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theetherealbloom · 2 months ago

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You Got Me So In Love, I've Never Been This Possessive

Summary: While on a scenic boat trip along the coasts of Malta, you bask in the crystal-clear waters, and laughter with Pedro’s cast and crew. Despite his injured arm keeping him on the boat, Pedro can’t keep his eyes off you.

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Established Relationship, TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, Slight Nudity, Slight Angst, Swearing, Anxiety, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Swimming, Bikini, Flirting, Teasing, Cast, Pedro Fell Down The Stairs, ER visit, Hurt-To-Comfort, Mild Spice, Banter, Idk Spanish so the terms might be wrong but I'm trying my best

Word Count: 5K

A/N: GOOD MORNING CHICKENS!!! Y’know how I said there would be a part two? Yup. Also, I know no one asked, but back in High School, I fell down the stairs… A LOT. Like every year for six years. No major bones were broken, only a sprained ankle every time I fell down the stairs, so in a way I guess I was lucky. PSA to always hold the hand railing, and like Pedro said, it can happen to anyone!

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: Te Quiero by KISS OF LIFE

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PASCAL RESIDENCE, CHILE — AFTERNOON

The sun bathed the Pascal family home in a golden glow, the air filled with the scent of freshly baked empanadas and the gentle hum of conversation. You were seated on the patio, your legs tucked under you, watching as Pedro animatedly retold a story from his teenage years. His siblings—Javiera, Lux, and Nicolás—listened with rapt attention, their laughter bubbling over when Pedro’s dad chimed in with his version of events, insisting Pedro had exaggerated again.

“Exaggerated?” Pedro placed a hand on his chest, feigning offense. “I would never! Everything I say is 100% true and scientifically proven.”

“Scientifically proven to be full of nonsense,” Nicolás teased, earning a round of laughter.

You couldn’t help but grin, soaking in the easy camaraderie of the family. Pedro’s hand found yours under the table, his fingers lacing with yours in a way that felt like second nature. He glanced at you, his dark eyes soft with a love so deep it made your chest tighten.

“Tell them,” Pedro said, turning to you with an exaggeratedly serious expression. “Tell them I’m not lying.”

You bit back a laugh, tilting your head in mock consideration. “Well… the story did sound a bit too good to be true.”

“Et tu, mi amor?” he groaned, but the corners of his mouth quirked up in a smile.

Javiera, ever the ringleader, stood and declared, “Enough storytelling! Let’s put her to the test. If she’s going to be part of this family, she needs to learn brisca.”

Pedro leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Fair warning: They’ll gang up on you.”

“Good thing I’ve got you on my side,” you murmured, a soft blush rising to your cheeks.

“I’ll always be on your side,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple that sent a shiver down your spine.

A FEW HOURS LATER…

The sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the yard. Pedro had wandered inside to grab more drinks for everyone while you stayed on the patio with Lux, discussing her latest project.

The sound of a crash shattered the peaceful air. You froze, the glass in Lux’s hand slipping and shattering on the ground.

“Pedro!” you gasped, bolting toward the house.

Inside, you found him crumpled at the base of the stairs, his face pale and contorted in pain. Nicolás was already at his side, his hands hovering uncertainly as if afraid to make things worse.

“Call an ambulance!” you shouted, your voice shaking as you knelt beside Pedro.

He looked up at you, his breaths shallow and uneven. “I’m okay, I’m okay,” he said through gritted teeth, but his wince betrayed him.

“You’re not okay,” you said, your hands trembling as you gently brushed the hair from his forehead. “What happened?”

“I missed the last step,” he muttered, trying to manage a weak smile. “Guess I’m not as graceful as I thought.”

“Pedro, this isn’t funny,” you whispered, tears pricking your eyes.

Javiera appeared with the phone pressed to her ear, speaking rapidly to the emergency dispatcher. Lux crouched beside you, her face pale as she reached for Pedro’s uninjured hand.

“Help’s on the way,” Javiera assured you, her voice steady despite the panic in her eyes.

Minutes felt like hours as you waited for the ambulance. You kept your focus on Pedro, your hand gripping his tightly. “Just breathe, okay? I’m right here. You’re going to be fine.”

THE ER — EVENING

The antiseptic smell of the hospital hit you as you paced the waiting room, your heart pounding in your chest. Pedro had been whisked away for X-rays, and you felt helpless, the absence of his hand in yours leaving you cold.

When the doctor finally emerged, you rushed to meet him, Javiera and Nicolás close behind.

“Mr. Pascal has a broken arm,” the doctor explained. “It’s a clean break, but he’ll need surgery to set the bone properly. We’re scheduling it for late January.”

Relief and worry collided in your chest. “Can I see him?” you asked, your voice small.

The doctor nodded, and you followed the nurse to Pedro’s room. He was sitting up in bed, his arm in a temporary sling, his face pale but his smile still intact.

“Hey, troublemaker,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

You crossed the room in a few quick steps, perching on the edge of his bed. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” you said, your voice breaking as tears spilled over.

Pedro reached for your hand with his good arm, his thumb brushing soothing circles over your knuckles. “I’m sorry, mi amor,” he murmured, his eyes glistening.

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his. “I thought… I thought something worse happened. I couldn’t breathe until I saw you.”

“I’m here,” he whispered, his voice steady despite the pain. “And I’ll be fine. Especially with you by my side.”

You kissed him gently, pouring every ounce of love and relief into the touch. As his lips moved against yours, you felt the fear begin to fade, replaced by the overwhelming gratitude that he was still here with you.

“I’ll take care of you,” you promised, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. “Whatever you need, I’m here.”

Pedro smiled, his gaze tender. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you said, brushing a tear from your cheek. “You deserve the world.”

And in that moment, surrounded by beeping monitors and the sterile walls of the hospital, it felt like nothing else mattered but the two of you.

FORT RICASOLI, MALTA — DAY

The sun was high over Fort Ricasoli, the Mediterranean breeze carrying a salty tang as waves crashed against the nearby shore. The reconstructed Roman Colosseum loomed grandly in the fort, its grandeur a perfect backdrop for the epic Gladiator II production. You stepped out of the transport van, sunglasses shielding your eyes from the bright Maltese sun, a bag slung over your shoulder filled with Pedro’s essentials—medication, snacks, and a cold water bottle you knew he’d try to avoid drinking unless reminded.

As you walked toward the set, Pedro spotted you first, his face lighting up in a way that made your heart ache with affection. He was seated in the shade near the makeup tent, his left arm encased in a royal blue cast that made him look both ridiculous and endearing.

“Hi,” you called, setting your bag down beside him. “I’m here to be your nurse.”

Pedro’s grin widened, his dark eyes softening. “You’re more than my nurse. You’re my lifesaver. And I love you so much.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his forehead. “How’s the arm?”

“It’s humiliating,” he muttered, holding up the cast as if it were a mark of disgrace. “Everyone keeps staring at it. Or laughing. Or both.”

“There’s nothing humiliating about needing help once in a while, my love,” you said gently, brushing a curl from his forehead. “Besides, it’s a great conversation starter.”

“Oh, yeah. Real smooth. ‘Hi, I’m Pedro Pascal, and I fell down a flight of stairs like a medieval jester.’”

You smothered a laugh just as Joseph Quinn sauntered by, pausing dramatically to give Pedro an exaggerated salute. “How’s the mighty warrior today? Still battling gravity, I see.”

“Go away,” Pedro groaned, waving his good arm dismissively.

“You’re a walking PSA now,” Fred Hechinger added as he passed. “Don’t text and walk down stairs, kids!”

Denzel Washington approached next, shaking his head with mock solemnity. “And here I thought I was the one who’d pull a stunt like that.”

“Traitors,” Pedro muttered, pulling you closer as if you could shield him from the teasing.

Coco, his ever-sassy hair stylist, smirked as she fixed his curls. “Just make sure she doesn’t trip over your ego next.”

“Coco!” Pedro whined, but his cheeks flushed, his pout making him look boyish and undeniably adorable.

Ridley Scott ambled over, his tone a mix of concern and exasperation. “Take it easy, Pedro. You’re not 25 anymore.”

“Gee, thanks, Ridley,” Pedro huffed, pulling you against him as if seeking comfort.

The day pressed on, the heat making Pedro’s clinginess somehow both unbearable and heart-meltingly sweet. Despite the steady teasing from the cast and crew, he stuck close to you like a second shadow whenever he wasn’t on set, his blue cast drawing as much attention as his ever-present pout.

During a break, he tugged at your hand, a soft whine slipping from his lips. “Go with me?”

You glanced up from the book you were pretending to read. “Go where?”

“Craft services,” he said, gesturing toward the shaded area where snacks and cold drinks awaited. “I’m starving, and I need moral support.”

“You literally just had a protein bar,” you teased, but stood anyway, slipping your hand into his.

“As long as you hold my hand,” you added with a smirk, letting him lead the way.

His good hand entwined with yours, his thumb brushing lazy circles over your skin as you walked. “You know I’m not letting go, right?”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Reaching the craft services tent, Pedro made a beeline for the iced lemonade, his cast making the process comically awkward. You reached over to help him hold the cup steady as he poured, ignoring the amused glances from the crew around you.

“I got it,” he insisted, though his pouty tone betrayed his frustration.

“Sure you do, Mr. Dexterity,” you teased. “Here, let me.”

As you steadied the cup, Paul Mescal appeared beside you, a mischievous grin plastered across his face. “What’s it like being Pedro’s personal assistant and cuddle therapist?”

Pedro narrowed his eyes, his body shifting slightly as if to shield you from Paul’s teasing. “She’s an angel,” he declared, his tone defensive. “Unlike all of you degenerates.”

Paul laughed, grabbing a handful of chips. “Touché.”

Connie Nielsen joined the growing group, her warm smile softening the teasing atmosphere. “An angel with the patience of a saint,” she agreed. “He’s lucky to have you.”

You squeezed Pedro’s hand, glancing up at him with a playful glint in your eye. “Oh, I know.”

Pedro leaned down, his voice low and sweet in your ear. “Remind me to buy you something shiny and expensive later.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” you whispered back, brushing a kiss to his cheek just as Coco walked by, her ever-present smirk firmly in place.

“Are we making out by the lemonade now?” she quipped, adjusting Pedro’s wig as she passed. “Just don’t knock over the drink dispenser, Casanova.”

Pedro groaned, but you could see the corner of his mouth twitching, betraying his amusement.

When Pedro was shooting, you stayed nearby, perched under an umbrella with a bottle of water and a timer set for his next dose of medication. He’d been restless all morning, constantly checking in between takes to make sure you were still there.

The moment the director called cut, Pedro scanned the area until his eyes landed on you. A small smile tugged at his lips as he made a beeline toward you, his costume slightly dusty from the action sequence.

“Hydrate,” you ordered the moment he reached you, holding out the water bottle.

He wrinkled his nose but took it, his good hand struggling to unscrew the cap. You wordlessly reached over to help, earning a sheepish look from him.

“You know,” he said after a long sip, “you’re bossier than Ridley.”

“You love it,” you countered, wiping the sweat from his brow with a small towel you’d tucked into your bag.

Pedro’s lips curved into a soft smile, his gaze lingering on you. “I do,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “A little too much.”

Your heart squeezed at the tenderness in his tone, and you reached up to brush a stray curl from his forehead. “Good. Now go back to work. Ridley’s glaring at us.”

He glanced over his shoulder, spotting the director gesturing for him to return. “Fine,” he grumbled, but not before pressing a quick kiss to your forehead.

As he walked back toward the set, Ridley shook his head, a faint smile on his face. “That woman of yours has you wrapped around her little finger.”

Pedro shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. “Don’t I know it.”

THE XARA PALACE RELAIS & CHÂTEAUX, MALTA — EVENING

The day had taken its toll on both of you, but by the time you returned to the cozy luxury of the hotel suite, Pedro’s exhaustion only seemed to amplify his need for affection. As soon as the door clicked shut behind you, he flopped dramatically onto the small couch, casting a forlorn look your way.

“Come here,” he said, his good arm extended toward you like a lifeline.

You chuckled, slipping off your sandals. “I thought you were tired.”

“I am,” he replied, his lips twitching into a pout. “But I’ll sleep better if you’re right here.”

Shaking your head fondly, you joined him on the couch, only to be pulled down against his side the moment you were close enough.

“It’s too hot for this,” you teased, trying—and failing—to push against his firm hold.

“Don’t care,” Pedro murmured, nuzzling into the curve of your neck as if you were the only source of comfort in the world. “You make everything better.”

You sighed softly, your resolve melting as your fingers found their way into his curls. They were still slightly damp from his post-shoot shower, and you gently combed through them, marveling at how they always seemed to spring back into place.

“I think that’s the heatstroke talking,” you quipped, though your voice was warm with affection.

“No,” he said, his voice muffled against your skin. “That’s the love of my life talking.”

Your hand stilled for a moment, the weight of his words settling over you like a gentle wave. You pulled back slightly to look at him, but Pedro didn’t let you get far. His warm brown eyes met yours, brimming with sincerity that made your breath catch.

“You’re insufferable,” you said, though the tremor in your voice betrayed how deeply his words had affected you.

“And you’re perfect,” he countered, his tone so soft and certain it made your heart ache in the best way.

Your cheeks warmed, and you leaned down to press a tender kiss to his temple. “You’re lucky I love you,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his skin.

Pedro grinned, his good arm tightening around you as he pulled you even closer. “I’m the luckiest man alive.”

For a while, the two of you sat in a comfortable silence, the soft hum of the air conditioning blending with the distant sounds of the Maltese evening outside. Pedro’s breathing began to slow, his head resting heavily against your shoulder as he drifted off. His cast was awkwardly propped up on his chest, and you carefully adjusted a pillow beneath it, not wanting him to wake up sore.

As you gazed down at him, his face relaxed and peaceful in sleep, your heart swelled with a familiar ache—one born of overwhelming love. He might’ve been clingy and dramatic, prone to complaints about his cast and the heat, but he was also tender and selfless, with a way of making you feel like the most cherished person in the world.

You traced the curve of his jaw with the tips of your fingers, marveling at how even in his sleep, his hold on you never loosened. He was steady and constant in a way that made you feel safe, loved, and utterly at home.

He might’ve fallen down the stairs, but it felt like you were the one falling—deeper in love with him every single day.

Later that night, as the two of you lay tangled together in the king-sized bed, Pedro stirred, his voice groggy but laced with warmth.

“Are you still awake?”

“Barely,” you murmured, your head resting against his uninjured shoulder. “Why?”

He shifted slightly, his fingers grazing over your arm in lazy circles. “Just wanted to say… thank you.”

“For what?”

“For taking care of me. For putting up with me being clingy. For loving me even when I’m ridiculous,” he said, his voice soft but earnest.

You smiled in the darkness, pressing a kiss to his chest. “It’s not putting up with you, Pedro. It’s just loving you. And it’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

His breath hitched, and he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, his words carrying the weight of unspoken emotion.

“You deserve everything,” you replied, your voice firm despite the tears prickling at your eyes.

Pedro’s arms tightened around you, and in that moment, the world outside the four walls of your suite seemed to fade away. There was only the two of you, tangled together in love and gratitude, the promise of another day together stretching out before you like a gift.

And as you drifted off to sleep, cradled in his embrace, you couldn’t imagine a place you’d rather be.

COASTS OF MALTA — MORNING

The morning sun bathed the harbor in a soft, golden glow as you and Pedro stepped onto the pristine deck of the yacht, greeted by the lively chatter of his castmates and the crew. The day promised adventure—an exploration of Malta’s dazzling coastlines, including the famed Blue Lagoon, Crystal Lagoon, and the secretive caves on Comino. The air smelled of salt and freedom, and the water, impossibly blue and inviting, stretched out like a gem-laden carpet before you.

Pedro lingered close to you, his blue cast slung in a casual sling, though it didn’t stop him from giving your hand a light squeeze. He leaned down, his voice low and teasing.

"Don’t get too excited," he murmured with a grin, his dark eyes gleaming. "You’ll make me look bad."

You bumped your shoulder into his, rolling your eyes. "I can’t help it if I’m more fun than you."

"More fun? Or more distracting?" His gaze flicked briefly to the bikini peeking out from your cover-up, his expression bordering on predatory before he quickly masked it with a playful smirk.

“Behave, Pascal,” you teased, your cheeks warming under his intense stare.

As the boat cruised toward its first stop, the Blue Lagoon, the mood was light and cheerful. Connie and Fred lounged near the bow, animatedly swapping stories with the crew, their laughter carrying over the soft sound of the waves. Coco flitted around like a hummingbird with her camera, capturing candid shots of the lively group. Near the railing, Paul was attempting to teach Denzel a ridiculous dance move, the two of them tripping over their own feet and causing more chaos than rhythm.

You stood near Pedro, feeling the sun’s warmth on your skin, the gentle breeze teasing at your cover-up. A playful grin spread across your face as you untied the knot at your waist, sliding the fabric off and tossing it onto a nearby lounge chair. The vibrant bikini beneath was perfectly chosen—bright and bold against your skin, hugging your curves in a way that made you feel confident and beautiful.

Pedro, seated comfortably in the shade with his injured arm resting on a cushion, froze mid-sip of his drink. His gaze locked onto you, his eyes darkening as they traced every inch of your form. Appreciation was clear in his expression, but it was the simmering heat in his stare that sent a thrill down your spine.

You stretched your arms over your head, feigning oblivion to his attention as you joined Coco and Paul in their antics. The movement made your waist curve just enough to draw a quiet groan from Pedro’s lips, which didn’t go unnoticed by Coco. She smirked, leaning down to whisper as she passed him.

“Subtle,” she teased, her voice dripping with amusement.

Pedro didn’t even attempt to hide his grin. His eyes stayed glued to you as he shrugged, unapologetic. “Can you blame me?”

Coco snorted. “Not one bit. But maybe cool it unless you want everyone else to notice how thirsty you are.”

“Let them,” Pedro muttered, mostly to himself. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he watched you laugh with Paul, the way your body moved under the bright sun making it nearly impossible for him to look away.

When you caught his eye and shot him a playful wink, his good hand flexed against the armrest of his chair, the urge to pull you back to him almost too strong to resist.

Later, as you leaned over the edge of the boat, peering down at the water with Paul pointing out fish, Pedro’s voice rumbled low behind you.

“You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”

You turned to find him standing close, his cast resting awkwardly at his side. “I am. The water’s beautiful,” you said with a smile, but his eyes weren’t on the water.

“They’re not the only thing,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to the curve of your hips, the dip of your waist.

Heat bloomed on your cheeks, but you couldn’t help the grin that tugged at your lips. “Pedro Pascal,” you teased, stepping closer. “Are you flirting with me on a boat in front of all your castmates?”

“Flirting?” He scoffed, his voice rich with amusement. “I’m just admiring. Can’t a man admire his girlfriend?”

“Girlfriend?” you repeated, arching a brow.

He smirked, leaning in just enough for his breath to ghost over your skin. “The girlfriend,” he corrected, his voice dropping into a tone that sent a shiver racing through you despite the heat.

You bit your lip, glancing around at the others, who were too distracted to notice the charged moment. “Behave yourself,” you whispered, though your heart raced at the way his good hand brushed lightly against your hip.

He grinned, leaning back with an exaggerated sigh. “I’m trying, but you’re not making it easy, sweetheart.”

The way he said it, rough and low, had your stomach doing flips. The teasing sparkle in his eyes told you he knew exactly the effect he was having on you—and he wasn’t the least bit sorry about it.

When the boat anchored near the Blue Lagoon, you practically bounced with excitement. “I’m going in!”

Pedro chuckled as you grabbed your snorkeling gear, pausing to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Try not to miss me too much,” you teased before hopping off the boat with an elegant dive.

“Not possible,” he called after you, his voice tinged with laughter.

The water was cool and crystal clear, every ripple catching the sunlight like scattered diamonds. You swam alongside Coco and Paul, laughing as he tried to outswim everyone only to splash clumsily when Coco teased him about his lack of grace. Schools of fish darted around you, their silvery bodies glimmering in the lagoon’s shallows, and the thrill of the moment made you forget the world beyond the sparkling blue waters.

Pedro watched from the deck, his good hand cradling a drink as his cast rested on his lap. He smiled softly, his heart swelling at the sight of you. You were so effortlessly kind, so radiant, laughing and splashing with his friends as if you’d known them your whole life.

“She’s really something,” Ridley remarked as he joined Pedro at the shaded table.

“Don’t I know it,” Pedro replied, his voice warm with pride.

“She’s good for you,” Ridley said simply, his tone laced with a rare softness.

Pedro glanced at the director, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. She’s my soulmate.”

Later, you clambered back onto the boat, droplets of water clinging to your skin, sparkling in the sunlight as they traced lazy paths down your arms and legs. Your grin was infectious, the kind of radiant joy that could light up an entire room—or, in this case, the deck of the boat. Pedro’s eyes were glued to you, as though the rest of the world had faded into the background.

“Having fun?” he asked, his voice tinged with amusement but warm with affection.

“The best,” you replied breathlessly, grabbing a towel and wringing out your hair. “You should’ve come in with us. The water is incredible.”

He raised his cast dramatically, pulling a mock grimace. “In case you forgot, I’m a bit handicapped here.”

“Oh, poor baby,” you teased, crouching beside him. You leaned in to press a playful kiss to his cheek, your lips lingering just long enough to make him sigh. “Next time, I’ll stay on the boat with you. We can sulk together.”

Pedro’s good hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer before you could stand. “Don’t you dare,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble in your ear. “Watching you have fun out there is the next best thing to being in the water myself.”

You arched a brow, motioning to your bikini with a teasing grin. “You mean you like the view.”

Pedro’s lips curved into a slow, devilish smirk. His mouth brushed your ear as he whispered, “I love the view.”

The heat of his words sent a shiver down your spine, making your cheeks flush. You swatted at his chest playfully before standing and tossing the towel over your shoulder. “Careful, Pascal. You’re not supposed to overheat with that cast on.”

The boat anchored near the caves on Comino, the turquoise water shimmering like liquid glass. Pedro waved you off with a mock sternness, insisting you go explore while he stayed behind.

“I’ll hold down the fort,” he said, settling back into his chair with a small smirk. “Don’t get lost in there.”

You rolled your eyes, blowing him a kiss before diving into the water with Paul and Fred. The group swam toward the darkened entrance of the caves, their laughter echoing off the limestone walls. Inside, the sunlight filtered through cracks, casting dancing patterns on the rocky surfaces.

Pedro, stuck on the boat, didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. His gaze followed you like a shadow, lingering on the curve of your body as you moved effortlessly through the water. Every so often, you glanced back at the boat, catching him watching you. He didn’t even pretend to look away, his expression soft, adoring, and entirely unguarded.

When you returned, dripping wet and exhilarated, you plopped down beside him with a dramatic sigh, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“You’ve been staring at me all day,” you teased, your tone light but your heart pounding at the intensity of his attention.

Pedro turned his head slightly, brushing his lips against your temple. “Can you blame me?” he murmured. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten. You tilted your head to meet his gaze, your hand finding his on the armrest. “You’re laying it on thick today,” you joked, though your voice wavered just slightly.

“It’s the truth,” he countered simply, his thumb brushing across your knuckles.

Your moment was interrupted by Paul’s exaggerated wolf whistle from across the deck. “Get a room, you two!”

Fred chimed in with a loud groan. “Some of us are single and fragile!”

You laughed, your head falling back briefly before you turned to Pedro, lowering your voice so only he could hear. “They’re just jealous.”

“Damn right, they are,” Pedro said, leaning in close. “You’re all mine.”

The possessiveness in his tone was playful but sent your pulse racing nonetheless.

Later, as the boat rocked gently in the open waters, you sat on Pedro’s lap, his good arm wrapped securely around your waist. The sun had begun its descent, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold.

“Pedro,” you said softly, your fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on his thigh. “Can we stay like this forever?”

His eyes softened as he looked down at you, his smile tender. “I’d stay here with you forever if I could,” he replied, his voice filled with quiet certainty.

The weight of his words settled over you, grounding you in the moment. You bit your lip, leaning in closer until your noses brushed. “Please just kiss me already.”

Pedro didn’t need to be asked twice. His lips captured yours in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, full of unspoken promises and a depth of feeling that took your breath away. His hand splayed across your back, pulling you impossibly closer as the world around you seemed to disappear.

When you finally pulled apart, his forehead rested against yours, and he let out a soft laugh. “I think you might be my soulmate,” he said, his voice a mixture of awe and certainty.

Your eyes searched his, and for a moment, the noise of the others and the gentle lapping of the waves faded entirely. “I think you might be mine too,” you whispered, sealing the moment with another kiss.

Laughter and chatter echoed around you, the boat a hub of joy and togetherness, but for you and Pedro, time seemed to stand still. In his arms, surrounded by the beauty of Malta and the warmth of his love, you knew you were exactly where you were meant to be.

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orodaeh · 18 days ago

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This man has risen my standards too high... making me say "walk, you're not Pedro Pascal"...

Pedro Pascal on Pinterest by Tumblr

#marcus acacius #joel miller #frankie morales #pedro pascal #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal fics #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #pedrohub #pedrito #jose pedro balmaceda pascal

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liminaltourist · 8 months ago

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Found this photo and it's totally Pedro Pascal coded. Am I wrong? 🤔 I'm afraid I've fallen down the rabbit hole 🐇

P.s. if you write something a fic about this please tag me. Would love to read it!

#pedrito #girl dinner #pedrohub #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller #narcos #pedropascal #zaddy pedro #pedro pascal #frankie morales #javier peña #pedro pascal smut

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orcasoul · 2 months ago

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The Plus One

Summery: You and Pedro have been in a relationship for a while but for some reason he'd stopped inviting you to social events. Has he grown tired of you...?

Warnings: swearing, angst (because I liiive for it!), mental health issues, low self esteem from reader, caring Pedro, fluff, use of Y/N.

This is inspired by the video of Pedro dancing his arse off at Sarah Paulsons 50th birthday party. God bless this man for randomly inspiring us when he's not even trying to lol.

Word Count: 3,516

It's a quiet evening at home. The living room fireplace is softy blazing, the crackling red and orange flames along with the Christmas tree lights and low lamp light bathes the room in a reposeful ambience. You're snuggled up on the settee in your favourite fluffy Oodie, sipping a hot chocolate as you finish reading a Christmas rom com by one of your favourite authors. And while this is something that usually helps you to unwind at the end of the day, you can't seem to shift that gutting feeling deep down in your stomach. You should have been with Pedro tonight at Sarah's party instead of here alone. With the book finished you're about to check Kindle for your next read but before opening the app, you'd decided to check your notifications on facebook.

Now you wish you hadn't. Of course the first thing to pop up would be a video of Pedro having the time of his life at the party. Not that that is the real issue here. You're not the controlling or possessive type who wants to keep their partner all for yourself and deny them any kind of social life; quite the opposit, in fact. The thing that really hurts, that makes your heart physically ache is that you're never included in Pedro's social events anymore. You would have loved to have been his date to Sarah's party and make memories with him like normal couples do. You've met Sarah on several occasions and the two of you had always got along really well, so why would he rather go alone than bring you?

You've been together for six months now, so it's not like you're in the early stages where you're both yet to meet the others' family and friends. It just doesn't make sense. You had attended a few ceremonies and promotional events for Pedro's movies with him before now and even though they had been quite intense environments to be in, you were just thrilled to be there with him, to support him and show the world how proud you are of him. And you'd like to think that you were adept at hiding the effects that your social anxiety had on you during these occasions. You'd smile, engage in chit chat and if it became too overwhelming you'd always secretly resort to your special coping technique to calm your nerves; stroking slow circles on the palm of your hand.

But it had been months since you'd last attended any events with him and as time goes on it just hurts more and more. You'd hoped time would have made it easier to accept, but truthfully it makes you feel abandoned, insignificant, like you don't belong in his world. Is that it? Is he embarrassed by you? It's true you're both from very different worlds, having met through friends of friends and not through working together in the film industry. Sometimes you still can't understand why he'd chose to be with a nobody like you when he could literally have any woman he wanted. As your mind continues to spiral, taking you to dark places, tears begin to roll down your cheeks.

To love him so much, only to feel it's not enough for him to want you around is... soul crushing. You'd been trying for so long to ignore that niggling little voice in the back of your mind; the one telling you that you aren't good enough for him and there has been times when you'd been able to mute it, especially when you're together and he looks at you with pure adoration in his eyes, or the times he would come home to LA between filming, even if it was just for a couple of days to see you or if he couldn't make it he'd fly you out to the set. No matter what he always made time for your relationship, but only out of the public eye. Pedro has always been a private person, especially when it comes to romantic involvements, but it feels like he's trying to hide you.

And now, this latest video has turned that niggling little voice into a full on megaphone, screaming an endless barrage of ugly truths at you; you're not enough for him. He's bored of you. You're an embarrassment, a stone around his neck. It was only a matter of time. You clutch at your chest as your heart shatters into a thousand pieces, sobs wracking your body. It's over! How could you have not seen it sooner?! He doesn't need you in his life. He's bloody Pedro Pascal for heavens' sake.

You were a delusional fool to ever believe you had anything to offer him. Maybe this is his way of subtly telling you it wasn't working for him anymore. Maybe he'd hoped showing you the stark differences between you both would have made you realise it couldn't continue, and being the kind and gentle man he is, he didn't want to outright dump you and hurt you, so this was the best strategy.

Now your sorrow is tinged with anger. If he wanted to end it all this time he damn well should have had the balls to tell you instead of dragging it out. So, it's down to you now; if he won't do it, you'll have to. Your tablet screen is now shining with your tears. You wipe it dry with your sleeve and throw it down beside you, Knidle well and truly forgotton. Fluffing up a cushion, you curl up on the settee while your broken heart mourns and weeps.

As the party came to an end Pedro couldn't help but feel a little relieved. He'd had a great time and wouldn't have missed one of his best friends' milestone birthdays for the world, but he missed you like hell tonight. He especially felt the sting of your absence when he would see couples dancing or sitting together, hand in hand or snuggling up. He feels selfish, but he wishes you could have been here tonight. And not just tonight, but to all his recent public appearances like the premiers for The Wild Robot and Gladiator 2, but he won't put you through that again.

The guilt still eats away at him when he casts his mind back to the last couple of times you'd attended high profile events with him, even low key and private ones where there isn't a constant blinding flash of cameras. He knows of your struggles with your mental health, in particular with social anxiety (something he can absolutely relate to) and even through your obvious facade he could see what the pressure was doing to you, often feeling a slight tremble in your hand while laced with his. He could see the difference between your forced smile and your genuine smile; the one that would make your eyes sparkle and he could lose himself in them completely.

But the worst thing was when you start rubbing the palm of your hand over and over when you'd thought he wasn't watching. He knew then it was all becoming too much for you and that's when he'd decided that he won't be selfish anymore, that he had to prioritise your well being and comfort before his own and if that meant attending ceremonies and large gatherings alone, so be it. Of course, he always felt incomplete without you at his side, but your needs far outweigh his own as far as he's concerned. Knowing he can shield you from even a fraction of discomfort makes the sacrifice worth it.

After slipping into his jacket, Pedro found Sarah at the front door of her house, waving some guests off. Wrapping her in a big hug, he said, "Happy birthday again, sweetie and thanks for inviting me." Sarah returned the hug. "I'm so glad you came, but I missed seeing Y/N tonight. How is she?" Pedro couldn't hold back the grin that broke out across his face at the mention of your name. "She's great. I wanted to bring her tonight, but I think the crowd would have been too much for her." Sarah smiled endearingly at her friend. "You really do love her, don't you?" Pedro chuckled. "What makes you say that?"

"Oh no reason..." she smirked. " Only that I've never seen you so smitten and protective over any other woman in all the years I've known you. You've got it bad." Pedro rolled his eyes, playfully. "Yeah, I guess I do." "So, what are you waiting for?" Sarah crossed her arms over her chest. "What are you talking about?" Pedro asked, knowing exactly what she meant. "You've been carrying that ring around with you for weeks now and still haven't asked her. What's holding you back?" Pedro shifted uncomfortably, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Just worried about her, that's all. The moment word gets out of an engagement, paparazzi will be circling like vultures. I don't just want her overwhelmed." "I think you underestimate her," Sarah began, "I don't think she'd ever let her anxiety get in the way of being with you. It's obvious how much she loves you. In fact when I'm around you two for too long, the sweetness gives me temporary diabetes." Pedro let out a deep belly laugh at that, drawing one from Sarah in return.

"Just do it..." she urged, gently. "You know she'll say yes." Pedro smiled and nodded, "I know." "Well..." Sarah yawned, "Get out of here. I'm fifty now and need my beauty sleep." She gave Pedro another hug. "So, I'll see you and Y/N for lunch next week?" "Sure," Pedro replied, "Goodnight, sweetie." He waved as he walked to his car. "Night," Sarah called out before closing the door.

Settling in his car, Pedro connected his phone to the car speaker and rang your phone. He promised he'd call after the party to say goodnight and couldn't wait to hear your voice. But as soon as you answered, he knew something was wrong. "Hey baby, everything okay?" he asked, worridly. His worry only increased when you cleared your throat, trying to hide the tremble in your voice. "Yeah um... I'm fine." You most definitely aren't fine! "You're a shit liar, you know that?" Pedro says, lightheartedly to help put you at ease. Now his tone turns more serious. "Tell me what's wrong." Silence... "Y/N? You're starting to scare me now." "I told you I'm fine. I'm just... tired." You tried to sound convincing but failed, spectacularly.

"I'm coming over -" "No!" Your abrupt outburst silenced Pedro. You've never turned him away in all the months you've been together. "It's... uh... it's late. You should just get home safe." Pedro sighed. "I know something's wrong and if you won't tell me on the phone I'm coming over." At that, you burst into tears. A pang shot straight through Pedro's heart at the sound of you crying. "Hey, baby, talk to me!" he pled. "What happened?" In between the the sniffling your voice became strained. "I didn't want to do this over the phone." Pedro suddenly had a sinking feeling in his gut, not liking the tone of this conversation. "Do what?" he asked, hesitantly. "Its..." sniffle, "It's over."

If Pedro hadn't already been sitting in the car his legs would have given out on him! "W- what?!" he stuttered in disbelief. "What do you mean it's over?!" His hands gripped the steering wheel for support. Where the fuck did this come from all of a sudden?! "Please..." you whispered, sounding mentally drained. "Don't pretend you didn't know this was coming. If you don't want me anymore you should have said something sooner." Pdero jerked his head back, blinking in shock. "What the hell are you talking about, Y/N?" You are full on sobbing now, your words just an unintelligible jumble. "I'm coming over, right now!" "No, please-" "I'm coming over!" he cut you off bluntly and hung up the phone.

His hands shook as he started up the engine and it took all of his willpower to not floor it to your house. Getting pulled over for speeding is the last thing he needs right now. The whole way over, his mind was a frantic mess. What could have happened between the last time he saw you (which was only yesterday) and now? Did he say something? Do something? When he got to your house, he practically flew from the car, his fist pounding on your front door almost as hard as his heart was pounding behind his ribs. "Baby open up, please. I'm not leaving until you talk to me." A few moments later the door cracked open and there you stood, puffy eyed and blotchy faced. Your lips had swollen and your nose shone red from crying.

Pedro could have cried himself from the state you're in. Without a second thought he pushed his way through the door and swept you into his arms, cupping the back of your head to his chest. To his relief, instead of pushing him away, you encircled your arms around his waist, holding him tight. He reached back to close the door behind him, then guided you to the setee, sitting beside you. "Now, what's all this about, hmm? I know this isn't what you really want." You shook your head, a small humourless laugh escaping you. "Of course it's not, but deep down I think it's what you want."

Pedro's forefinger gently tipped your chin up so you were looking into his eyes; big puppy dog eyes filled hurt, confusion and fear. "What I want?" His bottom lip twitched as if he was lost for words. You nod, wiping your cheeks. "W- why would you ever think something like that, sweetheart?" Pedro's shocked expression now has you doubting yourself. Were you wrong? But how could you be? For a while, you've been trying to ignore the feeling that he was slipping away but looking at him now... It's like he'd never even entertained the idea of leaving you. All this uncertainty is giving you whiplash and you can't hold it in anymore. You need to get everything off your chest.

"I..." you trail off as you feel more tears gathering, ready to pour out along with all your insecurities. "...I feel like you don't want me around anymore..." you begin, chest shuddering with nerves and hiccups. "You never invite me to anything, whether it's to do with your public life or even your social life. I'm never included like a partner should be. I need you to be honest... Are you ashamed of me? Because sometimes I feel like you don't want to be seen with me and that you've been pulling away..." You're rambling now, but you just can't stop. "I know I'm not on the same level as you and there are so many beautiful women out there throwing themselves at your feet. Maybe I don't belong in your world. Maybe I'm not enough for you-" Pedro's hands on either side of your face stops your self deprecating tirade.

"Baby, don't you ever put yourself down like that again, you hear me?" You're shocked to see Pedro's cheeks are now wet too. "I'm sorry. Fucking hell! I'm so sorry I made you feel that way. I thought I was protecting you this whole time." "Protecting me?" you ask in bewilderment. Pedro gave you a sad smile. "I Know from years of experience that being in the spotlight is tough. It can be draining and I could see how hard it was for you." Pedro took one of your hands and turned it over, rubbing slow circles into your palm. When you realised what he meant by that action, he nodded and kissed your forehead.

"I know you tried to hide it from me, but I noticed every time." "I'm sorry," you mumbled, shame burning your cheeks. "No." Pedro squeezed your hand. "You never apologise for that. I'm the one who's sorry. I was afraid if I mentioned it, you deny it for my sake, so I stopped asking you to come with me thinking it was the best thing for you." Pedro exhaled and your heart ached for him, seeing the guilt and remorse crushing him. "I didn't think it would have looked like I never want you around, 'cause the truth is I miss you, EVERY GODDAMN TIME I have to attend these things without you. I want you with me, now and forever. I'll tell you what..." he looked to be carefully considering his next words. "if you feel up for it, come with me to the next event and if you feel overwhelmed at any point, you tell me and we'll take some time out or even leave."

More tears fall, but this time from sheer relief. You hadn't realised you'd dropped your head again until Pedro, once again, lifted your chin. He looked into your eyes with a fierce and passionate determination. "Now, I'll say this only once; I'm not ashamed of you, we are on the same level, you are more than enough for me and you ARE my world. I love you, so much!" You couldn't fight the beaming smile that practically split your face and you grabbed Pedro by the collar of his jacket, crashing your lips against his.

A surprised "Oomph!" came from his throat and you felt him smile against your mouth. His hands slid to your waist and he pulled you flush to his upper body. His tongue licked your lips and you opened them, allowing him to deepen then kiss; a kiss filled with love, reassurance and a promise of forever. Pedro then broke the kiss, pulling you into a hug. "I love you too," you whispered into his ear. "And I'm sorry, I should have told you how I was feeling instead of keeping it from you." Pedro cupped your cheek, wiping away a tear. "I'm sorry too, for making that decision for you instead of talking to you."

You let out a lighthearted chuckle, Pedro's frown softening at the sound. "I guess it was just bad communication on both our parts." "Yeah..." he agreed. "Let's make a promise to each other, right now; that we'll always be open and honest with each other and not keep things bottled up." "I promise," you smile and kiss the tip of his nose. "And I promise, too," he returned the kiss. With all the tension drained from your body, you suddenly feel exhausted and can't stop the big yawn taking over you. Pedro smiled at you, adoringly. "I think we should get you to bed, sweetheart." He stood up, picking you up off the setee and made his way to your bedroom.

"Will you stay tonight?" You whisper as you snuggle into his neck, inhaling the scent you love so much. "Of course I will." He kissed the crown of your head. While you used the bathroom, pedro changed into a pair of PJ bottoms and an old T-shirt he'd left here for when he'd stay over. He used the bathroom after you, rushing through brushing his teeth just so he could return to you sooner. Walking into the bedroom, he laughed to himself when all could see was your eyes peeking at him from the edge of the quilt, which was pulled up to cover your nose. God, you look adorable. Your eyes creased in the corners as you laughed under the cover, then pulled it away for him to settle in next to you.

Pedro laid on his back, lifting his arm for you to snuggle into him. Sighing happily, you lay your head on his broad chest and lace a leg over his hips, the steady thump of his heartbeat and the warmth of his body soothing you instantly. "I love you." You tipped your head up to kiss him softly on his lips. "I love you too," he purred, tightening his arms around you. It didn't take you more than ten minutes to drop off, judging by your slow breaths. Pedro, on the other hand, stayed awake long after you'd dropped off, just relishing the feeling of holding you in his arms. He feels sick to his stomach when he thinks about how close he came to losing you tonight, and all because of a misunderstanding.

He thinks of the ring he's been carrying around, how he almost lost the opportunity to give it to you. Well, he won't wait any longer. If tonight has taught him anything, it's that nothing is guaranteed in life and, even though he never once doubted you'd say yes, just your devastated reaction to believing you'd lost him proves that you love and need him as much as he does you. Tomorrow he'll ask you; He'll wine and dine you at your favourite restaurant, take you on a stroll along the beach and then, he'll get down on one knee and invite you to share the rest of your life with him.

@greenwitchfromthewoods @picketniffler @liciafonseca @misscornelia13 @missadangel @southernbe

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fanfic #pedrohub #pedrito #pedro pascal fic

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retromaccaroni · 10 months ago

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No matter what, you keep finding something to fight for.

prints: x

#pedro is babgirl #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanart #joel miller #tlou #the last of us fanart #the last of us #pedrito #retromaccaroni

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bweeeb · 27 days ago

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SWEETNESS

PEDRO PASCAL × READER

Summary: After an interview, the casua thing between you and Pedro ends up making the public suspect that he is not denying someone who is twenty-three years old.

warnings: nothing major, very cute, age difference but both are adults (obviously), bad writing maybe. Enjoy.

— So, according to the recordings, I think we all saw how close you two have become. How has that been?

You and Pedro smiled at the woman, who seemed to be around 35, interviewing you both.

The curiosity in her eyes was obvious.

— I think it’s been time well spent.

Pedro said, laughing and glancing at you, who was already laughing even before speaking.

— I think our characters demanded a connection of...

— Hatred and anger.

Pedro interrupted you, and you laughed loudly.

— Yes. That’s why I’ve been spending the past few months figuring out which tool is best for channeling hatred towards someone.

— Our makeup team has been covering up all the damage we’ve been doing to each other.

Pedro added, and your extravagant laughter made him laugh as well. You two really were doing some damage to each other, but that was your little secret.

— You can clearly see you can’t stand being around each other.

— No, we can’t.

You said with a smile, waiting for the next questio

— And the movie tackles a delicate theme about relationships and age gaps. What made you both accept such controversial roles? Especially you, Pedro...I’m sure you’ve broken all the minds of 20-something girls with this film.

— He definitely has.

— I don’t know what it is with you all nowadays, thinking an old guy like me is attractive. The conversation shifted back to you and Pedro, and the interviewer smiled with amusement. The chemistry between you two was undeniable, even more than you realized.

— Because you’re a man, you give off the feeling of being a man but don’t have to prove it. You know what I mean? You understand me?

You asked the interviewer, who nodded, agreeing that it was indeed a big difference.

— Of course, I’m a man, but an old one.

— Shut up and answer the question.

You said, laughing, as Pedro gave you a mock-offended look in his usual dramatic way.

— Honestly, I wasn’t going to take the role. When I got the audition, I just said, "Nope." But a lot of people kept telling me I’d be the perfect Nick for the book adaptation, and I hate disappointing my fans.

— So you still wouldn’t date someone in their twenties? Maybe?

— No.

Pedro quickly denied it, and you wanted to roll your eyes but didn’t.

— And you, darling?

Nice deflection, you thought, almost laughing at him.

— Ahm, I gave it a lot of thought, especially about the nude scenes I was informed of before accepting the role. I didn’t want to freak out my family. But once I learned more about the characters, I discovered the adaptation was from a book I love, so I couldn’t say no.

— That’s amazing. I heard you even got a real piercing for one of the scenes in the movie. Are you wearing it now?

The question was directed at you, and you smiled painfully, moving your hair away to reveal the piercings you got during filming.

— I added thirds and a helix. Yep, these guys are fine. — You pointed at the piercings farthest from the cartilage. — But I’ll be honest, this one is hurting a lot right now. I was even going to ask if someone could help me after this because it didn’t hurt this much when I got it done.

You laughed, and both the interviewer and Pedro looked at you with concern. Pedro leaned closer, moving your hair from your neck.

— Oh, crap, darling, it’s swollen. You need to take care of this. — He said in such a calm voice that even if the interview ended right then, the audience would already be glued to the screen. — Do you want to stop?

— I’m fine, thank you.

Without even realizing it, you brushed your thumb against Pedro’s wrist, where his hand rested on your neck to examine you.

Later, the interview was posted, and you almost laughed at how fast the channel edited it. Your ear was still throbbing like it was being pierced again, and lying on the couch, you felt like crying—not because it hurt that much, but because you hated the feeling of discomfort in your body.

— Darling?

You heard Pedro call you and looked over the back of the couch to see him smiling at you.

— Now I’ve finally wrapped everything up. No calls. Ugh. — He flopped onto the couch, and noticing your silence, he looked at you oddly. — What’s wrong?

— Nothing.

You denied it, not wanting to worry him.

— Look at me and say that.

He raised an eyebrow and laughed, sitting cross-legged on the couch.

— Nothing.

— Come on, baby, your ear is hurting, isn’t it?

You murmured your agreement. He then places a hand on your neck and places a kiss on your lips, you move closer, deepening the kiss until he pulls you into his chest, on the side that didn’t hurt.

— I’m sorry about this.

— It’s not your fault.

— No, but you seem exhausted by the pain, and I’m sorry for that.

— Thank you. Have you seen what everyone’s saying?

— I haven’t.

— You’re a terrible liar. They’re calling you a liar. You laughed, feeling comforted in his embrace.

— Me? A liar? Yo nunca mentiría.

— You’re a liar and ridiculously hot when you speak Spanish. “Oh, I’d never date anyone in their twenties,” and two seconds later, “And you, darling?”

— What’s wrong with that?

— Friends don’t call friends “darling.” Like, we’re friends who hook up, but you get my point.

You thought for a second and worried you’d sounded over the top in the classification you seemed to be giving you two.

— You’ve been the most argumentative exception I’ve ever made.

He said, and you nodded in agreement.

— I hope I am. I’d hate to find out another young woman took my spot as a legend.

— Legend for what?

— For being the youngest person in the world to hook up with the ridiculously hot Pedro Pascal. You said, and he laughed loudly. You didn’t know how far this would go, but you intended to enjoy the sweetness of that man for as long as it lasted

÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷÷

I hope everybody enjoy this.

Requests are opened!

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x ofc #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x you #fanfic #pedro pascal fanart #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedrito #cute #pedro pascal fic

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softiepedrito · 4 months ago

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Don't look at me like that...

#MY PRETTY BROWN EYES MAN #my man my man my man #pedro pascal #pascalispunk #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedrito #pedro pascal fanfic

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lola-writes · 2 months ago

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𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐄 𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐈 ║ I. Adonis ║ Marcus Acacius x Hanno's sister!reader

➣ Deliciae Imperii -> Delights of the Empire

➣ Masterlist | Add yourself to my taglist | Ao3 | Ko-Fi

➣ Chapter II. | Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2,9k

Synopsis: As an esteemed warrior of the Numidian army, your world turns on its axis when you’re taken prisoner by the Romans. Ever since your stealth attack that nearly cost the General of the Roman army, Marcus Acacius, his life, he appears to have taken a special interest in you. Under his tutelage of swordplay and carnal things, you delve deeper into the heart of the Roman Empire, uncovering its instability, and Acacius’ true intentions with you…

Chapter Themes & Warnings: POV first person, use of y/n, blood, detailed descriptions of violence, terms of endearment (anaticula, Adonis), slavery, Roman history, vomiting, angst, swearing. See series masterlist for full themes & warnings!

Song: Fight for Survival – Klergy

a/n: The original plan was for this to be a oneshot, but in the end it seemed impossible. I've got a lot planned for this story. Hope you stay tuned! 🥰

Anaticula (duckling), Adonis (god of beauty and desire)

Poem by @fairytalesques

Enjoy the read!

Likes, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

I am a rose unfurling, winter’s bloom. Poison dripping down my throat and out of my bladed fingers. I spin stars into black holes, drive monsters to extinction in the dead heat of summer. You ever stop to think what life could have been if the poison had been potent? A lifeline in the carnage. A blessing or a curse? The flower is now festering like a disease but with Adonis I’ll be safe, he keeps the antidote.

The metallic tang of blood, thick and cloying, hung heavy in the humid air, a shroud of death as thick as smoke. It was a symphony of war, conducted by the piercing shrieks of the wounded and the barked commands of the officers. A cacophony that blurred my senses as I moved with deadly precision through a haze of silver and red.

I fought with the savage efficiency of a wild animal, yet my kills were clean and quiet, each motion honed by years of training under Hanno's tutelage. My vision tunneled to a singular, deadly focus – the annhilation of the Roman usurpers by any means necessary. In this moment, I was a force of nature, an instrument of retribution. I would purge the land of their corrupted touch if I were to die trying.

The enemy pressed on, a relentless tide. For every ten I felled, another twenty rose to take their place. Yet somehow, the more I fought, the stronger I became, as though the adrenaline that infiltrated my every tissue contained a potent elixir that invigorated my muscles and dulled their exertion.

Clashing blades rang in the air. Our two armies mingled near indistinguishably; clanging, crunshing and screaming. It would be difficult to tell friend from foe, if it weren’t for the Romans distinctive galeas, the red fur frilling atop the silver helms like beckoning targets.

Just then, the crowd parted like clouds from the sun, unveiling a figure descending the battlement steps, a silhouette of lethal grace. Donning a sable breast plate emblazoned by Sol, sprawling across his chest with a douzen golden rays, he moved with the effortless grace of a dancer, his blade a blur of silver death, his countenance molded into a rigid canvas of authority. A retinue of red fringed galeas encircled him, their bodies his shields, their presence a testament to his rank.

My gaze fixed him through the crowd as the next wave of men in their peculiar-looking helmets came charging at me. I ducked, slicing open the patellas of the first two, making them buckle in the sand. The third I dodged, sidestepping before plunging my blade into his brachial plexus. The fourth I parried, our blades screeching in unison, before I kicked under his flared skirt. There wasn’t much fight left in him after that.

Jubartha’s words echoed in my mind as I tracked the approaching entourage, “Take out the leader of your enemy, and it matters not how much blood stains your sword.”

He moved fluidly like a windless sea. His spatha whipped around him, trailing shadows in the dust-ridden air, splattering the sand with blood. His expression was a paradox. As though he would not rest until Rome had pocketed another conquest, while simultaneously longing for a different fate entirely.

Crimson trailed around him like crushed punica granatum. None breached the shield of bodies surrounding him, and those who tried did not emerge alive, like prey entering a lion’s den.

I caught a glimpse of Hanno and Jubartha atop the parapet, fending off the ruthless wave from the assaulting sea. The walls had been breached, our numbers were dwindling. A sense of desperation seized me, a reckless courage driving me forward.

There was but one choice at my disposal.

I sprinted up the steps of the opposite parapet, scaling the heights with desperate urgency. Ducking behind a wooden pole, I dashed across the platform until I reached its bosom. I leaned out over its edifice, where down below, a second protective roof had been built. I started the climb downward, the splintering wood tearing at my hands like an angry cat. I landed on the roof with a thud and crouched towards the edge. Our men were still charging through the opening of the parapet, but before I knew it, they began to slow, getting knocked back by the shield wall of fearsome Roman guards. I rose to my feet, my heart pounding in my ears, adrenaline surging through my bloodstream. My hand found the hilt of my sword and clasped it into place. For what I was about to do, risking becoming unarmed was to invite my doom.

The chaotic shadowy flare of guards flanking the steady shadow of an unyielding assassin grew in the sand below. I filled my lungs, washing out the biting fear of death creeping around the edges.

A warrior’s oath echoed in my mind: I am Numidia.

I dipped, toes to the edge. A head of dark and silver emerged below.

What could go wrong?

I leapt.

The fall felt decelerated, as if in a dream, and all surrounding noise faded underwater. My feet met his back, and a heavy grunt of startlement escaped him as he fell forward. His body broke my fall, and I rolled with the force of the impact, swiftly regaining my footing as I turned to face him. Dazed for but a second, his face dusted with sand, he grappled for his sword. But before he managed to get a proper grasp of the hilt, I pressed my boot atop his knuckles. He groaned in frustration behind gritted teeth. The next second, my one hand had clasped the knife from my boot, while the other had gathered a fistful of his hair and snatched him backward.

In the third second, my blade was poised at his throat, ready to claim his life when, for reasons unexplained, the edge paused in his skin.

In the fourth second, I had met his eyes, and an unfamilliar current passed down my spine. They were big, and brown, and full of contradictions, staring up at me with equal surprise, malice, and admiration. But no fear. His chest was heaving. His hair was a full, tangled mess of black and silver beneath my fingers, textured from the unsettled sand. The strands of silver had leaked into his beard which covered his dark, dirt-and blood-spattered complexion. His nose was sharp, angled like the limb of a bow, and his lips were slightly parted from gnashed teeth. The wound I had inflicted seemed to defy the vision of him I had before me, bleeding red but ichor.

In the fifth second his resistance faltered, his head growing heavy against me. But before I could savour my victory, a sharp blow clattered my teeth, and suddenly my body was not my own. My vision blurred, my ears buzzed, and my fingers loosened the grip of the knife, no matter how hard I fought against it.

In the sixth second, I was laying in the sand, grasping for consciousness. I thought I could hear Hanno screaming in the distance, but it was just beneath the surface. Gathering the last ounces of strength I had left I reached for the blade laying inches away. The contours of Adonis hovered over me, as one of the guards kicked my weapon out of reach. My other hand dragged itself to my waist, half-limb, seeking to undo the clasp to my sword.

“Tsk tsk tsk...” Adonis clicked his tongue. I winced as his boot came down on my hand, pressing down. “You have some fight in you, anaticula,” his voice, laced with what I would percieve as… concern, circulated around my head like a distant echo. “Grab her.” The words consumed me, nuzzling my cognisance like a warm blanket, and as I lifted off the ground, I faded into oblivion.

Vae victis. Woe to the vanquished.

The declaration travelled with me between the realms of my unconsciousness, followed by the distant wails of bereaved mothers, fathers, brothers, and sisters.

I awoke to the comforting crackle of the fire we used to cook our supper. The air was thick with the scent of fresh fish, and the vague neigh of my stallion drifted in from outside. I sighed, nuzzling my face into the pillow, and was captivated by the unfamiliar softness of it. Something was different. The ground beneath me seemed to shift and sway, and as I opened my eyes, the pillow under my cheek was foreign to me – vibrant with patterns winding around the fabric like climbing vines.

Reality slowly dawned. I was not home. And the crackle of the fire and the neighing from my stallion was in fact the creaking and squeaking of ship timbers.

I groaned as a sharp pain lanced through my skull. Everything came back to me. The Roman invasion. The battle. The blow to the head. Adonis …

My breath stilled when I met his gaze across the room. Clad in the same sable armor and a royal scarlet cape, he was seated at the head of a table bedecked in plates of fish, cheese, fruit and caraffes of wine. He held my stare with a distant look of interest, rolling a purple grape between his fingers before plopping it into his mouth, his jaw clenching and unclenching.

The throbbing pain pulsed in my temple in tune with my heart as I sat up on the setee. Sludge stuck to my thoughts and it felt as though my center of gravity was off the way the room kept rocking.

“Easy,” came his voice, a low rumble. His chewing ceased, his movements stilled, as if ready to rise in haste.

The ship’s rhythmic rocking intensified, the sound of waves lapping against the hull growing louder. A cold sweat broke out on my brow. My breathing surged and grew ragged, trying to subdue the rolling sense of nausea consuming me.

But it was futile.

With a violent shudder, I retched, the contents of my stomach emptying onto the wooden planks.

I stared blankly at my mess, a strange blend of satisfaction and shame washing over me. Relishing at the thought of having defiled the ship of the Roman usurpers, I was humbled by doing so in front of the man who I failed to kill. My guts were ready to spill again at the very thought.

His chair creaked against the floor as he rose. I only saw his legs as he approached, dropping to his haunches in front of me – in my vomit, and I recoiled, equally to his sudden advance as to the indignity of it. He moved with intent, the scarlet cape pooled around him, and I could not help but feel intimidated. It was like he didn’t know what he was standing in. Or rather, didn’t care. Furthermore, based off his attire alone, he was too high in station to be on his knees for a commoner like me. Even less, kneeling in a commoner’s bodily fluid.

He was so cool and calculated, from how he moved to how his gaze settled on mine, though something alive played in his dark brown eyes. Something that could snap at any second. His complexion was still riddled with dried dirt and blood from the battle, and the cut in his neck had leaked down his throat like spilt ink.

I knew not if it was the sudden uprising of nerves, his closeness, or a result of the blow to my head, but the words slipped past my lips without thought. “You’re a truly terrible commander.” I dried the dribble off my chin with the back of my hand.

A furrow etched between his brows and genuine concern flickered in his eyes, like he was contemplating whether it might be true. “I conquered your city,” he parried.

“I nearly killed you,” I retorted.

A hint of malice clouded his features. “Nearly.” His tone of voice gathered timber; that the word came off as a threat.

He stared at me. The urge to look away was so strong it itched beneath my skin. He expected me to. Though something foreign and astute made me persevere. Holding eye contact with him felt like a deadly game. But it also evoked a whisper of adrenaline, as warm as spiced wine.

Finally, his eyes drifted downward to the pool of vomit at his feet. “I’ll have someone clean this up,” he said, before leaning forward and putting his arms around me.

Adrenaline shot through me like a violent storm, and I pushed him away instinctively. His face was a mask of indifference, and he reached for me again, and this time he didn’t let go, no matter how hard I fought him. He carried me up off the settee as I kicked, squealed, grunted and clawed. My mind raced with the thoughts of what he might do to me. His breast plate was ice cold against my skin, but I was too frantic to notice. I came to my senses once he dropped me down in a chair next to the table. He glared at me, clearly unimpressed by my defiance, before grabbing a plate off the table, methodically filling it with a chaotic assortment.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, breaking off a twig of grapes as a final touch before serving it to me, rounding the table to seat himself.

I simply gaped at him, too bewildered to respond. My chest heaved from exertion, my tense body clutching onto the wood of the chair, trembling slightly from the waning adrenaline spike.

“You need not fear me, anaticula,” he soothed. His voice was a strange blend of velvet and steel, a combination I believed to be uniquely his; calming and unsettling me in equal measure. And despite the ingrained hatred I harbored towards his people, an inexplicable, vexing trust for him began to bloom within me.

“I am General Marcus Acacius,” he boomed, as though I would have trouble hearing him from across the table. Where he came from, I’d wager men stood to attention at the mere mention of him, but I remained indifferent. Belittling him was all the power I had.

His name grew heavy in the air, silence stretching. I’d expected him to explain my fate next. That I would be sold as a slave for men to plunder as they wished, or perhaps executed for having his life at my disposal. Perhaps he’d do it himself.

“What do I call you?” he asked finally.

“Whyever does that matter?” I snapped.

“Is it so strange to wish to know the name of the woman who nearly killed me?” His voice dipped at the very mention of it.

“I’ll be dead soon enough,” I said with feigned indifference. Acacius stiffened, watching me carefully. “Or if you do not kill me, I’d kill myself before I ever become a slave.” I watched him relax slightly and continue his meal.

“That’s not going to happen,” he muttered inbetween chews.

My gut flared with anticipation, “Which part?” I demanded.

He looked up at me. “What’s your name?” he asked, deliberately ignoring my question.

“Y/N,” I replied, my voice barely a whisper.

He repeated my name, the sound rolling off his tongue like honey while he fixed me with his eyes dark like amber. I grew strangely warm and restless, and a sudden urge to flee seized me, a wild beast gnawing at my nerves.

“Where is my brother?” I blurted out, rather raggedly, a note of desperation creeping in, but as I did, I recalled I had not seen Hanno since the start of the battle. Was he even alive?

“Your brother?” he asked, like the notion I’d have a family was aberrant to him, a fleeting spark of uncertainty passing through his eyes. He swallowed sharply, picking at the salted fish on his plate. “With the other prisoners,” he muttered.

“So,” I began, molding myself out of the rigid posture I had assumed, and leaned forward. “Why am I here?” I asked, casting a disapproving look around his opulent cabin.

He stopped and fixed me with a gaze ice-cold. “For safe keeping,” he said sternly. “You nearly killed me today, Y/N. I wouldn’t want to find out what else you’re capable of.”

Vague images flickered before my eyes – chaos, then darkness. “You talk as if it’s some big feat,” I scoffed.

His eyes, twin pools of lethal venom, bored into me. “I assure you,” he hissed, resting his bracers against the edge of the table, a hint of admonition lingering in his voice, “It is.”

My face heated at the thought of having impressed him, but the word ‘nearly’ was a nettlesome creature.

“I should have killed you when I had the chance,” I said, the words bitter on my tongue.

Acacius cocked his brows in recognition and poured wine. “Why didn’t you?” he asked, raising the cup to his lips.

The question caught me off guard, and a bitter taste filled my mouth. I recalled myself hesitating. I had the blade at his throat. I could have ended the battle there and then, declared Numidia victorious against the power of Rome. But I couldn’t do it.

“I-,” I don’t know, I thought.

A sharp knock on the door shattered the silence, and a sentry entered the room, bowing slightly. “General Acacius,” he spoke, his voice laced with duty and reverence. “Rome awaits.”

Chapter II. | Series Masterlist | Chapter III

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andy-15-07 · 14 days ago

Text

Say Yes to Forever

PAIRING:Pedro Pascal x reader

WORD COUNT: 1697| requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

Warning: smut.

The restaurant hummed with quiet elegance, the dim candlelight flickering against the polished wood of the intimate booth Pedro had reserved. A soft jazz tune played in the background, mingling with the quiet murmur of other diners, but for Pedro, the world had shrunk down to the woman sitting across from him. Y/N. Seven years together, and still, looking at her made his heart stutter like it had the first time.

She was laughing softly at something he had said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The warmth of her gaze, the ease in the way she leaned toward him—it all felt like home. Pedro curled his fingers around his glass of wine, hiding the slight tremor in his hands. He had played warriors, kings, lovers, and villains, but nothing had ever made him as nervous as the tiny velvet box tucked inside his jacket pocket.

“You’re being weird,” Y/N said suddenly, narrowing her eyes at him with an amused smile. “You keep staring at me like I’m about to disappear.”

Pedro let out a soft chuckle, tilting his head as he considered her. “Can’t a man admire his beautiful girlfriend?”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t quite hide the pleased flush creeping up her neck. “That’s not admiration, that��s—” She squinted at him playfully. “That’s plotting. What’s going on, Pascal?”

Damn, she knew him too well.

He cleared his throat, trying to play it off. “Maybe I just want to soak in the moment. Seven years, cariño.” His voice softened. “Do you remember our first date?”

Y/N’s expression shifted into something more tender, her eyes glimmering in the candlelight. “Of course I do. You were late.”

Pedro groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Are you ever going to let that go?”

“Nope.” She grinned. “You were twenty minutes late, and I was convinced you had ghosted me.”

“I was filming, and you know it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she teased, lifting her wine glass to take a sip. “But then you showed up, all flustered and apologetic, and I decided to give you a chance.”

He smirked. “Lucky me.”

She reached across the table, lacing her fingers with his. “Yeah. Lucky us.”

Pedro felt his throat tighten. Seven years of stolen mornings, late-night conversations, endless laughter, and the kind of love that made him believe in forever. And tonight, he was going to ask her for exactly that.

His hand brushed against the ring box in his pocket, his pulse kicking up a notch.

It was time.

He took a steadying breath and smiled at her, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "You know, I still can't believe you said yes to that second date."

Y/N chuckled, squeezing his hand. "You were persistent. And charming. And maybe a little bit of a mess."

"A little?" Pedro laughed, shaking his head. "I was a total mess. But you stuck around."

"Of course I did," she murmured, tilting her head. "You're my person, Pedro."

His heart swelled. "And you're mine."

The waiter approached with their dessert, a beautifully plated chocolate soufflé, but Pedro barely noticed. His focus was on her, on the love shining in her eyes. He inhaled deeply, shifting in his seat.

"Actually, there's something I've been meaning to ask you," he started, his voice thick with emotion. His fingers slid into his pocket, closing around the velvet box. "Something really important."

Y/N arched a brow, setting her fork down. "Oh?"

Pedro exhaled a shaky breath and slowly pulled out the box, placing it between them on the table. The world seemed to still around them, everything fading except for the two of them and the moment that had been seven years in the making.

Her eyes widened, her lips parting slightly. "Pedro..."

He pushed the box toward her, then slid off his seat and onto one knee, right there in the middle of the restaurant. A hush fell over the surrounding tables, but Pedro only saw her.

"Y/N," he began, his voice raw with emotion. "For seven years, you've been my best friend, my safe place, my greatest love. I can't imagine my life without you. I don't want to imagine it."

Tears welled in her eyes, a soft, disbelieving laugh escaping her lips.

He flipped open the box, revealing the delicate ring he'd spent months choosing, making sure it was perfect for her. "Marry me, cariño?"

For a moment, she was utterly still. Then, a radiant smile broke across her face, tears slipping down her cheeks. She let out a shaky laugh, nodding fervently. "Yes! Yes, Pedro, of course!"

The restaurant erupted in quiet applause, but Pedro barely heard it. He slid the ring onto her finger, hands trembling, before pulling her into his arms. Their lips met in a kiss, warm and full of promise, sealing the moment forever.

As they pulled away, Y/N cupped his face, eyes shining. "I love you, Pedro."

He grinned, pressing his forehead against hers. "I love you more. Always."

The drive home was quiet, filled with lingering glances and intertwined fingers resting on Pedro’s lap. The streetlights painted golden streaks across Y/N’s skin, her engagement ring catching the glow every time she moved. He kept sneaking looks at her, grinning like a fool, his heart impossibly full.

As soon as they stepped into their home, Pedro reached for her, pulling her close. Music played softly from a speaker in the corner, something slow and familiar. He didn’t say a word, just took her hand and led her into the living room, swaying with her in the dim light.

Y/N rested her head against his chest, her arms wrapping around his shoulders. “You’re really romantic when you want to be,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion.

Pedro chuckled, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Only for you.”

They danced like that for a while, lost in each other. Every touch, every breath, every whispered ‘I love you’ was a promise of forever. And when he finally lifted her into his arms, carrying her upstairs, the night took on a different kind of tenderness.

In their bedroom, under the soft glow of the bedside lamp, Pedro traced his fingers along her skin, memorizing every inch of her. There was no rush, only devotion in the way he touched her, kissed her, loved her. He unbuttoned her dress slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. The fabric whispered to the floor, revealing her delicate lace bra. He paused, his breath catching in his throat, and gently unclasped it. Y/N reached up and unbuttoned his shirt, her fingers tracing the line of his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath his skin.

He pulled her close, their bodies flush against each other. His lips found hers in a slow, lingering kiss that deepened with every passing moment, a silent conversation of love and desire. He moved his hand down her back, cupping her bottom and pulling her closer still, their bodies molding together. She moaned softly against his lips, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. He lifted her onto the bed, following her down, his gaze never breaking hers. He kissed her neck, his breath warm against her skin, then moved lower, his lips tracing a path down her chest, igniting a fire within her. She arched into him, meeting his gaze with a look of pure desire.

Pedro took his time, savoring every inch of her as if he were memorizing her all over again. His lips ghosted over her collarbone, down the valley between her breasts, before he took one hardened peak into his mouth, his tongue circling, teasing. She gasped, her back arching as his hands roamed lower, gripping her thighs, pulling them apart as he settled between them. His kisses grew more fervent, more insistent as he traced a path lower, his mouth exploring her in ways that made her whimper, her fingers digging into the sheets.

“You taste so sweet,” he murmured against her skin, his voice husky. “I could stay here all night, making you fall apart over and over again.”

She moaned, her breath shaky. “Pedro… please.”

He smirked against her thigh, his fingers teasing her, making her hips lift instinctively. “Tell me what you want, querida.”

“I want you,” she gasped. “Inside me. Now.”

He moved back up, kissing her deeply, letting her taste herself on his lips. “You want me to fill you up?” he whispered against her mouth, his hands gripping her thighs, pressing her into the mattress. “You want me to fuck you so good you won’t be able to think straight?”

“Yes,” she moaned, her nails raking down his back. “I need you, Pedro.”

“You have me,” he growled, lining himself up with her. “Always.”

He entered her slowly, savoring the moment, their eyes locked, a silent exchange of love and longing. She gasped, her nails digging into his back, her legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper. He began to move, slowly at first, then faster, their bodies moving together in a rhythm as old as time, a dance of passion and surrender. Moans filled the room, mingling with the soft music playing in the background, a symphony of desire. He kissed her deeply, his hand stroking her hair, his touch both tender and demanding.

“God, you feel so good,” he groaned, his pace quickening, pushing deeper, hitting all the right places. “So perfect for me.”

She cried out, her hands gripping his shoulders. “Harder, Pedro.”

His jaw clenched, his movements becoming rougher, more desperate, chasing both of their highs. “You’re mine, baby,” he gritted out. “All mine.”

“Yes,” she gasped, her body arching as pleasure overwhelmed her. “Yours.”

The sensations intensified, wave after wave washing over them, building to a crescendo, a moment of pure ecstasy, a shared release. He held her tightly as they both shattered, clinging to each other, their breaths mingling in the quiet aftermath.

When they finally lay tangled together, breathless and content, the silence was filled with unspoken words, with the weight of their love and commitment. Pedro kissed her bare shoulder, whispering, “Forever.”

Y/N smiled sleepily, pressing a kiss to his chest. “Forever.”

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