explains softly, “Like, she’s not even fuckin’ cold yet. I can’t just come out of the woodwork five months later like ‘Hey man, think I actually met a girl I’d consider a future with. We’ve been seeing each other for a month’. And like – what if I’m just psyching myself out? What if this is just an early midlife crisis?”

Robin takes a slow sip, nodding while he speaks before taking a pause. “Ed, I think you’ll feel better if you tell Steve,” she offers, “I think he’d get your head straight about it. But in the meantime, you should text her back.”

“What do I even say?” he huffs, shoving a loaded nacho into his mouth. “Try honesty with a woman for once in your entire life, Rockstar boy,” Robin plasters on a customer service smile that makes him let out a frustrated ‘tsss’, “It won’t kill you.” "Here, I'll text Nance and ask her -- she's our next best bet," Robin takes out her phone and types with the fervor of a teenager with a sugar high. Eddie sips his beer, looking at the screen of his phone while the cursor to type blinks back at him.

You stumble out of the bar, too crowded now to have fun with your friend. Over tired and over served you make your way down the street and around the corner, stopping to lean against the brick wall of a different bar when you feel your phone buzz in your hand. You take a minute, taking in your surroundings. People are so loud down here, and everyone is so pretty. Street lights are there and gone and there and gone as cars whiz passed on Delancey, the bustle of the Friday night life in the LES is a buzz with excitement. You're already a little down for the count. Your phone feels like a paper weight in your hand, sighing with satisfaction at the notificaiton on the screen. But your chest still aches with annoyance, how many times were you gonna get drunk at a bar with a swollen heart over some dumb boy? Man? Guy?

You don't want him to come save you, you know how to get home. You can see the green bulbs of the train entrance and the glow of the McDonalds 'M' on the corner in the distance. Down the stairs, one train into Brooklyn, cross platform transfer -- you've done it drunker than this countless times before. You text Charlie with an air of victory before putting your phone back in your smart black faux leather bag slung over your shoulder. The warm summer air flows over your legs, catching the hem of your a-line skirt -- the light material flowing in the breeze. Time isn't working quite right for you but it feels like it's been five minutes and he hasn't shown up, so you make your way to the edge of the corner to cross.

"Whoa there, Peach," you hear Eddie's gruff voice from the side of you, the pull on your arm the same as when he steadied you at Trader Joe's a month ago, "Careful now."

You pull out of his hold, glassy eyes focused on the black and white stripes on the street ahead of you, "I know what I'm doin'."

“Where are you goin’, huh?” he asks softly. Eddie steps in front of you, guiding you to the light post to get out of the way of other pedestrians.

“Home,” you slur, “M’goin home. Trainssright there.”

“I don’t think you’re good to take the train,” his voice is gentle, hand coming out to hold you at the waist, “I can get you a car.”

“I’m fine.” It's the only sentence that comes out lucid, his jaw ticks.

"You don't look fine," he looks down into your glassy eyes, a look he's seen before. The way his mama would drown herself in whiskey and stumble into the kitchen so the bruises would't hurt so bad. The way an old fling would slur to him about how she can't live without him. The way you look so sad and it's his fault.

"I'm. Fine," you reiteratie. The light changes, the bright white of the walk sign flashes across the street. You go to pass him but his hands place themselves on your shoulders. "You really wanna get boiled alive on the train?" he asks with a smile, "You don't wanna take a car?" You sigh, why does he have to be so handsome? The gin from your last two drinks travels from your head to your thighs, pulling them together at the sight of his smile. He has that ratty vest on, a CBGC t-shirt sticking to him under it, the sleeves completely torn off. He smells like cedar and citrus again, a hint of a left over cigarette. His grays catch the light of the over head lamp, bouncing like tinsel in his pony tail sitting on the crown of his head. "Can we go to your house?" you ask, voice raised a higher octave than normal. His face blanches, "Aw honey, that's not a good idea. I don't want you to think that I --" "Please?"

"Thanks, have a good night," Eddie waves off the delivery man with a smile as he rides away on his bike. With plastic in hand he makes his way back up the stairs where you've set up shop on one of the stools in his kitchen, head down on the island counter.

"Food's here," he says quietly. Dealing with drunk you was very much like dealing with drunk Robin in the early 2010s, overgrown toddler in a bad mood. You let out a half hearted 'Yay', head coming up, eyes half closed in the kind of sleepiness a few mixed drinks and some beers can send you into. He goes into the fridge and pulls out two bottles of Poland Spring and a beer for himself. The waters get placed in front of you while he tends to getting the food plated up.

You ignore the water -- Blue Moon bottle staring right at you, and to be honest -- a cold cirtussy beer sounds sooo good right now. You reach forward, the glass ice cold against your palm now that the liquor has fully settled, heating up your skin. The sound of glass on the counter cobbles through the kitchen when you slide it closer to you, alerting Eddie to the noise.

“Excuse me,” he says sharply, snatching the bottle out of your hand, “Can you behave?”

You pout when his eyes narrow at you, heart thumping guiltily in your chest, shame brewing in your skin. You nod back at him with sad eyes, a twinge plucking in your heart strings.

“Don’t give me that face,” he warns, “Don't act up."

“I don’t like when you’re mean,” you mumble softly, running your fingers in shapes over the butcher's block counter top. He sighs, plating your sandwich and pulling your fries from the bag. He kisses your temple while he slides the plate in front of you. "I'm sorry, honey," he says quietly, but gin always puts you in the mood to argue. "You don't have to talk to me like, like -- you don't have to talk to me -hic!- like I'm a kid," you hurtle out, surprised at your own gumption, "I'm not."

"I know," he says, putting the bags into his recycling bin under the sink, "I'm not talking to you in any kind of way Peach I -- " "You don't even like me," you state. His head cocks to the side, leaning on his hands while they hold on to the edge of the island. "Who said that?" "I was -hic!- I was talking to someone at the bar about --" you start, lump building in your throat, "About you and um -- they said, they said it sounds like --" Your eyes water, "Like I'm just for fun." "Oh," he says, looking down at his hands. The weight of this conversation falling into his stomach from his chest like a deep pit.

"Like I'm just fun for you to play with -- but like, you don't even wanna have -- you don'even wanna h-have-have seggzwithme so like -- you don't even like me." More and more if your insecurities flow out of you like a broken faucet, tears starting to slip down your cheeks.

"And like you probably don't even think I'm pretty."

"Oh, baby, no," he coos, brows tilted in sympathy while you drunkenly let all your sober fears out, "I think you're so pretty."

"So pretty," you repeat, wiping your face with your hands, "But that's it."

Eddie takes a deep breath, coming over to you and pressing his warm soft lips to your cheek, "Let's talk about this in the morning, sweetheart. I'm gonna get upstairs ready for you."

"I should just go home," you sniffle, embarrassment starting to flow through you with your bloodstream, burning all your pores, "I'm sorry." "No, no, don't go home," he assures, nose nuzzling against your cheek, "Stay. Just stay."

He makes sure you eat, watching you come back to yourself the fuller and more hydrated you get. You're easy to lead upstairs, pliant and tired now, needy almost -- not that you'd ever admit to it. You tease him about his 'old man pills' when he takes out his perscription high dose Motrin he got for some old back pain. Great for when you might get a killer hangover these days. You grimace at the Pedialyte mixture he has you drink before you get tucked into his bed -- out before you can even feel him grab the pillows and a throw from the other side of you. He settles in downstairs on the sectional, sighing while he thinks about the way your face scrunches when you're about to cry. He flicks through his Hulu options on the big screen in front of him but nothing really seems to catch his attention. Mind wandering to you asleep upstairs but knowing better than to crawl into bed next to you when you're not yourself enough to say it's okay. The familiar buzz of his phone goes off on the coffee table, when he picks it up his face is on the front screen while someone calls in on FaceTime. "You're callin' late, man," Eddie grins lazily, socked feet sticking out to rest on the worn walnut table in front of him, "You okay?" "Yeah me and Bandit just got in from camping. Got some pics of him to send you, he's such a scamp." "You have fun?" he asks, rubbing his eyes. Eddie's voice is quiet while he speaks making Steve's head cock to the side. The lights changes on his face while he walks from the living room to his bedroom. "Yeah we had a lot of fun," Steve starts, "Why're you whispering?" "What do you mean?" Eddie asks, getting up off the couch to pad back into the kitchen. "You're talkin' all quiet," Steve smirks, "You got a girl over or something?" Ed puts his phone down and huffs while he grabs a bag of chips from the cabinet. Steve giggle, leaning his head in closer to the screen. "You do, don't you?" he guffaws, "Am I interrupting?" "She's sleeping," Eddie says softly, picking up the phone again and leaning against the counter. "Aw, so you ended up texting her back? Good."

"What the fuck? Who told you that?" Eddie's brows furrow, spitting through a mouthful of chips. "Robin, obviously." The light changes on him again while he makes his way to his own kitchen. Bandit's little pants and huffs echoing into the phone, "You think Nancy came up with the 'Hey pretty girl,' opening? She's never been a flirt."

"Well it worked so, congrats."

"Why didn't you tell me about her?" Steve pulls his own bag of chips out. They crunch together. "It just didn't seem right," he shrugs, "Y'know with Emma it's hard to be like, 'Hey I think I might actually see a future with this girl I've only been seeing for a few weeks.' Like, you just lost the love of your life."

"I'm not gonna be sad to hear that you're into someone, Ed," Steve smiles softly, voice calm, "Tell me about her."

So he does, he tells Steve about how he kept running into you that day at Trader Joe's and how he felt so stupid for not waiting at the doors for you but he was too scared. You were so cute in your bike shorts and sneakers, so careful in how you chose the fruit you were gonna get. When he saw you on the platform he knew it was like he was getting a second chance -- "Maybe Em thought you should stop being such a whore and sent her over," Steve laughs. Ed rolls his eyes but can't hold back his chuckle, watching as Steve rests his chin on the heel of his hand while he listens. Eddie talks about the picnic date, how he immediately felt comfortable telling you about his mom. The rain, the kiss in his apartment -- how he could've fucked you but didn't. How all your little dates had gone since.

"Oh so you like her," Steve nods.

"I'm scared," Eddie says quietly. "Scared?"

"What if it's just a fluke and I hurt her? Or I get hurt?" Eddie asks, "And like -- please don't take this the wrong way but like -- what if I put in all this effort and then lose her?"

"Like how I lost Em?"

Eddie nods slowly, not wanting to say the quiet part out loud. He talks about what you said when you got back to his place, how you think he doesn't really like you, how he doesn't think you're pretty. You're just for fun. "But this doesn't feel like 'just for fun', does it?" Steve challenges gently, "Cause if she was just for fun you would've texted me about if she could deep throat or not."

Eddie chuckles darkly, pink rising on his cheeks -- Steve chuckles too. Still gross boys who are gross.

"You should tell her how you feel," he encourages, "What's the worst that can happen?" "Everything."

"Okay," Steve shrugs, "I lost everything. And what happened?"

"We all came to pick you up." "Exactly. We'll be here to pick you up, too. Don't like..." Steve sighs, "Don't just immediately throw something away just because you're not used to it. The more you stand there and think about what you want, the less she's gonna think you want it."

"I know..." "So let her know you want it."

They talk for an hour, both cozied up on their respective couches -- Bandit immediately getting in the frame and yelping at Eddie's face on the screen. The seize in Eddie's chest loosens because maybe this could be okay. Now he just has to make sure you know it.

You wake up the next morning, groggy and dry -- but thankfully not nearly as hungover as you were expecting. Your joints hurt, your stomach's a little jumbled, but no headache and that's what matters the most. You shift in his crisp sheets, turning around to see that the bed is empty next to you -- pillows and throw blanket gone with him. You slept alone. You look at your phone on the bedside table next to a full bottle of water. You chug it while you check your notifications -- 6:11 AM. If anything was true, you always woke up too early when you drank too much the night before. The water sits heavy in your belly, pressing your bladder which was already screaming for you to go to the bathroom. With a sigh you stand up, and when you do, the embarrassment of the night before settles in. Your emotional hangover.

You pad to the bathroom and pee, seeing your face in the mirror like you did the night you got rained out. Your makeup is smeared, face a little bloated -- you do your best to wash it off. The cool water feels good against your skin, still hot from the liquor and dehydration. You pat your face dry and leave the bathroom, lingering at the top of the stairs where he's laying on the couch, already awake. "G'morning," you rasp out. He perks up, head tilting up to look at you from his place in the living room. "Morning, peach," he smiles, "You feelin' okay?"

You nod, ungracefully stomping down the metal steps of the spiral staircase while you get your footing, "Your old man pills must be magic or something."

Eddie pulls back the blanket, scooching back against the cushions to make room for you to lay down next to him, "C'mere, baby."

C'mere, baby runs down your spine, making your throat catch. You make your way towards the couch, crawling in next to him. The living room is quiet, with just some early morning sun pooling into the windows -- like you two are the only people awake on the street this morning. He covers you up, wasting no time wrapping himself around you and pulling you into him, "Did you sleep okay?"

"Yeah," you nod into his chest, the scent of his skin mixing with the faint smell of cirtus and cedar, "Did you?" "Normally I'm fine on the couch," he says, voice grizzly and sleepy, "But I didn't sleep a wink last night." "Oh, I'm sorry. I could've slept on the couch or I --" "No, it's not that," he shakes his head, catching your gaze, "Probably would've slept better if you were next to me." Your cheeks burn, a smile splittling across your face, "Well I'm here now."

"You are," he nods, leaning up to run his thumb over the apple of your cheek where a stray piece of glitter sits. Remnants of your makeup that you couldn't wash away.

"I'm um...sorry for how I acted last night," you confess, "That's not like -- that's not how I am."

"Don't be sorry," he assures quietly, "I understand." You're both quiet for a moment, the hum of the central air fuzzing the silence between you. "You're not just for fun, peach," he says, a seriousness to his normally playful voice, "I'm sorry I made you feel like that." "I um -- I'm sorry I kind of went a little insane," you shrug, feeling small, "I didn't mean to text all those times and then come here and cry and like --" "Stop apologizing," he says, thumb grazing your lower lip to stop you, "You were just feeling a way, that's okay. I get it." He takes his thumb away, leaning down to give you a kiss that sends you reeling. Warm and soft, delicate. His hands lead his arms around you again, smiling when you reach up to cup his cheek. "I like you," Eddie smirks against your mouth. "I like you, too," you smile when he breaks away. "The deli's open on the corner if you want me to run over and get a bacon, egg, and cheese," he offers quietly. "Why do I feel like you were gonna do that anyway?" you ask in the same tone. "I was," he grins again, "I just wanted to impress you by asking." He sits up, clamboring over you to get some coffee started so it'll be done by the time he gets back. You wait patiently for him, rolling your eyes while he shoves his socked feet in his slides, leaving the house in his pajamas of a t-shirt and black joggers. You prepare the coffees, feeling domestic like you live here -- getting used to where things are already.

He comes back twenty minutes later, sighing when the air conditioning hits him as the door opens, "It's already like, 80 degrees."

"Gross," you reply, face scrunching in the way that he likes, "Coffee is ready." "Oh, thank you." His eyes glitter at the gesture, seeing that you used the same mugs from when he had you over the first time. Those are his favorites, but you'll learn that eventually. The sandwhiches are tossed on the butcher block counter where you cried last night, but your embarrassment melts away when you feel him wrap himself around you again -- like he can't get enough. "I'm playing a show on Thursday at House of Yes," he says, "They're doing a metal theme'd night." "Yeah?" you ask, hands reaching for the plastic baggy and taking out both of your sadwhiches wrapped in foil. His arms still tight around your middle while you maneuver around your kitchen. "You should come," he asks, kissing the top of your head, "I'll get you a ticket."

"I don't know if that's really my scene," you shrug, twisting in his hold to face him, "I'm not like -- I'm not cool and underground like that." "So?" he quirks his brow, "You can be cool and underground for one night to hang out with your hottie rockstar boy-toy."

"That's so gross that you described yourself that way," you laugh, pushing out of his hug and opening your sandwhich, "Like, so cringey, babe." "Babe," he repeats back to you, "I like that. You can call me 'babe' whenever you want." "Duly noted," you agree, teeth sinking into the bread of the roll and breaking into the warm and gooey center. The jumble in your stomach starting to fade away while the grease of the egg soothes it. Eddie takes his sandwhich and coffee to the living room, taking his phone off the coffee table to open up his text conversation with Steve:

she called me babe.

i literally can't even breathe right now.

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#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fluff #older!eddie munson #older!eddie #older!steve harrington #stranger things au #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #eddie munson fic

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wannab-urs · 4 months

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Title: Something Sweet

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: You’re new to the team in Colombia and all alone on your birthday. Your partner, Javier Peña, decides to do something sweet for you.

Tags: Set vaguely during season 1 before Javi gets extra angsty, canon compliant-ish, reader feeling lonely, sassy!reader, flirty!javi, alcohol (wine), brief mention of a gun bc I feel like a DEA agent wouldn’t just answer the door all willy nilly, kissing, javi asking for consent, but y’all did share a bottle of wine, kissing, fingering f receiving, marking, unprotected PinV, cuddling. I always write angsty Javi, but this is FLUFF, so sorry if it’s OOC, I’m slightly out of my element here.

WC: 2107

A/N: This fic is a birthday gift for @psychedelic-ink. Sil, you’re a wonderful friend and you do so much for the Pedro Pascal Fandom community on top of being an incredible writer. So, with some help from @pedrorascal with the beautiful gifs, I schemed up a little fic for you. I hope you love it! Happy Birthday and Happy Holidays AHHHH.

Moving to a new country two weeks before your birthday, which also happens to be Christmas Eve, is not ideal. You moved to Colombia from Miami after a promotion, earning a spot on the elite team working to catch Pablo Escobar.

The last two weeks have been a whirlwind, trying to catch up on all the facts of the case. You have to learn every sicario by sight and all of their names, aliases, and frequent hang outs. You have to learn about everything Escobar has done in Colombia, all the cartels and how they connect, it’s all extremely exhausting and time consuming.

Which is why you have no friends yet, unless you count your new partners Javier Peña and Steve Murphy. Which you don’t. You barely know them, and from what you’ve seen so far, Peña is an asshole. Steve might be okay, but you just haven’t had time to get to know him yet.

You take off your windbreaker and hang it on the back of your chair. It’s kind of ridiculous that you have to work on Christmas Eve, but there’s no rest for the wicked and therefore no rest for you either. You sit down and open the first file on your desk, immediately getting down to business without so much as a greeting for your partners.

A couple hours into the work day, a shadow darkens your desk. “What do you want, Peña?”

“God damn, hermosa. Touchy today? I brought you a coffee.” Peña sets the cup of lukewarm black slop on your desk and leans further into your space, peeking at the files you’re reading.

“Yes, actually. Did you need something or did you just come over here to bother me?”

“I just came over here to compliment your nails, actually,” he takes your hand in his, inspecting your nails, and then looks into your eyes. “I like the color. Suits you.”

You feel heat rise to your cheeks. Peña is cute. Gorgeous, really, but you don’t make a habit of flirting with your coworkers. “Thanks… They were my birthday gift to myself.” You tug your hand away from him and place it in your lap.

“It’s your birthday?” He asks, still leaning much too far into your personal space. You nod and look back down at the file.

“I have to get back to work now,” you almost whisper to him, all your bitter snark from earlier replaced by a sense of melancholy. There’s not a soul in this entire country who knows it’s your birthday today. Aside from Javier, now, you guess. Javier lingers for another moment before pushing off your desk and leaving you to your work.

You’re starting to pack up for the day when Peña comes up to your desk again, sitting on the corner.

“So what are your plans tonight?” he asks.

“Huh?” You don’t have any plans. A phone call from your friend in Miami and a bottle of Chilean wine maybe.

“Your plans? For your birthday?”

“Oh. I don’t have any. Don’t really know anyone yet so…” you trail off. You feel kind of pathetic, even though you know it’s completely reasonable to not have a group of friends yet.

“Me and Murphy could take you out?”

“Oh um–”

“Actually, Jav,” Steve calls out from his desk. “Me and Connie have plans tonight. Christmas Eve and all,” he gives you an apologetic look.

“It’s fine really. I’m gonna have a nice relaxing night in. Thanks though.” You put on the best smile you can and head for the door.

You hang up the phone after your short call with your friend. It’s expensive to call long distance, but she stayed on with you as long as she could. She told you all about her new boyfriend and that everyone had wished you a Happy Birthday and Happy Holidays. You’re grateful she didn’t ask about your job or your love life.

As you pop the cork on a bottle of wine, there’s a knock on your door. You stare at the door questioningly, as if it will tell you who’s there. Who on earth could be knocking at your door at 8pm on Christmas Eve?

You grab your gun and sneak over to the door, peeking through the peephole. Broad shoulders and a dark head of hair are all you can make out through the tiny lens. Javier? You set your gun on the side table and pull open the door.

“Peña? What are you doing here?”

He turns around and holds his hands out to you. “Brought you something.” He’s holding a birthday cake, clearly store bought, decorated with a generic “Feliz cumpleaños” scrawled on top. A bright smile lights up your face.

“Oh Javi, you didn’t have to!”

“I wanted to. You gonna invite me in for some cake?” He raises his eyebrows at you.

“Oh! Yeah sure. Come in!” You step to the side to let him through and close and lock the door behind him. “Sorry about the mess. I’m not fully unpacked yet.”

“I’ve been here for 7 years and I’m not fully unpacked. It’s fine.” Javi reassures you. He sets the cake down on your kitchen counter and starts rifling around for plates and silverware.

“I can do that,” you try to move him out of the way, but he’s having none of it.

“No, it’s your birthday. Let me. You pour yourself a glass of wine and go sit on the couch.”

“Fine… thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You grab a couple glasses and the bottle of wine and carry it to the living room with you. You’re kind of shocked he’s here. He’s always flirty in the office, but he’s like that with everyone. He’s not what you’d call friendly otherwise. Maybe he just feels bad for you.

Javier drops down onto the couch beside you holding two plates with hefty slices of chocolate cake. He hands you one of the plates and a fork. “Happy birthday. I’m not going to make you do the whole candle thing.”

“Thank you, Javier. This is really, really nice.” You feel like you might cry. It’s just cake, but you felt so alone, and it’s like he really saw you. He saw through whatever exterior shell you were wearing and decided to try to make your day better.

“Just Javi is fine. And it’s not a big deal, really. You deserve something sweet on your birthday,” he says looking down at the cake in his hands.

“It is to me. A big deal, I mean,” you say softly before taking a bite of the cake. It’s nothing special, just a plain chocolate cake, but it means so much to you.

You and Javier, Javi, chat about where you’re from and how you came to work for the DEA. You tell him about living in Miami, about the promotion that brought you here. You finish the bottle of wine and a couple more pieces of cake and the conversation doesn’t stop for a long time.

Late in the evening, you finish a story about your 6th birthday, one your aunt always told to the whole family every single year at your birthday dinner. He’s sitting close to you, his thigh pressed against yours despite there being plenty of room on the couch to sit without touching. It makes your heart flutter a little.

You don’t know if it’s the wine or what, but the little crush you have on him is getting pretty hard to ignore. Javi smirks at you, reaches up, and brushes his thumb over the corner of your lip.

“Got a little icing there, cariño,” he says, his voice lower and huskier than it has been all night. He brings the icing smeared thumb to his mouth and sucks it between his lips. Your eyes track the movement, pupils blowing wide. He really is pretty.

You feel yourself lean in toward him, almost unconsciously chasing that thumb to his mouth. He brings his hand up to your cheek and searches your eyes for a moment. He must see what he was looking for because he pulls you closer and presses his lips to yours.

His lips are soft, warm, gentle on yours. You grab his face in your hands, not wanting him to pull away yet. He slips his tongue along the seam of your lips and you part them, letting him in. You’re not sure who makes the move, but slowly, your back is lowered to the couch, Javi a comfortable weight on top of you. Your hands explore his broad shoulders, the muscles of his back, his trim waist, as he plunders your mouth with his tongue.

“Can I touch you?” He rasps against your lips.

“You already are,” you giggle. “Sorry. Yes, Javi.”

He huffs a laugh into your mouth and slips a hand into your lounge pants, fingers finding your dripping seam. “Wet for me already, hermosa?”

Your cheeks heat up in slight embarrassment, but you nod. You’re soaked just from kissing him. By the feel of him against your thigh, he’s not better off. He pushes two fingers inside you and presses his lips back to yours. You gasp into his mouth, hands fisting in the back of his shirt.

His fingers immediately find the spongy spot deep in your core. He curls them, dragging the pads of his fingers along your g-spot with every pump of them inside you. You cling tightly to him, burying your face in his shoulder.

“Come for me, baby.”

Your body responds to his command instantly, the tension in your belly releasing into waves of pleasure. Your cunt flutters around his fingers and you whine into his neck as he works you through it. You collapse back onto the couch, and he wastes no time dragging your pants off you.

You hear the clink of his belt opening, the sound of it hitting the floor. You sit up on your elbows to watch him as he strips off the rest of his clothes. You bite your lip, drinking in the sight of the gorgeous man before you.

He takes your hands in his and pulls you to your feet before pulling your tank top off you. “Shit, hermosa,” he whispers almost reverently as he takes one of your tits in his large hand, rolling the nipple between two fingers. “Gorgeous.”

He kisses you again, wrapping his strong arms around your body and pushing his chest flush with yours. “Bedroom, cariño?”

You walk him back to your room, barely separating your lips from his for the entire journey. You fall back on your bed and he follows, settling between your legs. His lips drag down your jaw line to your neck as he lines himself up with your entrance. Javi sucks a mark just below your collarbone as he slowly thrusts inside you.

You wrap your legs around his hips and pull him deeper into you, whining at the stretch. “Fuck, Javi.”

“Working on it, cariño,” he teases as he bottoms out inside you. He pushes himself up on his elbows and stares into your eyes as he pulls out and thrusts back in smoothly. Your mouth falls open, a little huff spilling out as he bottoms out again. He feels so fucking good inside you.

Javi sets a steady pace, thrusting into you hard and slow, eyes never leaving yours. When your eyes flutter shut and your back starts to arch in pleasure, he slips his arm under your back, pulling your hips higher on his thighs. The new angle is everything. You gasp out a moan every time his cock punches deep inside you.

Javi is everything in this moment. Your world narrowed to the feeling of his cock pounding into you at that same maddeningly slow, hard rhythm. You feel yourself tightening around him, feel a coil winding in your belly tighter and tighter.

Javi’s lips find yours again with a kiss that’s more a clash of teeth and tongues than anything as you come hard on his cock. Javi lets out a low groan into your mouth at the way you squeeze him. He thrusts into you a few more times, fucking you through your high, before he quickly pulls out and spills all over your belly.

He rests his forehead on yours for a moment, catching his breath. He kisses you deeply one more time before falling to the bed beside you. Javi pulls you into his arms, not paying any mind to the mess he made on your stomach. He holds you close, kissing the top of your head.

“Happy Birthday, cariño.”

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vhagarlovebot · 1 year

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HEARTBEAT.

♡. ── gif credit. ; ( aemond targaryen masterlist. )

pairing: aemond targaryen x fem!reader

summary: aemond sees you playing around with one of helaena’s children and doesn’t hesitate to join.

content warnings: just pure fluff, aemond being a good uncle to helaena's children, aemond flirting.

note: if there are any grammatical errors i apologize, english is not my first language! hope you enjoy.

YOUR LAUGH CAN BE HEARD at a great distance and aemond thinks he has never heard anything so sweet before.

as he approaches the gardens, he can see you running and hiding behind a tree, a silver haired seven year old trying to keep pace. his sister is sitting nearby with her embroidery in hands, a couple of maidens not far behind. before helaena can say anything he tells her to keep quiet holding a finger on his lips.

however his nephew sees him and starts yelling his name, running to him with open arms. he picks him up and you come out from behind the tree, straightening your clothes and bowing before him.

"my prince,"

he smiles and nods in your direction, his attention on his nephew. "what? you want help chasing the pretty lady?" you face heats up at his words, suddenly a stain on the floor is a lot more interesting. “we should chase the pretty lady, then.”

the prince leaves jaehaerys on the floor, holding one of the little kid’s hand, and they immediately start running to you. so you play the part too, yelling for someone to help you as you run, hiding behind the tree again.

you wait a few seconds before checking where they are, but you can’t see them anywhere. frowning you turn to the other side only to bump into someone’s chest, losing balance.

“easy there,” his hands steady you and when you make eye contact with aemond he’s wearing such a beautiful smile that you find yourself smiling at him too.

“got you!” the little one makes you jump and came back to reality. “we deserve our kisses now.”

you look at him with embarrassment, suddenly very aware of your proximity with the prince, who won’t let you go, hands still holding your arms tightly.

“i… a kiss on the cheek was the prize- but you don’t have to,”

“he is right,” aemond says, surprising you. he bends down to take nephew in his arms again. “we do deserve our kisses.”

you bite your lower lip and force yourself to look to the floor, the color on your face giving away how nervous you really are. his piercing gaze sending shivers down your spine, waking every nerve ending in your body.

aemond lifts your chin ever so tenderly with one of his fingers, his thumb brushing lightly across your lip.

jaehaerys leans in, proudly showing you his cheek. giggling you kiss him two times and the little boy hides his face in the crook of his uncle’s neck.

“my turn now.” it is aemond’s time to lean in but instead of you kissing him, he’s the one bringing his lips closer to your face. and you’re frozen in place, your heart beating so fast you feel that at any time it is going to get out of your chest.

you see stars the moment his lips make contact with the corner of your mouth, his soft lips touching yours for a second, and something explodes inside you.

“breathe.” aemond whispers, his breath tickling you. your trembling knees make it difficult to stand up and support yourself and he notices, helping you by putting his free arm around your waist.

you are experiencing so many emotions, all your thoughts screaming his name, that only when jaehaerys moves, having fallen asleep in his arms, you remember where you are and who is watching. but before you can even think about pulling away, aemond tightens his grip.

“the weather is nice today, don’t you think? i would be crazy if i let you go before we take a walk, my lady.”

his singular smirk is back on his face and you’re not thinking straight anymore. you can smell him, a mixture of cedar, leather and sweat making you dizzy.

he adjust the little one in his arm, and with a squeeze on your waist you two start walking.

“i have always love the path through the gardens, so many different trees and flowers, so much to explore.” you say dreamily. “it’s just so… beautiful.”

“indeed. very beautiful.” unbeknownst to you, he never takes his eye away from you.

#📮 ⌇ my works ˖⋆࿐#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x you #prince aemond x reader #aemond x reader #aemond fic #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond targaryen scenarios #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon imagine #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic

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follows-the-bees · 6 months

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Filmmaking analysis time!

How cinematography, blocking, and camerawork in S2 eps 6&7 show Ed's and Stede's emotions.

Since season one, red has been used to show the love for each other: the red of the silk and Stede's new red shirt in both moon scenes. We also know that purple comes out more as Ed falls in love with Stede.

So let's talk about Calypso's Birthday and Man on Fire.

The lighting during this scene is full of color, the reds, purples, and blues. Besides being classic bi lighting, it incorporates the red and purple that we know represents Ed's and Stede's love.

They are swimming in it. Yet, they aren't the same blockingwise, they aren't as close as last season, there is still stuff between them that needs to be spoken. They are standing by each other, their bodies turned inward, and a giant red flower sits bright and center between them, showing how large and full the love they have for each other is.

These purples and reds diminish when Ned Lowe crashes the party. His presence brings a screeching halt to the healing and good times the crew and particularly Ed and Stede are having. He not only crashes the party but right before Ed and Stede were about to dance. This giant wrecking ball that symbolizes Ed's pirate past brings in the harsh blue and green lighting and ups the trauma for both men. Green lighting is used to show that things are off, it is off-putting and fills the scene and audience with unease.

Gif credit

The purple lighting stays very subtle during this whole scene, but as Ned insults everyone, and brings up all of the still unspoken insecurities of the men, the blue shines more, especially on Stede as he makes his choice to have Ned walk the plank. We see immediately how that affects Stede, his trauma comes roaring back, he's shaking, and has tears in his eyes. He retreats back to his cabin.

Ed on the other hand is also experiencing trauma here. While helping out and being around Stede, he has been treading water, trying to figure out what he actually wants in life. And the embodiment of that, when he was at his lowest after S1, when he was trying to break the record has come back to taunt him and the man he loves. He chooses to check in on Stede.

This is when the lighting and camerawork change. We are now inside and the lighting is warm, glowing from candlelight. Ed has a yellow glow behind him when Stede opens the door, like he is the beacon of light in this storm of emotion and trauma that Stede is experiencing from his decision to kill Ned. To cross that boundary when with the rest of the crew he used his usual positive people management style.

Pay attention to their positions here, cause this upcoming choice makes this scene feel off. The pull into the room and the subsequently slam into the wall and kiss are flipped. Along with the quick movements in each shot, this triggers a little part of our brain that realizes something is off even if we don't know why. Read more about the mirror shot in this meta analysis.

When Ed and Stede decide to be together for the first time, to numb the traumatic pain in their desperation and love for each other the lighting is different. It turns a warming orange/yellow glow, showing the softness of the situation.

These men desperately love each other and want to be together. They both agree to this night, Stede pauses before kissing Ed, waits until Ed nods his head and gives consent then pulls Stede in.

And when Stede closes the curtains, the lighting is back to red and purple. The two colors symbolizing the love these two have for each other.

In the morning, the bright yellow lighting is back. The beautiful morning sky in the background looks serene and idyllic, but it also puts our characters in a shadowy haze in the foreground.

They are still in the warmth, the afterglow of being together. Ed gets nervous and brings Stede breakfast in bed. (A parallel to Doug and Mary). They have an intimate conversation where Ed opens up about seeing mermaid Stede while in Purgatory. They have now been intimate in all forms of the word.

But there is still something off, just like with the mirrored images. Stede is shirtless, open, feeling safe. Ed has ditched his leather clothing, his Blackbeard persona, and is now in fine clothing. And I can't confirm but the inside of the robe looks purple. But his robe is closed, which can be read as still hesitant, even if it's subconscious. And they have the same body language of all of the last episode. They are sitting apart, not touching, but still comfortable facing and leaning into each other.

And this bliss continues outside where they open up more. The lighting is bright, pretty, they are surrounded by greens and tans, glowing still. Stede tells him about the multiple letters in bottles he has written. They are opening up about things but they are still avoiding what needs to be talked about - the trauma, their different paths that seem to be emerging.

And then finally, when the fight happens, all of the uneasiness from the mirrored shot, the close but not yet close enough body language, all of these choices come crashing down just like the relationship.

The light is muted. They have spent part if not all of the day apart. So the lighting indicates that it is approaching sunset not only in time but in their relationship, the foreshadowing of Ed breaking up with Stede and leaving.

Ed has already made up his mind. He is leaving to be a fisherman. He thinks what happened the night before - and by that - the moving too fast part was a mistake. While they both love and want each other, Ed is self sabotaging - in a direct parallel of last season - thinks he has ruined Stede, spiralling and choosing like he's done in the past to completely run away from the darkness. He needs to learn that he can embrace both (all) sides of himself without losing himself.

Stede tries to save it. Responds to Ed saying "this can be whatever we want it to be." But then things escalate, things aren't explained. Stede doesn't realize what the fish means to Ed, and saying he lied about the quality of the fish is Ed's view of them, "they are the fish."

They need to talk, about what they want, their diverting paths, finding common ground, and learn how to be in this relationship.

They believe the exact opposite of the truth. Ed thinks he's ruined Stede and that Stede won't love him if he's not Blackbeard (the chin convo!) And Stede thinks he isn't good enough for Ed (and everyone, that is why he goes a little crazy when people recognize him - in a direct parallel to Ed during the dinner party in 1x5.) And Ed doesn't love his softness.

All the lighting reaffirms just how much these two love each other, but the blocking, mirrored camerawork, and fast movements show the underlying unresolved tension that has been building up and ultimately leads to this rift.

#our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd s2 #ofmd spoilers #our flag means death s2 spoilers #ofmd season 2 #stede bonnet #ofmd stede #ed x stede #gentlebeard #ofmd ed x stede #ofmd edward teach #blackbeard #ofmd season two meta analysis #ofmd meta #meta analysis #our flag means death filmmaking analysis

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lab1rynth · 1 year

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YAN!FEMBOY

Yan!Femboy who you met working at a cafe, you were honestly confused when you first saw him, you thought he was a woman before he spoke, asking you for your order. His body was quite feminine, it was not helping that he was wearing a dress, but his voice was low.

Yan!Femboy who likes chatting with you when taking your order, being quite friendly as he worked, when bidding you goodbye he hoped you would come back. He always hoped costumers would come back, he absolutely enjoyed having 'regular's.

Yan!Femboy who gets absolutely giddy when he sees you sat in the same place you were the day before, strutting up to you happily and taking your order, taking note that you ordered the same thing that you had ordered yesterday.

Yan!Femboy who you continue this cycle with almost every day for the next few months. One day you see him off work, dressed in a short pink skirt and a beige turtleneck, his hair done up in a messy bun and tied with a ribbon. His small height was boosted by the two-inch platforms he wore. He was quite giddy to see you it public, giving you a friendly hug before engaging in conversation. He tells you that you both should definitely meet outside of the cafe more!

Yan!Femboy who gives you his number and sends you good night and good morning messages, sending you random cat gifs throughout the day, as well as random fit checks. He had grown to love talking to you, staring at your messages for hours on end until you texted him, where he would respond almost immediately.

Yan!Femboy who finds himself trying to find clothes that would catch your eye, staring at himself in the mirror and imagining you loving up on him, praising him and your hands on him, giving him a little shiver at the thought.

Yan!Femboy who texts you one day, asking to go out and eat together, which you agree to! He gets dressed in some of his best clothing, feeling himself up and hyping himself up until you text him and tell him your waiting outside. His smile widens at the text and he would immediately rush outside and greet you before closing the door behind him and starting to walk with you to the restaurant.

Yan!Femboy who is just interested in your life, asking you about personal things like where you work, your birthday, your favorite color, are you single? Yan!Femboy who genuinely gets sad when you told him you're dating someone, his eyes moving to look out the window of the restaurant as you kept talking, oblivious to his silence. You tell him more about your partner, and send him a link to their Instagram so you both could get to know each other. When he went home that night, he tossed off his shoes, jumped on his bed and shoved his face into his pillow, screaming and crying, his eyeliner running down his face as his legs kicked in the air.

Yan!Femboy who ran out of tears a few hours later, staring up at the ceiling, his face still damp with tears and his phone resting on his chest. He hadn't responded to any of your texts you sent him yet, he couldn't without remembering he wasn't able to have you.

Yan!Femboy who gets an idea, he clicks on the link to your partners Instagram and scrolls around a bit. Okay, he could work with this. He friended them, and sent the first message, his plan was finally set in motion and he was willing to wait as long as he could to finally have you.

Yan!Femboy who became your partners bestest friend after a few months, you were quite happy to see your two favorite people enjoying each other's company. They told each other everything, he even went out to do stuff with them multiple times a week. Little did they know that every time the thought of them come up in his mind, he seethed with hatred.

Yan!Femboy who, after a year, told your best friend that you had been cheating on them, sending photoshopped evidence to them and asked them to keep quiet about where they got the information. They were obviously distraught and broke up as soon as they could with you in a screaming fit before kicking you out of their house, your stuff getting thrown out onto the sidewalk. You had gone to the only person you could think of, him.

Yan!Femboy who happily took you in and comforted you, telling you how bad of a partner they were for trusting an anonymous tip over you. How horrible of a person they were for throwing you out like that without listening to you. He gave you a tight squeeze and comforted you for the rest of that day.

Yan!Femboy who took advantage of your sad state of mind, getting closer and closer to you that you feel as if you start to fall in love with him. His cute little giggle, his scrunched up face when he's focused, the way he's always there and seems to know exactly what you need, he's perfect for you and you finally see that. Oh god, but what if he doesn't like you? What if he's just being friendly? You wished you had the courage to tell him how you feel, poor you.

#x fem!reader #male reader #x female reader #x gn reader #x male reader #x male y/n #x masc reader #male yandere #x female y/n #fem reader #gn reader #x gender neutral reader #yandere x you #yandere writing #WhiteBall

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coffeeshades · 1 year

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credits to the gif maker!

LOVE IS COMPLICATED - PART III

summary: the trials and tribulations of falling in love or two idiots who are obliviously in love.

pairing: pedro pascal x actress/singer!reader.

word count: 13.5k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). filthy smut. angst. cussing, age gap, mentions of drugs and alcohol. no use of y/n, if i missed something please let me know!

a/n: i know i made you guys wait a lot for this but i wanted it to be perfect and i was really busy but it's finally here now! thank you for the love on the first two parts, i love all of you. happy reading!!!

"Oh yes! I forgot about the most exciting part. It's your friend, Pedro Pascal."

You're not sure who it's exciting for, because it's certainly not you. Sure, Jon had no idea what had happened between you and Pedro, but you were hoping he did at the time. Because if he did, he wouldn't be gushing about how exciting it is that the two of you are going to collaborate.

You try to hide your dismay and muster up a smile as Jon continues to talk about how great Pedro is. You can't help but wonder how you're going to make it through this project without letting your personal issues with Pedro get in the way of your work and finally driving you into insanity.

Regardless, you know you have to remain professional and focused. It's just a job.

"Does he know about me?" you hesitantly ask.

"Yeah, he's known for awhile." Jon replies, "We asked him not to mention anything, but I've gotta say I'm surprised he actually didn't."

"I've got to say I'm surprised too."

•••

For the next few weeks, the only thing on your mind was Pedro. You couldn't stop thinking about what he might have said or what he thought when he found out you were going to work together. This war between you and your brain was pretty stupid because you could just call him or send him a quick text.

Hey, guess what? We're finally going to work together! :)

Simple as that.

The problem was that you didn't want to be the one to bring it up first. You weren't the type to hold a grudge over trivial matters, but here you were, silently punishing him for what he did last month.

One of your last shows on the tour was in New York, and as usual, you invited most of your friends. Even though Pedro had been living in London for the last few months, you still sent him a text inviting him. He had taken a flight for other stuff, so it was safe to assume he would make the effort for this as well.

You: Hey! I know you're in London, but my show at MSG is next week, and everyone's coming. I would like for you to come too :)

Pedrito: Hi, my schedule here is pretty tight for next week. I'm sorry. Next time?

You: Bummer. Sure.

Despite your disappointment, you understood the situation perfectly. His work schedule has become quite hectic recently, as he has been traveling and shooting movies in various locations such as Hawaii, Boston, and now London. Your schedules no longer seemed to be in sync, and neither of you made an effort to rearrange your plans to fit the other.

Those months he spent filming with Oscar in Hawaii were by far the worst. Mostly because they were having fun and you weren't part of it. To put it mildly, the FOMO nearly killed you. The group chat and his Instagram were filled with pictures of them surfing, hiking, and exploring the island while you were miles away alone.

The night of the show arrived, and everything went smoothly as planned, leaving you with a feeling of relief and satisfaction. That later changed when, backstage, in the midst of winding down, Oscar approached you with a smile, "Too bad Pedro couldn't make it, he would've loved this outfit."

You smile as you look down at your own stage outfit, knowing he'd like it because of its purple color.

"Too bad he's in London," you reply back.

Oscar's face falls slightly as he responds, "London?"

You nod as you chug down the last of your water bottle.

"No, he got here days ago," he says, huffing a laugh. "I called him so we could ride together, but he never answered. I figured I would run into him here."

"Oh."

Oscar's expression is slightly puzzled, as if he's trying to connect the dots between the two statements. "Is everything okay between you guys?"

You wanted to lie so bad; say yes and play it cool. After all, that's what you two have been doing for the past nine months: playing pretend. But this whole exchange has caught you off guard, and you're not sure if you want to continue with the facade or finally be honest about the situation.

"I don't know anymore."

Your attention snapped back to the present.

For days, you tried to brush it off and convince yourself that it was no big deal, but deep down, you couldn't shake off the feeling of disappointment and hurt. He had been there and chose not to go. Not even a call or text to explain or apologize. Nothing.

So, no. You weren't going to text him first, were you?

Manhattan Beach Studios, Los Angeles.

October 2018.

If somebody had told Pedro three years ago that he would be starring as a bounty-hunting badass in a signature Star Wars series, he would've laughed in their face. But here he was, about to start the table read for the first episode of The Mandalorian, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves as he waited to see how his character would come to life on screen.

It was a pinch-me moment. He had come a long way since his early days as a struggling actor, and he was grateful for the opportunity to work with such talented people on a project that was sure to be groundbreaking. As he looked around the room at his fellow cast members and crew, he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and accomplishment.

Until his eyes landed on you.

He then felt shame and guilt for how he handled things a month before. He knows he fucked up. You're sitting across from him, the heavy, discerning quality of your gaze sending shivers down his spine. It's as if you're peering right through him, past the gleaming politeness to the rough edges beneath. If looks could kill, he'd be a dead man.

Your expression says, "Wipe that smile off your face. There's nothing to be happy about."

He was convincing himself that he didn't exactly know what drove him not to tell you the truth about his availability. Except he did. His time away from you had allowed him to get you out of his system, and he didn't want to fall back down the maybe-I-have-feelings-for you rabbit hole again. So in true Pedro fashion, he avoided it.

He knew he'd be back in New York for your concert when you texted him. Yet he boldly lied. And it bit him in the ass.

He couldn't throw away all the progress the two of you had made, so he knew he had to make amends for his behavior before it was too late. He made a mental note to talk to you after the reading was over.

•••

The reading was over in what seemed like an eyeblink. You were so thrilled to be part of this, and even given everything that has happened between you two, you would be lying if you said you weren't happy you're doing this with him.

Though you weren't doing a particularly good job of displaying it. You barely talked to him when you got here, quickly exchanging hellos and moving on to something else.

You were settling into your trailer with your agent, going over some details, when you heard a knock. Your agent quickly rises to unlock the door as you continue to put some of your things in a drawer. When the door opens, you hear him before you see him. "Taylor, Taylor, Taylor!"

Taylor couldn't help but laugh at his antics, and you can't either. A smile formed on your lips as you closed the drawer before collecting yourself and remembering that you were really mad at him.

"Pedro, long time no see!" she says as they hug and exchange pleasantries.

Taylor looks my way. "I am going to get some of those snacks we saw earlier," she says, "I'll be back in a bit."

As she exits the trailer, you make your way to the door. Pedro is standing there, dressed in a black sweatshirt, olive green trousers, and white sneakers, which you can only describe as attractive.

Needless to say, he was making it difficult for you to hate him right now.

•••

Pedro's mind goes completely blank when he sees you; it's as if he has forgotten everything else around him and all he can focus on is you, making it hard for him to form coherent sentences.

"You cut your hair," he blurted.

"Yes."

"It looks very pretty; I like it."

"Is that why you came here?" you inquire, "to tell me my hair's pretty?"

"No, I came here to apologize," he replies back as he steps into the trailer and closes the door behind him. He watches you sit on the edge of the sofa that adorned the room, hands on each side of you, waiting for him to continue.

He takes a deep breath. "I know I messed up and hurt you. I just wanted to make things right, kid."

"Why?"

"Because you’re the last person in the world I want to upset. That would be, like, devastating."

"Hmm," you hum, a blank expression on your face, "you're not doing a very good job at it."

Pedro couldn't help but smirk at your jab, "Clearly. You looked like you were plotting my murder in there."

"Oh, I already know where I'm going to hide your body."

His laugh fills the room, and your face softens. He began walking towards the couch, and you both slumped back into it at the same time. "It's nothing really; I'm over it," you say, staring at the wall.

Pedro tilts his head to look at you, "When will you learn that you're so bad at lying that it's not worth even trying?"

You face him, your beautiful eyes catching him off guard. "This is the worst apology ever, by the way."

"I know, princesa," he says softly. "But I mean it. I'm sorry I didn't go, and I'm sorry it took me this long to apologize."

You slowly nod, your face displaying a hint of uncertainty. As if you're trying to figure out whether he's sincere or not, which he wishes you didn't have to even wonder about. "It's okay if you didn't want to go; I just wish you would've said that instead of lying and making me look like an idiot, P."

No, no, no. I wanted to go, but I'm a fucking coward.

Your words pierced him like a dagger, and the pang of guilt washed over him again. He's been drowning in it for the past few weeks, but to actually hear the disappointment in your voice is a completely different beast.

Before he could even muster up a response, you speak again, "But I forgive you."

Pedro's breathing slowed down as you placed a hand on his thigh, and he heard those words. He reciprocated the gesture and then put his hand over yours, gripping it softly, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Good," he says, "because now we can properly freak out about this," excitement overflowing through him as he couldn't keep it in anymore.

He needed to share this with you. When the creators of the show approached him, you were the first person that came to his mind. One of the things you've always wanted to be part of was Star Wars, so he knew you would be jealous to find out he was cast in this and couldn't wait to give you a hard time, just like Oscar did when he got the role of Poe.

That plan quickly fell apart when the creators revealed they were bringing you aboard, and even though it meant he couldn't torture you any longer, he was overjoyed you were going to be by his side in this.

“You must be ecstatic,” you tell him, your hands still connected, "this is a big deal."

"Yeah, who would've thought?"

"I did," you attempt to correct yourself, but it’s too late. Pedro has already saved the words for later in his mind. "I mean, we did! We all did. Your friends, I mean. We knew things were only going to get better for you. Even before I met you, I knew you were going to do great things. Sarah talked about it all the time, too, and we're pretty sure this is only the beginning."

He's stunned at the rambling explanation of your thoughts about his rising career. He looks at you with gratitude in his eyes, feeling fortunate to have supportive people like you in his life who believe in him.

The lack of hesitation in your voice did the opposite of what your words had done; it cooled down the hope that had lit up like a flame in his chest.

"Now, come on, let's find Taylor and those snacks," you tell him as you rise up from the couch and extend your hand to him, "I'm hungry, and we still have costume fittings," you add. He puts his hand in yours, restraining himself and letting you struggle to pull him up as you try your hardest to do so.

"You asshole!" you yell, tightening your grip on his hand, "Stop that and get up!"

He can't stop laughing as you finally manage to pull him up. "you need to work on your strength, baby," he says between chuckles.

You scoff and playfully hit him on the shoulder, "My strength is fine, thank you."

"Ow! Who's the asshole now?" he exclaims, rubbing his shoulder.

“And don't call me baby,” you tell him. "I forgave you, but that doesn't mean I'm not still mad at you."

"I don't think it works that way, baby."

"José Pedro!" you exclaim, clearly irritated.

"Sorry, old habits die hard."

The next two months were amazing, to say the least. It's as if all the two of you needed was to work together on a TV series to realize how much you needed to be together. Just like your on-screen characters, you two were tied to work together by a third thing, that thing being, of course, the child.

Speaking of the child, you were obsessed with it. You couldn't believe a green, Yoda-like animatronic puppet could win your heart in such a short period of time, but here you were. It was magical. Truth be told, everything about The Mandalorian was magical.

Every day you had to step on that immaculate set that's built and surrounded by volume, which creates an infinite sort of visual experience in terms of skies, planets, space, ships, and all kinds of things, was magical.

It just felt like you were stepping onto these highly sophisticated amusement park rides, with very little being left to the imagination because of how incredible the design work is from all the departments.

Another magical thing was seeing Pedro bring the character to life. His ability to convey so much depth and complexity to a character that is mostly hidden behind a mask is truly impressive. From crafting his "Mandalorian" walk and stance to his deep, jarring voice.

That voice.

That voice was made to torture you and send shivers down your spine. That voice made you forget all of your life's problems. Actually, that voice was made for one thing and one thing only, the bedroom.

"Oh my god, it doesn't sound like a bedroom voice!" he protested, as he highlighted lines in his script.

You were joining him and the creators in the recording booth for his voiceover session.

"It does! It's a sexy bedroom voice." you teased, making everyone laugh. "That's not very Disney of you, P."

He gets closer to the mic and whispers, voice altered because of the modulator, "Bite me."

"See? It works perfectly."

•••

You were having as much fun as you could. Simply put, you two were menaces on set.

You could tell Jon, Dave, and the rest of the crew were patient with your antics, but it was clear that they were also entertained by your on-set dynamic. It's not everyday that you get to work with your best friend, and you two made it everyone's problem.

Although sometimes you have to admit you take it a little too far.

"Catch me if you can, Boba Fett wannabe!" you scream.

Pedro was chasing you through the set with a prop sword, trying to get you to stop teasing him about his costume. "You are one insult away from getting a taste of this sword!"

"Okay, tin can man!"

You were running away from him as fast as you could, hoping to find a place to hide before he caught up with you. You quickly hide behind one of the makeup trailers and peek out to see him come to a stop, catching his breath. He was wearing his Beskar getup, minus the helmet.

“Give up yet, old man?"

He laughs. "We're being extra cruel today, huh?"

Taking advantage of his momentary pause and facing away from where you were hiding, you slowly inch closer to him, trying not to make a sound. As you get within arm's reach, you draw one of your prop knives from your costume pocket and hold it to his back. Using your free hand to hold him steady, you lean in and whisper in his ear, "I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold."

He turns his head slightly, and you can see the smirk on his face. "That's my line, thief."

Before you could pull away, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you back toward him. He takes hold of you and tightens his grasp on your waist. "Let me go, P!"

You struggle to break free from his grasp, but he only holds you tighter. "I am going to squeeze you so hard you will fart," he chuckles.

You snort. "You have such a way with words."

As you try to wriggle out of his grasp, you accidentally elbow him in the face, causing him to release his hold on you and stumble into a piece of plywood that had been propped up.

"Aw, fuck!" he cries out, clutching his nose.

"Holy shit, I'm sorry!" you rush to him, cupping his face. "Are you hurt?"

He removes his hand from his nose, revealing a cut and a trickle of blood. "It's alright, just a bloody nose," he says calmly.

You touch his nose gingerly, and he winces in pain. "Nevermind, I think it is broken."

•••

You begged Jon to let you ride to the hospital with them; after all, this was your fault. When you get there, the doctors rush to Pedro's side and begin examining him.

If you weren't preoccupied with being mortified over this, you'd laugh.

The scene before you is straight out of a sitcom, with Jon frantically explaining the situation to the doctors, Pedro in full costume with fake injuries and blood that you were pretty sure the doctors thought were real, and you standing there with an expression that screamed: Hey! It's me! I did this!

After a couple of minutes of clearing up that it was an accident and that the blood coming out of his ears was fake and not the cause of a brain hemorrhage, one of the doctors led us to a room to examine his nose.

"It's not broken," the doctor said, as she prepared to clean the wound. "He's just going to need a couple of stitches."

"Oh great, we still need to finish a scene, and they're waiting for us." Jon replies.

"This will take 15 minutes, tops," she says, grabbing a tray of medical supplies. “I will be fast.”

"I'll call the guys," Jon tells you as he exits the room.

You nod in agreement and stand in a corner as you silently watch the doctor carefully clean, anesthetize and stitch up the wound. You feel relieved that it wasn't anything more serious.

After she finishes, Pedro thanks her, and she nods with a smile. "You're going to need to take some analgesics for the pain. I'm gonna go grab my prescription pad. I'll be right back."

She exits the room, and you walk over to Pedro. He moves his head slightly, showing off his nose.

"How does it look?" he asks teasingly.

Your cheeks warm with embarrassment. "I can't believe I ruined your perfect nose."

"Who said it isn't perfect still?" he says it as if it were a challenge. His brow is arched, with the tiniest smirk hidden in one corner of his mouth.

"Don't start. I'm mortified."

"Tranquila, princesa. I said it was okay after you apologized 20 times on our way here," he reassures you. "Plus, now we have a funny story to tell during our press tour next year."

You sigh. "I guess you're right."

"You know," he says, "what hurts right now is that today is our last day of shooting. I can't believe it's been two months already. Time fucking flew."

Your heart sinks as you're once again reminded that this amazing experience is coming to an end. The day you've been dreading for weeks is finally here, and you're not ready to say goodbye. It's not like you already know you'll be back next year for the next season, but you're not ready to say goodbye to him and the daily routine you've formed, which mostly consists of breakfasts together, long hours on set, and late-night movie marathons.

"Yeah, I'm trying not to think about it," you muttered, "gonna miss our little routine."

Pedro studies you. "Maybe we can extend it for a little while longer."

Not knowing where this is going, you raise an eyebrow inquisitively. Pedro smiles, "I..I was thinking maybe... maybe you could come with me to Chile for Christmas with the family."

Your heart skips a beat as you process Pedro's words. You open your mouth slightly to say something, but you close it again, momentarily speechless, overwhelmed by the unexpected invitation.

"Uh… I know you probably have plans with your family,” he interjects, “but I thought this would be a good time for you to finally meet my father and the rest of the family, and—"

Before he could finish, you nodded eagerly, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of spending Christmas in Chile with Pedro and his family, “Yes, I would love to."

You've never seen him smile as broadly as he does now, and you know that you have made the right decision.

New York City

December 15, 2018

“Dude, he invited you to his hometown with his family, and you still think that man has no feelings for you?”

“Taylor...” you paused, picking up a clothing item that had fallen to the floor. “It's just a friendly gesture.”

“Yeah, I'm sure he invites everyone to his hometown to spend the holidays with his family. Sureee.”

You didn't want to go there; you'd promised yourself that you wouldn't get entangled in what ifs, so your friend's teasing wasn't helping you keep those thoughts at bay.

“I told you, he doesn't like me like that. I know he doesn't,” you say, suddenly remembering that night when you overheard him telling Sarah how he felt about you. “Plus, as my agent, you more than anyone know I can't do relationships right now; my life's too busy."

Taylor finished zipping up the last of your bags for the trip and gave you a reassuring smile. "I know, but it doesn't hurt to have a little fun, does it? And who knows—maybe he has changed his mind. Just enjoy the trip and have fun."

No, he hasn’t changed his mind.

“Yeah, I just want to have a good time, really. Things have been so good between us these past couple of months, It just feels...right again. I don’t wanna mess it up.”

"Understandable, bestie. However, I think you’re both making a huge mistake.”

You shake your head in amusement. “Thanks for helping me pack.”

“Thanks?” she scoffs. "I'm expecting a raise."

Santiago, Chile

December 20, 2018

After the chaos of the day leading up to the flight, it was actually a relief to be sitting here. The large, comfortable seat, with your feet tucked up under you as you gazed out the jet window, felt very much deserved.

While the gentle buzz of the flight filled your ears, you laid your head against the window of the plane and watched the clouds and the seemingly endless expanse of sky fly by.

As you began to drift off, you did your best to keep your attention on what was outside the plane rather than allowing your mind to wander to what would await you once you arrived at your destination. The mixture of excitement and exhaustion lulled you into a peaceful slumber, dreaming of the journey that lay ahead.

•••

The taxi ride from the airport to the Balmaceda-Pascal's was a blur of unfamiliar sights and sounds, but you couldn't help feeling a sense of wonder and curiosity as you took in the new surroundings. As the car comes to a stop in front of the house, you shoot Pedro a quick text.

You: I'm here, tonto.

Pedrito: I'll be right outside, tonta.

Since you still had a few things to attend to in New York, he had arrived two days earlier. After insisting like a madman that he could pick you up from the airport and you insisting like a madwoman that you could easily get there on your own, he gave up and let you take a cab.

The driver has already gotten out of the car to wrestle the luggage from the trunk. You clamber out after him into the brilliant sunlight, the heat instantly making your travel outfit—which consisted of a pair of black leggings, a sweatshirt, and Pedro's Freaky Tales green hoodie—feel suffocatingly thick. The change in temperature is a shock to your system, having just come from New York's freezing climate.

“Hey you!” Pedro's booming voice interrupts your thoughts, “Nice hoodie. Where'd you get it?”

“Um, someone left it at my place a while ago, and I decided to keep it. It's really comfy.”

Pedro smiles and nods, "It suits you. You should wear it more often."

“Thanks, but not here,” you tell him, your face flushing from the heat. ”It's burning hot."

“Welcome to Chile, where it's scorching hot during the winter and freezing cold during the summer,” he says in a joking tone, as he tucks a strand of loose hair behind your ear. “Let's get inside, it's cooler.”

The moment you stepped into the house, you were greeted by a refreshing blast of air conditioning. The house was lovely. You take in the Mediterranean decor style and the large windows that let in natural light as you look around. On either side of the foyer, stone archways lined the way up two stories to an ornate ceiling.

As you make your way to the living room, you catch a glimpse of the various family pictures that adorn the walls. The living room was spacious and inviting, with plush couches and a fireplace that made you feel right at home.

Dropping your bags next to the stairs that led to the second floor, Pedro places a hand in your back and gestures you towards a hallway, “C'mon, everyone is out back.”

At the back of the house, tangled trees press close, the forest extending as far as you can see, and off to the left, in the meadow, a gazebo adorned with wild grapes stands within a smaller thicket of trees. Bright glass-shard wind chimes and cutesy bird feeders swing in the branches, and the path cuts past a row of flowering bushes before curving onto a footbridge and then disappearing into the mountains on the far side.

It's like something out of a storybook. Charming, picturesque, and perfect.

“You're here!” A familiar voice drew your attention back to earth. “And right on time. How was your flight?”

Pedro's sister, Javiera, lit up with a smile as she hugged you tightly. You returned the embrace, grateful for her warm welcome. "It was long, but good nonetheless," you replied with a smile.

“Well, if it isn't the infamous best friend I keep hearing about?” you turned around to see Pedro's father approach you with a friendly smile on his face.

"Yup, that's me," you reply, extending your hand for a handshake.

"I'm glad to finally meet you," he says, shaking your hand. "Pedro talks about you all the time."

“I hope good things,” you chuckle, “and it's great to finally meet you too, Mr. Balmaceda.”

“Oh, please call me José,” he tells you, waving his hands. Just like his son, you notice that José has a warm and welcoming personality, making you feel at ease. “And please, make yourself feel at home; we're thrilled to have you.”

“No, he's thrilled to have a world famous superstar staying at his house,” Nicolás, Pedro's brother, retorts back at his father. Making everyone laugh and leaving you feeling a bit embarrassed.

"Oh, I don't know about being a superstar," you say lowly.

“Are you kidding?" Nicolás cuts you off as he takes a seat, "Don't be modest. It's literally an honor to have you here."

“Yeah, you're sooo cool,” Javiera's older son added.

"Okay, alright, that's enough." Javiera must have noticed your embarrassed expression. She reached out to you and held you by the shoulders, reassuring you. “Let's not overwhelm her with too much praise. Let's give her some space, she must be tired."

And she was right. The almost 12 hour flight has left you feeling exhausted, jet lagged, and in need of a very long nap.

"Vamos princesa, I'll take you to your room." Pedro turned around and led the way towards the room while you followed him closely, trying to keep your eyes open and fighting the urge to just collapse on the floor.

As you reached the second floor, your attention was drawn back to the house. “This place is so gorgeous, P.”

“We got it a couple of years ago. We wanted something a little bit bigger so we could have everyone over for vacations, and we also wanted something that felt like home, you know?”

“I love it,” you tell him.

“This is your room,” he says, jerking his chin at the door on the right, “and this is mine.”

He opens the door to the room on the left. His room, much like mine, is absolutely huge. The bed is along the wall immediately to your right as you enter, a recklessly comfortable looking king size bed doused under the weight of a fluffy duvet and an insane amount of pillows.

The bedding is bright white and contrasts sharply with the dark wooden floorboards. "Your bed looks like a big fluffy cloud," you say, giggling.

"It feels like one," he says, smiling. He can tell what you're thinking by the look in your eyes,"Go on, I know you want to."

Like a little kid, you start running towards the bed, feeling the softness of the plush carpet under your feet. As you sink into the bed, you realize that it's even more comfortable than it looks, and you can't help but let out a contented sigh.

“P, I’m never moving again,” you say, your voice drifting over to him.

"Ha. You’ll have to.”

“Hmm, why exactly?” you turn over onto your stomach and lean against your elbows to face him.

"Because it's my bed," he simply states, "and I have plenty of plans that don't include you spending the entire trip in my bed."

Bravery takes over, and you give him a playful smirk. "Well, I guess I'll just have to make sure those plans change then."

He chuckles and shakes his head, “Good luck with that, sweetheart.”

You know this is cruel. You were torturing yourself. Being so optimistic was cruel, but because of your longing and deep, hidden desires, you couldn't help but indulge in silly fantasies and play along.

“Alright, I'll go to mine,” you say with a forced smile as you get off the bed, trying to hide the disappointment in your voice. “I need to nap right now, or I'll die.”

“I will, uh, come get you for dinner later.”

“Sure, boss,” you tell him, patting him on the shoulder as you walk past him to leave the room.

“Sweet dreams.”

In the past four days, you've learned many things.

First, Chile was sickeningly beautiful. The vibrant colors of the buildings and the breathtaking scenery of the Andes Mountains made you feel like you were in a dream. It spread out beneath you like a patchwork quilt, with each square representing a different aspect of its culture and history. From the bustling city streets to the serene beaches.

The food was also a highlight, and you're pretty sure you gained a few pounds from indulging in the delicious local cuisine.

“Here, try this one.”

“That's the biggest empanada I've ever seen in my life,” you exclaimed as you took a bite of the savory pastry, filled with juicy meat and vegetables. “This is so fucking good.”

Pedro chuckles. “It's filled with a mixture called Pino.”

“Okay, forget the manjar. This,” you say, mouth full, “is my new favorite thing in this country.”

Pedro gasps. “I thought I was your favorite thing in this country.”

You grin and give him a playful nudge. "Okay, fine. You're still my favorite, but this empanada might take the top spot."

“That's better,” you look up at him, trying not to melt then and there at the signature wide grin spread across Pedro's gorgeous face. “But you know, there's still plenty of time for me to prove that I deserve the top spot.”

You chuckle at his remark, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "We'll see about that, Pascal," you reply, taking another bite of the delicious empanada and secretly hoping he succeeds in his mission.

•••

Second, Pedro's family were the warmest hosts you could have imagined, eager to share their traditions and stories with you. They accepted you as one of their own and made you feel like a member of the family.

They took you on various adventures throughout the city, showing you hidden gems that only locals knew about. The tradition of taking a trip to a hiking site outside the city whenever all of them got together was in motion and this year it was the Valley of the Moon's turn.

“That hike was so worth it, guys," Nico says, a little out of breath from climbing up the steep trail.

Damn right, it was. As you're standing atop a giant sand dune, you're bewildered by what you're witnessing. The view as the sun slips below the horizon is out of this world. The ring of volcanoes and surreal lunar landscapes of the valley are suddenly suffused with intense purples, pinks, and golds. It's the most beautiful sunset you've ever seen.

You quickly grab the camera that's hanging around your neck and start taking pictures, trying to capture the breathtaking moment before it fades away. “Guys, get together!” you shout, “A family photo with this stunning backdrop is a must.”

As you finish taking the pictures, Pedro's voice breaks the silence, “Javi, grab the camera and take one of us, please.”

You comply and hand the camera to her. Pedro sneaks a hand around your waist and pulls you close, “Smile, princesa.”

“Don't tell me what to do," you playfully retort, leaning into him and smiling for the camera.

•••

And third, Pedro has always had a thing for theatrics. Today, some of you decided to take a trip to the beach. The heat was unbearable, and the cool ocean water sounded like the perfect way to beat it.

He would often come out of the ocean dramatically, splashing water all around and pretending to be a sea monster to scare his nephews. As soon as he saw the waves, he ran towards them and jumped into the water with a loud roar. His nephews laughed and cheered him on as he swam towards them, pretending to be a giant creature ready to attack.

After spending most of the day in the water, you were sitting down on the sand, attempting to make sand castles with one of Pedro's cousins. The sound of waves crashing against the shore was soothing, making you feel relaxed. “My god, he's like a kid,” you tell her, looking at Pedro as he continued to play with his nephews, now closer to the shore.

She laughs. “He's always been like this. As a child, he was always playful and energetic, and he never lost that spirit as he grew up. It's one of the many things we love about him."

The sandcastle you were working on was slowly starting to take shape. Pedro's cousin continued to build it and tell you stories about him, letting nostalgia wash over you.

She told you about his grandfather and how he used to take them to watch double features of old movies, and how that heavily influenced Pedro's love for storytelling and cinema. You didn’t know him then, and you'll never understand why it feels like you did. “But you know, one of my absolute favorite memories is when he recited Hamlet here on the beach with Grandpa."

“Actually, it was Death of a Salesman, cousin.”

His voice startles you as you turn to see him standing behind you, a small smile on his face. "I do remember that day," he continued as he lowered himself onto the sand behind you, legs on each side of your body. He places a hand on your thigh for a brief moment as he settles behind you before removing it.

You want nothing more than to reach out and put his hand back on you, to insist he keep touching you but you don’t.

He starts helping you with the sandcastle, and your breath catches in your throat as you feel his familiar warmth spread through your body. Droplets of water from his hair fall onto your warm skin, and the small elephant tattoo on his right inner thigh catches your eye as he reaches for a shovel, "I was about 14 years old. I videotaped it but lost the fucking camera on the trip back to the States.”

“Damn, I would've loved to see that.”

He chuckles in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “Maybe I can reenact it for you.”

“Please do.”

•••

Pedro suggested you two go outside and stargaze with a glass of wine after returning from the beach. The evening summer breeze was much cooler than the daytime breeze. You were both sitting on the back porch, leaning back on the cushioned chair, the wooden floor creaking under your weight.

“Want me to open another bottle, princesa?”

“Are you trying to get me drunk, Pedrito?”

You can't help but stare as Pedro throws back his head, a bellowing laugh escaping him into the quiet night air. His eyes crinkle at the corners, and he shakes his head, still chuckling. "No, I just want to make sure you're enjoying yourself. And if that means another bottle of wine, then so be it."

He reaches for your glass, hands touching briefly, and pours you some more. Even in the dark, the blinding white of his smile and the twinkle in those achingly beautiful brown eyes are impossible to miss.

With the moon low in the sky, his silhouette was even clearer to you: the way the bridge of his nose dips into the top of the large glass, the delicate hold of his fingers on the stem, and the mess of his hair.

Cicadas screamed into the night air as the taste of the rich, velvety wine danced on your tongue. Now, slightly tipsy on the red wine, you were nearly too lost in your memory of the moment to notice that Pedro had turned his head from above to look at you. Clearly, your staring had captured his attention, but you went to stare resolutely at the night sky again.

He sobered quickly, but his eyes never left you. You felt the weight of his lingering stare and were thankful that the darkness of the night and warmth of the fire covered your suddenly flushed cheeks. “Excited for Christmas tomorrow?” you ask softly, trying to break the tension with a light-hearted question.

“Yes,” he replied with a small smile, "but I'm more excited that you get to spend it with us."

A warmth filled your chest, and if your cheeks weren't already blushing already, they certainly were now, but you wouldn’t look away from him. The meaning wasn’t lost on you. “Thank you for inviting me, really. I thought I was going to be sad, but you guys have made me feel at home."

Pedro frowns. “What do you mean? About being sad.”

“I kind of hate this season now because it reminds me how lonely I am,” you chuckle, gripping the wine glass slightly tighter. “And don't get me wrong, I love my family and my friends, but after you spend years with someone, Christmas just feels different without them around, you know? It's like...” you trail off, trying to put into words the feeling of emptiness that lingers within you. “Like there's a void that can't be filled no matter how many people are around you. And-and it's not like I miss that person in particular, I just miss having someone.”

His unblinking eyes hadn’t left yours, and you continued, feeling vulnerable but also relieved to finally get that out of your system. “I know it sounds silly, but I think it’s just a reminder that things change. you meet people and you love them, and then you lose them. It's inevitable, and it happens to everyone.”

It falls quiet between you again, the familiarity of the years of friendship meaning you are both comfortable with it. The weight of what you just said still hangs heavy in the air until he nods slowly, breaking the silence. “I get it. I feel the same way somehow,” you tear your eyes away from the constellations above to stare at him quizzically, a raised eyebrow telling him to elaborate.

He huffs out a laugh, as if he's amused by your confusion or embarrassed by his own vulnerability, and continues, “I guess that's one of the reasons why I don't date. I'm saving myself from that.”

“Yeah, I guess now I am too,” you respond, nodding in understanding.

"Also, not to sound like an arrogant asshole—"

“Which you probably will anyway,” you add in a playful tone.

“Ha, ha. Very funny,” he says mockingly. “But my schedule is busy, if I wanna be involved in something, I want to pay attention to it and nurture it. It takes energy to be with someone.”

“It's not arrogant, it's the truth. I was telling Taylor the same thing the other day,” you tell him. “I can't date because I don't have the time to, but...”

“But what?” Pedro interrupts.

“Don't rush me, dude,” you chuckle. “But I'm also human, and I have needs sometimes, and it sucks that I can't just go to a bar like a regular person and sit on the barstool, have a drink, and wait for someone to approach me so we can go to their place and have sex and forget about it the next morning,” you finally admit, staring down at your finger swirling over the rim of your glass.

“No strings attached," he adds, his voice scratchy. “I, um, ha. I wish I could do that too. You're not alone.”

“Hooking up with someone like that in our world would involve lots of NDAs,” you say, laughing.

“Oh yes, very romantic stuff.”

His eyes were doing the thing, the Pedro thing, and you did your best to ignore the way your heart lurched. The moment was charged with tension, and you both knew that there was more to say, and since neither of you dared to break the silence, someone else decided to break it for you, clearing their throat loudly and making you both jump. You turn to see Javiera standing by the door, looking amused and a little bit smug.

"I just wanted to let you guys know the rest of us are going out for dinner, in case you're interested in joining us," she said, her eyes flickering between the two of you. “Uh, no. Thanks, I'm beat. The wine has made me sleepy.”

“I'm gonna have to pass too, sis,” Pedro tells her. “You guys have fun.”

“Yeah, you too,” she says with a sly smile. “We'll be back late!”

After she leaves, you stand up and stretch your arms, feeling the effects of the wine yourself. “Woah. Too much wine,” you chuckle. “I should head to bed now before I regret it in the morning.”

“Me too,” he breathes out as he gets up, collecting his glass and yours. "Goodnight, princesa," he adds with a smile before you head towards the door. “Goodnight, P.”

•••

As soon as you entered your room, you immediately hopped in the shower, hoping to wash away the exhaustion from the day and also the dirty thoughts that had been lurking in your mind.

The warm water cascading down your body helped ease the tension in your muscles, and you let out a contented sigh. After a few minutes, you stepped out and changed into fresh clothes.

As you lie in bed, the conversation you had an hour before with Pedro seems to replay in your mind.

I wish I could do that too. You're not alone.

You promised yourself you wouldn't cross that line again. The last time you took that black, bold line and made it gray, it came with consequences. But you're not known for making the best decisions when it comes to these matters anyway.

You start to feel anxious and restless, unable to quiet your thoughts or fall asleep.

Perhaps a glass of water will help.

As you walk out of the bedroom, everything is dark, meaning everyone is still out for dinner. You have only the soft glow of the city outside the large windows to guide your way.

Hesitating as you walk through the hallway towards the stairs, you slow your steps, not entirely trusting your eyes to keep you from running into anything in the dark, unfamiliar space in such low light. Before you reach the stairs, you notice the light underneath Pedro's room, casting a faint glow onto the hallway carpet.

He's still up, you thought.

Before you even realized what you were doing, you were heading toward his room.

“Pedro?” you call out his name as you gently knock on the door, “You up?”

“Bathroom! Come in!” he screams. You reach the doorknob and push it open. The sound of water running fills your ears as you step inside. You plop down sideways on his bed, legs dangling off the edge, and wait for him to finish his shower. The chilly night air seeps in through the slightly open door of his balcony, making you shiver.

“Can't sleep?” His voice is soft and soothing as he walks out of the bathroom, toweling his hair dry and wearing only black boxers. You avert your gaze, trying to ignore the way just looking at his face, with his golden skin from all the sun exposure, the shadow of dark scruff on his cheeks, and his brown eyes crinkled by a soft smile, makes your heart race.

“Nope,” you mumble. “Too much on my mind, I guess.”

“Enlighten me, please,” he quickly replies, returning to the bathroom. You get off the bed, take a deep breath, and try to compose yourself, but the sight of him in those boxers makes it difficult. You know that if you start talking about what's really on your mind, things might get even more complicated between the two of you.

“Uh...” you huffed out a laugh as the scenario played in your head, your legs almost giving out as you felt your guts twisting. Your mouth fell slightly agape as he stepped back into the room, “What's so funny?” he inquired. You fidget with your fingers and look at him, still chuckling a bit, “That conversation we had earlier. I can't stop thinking about it,"

Pedro leaned against the bathroom door, his face puzzled, reflecting that he had no idea which of the many conversations you two had today you were referring to. “The one about hooking up, I mean. And how you wish you could do that too," you continue, not bothering to try and hide the small beginnings of a smile from Pedro's watchful gaze, entirely more interested in testing the waters than anything else.

“Oh?” is all Pedro gives by way of a reply, not that you mind much since that works just as well as a real answer theoretically could. “Oh," you confirm. This could go either way, but as of right now, you're willing to take the risk.

His gaze is fixed on you, and you go back to lying on the bed, closing your eyes as if you're bracing for the impact of the unknown. “I was wondering if—and I might be making a complete fool of myself by saying this—but what if...” you trail off. "What if we..?” you can't bring yourself to finish the sentence, suddenly realizing that once you say it, you can't take it back.

“Fucked?” he interrupts, and your eyes shoot open, surprised by his bluntness. You sit up on the bed, heart racing as you try to gather the courage to speak. “I mean, we-we know each other, and we're both horny, and we wouldn't have to sign any NDAs,” you joke, trying to lift the weight off the air.

"That's true," Pedro quips quickly, though any hint of eagerness in his reply is tempered by the softness of his voice. You feel the blush that rises in your cheeks at the implication in his words and you look away, seemingly breaking the trance you’ve been in. “Okay.”

“Okay?” you repeat, dumbfounded.

“Would you rather have me say no?” he chuckles, crossing his arms as he leans one shoulder into the doorframe and deciding that for now he’ll stay where he is, knowing he looks like a smug jerk but unable to help himself.

“No!” you tell him, rather eagerly. “I mean, of course you can say no. We don't have to do this if you're not into it,” you add softly.

He says your name and looks into your eyes, "My answer's yes.”

“Okay, but I have some rules,” you get off the bed, body tensed with anticipation. “Of course you do,” Pedro says, arching his eyebrow and giving you a knowing smile.

“No feelings. This can only happen while we're here. Once we go back to our normal lives, this never happened,” you tell him. He nods, taking a slow step forward and then another, and although there’s still a great deal of space between the two of you, you can feel the tension building. "Also, we can't tell anybody about this, not even our closest friends,” you continue.

He's closer now, feeling his breath on your face, and his hands find their way to your waist. "It's our little secret," he whispers, and you grab his shoulders to steady yourself.

“And no nicknames. No princesa, no baby, no love,” you try to sound stern but your voice betrays the excitement you feel.

He grins mischievously, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “But there's no fun in that.”

“Fine. You can call me whatever you want,” you give in, finding his amusement endearing.

“Well, that was easy,” he chuckles, his grin widening. “Are you done with your rules?”

“Yes, I guess so,” you stammered, feeling a bit embarrassed for being so easily swayed by his charm.

“Good,” he says, and you feel a shiver run down your spine as he leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “So I can start doing this,” he whispers, his hand sliding down your pajama shorts, sending a wave of goosebumps across your skin. "And this," he adds, as his lips press against your neck.

When you finally make yourself let go and stop fighting for some false sense of restraint for even one second longer, you notice that something changes in the way Pedro touches you, as if he's more confident and sure of himself.

His free hand moves up to hold the back of your head to hold you in place. You do the same, your hands finding their way to his broad shoulders for support. The tip of his finger under your shorts traces over where you’re slick and too ready for him. His mouth is tantalizingly close to yours, brown eyes staring into yours, pining and desperately waiting. “Can I?” he asks.

It's humorous and sweet even that he's asking permission to kiss you when one of his hands is already under your pants. Every rational thought disappears, and you crush your mouth against his.

Everything is slow and heavy, and he never lets his finger slide into you even when you silently beg for it. Just dragging it over and back—too little and too much all at the same time.

He presses the pad of his finger into your clit, and you have to break away from his mouth to groan, overwhelmed, knees wobbly. Pedro laughs quietly and nuzzles against your neck so his beard scruffs.

“Mi princesa,” he whispers against your neck, kissing it softly, “you make such pretty sounds."

There is a real chance you could spontaneously combust into flames just from the sound of his voice and his sweet nothings. He continues to draw circles on your clit making you moan and writhe in pleasure, feeling like you're about to explode with ecstasy. As he whispers more sweet words in your ear, you can't help but surrender to the intense sensations he's giving you.

“Is that good?” he asks, his voice rough, “Does that feel good?”

“Yes," you whisper, a hand traveling to his hair, tugging it tightly. “Yes.”

Just when you're about to come undone, he suddenly stops. Your eyes quickly find his for some explanations as to why he decided to put on hold the very satisfying and impending orgasm that was building up within you. “Oops,” he simply states, a grin plastered on his face.

“I fucking hate you,” you whine, pulling away from him. “I was so close! What you do that for?”

"I have some rules, too."

“Now?” you ask him, clearly frustrated with his antics. “Well, go on.”

“Actually, it's just one,” Pedro says, arching his eyebrows and giving you a knowing smile. His reaction is met by narrowed eyes, like you’re making sure to watch him closely until you figure out where exactly he’s going with this. "You do as I say. Which also means you come when I say."

“Sounds—” you're regaining your footing, regaining control over yourself, trying to reinstate some power, but the way he just said those words has taken away any sense of authority you thought you had. His voice is commanding, with no room for compromise or disobedience. “Sounds dangerous, but... alright.”

“Good girl, now get on the bed,” he says, and the timbre of his voice nearly kills you then and there, the dropping pitch making the words come out rough and serious. Pedro still sounds like himself, since his normal voice is more than enough to make you a little weak at the knees on a regular day, this new variant is a completely different monster.

You lay there, waiting for his next instruction, as the shadows danced on the walls and the sound of his footsteps echoed in the silence. Once he reaches the bed and fists his hands in the sheets on either side of your thighs, bending down until he’s face to face with you, your eyes level with his. You let your hands roam over his broad shoulders and down his torso, feeling his tense muscles relax under your touch.

“I need you now, P,” you mumble, and you move your hand lower to hold him through his boxers. He twitches into you.

“What did I say?” his dark eyes are fixed on you as he reaches for your hand and pins it above your head. "I don't think you fully understand the consequences of disobeying me. We'll do this my way," he whispers menacingly.

This dark side of Pedro is one you've never seen before. The Pedro you know is a sunshine. However, the man on top of you right now is a completely different person, and you're more than the ready to get to know him.

“Keep your hands above your head. No touching."

Your body is aching for him, all willing and open, but he’s sliding down you, pushing your shorts down as he goes. His soft hands trace your thighs and stops at your knees, “Open up for me.”

"So pretty," he says, voice thick. You look down to see his face, pupils blown wide. “Can't wait to taste you, baby.”

You're a wreck. A writhing, moaning, shaking wreck. Shit. You don't even need to be looking at his face to know how arrogant he is right now, not that you could—it's buried deep inside between your thighs. You're desperate to grab his hair just to see where misbehaving will take you, but you settle for the headboard.

He kisses your cunt, messy and hot. A groan rumbles in his throat and he moves his tongue in circles, exploring every inch of your wetness. You arch your back, lost in pleasure, as he continues to devour you with his mouth. When you look down again, his brown eyes are staring back at you as his fingers slide into you, finding the right spot in milliseconds. It's fucking game over.

His pace increases as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, perfectly coordinated with his tongue and his goddamn nose. “Pedro...” you whimper, out of breath. “P-Please let me cum."

“Not yet, baby," he chuckles, fingers continue to expertly tease and stroke your sensitive areas, bringing you closer and closer to the edge of orgasm. "I know you can hold it for a little longer,” you cry out, gripping the bedsheets as you desperately try to move your hips to ride his fingers. Your eyes are watering slightly from how good he’s making you feel.

“You can cum now.”

Every part of your body spasms, and you scream, everything buzzing and vibrating as you tighten around him, bucking and thrashing, pleasure and electricity flooding your body. Removing his fingers, he starts kissing the inside of your thighs, all the way up to your belly and lips. As you try to catch your breath, he whispers in your ear, "That was just the beginning. I want to make you cum again and again."

You can tell Pedro loves the way your face heats up at his words. “Please do,” you tell him, grabbing the waistband of his boxers, and your wandering hands are met by bare, warm skin and the short, neatly cropped hair that grows thicker the further down your fingers dare to venture.

“I know you said you're in charge, but I really need you to take this off,” you say, losing your ability to wait for orders. To your surprise, he complies and gets off the bed, slides down his boxers, just as you get rid of your t-shirt. You can't help but admire the sight of him fully exposed and ready for you, moving to the drawer to pull out a condom, tearing the packet and rolling it onto himself.

“You can take a picture, it'll last longer."

“Don't get cocky.”

Pedro settles between you once again, and you grab his face. His eyes glistened, his hot breath on your skin as he leans in closer. Your thumb brushes against the tiny white scar on his nose. “You've marked me forever,” he chuckles, as he cradles your head and kisses you, his nose brushing against yours.

You grab his length and give him a slow, steady stroke from base to tip, then back down. His mouth leaves yours as his dick twitches in your firm grasp, causing him to groan involuntarily. The pace of your hand up and down his length never picking up or slowing down, instead maintaining the same teasingly slow pace.

“Are you sure?” he whispers softly.

“Yes.”

Pedro guides himself over you, the head of his cock slipping over where you’re open, up to rub on your clit so your fingers dig into his shoulders. His nose nudges gently against yours, “I'll be gentle, princesa.”

“I don't want you gentle. I want you rough.”

“Is that so?”

You moan, eyes closing. You can't even remember how to breathe, let alone speak. Pedro pushes only his head into you, opening you before pulling out, leaving you contracting around nothing. “I'm going to fuck you roughly, and you'll take it like a good girl, won't you?”

“Yes, P,” you rasp, hands sliding across his back. He's playing with you and knows how to make it almost unbearably good. He pushes deeper into you this time, and you can feel your body resist, protesting that he's too big, too much, and he pulls out. He drags his cock over where you're slick and messy before thrusting forward as far as he can. Your nails sink into his broad shoulders, back arching and pushing your stomach into his. "Oh my God.”

“You feel so fucking good, baby. Like you're made for me."

Your legs wrap around his hips, ankles crossing at the bottom of his back, to keep him there, deep inside you. His head drops to your shoulders, pressing his lips to your collarbone. You're close, again.

“Please...” you beg, moaning like you've lost all sanity, his mouth pulls away slightly, his breath hot against your skin. "Please what?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

“More, please, I need more."

The way Pedro's fucking you right now borders on dangerous, making you question lots of things—things you'd rather not think about right now, as he reaches for your hand and places it on your lower stomach. “Feel that?”

You're not sure who moans louder: you when you realize why he's put your hand here, or Pedro when your walls clench involuntarily around his cock at the sensation. Your entire body tightens as you cry out, coming undone once again.

He presses his lips against your forehead and rolls you over, his cock still buried inside you.

“Pedro…that was…” you pant, body on top of his. “Did you come?”

He smirks. “Not yet, because you're gonna ride me now.”

Despite the fact that your body is weak and spent, the simple thought of being on top of him is enough fuel to make you feel a surge of energy. You straddle his hips, feeling his hardness against you, and sinking down on his dick.

“Like this?” you ask as you begin to move your body in sync with his, Your hips swirl and grind down, and Pedro's face is filled with pleasure. “Yes, mi amor. Just like that.”

Every rock of your hips and the way Pedro's pushing into you are the perfect rhythm. His hands grip your hips so tight, you're pretty sure it'll leave bruises for days. You lean down, his mouth close by your ear, as he fucks into you, hearing him whisper things only you get to hear. “you feel so good, baby, taking my cock so fucking well.”

Everything is so overwhelming—your body responding to his every thrust and word. It's a moment of pure ecstasy, and you never want it to end. Collapsing onto his chest, your fingers reach up to grip his hair. The satisfying sound of slapping skin echoes through the room, and you're suddenly glad there's no one in the house.

Pedro slaps your ass as you're still rocking back against his thrust. “You're gonna cum for me again, baby?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” you moaned as your body trembled with pleasure, mouth crashing into his, squeezing him so tight he can't hold back, and you feel him spill into the condom. He curses out your name as he's twitching and spasming inside you.

The post-sex haze settles over you both as you lay there, catching your breath and basking in the afterglow. After a couple of minutes, Pedro finally slips out of you and heads to the bathroom. You manage to get up, body aching. As you gather your clothes from the floor and dress up, he emerges from the bathroom, his face puzzled.

“What are you doing?”

You chuckle, “Leaving.”

Of course you didn't want to leave, but since you agreed this was just sex and nothing more, staying sounds like a dangerous situation.

There's no need to make this situation more complicated than it already is, even if you gaslight yourself into thinking this is fine as long as you're both on the same page.

“No,” he interjects. “Stay.”

“Pedro, we said—"

“I know what we said, but stay. Just for tonight.”

You give him a warning look, and he gives you the same look back. “It'll make me feel dirty if you leave." you burst out laughing, and his face turns red. How's this the same man that just minutes ago was whispering the filthiest things into your ear?

“Okay, I'll stay.”

The next morning, you woke up to an empty bed and no signs of Pedro. If you weren't lying on his bed, legs hurting like you ran a marathon, and your body wrapped in his warm blankets, you would have thought it was all a dream. Because in your dreams is the only place you are together, it's where you come home to him and he comes home to you.

You could still feel his hands moving over your skin, his breath on your neck, and the way he whispered in your ear, making you feel like the most loved person in the world.

Except it wasn't lovemaking; it was just sex.

The warmth of the hot chilean sun spilled through the bedroom window, casting a golden glow on the walls and illuminating the dust particles that danced in the air. The distant sound of soft music and laughter from downstairs made you smile as you sat up against the headboard.

The sound of the door opening interrupted your thoughts, and you looked up to see Pedro wearing the coziest looking sweater, his dark hair all over the place, and presumably a cup of coffee in his hand. “Good morning, solecito,” he says sitting down next to you. "I made you a cup of coffee, just the way you like it."

You take the cup from his hand, fingers touching. “It can't possibly still be morning,” you rasp, voice still hoarse.

“No, it's not," he tells you. “It's 2:30pm.”

The fear in your face is palpable. “Fuck, did I miss the gift exchange?” you blurt out.

Pedro's pursed lips and guilty expression made it clear that you, in fact, missed the happiest time of the day. “No...” you dragged out, “Why didn't you wake me up?!” you demanded, hitting him on the shoulder.

“I didn't want to disturb your sleep, you looked so peaceful," he replied with a sheepish grin. "But if it makes you feel better, everyone loved what you got them."

You groan in response. “I hate you so much.”

“Are you always this mean when you wake up?"

You shrug, bringing the cup to your lips. “Eh, only when I have to deal with people who make me miss the fun part of Christmas."

“Let's talk about how my dad got the better gift, by the way,” he tells you, moving his hands energetically. “And how I'm definitely not jealous at all.”

“I had to impress him, and you can never go wrong with a Rolex,” you remark with a grin. “Plus, you deserve it after doing the most evil thing you could do to me.”

“You mean caring for your wellbeing and letting you rest after the very... eventful night you had?” he says teasingly. “Shut up,” you reply, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at him. In true Pedro fashion, he dramatically dodges the pillow and grins slyly, "You can't silence me that easily."

“I have other ways,” you quickly reply.

Oh, how you love to play with fire.

Pedro raises an eyebrow and chuckles, “Is that so?”

You hum. The tension is palpable in the air as you look into his eyes, trying to read his face. You wonder if he can hear the rapid beating of your heart.

“Wanna see what I got you?” he asked, breaking the silence that had settled, his eyes still on you.

“Dying to,” you say, pretending not to notice how he changed the subject, setting the coffee mug on the nightstand, “but first I need to shower before I go downstairs.”

“No need,” he reaches for his front pocket, pulling out a small wrapped package. You eagerly take it from him, eyes lighting up with excitement.

“Espero que te guste.”

Tearing the paper off and opening the black box, you find a beautiful necklace with a delicate gold chain and a small emerald pendant. “Now I feel like an asshole,” you say, immediately regretting getting him a bunch of funny socks. Your eyes are still fixed on the necklace.

Pedro laughs, your favorite sound in the world, “Hey, I love my socks. You didn't have to get me so many though,”

“I didn't know which ones you'd like better, so I got you a bunch of ‘em,” you say, a hint of embarrassment in your voice. “This is so beautiful,"

“It's your favorite gemstone," he says softly, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Your eyes meet his, and for a split second, everything is okay.

You rush forward to embrace him, catching him off guard by the way he chuckles and says oh. He wraps his arms tightly around you, and you nuzzle into his neck, feeling the soft fabric of his sweater and the familiar scent of his cologne. “Thanks so much, P,” you say, voice drowning on his skin.

“Merry Christmas, mi amor."

No strings attached, spontaneous, fun, and only while you're here. That's what you and Pedro agreed upon when you decided to have sex five nights ago. But the way he has you pinned against the shower wall and making your legs tremble with pleasure right now has you thinking of a way to make him not want to do this with anyone else.

The slick, wet sounds of Pedro's fingers pumping in and out of you filled the bathroom as you moaned in bliss. “Can you be a good girl for me and be quiet?” his nose brushes against yours, “We don't want them to hear us, do we?”

You shake your head, blown away, feeling suffocated, as he drags two fingers over your swollen clit. Your jaw sags as the pleasure floods your body as he applies more pressure to it, causing you to grumble in pleasure. As two fingers slide into you, deliciously stretching you, he covers your mouth with his, absorbing your satisfied moan.

He pulled his mouth away from yours, and the water slipped through his hair, dampening it and sticking it back on his forehead. "Open your mouth," he says, a glint in his eyes as you look at him, bewildered. He presses two fingers against your tongue and the sweet-salty taste fills your mouth as you suck on his fingers. “See how fucking good you taste.”

You hum, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I need to feel you inside me."

Pedro lets his hand wander around your hips and slowly drags it down, lifting your leg and securing it around his hip. He took the space between your thighs, aligned himself with your entrance, and pushed in, giving you a split second to adjust before pulling out and thrusting back in.

He was moving faster, and you felt like a ragdoll in his arms, so euphoric from your high that he could do whatever the fuck he wanted to you and you'd gladly accept it.

“F-faster, please,”

You've had sex in a variety of positions over the last few days, but there was something about this position and the access it provided that you found incredibly satisfying. His wet, solid chest pressed against yours, his hand tight against your thigh as he buried himself deep within you.

Pedro let out a low groan, one you were all too familiar with by this point, indicating that he was about to finish. His hips trembled and he let out a final grunt, his breaths ragged and heavy as he came inside of you, mouths meeting in a kiss.

The two of you stood there, still in that proximity for a moment, full of love and softness because above all else, he was your best friend.

“Can I wash your hair?”

“Only if you let me wash yours after,” he replies, reaching for the shampoo bottle.

“Deal.”

Since they had a low-key Christmas consisting mainly of hot chocolate, fuzzy sweaters and movies, the family decided to plan a big New Year's Eve celebration to make up for it. Which prompted you to take a quick trip to the city yesterday in search of a dress because you hadn't packed anything fancy.

Pedro insisted that you didn't have to stress over that, to which you obviously objected.

“Sorry, but I'm not taking fashion advice from someone who has like three t-shirts and a pair of jeans,” you said, scrolling through your phone in search of stores. “You wound me, baby,” he replied, putting a hand on his chest in mock pain. “But if you insist on shopping, let me take you.”

“No, you still have to help Javi with the party,” you said, getting up from the the couch. “I'll drive there, and I'll take Pedro and Bruno with me.”

Pedro looked at you slowly, processing your statement, looking uncertain.

“Google Maps is a thing, and we'll be fine. Now give me your keys.”

“I like it when you're bossy,” he said, his voice lowering with a hint of a smile. “They're on the counter."

And thanks to the heavens, you decided to make an effort and find something suitable for the occasion because they went all out.

The bass pounded through the walls as the guests danced and laughed, enjoying the party. The colorful decorations and delicious food made it a night to remember.

“Oh my god, they're gone,” Javiera groans, referring to the tray of now empty lemon bars that were apparently the highlight of the dessert table. “I wanted another one!”

“I made another batch, I hid them in the oven,” you quickly tell her, feeling a little proud of yourself over the fact that people were enjoying what you made. “I'll go get them.”

“I will come with you.”

Once you both reach the empty kitchen, you go straight to the oven, pulling out the tray of lemon bars and setting it on the kitchen island.

“Thank you for taking Pedro and Bruno out yesterday, by the way."

"I had so fun much with them. They're great boys and even better fashion advisers,” you tell her, gesturing to your burgundy dress.

“Glad to know I've taught them well,” she says laughing.

As you cut the bars into perfect squares, Javiera grabs one and takes a bite, savoring the tangy sweetness. "These are amazing, you should consider selling them," she exclaims, closing her eyes in content.

You smile. “In another lifetime, I own a bakery in a small town with a living unit attached to the top. I have a beautiful green kitchen, and I don't feel the need to prove myself to people."

Javiera gives you a warm smile as you grab the powdered sugar. “You know,” she says reluctantly. “I see things and I feel things,” you stop what you're doing to look up at her, confused. “My brother's just scared.”

Confusion is quickly replaced with clarity as you realize where she's going with this. You open your mouth to say something, but she shuts you down. “He's created this wall to protect himself, he's been through a lot, and he has convinced himself that this is enough, that he doesn't need more, but I know better.”

A sigh leaves your lips, all of those feelings bubble up until you can't get a good breath, until you’re drowning. She continues, “I have seen you two together, friends don't look at each other like that."

You know that she's right, but things aren't so simple. Not when it comes to this.

“Maybe in another lifetime," is all you tell her, grabbing the lemon bars and heading out of the kitchen.

•••

The backyard is a wonderland of string lights and bunting, the air is filled with the sound of laughter and music as people dance under the stars. You were lost in conversation with Pedro's father. He shared more stories of his youth, what got him to pursue medicine, and how he met Pedro's late mother, leaving you feeling nostalgic for a time you never knew.

He catches you looking away, follows your gaze straight to Pedro, and smiles knowingly. “I hope you have a good flight tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” you say, blushing a little at your own transparency. “Thank you for everything, really.”

“We hope you come back soon, It was a pleasure to have you,” he tells you, placing a hand on your shoulder, reassuring you. He walks off, pausing for a moment to talk to Pedro. Smiles were exchanged, and then he continued his way.

Pedro looks exceptionally good tonight. Hair perfectly styled, white shirt perfectly stretching over his back. You drink up his movements as he approaches you, a smile plastered on his face.

“Who did your hair?” you ask him, knowing damn well this was someone else's doing because he didn't know how to do it. “My sister,” he replied, chuckling.

“She's doing the Lord's work,” you tell him, folding your arms, feeling exposed by the way he's staring. It's comical that you feel this way, as if he hasn't seen you naked for the past week.

“I'm gonna have to hire someone to do my hair at all times if you like it this much.”

“I like it either way,” you admitted, "but I just think it looks extra good when it's styled like this."

His mouth splits into quite possibly your favorite of his various smiles, the one that makes it look like there's a secret tucked up in one corner of his mouth. “Dance with me?”

“Always.”

You take his hand and pull him to the deck, beneath the twinkling lights and away from the crowd, while the Bee Gees' “How Deep Is Your Love” plays like the universe just wants to mock you. Pedro folds your hand up in his warm palm, and you rest your cheek against his shoulder, closing your eyes to focus on how this feels.

It feels right, it feels perfect, and it feels like it's gonna end.

He nestles his mouth into your hair and breathes you in as you sway. His sister's words ring in your ear once again: My brother's just afraid.

You allow yourself to imagine this feeling lasting. A world within a world just for you and Pedro, where people just let you both be. Where you belong to each other. And then you invite reality forward to change the story.

You're working all day, taking endless flights to different locations, because you're trapped in a cycle of wanting to do more and never feeling like it's enough. Pedro exhausted from long days of shooting, press, taking endless flights, and getting pulled down by gravity.

Unaswered texts. Missed calls. Grief. Hurt. Distance. Missing each other. Fighting. Falling apart.

And you realize you're afraid too and this can never be.

“Pedro.”

There's a lengthy silence. His voice is a raspy, growly mutter. “I know. But don't say it.”

You don't look at each other. You just need to hold on to each other because if you look, you'll see that this make-believe game is over. You both feel the warmth of each other's embrace and the unspoken words between you. The silence is comforting yet suffocating.

His arms squeezed around you as everyone started to countdown. Cheers filled the air. Fireworks broke out over the sky in a thousand different colors. He tells you happy new year, and you say it back, never letting go.

Even though you never said it to each other, you both knew. The love was there, and it didn't change anything.

Maybe in the future, maybe in another lifetime.

Reblog or like if you enjoyed it, thank you for reading :) (i know this ending feels like this is it for them HOWEVER i will be making several other parts because i can't stop writing about this lol)

#love is complicated fic #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal angst #pedro pascal fic #my writing

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reaveries · 1 year

Text

▬ 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐲

gif credit to @robpattinsongifs (much higher resolution on their account)

summary: late-night visits from your definitely human boyfriend

pairings: edward cullen x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k (approximately 7 minutes reading time)

a/n: I’ve had this baby marinating in my drafts since January, when I was going through my bi-annual Twilight Renaissance. I was actually in the middle of writing a RE2R Leon Kennedy fic today and decided to put on a twilight playlist, and then I just knew I had to finish this one. It’s my first *published* non-RDR fic heehee (I have so much in my drafts, it’s insane). Anyways, enjoy (pardners)!

masterlist archive of our own

It’s that dreadful time of year again.

The sun is making its curtain call as students from the nearby elementary school trip over themselves running home. Little girls and boys have sticky remnants of lunch peeking from the corners of their mouths and the grass is still slick from morning showers. But dusk is impatient in February, and its eagerness is encouraged in a town hidden beneath perpetual overcast nine months out of the year.

The school children ran past her window minutes ago when the sky had been painted brilliant indigo. Now, when she looks up the only thing left to see is her own dark reflection and the warm orange glow from a candle on the sill. Its tall flame stutters, collapsing and rising with the damp breeze.

A page turns, disrupting the otherwise quiet room. The only other noise that can be heard is a soft pitter of water dripping onto the floorboards from a coat hanging off the closet door.

She reaches for a mug sitting on the corner of her nightstand and promptly sets it back down upon finding it empty. It returns to its spot atop crumpled receipts and library hold slips belonging to the growing stack of books accumulating dust at her bedside. These books tower over the permanent nightstand residents: lazily discarded beaded necklaces, a sample bottle of floral perfume from Christmas, two little ceramic bunnies purchased from an antique mall in Port Angeles last summer, car keys, and drugstore chapstick. It might be worth convincing her to let go of some of these post-object permanence discoveries, but that is a matter for another time.

In a desperate attempt to comprehend the words she’s reading, she rolls onto her back and extends her arms straight in the air so the book hovers a foot from her face—a change of perspective to freshen the mind.

It does not help.

No matter how much she shifts or squints, the antiquated prose remains stubbornly uninviting. She can’t fathom why anyone would willingly subject themselves to something so archaic and convoluted and furthermore, recommend it as one of their favorite novels.

With a huff, she adjusts the headphones at her ears, hoping the music will clear her mind. But despite her best efforts, the book slowly drifts closer to her chest and her eyelids grow heavier as the music lulls her into a dreamless sleep.

When she wakes to cold fingers grazing her jaw it’s impossible to tell whether she’d fallen asleep or if she just blinked. The weight of the headphones gently disappears as they’re pulled off and set down on the nightstand. She grumbles incoherently and stretches out her legs, not unlike a cat after a long, difficult day of lounging around. Her eyes begrudgingly flutter open and immediately find him only inches away. He’s watching her, peering down with a twinkle in his amber-colored eyes.

“Edward…” she whispers.

“Dracula,” he says, eyebrows raised as he makes the observation. “I thought you didn’t like Gothics.”

She reaches a finger into the book on her chest and folds the page over before tossing it carelessly into the sea of knitted and quilted blankets at the foot of the bed. With the haze of sleep still clouding her eyes, she smiles sheepishly up at him.

“I’m trying.”

He chuckles lightly and brings his hand to her hair again, brushing stray strands off her forehead and tucking them behind her ears before leaning down to place a chaste kiss above her eyes. Though his lips are soft, the icy touch of his skin sends a shiver down her spine. He’s always cold; a result of his anemia, he says. However, the downpour that's dampened his hair and clothes to his skin has chilled him even more so.

In an effort to sit up, she raises herself onto her elbows and catches a glimpse of the bright red digital numbers on her bedside clock.

“You’re late, you know,” she chides, watching him settle uncomfortably at the head of the bed. He sinks down among the pillows, their plushness contrasting humorously with the stiffness of his demeanor. He reaches behind his back and tugs free a stuffed rabbit lodged between him and the headboard, then sets it down softly beside himself.

“I had to make a quick stop. I hope you can forgive me,” he says in a hushed voice, so as not to make too much noise in the resting house. His eyes flit towards the nightstand and she follows them to see a new item sitting amongst the disorder. A tall styrofoam cup with steam rising thinly from the lid. Coffee.

The mug she just finished sits right beside it. She’d considered brewing more but that was before being rendered unconscious by Bram Stoker nearly an hour ago. Her heart swells at his thoughtfulness, but a more pressing question comes to mind before she can voice her gratitude.

“How did you even climb up here with that?” She asks, reaching for the cup with both hands.

“I’m very…agile.” There’s a look in his eyes that tells her there’s more to it, but she chooses to ignore it for now with a shake of her head.

The taste is immediately harsh, significantly more bitter than how she makes it herself. Any trace of a smile dissipates and is replaced with a pronounced look of disgust.

“Good God, Edward,” she exclaims. “Decaf? What did I ever do to you?”

He laughs and takes it from her hands, leaving her still reeling from the unexpected taste. “As much as I love staying up with you, you need sleep,” he says, a hint of sternness in his voice. “You didn’t get any last night and you don’t hide it well.”

He says the last part sweetly, tilting his head to the side and following her motions with his eyes, watching her pick up the stuffed rabbit by its cotton paw.

“Don’t hide it well?” She repeats, the indignation in her voice contrasting with the softness of the toy as she raises it high into the air and brings it down against his chest with a soft thud. “Well maybe I wouldn’t have to hide anything if you—weren’t—keeping—me—up—all—night!”

With every word, the rabbit hits his forearms poorly attempting to shield himself from the blows. Edward grins as she attacks him, the soft toy barely making a sound against his arms. He watches as her hair falls across her face in the midst of the unrelenting attack, the warm glow of the candle casting a soft halo around her.

But then, his amusement fades as he sees the exhaustion in her eyes.

He gently takes the rabbit from her and sets it aside before grabbing her arm mid-swing and pulling her into his chest. She sighs heavily and surrenders, relaxing against him. "I’m sorry," he whispers, his lips brushing against her hair. “I’ll let you rest tonight.”

Despite his tender words, a residual half-baked frustration lingers inside her. “How did you manage to stay awake in class?” she mumbles into his sweater, the words muffled. “I mean, you didn’t get any sleep either.”

He chuckles, as if privy to some inside joke.

“Well, someone had to take your notes for you,” he says, his fingers trailing through her hair in a soothing motion. “And besides, you looked so peaceful drooling away.”

She looks up at him, a hint of a drowsy smile playing at the corners of her lips. “I did not drool,” she insists.

He grins down at her, his eyes alight with fondness. “Of course not.”

She groans and buries her head into his chest, to which he responds by encircling his arms around her waist and pulling her closer.

“I’m never falling asleep in front of you again,” she grumbles.

His chest rumbles beneath her cheek as he laughs. “Alright, angel.”

He shifts his hand from the crown of her head to the curve of her back, tracing languid circles over the fabric of her t-shirt as the room fills with a comfortable silence. The rain outside grows heavier, tapping against the glass with a more insistent force. Her body is warm against his and he can feel the steady thumping of her heartbeat as if it's his own. A few minutes slip by, and he senses her breathing even out and deepen. Without disturbing her, he reaches for a nearby blanket and drapes it over her, then turns his gaze to the candle on the windowsill.

“Sweet dreams,” he whispers, as the dwindling flame fades out of focus.

This is his favorite part of the day.

Vague arrays of soft, muted hues and shapes swirl around in his vision, overtaking the warm surroundings of her bedroom. They morph into recognizable figures after some time, and he can hear them speaking when he focuses. For the most part, they sound as if he’s underwater and they’re conversing on the shore. But every now and then, a clear phrase emerges.

Suddenly, the floating shapes assimilate into a figure resembling him and he realizes what this dream is. It’s a recurring one he’s particularly fond of. He settles in and pulls her closer as the scene ebbs between reality and distortions of the unconscious mind.

He can’t remember how he used to pass the night hours before he met her. Books, records, films--looking back, they feel hollow compared to nights spent like this. Part of him hopes he’ll never know what it's like to want for this. But these dreams, and her thoughts in the waking hours, assure him he won’t ever have to find out.

#twilight #twilight fanfic #edward cullen #edward cullen x y/n #edward cullen x reader #the twilight saga #twilight 2008

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halsteadlover · 6 months

Text

𝐌𝐫. & 𝐌𝐫𝐬. 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝

*Gif and pics not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Jay Halstead x Fem!Reader.

• Requested: no.

• Summary: you and Jay finally got married but even on your weeding day you can’t seem to be able to keep your hands off each other so you sneak out during the party to have a quick rendezvous.

• Warnings: smut (18+), dirty talking, lots of cursing, fingering, oral sex (m. receiving) unprotected sex (don’t be like them fellas!!!), semi-public sex, so much fluff you’ll drown in it.

• Word count: 7800.

• A/N: PLEASE READ THIS ONLY IF YOU’RE 18+ minors stay away. I’m actually shit at writing summaries y’all can tell. I’m so excited for this fic so y’all better eat this up 😭 I really hope you’ll like it, please let me know what you think and comment, like and reblog, it’d mean the world. Stay safe and love you all xx

“And I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

It was surreal.

You and Jay were finally husband and wife and you couldn't believe it.

“I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you,” he had whispered on your lips when you exchanged your first kiss as husband and wife, your heart bursting with joy and happiness.

On the way to the wedding venue Jay did nothing but kiss and caress your ring finger, still in disbelief you really decided to marry him. You were his, forever.

You couldn’t stop grinning.

Everything seemed more beautiful. The colors were brighter, the air cleaner, the sky bluer, the trees greener.

Everyone present including colleagues, friends, family could see how happy you both were, how much you doted on each other, how much you were in love. There wasn’t anyone who hadn't thought at least once how much they would’ve liked to experience a love like yours. So pure, genuine, crazy, overwhelming.

Jay didn't take his eyes or hands off of you for even a second.

He kept looking at you and the more he saw you smiling, laughing, so happy and carefree, the more he couldn't contain his disbelief. God, he would’ve given you the fucking moon if it meant always seeing that smile on your face. You were so unbelievably beautiful especially in that white dress, which hugged your body so perfectly it seemed to be sewn on you.

My wife.

He kept repeating in his mind.

How the hell did he get so lucky?

His hand circled your hips with a firm, possessive grip, while his thumb caressed the fabric of the dress that covered your skin. He couldn’t help but stealing kisses from you from time to time, between a ‘congratulations’ and another, whispering how much he loved you and how fabulous you looked in your wedding dress.

“Did I already tell you how stunning you are, my love?” Jay asked as his eyes ran up and down your body, holding you to him with so much passion and desire you felt like you were dying in his arms.

You both had inaugurated the dance floor by doing the first dance and while those present watched the scene with emotion, some of your relatives took videos with their cell phones, unaware of the things that Jay was whispering to you and just seeing with how much adoration you looked at each other.

You smiled as you talked, slowly swaying to the song’s rhythm, unaware of how much your eyes sparkled as you looked at him. He looked at you with just as much admiration, his cheeks aching from how much he was smiling, his heart exploding with joy. Even someone blind could tell how much that man loved and adored you, how much he venerated you, how much he worshiped the land you walked on.

“You're not half bad either Mr Halstead,” you replied with a cheeky smile, unable to take your eyes off him and how wonderfully the suit he was wearing looked on him “God, I just want to rip your clothes off right now,” you continued, not realizing you had actually said it out loud.

Jay's arms tightened around your hips, pulling you further into his body and trying to hide how that one sentence made him feel. “Baby don't talk to me like that… I'm already trying so hard not to drag you away right now. You really want to make me lose my mind?” He warned you in a low tone, his lips brushing your ear before leaving a soft kiss on your cheek. He then sighed with frustration making you chuckle. “I don't think I can last the whole day.”

The song came to an end before you could respond and before you knew it everybody was drunkly dancing around you.

Your feet were sore as you and Jay danced with friends and relatives and you would’ve paid gold to take off those damned torture machines.

Seriously, why did heels have to hurt so much?

You were hot, sweaty but happy, like you had never been before. Jay wasn't much for dancing so he eventually went to talk to some other guests but he was having the time of his life and couldn’t take his eyes off you as he watched you dance, the way your body moved to the music, the way your curves were hugged by your wedding dress, the the way you sprayed happiness from every pore.

The love he felt for you was so unconditional, powerful and intense in such a way it took the air out of his lungs, it made the blood boil in his veins, it consumed him deeply, burned him from inside.

He had never once in his life felt anything like this, not until he met you. It felt like constantly being punched in the stomach every time you looked or smiled at him, it felt like his heart skipped a beat every time he heard your laugh, making it dance to that melody he couldn't wait to hear for the rest of his life. That kind of love was so profound that even when you were sad or cried, he felt like a piece of him was being ripped out of his body, especially when he couldn’t do anything to make you feel better.

He lived for you, breathed for you only, to a point he couldn’t even function when you weren’t by his side.

“Okay, okay, enough, I'd like to dance with my wife now,” Jay's voice made you turn and you almost tripped over your own feet when your eyes landed on him.

He was standing behind you, looking at you with a gorgeous and mischievous smile on his lips, his hands shoved in the pockets of his suit. He exuded confidence from every pore of his body and you couldn’t even explain how you managed to get that man. He was so charming, so dreamy and insanely hot, he completely took your breath away.

My husband.

Wow. How the hell did I get so lucky?

You smiled at him and the friend you were dancing with raised her hands in surrender. “She’s all yours Halstead but treat her right or I’ll kill you.”

His eyes traveled down your body, running his tongue over his bottom lip after biting it as his gaze devoured you with so much intensity and desire that every cell in your body lit up on fire. “She’s in excellent hands Clara, don't worry.”

“Ugh you’re disgusting. Stop eye-fucking my friend in front of me.”

You laughed as he wrapped an arm around your waist, now looking at Clara. “Can you blame me? C’mon look at her.”

“I’m still here and I can here you, you know,” you intervened, giggling as your arm encircled his hips too.

“I'm watching you Halstead, just remember that,” she warned him with an amused look and pointing her finger at him before walking away and going to grab another drink.

Jay then let you go and turned your body to his, holding out a hand towards you, finally meeting your gaze again. “Would you give me the honor of this dance, Mrs Halstead?”.

The way that name slipped from his lips made you melt like a snowman under the heat of the sun's rays, God how much you loved the way it sounded.

Mrs Halstead. Fuck me.

“The honor is all mine Mr. Halstead,” You grabbed his hand and before you knew it you were already pressed against his chest while his arms wrapped again around your hips possessively, almost as if he was afraid to let you go.

“My gorgeous wife” he whispered while swaying to the rhythm of the music. A rush of shivers ran down your spine forming goosebumps all over your skin. “Do you have any idea how much you drive me crazy? I’m so obsessed with you baby.”

His lips left small, sweet kisses on your lips, making you have a hard time to respond. You giggled as his beard tickled you meanwhile he planted chaste kisses along your cheek and neck. He inhaled your scent deeply, a scent he’d never could live without.

“And I’m so obsessed with you.” You wrapped your arms around his neck as his hands slid down the small of your back, resting chastely on your ass. “You make me so insanely happy Mr Halstead.”

Anyone who saw you two would say you were just a beautiful couple dancing happily on the best day of their lives.

But the things Jay was whispering in your ear were far from innocent, they would’ve made even a porn star blush.

“God I can't wait to take this dress off you,” he had said as your bodies moved in time to the music. He had turned you around, pressing your back against his chest and wrapping his arms around your waist. There was a lively song playing at the moment, the bass so loud you could hear it across the room and you couldn't deny you were grinding against him more sensually than you would other times on purpose.

You couldn't control yourself, not when it came to him.

Jay had the ability to make you give in with just two simple words whispered in your ear. Normally you couldn't keep your hands to yourself for a long time, your sexual chemistry had always been high and this moment was no different. You wanted him so badly you almost forgot you were on the dance floor celebrating your wedding.

You almost moaned when you felt his erection pressed against your ass, hard and sore, repressing the instinct to get on your knees and pull down his pants in front of everyone.

“Baby,” he murmured against your ear, leaving wet kisses on your neck. “God the things I would do to you now…”

Your stomach tightened in a vice as the heat in your lower abdomen continued to expand. “Tell me darling. What would you do to me now?” You replied in a question, pressing your ass further against his dick.

God I hope no one notices.

Jay let out a sigh that went straight to your pussy, making your legs clench in desire. “Fuck please stop, I can't take this anymore,” his arms tightened around your hips even more, as if trying to let out the frustration. He felt like he was exploding and the more you kept grinding against him, so sensually to the music’s rhythm, the more he wanted to rip your dress off and fuck you in front of all the guests.

You turned towards him again, placing your hands on his chest and caressing him slowly and sensually while batting your eyelashes seductively as you looked at him.

Jay thought he’d come in his pants just from the way you were looking at him.

His eyes were now hungrily fixed on your lips, which he wanted so desperately wrapped around his hard dick.

“So?” You urged with a smirk on your lipstick-covered lips. “What would you do to me baby?”.

Jay placed his hands on your face, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. “You really want to know what I would do to my wife right now?”.

You were so desperate you nodded as if you were possessed, God, you would’ve done anything that man asked you. That man that was now your husband.

It's so surreal.

He licked his lips as his eyes moved up and down your body for a moment, quickly but at the same time imprinting every detail of how that dress looked on you in his memory, before returning his eyes to your face and tracing with them the outline of your lips.

“It would be better if I showed her, don't you think?” he whispered against your lips, making you forget again you were in public and not just the two of you.

“Wouldn't it be better if I just showed her the way I would take off her dress and get on my knees for her? Wouldn't it be better if I showed her how much I want and desire her by licking her pussy and every bit and drop of her wetness until her legs tremble? By fucking her so hard until we both forget our names? By being buried so deep inside that sweet little cunt of hers that she’s gonna feel me for days?”.

He pressed his lips on yours in a chaste and sweet kiss, in stark contrast with the things he was saying to you. “And show her how hard I am inside my pants just by looking at her in this dress? Show her how happy I am that she’s my wife? That I get to keep her forever?”.

That's it.

You slightly pulled away from him and grabbed his hand before leading him away from the dance floor and out of the wedding reception, not caring if someone actually saw you two leave. Your free hand held the edge of your dress as the two of you walked down the hall. He followed you like a puppy, a stupid, inebriated smile on his lips, his body quivering with anticipation and frenzy.

You arrived in front of a door that marked ‘storage room’ on its nameplate and looked around noticing that no one was there. You opened the door and pulled Jay inside with you and before you could even fully turn towards him, his hands were already on your face and his lips had captured yours in a kiss that took the breath out of your lungs.

He closed the door with his feet as he devoured you in a passionate and devastating kiss. Never letting you go, he removed one hand from your face before locking the door, returning his full attention to you immediately after.

He didn't know why but that was one of the most beautiful and breathtaking kiss you had ever exchanged, so overwhelming it made his knees weak and his stomach twist.

It may have been the fact that was the first real and passionate kiss as a married couple, maybe it was because he could finally call you his wife, because he could do this for the rest of his life, but all of this drove him like crazy.

“God I want you so much baby,” you breathed out in a little moment of separation. He didn't give you room to do or say anything else because he started kissing you again so intensely that a hit train would’ve been less crushing.

You slightly parted your lips and his tongue slid in your mouth without hesitation as they moved in sync against each other. Your dragged your hands along his chest, touching every bit of his body you could reach, almost shaking from the frenzy and desire of wanting to touch his heated skin.

A deep moan vibrated in his throat when you sucked on his tongue, making him lose that shred of sanity he had left. He pushed you against the wall, his body pressed against yours as he continued to kiss you passionately and greedily.

“You'll be the death of me,” he murmured against your lips as he planted kisses up your jaw and down to your neck. His tongue wet your skin as he nibbled it, his lips sucking at the same time making you gasp and writhe in pleasure. “I want to fucking rip this dress off you.”

You giggled – since the feeling was pretty much reciprocated – eyes still half closed as you enjoyed the sensation his lips gave you. “Don't you dare, it was expensive as fuck.”

He suddenly pulled away from you and a cold feeling took over you at that distance. His eyes traveled down your body and how your wedding dress hugged every single curve perfectly, fuck, it felt like it had been sculpted on you, like it was made just for you to wear.

He just wanted to take a good look at you, imprint in his memory every single detail of you in your white wedding dress.

But the way he looked at you, God. He was like a predator about to haunt his prey, glaring at it with desire, ready to capture it and devour its flesh with voracity and hunger. You felt so beautiful, like you could rule the world, like you were unstoppable, and you could only thank your husband for that.

“Fuck baby…” His chest rising and falling heavily due to that ardent kiss. He bit his bottom lip so hard he thought it’d start bleeding. He shook his head slightly as he continued to look at you lustfully, as if he could hardly believe you really existed, that you were actually his. “My beautiful, perfect wife…” He sighed. “I could just come from looking at you damn it.”

You pulled him back to you by the collar of his jacket and had to use all the strength you had in your body not to tear it off him along with that shirt. You kissed him again as your hands roamed down his body. You just couldn't take it anymore, you felt you’d explode soon or later if you didn't have him immediately.

You slipped his jacket off his shoulders, dropping it to the floor and hastily unbuttoned his shirt, eager to finally touch him, feel his skin against yours.

He did the same, unzipping your dress and you pulled away as he helped you step out of it. You didn't care if it got dirty or even ripped, you were just eager to finally have him, to feel him, your mind too foggy to think about anything other than Jay. But he took your dress instead of dropping it on the floor and placed it on an empty chair there.

This gesture made you smile with happiness and with every passing second you couldn't help but think about how you couldn't have chosen a better man to be your husband.

It was only then that Jay realized what you were wearing underneath your wedding dress, that vision alone almost making him fall unconscious on the floor. You were wearing one of the sexiest and most breathtaking white lingerie he had ever seen you wear and this made him regret not dragging you out that dance floor sooner.

My fucking wife.

“Baby… Jesus Christ…” he sighed heavily as he looked at you with so much lust and hunger, his mouth and his eyes wide open. “You… Wow… You’re so fucking beautiful… Holy shit…”

“I guess you like it then,” you giggled like a schoolgirl and grabbed his hands, pulling him back to you. He wasted no time touching you, caressing your curves and sliding his hand down your back until he grabbed your ass. He squeezed and massaged it with so much passion you were sure he’d leave some marks.

“Is this what you were hiding from me under that dress? Fuck if I had known I would’ve fucked you on that damn dance floor in front of everyone.” He started to grind his pelvis with yours and making you moan when his hard dick pressed against your intimacy.

“Jay please…” you sighed as he continued to grind against you, making you lose your mind. God you wanted him so much you it hurt.

His lips kept brushing his lips against yours, pulling back when you tried to kiss him and chuckling at your frustration.

“My sweet beautiful wife,” he murmured and placed his lips on your neck, on that particular spot that he knew made you lose your mind. A small moan left your mouth as he began to lick and suck at your skin again and you tilted your head, giving him more access. “I can't wait to be inside you.”

You grabbed his face and pressed your mouth on his, kissing him voraciously and passionately. It was like you were burning inside, as if your soul was trying to escape from inside your body and merge with his.

You had reached the point where you couldn't hold on for a second longer, you wanted your husband, you wanted him to take you there against those cold walls while all the guests danced in the wedding reception unaware of what you were doing.

You frantically unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down along with his boxers and freeing his hard erection, after sliding his shirt down his arms and leaving him naked in all his glory. You wrapped your hand around his erected dick and he let out a throaty moan, so fucking sexy you found yourself squeezing your legs together for some relief.

“Fuck yes…” he groaned as he struggled to continue kissing you while your hand pumped up and down on his dick. “I want to fuck this pretty mouth so bad,” he placed a hand on your cheek as his thumb caressed your lips. You took it into your mouth, licking and sucking it while your eyes were fixed on his.

He stopped when another loud moan left his mouth and he tilted his head back, his mind too clouded with pleasure. “Shh… You don’t want anyone to hear us don’t you love?” You smirked as you let go of his thumb.

“I don't give a fuck, I just need you,” he whimpered in an increasingly desperate tone.

“Yeah? How bad do you need me baby? Tell me,” you whispered sensually, biting his bottom lip as you slowed the pace of your hand and earning a frustrated verse from him.

“Fuck… Stop playing with me,” he warned you while at the same time his hips buckled up to meet your hand’s motion. You drew imaginary circles on his tip with your thumb, wet from the stain of precum. “Fucking tease,” he hissed before kissing you again. It was a sloppy and messy kiss, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth, your saliva mixing with each other.

“Now get on your knees.”

Your pussy clenched at the sound of those words and you were never so happy to obey. You were about to kneel down but before you could, he picked up his jacket from the ground and placed it in front of you, making you smile like an idiot.

If there was one thing that Jay cared about more than anything it was knowing that you were comfortable, everything else came second and this was one of the many things you loved about him: how thoughtful and caring he was, even at certain times you always came first.

“I love you so much, you know that?” You kissed him sweetly, making him smile.

“It’ll be better for you since I put a ring on that finger.” He chuckled. “And I love you so much more.”

Your heart exploded in your chest and you kissed him one last time before kneeling down, your eyes still in his as he watched with attention every little movement you made.

You jerked him off again before moving your face closer to his dick, sticking your tongue out and he almost fainted… Fuck, he wanted to take a picture of that moment so badly, he would’ve printed it out and hung it all over your home because that vision alone was pure heaven.

Maybe it wasn't a proper thing to do to compare the image of you with his dick in your hand and your tongue sticking out to heaven, but he was too distracted to think about it.

A deep, guttural moan escaped his mouth as you traced a long wet line with your tongue from the base of his dick to the tip, which went straight to his pussy, forcing you to squeeze your legs together again.

“Ah holy shit…” he sighed, breaking off with another moan when you drew circles on his tip with your tongue just as you had done with your thumb not long before, tasting the saltiness of the leaking precum. “Fuck baby please stop torturing me…”

You smirked before wrapping your lips around his veiny dick and taking it fully into your mouth, starting a steady rhythm as you bobbed your head up and down his shaft.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whimpered in pleasure as the heat of your mouth enveloped him. His eyes were half closed, his lips slightly parted as he struggled to maintain control and not make any noises. But it was so fucking hard, especially when your eyes were looking at him with so much sensuality they took the air out of his chest, not when your mouth was making him more ecstatic than any drug that existed.

“Yeah baby just like that… Oh yes… My sweet girl…”

He threw his head back, giving you a perfect view of his neck, his prominent jawline and veins and that alone was one of the hottest, sexiest things you had ever seen in your entire life.

His moans filled that little storage room and you hoped for a second no one was passing by or they would’ve surely heard him, but this thought immediately vanished, too caught up to his pleasure to care about the rest of the world.

Jay began to move his hips, fucking your mouth and hitting the back of your throat with the tip of his dick. “Shit, shit…” he loudly moaned “God you’re so fucking pretty with my dick in your mouth.”

And it was true.

You were so breathtakingly beautiful. Especially with your watery eyes, the mascara running down your cheeks, your lips swollen and pink as they continued to grind on his shaft, back and forth, again and again.

You tried not to gag while he continued to fuck your throat with particular voracity but it was almost impossible, just as it was becoming difficult to breathe as his dick kept completely filling your mouth.

“Y-yes baby… Oh fuck… That mouth of yours will be the death of me.”

Even though you were the one on your knees, you felt so powerful. Damn it, how much you loved knowing you were the only one who could make him feel this way, that you were the only one whose mouth he could fuck so mercilessly it almost made you choke on his dick, knowing that his moans, his sighs and whimpers were only and solely for you, knowing that it was only you who was making him lose his mind so badly.

He placed a hand on your head, threading his fingers into your styled hair, tugging and making you moan onto his dick. God you loved it when he did that, and he knew it.

Sensing you were having trouble breathing, Jay pulled his dick out of your mouth, taking it into his hand. “Stick out your tongue.”

You did as he said, feeling every cell in your body go up in flames.

“Such a good girl. My baby is so good for me."

He smirked as he began to slam his dick against your tongue which left a long stream of saliva on it, his other hand still in your hair as he continued to maneuver your head to his liking.

“You like that huh? You like being my pretty little slut?”.

“Fuck yes baby, please use me.”

He put his dick in your mouth again, letting out some of the most borderline pornographic moans you’ve ever heard along with strings of obscenities and profanities.

“My wife is so dirty… Oh god yeah… She likes being dirty for me?” He groaned and you managed to nod while looking at me through your lashes. It didn't take long for him to feel the orgasm starting to build inside him and he had to stop, not being able to hold on any longer.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck stop baby, you're gonna make me come,” he panted as if he'd run a marathon, stepping back and letting his dick pop out of your mouth. “I… Fuck, I need to be inside you.”

Before you could say or do anything, he helped you get on your feet and pressed his lips to yours still swollen, wet and pink from the killer blowjob you had just given him. He pressed your back against the cold wall but you didn't care, you were too hot to notice.

A moan escaped your lips this time when he moved your lace panties to the side with his fingers and slid them over your pussy.

“Fuck… Baby, ah yeah…”

“So fucking wet god… You drive me insane, I can't wait to be inside this pussy,” he kissed your neck as his fingers drew imaginary circles on your clit giving you the pleasure you so much needed.

Your hips began to slowly rotate following the same movement he was doing, your mind clouded with pleasure as you felt yourself already on the verge of an orgasm. God you were so horny, you didn't think you'd ever been this eager to fuck him.

“Look at that, fuck me, you're soaking my hands baby…”

“Bab-… Fuck yes… Please…” you babbled senselessly, struggling to keep at bay the moans and sighs that had taken the place of Jay's and were filling the storage room at that moment. “I… I can't…”

You wrapped an arm around his neck while grabbing his bicep with the other hand, trying to find some support because you felt like you’d collapse on the floor at any moment.

Your lips nibbled and sucked the skin of his neck making him sigh in your ear, on one hand to keep your almost uncontainable moans and on the other because you wanted to mark him, because you loved seeing what you did to him, you loved knowing he has only yours.

“Ah yeah… Fuck…” you hissed, biting down on his skin when he penetrated you with two fingers.

“Yes baby, fuck yourself on my fingers. Show me how much you like when your husband touches you like that.”

“J-Jay… Oh shit… I need you please…” you managed to stammer between moans. You felt like you were about to come but you needed to feel him, you needed his dick inside you.

Jay pulled his fingers out and you almost had a heart attack when he brought them to his lips. Without his eyes ever leaving yours, he licked away every trace of your fluids, humming with pleasure as he tasted you.

“You taste like heaven, I can't wait to lick every fucking drop and make you come on my face.”

“Jay I'm about to lose my goddamn mind. Please hurry up.”

He chuckled and brought his hands to your ass, pressing your half covered pussy by your panties still pulled aside against his dick, making both of you sigh with desire.

“What do you want baby? Tell me.”

You grabbed his face with your hands, pressing your mouth against his and sliding your tongue inside his when he slightly parted his lips. His hands continued to massage your now red ass, pressing his fingers hard as you kept grinding against each other.

“I want my husband to fuck me against this wall,” you whispered against his lips, pink and swollen from your impetuous kisses, your noses brushing.

My husband.

These simple words made him feel a sensation he couldn’t quite describe, an explosion of emotions that caused an electric shock to go through his entire body, which made his heart beat wildly and his legs feel like jelly.

It was pure melody.

It was so sweet and sexy at the same time, it made him was so happy he felt like he was touching the sky with a finger. He was your fucking husband and he couldn’t still fathom the idea he really managed to make you his wife.

Jay crashed his lips against yours again, sucking out that little trace of your soul you still had left in your body. He was eager to possess you, to feel you, to show you how much he loved and wanted you.

His hands lowered to your thighs and you took that as a sign to jump into his arms. With almost astonishing ease, he lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around his hips and your arms around his neck.

Your back was pressed against the cold wall but it didn't bother you, you couldn't even feel it. With one hand he held your thigh, while the other stroked his dick a couple of times before aligning it towards your entrance, penetrating you with a single slow thrust and making both of you to let out a loud and deep moan.

“Jesus Christ, fuck…” he moaned, using every ounce of his will and strength not to come instantly. His other hand settled on your thigh again and his fingers pressed so hard they felt like they were going to tear your skin at any moment.

Jay had his face buried in the crook of your neck, his lips wide open as if trying to get some air, his breathing quickened.

“Shit baby you feel so good inside me,” you breathed out as his dick stretched out every corner of your vagina. He wasn't even moving and you were already falling apart. “Please move…”

Jay pulled out of you slightly just to penetrate you again, this time with more force. He started moving his hips slowly, in and out of you, making you crave for more. But it didn't take long for him to start fucking you like his life depended on it, his thrusts now stronger.

He was thrusting so deep you could feel him in every corner of your body and a piece of you disintegrating with each passing second. Your arms held him close to you, your fingers on his shoulders while your nails slid across his skin, leaving marks that would probably stay there for days.

“God baby I can't get enough of you, f-fuck…” he groaned in your ear as his lips left trails of wet kisses on your neck and his tongue licked your sweaty skin.

You tried to answer but the pleasure was so intense, so high you couldn’t get anything out of your mouth other than a moan or a whimper. It felt so fucking good you couldn't even describe it.

A particularly loud moan escaped your lips as he gave a particular deep thrust, making you almost jump out of your skin as he hit your G-spot. “Oh my fucking god… Just like that… Oh yeah baby…”

“That's it, moan for for me princess. You’re being so good.”

He raised his head from the crook of your neck so he could look at you. You opened your eyes and met his eyes shining with luxury and passion, his pupils so dilated you couldn’t see the green of his irises.

His dick twitched inside you as he continued to fuck you against the wall mercilessly, and seeing you so deeply in the throes of pleasure, your mouth slightly open, your cheeks flushed, your eyes half closed… He was going crazy.

You kept looking at each other’s eyes, extending the deep connection between you two to another level. It wasn’t just your bodies that were fucking, but your souls too and you would’ve payed gold to stop the time and live this moment over and over again, forever.

“I love you so much baby, God I love you.”

“Fuck.” He crashed his lips into yours in a messy and sloppy kiss due to the continuous gasps interrupting you. You rested your forehead on his, both covered in a thin layer of sweat.

“Mine.”

He kissed you as his dick soaked with your fluids continued to thrust in and out of your pussy.

“Mine.”

He kissed you again.

“Mine.”

He kissed you once again, sucking and biting your lower lip but stopped by another moan as your walls clenched around him making him struggle to even stand still.

“God… Oh yes baby keep going… Please…” you spluttered and closed your eyes as you felt your orgasm take over you.

“Don't close your eyes, please look at me… Ah Jesus… Fuck yeah keep clenching around me like that, you’re such a good girl for me baby.”

You did as he said as you placed your hands on his face looking into his eyes and feeling that sensation of pressure twisting and clenching your insides.

“I love you, fuck… S-so much…” you cried out again now, your mind completely gone. Your eyes started to water from the intensity of his thrusts and you felt like you were going to implode in that same instant. “I'm coming, I'm coming, I’m coming please don’t stop…”

A loud moan escaped your lips as an overwhelming orgasm hit you like a truck, almost giving you a heart attack. Your arms encircled his neck again, your nails scratching the skin of his shoulders.

You didn't know if you could die from an orgasm but damn that was exactly how you felt. It was like someone made you fall from a ten-story building without a parachute.

Jay exploded in an orgasm after a few more thrusts, filling your pussy with his cum until the last drop before pulling out. He exhaustedly rested his head on your shoulder leaving small, sweet kisses on your neck.

The silence that now reigned in the storage room was only broken by your panting while you both tried to catch your breath as if you had just run a marathon.

You felt so good in that moment, like your body was floating in space and you didn't know if it was the thrill of being discovered, if it was the wedding, but that was the best sex you had ever had.

“God I can't feel my body anymore,” you murmured and he chuckled as you stroked the hair on the back of his head, leaving kisses on his cheek in the meantime.

That little room smelled of him, you and sex and you had never smelled a more sublime fragrance.

“Can we stay here forever?”.

“I'm afraid we still have a party to attend,” he tiredly chuckled again. Jay raised his head to look at you, a stupid smile on his lips, his heart happy. “Do you have any idea how fucking beautiful you are angel?”.

You smiled and gave him a kiss on the lips, this time sweet and gentle in contrast to the ones exchanged so far. “And you're a flatterer Mr Halstead, I know I look awful right now, my makeup is all ruined.”

“You’ve never been more beautiful than you are now Mrs Halstead. You look like you've been fucked properly.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, already starting to imagine the jokes and teasing your friends would make as soon as they’d see you, not to mention the embarrassment in front of your relatives and family.

You decided you’d think about this at the right time.

After both of your regained a bit of strength again, Jay carefully put you down but wrapping an arm around your waist when your knees buckled and you nearly fell to the ground.

“Wipe that stupid grin off your face,” you commented with mock annoyance when you noticed the smug, proud expression he was looking at you with and the way he was trying not to chuckle.

“I take full credit,” he laughed and before you could respond he silenced you with a kiss, making you forget what you even wanted to say.

After getting dressed, Jay helped you put your wedding dress back on, zipping it up your back and helping you fix your hair and what was left of your makeup as much as he could. He left a kiss on your right shoulder as his hands stroked up and down your arms. “I don't want to go back there.”

He kept planting kisses on your shoulder and up towards the crook of your neck and your jaw until he reached your cheek which he insisted on, making you smile stupidly. His arms wrapped around your hips from behind, pressing your body against him and holding you until you were almost breathless.

“Where did the ‘we have a party to attend’ go?” You teased him, meanwhile placing your hands on his and caressing them.

“I want you all to myself, I'm not ready to share you with other people again, plus now I want to fuck you again.”

You laughed, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Already?“.

“Already? Baby I would spend twenty-four hours a day and seven days a week buried deep inside you, don't act like you don't know me c'mon.” He kissed you again. “And above all seeing my cum dripping out of you and this damn lingerie drives me crazy, you can’t seriously expect me to resist you.”

You turned to him and cupped his face in your hands before pressing your lips against his as his arms encircled your hips again. A flock of butterflies exploded inside your stomach and he kissed you breathtakingly, making you lose the ground beneath your feet.

“I love you so much,” you whispered between kisses, forgetting again that the two of you had been locked in that storage room for God knew how long. “I'm so happy I married you.”

He smiled as you kissed him again, almost making you kiss his teeth. He’d never get tired of hearing it, no matter how much you had said it. “God baby I love you so much more.” He held you even tighter, as if he wanted to somehow get under your skin and steal your soul, which he had actually been doing for so long.

“My wife, my wife, my wife,” he continued to whisper, stealing several more kisses from you, kisses that he actually couldn't even manage to give you because of the way you couldn't stop smiling.

“You make my heart so happy.”

“Stop you're going to make me cry,” you hit him lightly on the shoulder covered by his jacket, feeling your eyes fill with tears.

God, could you love someone so much it hurt? Because that's how you felt.

You loved that man so much. So intensely you couldn't sleep when he wasn't there, so much you missed him even when he was just a few meters away from you, so deeply you couldn't imagine a life without him since the moment you met him.

You had always dreamed of an everlasting love, the kind that took your breath away just by thinking of it, that fairytale love, that love you had always read in novels and seen in films and Jay Halstead gave you all this and much more than you ever imagined or deserved.

He was peace.

He was home.

He was everything you had ever wanted and more.

Jay took your hands in his, bringing them to his lips and leaving a kiss on both of them, focusing in particular on your ring finger. His eyes shone like the ring’s stone at that moment and you looked at them mesmerized, thinking about how lucky you were to be able to do this all your life.

“We should go back there…” you murmured in a low voice, already sad for having to break that little bubble in which you took refuge even if not for a long time.

He snorted like a child but nodded. “I can't wait to have you all for myself.”

He intertwined his fingers with yours before unlocking the door and peeking out for a moment to see if anyone was nearby.

“Shit,” he muttered, immediately closing the door again when he saw a waiter walking down the hall holding an empty tray.

You let out a laugh when you saw his expression and he covered your mouth with his hand. “Shh, they'll hear us.”

“Baby we were fucking against the wall ten minutes ago, I'd say we're a little late for that don’t you think?” you whispered back, taking his hand away and looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

He playfully rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah whatever. Now kiss me.”

Before you could say anything he pulled you towards him by your hips, pressing his lips on yours. His body was pressed against the door and yours against his, your arms around his neck and his around your waist as his hands slid on your ass while you made out like teenagers hiding from your own parents.

“I'll never get tired of kissing you, it'll never be enough,” he whispered against your lips, nibbling and sucking your lower lip, making you sigh.

“I know what you're doing, stop it. Until proven otherwise it's still our wedding and we have to celebrate it,” you admonished him, dropping your hands to his chest and slightly pushing yourself away from him. You got a sound of disappointment in response, just what a child would do.

“You know what’s a great way to celebrate? Having sex. C'mon baby, come here.” He tried to put his hands on your hips again but you took a step back, crossing your arms over your chest in mock disappointment.

“We have a whole life to have wild sex. You don’t want to celebrate your wedding with your wife?”.

“Drop the act baby, I’m not falling for it,” he boop your nose with his index finger, a gesture that immediately made you smile even though you tried so hard to hold it back. “Of course I want to celebrate with you, that's not what I meant. This is the best day of my life.”

He chuckled before grabbing your hand and moving away from the door. He opened it again and like a few moments before, he checked no one was coming. When he realized that no one was passing by at that moment, you both left the storage room and he closed the door behind you.

You both smoothed your dress even though it was totally useless, anyone from a mile away could tell you had some hot sex just some moments before.

But you didn't care, it was your day, yours and Jay's and damn, you were free to do whatever you wanted even if it meant sneaking out of your own party to have sex in a storage room.

Okay, it wasn't a very proper thing to do but what could you say, all couples consummated their marriage on their wedding night, you and Jay had just rushed things along.

So you walked hand in hand with your fingers intertwined towards the wedding reception, both of you with a stupid and joyful smile on your faces and happy as you had never been, ready to get drunk and finally start your life together.

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