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tagged-by-trauma · 1 month ago

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Hands behind your back

After a long day and a very relaxing shower Joel waits for you sitting on your bed. He shows you just how tough his day was between quiet groans and dirty glances. Pairing: jackson!Joel x f!reader Warnings: established realtionship, explicit sexual content (+18), dom!joel/sub!reader, dirty talk, oral (m receiving), deep throating/throat fucking, hair pulling, boot riding (uhm... yeah), cum eating, soft aftercare and cuddles, but basically just full on porn without much plot Word count: 2.2k A/N: Hey everyone! I'm still new to fanfiction writing and this is my very first attempt at it. I would highly appreciate it if you left some feedbacks or your opinions about what should I improve! P.S: English is not my first language, so sorry if I made any mistake or typo! Also, if I left anything out from the warnings just yell!

Nighttime always came quickly and quietly in the little town that was Jackson. This small settlement that was hugged by mountains, forests, abandoned buildings and high walls that kept out every possible danger. This settlement where even though hell was raging outside the gates, the days were full of life and laughter. The town hall loud with the sound of cutlery clinking and people talking. The streets lively with children running around and playing with each other while their parents watched with careful and protective eyes.

You were getting out of the shower, the bathroom full of steam, the little house staying in quietness. Standing in front of the mirror you looked at your blurry reflection. Your body covered in scars earned by successful fights against clickers or aggressive and eager raiders along the road. You pulled a towel tight across your form and opened the room’s door but when you saw what was waiting outside—or more like who—you stopped in your tracks.

Joel Miller was there.

You met him first when you arrived in Jackson and instantly knew that he was the grumpiest, toughest, most insufferable man you’ve ever met in your whole life. With his broad shoulders, quiet intelligence and thick shell he was a very new and different face in town. But somewhere along the way you realized that he wasn’t that bad after all. Yes, he had bad days where he gave everyone the deadliest gazes, pretended to be tough when a word hit home too roughly but you saw right through him. And you couldn’t resist him anymore, but neither could he. And now, now he was sitting on the edge of the bed with the most unsettling calmness on his face you’ve ever received from him.

You took some steps forward and he was watching your every move with a hungry gaze. His usually brown eyes were so dark with desire now that they almost seemed black in the low light of the bedside lamp, jaw tight with restrained want and hands balled up into tight fists on his thighs.

“Joel—” you wanted to ask him something—anything—but he drowned the words into your throat with one lustful and sharp look.

“Come here,” his voice was low and gravelly, commanding in a way you couldn’t explain and before you could even think you were already moving and standing vulnerably in front of him, towel drawn even tighter around you, knees brushing against his flexed thighs.

“On your knees. Hands behind your back,” you obeyed him, slowly letting yourself to the ground and looking up at him with wide eyes. He reached for the edge of your towel and with a firm tug he let it fall to the ground exposing you to him. His eyes raked over every part of your body with lust, and you shivered—either from the want that built up in you from only this command or the slow vulnerability scratching at you from the inside—goosebumps covering your forearms. His sudden demeanour sent a rush of wetness between your legs making you squirm and squeeze your thighs together to relieve some of the pressure.

“You don’t get to touch unless I tell you to, understood?” you nodded, your own arousal building with every ticking second. He suddenly leaned forward and grabbed your jaw between his thumb and index finger keeping you in place.

“Use that pretty mouth of yours,” he whispered as he moved his head down the column of your neck, his rough beard scratching the skin and his mouth blowing slow kisses to your pulse, teeth scraping the warm and flushed flesh.

“Yes,” you breathed softly and couldn’t focus on anything else just his mouth on you. He pulled back and you let out a gasp at his sudden distance. He looked down at you with the smuggest smirk playing in the corner of his mouth.

“Good girl,” you felt yourself grow even wetter if that was possible and he leaned back on his hands, one coming to rest on the front of his jeans as he started to rub himself through the rough fabric of the denim, and you drooled at the sight of him, sprawled out on your bed, gaze fixed on you in front of him on your knees, hands behind your back.

He reaches for the leather of his belt and unbuckles it, the sound crawling up your spine and settling deep in your bones. Next the zipper came undone and you could see the huge bulge straining against the confines of his briefs. You noticed the wet patch of precum on the dark fabric and you couldn’t help but bite your lip and let out a small and needy whimper. He chuckled low at your reaction and stopped in his movements.

“You’re so eager, aren’t you?”

He reached for the waistband of his briefs and freed himself, his cock springing free and slapping against his covered stomach, your gaze glued to it. He was big, bigger than your previous partners, his tip flushed an angry red—almost purple from the restrained need—precum leaking from the small slit at the top. His hand reached down and grasped himself, letting out a strangled groan that didn’t sound humanly spiced with a swear. His hand started moving with slow and languid strokes, his thumb spreading the precum all over his length, coating himself.

He was feeling on cloud nine. You looking at him hungrily, like he would be the best fucking feast you’ve ever had, mouths parted, pupils dilated. He let his head fall forward, a low groan escaping from the deepest parts of his body. His eyes squeezed shut, not daring to look at you, because if he did he might have come undone.

Meanwhile his other hand came up to your jaw and caressed it with soft tenderness. Full opposite from what his right was doing. Your eyes moved back and forth between his cock and his pleasured expression. You closed them and started to move your thighs together, somehow releasing the pent-up tension that settled deep down in your stomach.

“Fuck, darlin’. Look at you,” his thumb moved across your lower lip and caressing it. You felt light-headed and breathless. Spiked by a sudden idea you seductively opened your mouth and took his finger into your mouth. He looked at you taken aback but his right hand sped up and you could see his cock twitching in his fist. You just hummed and swirled your tongue around him, hollowing your cheek.

“Jesus, darlin’,” he stuttered with a shaky breath. You wanted to pull your hand in front of you by habit, but when he saw your intentions, he pulled his thumb from your mouth and grabbed your throat with a careful but firm strength that knocked all the air out of your lungs. “No touching, remember? Otherwise I’ll have to punish you, darlin’,” you saw that he was serious, but couldn’t help and be aroused by the idea of being spread over his thigh, ass up and angry red with his handprints as he spanks the obedience into you.

“Joel—”

“Nah-ah, darlin’. Now, open wide,” you looked in his eyes, parted your mouth and sticked out your tongue. His arousal could be evident by the dark fire that was burning behind his lashes, and his hand came to the back of your neck, collecting your hair in one swift motion.

“Fuck, darlin’. Let me feel those perfect fucking lips around me,” saliva was already pooling in your mouth when you leaned forward and licked a stripe up from the base of his length to the tip. He let out and animalistic growl, his hand that was holding your hair tightening. Your tongue traced the curves of the veins that were running up on the sides. When you arrived to his head, you placed soft kitten licks there and lapped up the precum that was leaking from his length. He suddenly tugged at your hair and pulled you back. “Don’t fucking tease me, darlin’. I’m not in the fucking mood tonight.”

His hand guided you back to his cock and this time you didn’t hesitate to take him in your mouth. Your eyes found his and you let yourself take up the eye contact while you were going up and down on his length. You could feel his feet shuffling and you felt the tip of his boots between your thighs. You pulled back and let out a soft gasp, head tipping forward.

“Did I say you could stop?”, he pulled your hair back, so you could see his face now covered in sweat. “You’re gonna ride my boots while I’m gonna fuck your mouth, darlin’,” he slowly moved his boots back and forth, and you dived back down on his cock with a breathy moan. You swirled your tongue around his length, hollowing your cheeks and taking him even deeper with every move. His boots were moving with slowness for the first few minutes but as you picked up the pace, he did the same. You were a mess at that moment, your only focus on making him come. The shoelaces were rubbing against your clit with every grind of your hips, your arousal soaking the rough material of the shoes, leaving behind a very prominent wet patch.

He also placed his other hand around the back of your head and carefully pushed you, making you take him deeper. You relaxed your throat, and when you could feel the tip of his cock at the back of your throat and the soft hair at the base, you looked up at him and studied his expression. Jaw slack, eyes squeezed, sweat collecting between his brows, threatening to spill down the line of his nose. You hummed around him, and the vibrations ran through his whole body settling at his brain.

He gripped your hair tighter and kept you in place as he pulled back his hips from your lips and thrusted forward once again. You were a writhing mess under his touch, eyes teary as his tip touched the back of your throat over and over again while his boots were continuing its movements against your swollen clit.

“Fuck, darlin’. I’m not gonna last long if you keep going like this,” his head fell back with a strangled groan, and you could feel his cock twitching in your mouth. Swirling your tongue around his length he moaned your name and exploded in your mouth, the salty taste of him hitting your tastebuds. You pulled back and swallowed every last drop of him, opening your mouth so he could see.

“Good girl. Now, you get off by just riding my boots,” you nodded and grinded down harder. “You can move your hands, darlin’,” he murmured, and you obeyed, pulling your hands forward and placing them on his thighs, steadying yourself.

“Joel, I—” you moaned his name as your orgasm shattered through you. You were clenching around nothing and your legs shaking as you softly bit down on his denim-covered thighs. He was caressing your hair, your cheeks, anything he could reach.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he cooed with a tender voice, complete opposite to what he showed you just a few minutes ago. “Let yourself go.”

As you came down from your high, you slowly raised to your feet and looked at the mess you made on his boots. It was now covered in your juices, glistening under the low lights of the room. He unbuttoned his flannel and took it off, now completely exposing himself to you. You saw the faint outlines of his scars over his body and you couldn’t help but want to trace them with your fingers.

He pulled you down on the bed and tugged you close to his form, your head resting on his chest. This side of him was the complete opposite of what he always showed to people outside your house, and you loved it. Loved how soft he could get with you but be dominant if he had a bad day on patrol or someone annoyed him with their mere presence. It was like he was a completely different person with you.

You snuggled closer into his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your head and the faint smell of sweat on his skin. Your hand came up to his face and rested on the little patch between his beard.

“Tough day?” you breathed against his skin, looking into his eyes.

“Hm,” hummed eyes closing, hands tightening around you. “Don’t wanna talk ‘bout it. But I’m glad you’re here.”

“Of course,” you said, and you could feel as his breathing slowed and his heartbeat calmed down. You carefully reached for the bedside lamp and turned it off, coating the room in complete darkness. As you settled back beside him, you gave a soft kiss to his temple and closed your eyes.

The bedroom was quiet except the low sound of a distant owl filling the otherwise quiet space. And here, tangled in the sheets—hugged close by his arms—his chest rising and falling under your cheeks, you felt like the world outside didn’t exist, and it was only the two of you.

#joel miller #joelmiller #jackson!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedropascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fandom

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pascalxp · 3 months ago

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Sweet & Protective Joel in TLOU2

I LOVE HIM

#pedropascal #pedro pascal #joelmiller #joel miller #thelastofus #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfic #joel miller tlou #joelmillerfic

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tteotlma · 2 months ago

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breathe you in

Dead,, needing to SMELL your lover to be okay????– GETTOUTTA HEREEEE

joel miller x reader imagine 2kwc

TW: 18+ MDNI; nsfw, post-panic attack intimacy, intense emotional vulnerability, scent as grounding, emotionally driven sex, power dynamics (consensual), begging, praise kink, desperate and talkative!Joel, soft domination, slow grinding, unprotected sex, deep emotional dependency, cockwarming adjacent energy, physical clinging, overstimulation potential

a/n: Also i’m def trying to bring back the casuality of what used to be posting on here…. There are many layers to this, which i could talk abt all day, but for now Bc i still love Joel, so very much

Imagine it’s late at night, you and Joel have gone to bed. You’re wrapped in the heat of your shared duvet, blanket tucked under your chin just how you like it. Joel had fallen asleep with his arm wrapped tightly around you, but that was hours ago, and… a man’s gotta spread. He’s sprawled out on the bed beside you, both fast asleep.

Suddenly, the bed creaks with an aggressive shake, and loud mumbling turned panic fills the room. You’re ripped from your sleep when the sounds of his gasps break through your dream barrier, and you realize Joel must’ve had another nightmare.

Throwing the blanket off your body, you sit up and reach over to touch his face, soft shushes leaving your lips.

“Hey, hey,” you cooed, “Joel, Baby—” You tried to pacify his cries, warming your hand against the curve of his jaw as you leaned into his side of the bed. He was frantic as he looked around the room, trying to reorient himself.

“Sweetheart,” getting on your knees, you move to straddle one of his legs, trying not to become frantic. “It was just a nightmare, look at me.” This had come out more stern than previous, and it seemed to break through whatever trance Joel seemed to find himself in.

His sounds softened as you continued to coax his attention towards you. Soon, the only sound that left his lips turned into heavy breathing as his hand shakily grasped your wrist against his skin. His eyes widen as he finally turns to look at you.

Cupping his face in both hands, you lean in, “Just Breathe—” his eyebrows curled, a hand on his ches,t “In and out,” your chest mimics your words.

“I—I—I—” He tries to talk, but you gently hush him.

“It’s okay; you don’t have to talk; just…” The hand on the center of his chest pressed deeper against the warmth of his shirt, silently reminding him where to focus. His hand came to rest atop yours, and he nodded. You locked eyes, and you noticed his pupils were blown wide.

You stay like that, still and close, for what feels like hours, though only minutes pass—as he slowly pulls himself from the fog of his nightmare. Then, without a word, his eyes drop to his lap. One hand drifts to your hip, the other settling at the bend of your arm, his chest still rising and falling in uneven waves.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he whispers, voice rough and low.

You hook a finger beneath his chin, gently guiding his face to yours. “For you,” you whisper, tucking a stray salt-and-pepper curl behind his ear, “anything.”

Your thumb grazes his cheek, tender and steady as you hold his face in your hands. You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

The hand on your hip slides to your lower back, his palm warm and deliberate as he draws you into his chest. You go easily, folding into the hug, your cheek resting against the curve of his neck. He holds you there, solid, quiet—like the act of touching you is the only thing keeping him grounded.

His face finds the crook of your neck while your chin rests on his shoulder. You feel him breathe you in. At first, it’s subtle and slow, his nose brushing your skin, chest rising against yours as he inhales deeply. He sighs.

Then he does it again. Slower. Longer. His nose drags across the slope of your neck, and his breath leaves him shakier this time.

You feel the edge of his teeth when he speaks, his voice low against your skin, the rough scrape of his stubble trailing higher as he nuzzles along your jaw. You tilt instinctively, baring more of your neck. His hand slides up your spine, fingers splayed, holding you firmly against him.

His lips hover near your skin—not quite kissing, but close enough to make you shiver. The coarse drag of his stubble follows the curve of your jaw as his nose nudges higher. You tilt again, offering more without thinking.

That’s all it takes.

His mouth finds your pulse. One soft kiss. Then another. Then one just beneath your ear that lingers a little too long.

When you turn your face toward his, his eyes drop to your mouth.

And then he kisses you.

It starts slow, careful, almost hesitant. His lips part against yours, and one hand moves higher on your back, holding you steady. The tension breaks when you sigh into him and your fingers tighten in the back of his shirt.

The kiss deepens. His mouth moves over yours like he’s hungry for it, like this is the only way he knows how to speak. His hand comes up to cradle your jaw. His tongue brushes yours, coaxing, tasting. You whimper softly, and he groans into your mouth like the sound unravels him.

Like, he’s not just kissing you.

Like he’s trying to hold on to the only thing that, to him, feels real.

“Every time I breathe you in, I want more.” He pulls back, eyes hooded as he stares at your now swollen lips.

“Please, baby… let me have more.” He kisses the corner of your mouth, slow and warm, watching the way your chest heaves beneath him. He sees it—the way your breath catches, the flicker of doubt in your eyes—and he doesn’t wait.

“Only if you want it,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along your jaw. “I’ll take my time. I’ll be gentle. Just… I need to be close. Closer than this.”

Another kiss, softer this time, pressed just below your ear.

“I don’t want to fuck. I want to feel. Want to be in your skin and know what it’s like to come home and mean it.”

He rests his forehead against yours, breathing you in again like it’s the only thing that calms the storm in his chest.

Your hands come up to cradle his face, thumbs sweeping across the stubble at his cheeks. You nod slowly, silently, teeth caught between your lips—and that’s all it takes.

Joel exhales like he’s been underwater, like he’s just come up for air. He shifts his weight and turns you both over in one smooth motion, laying you gently beneath him. His hands don’t leave your body, not once, as your thighs part instinctively to cradle his hips. He settles there, warm and solid, his full weight pressing you into the mattress. His chest hovers just above yours, his forearms braced on either side of your head, eyes locked on yours like he’s still asking for permission, even without the words.

He leans in, kisses you again—slower this time. His lips are warm and sure, his breath steadying against your cheek. He kisses you like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your mouth, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear the second he looks away. His hips roll forward, a slow drag of pressure right against the heat between your legs, and your back arches to meet him.

Even through the layers, you can feel the thick weight of him, already hardening as he grinds against you. The pressure is deliberate, controlled, but needy. Like he’s not chasing pleasure, but grounding himself in it.

"That’s it," he murmurs into your mouth, voice thick. "Just wanna feel you, baby. That’s all I need."

He shifts again, just enough to work one hand down between your bodies, tugging at the waistband of his sweats. You feel the soft brush of his knuckles against your stomach as he pushes them low, and then you reach for him too, helping him slide them off. The soft sound of fabric rustling fills the space between your breaths. When his cock presses against your bare thigh—hot and heavy—you both shudder.

“Take these off for me, sweetheart,” he breathes, thumb hooking into the waistband of your shorts.

You lift your hips, and he pulls them down slowly, carefully, like you’re something breakable. His hands linger on your thighs when he tosses them aside, calloused palms dragging back up the insides until you’re spread open for him again.

He settles between your legs and lines himself up, the thick head of his cock dragging through your folds, already wet and aching. One hand rests at your waist, the other steadying himself against the mattress.

"Tell me if it’s too much," he says, voice barely above a whisper. "I’ll stop. I swear. I’ll stop if you need me to."

You shake your head immediately, breathing hard.

"Don’t stop, Joel. I need you."

He presses forward slowly, easing into you inch by inch. The stretch steals the breath from your lungs, your fingers curling into the muscles at his back as he sinks deeper. His body shudders above you when he bottoms out, buried completely.

“Fuck—Jesus Christ,” he groans, the words broken against your neck. “You feel like heaven. So warm… fuck, you’re takin’ me so good.”

He stays there for a moment, unmoving. His body presses flush to yours, his hand slides under your back, palm flat between your shoulder blades like he’s holding you there, grounding both of you. When he starts to move, it’s slow, deep, grinding strokes that have you gasping softly beneath him.

Each roll of his hips pulls a quiet sound from your throat. Your body clenches around him, clinging, wet, and pulsing as you fall into his rhythm.

“Needed this,” he whispers. His voice is hoarse, raw. “Felt like I was gonna fuckin’ lose it tonight.”

His forehead presses to yours as he keeps moving inside you, languid, like you’re the only thing tethering him to reality.

“You’re the only thing that feels real right now.”

He holds you so close. One hand cupping the back of your head, the other gripping your thigh, spreading you wider, deeper. His mouth grazes your temple, your jaw, and your lips between every breath.

“Only time I can breathe is when I’m buried in you.”

Your legs tighten around his waist, your heel digging into the curve of his ass as you pull him in harder. He groans, thrusts faltering for half a beat before he finds his rhythm again, slightly rougher now, more desperate.

His mouth drops to your shoulder, breath shaking against your skin.

“Let me cum inside you,” he pants. “Wanna feel you wrapped around me when I cum.”

Your answer is a whimper, your nails dragging down his back. He kisses you again—messy and open-mouthed, tongue sweeping against yours like he needs to taste every part of you.

“Let me give it to you, baby—let me fuckin’ give it to you.” He thrusts hard with each syllable.

You nod, eyes fluttering closed, thighs shaking. His thrusts grow more frantic, deeper, like he’s chasing the edge with every desperate breath.

"That’s it," he groans. "That’s it, darlin’. You take me so fuckin’ well—always do. My good girl."

He spills inside you with a broken, guttural moan, burying his face in the crook of your neck as his whole body trembles above you. You feel every twitch, every pulse of release, warm and deep and grounding.

"Thank you," he whispers into your skin, over and over, voice crumbling. "Thank you. Thank you. Didn’t know how much I needed this until you. Until you."

He doesn’t pull out. Doesn’t move except to press soft kisses to your neck, your jaw, your cheek.

“Gonna hold you now, alright?” he murmurs. “Just wanna hold you for a while. That okay, baby?”

You nod, barely able to breathe.

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his chest like he’s afraid to let you go. And for a long time, neither of you says anything at all.

a/n: pls don't let another one flop -- REBLOG TO SUPPORT <3

#pedropascal #pedro pascal #joelmiller #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #jackson!joel #pedro pascal fandom #joel miller smut #neighbor!joel #joel miller fluff #tlou

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bweeeb · 3 months ago

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HAWAII SOLUTIONS

Dbf Joel Miller × Reader

Summary: If your dad can fuck someone younger, so can you, maybe his hot best friend?

warnings: dirt, sex in public but without public, age gap, smut, I'm not fluent in English so I apologize for mistakes,

♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧♧

Vacation. My dad said I needed a vacation when I decided to drop out of business school. That’s how I ended up here. In Hawaii.

The beach was stunning, the food was amazing, and nothing beats sleeping in hotel beds—but then there was them. My dad, his girlfriend—Addison, who was disgustingly just two years older than me—and, of course, his best friend, Joel. Fucking Joel Miller.

He was a problem, but not the kind that made me want to rip my hair out—or his.

Addison, now she was a problem. Everywhere. At home—loud, at college—loud, on the plane—loud. That bitch is loud everywhere, trust me. I was always sure she was with my dad for the money, the Gucci bags, and the tuition he paid for. Which was ridiculous. And yet, here she was in Hawaii.

‘You’re too tense.’

Joel said it as he lay back on the lounge chair next to mine on the beach.

He’d been my problem since I was fifteen. Seven years later, I was still here, looking at him like he was some Greek god. Well, I’d be damned if he wasn’t, lounging there while I sat stiffly, watching the way-too-happy couple by the water.

‘I’m not,’

I mumbled.

‘You should hate her less. And him too—he’s trying.’

‘Come on, Joel. Don’t do this.’

‘Do what?’

‘Say that crap. He’s a hypocrite. I could never be with someone the way he’s with her.’

I huffed and rolled my eyes.

‘She makes him happy.’

He said, and I just stayed quiet. ‘Why’d you drop out of college?’

I shrugged without looking at him. That bastard reached over, his thick fingers pressing into my cheeks, forcing me to look at him.

‘Look at me and stop acting like a child.’

‘I’m not,’ I hissed through gritted teeth. He was shirtless under an open blue dress shirt, chest hair trailing down into those red swim trunks, and god, I could ride that nose for hours.

‘There she is, looking at me,’

he teased, and my cheeks flushed. He smiled.

‘Now tell me.’

‘She distracts me.’

I kept it short, especially since his hand was now grazing my collarbone and neck, back and forth in the sweetest little touch.

‘How does she distract you? I thought you liked men ’

' Shut up old man ' I teased him and saw his jaw tighten

' I'm fucking 45 you brat '

' Oh, so you can still get an erection to fuck me?'

' Continue where you were'

‘Everyone knows about him. They talk. She flaunts being with one of us and spending all our money. It bothers me.’

‘You should tell him.’

‘Like he’d believe me. You know him, you know exactly what he’d say.’

‘Unfortunately, I do, sweetheart.’

Joel looked down for a second, then back at me. ‘But you know�� you could flip the script.’

‘What do you mean?’

Now it was him who shrugged. I laughed.

‘I mean, you’re 22. Want revenge? Take it. You’re in Hawaii.’

‘He’d kill me if I slept with someone.’

‘ Put the blame on daddy issues,’ Joel said playfully, and I laughed louder.

‘Fuck you.’

‘Watch your mouth, young lady.’

He scolded me, and I stuck out my tongue. He smiled at me.

Oh, I was seeing something all right—or maybe just fantasizing about him naked again.

‘Hey, you two! Come back to the room, let’s reserve dinner. You joining us?’

My dad called out as he walked toward us with his way-too-young girlfriend.

‘Sure,’ Joel answered, removing his hands from me and sitting up.

As they left the beach, I smiled at Joel and stood up, squinting down at him.

‘What?’

‘You shouldn’t wear a shirt at the beach.’ I put my hands on my hips.

‘I do what I want, I’m a grown man, doll.’

‘Well, so am I—grown, I mean.’

With that, I walked over and sat on his lap like I had no damn filter. Joel grunted, not touching me until I rolled my eyes and pulled his hands to my body.

‘You shouldn’t wear a dress to the beach either.’

‘It’s a cover-up,’ I muttered, but smiled right after. ‘But since you insist…’

I pulled it over my head, silently thanking myself for choosing my smallest bikini today. Joel’s eyes dropped to my chest, and I slowly unbuttoned his shirt until he was bare-chested.

‘We should go for a swim’

I suggested.

‘It’s getting dark.’

‘Even better.’

I stood, swaying my hips as I headed toward the water and the setting sun. I heard Joel mutter a fuck’s sake before he ran after me, grabbing me by the waist and tossing me over his shoulder.

‘Joel! Don’t you dare throw me, are you listening—'

‘Too late, sweetheart.’

The cold water shocked my skin, and I screamed. Then screamed again when strong arms wrapped around my waist from behind.

‘I think I want my revenge,’

I whispered, as Joel pressed wet kisses to my salty skin.His tongue circled my neck like I was some kind of delicious ice cream. As my body warmed up, I turned to face him, wrapping my legs around his waist and feeling his hard-on through my bikini.

‘I can’t fuck you. Fuck,’

he groaned, running his hands along my body.

‘Then why’d you say that?’

I whined, clinging to him.

‘Baby girl…’

‘Let’s just… do something. I just want to feel you.’

I pulled his cock out of his shorts, stroked him a few times, and then sank down on him.

‘What are you doing?’

His voice was low, breathless.

‘Mmm.’

I moaned with my eyes closed, clenching around him.

‘I just wanted to feel you inside me.’

‘Ah, baby. We can’t do this here.’

He shifted slightly, which made his cock slide deeper into my slick pussy. Fuck, I wanted him to wreck me right there.

‘Fuck, you’re so tight. Your sweet little pussy. Fuck my life.’

He groaned, eyes closed. Then a shout broke the spell.

‘Hey! What are you two still doing out there?’

My dad’s voice from the shore.

‘Why are you clinging to him?’

Because your best friend’s cock is buried in your little girl’s pussy.

‘I think there are crabs out here!’ I yelled.

‘She got scared,’ Joel added. And just then, a small wave hit us, and his hips bucked forward, driving his cock deeper inside me. The first wave of the night.

‘Alright, better come back, it’s getting dark.’

My dad called again. Joel thrust one more time, stealing my breath with a quiet moan.

‘Ahh…’

I moaned softly, and Joel smiled.

‘Add and I will be up on the deck!’

My dad pointed to the wooden deck overlooking the beach.

‘We’ll be right up!’ Joel shouted, and pulled out, hiding himself quickly. He dragged us out of the water before Dad could see. The cave-like spot beneath the deck was perfect—no view, just the sound of waves.Joel grabbed my ass again and slid inside me as he sat down. I bounced on his dick while he sucked on my nipples.

‘Riding my dick so good, baby.’

‘Oh Joel, I love your dick. Thank you,’

I whimpered, and he laughed in bliss.

‘Yeah, baby, you’re such a filthy little thing, always craving my dick.’

‘I am. Fuck me, Joel. I’m yours.’

He flipped me over, and I arched my ass up for him. Joel slammed back inside me. fucking my ass hard, the sound of his balls slapping against my skin made me shiver with the hard feeling of him.

‘Fuck, you feel so good.’ His hands pulled me to the air to rest my back against his chest and his hand massaged my swollen clitoris, rubbing my wet pussy for it.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck!’

I moaned as my climax hit, and three more deep thrusts had his balls smacking my ass before he emptied himself inside me.

‘You think he heard us?’

‘Probably,’

Joel said, breathless.

‘Good.’

If this was what vacation meant, I had zero complaints.

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

#joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller imagine #joel the last of us #joel smut #dbf!joel #pedropascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #pedro x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedrohub #joel x reader

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doeeyezz · 6 months ago

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bye y'all my ride is here

#pedropascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #big nose #oldermen #javier peña #joelmiller

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javierpena-inatacvest · 6 months ago

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His

Summary: Javi can't get enough of you (aka idk how to summarize this other than it's pwp whoops)

Word Count: 1.8K

Pairing: Husband!Javier Peña x Wife!Reader

Warnings: ... again, this is straight up pwp, unprotected p in v sex, rough(er) sex, breeding kink (I'm sorry!! I'm sorry!! It's physically impossible to not!!), praise kink, big, nasty creampie, cum play, 1 use of daddy and papí (but like, that's the goal), an ass smack, prone bone and the one position from s2e3 of Narcos because I say so!!! also sweet, tooth rotting fluff because I don't know how to write any other way

A/N: She's nothing, if not consistent, your honor 🤠 You'll have to pry Javier Peña and his big, fat breeding kink out of my cold, dead hands before I stop writing about it!!!!!! Figured what better way to break a hiatus than letting the ovulation demons do the lords work for me to post some smut on tumblr dot com, hope y'all enjoy!!!

Never Too Late Masterlist

“Fuck, Javi!”

The only thing that’s keeping you from waking up your neighbors with the volume of your moans is the way Javi has you pressed against the mattress, muffling the sound of you screaming his name as he pounds into you, over and over.

You swear he could smell it on you from the second he walked through the door, how you had been craving him all day. Just the thought of him alone was enough to make you ache with unbearable need and want. From the moment he left for work this morning, you were counting down the hours until he got home so you could climb him like a goddamn tree.

But then again, how can anyone blame you when he’s the one who instigated it in the first place?

“I swear to god, when I get home, I’m not letting you out of the fucking bed tonight ‘till I knock you up.”

“Is that a threat or a promise, Javi?”

“Both.”

Javi’s always been a man of his word, but with the way he’s fucking you right now, it makes you wonder if he’s ever planning on letting you out of the bed again.

“That’s it baby girl, let me hear it.”

You can feel the way the words rumble in his chest, pressed against your back as he fucks into you, deeper and harder with each thrust. The grip around your intertwined fingers tighten, practically melting you into the bed with the weight of his broad body is pinning you down, caging you beneath him.

Heat is radiating off him, the tacky sheen of sweat pooling where your skin meets, Javi’s hips flushed against the meat of your ass. He’s already got you three orgasms deep, but there’s just something addictive about Javi that always has you begging for more, desperate to cum around his cock over and over again until you have nothing left to give.

“Oh my god- fuck. Fuck, Javi, I want more baby, please. Fuck me harder- oh fuck-”

You swear you can feel his smirk creeping into the corners of his cheeks as he kisses your shoulder, relishing in the mess he’s already made you, and yet, you still can’t seem to get enough of him.

“You want more, hermosa? Let me hear you, baby.” Javi coos, purposely slowing his pace down just enough to make you whimper, quietly laughing to himself at the way he can feel you back your ass up against his hips, trying to keep yourself as full of him as you can.

“I want it, I want more, baby, please.” You whine, craning your neck behind you just enough to see the devilish grin Javi has plastered across his face.

“You gonna be a good girl and take everything I have to give you? Let me fill you up until it’s got no choice but to fuckin’ stick?” He groans, the thought of fucking himself so deep inside you that nine months from now, he’ll be the reason for your growing family, igniting something indescribably primal in him.

“Yes! Yes, please, fuck- I’ll take all of it!”

It’s borderline pathetic how many octaves your voice has climbed as you beg him for more, a pitch and volume so loud and high you nearly startle yourself with your response. You can hear Javi sigh and curse under his breath. You’re not sure if it’s because having you like this drives him crazy, or if having you like this drives him so crazy, he’s worried he’ll bust right then and there if he doesn’t control himself.

Your response has him shifting behind you, sitting back on his knees and gripping his fingers into the meat of your sides to force your bottom half up, one hand letting go to smack your ass just hard enough for your breath to hitch in the back of your throat.

You’re not sure how, but the new position has him feeling even fuller, stretching you out to the point of pleasure filled sobs as he starts to pound against your g-spot, each thrust rougher than the last.

You’re so wet that the sound of him sliding in and out of your cunt is almost as loud as the noise of his skin slapping against yours. That, combined with the lewd panting and moaning heaving from each of your chests, has the room sounding like you could easily give any porno ever produced a run for its money.

“Love this pussy so fucking much. Always so fucking wet and tight for me. Whose pussy is this, baby?” Javi asks, his once smug demeanor quickly dissipating as he chokes out his question through gritted teeth, so drunk on you he can barely think straight.

“Yours! Fuck, fuck fuck- It’s yours, Javi.” You sob, fisting at your bedsheets so tightly, you’re convinced it won’t be long until your knuckles turn white.

“Fucking right, it is. Fuck you so full of me that I knock you up, make sure- mierda- make sure everyone knows you’re all mine. That what you want, Mami?”

“Yes, y-yes! Oh fuck- yes! ”

Javi gets one more smack at your ass before he reaches around to scoop you up from your front, draping his arm across your chest to flush it with his back, never letting the pace of his hips falter. If he wasn’t holding you up, you’re positive you’d be limp, so all consumed by pleasure that it’s engulfed every inch of your body. to keep yourself upright.

His free arm snakes around to find your clit, whimpering as the pads of his fingers rub tight circles around the bundle of nerves. The undeniable tingle at the base of your spine is beginning to build again, the all too familiar clamping of your cunt around Javi’s cock growing tighter by the second.

You can all but feel him in your stomach, every inch of him sunk as deep as you can take him, backing your ass into him to counter every snap of his hips. You shoot your hand behind you, digging your nails into whatever part of his thigh you can find to brace yourself on as he fucks into relentlessly, only egged on by the fact he knows how close you are.

“You got one more for me, baby?” Javi mewls, nipping at your neck while the hot words of his breath dance across your skin. “One more time before I cum so fucking deep inside you?”

You’re not sure how you even have the capacity to form words, nodding your head in compliance as you try your best to string together something comprehensible as the coil in your stomach winds tighter and tighter.

“Y-yes, oh fuck- want you to fill me up. Put a baby in me, please, papí.“

“Fuck me.” Javi huffs under his breath, furrowing his brow in an intense focus to keep from fulfilling your request preemptively. “Cum for me, Hermosa. Cum all over my cock, and I promise I will.”

It only takes a few more frantic strokes before you’re collapsing around him, orgasm shooting through your body with such radiating pleasure, you’re not even sure you’re on this earth anymore. The way he’s pinning your nearly limp body to his, pounding into you relentlessly to chase his own high is almost too much, but you’ll take it. You’ll take everything he has to give because it means that you’re his.

“That’s my girl.” Javi coos, sliding the hand that had been rubbing at your clit up your chest, stopping to wrap around your jaw, just firm enough to dip your head back to rest against his shoulder. “My good fucking girl.”

His head is buried in the crook of your neck, pants and moans muffled against your skin, growing louder with each snap of his hips, each one more reckless and sloppy than the last. You can barely make out the words he’s mumbling into your ear, his brain just as jumbled as yours as he nears his finish line.

“I have so much fucking cum for you. Gonna fuck it so deep in you, it’ll- oh fuck- it’ll fucking take. Fill up this pussy with every last- shit- every last fucking drop. Fuck!”

It’s a low groan that rumbles in his chest first, followed by a strangled whimper that dies somewhere in the back of his throat as his hips stutter, hot ropes of his spend spilling inside of you while he cums. You know he doesn’t dare let a drop go to waste, that he’ll keep his cock stuffed inside your cunt until you’ve milked him of every ounce he has to give.

And fuck, he wasn’t lying when he said plenty to give.

You can’t even tell where your body ends and his begins, melded together as one, his length nestled so deep inside you, you can feel all of him pulsing while his seed overflows, leaking out pussy and dripping down your thighs. You know there’s nothing more Javi wants than to keep every last drop inside your cunt, but the best he can do with how much he has to give is to keep fucking it into you, forcing hips to thrust deeper in sync with the heavy heaves of his chest until you’re all but sobbing.

“It’s- fuck- it’s so much, Javi, fuck-” You whimper, jaw slack at the slick, sticky mess pooling around the base of his cock.

“Jesus, fuck- I know, baby. I know, but you’re taking me so fucking well.” He coos, softly kissing your neck and shoulder before shifting your body to lay you down, somehow remembering to grab a pillow from his side of the bed to prop under your hips before your back hits the mattress.��

You hiss at the loss of Javi inside you, the sharp breath quickly replaced by a gasp as you the next plop of cum dripping out of your hole caught by Javi’s fingers, sliding up your soaked folds to gently press back into your cunt. He uses the last bit of strength he has to part your legs just enough to make room for his head, leaning down just enough to pepper soft kisses to your clit, trailing up your stomach and chest until he collapses next to you.

The both of you lay there for a moment in silence, nothing left to fill the room but the post-orgasmic haze you’ve left behind, catching your breath as you try to let your brain sync back up to your body.

“Javi… Javi, holy fuck.” You huff, the corners of your cheeks turning upwards in a cheeky grin as you roll your head to face him, giggling at the wide eyed, fucked out expression his face still can’t seem to shake.

“Jesus fucking Christ…” Javi sighs, shaking his head in disbelief before running his hand through the sweat-dampened curls of his hair, prying them from the damp mat they’ve made on his forehead.

“You came so hard, Jav.” You softly giggle, scooting close enough to lay your cheek against his chest, smiling as he drapes his arm across your back to pull you in closer.

“Yeah, I know. Fuck, I haven’t cum that hard in a long time.” Javi smirks, fingers drawing gentle patterns on the warm skin of your back.

“Trying to knock me up really turns you on that much, huh?” You tease, the two of you laughing like you didn’t already know the answer, or that he couldn’t say the same for you. “It’s hot.”

“Yeah?” Javi asks, biting down on the plush of his lower lip as he raises his eyebrows at you.

“Mhmmm. You’re already about to be the hottest DILF known to man, makes it that much hotter how badly you want to be a daddy.”

Even though Javi rolls his eyes at you, trying his best to hide the boyish grin stretched between his cheeks. You snicker at the pink flush of his face, leaning over to leave a lingering kiss on his lips, both your smiles meeting each other’s mouths.

“Fuck me.” Javi sighs, quietly laughing to himself, carefully brushing a stray strand of hair out of your face.

“Again? Already? Hate to break it to ya, but I think it’s safe to say you’ve got nothing left in the tank there, Jav.”

This eye roll makes him grin even harder, supring on your giggles with the ticklish kisses he pecks across your body as payback for your awful joke.

“You’re such a fucking dork. God, I love you.”

“Love you more, idiot.”

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

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dilf-docs · 7 months ago

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Le Pedí Al Mar Y Al Sol Que Te Trajera

pedro pascal x younger fem!reader

summary: vacations are supposed to be fun! and with a hot older famous boyfriend? now we're really talking.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (yum), pwp, p. in v., fingering, pussy spanking (ooc i'm sorry i just want a man to do this to me), creampie, virgin!reader (sorry if this is kinda unrealistic for a first as i too i'm a virgin; in the curb we all fam), aftercare, spanglish ofc!!!

word count: 2,865 words

side note: so, i modified the request a bit bc idk pedro's friends like that (i just know omar apollo can tower over me wait what). check the og request here. reqs still open as we enter 2025! happy new year, dilf town citizens: pushed this drabble last minute as a lil' gift for you before the year ends! :) thank u sm for being part of it, my journey on tumblr is just getting started!!!!!!!!!!

Hace tiempo que quería yo sentir esto que siento.

They say dating a star and having to share him with everybody else is the hardest part, but to you, it's having both of your vacations occur simultaneously.

Finally, after months of shooting so many projects for the next year, your boyfriend is free.

Vacations are fun! They're supposed to be relaxing, especially after leading such a busy life as yours: juggling between work, studies and a relationship with world-renowned actor, Pedro Pascal. Yet, you can't help but feel nervous, fiddling with the loose strands of your skirt.

Pedro wants you to go alone, which means just the both of you: a little escape before Christmas Eve, as he and his friends have already planned their holiday together.

Doesn't matter how many times you tried to excuse yourself, he was determined to make you go with him. Besides, let's get real: it's not like you can say no to him. So now here he is, both of your passports in hand as you both are ready to board your plane to Mexico, where the rest of his friends will meet you a week later. Yes, more nerves to add on the schedule.

"If you don't quit that shaking of yours, I'll extend our vacation two more weeks" Pedro threatens once you're seated, but it's devoid of any malice. He's a bit far from you (he also insisted on the VIP flying part; you're just fine flying tourist, but can understand why he isn't), so you can't count on his touch to comfort you. "Didn't know you were afraid of planes"

You sigh, "I'm not"

"Ay, cariño. Are you afraid of me then?"

"No" you laugh nervously. You are, but not for the reasons he thinks.

It's the very first time the two of you will be fully alone. For obvious reasons, a whole week at the beach is much more intimate than just the dates you've been in. But here you are, already seeing the sand and water beneath you.

"Like what you see?" he jokes.

"Yeah" you look back at him, sincerity washing over the expression on your face. "I do"

If there is one thing you're sure of, is your love for Pedro. You'll just have to wait and see how this goes.

As of now, everything has gone well: sun, water, diving and lots of new photos and videos on your camera roll. You've gone swimming and danced on the bar of the hotel you're staying, some extra drinks on your system. You've also sunbathed under the same sun you've watched go down, in the most beautiful sunsets you've ever seen in your life.

But here comes the hardest part: the night. Sharing a bed isn't hard: it's something that's happened before, one time even staying in his house for two days, all because he insisted.

This time is different: the way his gaze lingers over your bare legs, the same way he's looked at them when the droplets of water slide down them. The way he licks his lips, like he's starving and the most deliciously tempting meal stands before him. Mantaining eye contact like it's some kind of dare, just as he's done since you've landed, using it to disarm you little by little.

You don't think you can't take it anymore.

You lay down on the bed, and he leaves the book he's reading on the night table next to him, all his attention directed towards you. Yeah, you're afraid, he can sense, but apparently not that afraid to wear a dainty nightwear that gives a delicious peek of your breasts.

"Something you want to say?" you ask, almost daringly so.

"Say no" voice low, barely a whisper that could come across a breeze of wind entering through the open window as it stirs the courtains. "Want, yes"

You gulp. "What do you want, then?"

Shouldn't taken the bait.

"You" comes quick, like it's the easiest answer there ever is.

The rest of his answer comes in the form of hungry lips capturing yours, devouring them in a clash of desire against your own, even struggling to breath due to the animalistic borderline savage way Pedro's eating you out, his tongue battling inside your mouth while trying to explore every corner just to taste all of you on his palate.

"Pedro" you moan his name out when he bites your lip with a bit too much force, metallic filling your taste buds. It's all so hot, and you're too turned on to think.

His roaming hands itch to touch every available spot of soft skin your body offers, tracing first through your collarbones, and then leaving the task for his lips to complete. There goes a trail of kisses that go down your neck, teeth nibbling the sensitive skin until it turns red. You whine against his hold, big hands keeping you under him, back pushed against the soft mattress and silk sheets.

You gasp for air, lost in the fire, when suddenly his forgotten hands touch you down there.

"Wait!" you shout, mentally slapping yourself.

"¿Qué pasó?" he exclaims, scared. "Did I hurt you?"

"N-no" you're quick to deny, voice wavering as you seat up on the bed. Your cheeks soon flush, as there's regret when you say. "I'm sorry"

"Sorry for what?" he tenderly cups your cheek. "Just tell me what happened"

"What happened is, I fucked up the vibe. I'm sorry, P. Didn't mean to stop you like that"

"¿No te estaba gustando, cariño?" he's questioning again.

"No" your answer is more firmly this time. His face morphs into a bit of hurt, and then you think your answer a bit more. "Ah, no. I mean, yes! I was liking it. I meant no as in no, it's not that why I stopped you"

"Then, why is it?" he grows a little impatient, but shows no such thing, rather focused on helping you out. "You know you can trust me, right?"

"I know" you smile sadly, insecurities washing over you like cold water.

"Then, tell me" he scoots closer, his perfume getting in your nostrils. Had he wore it again for this? God, what an evil little horny creature.

"I'm scared" you confess finally, the warmth of his receptiveness giving you a sense of security. His brown eyes soften, and you feel tears brim in the corner of your eyes.

"I know" he repeats your words, kissing you softheartedly, nothing compared to as before.

"No" you look directly at him, ready to take in every reaction his face will have. "I don't think you do"

"Amor, por favor-"

"I'm a virgin" you cut him off, panic rushing your answer.

"You are?" almost immediatly, giving no opportunity for silence to settle in.

You nod, slowly.

He sighs, sounding relieved. "And here I thought you didn't love me. Que te daba asco acostarte con un viejo como yo"

"No!" you deny hastily, then laugh. "Of course I love you, P. On the contrary, I was the one scared. Don't want to fuck it up on my first"

The energy changes again, as a flame sparks within your orbs. He looks surprised.

"Just because I said-" he cuts himself off. "Look, y/n, mi vida. I don't want to force you, yeah? I didn't know you hadn't- Listen, if you aren't ready, I'll understand"

"I am ready" clear and convinced, without a doubt.

His eyes circle between lust and love, "You want me to be your first, mmh baby?"

You nod, and he's back at the kissing and nibbling on your neck and collarbones.

"Please say it"

"I want you, Pedro. Quiero que seas mi primera vez"

Those sweet words of yours, an invitation not even the strongest man could deny.

"Let's start slow, yeah?" his fingers travel down to your panties under the nightwear, removing them and tossing them out of the bed, even with your pout. He kisses it off, wasting no time after to see your clit exposed. "Looking so sweet, angel. And needy" he gets closer, taking a better look at the wet mess that coats in between your thighs. He takes a whiff, intoxicated with the smell of your arousal dripping in waiting need. "Tell me if this is okay, yeah? I'll stop if it hurts"

Your breath hitches the moment his middle finger touches your puffy clit. Pedro runs his finger up and down, not adding much pressure to let you get used to it (kissing and eating each other out was all you had ever done). You whimper at the feeling as he repeats his action a few more times.

"Please, keep going" you plead, barely managing to not squirm at the overwhelming new sensations that shoot right through your cunt.

He begins to rub slow circles, making sure to add the right pressure onto your clit, then circling it, all while keeping eye contact, adoring the new expressions and sounds he's getting from you. You realize and shy away, embarrassed all of the sudden at the way he looks at you.

"Don't" he holds you by your chin with his free hand, "I want to know how you look when I please you"

You whimper, letting him do his own thing. He starts leaving sweet little kisses around your quivering pussy, enjoying the sight of your hole clenching at nothing.

"Think you can take more?" he asks, "want more?"

Two of his fingers dive straight in between your folds, coating them with your juices.

"Good girl" he praises when you only yelp, savouring the new feel of his digits inside of you. Then, he drags his fingers back to his mouth, tongue licking them clean. "Taste so sweet too"

"N-need more" you whine, desperate beneath him.

"Yeah?" This your first and you're already this greedy? I think I can get used to it" he laughs in adoration. "Let's try something better, yeah?"

Your body suddenly jolts, his big palm flat against your pussy. Pedro circles his whole palm across your cunt, middle finger pressing tightly onto it. You moan, back arching at the overstimulation.

He feels a little pervy, enjoying the way your tiny young body squirms beneath his caging body for of him. Nonetheless, he continues to rub you while you release more dirty sounds cascading out fo your filthy greedy lips. Your arousal keeps dripping like a broken pipeline, now smeared all over Pedro's palm, filling the room with slippery sounds.

"Mhm" you can't even speak, the exquisite combination of pain and pleasure reducing you to a moaning mess.

Pedro slaps your pussy twice, wet smacks bouncing off the walls.

"That's my girl" he then gently blows on your swollen bud, pressing a light kiss on it after. "Ready for it?"

It meaning his hard tent hidden under his underwear. You gulp, afraid you might not take it. He sees the hesitation in your eyes, but you're quick to dissmiss it.

"Are you sure you are ready?"

"Just do it" you demand, without knowing the consequences of your words, or the effect you have on him. Overall.

With needy fingers, you're fast to strip him out of it, admiring the size as much as you admire his now sculpted body. Jesus, you could build a cult out of it.

"Now" he cups your cheeks, fingers digging onto the skin, "I want you to look at me when I fuck you, yes? Don't dare to look away"

Pedro positions himself between your legs, aligning himself with your entrance. Then, he thrust inside you, filling you completely. You cry, trying to adjust to his size while your nails dig on his broad back, as he claims you, makes you his. Only his. Pedro'hi's hips snap forward with precision: every thrust is deliberate, each movement calculated to make your first as pleasurable as he can, despite the pain that's shown in your tears or the little drops of blood that fall onto the sheets.

"Shit" he pants, "tendremos que pagar por eso"

He grips your thighs, holding you steady as he pounds into you.

"Fuck, you feel so good" he moans, your tight untouched walls now stretching to adapt to his girth, "like you were made for me"

You cling to him, legs wrapping around his waist as he firmly holds you. Your vision goes foggy, mind numb at the burning and pleasing sensations. Despite that and lack of experience, you meet his every thrust, your bodies moving as one.

Your core contracts around him with every motion. "You fuck me so good" you mewl, music to his ears.

"I know, baby" he chuckles, "sólo lo mejor para mi princesa"

Fingers dig into your skin as he guides you with precision, right as he wants you to be. You feel the intensity of his deep inside of you with every movement, his hot laboured breath against your ear.

"Doing it so good" his voice is low, almost a growl, sending shivers down your spine. "Just for me"

"Just for you" you mindlessly pant out, the sensation of having all of him inside you, nothing separating the skin from skin, igniting a fire that spreads through your core. Your breasts bounce with each motion, Pedro's eyes never leaving yours, dark orbs locked onto your gaze as you urge him to go faster, drawing in a sharp breath as your body adjusts to the new rhythm he's providing, rapidly obeying.

The room is quiet except for the sound of your bodies clashing onto one another, flesh against flesh echoing softly.

"Your body is perfect, so wet, so tight for me" His words send a wave of pleasure crashing over you, making you moan loudly, your head falling back, "me tienes loco"

Pedro's weight grounds you as he begins to thrust deeply, each movement deliberate and unrelenting.

"Tell me you want this, us" the words catch you off guard. "Will you take all of me?"

"Yes" without a thought or doubt, answering as you whine and clutch at his shoulders with his more urgent thrusts. "All of you, always"

You notice his hips snapping forward, more energy as he pounts into you. "Good girl" praising you again, voice thick in arousal and rough, "so good for me"

Despite being your first, you can feel what would be your orgasm building, closer and closer until there is no holding it back.

"Pedro!" you scream his name, body collapsing around him as you come, stars reaching your closed eyelids.

His movements become more intense and sloppier, breathing ragged as he chases his own release.

"Espérame. Stay there for me"

You cling to him, legs wrapping tighter as he continues to pound into you. "Ya casi" his thrusts become erratic as he nears his climax, "almost there, baby"

You feel his body tensing as he comes inside you with a deep groan, seed spilling into you without wasting a drop.

"That's right" whispers against your sweet neck roughly, voice breaking as he collapses over you, trying to level his breathing. "Eres mía, only mine"

You're whimpering, body exhausted from the whole session you had.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Just tired" you sigh, "but I don't think I can walk"

"We'll get you a wheelchair someway" he jokes.

"You think is funny? Ruining my holidays?"

He leans down to press a sweet kiss on your forehead. "Come on, we'll get you cleaned up" you mumble out a tired no, but Pedro's picking you up with his strong arms, taking your body to the bathroom. You wrap your legs instinctively around his waist, face hidden in the crook of his neck.

"You know what? Your fans were right: you do have a slutty little waist" you mock.

"Right" he blushes, embarrased as he takes you inside the bathroom, then placing you on top of the toilet. "Open up, baby" he grabs some tissues, trying to clean up the mess you've made between your legs. "Así, justo así, bebé" he parts your hair to the side lovingly, fixing it for you before pressing a kiss on the crown of your head. "Done, my pretty baby, look at you"

You hum, eyes threatening to close.

"I see you're not an after-sex talker. Come on, I'll take you back to bed" he picks you up again, your head leaning against Pedro's V line as he caresses your head. "Hope you don't mind the smell"

"I love how you smell" you mumble out in a drunk like state.

"Okay then" he chuckles, "let's go back to bed" taking you out of the room, gently placing you the mattress. He then pulls a pair of fresh panties from your suitcase, dressing you in them. He coos at the sight of you, sleeping peacefully despite what you did before.

He finally lays next to you, lovingly lifting up your arm to put it around his waist. He pulls the sheets over your bodies to keep you both warm, in the chilly room thanks to the beach's air.

He feels you move, snuggling closer to his chest to seek warmth.

"I love you" whispered, not expecting you to answer or hear it.

When you snuggle closer, he's sure you do.

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @a7estrellas

#dilfistquickwrites #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x you #pedro x reader #pedro pascal fluff #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedropascal #pedro fluff #pedro smut #pwp #pedro pascal pwp #pedro pascal fandom

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honeyandruin · 18 days ago

Text

Idle Hands - Auto Shop Teacher!Joel Miller x Reader : PART TWO

🔧 ✦ 🔩 ✦ 🔧 ✦ 🔩 ✦ 🔧 ✦ 🔩 ✦ 🔧 ✦ 🔩 ✦ 🔧 ✦ 🔩

Pairing: Auto Shop Teacher!Joel Miller x Reader (college AU)

Summary: Part two of Idle Hands as so many have requested. After the night in your car, you tried to believe it was a mistake (and failed). But back in class, the tension is impossible to ignore—and when jealousy gets the better of him, you both learn you were never going to stop.

Warnings: 18+ only. MINORS DNI. Age gap, explicit sexual content, JEALOUS JOOOOEL BABY, unprotected sex, choking, rough sex, possessive Joel, teacher/student dynamic, praise & degradation, power imbalance, aftercare.

Word count: 3k (please don’t hate me that it’s a shorter one than the usuals)

A/N : I tried tagging everyone who asked to be tagged, and if it didn’t work, I’m so sorry!

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The shop smells like motor oil and old concrete.

You stand in the doorway a beat longer than you mean to, gripping the strap of your bag so hard your fingers ache.

Joel is already there, the hood of a rusted-out sedan propped open in front of him. He’s bent over the engine bay, forearms braced on the frame, jaw dark with stubble.

When he straightens, you swear he feels you watching him. His head turns—just slightly—and your eyes catch.

For a second, everything from last week floods back at once: the heat of his mouth, the low sound he made when you begged. The way he’d buried his face against your throat and whispered the filthiest things you’d ever heard.

He doesn’t look away.

His gaze drags down your front—like he just can’t help it—and when he drags it back up again, something in his expression flickers.

He’s trying to be neutral. Professional. But he isn’t ignoring you. And that almost makes it worse.

You take a slow breath, moving to your usual workbench. He watches you go, wiping his hands on a rag he keeps tucked in his back pocket.

“Morning,” he says, voice low. It’s the first time he’s spoken to you since he left you in your car with your hands still shaking.

Your heart beats too fast. “Hi.”

He hesitates like he wants to say something else. But the classroom door bangs open behind you—other students filing in, heavy boots echoing across the concrete—and whatever he was going to say dies before it can reach you.

You drop your bag on the stool, pulling out your notes and trying not to fidget.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him watching you a moment longer before he clears his throat and calls the class to order.

“Alright,” Joel says, voice steady but quieter than usual. “Listen up.”

He shifts his weight, bracing one hand on the edge of the workbench, the other still worrying that rag.

“For your final project, you’re gonna do a complete brake system overhaul. Pads, rotors, calipers—front and rear. You’ll bleed the lines, verify pressure, and log every step. If it doesn’t stop on the test drive, you fail.”

Someone groans behind you.

“Yeah,” Joel says flatly. “That’s the point. It’s meant to be hard.”

He sets the rag aside, crossing his arms over his chest. “If you have questions, you ask. Don’t guess. Don’t half-ass. And don’t touch anything you’re not ready to finish.”

His eyes flick to yours again—just for a beat—and your stomach flips.

“Get started,” he says, voice low. “I’ll be around.”

The group breaks apart in a shuffle of boots and muttered complaints. You exhale slowly and pick your way toward your assigned bay, heart thudding.

You spend the next half hour working in silence, carefully removing the first caliper. You can feel Joel nearby—hear the scrape of his boots, the low murmur of his voice as he checks on the others—but he doesn’t come over to you.

You’re trying to focus. Really. But the memory of his mouth on your skin keeps blurring the edges of everything.

That’s probably why you don’t notice Kyle until he’s too close.

“Careful,” he says, leaning an elbow on your bench. “You’re gonna strip the bolt if you keep wrenching it like that.”

You pause, glancing at the caliper bracket in your hands. “No, I’m not. I’m backing it off a half turn at a time so I don’t crack it.”

He smirks, ignoring you. “If you want, I could help you after class. Maybe go over it together? Over dinner?”

Heat crawls up your neck, part embarrassment, part annoyance. You set the part down carefully, wiping your hands on a rag.

“I’m good.”

“You sure?” He tilts his head, smile widening. “No offense, but it looks like you’re struggling. Wouldn’t want you to mess it up.”

“She’s not.”

You both turn.

Joel is standing a few feet away, arms folded tight across his chest. He’s not pretending to check the other bays anymore. He’s just watching.

Kyle shifts, trying for casual. “Yeah, I just thought—”

“You thought wrong,” Joel cuts in, voice low. “She’s doing it right. Let her work.”

Something in his tone makes Kyle’s smile flicker. He glances at you like he expects you to jump in. When you don’t, he huffs a little laugh and backs away.

“Whatever you say.”

You don’t look up until Kyle’s gone. When you finally meet Joel’s eyes, they’re darker than before—something quiet and furious simmering underneath.

“You don’t need him,” he says, voice rough.

“I know.”

He holds your stare a second longer. Then he pushes off the beam, turns, and walks away—like he has to physically remove himself before he does something about it.

***

The rest of the afternoon drags.

You try to keep your head down, focused on reassembling the caliper and logging each step in your notes. But every time you glance up, Joel is there—never watching directly, but close enough you feel it anyway.

You can tell he’s making himself stay occupied. Finding excuses to check inventory, update paperwork, do anything that keeps him from looking too long.

And you hate how much you like it.

By the time the clock above the door clicks past six, the last of the class is packing up, slamming their lockers shut. Someone mutters a goodbye on the way out. Another kid laughs, cursing about how much his hands hurt.

You pretend to be absorbed in double-checking your torque specs, but your heart is hammering.

You don’t look up until the door closes behind them.

Then it’s just you. And him.

Joel is at the desk again, one hand braced on the top, his other rubbing slow over the back of his neck. He looks tired. Not the usual end-of-the-day tired—something deeper, heavier.

You wipe your hands on a clean rag and gather your notes, forcing yourself to move like nothing feels different. Like the room isn’t too quiet. Like the memory of his mouth on your skin isn’t still playing behind your eyes.

Your boots scuff over the concrete as you cross to his desk.

He doesn’t look up.

“I finished the checklist,” you say, voice softer than you mean it to be.

He flips a page in the logbook, staring at it without reading. “Leave it there.”

Your pulse thuds in your throat. “Joel.”

Nothing. Just the tick of the old clock above the tool cabinet.

“I don’t—” You hesitate. “I don’t want this to feel like a mistake.”

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t lift his gaze. “It was a mistake.”

You swallow, fingers flexing on the edge of his desk. “You didn’t look like you thought that at the time.”

He drags a hand over his mouth, exhaling slow. “Don’t.”

You take a step closer. The air between you feels too thin.

“You don’t mean it,” you whisper.

He lifts his head then, finally meeting your eyes—and whatever you were braced for, it isn’t that look.

Wrecked.

His hand curls into a fist on the desk. “You think this is what you want?”

You don’t back down. “I know it is.”

He shakes his head, rough and disbelieving. “You don’t.”

Your voice drops, steady and soft. “Then show me.”

His breath shudders out. For a long second, he just looks at you—like he’s waiting for you to take it back. Like he’s hoping you will.

You don’t.

And that’s when he moves.

He comes around the desk in three slow steps. Stops just shy of touching you, so close you have to tip your head back to meet his eyes.

His hand lifts—hesitates—then finds your jaw. His thumb drags along the edge of your mouth, the touch so careful it makes your heart ache.

“You have no idea what you’re asking me for,” he says, voice low and ruined.

Your heart hammers so loud you’re sure he can hear it. His thumb drags across your lower lip, callused and warm, and you see the moment something in him fractures.

“I’m asking you to fuck me,” you breathe.

He goes still. Completely, utterly still.

A ragged sound tears out of his throat—half growl, half plea—and then his mouth crashes down onto yours.

The kiss isn’t careful. It isn’t soft. It’s all teeth and heat and desperation, the kind of kiss that feels like it’s been clawing at him for weeks. His hands find your hips, dragging you into him so hard you lose your breath.

“Jesus,” he mutters against your mouth, voice hoarse, like he hates himself for how good this feels. “Fuck—”

You don’t give him time to second-guess it. Your hands slide up under the hem of his work shirt, feeling the heat of his skin, the hard planes of his stomach. He shudders when your nails scrape lightly over the trail of hair leading lower.

“Goddamn it,” he rasps, and without breaking the kiss, he reaches past you.

The heavy thunk of the deadbolt sliding home is deafening in the hush.

He keeps his mouth sealed on yours, like he can’t bear to stop touching you long enough to think about what he’s doing.

He walks you backward, slow but unrelenting, until your hips hit the edge of the nearest workbench. The cold metal bites through your coveralls. You gasp, and he swallows the sound, groaning into your mouth like it’s killing him.

His hands are everywhere—palming your ass, squeezing your hips, dragging up your ribs. When he finds the zipper at your chest, he hesitates for just a heartbeat.

“You sure?” he mutters, voice wrecked. “You fuckin’ sure?”

“Please,” you whisper.

That’s all it takes.

He tugs the zipper down in one slow pull, the rasp of it loud in the quiet. His palm slides over your chest, thumb brushing the thin fabric of your bra. The contact makes your knees threaten to buckle.

“You have any idea,” he growls, mouth hot against your throat, “what you do to me?”

You try to answer, but he’s already dragging his mouth lower—nipping at the side of your neck, the curve where it meets your shoulder. His free hand rucks the coveralls down your hips, bunching them at your thighs. You feel the rough scrape of his calluses on bare skin, and the noise that slips out of you is embarrassingly needy.

“Look at you,” he mutters, lips brushing your ear. “All fuckin’ sweet now. All mine.”

You drag your hands up his chest, fisting the collar of his shirt to keep yourself steady. He catches your wrists, pins them to the workbench behind you, and holds you there like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

“You think that little shit had a chance with you?” His voice drops lower, almost a snarl. “You think I was gonna stand there and watch him touch what’s mine?”

The possessiveness in his tone makes your breath stutter. “Joel—”

“That what you want?” he demands, words hot and ragged against your mouth. “Some fuckin’ boy who doesn’t know what to do with you?”

“No,” you gasp, thighs clenching around his hips. “Want you.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, like it’s breaking him to hear it. “You fuckin’ do.”

He lets your wrists go—only to shove your coveralls the rest of the way down. The cold air kisses your skin, and he palms your ass, dragging you flush against the thick line of his cock straining his jeans.

“Feel that?” He grinds against you, making you whimper. “That’s what you do to me. Every time you look at me like you want it.”

Your hips rock into his, chasing the friction. “Please.”

“Yeah,” he mutters, voice rough, “gonna give it to you, baby.”

He kisses you again, messy and deep, while his hand drags between your legs. When his fingers find how wet you are, he groans like he’s in pain.

“Fuck me,” he rasps, pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re drippin’.”

His fingers slide through the slick heat, circling your clit just hard enough to make you bite your lip. He watches every reaction like he can’t look away.

“You want me to take my time,” he mutters, thumb pressing harder, “or you want it fast?”

“Fast,” you gasp. “Please—I—”

He cuts you off with a low, filthy laugh. “Course you do.”

He doesn’t waste another second. One hand fists in your hair, tilting your head so he can kiss you again while the other tugs at his belt, freeing himself. The blunt head of his cock bumps your thigh, hot and heavy, and your breath breaks.

He flips you before you can think, palms flattening between your shoulder blades, pressing you down against the cold workbench.

“Stay,” he growls, his voice so deep it scrapes something raw out of you.

You brace yourself, fingers curling around the metal edge, and look back over your shoulder.

His eyes meet yours—dark, starved—and something in them flickers.

“Gonna fuck you so good you forget about every other man,” he mutters. “Gonna fill you up so full you remember you’re mine.”

He drags the head of his cock through the slick between your thighs, teasing you just long enough that you whine.

“Say it,” he rasps, hips nudging forward, the stretch already making your vision blur. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“You,” you choke out, voice breaking. “You—fuck—”

“That’s right,” he breathes, sinking deeper. “All fuckin’ mine.”

When he bottoms out, his hand wraps around the front of your throat, tilting your head back so he can hear every gasp. His hips pull back—and when he slams forward again, the sound it makes is obscene.

Your fingers slip on the workbench. His grip tightens around your throat—just enough to hold you steady—and his other hand slides over your hip, guiding you back to meet each punishing thrust.

“Christ,” he mutters, voice ragged. “So tight—so fuckin’ sweet for me.”

You whimper, every thrust sending sparks up your spine.

“That little shit,” he pants, hips snapping harder. “Thought he could even touch you—”

He drags his hand lower, finding your clit, rubbing rough circles that make your knees buckle.

“Tell me,” he growls, breath hot in your ear. “Tell me who makes you come.”

“You,” you cry, voice splintering. “God—Joel—please—”

“That’s right,” he breathes, voice cracking. “Only me.”

The pressure builds so fast you can’t think. Can’t breathe. His cock drives into you, relentless, and you know you’re close—so close—

“Come on, baby,” he groans, thumb pressing harder, pace turning erratic. “Come for me.”

Your vision goes white. You shatter around him, hips jerking back into his as your orgasm crashes through you—hot, blinding, unstoppable.

He doesn’t stop. Keeps thrusting through it, hips snapping against your ass, low curses pouring from his mouth.

“Fuck—gonna fill you up—”

You can feel every ragged breath, every shudder, right before he finally spills inside you with a rough, broken sound.

When it’s over, he stays there—forehead against your spine, breath gusting across your skin.

As the last tremor leaves your body, you collapse forward onto your elbows, cheek pressed against the cool metal.

Joel doesn’t move for a second. Just stays bent over you, his hand splayed wide across your stomach, breathing like he’s just run every mile he’s ever owed.

After a moment, he drags in a shaky breath. His palm slides up, brushing the underside of your breast, lingering like he’s memorizing the shape of you.

“You okay?” he murmurs, voice wrecked.

You nod, your throat too tight to speak.

He slips free with a low groan and tugs your coveralls up enough to give you a shred of modesty. Then his hand cups the back of your neck, warm and heavy, like he can’t stop touching you even if he tried.

“C’mere,” he says softly.

You let him help you turn around. Your legs are unsteady, and he notices—his big hand bracing your hip until you’re upright. You can’t look at his face for a second. Not when you feel so wrung out. So full.

His thumb drags along your jaw. “Look at me.”

You do.

His eyes flick over your face, something complicated and unspoken in them. Guilt, maybe. Hunger that hasn’t faded. A tenderness you weren’t ready for.

“You wanna come by my place?” he asks, voice low. “Get cleaned up…maybe eat something?”

Your heart does something traitorous in your chest. “Yeah. I—yeah.”

His mouth twitches like he’s trying not to smile. “Good.”

He steps back, adjusting himself and tucking himself away with one hand, moving like a man who knows he’s going to hell and still can’t bring himself to care. He re-zips your coveralls, slow and deliberate, his knuckles brushing the tender skin of your chest.

When he’s done, he smooths the zipper flat. His thumb grazes the little metal pull tab.

“You got a dorm room, right?” he says, trying for casual and failing. “Probably not a lot of privacy there.”

You huff a laugh, still a little dazed. “Tiny. Thin walls. You’d be…pretty hard to hide.”

He lifts a brow, mouth tugging at the corner. “Yeah? You think I’m worth hiding?”

“Think you’re worth a lot more than that,” you murmur.

A groan rumbles in his chest—soft but unmistakable. He dips his head, pressing his mouth to yours, slower this time. Not careful, exactly. But different.

When he finally pulls back, he nods toward the door. “C’mon. I’ll drive.”

You trail him toward the door, your heart still tripping over itself.

Just as he unlocks the deadbolt and pulls the handle, you clear your throat.

“So…” you say, voice small but teasing, “does this mean I pass?”

Joel goes still.

Then—very slowly—he looks back at you over his shoulder. His eyes are still dark, but there’s something softer there now.

“No,” he says, voice low. “Means you’re gonna need a lot more practice.”

And before you can think of something smart to say, he leans in and kisses you again—like he already can’t wait to fail you all over.

🔧 ✦ 🔩 ✦ 🔧 ✦ 🔩 ✦ 🔧 ✦ 🔩 ✦ 🔧 ✦ 🔩 ✦ 🔧 ✦ 🔩

Here is the second part that yall asked for! I hope I did yalls requests some justice. @boscogirlsworld, @pixieeee101, @glitterspark & @kaseynsfws 💚🫶🏻

#joel miller #the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel tlou #tlou joel #joel smut #smut #joel x you #pedropascal #pedro pascal

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stylesispunk · 1 month ago

Note

So. Joel with a reader who has a bad habit of calling him “dude” or “bro”. She doesn’t even mean to do it, it’s just a big part of her vocabulary for some reason. Maybe she’s been hanging around Ellie a bit too much… maybe it’s a habit she’s always had and just can’t seem to kick, slipping up every now and then.. how would he feel??

Hi baby! I'm not sure if this is what you had in mind, but it went like this!

"CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT IT BUT THAT!"

gif credits to @/bratmillers

Pairing: jackson!Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: You have the bad habit of calling Joel dude or bro and he is done with you.

warnings: none really. mutual pinning and perhaps me being meh.

Joel Miller swore he could bear anything. Yes, the thousand times he had almost died but survived. He could handle clickers, raiders and a freezing winter that made his skin burn out.

But as everyone, he had a weakness, and his was that he couldn’t handle being called “bro” one more time.

Because that weakness came with you, and yes, you were his weakest point.

It had started the moment Ellie had come into your lives. But after arriving at Jackson and being here for a couple of months, fitting in the routine of your new quiet life. You became different, you fit here just perfectly, but just as Ellie, your mouth ran faster than your brain. It was like the both of you had become the extinction of each other, a fruit of the same tree.

After all it felt like that. The three of you were a family.

But Joel hated the way you called everyone “bro” and “dude” because you called him the same and that made him felt less important for you.

“Dude, you scared the hell out of me”

“Thanks for the help, bro”

“Dude, you’re a lifesaver”

He fucking hated it. He didn’t say anything, because what was he supposed to do? Call you out in front of everybody? Tell you it made him feel like some awkward kid on the outside of your life, while he wanted to be at the very center of it?

After one particularly rough patrol the both of you stepped inside the house.

You kicked off your boots and your jacket while groaning, “Bro, remind me why we signed up for this again?”

And Joel had stiffened, jaw tight, ears hot.

Ellie, who was sitting on the couch, holding a comic in her hands, just grinned like a damn Cheshire cat.

Joel didn’t say a word just muttered something under his breath and made for the stairs, boots heavy on the steps.

“You know?” she drawled, “you keep calling him bro, people are gonna start thinking you’re not into him,” she teased, biting into an apple.

You flushed. Heart stammering inside your ribcage “Ellie.”

“What? I’m just saying. Dude, did you see that face? Poor old man looks like he’s gonna combust every time you do it.” She wiggled her eyebrows at you.

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “It’s a habit, okay? I don’t even realize I’m saying it. It’s like breathing.” You glanced the stairs Joel had walked on for a bit “Besides, it’s because of you.”

“Yeah, and it’s killing him.”

You peeked at her through your fingers. “Really?”

Ellie grinned. “Swear to god. Next time you call him dude, watch his face. It’s like someone just stabbed him in the heart and kicked his puppy at the same time.”

You groaned again, dropping your head back against the couch cushion. “Fuck.”

“You might want to do something about it,” Ellie sing-songed. “Unless you wanna keep breaking his poor old man heart.”

“Hey, he’s not that old.” You defended him.

Ellie snorted. “Please. The man grunts more than he talks. That’s how you know.”

You huffed out a laugh despite yourself. Then silence settled between you, the fire crackling softly.

“You think I ruined it?” you asked quietly.

Ellie glanced at you, expression softening a little. “I think that if you go up there right now and maybe try calling him something that’s not bro, you’ll be fine.”

You nodded, anxiety crawling in your chest, determination setting in, but still not ready to face it.

“What are you waiting for?” she asked, exasperate “Go get your man, dude!”

You stood, raking a hand through your hair. You flipped her off without looking back and headed for the stairs.

You took the stairs slower than you probably should’ve. Each creaky step felt louder than the last, like the whole damn house was tattling on you.

By the time you reached Joel’s door, you half-considered turning around and blaming it on Ellie. She was the one who started it, after all.

You lifted your hand and knocked softly.

No answer.

“Joel?” you called; voice weirdly tight in your throat.

A beat, then his rough voice came through the wood.

At least, you hadn’t called him dude

“Yeah?”

“Can I… come in?”

Another pause. Then, “Yeah.”

You pushed the door open to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, fiddling with the strap of his watch like it had personally offended him. He didn’t look up right away, and when he did, his brown eyes met yours, a little guarded, a little vulnerable and everything hit you right in the chest.

“Hey,” you said softly, stepping inside and closing the door behind you.

He made a low sound in response that came out as more of a grunt.

You chewed your bottom lip, feeling your palms go a little clammy.

“Listen… I, uh. I wanted to say sorry.”

That got his attention. He straightened, frowning slightly. “For what?”

“For—” you exhaled, gesturing vaguely. “The whole bro, dude, thing. I know it probably sounds dumb but… Ellie kind of pointed out I do it a lot. To you. And I didn’t mean to make you feel like…” you trailed off, not sure how to finish the sentence without sounding like an idiot.

Joel set the watch down and finally gave you his full attention, his brow furrowed.

“Like what?”

You swallowed. “Like you’re just some guy to me.”

That’s it. You had confessed it.

But the room went quiet. The kind of quiet that felt heavy and you felt the rush up to your cheeks.

If Ellie had played a joke on you…

Joel’s jaw tightened, and he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.

“Well,” he said gruffly, “I’m not mad. Just…I kinda wish you’d call me something else.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Yeah?” you smiled, shyly.

“Yeah.”

You took a cautious step closer. “Like what?”

He gave a small, crooked smile, a little shy, a little rough around the edges. “I dunno. Something different to bro” he said, making a sign with his fingers.”

A soft laugh bubbled out of you. “I can do that.”

Another step closer. You were standing right in front of him now, and Joel tilted his head up to look at you. His gaze was warm and steady in a way that made your stomach flip.

“Okay then,” you said, voice quieter now. “How about… Joel?”

He chuckled “Really? What if I call you kid?” he challenged.

You opened your mouth in offense, hand to your chest “I’m not a kid.”

“I know, you are past thirty-five already.” He said, smiling at you.

You gaped at him. “Excuse me? Past thirty-five? I’m in my prime, old man.”

He laughed outright at that, the warmth in his eyes unmistakable now. “Yeah, you are.” The way he said it, softly, honest, a little rough around the edges, sent a flush creeping up your neck.

You cleared your throat, trying to recover.

“Okay, so… deal. No more bro, no more dude.” You said, trying to recover from your own shame, but your heart was pounding like a drum in your chest.

Joel’s smile softened, the teasing still lingering in the corners of his mouth. But then, without another word, he reached out and caught your wrist, not rough, just steady, fingers curling gently around yours like it was the most natural thing between the two of you. This kind of touch.

You looked down at where he held you, then back up at him, breath hitching.

“Come here,” he murmured.

And before you could overthink it, before you could make another dumb joke or call him dude by accident, Joel tugged you in and kissed you.

It was this perfect, slow, finally kind of kiss, the kind that said everything neither of you had been brave enough to say out loud. His hand slid from your wrist to your waist, steadying you, anchoring you to him, while your fingers instinctively found the fabric of his shirt.

When he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his voice was low and rough.

“Been wanting to do that for a while. You had been killing this whole time with the dude thing”

A crooked grin tugged at your lips, the flush in your cheeks impossible to hide now.

“Sorry,” you murmured, though you didn’t sound sorry at all.

Joel shook his head, his thumb brushing a slow arc against your waist. “Yeah, you are. But it’s alright.” His voice dropped even lower, the corners of his mouth twitching. “I got something better to call you now anyway.”

Your stomach flipped. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

He smiled, warm and a little smug. “Mine.”

And you swear you could’ve died happy right now.

#pedro pascal #pedropascal #joelmiller #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #jackson!joel #pedro pascal fandom

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lonely-ey3s · 4 months ago

Text

Heartlines | Chapter One

pairing: harry castillo (materialists) x f!reader

chapter summary : Are you hard to love, or have you not found the right person? After you meet Harry Castillo at your sister's wedding, he shows you what it means to be in love. He shows you how to be loved.

chapter warnings: fluff, slow burn, angst, Harry speaks Spanish (translations will be there), reader has a somewhat emotionally abusive mother, unwanted touching, drinking, vomiting, switched POV's.

word count: 10k

a/n: alright here it is! chapters will be every other sunday as ride or die will be launched next weekend !! this also somewhat requested by @iheartoldermem so thank them !!

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics and @cafekitsune

Masterlist

'It’s better this way’ is something you’d constantly tell yourself. A little lonelier but better. It wasn't ideal, but it was safer for your heart this way.

Just like it wasn't ideal that you were sitting at your little sister’s bachelorette party with a mocktail in your hand, sober.

You sat there while everyone else in the bridal party was on the dance floor, with some random man that wasn’t their boyfriend or husband grinding up on them.

You didn't mind sitting back and watching other people have fun, perhaps make stupid decisions. But doing it sober?

However, you had one job tonight as the maid of honor: get her to the wedding tomorrow morning and get her down the aisle without stupid, drunken decisions being made.

This meant attending this party and sticking it out in this god awful strip club.

So you watched your sister like a hawk. You sat there sipping on your drink, keeping your head clear and your eyes open. Watching her dance with some fuck boy from out of town grab her ass and grind up against her.

You watched them dance together for a few songs, letting her enjoy her drunken bad decision at the rate it was going.

You heard her hiccup and then saw her shake her head as a ‘No thank you’ slurred out of her mouth. You also watched him persist on taking her back to his place, his hand on her hip, smirking at her as he tried pulling her off the dance floor.

You stepped down from your barstool and came over, putting yourself between the two of them. “Alright, I think it’s time to move on to greener, more available pastures, buddy… the one isn't available... and has said 'no'..." You gently pushed him away from her, your lips in a tight smile.

He chuckled, his eyes clocking your body up and down, checking you out, biting his bottom lip, “Well well, I think I see a greener ass… I mean greener grass right in front of me!” he smirked, “Name’s Spencer, what’s yours?” he crowded your space, taking your hand in his.

You grinned and chuckled, taking your hand back quickly, then tsked. “You are so barking up the wrong tree, Spencer…” You chuckled and shook your head in disbelief- the audacity of men never ceased to amaze you. “Keep it movin’, bud!"

You turned towards your sister, effectively cutting off engaging further with him.

He sighed and turned around as well, walking away to another bridesmaid who was dancing across the dance floor.

She had a face of utter fear as reality set in. “Oh god, I think I’m gonna be sick…” she said before putting her hand over her mouth and gagging.

You shook your head again at her reaction and chuckled, “Alright, I think that’s our cue to wrap this party up for you, little miss thing…” You wrapped her arm around yours and walked with her to the bathroom.

She did her best in the incredibly ridiculous high heels to walk with you, but most of the travel was you dragging her along.

Once in the bathroom, she ran into the stall before collapsing to her knees and coughing as she vomited into the toilet.

You weren’t too far behind her, quickly gathering her hair up and holding it up behind her. You took a deep breath and sighed deeply. “There ya go… let it out,” you encouraged, leaning down to rub her back.

She coughed and took a few deep breaths before she vomited again, groaning.

After a few moments, you leaned over and grabbed her some toilet paper. “Here, wipe your mouth hun…” you said softly.

She looked up and smiled lazily, “You’re such a good sister…” she hiccupped, taking the bunch of toilet paper from you and wiping her mouth. “You’re going to make such a good wife one day too…” she giggled, her eyes fluttering closed.

You chuckled, “You’re so drunk and delusional…” you tsked.

“How so?” she asked, then almost immediately bent over as she coughed again, vomiting more into the toilet.

“You’re good… keep it comin’... get it all out.” you encouraged gently, ignoring her question.

After getting it all out, she leaned back and laid her head against the stall wall, closing her eyes. “Just because Robbie and Damon didn’t work out doesn’t mean there isn’t someone out there for you…” she said before opening her eyes and looking up at you.

Ever since she got engaged, she had been determined to find you someone as well. She wanted you just as happy as she was with her fiance, Ben.

The number of blind dates or double dates you had been on in the last six months just to keep her happy was astounding.

However, none of them wanted to settle down, be in a committed relationship. All they wanted was a ‘casual’ relationship. To them you weren’t good enough for commitment as you knew most of them were now exclusively dating someone else.

You didn’t fit their boxes, weren't good enough to be the ‘forever’ in their life. Hell, 13 dates later, you began to think, it must be you.

Something must be wrong with you.

You must have some immediate invisible sign on your head that says something like ‘Step on up and break my heart’ or ‘Fuck me over’.

The last date you went on a few weeks ago was the straw that broke your camel's back.

Lila set you up with one of Ben’s coworkers. Some narcissist who thought just because he had a yearly salary of over $2 million that money would earn his way into your pants.

When you thanked him for a good night but didn't invite him in, the things he said to you in anger and obvious sexual frustration– created the first brick of your now indestructible wall.

So that was it.

You swore it all off. It wasn’t going to happen again if you could help it.

‘You can’t get hurt if you don’t open your heart.’

You leaned against the wall and folded your arms. “Lila, it's so much more than that, and you know it…” You bit the inner part of your cheek, “Just… you tried, and I appreciate that…” you said softly before your voice changed, sounding a bit firmer, “...but let what’s dead, fuckin’ rest in peace.” you shook your head looking down at your shoes, letting out a breath of something. Anger? Sadness? Frustration? Maybe all of the above.

She sighed softly, defeated. “Fine… I’ll leave it.”

After a few moments of silence, she cleared her throat. “What time is it?”

You pulled your phone out of your purse. “It’s just past 2 am…" you tsked "We should get you home. We’ve got an early morning…” You put your phone away and held out your hand. “We need to be at the venue by 9 am…”

She smiled and reached up for your hand. “What would I do without you?”

You pulled her up to her feet and chuckled, the tension breaking between the two of you. “I don’t want to know the answer to that question…” You teased.

She chuckled and held onto your arm as the two of you headed back to her place to spend the night.

You had her up and at the venue just before 9 am, sitting in the glam chair with a glass of ginger ale and another with an Alka-seltzer on standby as she was feeling slightly hungover.

After glam, hair, and getting into your dress, you came over to her.

She was still getting her hair done. “Is there anything last minute I need to get you?” you asked, putting a bracelet on your wrist, smiling at how beautiful she looked.

She smiled and looked around, making mental notes of what she needed. “Oh! I need my bouquet and grandma’s bracelet! Dad said he had it with him…” She looked back at you.

You nodded. “I’ll go find the florist and Dad…” You smiled. “Hang tight…” You maneuvered your way through the room and made your way downstairs to the ceremony room to where you’d first look for the florist.

You looked around for anyone with flowers and saw all of the groomsmen. They were all in a small circle, putting their boutonnieres on each other's lapels.

You snapped and then clapped excitedly, “Bingo!”

You put on a smile and walked over, “Hey guys, sorry but, quick question… where did you all get those?” you pointed to one of their chests, eyes bright with hope.

Austin, Ben’s old college roommate, turned and smiled at you. “Uh, I’m not sure. Harry brought them over. You could ask him…” he said daftly.

You bit your tongue, holding in what you wanted to say, so you held your hands out in front of you to accentuate the sarcasm about to come out of your mouth, “Great, great… now who’s Harry?” you tilted your head, chuckling lightly, mildly frustrated as time was ticking.

“I’m Harry. Who’s askin’?” you heard a voice behind you, one with a soft timber but a strong and commanding tone.

You turned around, and the most beautiful man stood in front of you. He was broad, yet appeared welcoming and soft. His hair was tidy yet somewhat rugged as he was pushed back fashionably. He looked expensive but not too snobby in his black and white suit.

He was smiling at you with the biggest brown eyes you’d ever seen.

You nodded slowly, whispering back, “Harry…” then smiled and lightly chuckled as you snapped out of your daze, “Um… flowers! Where did you get those boutonnieres?” You gestured to the one on his lapel.

He looked to where you were gesturing then looked back up at you as he used his thumb to rub his bottom lip, his eyes drinking you in for a moment subtly, “The florist, she came to us…” he held out his hand to you, offering to shake yours, “Sorry, I don’t think we’ve met, you are?” he smiled warmly.

You saw someone with a bunch of flowers walk behind him and gasped, “You!” You shouted, waving your finger at them.

“Mrs. Flower… person!” you went to walk away but turned to Harry and smiled gesturing to yourself, “Sorry, um I'm... uhm the maid of honor, and one on a time crunch… nice to meet you Harry.” you did a small wave then picked up the front of your dress and turned towards the person carrying flowers, “Excuse me, florist person!” you chased after them.

Harry chuckled as he watched you chase after that person, turning back around to talk with the group of men.

You finally caught up with the person carrying the flowers, who connected you with the main florist– who, ironically, was already heading up to give the bridal group their flowers.

You took yours and made sure your sister was good before heading back down to then find your dad and get your grandma’s bracelet before rushing back upstairs and putting it on your sister’s wrist as the ceremony was moments away from starting.

“You look beautiful Lila…” you said touching her cheek, “I’m so happy for you and Ben…” you teared up and looked over her features, “Ah, you two are going to be so happy…” you let out a chuckle which made a tear fall down your cheek.

She put her hand on your cheek as well and smiled, “I know one day, whether you want to believe it or not, you’ll have this too.”

She teared up when you shook your head, smiling sadly before she whispered, “Everyone deserves a ‘Ben’...” She softly chuckled, a few tears falling down her cheeks.

You quickly took a tissue and dabbed the tears up. “Hey, no tears, you’ll ruin your makeup…” you softly laughed. “You can’t cry until the altar when you do your vows!” you teased.

She softly laughed and nodded, letting you fix her makeup. “I love you, sis… thank you for always being here for me.”

You nodded and smiled, “Always.” You held her hands and took a step back, looking over her, “Now, let’s go make you a Mrs. Reynolds!” you grinned.

Just as you said that, the wedding planner came in, headset and clipboard in hand, eyes filled with purpose.

“Ok! It’s time, everyone… places!” She smiled and clapped excitedly, “Bridesmaids and maid of honor, you’ll follow me down to line up. Lila, your dad is waiting out here for you…” She smiled and then walked out.

You looked at her, and she took a deep breath, her hands becoming clammy all of a sudden.

“Hey, I’ll see you when you get to the end of the aisle, yeah?” You smiled softly, attempting to snap her out of her thoughts.

She nodded and then smiled, “Yeah, I’m good. Go!” she giggled.

You grabbed your small bouquet and then quickly walked out of the room to catch up with the group.

You all got downstairs to gather behind the big doors that would open when the music started.

All 10 of you were being shoved together by the wedding coordinator and her assistant in a double file line. Men on the right, women on the left.

The group dwindled down, and then you were taken by the arm by the assistant, murmuring to herself, “Lastly, the maid of honor with the best man… perfect!” she said out loud as she stood you next to a familiar face.

Harry offered his arm and smiled down at you. “I’m sorry, your name is 'maid of honor', isn't it?” he teased.

You chuckled and slid your hand under his arm, holding onto his bicep and placing the flowers where they were supposed to be held, “Yes, but that's my alter ego - my real name is Y/N… you know, kinda like Batman…” You joked.

He chuckled, “If I get to walk down the aisle with Batman– that’s the ultimate win in my book.” he wiggled his arm that you were holding onto softly.

You smiled and looked down, making sure you looked good before you looked up at him, and bounced back, “Well, glad I can provide you with the experience of being with Gotham’s mightiest hero…” you looked toward the doors opening and the music starting to play.

He liked how witty you were, how you genuinely made him laugh and smile.

You whispered, leaning in slightly, “Although, I am sorry to disappoint… not to give you the full experience. The suit is in dry cleaning…” you joked.

Harry snorted out another chuckle. The wedding planner’s eyes darted towards the two of you as she stood beside the door's entrance, counting when to send the next pair down the aisle.

Both of you saw her gaze, but instead of it making you quiet, it made you giggle, which only made him chuckle a little louder.

She put a finger to her lips to signal for you to be quiet. Her eyes filled with frustration- the two of you being childish in her book.

You softly cleared your throat and stopped, nodding at her apologetically. Harry smiled at her and gave her the zipping his lips motion and then motioned throwing away the key behind his back, making her only narrow her eyes more at him.

He softly chuckled and nodded at her, mouthing ‘Sorry…’.

The group moved up a pace as one of the couples started walking down the aisle. After another couple of counts, another group went, which triggered everyone to move up.

Harry leaned in, keeping his eyes forward, and whispered, “For the record, I like this ‘suit’ a lot better… this color brings out your eyes.” he put his hand over yours on his bicep for a moment before taking it away and keeping it at his side as you both stepped forward again.

You couldn’t help but blush at his touch. Something so small, a simple touch, was making your heart smack against your chest and a flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

You kept your eyes forward, leaning into him, challenging, “You can’t say that; you haven’t seen me in the actual suit yet…” you whispered back, taking another step forward.

He bit the inside of his cheek and smirked, then went to say something back when the wedding planner cleared her throat and whispered to you both, “Big smiles and walk in 5…4…3…2… go…” She gently nudged Harry forward by pushing the back of his shoulder.

You both took a step forward and began walking down the aisle at a steady pace, smiling toward the crowd as they were all watching you.

Halfway down the aisle, he leaned over and whispered, looking down at you, “Tell me then, how does the bride know Batman?” he turned his head back to smile at the crowd, the same as you were doing.

You smiled as you walked, whispering back, “Well… in this multiverse, Batman’s parents didn’t get brutally murdered– she also has a little sister.” You nodded over to your mom and grandparents sitting in the front row. He looked over and nodded at them, then connecting the dots- he knew exactly who you were now.

He looked down at you and smiled warmly. “Ah, I knew I recognized you…”

You looked up at him. “Sorry?” you raised your eyebrow, confused.

The end of the aisle came, and he smirked a little, leaving you both on the perfect cliffhanger, “I guess this is the end of the line for us… guess we’ll have to catch up later then?” he winked before the two of you split, going your separate ways.

He stood next to Ben, putting his hands in front of himself, and smiled out towards the crowd.

You walked to where you needed to be and peeked over at him, wondering how the hell he knew who you were.

Your thoughts were paused when you looked down the aisle as the music switched to signal your sister’s arrival, your focus automatically on her.

What you didn’t see was that Harry’s eyes weren’t watching down the aisle for Lila– they were on you.

The ceremony was beautiful. Your sister looked breathtaking– it was everything she wanted.

Ben’s vows to her were heartfelt and made almost everyone tear up or cry, including yourself.

At one point, you caught Harry looking over at you, his eyes warm, full of adoration and sincerity. You suddenly became shy and quickly looked down at the bouquet you were holding, noticing your cheeks feeling warm, your heart pounding quickly again.

Fuck. How the hell was he getting under your skin like this? You were so against getting involved with anyone.

However, the way he would look at you, how he was so easily making you feel this bashful and shy- it was just frustrating.

'It's those damn brown eyes' you thought to yourself. You were a sucker for men with big puppy dog eyes- which he had and you knew was an expert in using.

You would avoid him the rest of the evening. Nothing can happen if you just avoid him, right?

However, after the happy couple were pronounced husband and wife and started to walk down the aisle, you realized that the instructions were to regroup with your aisle partner and walk back down, following behind the happy couple.

Well shit. So much for avoiding him.

'Ok one more walk down then we will stay away from Mr. Brown Eyes' you told yourself as you saw Harry look over at you.

Once your sister and Ben started to walk down, he walked to the middle of the altar and held out his arm to you, softly smiling, “Shall we?”

You gave him a small polite smile and nodded, you gently held onto his arm and walked with him down the aisle.

You both started cheering with the rest of the crowd when Ben stopped at the end of the aisle, dipping your sister down and giving her a deep and slow kiss.

You chuckled when your sister looked back at you, giggling, looking happier than ever.

You blew her a kiss and gave her a thumbs up. She returned it and then nodded at Harry and winked at you.

You're kidding me.

'You cheeky little fucker' You immediately knew what she had done. She set this up. You should’ve known better. Your sister had literally been trying to be a matchmaker. This was a new level, though, but you should've known nonetheless.

The only problem was one thing.

This was none of this was her doing. You just so happened to hit it off with Ben's best man.

When she had set you up with other guys, she never considered Harry. Lila never thought you two would hit it off, frankly. You were from two different worlds. He was from one end and you from the other. He was also just as hard-headed in some ways as you were.

She and Ben never thought to give either of you the chance together; however, there it was– an obvious spark.

And it’s not that you didn’t like Harry or find him attractive. He seemed sweet, and from the way you two were bouncing back and forth, you got along. He was also incredibly handsome. He was your type, ticked all of your boxes from an outside perspective. All of that was great– and if you were in a different place, you’d dive in.

But you weren’t. You still felt broken.

The last 2 years of relationships and failed dates just ruined your self esteem. You just were not ready to open up your heart or even try to give a guy a chance– even if it was someone like Harry. You were too afraid of getting hurt once again.

You continued to walk to the reception hall, splitting away from your sister and Ben as they went to take photos outside the venue.

You let go of Harry’s arm and saw your mom motioning for you to come over to her.

You nodded at her. “I uh, I’ve been summoned…” you chuckled softly and turned to him. “It was lovely to meet you, Harry…” You held out your hand for him to shake.

He tilted his head a fraction and looked down at you, smiling warmly, “It was lovely to meet you as well…” he took your hand, and instead of shaking it, he leaned down and kissed it gently, keeping eye contact with you.

For once you were speechless. And before you had time to react, one of the groomsmen grabbed his shoulder, pulling him away, “Open bar, man! Come on!” they said excitedly.

Harry looked back at you and smiled, “I’ll find you later?” he shouted as he was being dragged by the arm.

You nodded and smiled politely. “Sure…” You chuckled and then walked towards your mom, putting on a fake smile.

During the reception, you did what you could to avoid him. You put yourself in every other social situation or task to act busy, rarely sitting down or remaining alone.

Mainly not allowing yourself to slip into his ‘brown-eyed spell’ as you dubbed it.

You could feel his gaze on you from time to time, and once when you were waiting for your drink at the bar you clocked him coming your way. You acted like someone call you and rushed off.

He brushed it off, knowing not only were you the maid of honor but the brides sister which he assumed came with more than normal responsibilities during a wedding.

He was confident that one way or another, he'd reconnect with you.

He was sure of it.

Halfway through, it was time for toasts.

Your sister looked at you and nodded after the DJ announced it, signaling she wanted you to go first.

You took a deep breath and stood from your seat, taking your glass of champagne in your hand and then gently tapping the knife on it. Everyone started to calm down and look at you.

You went to start when someone ran over and handed you a microphone, “Oh.. god, ok…” you suddenly got nervous so you chuckled shyly, “Uhm… good evening everyone. For those that don’t know me, I am Lila’s big sister and the maid of honor.” you smiled softly and then pulled out your phone, “I just wanted to say a few words and wishes to the happy couple tonight.”

You looked up to where your sister and Ben were sitting and let out a breath. “I uhm… I first met Ben when he was standing on my parent's front porch with a bouquet of lilies 3 years ago— pacing back and forth, practicing how he was going to tell Lila how pretty as he rehearsed it to the wall.” You smiled at Ben, and he chuckled and nodded, remembering.

You continued, “We said hello, I gave the usual ‘You hurt her, I’ll kill you and make it look like an accident’ talk…” You joked and shrugged nonchalantly, and the crowd chuckled.

“He took her to see a play. I believe they went to see Phantom of the Opera, right?” You looked at them, and they nodded.

“Anyway– the importance of this was she had gone out with 3 other guys before Ben that month. She’s also not a big theatre person…” You looked at her, “Which, who doesn’t like the theatre?” you teased.

The crowd chuckled and you smiled and looked back at your phone and set it down on the table, “But after all three of those dates– she didn’t come home and have the stupid idiot, ‘I’m in love’ smile plastered on her face, the one that has been stuck on her face ever since she went out with Ben.” you smiled at your sister and she teared up, nodding at you.

“You’ve made each other smile brightly… warmly… and with every ounce of love and adoration since that night. I hope that everyone can find that type of love in their lifetime; that they find their Ben, their Lila.” You nodded at them.

You cleared your throat and took a breath, feeling yourself tear up, “There's, uh, there's a poem that I found by Kiersten White that says,

‘And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you, and I'd choose you’...”

You took a moment and looked around the room, and saw Harry, he was looking at you the way Ben looked at Lila when they first met– like he was content. He was looking at you like you hung the moon and stars.

Your heart skipped a beat, more butterflies erupted in your stomach, and the devil betrayed you because a blush bloomed across your cheeks as well as a small smile.

You quickly looked away and found your sister and Ben, swallowing down the jackhammer that was currently trying to break down your walls.

“I, uhm...” you let out a shaky breath, trying to refocus.

You flexed your hand at your side anxiously and then took a deep breath, “I can trust that in any lifetime, in any world, you two would find each other."

You sighed and teared up seeing your sister wiping her eyes, "I can’t ask for better comfort… to know my best friend… my little sister will know what it is to be loved in every circumstance.” you lightly chuckled seeing Ben lean over and kiss Lila’s cheek, making a tear fall.

Your lip quivered slightly as you began to speak again so you chuckled it away and shook your head, looking down for a moment and then back up at Ben.

“Ben, welcome to the family… I love you like a brother and couldn’t be more excited for you and my sister’s union today.” you smiled and tsked feeling more tears threatening to fall, “So with that, I’d like to toast to the happy couple, may your days be filled with love, laughter, and light– cheers.” you raised your glass and so did everyone else.

You nodded at your sister, assuring her you were ok, just happy for her.

She had tears falling down her cheeks, nodding back at you, then mouthed, ‘I love you’ to which you mouthed back.

After you sat back down, Ben’s brother, one of the other groomsmen, proposed a toast as well. To which was mainly sharing some embarrassing stories of him but turned out quite heartfelt and tender at the end.

After the toasts were done, it was time for the couple’s first dance.

The slow music that you sister and Ben had picked out started playing over the speakers, and the lights dimmed. You turned around in your chair to watch them on the dance floor. You leaned your chin against the back of the chair.

You were over the moon for your sister, so happy for her to find her happiness.

However, in this moment, you realize just how long you have put on a happy face. Since her engagement, you’d not let yourself feel anything but that- forged happiness.

Because as you watched them dance, whispering words of love to each other– a part of you felt sadness, and maybe some envy.

You can’t remember the last time you’d felt that vulnerable, that free with someone. The last time you felt a fraction of what you’d imagine she was feeling was back in high school at your senior prom.

‘God, that’s pathetic…’ you thought. That was over 15 years ago.

You shook your head and refocused, beginning to look around the room at all the happy couples as they watched them dance– observing their expressions, their reactions to their partners sitting next to them, surely whispering words of love as well.

You were so lost in your thoughts, so deep into the moment, that you didn’t hear the DJ announce for everyone else to join them on the dance floor for the next slow dance.

Your parents stood and started walking out to the dance floor together, pulling you from your thoughts.

You smiled at them and then looked back and around at all the happy couples joining them before you stood from your chair. You leaned down to grab your glass to go get another drink when you heard someone clear their throat behind you.

You leaned back up and turned around to find Harry, smiling softly at you with his hand outstretched to you, “May I have this dance?” using those brown puppy dog eyes to his advantage.

You looked at him and softly chuckled, feeling shy and nervous under his gaze. “I uh… I don’t know how to…” you started, trying to come up with an excuse.

“I’ll teach you…” He held his hand out a little more, “Just one dance?” he smiled just a little softer, tilting his head to the side playfully.

You bit the inside of your cheek, contemplating, and then sighed softly, “Just one…” you put your glass down as you smiled a little and then took his hand gently- this time a spark of electricity zinged up throughout your body.

He walked with your hand in his out to the dance floor and put the two of you in the middle, lost in the crowd, but when he turned to stand in front of you, it was like the rest of the world disappeared.

It was just you and him.

“So you’re going to hold my hand like this…” he moved your hand in his slowly, looking at your hands together then he looked back down at you, “Then your other hand can either rest on my chest… or on my shoulder or around my back…” he explained quietly, his expression was soft and tender.

You swallowed nervously and blushed. You nodded before putting it softly around his back and resting your hand on the back of his shoulder.

“I’m going to put my other hand on your waist…” he gently put his hand on your waist, pulling you closer to him slowly, your faces now impossibly close.

You couldn’t help but smile at how close you were to him, slightly blushing deeper.

His cologne smelled of bourbon and woodsmoke– it was intoxicating. It was comforting. It calmed you.

His hands were gentle and soft in the way he held you– like you were something to cherish. You felt like the only person in the world, in his world.

He softly spoke, interrupting your thoughts, “...and then all we’re going to do is step and sway back and forth…” he began to lead, and you followed.

The music was soft as you swayed with him. There was like a bubble you were both in– everything around you felt blurred or muffled.

After a few moments of silence, you looked up at him and tilted your head.

“So, you said you recognized me earlier…” You let out a nervous chuckle. “Should I be concerned?” you teased.

He immediately looked down at you and brought your hand in his, closer to his chest. This effectively pulled you a little closer so you two could hear each other better over the loud music.

He chuckling softly, “No– nothing like that. I’ve just been to your sister’s house. I’ve seen a few photos of you around her place…” he smiled softly down at you.

You nodded. “Ah, I see…” You let out a dramatic breath of relief.

He let out a soft chuckle again, then scoffed, “What? Did you think me a stalker or something?” he acted offended with the biggest smile across his face.

You smiled and pulled your head back a fraction, “No! No… I just… I don’t have very good luck with guys, that’s all…” You looked down for a moment, chuckling at his playfulness.

He hummed. “How so?” he asked, still looking down at you. Noticing you slowly opening up to him. Instinctively, his thumb started softly rubbing up and down on your waist as if he was trying to soothe you, coax you to open up to him.

You looked up at him and saw something in the way he looked at you. He was looking at you like there was something worth looking at.

However, this was something that immediately set off warning bells in your head. Ones that sounded the alarm to ‘man the walls’, ‘weapons at the ready’ type of alarm.

Ones that have been up for the last few months whenever something feels like this happens. Or when it feels like it’s getting real. Mechanisms that, over time, you've used to try to keep your heart safe.

You bit the inside of your cheek, and that wall went up– closing yourself back off. “Just… not had the best luck is all.” You cleared your throat and looked at the flower on his chest to focus on something that wasn’t his gaze.

He swallowed and bit his lip as he looked down at you, noticing the way you were closing yourself up again.

He’d known about what you’d been through, why you were closing up.

Unfortunately, he knew a few of the men that disrespected your time as they were men he and Ben worked with. Men he didn't understand why Ben and Lila would set you up with other than they were single and mutual friends.

Ben and he were good friends. They hung out often as they not only worked together but they had also had been friends since childhood, so there was that element too- a brotherhood.

That being said, whenever you came home early from a date and called Lila with the news and he was over at their house, he heard how Lila would try to talk you through it.

He was at Ben and Lila's when your last serious relationship ended on account of Damon, your ex, cheating on you. The sound of your cries on the other side of the phone as you sobbed and questioned your worth– no one should ever go through that.

After the dating apps ultimately turned you off to the idea of love– Lila would always try to set you up with mutual friends of hers or Ben’s– insisting since they knew them, it'd work out.

For some reason, though, he was never in the running– they never offered him.

He didn’t know why– maybe it was the different lifestyles? Perhaps Lila just didn’t think the two of you as compatible?

He never knew why, but today he confirmed there was something between the two of you. There was a spark.

He felt it.

He knew you felt it, too.

From the way you’d smile at him or the way you melted into his touch, he knew– now he just needed to convince you to give him a chance. He just needed a way in to start breaking down those walls you kept reinforcing.

He hummed and looked over at Ben and Lila as they danced. “I’ve had my fair share of bad luck too lately…” he admitted, trying to find common ground. “I took someone out last week… turns out they were just in it for the wrong reasons.”

You looked up at him, eyes expressing empathy. “Yeah? What reason? If you don't mind me asking...”

He tsked, “She was in it for the money.”

You chuckled, “You’re kidding me…” You chuckled more, thinking it was a joke, but then you realized he wasn’t laughing along.

You quickly stopped, and your smile faded. “Wait, you’re not kidding…” you realized. "Fuck... I'm so sorry..." you looked down, cursing again under your breath.

He couldn’t help but smile widely. “No, it's ok."

He waited for you to look back up before continuing "I, uh… god, how do I say this?” he chuckled.

You chuckled, now embarrassed but chuckled nonetheless, “You’re loaded?” you joked.

He chuckled a little louder, turning some heads around you, so he leaned in close to hide his chuckle, making you giggle.

He looked at you, your eyes meeting his, and slowly stopped chuckling, “I uh, I do well for myself… I’ll say that.” he cleared his throat softly.

You nodded and then looked at your hand in his, noticing the ring he was wearing. “Well for yourself? Harry, that ring costs more than a year of my salary…” you teased, smiling back up at him. “Who the hell are you?” you raised your eyebrow playfully.

Boom, there it was– the wall’s foundation cracking.

He took a moment and looked down at you, hearing the song close to ending, so he took a chance- he dove head first.

He smiled and nodded at you, “Let me take you out to dinner, I’ll show you…” he softly rubbed your waist with his thumb, “What do you say?” he leaned in a closer.

No sirens. No alarm bells.

Instead- Boom. One brick down. Bang bang… another.

You blushed, and the smile you had across your face somehow brightened at his boldness.

You took a moment, reading his eyes, trying to find something, anything to tell you to say no, but you couldn’t. He was sure of himself, so sure of you.

You swallowed shyly and went to answer when your dad interrupted, clearing his throat and putting his hand on Harry’s shoulder from behind him, “Mind if I cut in?” he said with a smile on his face, obviously not picking up on what was going on.

Harry’s eyes shot over to your dad's and he chuckled politely, slowly letting go of your waist but not your hand as it fell between you two, away from your dad, “Of course sir…” he looked down at you, “I’ll uh… I’ll find you later?” he said with hope in his tone.

You felt him run his thumb over your knuckles softly, you couldn’t stop the butterflies from erupting deep down.

You bit the inside of your cheek and nodded, “Yeah, find me later…” you gave his hand a small squeeze of reassurance.

He pursed his lips together to try and suppress the grin that was forcing itself on his lips but failed, “I will…” he said softly.

Your dad cleared his throat again, and Harry chuckled nervously and let go of your hand slowly, gently patting your dad's arm, “Good to see you again, Richard…” then walked away, heading towards the bar, looking back over his shoulder at you once more.

Your dad hummed then softly took your hand and positioned himself to dance with you. He caught your eyeline and nodded at you, “How you holding up, kiddo?” he smiled down at you.

You looked up at him and gently smiled, “I’m good– other than my feet killing me, I’m good.” You chuckled.

“Harry wasn’t botherin’ you?” he nodded over his way, raising his eyebrows.

You tsked and sighed, “Dad…” you softly laughed, knowing what he was doing.

He shrugged, “What? Can you blame me for worryin’?” he looked down at you, eyes soft with concern.

You shook your head, “No… no he wasn't.” you looked down and bit your lip, then looked back up at him, your expression softening, “What do you know about Harry? I mean other than he’s a good friend of Ben’s…” you inquired.

He looked out into the distance as he thought about what he had known from speaking to Ben about him previously and then speaking to him earlier today, “He’s some big wig in the city… makes real good money. Uh… I know from speakin’ to him earlier that he’s been good friends with Ben since they were young?” he looked at back you curiously, “Why do you ask?”

You shrugged and looked over at Ben and Lila, avoiding his eye contact, “Just askin’...” you said softly, sighing softly.

Your dad looked over at Harry, who was sitting by the bar, watching the two of you. He smiled softly at your dad– your dad nodded at him politely, then turned back to you, picking up on what he may have just interrupted between the two of you.

He spoke up softly, “If it’s… just in case you’re wonderin’... I know Ben wouldn’t let him near you without a ten-foot pool if he was bad news, right?”

You chuckled softly, looking at Ben, knowing how protective he had always been with you, “Yeah… that’s true.”

He took a breath and cleared his throat, attempting to get your attention. “Bug?”

You looked up at him, your eyes soft and curious. “Yeah, Dad?”

“I know you’re not lookin’ right now, and your heart is still mendin’... but take it from me… don’t let a good thing pass by just because you think you’re not worthy of it.” he looked at you with nothing but love in his eyes, “I love you bug, and I just want you to be happy.”

Your dad was someone who rarely spoke his mind. For him to say any of that shocked you. You took a moment before you smiled and leaned up, kissing his cheek, “I love you too, Dad…”

He smiled, then took your hands, backed up, and slowly spun you around, making you giggle happily as he pulled back and hugged you gently as the song came to an end.

The DJ came onto the audio system, and an old country song that your sister and dad loved started to play. You immediately knew what that meant as you looked at Lila, who was letting go of Ben’s hands.

The DJ announced over the room, “If everyone will please exit the dance floor, we will be havin’ the daddy-daughter dance now…” the music gradually getting a little louder.

Your dad kissed your cheek softly, “I’ll see you later, Bug…” and then walked away towards your sister, leaving you on the dance floor.

You moved off the floor with everyone and then looked towards the bar, expecting to see Harry there, but he wasn’t anywhere to be found.

You looked around and tried to find him in the reception hall but couldn’t see him, he just seemed to have vanished. He was just there; where could he have gone?

The longer you stood there looking around, your heart dropped a little.

After a few moments, you shook your head in disappointment and sighed. You cursed yourself for thinking that maybe something was happening between the two of you. The insecurity creeping itself back in.

You could feel your ears hear up the more embarrassed you felt, a lump forming in the back of your throat as well.

You clenched your jaw and breathed out a breath through your nostrils, grabbing your phone before you looked up and started walking over to the bar to reinforce that wall that had started to come down.

“Marinti, please?” you looked at the bartender. She nodded and smiled, starting to make it.

You sat on one of the stools and tucked your hair behind your ear, watching the woman make your drink, blocking out everything else around you.

Not long after, a young man came up to you, one of Ben’s old college roommates that Lila had tried to set you up with weeks ago, who had bailed at the last minute.

“Hey, you’re Lila’s sister, right?” he hiccuped, obviously intoxicated.

You turned your head and politely smiled, “Guilty as charged...” then looked back to the bartender as she handed you your drink, smiling and nodding at her to thank her.

“I’ll uh, buy you a drink…” he smirked, “I’m Diego…” he held his hand out, leaning against the bar on his side, crowding your space.

You chuckled softly, taking a sip of your drink. “Well, Diego, as flattering as that I’m sure would be— it’s an open bar, so no one needs to buy anyone a drink… it’s all been paid for...” you said, sounding a bit sarcastic and annoyed.

He didn’t catch the tone and snapped his fingers, like he’d had an epiphany, “Oh! You’re right!” he chuckled, “You… you’re so smart. Lila said you were smart…” he scooted a little closer to you, tapping the bar to ask for another drink from the bartender.

You took another sip of your drink, and nodded, “I am smart.” you then sighed at him looking at you up and down, feeling grossed out by the way his eyes darkened lustfully, “I’m also not interested in whatever tree you’re tryna bark up Diego…” you tightly smiled, now annoyed by his presence, taking another sip of your drink.

He frowned and tsked, “Oh come on, don’t be like that baby…” he put his hand on the small of your back, which made you choke on your drink.

You coughed then turned and shoved him off you, “I am not your baby and I won’t repeat it, back off asshole…” you warned.

He tilted his head, and a new darkness fell over him, one that raised a huge red flag in your mind.

He bit his lip, then raised his eyebrow, offended by your action. So he did what any tiny dicked asshole would do and attempted to make you feel just as small.

“Man, you know... they were all right about you… you’re a fuckin’ mess.” he spat, not liking the rejection he’d just received.

You felt your face turn red and tears start to well up, your heart beating so damn loudly that you could hear it in your ears.

You shook your head and clenched your teeth, looking down at your drink then picked it up, “You know what? Maybe I am a mess… but you just showed how tiny your dick is by that antic.” you splashed your drink on him and then smiled tightly, “Good luck scoring with someone else tonight smelling like that." you set your glass down.

"If there’s one thing that will dry a pussy up— it’s a man that smells like bad news…” You then quickly grabbed your things and walked past him towards the main exit doors.

You needed fresh air. You needed to get away from all this. It was all too much.

Harry had to step away to take a work call, so he moved to the bathroom area to find some quiet.

When he started walking back to the bar and saw you splash Diego with your drink and then storm out the other end of the hall. He weaved through the party crowd as fast as he could to follow you, concern written on his face.

When you opened the doors of the venue, you were met with a bitter cold gust of wind, making your breath hitch in the back of your throat.

You stepped out and let the door fall closed behind you. Your breathing then quickly became frantic and quick, emotions crashing down on you.

You felt suffocated by this whole night, by this whole last week. Diego just shut off the damn ventilator that was helping you breath.

You moved your feet forward and kept walking, beginning to somewhat hyperventilate, tears now falling.

You whispered as you quickly walked down the long set of stairs, needing to get as far away from that damn building as quickly possible, “F-fuck… fuck him… fuck all of it…” you muttered, softly sobbing.

You kept walking and just so happened to stroll into a vineyard area to the left, hugging your arms as you walked in the cold.

You felt so embarrassed, so humiliated by what Diego had said.

Is that what they all thought of you? Were you that big of a mess? Is that what Harry picked up on? Was that why he left?

Through the tears that partially blinded your vision, you saw a fountain in the middle of the vineyard. Fairy lights were gathered in the middle, creating an almost peaceful atmosphere.

It was beautiful. It was sanctuary.

You started to jog slowly to it, picking up the front of your dress.

Harry burst through the front doors, softly calling your name, expecting you to be there but when he didn’t find you he looked around, buttoning up his jacket due to the cold, “Fuck… where are you?” he asked himself.

His eyes searched the area.

There were only two things you could have done: hail a taxi and leave— which you wouldn’t do. He knew your sister would never let you live that down. That or escape somewhere close by.

He walked down the stairs, and then he saw the vineyard off to the side. Something in his gut told him to go that way, so he did.

He followed the path, looking down every quiet corner or empty bench.

When he got to the end of it and saw you by the fountain, sitting on the edge, your fingers dancing across the water— he let go of his breath.

He softened at the image before him, taking in the simple yet overwhelming beauty you were to him.

He went to walk but then stopped for a moment and swallowed before clearing his throat, trying not to startle or scare you, “You know, when you said to find you later, I was thinkin’ more by the bar or on the dance floor…” he teased as he put his hands in his pockets as he started walking towards you.

You turned around and saw him and for a split second, your heart leapt. You felt a sense of happiness, relief– but then that stupid insecurity overshadowed it and drop-kicked it out of your being.

You quickly looked back down at your lap, sadly chuckling, “I’m sorry. I thought you left. I couldn’t find you after I was finished with my dad…” You turned back towards the water and wiped your eyes on the back of your hand, hoping he didn’t see.

He tilted his head as saw you wipe your tears. “I made you a promise, querida…” he said and then sat down on the edge of the fountain, turning his head to look at you, “I’m a man of my word.”

You nodded, keeping your eyes on the water, little fish coming up to your fingertips, “You’re a rarity amongst men if that’s the case…” then scoffed out a chuckle.

He let the moment sit in silence, letting you have the peace he could tell you needed.

The music from the reception hall was loud enough you could hear it from where the two of you were.

He listened to the music, and as it began to slow down, an instrumental version of 'Your Needs, My Needs' by Noah Kahan started to play.

He stood and turned to face you, extending his hand, “We never got to finish our dance…” his eyes soft, inviting. His smile was tender and gentle.

You looked up at him and then his hand, everything in your body cemented you where you sat. Everything was telling you not to reach up and take his hand, but when you levetated to your feet and took his hand, it almost felt like it was a gravitational pull– it was magnetic.

He pulled you softly to the middle of the courtyard, then let go of your hand. “First things first…” he took off his suit jacket and then wrapped it around your shoulders. “Can’t have you catchin’ a cold, can we?”

You put your arms through the sleeves. It drowned you.

You looked down at yourself and couldn’t help but giggle at how ridiculous you must look.

He chuckled and took a step back to look at you, “Much better…” he stepped back and then effortlessly took your hand again. “Now come ‘ere…” then put his hand on your waist, pulling you close.

You blushed so red that you felt like there might be steam coming from how hot your cheeks felt against the bitter cold at the way he was with you.

Your other hand instinctively landed on his shoulder, lightly holding onto it. You looked down to suppress the smile that had been plastered across your lips.

He swayed with the music, smiling to himself, knowing he was pulling you out of that shell, knocking down that wall again.

He waited a few moments, then tempo changed he chuckled and took a small step back to spin you around slowly.

You giggled and spun around slowly, looking up at him, seeing he was smiling just as much as you were.

When he pulled you back into him, you lost your balance, the alcohol you’d had earlier making you feel a bit light on your feet. You fell into him, lightly yelping as you did so.

You knocked both of you back a few steps, but he recovered with ease. “Woah there…” he teased as his arm wrapped around your waist to catch you as he stumbled back, chuckling.

You giggled a little louder, feeling silly for the loss of balance. “Told you I couldn’t dance…”

He chuckled and rubbed his thumb against the small of your back that his hand was now holding you at, “You never said you couldn’t dance, querida… just that you didn’t know how…” he corrected as he retook your hand, pulling it close to his chest, in between the two of you, starting to sway with you once again.

You pulled back a little to bounce something back at him, putting your hand on his chest to help you balance.

But your mind was distracted as you could feel his heartbeat against your palm, it pounding just as quickly as yours.

He was just as excited and nervous as you were with him.

You heard him say your name softly, but it was muffled, your head swirling.

He said it again, this time using his hand on your back to gently pinch your chin between his thumb and forefinger, pulling your eyes up to meet his, saying your name once more, and leaning in a tad.

Your name sounded different coming off his tongue. It sounded right. It was like everyone had been saying your name incorrectly– you’d been saying it wrong.

With him, it felt warm, full of light– he gave it purpose.

You were about to say something, having even inhaled before, but before the first syllable came out of your mouth, your phone dinged a couple of times, interrupting the moment.

You cleared your throat, "Sorry, excuse me..."

You stepped out of his arms and walked over to it as it lay on the concrete wall of the fountain. You picked it up and looked down at it. It was your mom.

‘Where are you? Lila is about to leave! She said you’re in charge of handing out sparklers to guests?’

‘Hello?’

‘I need you to answer me…’

‘This isn’t a time to sulk and disappear if that’s what you’re doing. You need to come back to the venue.’

You sighed softly and swallowed down everything you’d been feeling, reality setting back in, that last message hitting a nerve.

You felt the wall reinforce itself, and with that, you went back to closing yourself up.

You typed back as response then looked up at Harry as he stood there, waiting for you with a soft smile on his face.

“Sorry uhm, I need to get back…” You picked up your things. You took off his jacket and gently handed it to him, smiling politely before starting to walk back, keeping your head down.

There was that shift again. The warmth he just felt you exude, and again when you were both on the dance floor in his arms– it was gone. Things had changed. You closed back up. What happened? What the hell did Diego say to you? Who the hell just texted you?

He stood there, and something fueled inside him; he wasn’t one to give up so easily.

He put his jacket on and quickly caught up with you. “Wait- I’ll walk with you…” He gently placed his hand on the small of your back.

You kept your eyes forward or down, avoiding eye contact with him. That insecurity that Diego had found earlier was back to its normal scheduled programming of making you feel small, insignificant– worthless.

He cleared his throat softly as you exited the vineyard and started walking back towards the venue, “Hey uhm, whatever Diego said to earn you throwing a drink at him, don’t listen to him— he’s a fool.” he turned his head to look down at you.

You shook your head and tsked, “Yeah… well, he had a point.” you said numbly as you started walking back up the stairs.

He stopped and stayed at the bottom, looking at you as you went up. “What did he say to dim that pretty light of yours?”

You stopped a few steps up, your hand on the rail, and kept your eyes fixated on the ground, tears starting to well in your eyes as you replayed his words in your mind. You moved up a few more stairs.

He walked up a couple of stairs as you moved, to be just below you, proclaiming, “Because whatever he said, cariño, I can prove that he’s wrong…” he said softly, sounding like he was pleading for a chance.

You stopped moving, and for a split second, those doors opened back up. You felt like you were easing into him, trusting in his words.

However, just as fast as they opened, they shut– your mom being the catalyst.

“Where the hell have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” she shouted from the top of the stairs, looking down at you with her hand on her hip. She then saw Harry below you and she instantly changed her tone, “Oh Harry, sweetheart, how’s your evening been?”

You sighed and shook your head, scoffing at her personality change before running up the stairs, leaving Harry where he was.

He was so close, so close to breaking through those walls.

He looked up at your mom, “Evenin’, Mrs. Winters.” he politely smiled then his eyes followed you as you ran up the stairs.

He was now determined more than before. He wouldn’t allow you to think of yourself in any way that someone like Diego might have described you or whoever texted you.

Hell no.

He clenched his jaw and scaled the stairs up to her. “Did you need your daughter’s help with something? Perhaps I can assist?” he smiled.

About 20 minutes later, you had everyone outside and sparklers lit, the happy couple running down the stairs down to a limo that was ready to take them to the airport for their honeymoon.

After you and the families said goodbye as they left, everyone started to clear out and pack up.

Your mom grabbed your arm and pulled you aside at the bottom of the stairs. "Okay, so to get the deposit back, we need to have this place cleaned in the next two hours.” She had a panicked look in her eye.

You chuckled, your feet and back aching from the long day you’d had, unlike her, who had spent most of the night drinking champagne. “You’re kidding, right?” You looked at her in disbelief. Leave it to her to do something like this after a day like this.

She raised her eyebrow and laughed, pulling you by the hand up the stairs, “Oh, Bug, you’re so funny— of course, I’m not kidding!”

Harry was talking to another groomsman towards the top when he saw you being dragged by your mom. He excused himself and ran inside after you both. “Mrs. Winters!” he called.

Your mom turned around and smiled brightly, letting your hand go, “Oh, thank you so much for all your help today, dear!” She touched his arm, smiling brightly at him.

He smiled down at you, then looked at your mom. “I, uh, was wondering if you needed any help with the cleanup?” He was going to do anything he could to spend more time with you tonight.

“Oh, there’s no need for that! My Richard said you had an early morning— you should go home and get some sleep! I’m sure today has been so exhausting for you.” she tsked sympathetically and now patting his arm.

He smiled warmly, “That’s very kind of you but with all due respect, ma’am, it wouldn’t be right of me as the best man to leave you to do all this work.” he put his hand over hers, “Put me to work— I must insist.” he winked at her.

Your mom looked at you and raised her eyebrow towards Harry as she leaned over to whisper to you. “See now, why can’t you find a man like him, Bug?” she jabbed at you, in her way, trying to be funny.

Normally, you’d feed into her humor and punch something back. However, that hit a nerve this time.

You looked at her sadly and bit your lip, then muttered under your breath as you turned away, “I’m going to go… do something else…” Then you walked away towards the refreshment table, going to pack up the food first.

Your mom noticed the sudden drop in your mood and felt like shit. “Shoot, I…” she sighed and wanted to go after you but knew you would need space from her after something like that.

Harry noticed how the comment immediately made you shrink, and the look you had across your face broke his heart.

He looked down at your mom and cleared his throat softly. “I’m going to go help her…” he nodded and then walked towards where you were packing everything up into to-go containers.

He came up and stood next to you, starting to help pack up the food in silence. After a few minutes he stopped and turned his head, “I don’t know what Diego said, or what’s goin’ on..." he softly sighed.

"You don’t have to say anything, but just know I’m here. I’m here if you need someone to talk to,” he said, reaching over and gently touching your hand, which was lying flat on the table as you listened to him.

You clenched your jaw, and tears began to well up at his touch. You kept your eyes on the box in front of you, doing everything you could to not melt into a puddle of tears in front of him.

For the last few months, there was a pain deep in your chest that had been festering– not allowing anyone in, anyone close enough to you.

However, no matter how hard that fester tried to push him away or avoid him tonight, he kept coming back.

He kept showing up.

You couldn’t help but feel the pain start to morph into something different under his touch. It wasn’t pain, it wasn’t depression, it wasn’t sadness.

Instead, it was something light. It was something hopeful.

It was your heart starting to beat again- beginning to mend.

Next Chapter

no pressure taglist: @thebeautytoyourbeat, @sarahhxx03, @blahkateisdone, @sunnytuliptime, @pedroscurls, @docharleythegeekqueen @pedritosgirl2000 @fancyyoouu @greendudenumber7, @queenofdisaster12 @axshadows @mystickittytaco @yxtkiwiyxt @alltheirdamn @punkshort @stylesispunk @iheartoldermem @mermaidgirl30 @mountainsandmayhem @sp00kymulderr @brittmb115 @poor-unfortunate-soul9927 @spacelatinos4life @pedge-page @pedropascalfab

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedrohub #harry castillo #harry castillo smut #harry castillo x you #harry castillo fanfiction #harry castillo fanfic #the materialists #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedropascal #pedropascaledit #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #heartlines fic #harry castillo x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fic

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yourmomsawh0r3 · 1 year ago

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M A S T E R L I S T :

S E R I E S M A S T E R L I S T

dividers: @cafekitsune

PEDRO PASCAL:

✿ the oscars

✿ the after party

✿ the era’s tour

✿ espresso ✿ thunderstruck

Javier Peña: COMING SOON

Frankie Morales:

i’ve got you

ghost ✿ you’re home

Joel Miller:

✿ I love you

✿ You’re Mine

✿ Parenthood

✿ The Proposal

✿ Family Emergency ✿ haunted corn maze ✿ tiktok ✿ late night snack ✿ pampering day ✿ first date ✿ barbecue ✿ bowling ✿ the grand life

BRIDGERTON:

Colin Bridgerton:

✿ Jealousy Jealousy

✿ Welcome Home

Anthony Bridgerton:

✿ Dual of wits

✿ Lost ✿ desire

Benedict Bridgerton:

✿ A Bridgerton Wedding

✿ Paint

✿ Picnic

✿ Knight and shining armor

✿ Steamy

✿ Family ✿ jealousy ✿ stargazing ✿ beautiful ✿ game night ✿ masquerade ✿ quality time ✿ sting

CILLIAN MURPHY: COMING SOON

Tommy Shelby:

✿ heated

✿ suprise

RILEY GREEN:

✿ you look like you love me

Zach Top: country christmas

TYLER OWENS ✿ long time no see ✿ music video ✿ panic attack ✿ santa baby Glenn Powell: ✿ baby fever ✿ fuzzy pink handcuffs ✿ can you keep up? ✿ Juno

Marcello Hernandez:

live from new york.. it’s Marcella’s hot girlfriend

backstage heat

night out internet famous

Live from New York

Ringing in the new year

night out

suegra

more than friends

SNL

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tagged-by-trauma · 29 days ago

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Stay quiet, darlin'

He was your father's best friend, but that didn't stop you from sneaking into your bedroom while your father was downstairs. Pairing: dbf!Joel x f!reader Warnings: explicit sexual content (18+), age gap, softdom!joel/subby!reader, teasing, dirty talk, protected sex (sorry not sorry), p in v sex, pussy slapping (one time), slight aftercare, cuddling Word count: 3.6k

You knew it was wrong for a number of reasons. He was a lot older than you, grumpy and he almost never looked at you when you passed by. But most of all, he was your father’s best friend since they were in elementary school. They were always hanging around each other, sometimes they were like brothers. When something happened, they were there and you always saw them in a different light. Your father, who raised you up to the woman you are today, and his friend, who saw this whole journey.

He saw when you were learning how to ride a bike for the very first time. He was looking after you when your father had to go on a work-trip, helping you with your geography homework and he was always like a second father to you. Until this small connection between you took a whole turn.

You started going to college and started to change. Your appearance became similar to the other girls, your curves developing every year. The girly clothes in your wardrobe were changed to more elegant and minimalist ones, and you were a lot more confident in some situations, and shyer in others.

But every summer when you went home you could see Joel’s gaze shift. His eyes raked over your body like he was seeing you for the first time, but you could feel them burning your skin where they tracked a path. He saw that you weren’t that little girl anymore, and that fact made you feel something deep down in your heart.

But everything changed forever between you on a warm summer night.

It was your father’s idea. Watching a basketball match like in the good old days. And you agreed. Of course you agreed. But he didn’t tell you that he also invited Joel.

“I thought it would be amazing if we could spend some time together. And he said he didn’t have anything to do tonight,” your father’s words still echoed in your ears as you were getting ready. You pulled out your favourite summer dress with small flowers on it, and let your hair down, it’s waves cascading down your shoulders.

You were sitting on the couch when you heard three firm knocks on the door. You looked to your left, gaze falling on the clock hanging from the wall. 6:47 pm.

“Can you get it?” your father yelled from the kitchen while he was preparing the snacks and the beers. You slowly stood up, adjusted the hem of your dress, and walked slowly to the door. When you opened it, Joel was standing there, his hand raised to knock again, when his eyes locked with yours. He had a checked shirt on with old jeans on, a six pack of beers in his left hand. His hair was longer than you’d remembered, and gray hairs could be seen scattered around. His expression was unreadable, but you saw his eyes flicker down to your body for just a mere second.

“Hey,” he said with a low voice and a shiver ran down your body. His voice seemed lower than the last time you’ve seen him.

“Hey, come in,” you steeped to the side so he could come in, and as he took a step inside he brushed against you, the smell of him hitting your nose. It was something like wood, leather and something else that you couldn’t really name but your brain has strongly associated it with him.

“I brought some beer. Didn’t know if there would be enough,” he held up the pack in his hands and you nodded. You looked back up and your gaze met his, eyes so dark that it made a blush creep to your cheeks. As you opened your mouth to answer him, you heard footsteps behind you from the hallway, and you both broke the eye contact, glancing in the direction of your father as he emerged.

“Joel, finally,” your father took his hand and gave it a hard and firm shake. You watched the interaction from the side, catching the faint smile in the corner of Joel’s lips. “You bought extra beer?”

“Didn’t know if we needed more. Though I think ahead,” he held out the six pack to him, and your father took it. You crossed your arms in front of you and when you saw Joel look down for just a moment, you smirked and gave him a subtle wink—one that your father didn’t notice. He quickly averted his gaze, his posture going rigid as he followed your dad inside the living room.

You were still standing there in front of the door, thinking about the gaze he just gave you, and how he just basically checked you out in front of your father. Subtle. Very subtle. Yeah, things definitely changed between you with the years. And you couldn’t help but anticipate what this night will hold for both of you.

—-—

The match was blasting on the TV, the light from it illuminating the otherwise dark room, coffee table full of snacks and beer. You were sitting on the single armchair, legs under you, hand propping your face up, the other wrapped around a cold beer in your lap. Your father was sitting on the couch; eyes fully focused on the screen and the player who just threw a basket. And Joel. Joel was sitting to his right, closer to you, slightly slouched down the soft material of the furniture. His left hand was wrapped around the head of his beer, his right behind his head.

Your eyes averted from the TV to his form and you couldn’t help but basically drool at the sight of him. Here in the light the gray hairs were more prominent in his hair and beard, the shirt now unbuttoned at the top—showing the white t-shirt underneath. He lifted the bottle to his lips and took a big gulp, your eyes travelling down to his neck—the bob of his Adam’s apple.

He was completely engrossed in the match but when he felt something like a burning sensation he looked to his right. He caught the way you looked at him and smirked at you. When you pulled back your gaze to his face, you noticed that he was already staring at you. But now, instead of turning away embarrassed, you held the eye contact, holding your head up high. His smirk turned even smugger. The sudden movements of your father broke the little trance, and you finally turned your head back to the TV.

When the match came to the half-time you stood up and placed your empty bottle of beer on the coffee table. Your father and Joel looked at you with a questioning gaze but you just shrugged.

“I’m feeling a little sleepy so, I think I’ll go and get some sleep,” you lied, stretching towards the ceiling, dress riding up your thigh, exposing even more skin. You saw Joel’s jaw flex, eyes trying to stay on your face.

“Are you alright?” your father asked, completely oblivious to the little connection between you and Joel.

“Yes, just a bit tired,” your father nodded at your response, and reached for his phone, settling further into the couch. You winked at Joel and went to the kitchen to fill a cup with water. Halfway through you heard heavy footsteps behind you but didn’t look back. But then a heavy presence loomed behind you, and you stopped in your tracks. You felt his hot breath against the back of your neck, his arms caging you between his body and the counter.

“If you woulda kept lookin’ at me like that, darlin’, I don’t think I would have lasted through the whole night,” he growled in your ear, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. You placed the water on the counter and slowly turned around to face him. First his broad chest came into the level of your eyes, but when his hand came up and cupped your jaw gently, forcing you to look up, you were met with a dark pair of eyes burning low with desire.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” you whispered innocently, batting your eyelashes at him.

“Oh, darlin’. Don’t play the innocent to me. You know exactly what I’m talking ‘bout,” he leaned closer, his breath mingling with yours. “And doin’ it while your daddy’s sittin’ next to me?” he chuckled, and you grew redder and redder with every word that was leaving his lips. His hand came to your waist, squeezing down softly.

“And what will you do about it?” you smirked up at him, your hands coming to rest on his chest. His eyes flicked down for a second, and you could see the shift in them.

“Oh, trust me, darlin’, you don’t wanna know.”

“And what if I do?” as soon as you finished your sentence his mouth found yours with a slow tenderness that you didn’t expect from him. His body moved even closer to you, lips fighting each other for dominance. He leaned forward, and with a simple move he picked you up and placed you on the counter. Your hands tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, while his found your cheek. You could feel his hardening length pressing against your thigh, and you smiled into the kiss. In this moment you completely forgot about your father in the next room, but when you heard footsteps you quickly moved away and jumped off the counter trying to fix your appearance.

“Oh, I thought you said you were going to sleep,” your father appeared in the doorway, his look moving back and forth between you and Joel.

“Uhm, yes, just needed some water.”

“Right. And you?” your father now dedicated his question to Joel, moving to one of the cupboards.

“Just came for another beer,” his voice was a bit gravelly, but his stance went back to his normal state.

“I might take another one too,” he smiled at both of you, and you picked up your water from the counter and looked at your father.

“Then I just go. Enjoy the rest of the match, guys,” you walked past your dad, sparing a final glance at Joel, who looked after you with hunger in his eyes. Your father was too busy with whatever he was searching in the cupboard, so you took the chance and winked at Joel.

“Later. My room,” you mouthed to him, and smiled as he subtly lowered his hand and adjusted himself in his pants.

—-—

It took him a whole hour.

You were laying in bed when you heard the unmistakable sound of his boots on the hardwood, and you smirked at the ceiling. Next three firm but quiet knocks came down on your door. You got up, walked to it, and opened it. Joel was standing there, hands in his pockets, gaze fixed on the stairs. When he heard the soft creak of the door he looked up, and his breath caught in his throat.

You already took off your sundress and dressed into soft black shorts and a white tank top. You didn’t bother to put on any bra, you knew it would have been unnecessary. Especially with him. When you saw the expression on his face, clear satisfaction creeped into your mind.

“Like something you see?” you asked with a cheeky tone, and he looked at you in disbelief.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him without a noise, and the next thing you know, you were caged between his arms. “You don’t even know how much. That little sundress of yours tonight? Drove me fuckin’ crazy,” he captured your lips with his, and you let out a quiet gasp at the sudden contact. You melted into his arms, and you let him carry you to the bed.

One of your hands found the back of his neck while the other grasped the shirt on his chest. His were roaming all across your body, caressing your hair, cheeks, waist, hands tightening when he reached your hips. You moaned into his mouth, and he used this little moment to slip his tongue inside your mouth. He let out a growl, and unconsciously moved his hips forward, making you throw your head back. His lips left yours and traced gentle kisses along your jaw and the curve of your neck. You were holding on tightly to his shoulder. When his hand reached for the hem of your shirt he pulled back and looked at you, asking for permission. And that’s when it all hit you. Your father was just downstairs, watching the TV.

“Joel. My father—”

“Don’t worry ‘bout him, darlin’,” he continued to pepper your throat with kisses, occasionally nipping at the skin.

“What do you mean?”

“He’s so drunk that he decided to bake cookies,” he looked into your eyes, caressing your hair.

“Cookies? At—” you looked to the clock on your bedside table. “At 9:24 pm?”

“As I said, darlin’, he’s really drunk. I’m pretty sure, he’ll fall asleep in the first five minutes, although…” he searched your eyes again, and when you nodded, he pulled off the tank top. “Although that doesn’t mean you won’t have to stay quiet,” he threw away the top, not bothering to look where it lands. “Fuck, look at you, darlin’,” his gaze dropped to your breasts and lingered there.

His mouth connected with your throat again, moving lover and lover with every kiss. He traced a path between your breasts, and when he took one nipple in his mouth you threw your head back against your pillow, stifling a moan. His tongue was dancing around the hardened peak, his hand coming up and playing with your other one. You arched your back when he started sucking. When he felt satisfied, he moved to your other nipple, giving it the same treatment.

He moved lower on your body, but you pulled him back up by his shoulder. He looked at you confused, parted his lips to say something but you drowned the words into him by reaching for his belt buckle.

“We don’t have time, Joel,” as soon as the words left your lips he reached for your shorts and pulled them down with a rough tug, leaving you only in your panties laying under him. Your hands moved with a quiet determination, shaking softly by the weight of the moment. He took them and squeezed down softly.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, darlin’,” he reached down to unbuckle his belt himself, and you leaned up on your elbows to watch him. You could see the prominent bulge through the fabric of his jeans. He tucked his hand in his back pocket and took out a condom. You looked at him in disbelief and surprise.

“You kept a condom in your back pocket while my father was sitting next to you?”

“Gotta be prepared, darlin’,” he tugged down his briefs, and his cock sprang free. You looked at it with a quiet awe and a bit intimidated by the size of him. As he opened the small packet, and rolled the condom on, he noticed your expression.

“Don’t worry. We’ll gotta make it fit,” you nodded at him. He let out a quiet chuckle, and tugged your panties to the side, his fingers tracing the completely soaked fabric. “Fuck, darlin’, you’re so wet already,” he ran his fingers up and down, his fingers drawing slow circles over your clit. You couldn’t hold back anymore and let out a moan.

“Joel—” he stopped in his tracks, his hand coming down on your thigh with a soft strike. You gasped, and looked at him, whimpering.

“What did I say ‘bout keepin’ quiet, baby?” he soothed over the slightly reddened skin while you reached for his cock. He took your hand and brought it up over your head, pinning it to the mattress. His other reached for his length, tip leaking with precum and almost purple under the low light. He lined himself up with your entrance and looked at you for a final confirmation. When you nodded, he smiled at you and gave you a quick kiss. “Stay quiet, darlin’.”

He slowly eased himself inside you. The stretch at first was making you wince, and after he released you hand you dig your nails into his clothed back. He leaned next to your ear, and he groaned by the sudden warmness and tightness. When he fully bottomed out, the stretch turned into pleasure, and he looked at your face.

“You alright, darlin’?”

“Yes, just… Please move, Joel,” to emphasize your words, you slowly circled your hips. He pulled out and with one quick move he thrusted into you. He set the pace and moved in and out of you like his life depended on it. You were trying to stay quiet, but it was almost impossible. And that’s how it happened that you let out a strangled cry of his name. And Joel? Joel suddenly stopped, pulled out of you. You whined at the sudden loss of contact, but when the tip of his cock came down on your clit, you arched your back off the bed.

“What did I say, darlin’? Do you want your daddy to hear us?” you shook your head, and he contently nodded. Then he lined himself up again and buried in you in one thrust. Now he didn’t stop his pace, didn’t pull away, but his hand came over your mouth to stifle your moans and cries.

“Fuck, darlin’. You’re so fuckin’ tight. Your lil’ pussy’s squeezin’ me so deliciously,” you were a writhing mess under him, and he was relentless. You felt the muscles in his shoulder and back tense with every move, his voice in your ear intensified by the moment. When he saw you were close to the edge, he moved his hand down between your bodies and found your clit. His thumb circled the little bundle of nerves, his pace quickening if that was possible.

“Come for me, darlin’. Let me feel you clench around my cock,” as soon as his words reached your brain, you were gone. Your orgasm shattered like an old vase on the ground, and with a last cry you clenched down around him. He talked you through it, whispering and groaning into your ear. Just a few seconds after you his rhythm faltered, thrusts getting messy and sloppy, and with a final move he buried himself to the hilt and came with a quiet growl. His body was tensed up, and he collapsed on you, careful not to put too much pressure. Your hand came up to comb through his salt and pepper hair, and you let out a content little sigh.

“Jesus, girl,” he murmured into your bare chest. “I think I just threw my back out,” you laughed at his comment, and he squeezed your waist.

“Old man,” you murmured under your breath.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you breathed too quickly, and he looked at you suspiciously but left it at that.

When you both felt like you could move again, he climbed off of you, his now limp cock sliding out of you, and a whimper leaving your lips at the emptiness you felt in that moment. You leaned up on your elbow, watching as he pulled off the condom and tied it with a firm knot. He threw it into the bin next to your bed and pulled back up his briefs and jeans.

“I should go down and check on your father. Hopefully he didn’t burn down the kitchen,” you chuckled and looked at his disheveled form.

“Wait,” he looked at you confused when you reached for the little mirror in your bedside drawer. You held it out for him.

“For your hair,” he nodded and took it, looking at himself and the soft curls that were now completely messy. “I have to say I wasn’t very careful with my hands.”

“It’s alright, darlin’,” he combed through his hair, flattening down the waves at the back of his neck and the top of his head. You were looking at him still sprawled out on your bed, still half-naked. He handed back the mirror and gave you a small smile. With a final kiss, he went out your door, and minutes later you could hear him helping your father into his own bedroom. You laid back, and looked at the ceiling, replaying everything that just happened.

Yeah, it was definitely not a one-time thing.

—-—

Later that night, close to midnight you heard your phone hum with a new text, and you immediately picked it up. When you saw it was Joel your stomach did a little flip, and you blushed at his message.

Joel: Thank you for tonight, darling! You: Are you really thanking me? Joel: Why? Is that a bad thing? You: No, just unusual.

For a few moments the three little points were popping up on your screen then disappearing. You thought that maybe he won’t text back, but the phone lit up in your hand again.

Joel: Are you free on Friday? Maybe like 7:00 pm? You: It depends. What are you planning to do? Joel: It’s a secret. But you can trust me, darling! You: Then I’m free. Oh, and my father won’t be home, he is going on a work trip again. Joel: Amazing! Then I’ll pick you up! Good night, darling! You: Good night, Joel!

Safe to say, you fell asleep that night quiet easily. The happenings of the day and the exhaustion was catching up to you, but surely the last thing you saw before the darkness consumed you was Joel’s face and those beautiful dark brown orbs.

#joel miller #joelmiller #dbf!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedropascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fandom

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pascalxp · 4 months ago

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Pedro Pascal at TLOU 2 Premiere

#pedropascal #pedro pascal #joel miller #joelmiller #thelastofus #joelmillerfanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff

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theetherealbloom · 5 months ago

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IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU - CH.6

Chapter Six: I Keep These Longings Locked In Lowercase Inside A Vault

Summary: You find yourself sharing a hotel suite with Pedro Pascal while working on the set of Fantastic Four: First Steps. Despite your different roles—he’s the star, and you’re behind the scenes. Nothing could ever happen between you two… right?

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Age-Gap Romance (Not Specified), Eventual SMUT, Crush, FLUFF, Slight Angst, Trope(s), Swearing, Anxiety, Lots of Cliches, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Paparazzi, Social Media, Swoonworthy, One-Room Trope, They were roommates, Strangers-to-Lovers, Actors, Hallmark Tropes, the reader can sing and play guitar, the reader is shorter than Pedro, the reader has hair, Alternate Universe, Awkward!Reader, Shy!Reader, Fan Girl!Reader, Cringe, Embarrassment, Starstruck, On-Set Accident, Blood, Stitches, Medic

Word Count: 9.6k

A/N: GOOD MORNING CHICKENS 🙂‍↕️ Lowkey, I ran into a wall writing this chapter LOL. Anyways, almost murdered the reader cause why not HEHE. If we’re doing hallmark tropes— I’M GOING ALL THE WAY, BABY.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: Guilty As Sin? By Taylor Swift

Previous Chapter → Next Chapter | Series Masterlist |Main Masterlist|

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — EARLY MORNING

Sunlight filters softly through the windows, casting a warm, golden glow over the room. The air feels calm, almost too calm, as if it knows that something is about to shift.

“You know we’ll still see each other at work, right?” you say with a soft laugh, zipping up your suitcase and trying to keep things light.

Despite your tone, there’s a strange ache in your chest—a heaviness that lingers just beneath the surface. You keep your focus on the zipper, avoiding his gaze for a moment too long.

Pedro stands in the doorway, arms crossed, his shoulder resting casually against the frame as he watches you with that familiar ease. But there’s something different in his expression this morning, something quieter. “Doesn’t mean I’ll miss you any less,” he replies, his voice warm but tinged with a softness that makes your heart stumble.

Then his lips curl into a teasing pout. “Especially the cuddles.”

Your breath catches, heat rushing to your cheeks as flashes of last night fill your mind—the two of you curled up together on the couch, your head on his chest, his arm draped around you. You’d fallen asleep like that, wrapped in warmth and comfort, his steady heartbeat beneath your ear. Neither of you had moved until morning.

You clear your throat, trying to play it off. “I’m sure you’ll survive without a cuddle buddy for one night.”

“Survive, yes.” Pedro sighs dramatically. “But thrive? Highly questionable.”

You can’t help but laugh, shaking your head at his antics. The knot in your chest loosens just a little. Stepping closer, you reach out and gently take his hand. Your fingers brush against his palm, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe.

“Walk me to my new room?” you ask, your voice quieter now, almost shy.

Pedro’s eyes soften as he looks down at your joined hands, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. “Of course,” he says, his voice steady, reassuring. “Lead the way.”

The hallway is peaceful in the early morning light, the soft hum of the hotel’s quiet routine filling the air. Pedro stays close, his shoulder brushing yours with every step. It feels effortless, this closeness, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

When you reach your new room, you pause, staring at the door as your grip tightens around the keycard. Suddenly, you’re not so sure you’re ready to walk in and let the bubble of the past week burst.

Pedro notices, his head tilting slightly as he studies you. “You okay?”

You nod, giving him a small smile. “Yeah. Just… feels a little weird, that’s all.”

He steps closer, his hand resting gently on your arm. “Weird how?”

You hesitate, chewing on your bottom lip. “Like… we’ve been in this little bubble all week,” you admit, your voice barely a whisper. “And now it’s about to pop.”

Pedro’s brow furrows for a second before his expression shifts into something reassuring. His thumb traces a soothing line against your sleeve. “It doesn’t have to pop,” he says softly. “It can stretch—change shape a little. But it doesn’t have to go away.”

You blink up at him, caught off guard by how easily his words settle the swirling uncertainty inside you.

“You’re right,” you say, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You’re annoyingly good at this.”

Pedro grins, stepping back just enough to give you space while still keeping his hand on your arm. “It’s one of my many talents,” he teases.

You swipe the keycard and push the door open, the soft click of the lock breaking the moment. “Well, thanks for the walk,” you say softly, standing just inside the doorway.

He lingers for a moment, his eyes lingering on yours like he’s not quite ready to leave. “Anytime.”

There’s a beat of silence, charged but gentle, before he takes a step back.

“Pedro?” you call after him, your voice instinctive and soft.

He turns back, one brow raised. “Yeah?”

You hesitate for just a second, then smile. “See you tomorrow?”

His face lights up in that easy, familiar way that feels like home. “You can count on it.”

You watch him disappear down the hall, the warmth of his presence lingering in the air long after he’s gone. The ache in your chest eases, replaced by something lighter—something that feels suspiciously like hope.

With a soft sigh, you close the door behind you and lean against it for a moment, letting the quiet settle around you. It feels strange not having Pedro right there, filling the space with his warmth and playful banter. The silence feels heavier now, but you shake it off and turn toward your suitcase.

Unpacking is slow and deliberate, each item placed carefully, like it might somehow ground you in this new room. Eventually, you unzip the side pocket and spot the little polaroid photobooth strip you’d tucked away.

You pull it out, your fingers brushing gently over the glossy surface. The photo was taken just yesterday, but it feels like a lifetime ago—a perfect little slice of happiness frozen in time. Pedro’s grinning wide in the picture, his arm slung around your shoulders as if it was the most natural thing in the world. You’re laughing, caught mid-giggle, eyes bright and cheeks flushed from too much teasing.

Your lips curve into a small smile at the memory. That day… it’s up there in your top three moments in life, one of those days you pray you’ll never forget—if you’re lucky.

It had started with a spontaneous coffee run that turned into hours of wandering through the streets, popping into bookshops and vintage stores, taking goofy photos at every opportunity. Pedro had insisted on the photobooth, dragging you inside with that mischievous glint in his eyes.

You’d rolled your eyes but followed him in, unable to resist the way his excitement was so contagious. The tiny booth had been cramped, your shoulders pressed together as you both tried to fit into the frame. Pedro had leaned closer, his head nearly resting against yours, and flashed a ridiculous grin just as the camera clicked.

The memory warms you now, a soft glow that spreads through your chest. You can still hear his voice, still feel the weight of his arm around you, still see the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled.

You carefully set the photo on the nightstand, propping it up against the lamp. It feels like a little piece of him is here with you, anchoring you in a way that nothing else can.

The rest of your unpacking is a blur, your thoughts drifting back to him over and over. It’s ridiculous, really, how much space he takes up in your mind.

Stop it, you tell yourself. You’ll see him tomorrow. It’s no big deal.

But deep down, you know it’s a little more complicated than that. You’ve been in this bubble with him for days—wrapped up in late-night conversations, shared coffee runs, and the kind of closeness that feels far too easy. Now that you’re on the edge of something new, something that feels like it could change everything, you don’t quite know how to navigate it.

Your phone buzzes, snapping you out of your thoughts.

Pedro: Miss me yet?

You bite your lip, trying to suppress the grin that’s already forming. He’s impossible.

You: I was just starting to enjoy the peace and quiet.

There’s a pause, and then:

Pedro: Liar. You miss me.

You roll your eyes, warmth blooming in your chest.

You: Maybe a little.

Pedro: Thought so. Meet me for coffee in the morning?

Your heart flutters at the thought, the ache in your chest completely forgotten.

You: It’s a date.

You set your phone down, the smile lingering on your lips.

SOHO HOUSE – AFTERNOON

The café is buzzing with the low hum of conversation, the scent of freshly brewed coffee mixing with something warm and buttery from the kitchen. You slide into a booth where Daisy and Omar are already waiting, their plates half-finished, because of course, you’re the late one.

“There she is,” Daisy grins, sipping her iced latte. “Surprised you could make time for little old us.”

Omar smirks, leaning back against the booth. “Figured you’d be too busy playing house with Pedro.”

You nearly choke on your water. “Oh my god, shut up.”

Daisy gasps dramatically. “So defensive. We’re just saying—you two have been… spending a lot of time together.”

“Yeah,” Omar adds, raising an eyebrow. “Like, a lot.”

You roll your eyes, setting your napkin in your lap. “We were literally just sharing a suite until my room was ready. That’s it.”

Daisy exchanges a knowing glance with Omar before turning back to you. “Sure. And is ‘just sharing a suite’ why you’re glowing like you’ve been in a rom-com montage?”

You groan, hiding your face in your hands. “I hate you both.”

Omar laughs. “That’s fine, but tell me I’m wrong.”

You hesitate a second too long, and that’s all Daisy needs to pounce.

“She’s not denying it.”

You huff, taking a pointed bite of your food. “Can we talk about literally anything else?”

Daisy leans in, dropping her voice. “Fine. Let’s talk about how Cecilia is a raging bitch.”

Omar sighs. “Finally.”

Your stomach twists. You’ve been dealing with it all week—Cecilia’s passive-aggressive comments, her cutting looks, the way she talks over you during meetings like you don’t even exist. You thought maybe you were imagining it at first, but then Daisy started noticing. Then Omar. And now it’s become impossible to ignore.

“She’s been awful to you,” Omar says, frowning. “Like, openly awful.”

“Yeah, I don’t get it,” Daisy adds. “It’s like she’s got some weird grudge against you. She’s only nice when Pedro’s around.”

You exhale slowly, pushing your food around with your fork. “I don’t know what her problem is.”

“She’s threatened by you,” Daisy says matter-of-factly. “You’re good at your job, and Pedro actually, you know, likes you.”

You shoot her a look. “Daisy.”

“What? I’m just saying. She’s been trying to sink her claws into him forever, and now she’s watching him give you all his attention. You think that’s a coincidence?”

Omar nods. “She’s not even subtle about it.”

You groan, rubbing your temple. “It’s just exhausting. I don’t want drama, I just want to do my job.”

Daisy softens. “I know, babe. But you should bring it up to the first AD. This isn’t just personal—it’s affecting your work.”

Omar nods. “Exactly. You shouldn’t have to deal with this shit.”

You chew on your lip, debating. The idea of escalating it makes your stomach knot, but at the same time… they’re right. You shouldn’t have to just deal with it.

“I’ll think about it,” you say finally.

Daisy raises an eyebrow. “You better.”

Omar smirks. “Now, back to Pedro—”

You groan.

Daisy grins, nudging you. “What? Just curious—how’s the cuddling?”

You hide your face in your hands again.

They’re never going to let this go.

OXFORD STREET – AFTERNOON

The city hums around you, the air thick with the scent of freshly brewed coffee from a nearby café, the distant chatter of tourists mixing with the occasional honk of a taxi. The sky is an endless stretch of soft blue, and the warmth of the sun against your skin makes the day feel lighter, easier.

Daisy swings her shopping bag dramatically as she walks beside you. “Alright, so we’ve got the essentials—skincare, snacks, some clothes. Anything else?”

“I could use some new art supplies,” you muse, adjusting your tote bag on your shoulder. “I ran out of markers.”

Omar gasps. “Tragic. We must fix this.”

Daisy nods solemnly. “Immediately.”

You laugh as they steer you toward the next store, their enthusiasm contagious. The three of you weave through shelves of neatly stacked notebooks, sketchpads, and rows upon rows of colorful markers. You let your fingers trail over the different shades, your mind already picturing what you could create.

“Should I be concerned that you look this excited over pens?” Omar teases, peering over your shoulder.

You roll your eyes, tossing a pack of markers into your shopping basket. “Not everyone can be an influencer like some people. Some of us need hobbies.”

Daisy cackles. “Wow. Drag him.”

Omar clutches his chest. “I am wounded.”

You smirk, grabbing a sketchbook before leading them back into the bustle of the street.

A few stores later, as you browse through a boutique filled with delicate jewelry, something catches your eye—a simple but elegant bracelet, a thin gold chain with a tiny, shimmering star charm. You pause, tilting your head as you trace a fingertip over it.

It’s beautiful. Understated but meaningful.

You hesitate, then shake your head, gently setting it back down. You’ve already bought enough today.

Daisy, pretending to check her phone, subtly snaps a picture of the bracelet the moment you turn away. She shares a quick glance with Omar, who smirks knowingly, before tucking her phone back into her pocket like nothing happened.

“Alright,” Omar announces. “Time for the grand finale.”

You raise a brow. “Which is?”

He gestures dramatically toward a shop just a few doors down—a musical instrument store. Through the large glass window, you can see rows of guitars hanging on the walls, keyboards set up near the back, and a few people testing out instruments.

You take a step back. “Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes,” Daisy says, grabbing your arm.

“I just wanted art supplies,” you protest, even as they start dragging you toward the entrance.

“And now you get music,” Omar grins. “A full creative experience.”

The bell above the door chimes as you step inside. The scent of polished wood and old sheet music fills the air, and soft acoustic strumming floats from the back where someone is testing a guitar.

Daisy and Omar immediately start messing around—Omar taps on a few piano keys while Daisy picks up a tambourine and shakes it dramatically.

You, however, find yourself drawn to the guitars.

Your fingers brush against the smooth neck of one, its warm, honey-colored wood gleaming under the soft lighting. Without thinking, you pick it up, settling it onto your lap as you sit on a nearby stool.

The weight of it is familiar, grounding.

You give the strings a tentative strum. The sound vibrates through your fingertips, sending a shiver up your spine.

Omar and Daisy go quiet, watching as you idly pluck a few chords, your fingers moving almost instinctively.

And then, without meaning to, you start playing something real.

The opening chords of Risk by Gracie Abrams fill the air, delicate and wistful.

Your voice follows, soft at first, barely above a hum.

“And I wake up

In the middle of the night

With the light on

And I feel like I could die

'Cause you're not here

And it don't feel right

'Cause you're not here”

The melody flows effortlessly from your lips, your fingers moving with muscle memory, like the song has always been resting just beneath your skin.

Daisy and Omar exchange a look, their teasing smiles replaced with something quieter, something fonder.

You don’t even notice the way the store quiets, how a few people glance in your direction.

“God, I'm actually invested

Haven't even met him

Watch this be the wrong thing, classic

God, I'm jumpin' in the deep end

It's more fun to swim in

Heard the risk is drownin', but I'm gonna take it”

Your voice is steady but gentle, carrying the weight of the lyrics, the quiet ache of them.

For a moment, it’s just you and the music.

When you finish the last chord, letting it ring softly into the still air, you finally glance up.

Omar and Daisy are staring.

“…What?” you ask, suddenly shy.

Daisy blinks. “So you’re just gonna casually have the voice of an angel and not tell us?”

You huff a laugh, setting the guitar down. “I just… like playing sometimes.”

Omar shakes his head in disbelief. “Unacceptable. We need to form a band immediately.”

You roll your eyes, standing up. “You’re being ridiculous.”

Daisy loops an arm around your shoulders, squeezing you. “No, we just love you and think you’re unfairly talented.”

Your cheeks warm, but you let yourself smile.

Maybe today really was a good day.

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — EVENING

The ride back is filled with laughter, the kind that lingers even after the jokes have faded, warmth curling around the edges of your chest. The three of you are crammed into the backseat of a cab, shopping bags piled between you, the city blurring past in a wash of golden streetlights and neon signs.

“I still cannot believe you didn’t tell us you could sing like that,” Daisy says for what has to be the fifth time.

Omar sighs dramatically. “Honestly, I feel betrayed. I thought we were close.”

You groan, leaning your head back against the seat. “It wasn’t a secret—I just never thought to mention it.”

Omar clutches his chest. “Oh, so we’re just chopped liver then?”

You give him a deadpan look. “Yes. Exactly.”

Daisy cackles, and Omar glares at both of you before shaking his head with an exaggerated sigh. “This is the worst day of my life.”

The driver chuckles quietly, clearly entertained by the three of you.

The cab slows in front of the Chiltern Firehouse, the warm glow of the entrance lights spilling onto the pavement. You reach for your bags, shifting them into your arms as Daisy nudges you lightly.

“Alright, superstar. We’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nod. “Breakfast?”

“Obviously,” Omar says. “We can’t function without an unhealthy amount of caffeine and gossip.”

Daisy smirks. “And don’t think we forgot about her.”

You groan, knowing exactly who she means. “Cecilia?”

Omar scoffs. “Yeah, Cecilia.” His expression darkens slightly, annoyance flickering across his face. “You have to say something, babe. She’s been unbearable this entire week.”

Daisy nods in agreement. “Seriously. If you don’t, we will.”

You sigh, adjusting your grip on your shopping bags. It’s not that you haven’t noticed Cecilia’s behavior—how she seems to have made it her personal mission to be as dismissive, condescending, and outright rude as possible. You just…haven’t figured out how to deal with it yet.

“I’ll think about it,” you say, because that’s all you can promise right now.

Daisy eyes you like she wants to push the subject, but instead, she reaches out and squeezes your arm. “Alright. Just don’t let her get to you, okay?”

You nod, giving her a small smile. “I won’t.”

Omar tilts his head. “Liar.”

You snort. “Goodnight, Omar.”

“Goodnight, secret singer,” he teases.

Daisy gives you a quick hug before stepping back into the cab, and with one last wave, you turn and head into the hotel.

The warmth of the lobby greets you as you step inside, the scent of polished wood and fresh flowers filling the air. The quiet hum of conversation drifts from the bar, a few guests lounging in the plush chairs near the fireplace.

You shift your bags onto one arm, your fingers brushing over the handles of the shopping bags as you make your way toward the elevators. The day’s events settle over you like a soft blanket—the shopping, the music, the laughter.

You feel good.

Better than you have in days.

The elevator dings softly as the doors open, and as you step inside, you can’t help but let a small, satisfied smile slip onto your lips.

Maybe tomorrow will be even better.

You make your way to your room, tap your keycard on the lock and enter. The door clicks shut behind you, muffling the distant hum of the hallway. You exhale slowly, rolling your shoulders as you set your shopping bags down near the dresser. The room is quiet, save for the faint city sounds filtering in through the window—London still alive and buzzing outside, even as exhaustion begins to settle into your bones.

You flick on the bedside lamp, the soft golden glow washing over the space. Kicking off your shoes, you make your way to the vanity, catching your reflection in the mirror. There’s a tired sort of happiness in your face, a contentment that lingers in your eyes despite the long day.

You start unpacking your shopping bags, sorting through the few essentials you picked up. The art supplies make you smile—new markers, sketchbooks, things you didn’t necessarily need but wanted anyway. Your fingers brush over a particular bag, and you pause, pulling out the Polaroid photobooth strip you’d nearly forgotten about.

Pedro’s face grins up at you from the tiny squares—one shot of him making a ridiculous expression, another where you’re both mid-laugh, and the last…

The last one makes your stomach flutter.

It wasn’t planned, wasn’t posed—it was just the two of you, caught in a quiet moment, his face turned toward you, his expression soft in a way that makes something in your chest tighten.

You let out a breath, carefully tucking the photo into your nightstand drawer before shaking your head at yourself.

It’s fine. It’s just Pedro.

You brush your fingers over the bracelet you liked—the one you didn’t buy. For some reason, it lingers in your mind longer than it should, but you push the thought aside and continue getting ready for bed.

By the time you’ve showered and slipped into an oversized t-shirt, exhaustion has fully caught up with you. You slide beneath the cool sheets, letting out a sigh as your body finally relaxes.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand.

You reach for it, blinking at the screen.

Pedro: Made it back okay?

A small, involuntary smile tugs at your lips.

You: Yeah, just got into bed.

There’s a brief pause before his reply comes through.

Pedro: Get some sleep, cariño. Big day tomorrow.

You bite your lip, warmth blooming in your chest at the nickname.

You: Goodnight, Pedro.

You don’t wait for his response, setting your phone down and rolling onto your side. The weight of the day settles over you, but it’s lighter now, easier to carry.

And as you drift off, the last thing on your mind isn’t Cecilia, or the long production days ahead.

It’s a bracelet you didn’t buy.

And a Polaroid you won’t forget.

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL — MORNING

Your alarm blares, dragging you out of sleep far earlier than you’d like. With a groan, you fumble for your phone on the nightstand, blindly swiping at the screen until the sound finally stops. The room is still dim, the soft glow of early morning creeping through the curtains, casting long shadows across the walls.

You sit up slowly, rubbing at your bleary eyes before forcing yourself out of bed. The floor is cool against your feet as you shuffle toward the bathroom, yawning through the motions of your morning routine.

The second your toothbrush is in your mouth, you grab your phone, squinting at the screen as you scroll through your notifications.

Pedro: Morning, sleepyhead. Still up for coffee?

You smile around your toothbrush, quickly typing back.

You: Morning! Yes, definitely. Meet you in the lobby?

His reply is almost instant.

Pedro: I’ll be the one looking devastatingly handsome and in desperate need of caffeine.

You roll your eyes but feel warmth creep up your neck as you set your phone down and step into the shower. The water is warm, waking you up as you let your playlist play softly in the background. You don’t linger too long—just enough to wash away the remnants of sleep before stepping out and wrapping yourself in a towel.

As you get dressed, you glance at the Polaroid on your nightstand. The memory makes your stomach flutter, but you shake your head, pushing the thought away.

It’s just Pedro.

You grab your bag, double-check that you have everything for the long production day ahead, and head downstairs.

Pedro is already there when you step into the lobby, leaning casually against the wall near the entrance. He’s dressed comfortably, a hoodie pulled over his curls, sunglasses perched on his nose despite the early hour.

His head lifts when he spots you, and a slow grin spreads across his face. “Well, look who’s alive.”

You roll your eyes. “Barely.”

He chuckles, pushing off the wall. “Coffee. Stat.”

You nod in agreement as you both step outside, the crisp morning air waking you up a little more. The streets of London are still sleepy, only a few people out at this hour, and for a moment, it feels like the two of you exist in a quiet little pocket of the city.

Pedro falls into step beside you, close but not overbearing, his hands tucked into his hoodie pockets. “Did you sleep okay?”

You hum, adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder. “Yeah. I was out as soon as my head hit the pillow.”

He smirks. “Tired from all that shopping?”

You side-eye him, but your lips twitch. “Maybe. It was a productive day.”

“You have fun?”

You nod. “Yeah. Daisy and Omar were great. We just wandered, picked up a few things, nothing crazy.”

Pedro hums, glancing over at you. “Get anything good?”

“Some art supplies,” you say. “Markers, sketchbooks. Stuff to keep my hands busy.”

Pedro’s brows lift slightly, though his expression softens into something knowing. “Still adding to your collection, huh?”

You glance at him, a little shy under the weight of his gaze. “You say that like I have a problem.”

He smirks. “I’ve seen your stash.”

You roll your eyes, but your lips twitch. “It’s not that bad.”

He hums, clearly unconvinced, but before you can argue your case, you both step into the small café near the hotel. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries wraps around you instantly, sinking into your bones like comfort.

As you approach the counter, Pedro turns to you with a look of exaggerated concentration. “Alright, let me guess your order.”

You snort, crossing your arms. “You know my order.”

“Do I?” He taps a finger against his chin, drawing out the moment. “Let’s see… you’re obviously an iced salted caramel latte girl.”

You blink at him, half-impressed, half-annoyed. “You’re just showing off.”

Pedro grins, triumphant. “I knew it.” He turns to the barista, ordering for both of you before you can protest.

As you wait for your drinks, you lean against the counter, watching him. He looks relaxed, the usual weight of the long days ahead not quite settling on him yet.

“You always this perceptive?” you ask, tilting your head.

He glances at you, a small smirk playing at his lips. “Only when it matters.”

Your stomach flips unexpectedly, and you quickly look away as the barista calls your names.

Pedro grabs both cups, handing you yours with an easy smile. “Alright, let’s get to set before they start sending search parties.”

You take a sip, the sweet caramel mixing with the bitter espresso, and let the warmth settle in—not just from the coffee, but from the way Pedro falls into step beside you again, his presence easy, familiar.

Maybe today will be even better.

The car ride to set is comfortable, the early morning haze still lingering outside the windows. You and Pedro are seated next to each other, the quiet hum of the car filling the spaces between conversation.

Joseph, Ebon, and Vanessa are preoccupied—chatting, answering messages, scrolling through their phones. But you and Pedro? You exist in the quieter moments, where words don’t have to fill the silence for it to feel full.

You glance at Pedro from the corner of your eye. He’s leaning back against the seat, fingers wrapped loosely around his coffee cup, sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose. There’s something about him like this—relaxed, unreadable, but somehow still entirely present.

“You’re quiet,” he muses, breaking the silence.

You blink, caught. “I’m just… waking up.”

Pedro smirks, tilting his head toward you. “It’s been half an hour.”

You hum, taking a slow sip of your coffee. “Some of us don’t bounce out of bed with full energy at the crack of dawn.”

“I do not ‘bounce,’” he protests, dramatically offended. “I drag myself out of bed like the sleep-deprived, overworked adult that I am.”

You snort. “That’s not what I saw yesterday. You were practically bouncing into set.”

Pedro shakes his head. “I think you hallucinated that.”

“Sure,” you say, amused. “Maybe I should sketch it next time.”

His lips curl at the mention of your sketching, but he doesn’t tease. Instead, his voice dips, quieter now. “Do you still draw at the end of the day? Or are they keeping you too busy?”

You hesitate, fingers tracing the rim of your cup. “I try to. Helps clear my head.”

Pedro watches you for a beat, then nods. “Good. You should keep at it.”

Something about the way he says it, like it actually matters to him, makes warmth spread through your chest. You don’t know how to respond to that, so you just sip your coffee and hope he doesn’t notice the way your fingers tighten around the cup.

The car slows as it pulls up to the studio lot, and everyone starts gathering their things, stretching, shaking off the sluggishness of the morning. Pedro slides his sunglasses to the top of his head, glancing at you as he opens the door.

“Ready for another day of pretending we know what we’re doing?” he asks, grin lopsided.

You laugh, stepping out of the car. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

The driver bids you all a good day, and you offer a small wave, adjusting your bag over your shoulder. The familiar buzz of set life fills the air—crew members moving equipment, voices overlapping, the faint sound of someone running lines in the distance.

Pedro falls into step beside you, and despite the chaos around you, you feel oddly settled. Maybe it’s the coffee. Maybe it’s the warmth of the morning.

Or maybe it’s just him.

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — DAY

The day stretches long and demanding, filled with the constant hum of movement, orders being called out, and the steady rhythm of set life unfolding around you.

You and Daisy barely have a moment to breathe, running between departments, making sure everything is where it needs to be. The production schedule is tight, which means there’s no room for mistakes, no time to slow down.

“Okay, okay, hold up,” Daisy pants, stopping next to you behind the set, hands braced on her knees. “If I have to run across this lot one more time to deliver another prop, I’m throwing myself into the fog machine and disappearing.”

You huff out a tired laugh, adjusting your headset as you check the call sheet in your hand. “I hate to break it to you, but we still need to get the next set of dailies to the editing bay and make sure wardrobe has the updated continuity notes.”

Daisy groans dramatically. “How did we get roped into this again?”

“You volunteered to take extra PA shifts,” you remind her, smirking.

She scowls. “And you agreed to do it with me, so who’s the real fool here?”

You nudge her with your elbow before checking your watch. There’s a brief window before the next setup, and you both know better than to waste it. Without another word, you split up—Daisy heads toward the props department, while you weave through the maze of trailers and equipment toward wardrobe.

The moment you step inside the wardrobe tent, you’re met with the sharp scent of fabric steam and the controlled chaos of stylists making last-minute adjustments.

“Hey, got the continuity notes from this morning’s shoot,” you say, handing over the folder to one of the assistants.

They glance up, looking relieved. “Oh, thank God. We were just about to send someone to chase these down.”

You flash a tired smile. “Happy to save you the trouble.”

Before you can leave, someone’s headset crackles with an urgent call from set, and you hear your name being mentioned.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath, already moving.

By the time you get back to set, Daisy is already there, headset tilted as she listens to the first AD barking orders. She shoots you a look when she sees you approach, her expression somewhere between we’re so screwed and why is everyone like this?

“What now?” you whisper.

“They need another PA to help reset the stunt rigging for the next take,” she mutters back. “Guess who gets to be that PA?”

“Us?”

“Ding, ding, ding.”

You sigh, but there’s no use complaining. Instead, you follow Daisy toward the main soundstage, where the crew is resetting for another action sequence. The rigging team waves you over, already handing you harnesses to help secure the area.

You’ve barely finished clipping things into place when Pedro appears nearby, already in costume, watching the controlled chaos of set. His gaze catches on you, a flicker of recognition in his eyes before amusement settles in.

“Didn’t realize this was part of your job description,” he teases, arms crossing over his chest.

You roll your eyes, adjusting the straps on your harness. “I do everything around here.”

“Clearly,” he says, grinning. “I should start calling you the real MVP of this production.”

Daisy, overhearing, snorts. “Oh, don’t encourage her. She’s already got enough of a complex.”

Pedro laughs, and you glare at Daisy, but it’s all in good fun. The truth is, despite the exhaustion, despite the constant running around, there’s something oddly satisfying about the work. It’s not glamorous, not in the way people think movies are made, but it’s real. And you love it.

Even if, by the time lunch rolls around, you feel like you’ve run a marathon.

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — AFTERNOON

You slump onto the nearest empty bench, your limbs aching from the nonstop running around since the crack of dawn. With a tired groan, you twist open a bottle of water and down it in several long gulps, the cool relief barely making up for how drained you feel.

“I’m so glad I brought an extra change of clothes because holy shit,” you gasp, wiping at the sweat on your forehead.

Daisy collapses beside you with an equally exhausted sigh, her head lolling back against the table. “If I don’t sit down for the next hour, I might actually pass out standing up.”

Omar drops into the seat on your other side, groaning dramatically as he takes a long swig from his water bottle. “No, because fuck this,” he grumbles, shaking his head. “Why does it feel like production’s been testing our stamina like we’re training for the fucking Olympics?”

You huff a tired laugh. “Because we are.”

Nearby, a group of other PAs are in similar states of exhaustion, scarfing down sandwiches like they’ve been starved for days. The entire crew has been running on fumes all morning, juggling stunts, continuity notes, and last-minute script changes.

You dig into the lunch Daisy had brought back for you—a sandwich and a bag of chips, simple but satisfying. The three of you eat in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds being the occasional sighs of relief from getting off your feet for even a few minutes.

Eventually, Daisy leans forward, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “So… have you thought about saying something to the first AD about Cecilia?”

You nearly choke on your bite of sandwich. "Oh my God, not now.”

“Yes, now,” Daisy insists. “She’s been a bitch all week, and it’s only getting worse. I swear, if she snaps at you one more time, I’ll throw my walkie at her.”

Omar nods, chewing thoughtfully. “Yeah, it’s actually getting kinda unbearable.”

You sigh, pushing your food around with your fork. You know they’re right. Cecilia—one of the senior production assistants—has been making your life hell lately. Every little thing you do is apparently wrong, and her constant nitpicking has started to feel personal.

“I just…” you hesitate, rubbing at your temples. “I don’t want to make it a bigger deal than it already is. Maybe she’s just stressed?”

Daisy gives you an unimpressed look. “Stressed my ass. We’re all stressed, babe, and we’re not out here making everyone miserable just because we can.”

Omar points his fork at you. “Exactly. And look, I get not wanting to stir the pot, but if she keeps treating you like shit, it’s gonna start affecting your work. You need to say something.”

You bite your lip, mulling it over. You’re not the type to cause a scene, especially when it comes to work—you’ve always just kept your head down and powered through. But this… this has been eating at you for days.

“I’ll think about it,” you murmur, still unsure.

Daisy narrows her eyes. “You better do more than think.”

Before you can respond, the sound of approaching footsteps makes you glance up—only to find Pedro making his way toward your table, two cups of iced coffee in hand.

“Oh, look who’s finally gracing us with his presence,” Omar teases, smirking.

Pedro grins, unfazed, before setting one of the iced coffees in front of you. “Thought you could use this.”

You blink, surprised. “You—” You glance down at the drink, recognizing it immediately. Iced salted caramel latte. Your go-to. “How did you—”

Pedro shrugs, casual as ever. “You think I don’t pay attention?”

Your stomach flips, heat creeping up your neck. Daisy and Omar exchange a look before Daisy not-so-subtly nudges you under the table.

“I—uh, thanks,” you say awkwardly, taking the cup and focusing very hard on the condensation forming on the plastic.

Pedro watches you with a knowing smile before he turns to the rest of the group. “So, what’s the gossip? What’s got everyone whispering like high schoolers?”

Daisy doesn’t hesitate. “Oh, just Cecilia being Cecilia.”

Pedro’s smile fades slightly, his gaze flicking to you. “She still giving you a hard time?”

You shift uncomfortably, avoiding his eyes. “It’s nothing, really. Just—”

“It’s not nothing,” Daisy interjects. “She’s been riding her ass all week, and it’s getting ridiculous.”

Pedro frowns, leaning against the table. “You talked to the AD about it?”

You sigh. “No, because it’s not that serious—”

“It is,” Omar cuts in. “You’re working twice as hard as half the people on this set, and she’s still treating you like shit.”

Pedro’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, he looks like he wants to say something—something firm, something protective—but instead, he exhales, rolling his shoulders back.

“Well,” he says finally, voice measured, “if you don’t want to bring it up, at least let me know if she crosses the line again.”

You glance up at him, the warmth in his gaze soft but serious. There’s something reassuring about it, like he’s quietly telling you that he’s in your corner, no matter what.

Your chest tightens, and for a second, you don’t know what to say.

Daisy, of course, fills the silence for you. “Damn, maybe you should just let Pedro handle it,” she jokes, wiggling her brows. “Bet she’d shut up real quick if he just—”

“Daisy,” you hiss, mortified.

Pedro chuckles, but there’s a hint of mischief in his eyes. “I mean… I could have a word with her.”

“Oh my God, no.” You shake your head rapidly. “That would just make it worse.”

“Debatable.”

“I swear to God—”

He laughs, hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright, I’ll stay out of it.” A pause. “For now.”

You groan, but there’s a warmth in your chest that wasn’t there before.

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — AFTERNOON

The day isn’t over yet.

After lunch, you’re right back at it, running around set, checking call sheets, adjusting rigging equipment, and making sure everything is in place for the next round of stunt rehearsals. You, Daisy, and Omar move like a well-oiled machine, setting up wires and double-checking safety protocols.

Matt Shakman, ever the observant director, watches from a distance, arms crossed and a satisfied nod of approval on his face. “You three are killing it today,” he says, passing by as you finish tightening a harness.

“Thanks, Matt,” Daisy beams, nudging you playfully. “We try.”

Jess Hall, the first assistant director, chimes in, “Seriously, you guys have been on top of everything. Keep this up, and I might actually sleep well tonight.”

You let out a small, shy laugh, ducking your head. “Just doing our job.”

“Yeah, but you’re doing it well,” Jess points out, before heading off to oversee the final checks.

As you straighten up, rolling out the tension in your shoulders, you spot Pedro, Vanessa, Ebon, and Joseph arriving on set. Pedro catches your eye first, grinning as he waves. The others follow suit, greeting you and the crew with casual waves and easy smiles.

You lift a hand in return, a small but warm flutter in your chest.

And then there’s Cecilia.

Standing off to the side, arms crossed, face like thunder.

You don’t even have to look directly at her to feel the glare she’s boring into you. The barely contained resentment. It’s been like this all day—every time you do something right, every time you get even a sliver of recognition, she seems to grow more and more pissed.

But you push it out of your mind.

You have a job to do.

And right now, that means making sure this next stunt goes off without a hitch.

The rigging for the next scene is extensive—multiple actors wired up, intricate movements choreographed down to the second. You’re double-checking the setup, securing a final carabiner when someone calls for places.

“Alright, let’s lock it up!” Jess shouts. “Rolling in five!”

You step back, joining Daisy and Omar off to the side, scanning the setup one last time. Everything looks solid. No loose wires. No unsecured equipment.

At least, that’s what you think.

Then—

A blur. A crack. A scream.

It happens too fast.

Something above shifts—maybe a light, maybe part of the set structure—but it’s falling, fast and heavy, right where Pedro is standing.

Your body moves before your brain does.

“Move!”

You shove Pedro with both hands, hard, sending him stumbling out of the way just as the metal rig comes crashing down.

The impact never comes.

Not for him, at least.

Pain explodes across your shoulder, sharp and jarring, but adrenaline surges through you, numbing everything as chaos erupts around you.

“Jesus Christ—”

“Someone get a medic—”

Voices blur together. There’s movement, hands reaching for you, but you’re not even thinking about yourself.

You blink up at Pedro, his face inches from yours, panic written in every crease of his expression.

"Are you good?" you ask, voice tight, breath coming faster now.

Pedro just stares at you, jaw clenched, eyes scanning your face like he’s trying to process what just happened.

Then he swallows, hard. “Am I—?” His voice is strained. “You’re the one who—”

He doesn’t finish, just reaches for you, steadying you as a medic pushes through the small crowd that’s formed around you.

It’s only then that you notice—

The blood.

Your sleeve is torn. There’s a gash on your arm, deep and angry-looking, but you barely feel it.

Pedro does.

His grip on you tightens, like he’s just realizing how close that was. Like he’s just realizing you took the hit for him.

You don’t register the pain at first. The adrenaline drowns it out, buzzing through your veins like white noise, making everything feel strangely detached—like you’re floating just outside your body, watching everything unfold in slow motion.

But Pedro’s grip on you is very real.

“Shit, shit, shit—” His voice is low, strained, hands hovering over you like he doesn’t know where to touch, afraid he’ll make it worse. His eyes flicker between your face and your arm, widening at the sight of the torn fabric, the deep gash beneath it.

“I’m fine,” you mumble, blinking rapidly as the world tilts slightly. “You’re fine. That’s what matters.”

Pedro exhales sharply, jaw tightening. He looks anything but reassured.

The medic finally pushes through the crowd, dropping to his knees beside you. “Let me see,” he says, already reaching for your arm.

“I’m good—” you try to insist, but Pedro gives you a look. A look that immediately shuts you up.

A storm of emotion brews behind his eyes—concern, anger, something else you can’t quite name yet. He’s tense, his entire body coiled like a spring.

You feel a little dizzy. Maybe it’s the blood loss. Maybe it’s the fact that Pedro is looking at you like that, like he cares too much.

“Alright, this is gonna sting,” the medic warns before pressing gauze against the wound.

It does more than sting. A sharp, searing pain shoots through your arm, and you hiss through your teeth, eyes squeezing shut for a second.

Pedro flinches. Actually flinches, like he felt it too.

“Fucking hell,” Daisy breathes from behind him. She’s pale, wide-eyed. “That thing could’ve crushed you.”

Omar nods, face just as grim. “Yeah, what the hell even happened?”

There’s a murmur of agreement from the other crew members gathered around, voices overlapping in hushed confusion. Because this wasn’t supposed to happen.

The rig had been checked. The lights had been secured.

So why did it fall?

You glance toward the area where the rigging had come loose. Something gnaws at the back of your mind—an unease you can’t quite name. Your gaze flickers briefly toward Cecilia, who stands a little too still, a little too composed.

She doesn’t look shocked.

She looks… interested.

Like she’s watching.

And then, as if she senses you looking, she tilts her head slightly—just a fraction—before turning away.

A chill snakes down your spine.

“Hey.” Pedro’s voice pulls you back. He’s crouched next to you, closer now, his hand still hovering near yours but not quite touching. His knee almost brushes against yours. “You with me?”

Your breath hitches.

You hate how he does that—how he sees you so easily, how he pulls you back from the edges of your own mind with nothing but a word, a glance.

“I’m good,” you say, voice quieter than before.

Pedro’s expression darkens, like he doesn’t believe you, but he doesn’t press. Instead, he turns his attention back to the medic. “She needs stitches, right?”

The medic nods. “Yeah. We’ll need to get her patched up properly.”

Pedro exhales through his nose, rubbing a hand over his jaw. He looks like he wants to hit something.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you mutter.

“Like what?”

“Like I just died in front of you or something.”

Pedro does not laugh. In fact, he looks even more tense, if that’s possible.

“You could have,” he says, voice low. “If you hadn’t moved so fast, that thing—” He stops himself, shaking his head. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I shouldn’t have saved you?” you arch a brow. “I didn’t realize that was a bad thing.”

Pedro levels you with a look, one that sends heat crawling up your spine. “You know what I mean.”

There’s something charged in the air between you. A tension neither of you acknowledge, but it’s there, lingering like the static before a storm.

Jess Hall calls for a short break while the crew inspects the rigging failure. People start to disperse, murmuring about safety protocols and near-misses.

But Pedro doesn’t move.

Neither do you.

The medic finishes wrapping your arm in temporary bandages. “She should get properly stitched up in the medical tent.”

Pedro stands before you can even process that. “I’ll take her.”

You blink. “That’s not necessary—”

“Not asking,” Pedro says, holding out a hand to help you up.

You hesitate, but the moment your fingers brush against his, the warmth of his palm against yours, you stop thinking.

He pulls you up carefully, keeping you steady when you sway slightly on your feet. His grip lingers—just a little too long.

And when you finally look up at him, there’s something in his expression that makes your stomach twist.

Something unspoken. Something more.

Something you don’t have the words for yet.

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — MEDICAL TENT

The walk to the medical tent is quiet.

Pedro hasn’t let go of you. His hand hovers near your lower back, not quite touching but close enough that you feel him there—like a tether, grounding you.

You should say something, maybe make a joke, lighten the mood. But the words don’t come. Your arm is starting to throb now, the sharp edge of pain creeping in as the adrenaline fades. You exhale slowly, focusing on each step forward.

Pedro doesn’t rush you. He matches your pace, his brows drawn tight, his jaw locked so hard you can see the muscle tick.

You swallow.

“I mean,” you start, forcing out a breathy laugh, “at least I’m lucky insurance covers this.”

Pedro stops.

Just—stops.

You nearly stumble, caught off guard, but when you turn to look at him, the expression on his face roots you to the spot.

His eyes flicker over you, frustration darkening his gaze. “That’s what you’re thinking about right now?” His voice is tight, controlled, but there’s an edge to it. “Insurance?”

You blink. “I mean… yeah?”

Pedro exhales sharply, raking a hand through his hair. He looks like he’s about to say something else, but then he presses his lips into a firm line, nostrils flaring.

You watch the way his shoulders rise and fall with the weight of whatever he’s holding back.

And suddenly, you get it.

He’s mad.

Not at you. Not really.

He’s mad that you got hurt. Mad that you shoved him out of the way instead of letting him take the hit. Mad that he almost lost you—over a fucking light rig.

Your chest tightens.

“Pedro—”

“Don’t.” His voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper. He looks away, shaking his head. “You scared the shit out of me.”

Your throat feels thick. “I—”

“I saw that thing falling, and I couldn’t move—I couldn’t do anything. And then you—” He cuts himself off, dragging a hand down his face. “Christ.”

Your fingers twitch at your side. You don’t know what to do with this—this version of him. The one unraveling right in front of you.

“I didn’t think,” you admit, voice small. “I just—moved.”

Pedro lets out a quiet, bitter laugh. “Yeah. You did.”

There’s a beat of silence. A moment where the world around you fades, leaving only the two of you standing there in the dimly lit corridor just outside the medical tent.

Then—

Pedro takes a step closer.

And another.

Your breath catches.

His eyes search yours, something raw flickering beneath the surface. He looks at you like he’s memorizing you, like he’s trying to commit this exact moment to something permanent.

You don’t move. You can’t.

Then, barely above a whisper—

“Don’t do that again.”

You part your lips to respond, but before you can say anything—

Pedro cups your face.

And then—

He doesn’t kiss you.

He hesitates. His breath is warm against your lips, his fingers trembling slightly where they rest against your jaw. He’s so close you can count every fleck of gold in his eyes, so close you can feel the way his chest rises and falls against yours.

You exhale, something between relief and longing tightening in your stomach.

Then—a sharp ahem cuts through the moment.

You jolt, heart still racing, as Pedro pulls back slightly—just enough to let you breathe, but not enough to let you go. His hands remain where they are, warm and steady against your skin.

The medic staff is standing in the doorway, arms crossed, one brow arched like they’ve seen this kind of thing play out before.

“Hate to break up the moment,” they say, voice dry, “but I have some stitches to put in.”

You blink.

Right.

The pain in your arm, dulled by adrenaline and—well, Pedro—suddenly makes itself known again, pulsing in time with your heartbeat. You wince, shifting slightly, and Pedro’s hands immediately fall away.

But he doesn’t step back.

If anything, he lingers, his fingers ghosting over your wrist like he’s reluctant to break contact entirely. His brows furrow as he glances down at your injury. “She’s not gonna need the ER, right?”

The medic shakes their head. “Nah. She’s lucky. It’s a clean cut—deep, but nothing life-threatening. We’ll get her stitched up, give her some pain meds, and she’ll live to tell the tale.”

Pedro exhales, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. But not all of it.

You try to make a joke. “Told you I had good insurance.”

Pedro doesn’t laugh.

Instead, he just looks at you.

The kind of look that makes your breath catch, that makes your chest feel too tight, that makes you ache in a way that has nothing to do with your injury.

He doesn’t say anything, but his hand finds yours again, his fingers curling around yours. He squeezes, just once, before letting go.

“Come on,” the medic says, gesturing toward the exam table. “Let’s get this over with.”

You try really hard to be tough about the whole thing.

You really do.

But the moment the needle pierces your skin, you can’t help it—your breath stutters, your body tensing so hard it actually hurts.

“Hey,” Pedro’s voice is right there, warm and grounding. His hand finds your knee, rubbing gentle circles over the fabric of your pants. “Breathe, cariño.”

You suck in a sharp breath through your nose, blinking rapidly against the sting behind your eyes.

God, this is so stupid. You literally work on a film set—you’ve seen worse injuries, watched stunt performers brush off things ten times more intense. But the sensation of the needle threading through your skin, pulling tight with every stitch, is enough to make your stomach turn.

Pedro must see it written all over your face, because before you can spiral too much, he shifts, crouching beside you so you’re eye level. His voice drops lower, softer.

“You’re doing good,” he murmurs. “Just a little more.”

You nod, swallowing against the lump in your throat.

The medic works quickly, but it still feels like forever. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to think of something else. Anything else.

Pedro.

The way he looked at you before he almost kissed you.

The way he held you.

The way he’s still here, watching over you like he has no intention of going anywhere.

“Almost done,” the medic announces, tying off the last stitch. “You’re a champ. Didn’t even cry.”

Barely.

Pedro doesn’t let go of you. His thumb brushes over your knee one last time before he finally stands, watching as the medic cleans up and starts giving you aftercare instructions.

“No lifting anything heavy for a few days. Keep it clean, change the dressing daily. Try not to move your arm too much—don’t want to pull the stitches.” The medic pauses, glancing between you and Pedro with something suspiciously close to amusement. “And get some rest. I mean actual rest. No overworking yourself.”

Pedro snorts. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

You glare at him, but the effect is ruined by how utterly exhausted you feel. The medic finishes up, giving you some painkillers and a fresh bandage before stepping back.

“You’re good to go,” they say. “But seriously—take it easy.”

Pedro notices.

Before you can protest, he’s already there, an arm sliding around your waist to steady you. “Alright, that’s enough excitement for one day,” he mutters. “Come on, I’m taking you back to the hotel.”

End Notes:

I’m a sucker for having character A get injured and character B absolutely losing their shit and realizing they could lose them SO FAST and they haven’t even had a chance to love each other yet LOL

YAHHH I KEEP TEASING YA’LL WITH THE KISS IM SORRY— But I swear it’ll probably happen in the next chapter... maybe... 👀

There’s something wonderful about delayed gratification idk why

Pedro probably didn’t want to kiss you in such a situation like that– he’s probs the type to want to do it right.

Also OOoooOOOoo I almost killed the reader lol. How fun.

Again, my apologies for taking so long with this chapter, school is a bitch and I had to lock tf in for a little bit.

TAGLIST: @comfortzonequeen @christinamadsen @liciafonseca @greenwitchfromthewoods @iqr-x @southernbe @maryfanson @brittmb115 @klajmekk @taytay0403 @whimsiwitchy @zymiii @sarahhxx03 @leilanixx @lilasskicker-23 @https-murdock @barnescamboy @widowsvail @senhoritamayblog @morganlolitta @suzysface @reidsworld @xmaykeca @dontlookatme121 @mandaloriankait @picketniffler @pedrofan @mystickittytaco @enchantingchildkitten @seven-seas-of-fuck-you @ro-nahime-things @senhoritamayblog @hermionelove

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