#joel miller x f!reader masterlist

[theetherealbloom]

PEDRO PASCAL MAIN MASTERLIST

PEDRO PASCAL

JOEL MILLER

DIN DJARIN

OBERYN MARTELL

MARCUS ACACIUS

REED RICHARDS/ "MR FANTASTIC" (coming soon!)

TIM ROCKFORD

© etherealbloom - all rights reserved. please do not modify, repost, or translate any of my original work. none of my work is permitted to be reposted on any other platform.

[wintrwinchestr]

strangers masterlist

pairing: dark!serial killer!joel x f!reader

summary: after you run away from home, you meet a handsome stranger who offers you a ride, a meal, and a bed. but you know what they say—don’t talk to strangers, or you might fall in love. and this particular stranger has a very dark secret, one you might not be able to escape the consequences of discovering.

overall warnings (please also see individual chapter warnings): 18+, smut, DDDNE, age gap (reader is college-aged, joel is mid-50s), no outbreak au, no use of y/n, graphic talk of death/murder and blood, mommy & daddy issues, brief talk of domestic violence, lying, gaslighting, coercion, manipulation, f-receiving non-con groping/breathplay/fingering/sex, being held captive, degrading language toward victims/victim blaming, joel is implied to fantasize that you're dead while fucking you, development of stockholm syndrome, pet names (baby, darlin', sweetheart, babydoll, etc), some joel pov, no ellie/sarah but tommy has an unnamed daughter, somewhat inspired by "preacher's daughter" by ethel cain, vaguely set in the 70s/80s

read it on ao3

part 1

part 2

suffer does the wolf (a strangers oneshot)

part 3

[ladybirdswritings]

SWEET THING, DBF — joel miller x reader.

DESCRIPTION: your life is a storm—an overbearing father, a shitty boyfriend, and the ache of growing up. everything becomes more tangled when you find yourself drawn to your father’s best friend, joel. NOTES - finally, part two. leave me all your thoughts and opinions. i love them <33 | prev part ; next part

two;

“Put your seatbelt on, Y/N.”

His voice was gruff—tired from overuse, nearly ready to silence entirely. A rich, southern rasp that sent chills down anyone’s spine, yours included. You obeyed without hesitation.

“Thank you for this…” was all you managed in a whisper while locking the metal into place—trapped.

You didn’t know your daddy’s friend too well, but you knew enough. Most people avoided him, whether it was the constant scowl etched on his face or those dark eyes that seemed to scream threats his quiet mouth never voiced. Everything about him made people stiffen, their bodies rigid as old boards.

He only hummed, his eyes fixed on the road, his jaw ticking as he navigated toward the party nearby.

“A left here,” you offered, leaning forward and pointing just past his line of sight.

When he breathed, the scent of honey and jasmine flowers on your skin clung to the air between you. His jaw locked tighter.

You knew you looked every bit the spoiled, overprotected little princess your daddy raised you to be. Skipping Jackson’s town dance to attend some trashy house party hosted by your boyfriend wasn’t exactly subtle rebellion, but you didn’t care.

Where your father insisted on preserving the innocence of your youth, you argued you’d only get to be young once. Only get to date questionable men, drink questionable drinks, and laugh about it later one time in your whole life.

Naive? Sure. But you didn’t know that.

Joel didn’t wait for you to notice he’d parked before snaking a firm arm across the console. His calloused fingers brushed the hem of your denim-clad thigh. Your heart stuttered, your eyes widening as his glare burned into you.

So close.

And then, the seatbelt clicked.

You exhaled shakily, a smile tugging at your lips as you reached for the door. But before you could escape, his rough fingers caught your chin, tugging your face back until you were forced to meet his eyes.

Dark, chocolate eyes.

“You’re real lucky tonight, sweetpea. Now don’t go in there and make me look like a fool to yer’ daddy. You drink responsibly, and you don’t touch a blunt in sight—understand?”

You gulped, cheeks burning tomato red. Wide-eyed and frozen, you nodded. You were nothing more than a fish caught in the hands of a cold fisherman, your pretty face cradled between his calloused palms.

“What, you think I’m stupid? Think I don’t know what’s gonna go on the second you walk that purtie lil’ ass inside?”

His voice was sharp, and you stammered, blinking up at him as your breath hitched. He knew. Of course, he knew. He was young once, too.

“I’ll be responsible, Mr. Miller—sir,” you lied through your teeth, the sweetness in your voice a thin disguise.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, and a deep, gravelly laugh escaped him.

“Oh, sure you will, sweetpea.”

Satisfied he’d issued a proper warning, he released you. But before you could scramble away, he added, “Go on and behave, and I might just convince your daddy to let you live a little more often.”

Hope bloomed in your chest like wisteria tangling with your rapid heart. If Joel vouched for you, maybe daddy would ease up.

A plan solidified in your head. All you had to do was be good.

You could do that! Easy, just be good.

Step one? Sweeten him up.

“You’re a peach, Mr. Miller,” you chirped, leaning forward to press a kiss to his stubbled cheek.

You lingered a moment longer than you should have.

Where Jesse smelled of beer, snow, and fresh spices, Joel smelled of whiskey, cedar, and leather. Of hard work and blood-stained hands.

Joel noticed the pause, and slowly, his head turned. Just an inch closer, and his lips could press right against yours.

The thought made your eyes widen.

What was wrong with you? He was doing you a favor, and here you were imagining how his scowling lips might feel against yours. How his tongue—experienced, confident—might tease the roof of your mouth, trail down your neck…

He peered at you through bourbon lashes.

“That business doesn’t work on me, sweetpea…” he started, freeing a hand so to tuck a stray ringlet of your untamed waves behind your ear. You inhaled sharply.

“You gon’ be good?” His voice was low, a tickling whisper that sent warmth flooding through your body.

“I am,” you promised, your teeth betraying the truth behind your pretty smile.

He nodded once. “Go on, then. I’ll be parked out front. Holler if you need me.”

His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel as you slipped out, your heart racing with every intrusive thought lingering in your head.

Maybe you were ovulating. Or maybe you were a basket case.

You shook your head. Jesse. Jesse. Jesse. Your boyfriend—Jesse.

With that, you slammed the Chevy door and hurried toward the party.

•••

Big. Fucking. Mistake.

As soon as the scent of weed and tequila hit your senses, you grinned. A tiny buzz wouldn’t be too hard to hide from Joel.

One shot here. Another there. You inched closer to Jesse, ready to surprise him.

And you did.

“Y/N!”

There he was, wide-eyed and guilty, his lips swollen from Abby’s kiss.

Tight, toned Abby.

They were tucked in a corner, her lips lazily trailing his throat. The sight made your knees wobble. When Jesse saw you, he jerked away, but the damage was done.

Abby’s hands shot up as though she were innocent, and it took all your strength not to lunge for the bitch.

“Baby—” Jesse started, but your throat tightened, hot tears threatening to spill.

You remembered how he admired your strength back in high school. When you were nerdy and unimportant — only glanced at after the tragic death of your mother. Everyone else pitied you. Jesse was different. He’d whispered sweet words to you after your mother passed, he’d made you less… stuck-up; convinced you that tequila could numb the pain. God, it did.

“Y’know, you’re a real tough girl to show up every day with your head high after everything that’s happened…”

“Sip this— baby. all those thoughts about your mom will go away…” he’d whispered once, tipping vodka onto your tongue. He had lost his mom, too. He knew how to stop the agony.

And now? He was the one causing it.

“Fuck you, Jesse. We’re done,” you snapped, your voice cracking despite your best efforts to sound strong.

You turned to leave, but Abby’s smug voice stopped you cold.

“Don’t know why you’re so pressed, princess. I dig chicks too. You could’ve joined us.”

You saw red.

Before you knew it, your ringed fist collided with her chiseled jaw.

Gasps echoed as she stumbled back into the crowd, her wide eyes meeting yours. Jesse grabbed your wrists, but you yanked them free.

“Stay the fuck away from me!”

And just like that, you stormed out, leaving the crowd and your dignity behind.

This wasn’t how your night was supposed to go.

But instead of sulking to Joel’s truck, you vowed to drown your sorrows in tequila until the world stopped spinning.

Oh yeah, that’s exactly what you intended to do.

[aurorawritestoescape]

A STEP INTO HELL MASTERLIST

Stepdad!Joel Miller x f!reader

Series summary: after you move into his house, Joel finds himself possessed by the idea of having you. Trying to quench his lustful thirst he decides to get his hands on your nudes. To his surprise he finds something even better.

Series warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, step-cest, Joel's pov, dub con but reader's into it, legal age gap (reader is in college), dark!Joel, perv!Joel, obsessed! joel, darkish!reader, unprotected piv/dvp, sex toy usage, blackmail, sex audio recording, creampie, premature ejaculation, rough sex, degradation, slutshaming, praise kink, daddy kink, f/m masturbation/oral, mention of food play/anal, slapping, cum eating, swearing.

🔥A STEP INTO HELL || 3k

🔥A HELL OF A MORNING || 4,2k

🔥HALLOWEEN NIGHT || 500 words

This is more of a smutty collection of stories rather than a series. If you have any thots about these two, send an ask and I might get inspired to write more<3

MAIN MASTERLIST

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

[andy-15-07]

Reunion of love

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x female reader Word Count: 1335 warnings: a little smut Pedro Pascal Masterlist

The night was calm, a rare blessing amidst the chaos of war. The air carried the gentle hum of cicadas and the faint, fragrant aroma of blooming jasmine. The garden, bathed in moonlight, glowed with an ethereal radiance. Amidst the neatly trimmed hedges and the scattered marble statues, Y/N lingered in quiet contemplation, her thoughts a mix of longing and relief.

General Marcus Acacius, her husband, had been away for months, leading the legions of Rome in battle. News of his victories had reached her weeks ago, yet the uncertainty of war always lingered in her heart. Tonight, however, there was a strange anticipation in the air, a tug in her spirit that refused to let her retire to their chambers.

She wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders and gazed at the night sky, the constellations shining like scattered diamonds. A soft rustle came from the shadows behind her. Y/N turned sharply, her heart skipping a beat.

“Who goes there?” she called, her voice steady but wary.

From the shadows emerged a figure she would recognize anywhere. Marcus stood tall, his armor glinting faintly in the moonlight, his face rugged and worn yet undeniably handsome. His dark hair was slightly disheveled, and the shadow of a beard framed his chiseled jawline. He carried himself with the confidence of a man who had faced death and emerged victorious, but his eyes softened the moment they met hers.

“Did I frighten you, my love?” he asked, a small smile playing on his lips.

Y/N’s breath hitched. For a moment, she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Then, as the realization sank in, she rushed toward him, her shawl slipping from her shoulders. Marcus opened his arms, and she threw herself into his embrace, the weight of months of separation dissolving in an instant.

“Marcus,” she whispered, her voice breaking with emotion. “You’re home.”

“I am,” he murmured, holding her tightly. “And I intend never to leave your side again, not unless duty demands it.”

She pulled back slightly, her hands resting on his chest. “You’re safe?” Her eyes searched his face, looking for any sign of injury.

“I am,” he assured her. “The gods have seen fit to bring me back to you in one piece.”

Y/N smiled, though tears glistened in her eyes. “The gods must favor me, then.”

Marcus cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away her tears. “No, my love. They favor me, for they have given me you.”

She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes for a moment to savor the warmth of his hands. When she opened them, her smile had deepened, and her voice was playful. “You should have sent word of your arrival. I would have prepared a feast fit for the victor of Rome.”

“And miss the chance to surprise you?” he teased. “Never.”

He bent his head and kissed her, a kiss that spoke of longing, love, and promises unspoken. The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them under the watchful gaze of the stars.

When they finally parted, Y/N took his hand and led him to a stone bench near the fountain. They sat together, the cool night air wrapping around them like a gentle embrace.

“Tell me,” she said softly. “Tell me everything. How was the campaign? How do you fare?”

Marcus hesitated for a moment, then began to speak. He recounted the battles he had fought, the strategies that had brought victory, and the lives lost along the way. His voice was steady, but there was a weight to his words, a heaviness that spoke of the toll war had taken on him.

Y/N listened intently, her hand never leaving his. When he finished, she squeezed his hand and said, “You carry the burden of Rome, but you need not carry it alone. You have me, Marcus. Always.”

He looked at her, his eyes filled with gratitude. “I know,” he said. “And it is your love that gives me strength.”

They sat in silence for a while, the sound of the fountain mingling with the whispers of the night. Then, Marcus stood and held out his hand.

“Come,” he said. “Let us not waste this night. I have been away from you for far too long.”

Y/N took his hand, her heart fluttering. He led her through the garden, their footsteps light on the cobblestone paths. They paused by a marble pavilion, its columns entwined with ivy. There, under the canopy of the heavens, Marcus pulled her into his arms once more.

“I dreamt of this moment,” he said, his voice low and intimate. “Of holding you, of hearing your voice, of seeing your smile. The battlefield is no place for dreams, but you were my constant solace.”

Y/N placed a hand on his cheek, her touch tender. “And you were mine,” she replied. “Every day, I prayed for your safe return. Now that you’re here, it feels as if the world has righted itself.”

They shared another kiss, this one deeper and more passionate, a melding of souls that spoke of their unbreakable bond. His hands roamed her back, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. The intensity of the moment made her gasp softly against his lips, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss further, his tongue exploring hers with a hunger born of months of yearning.

“Marcus,” she whispered when they finally broke apart, her cheeks flushed and her breath shallow. “Take me somewhere we won’t be disturbed.”

He needed no further invitation. Without a word, he swept her into his arms, carrying her through the garden toward their chambers. Her laughter, soft and melodic, mingled with the rustle of leaves as he quickened his pace.

Once inside, the door closed behind them with a quiet thud, sealing them in a world of their own. Marcus set her down gently, his eyes roaming her form with a gaze so heated it made her shiver. He began to unfasten his armor, the clang of metal filling the room as piece by piece fell away, revealing the powerful physique beneath. His scars told stories of battles fought, but to Y/N, they only made him more captivating.

She stepped closer, her hands moving to help him, her fingers brushing against his skin. “You’re more beautiful than I remember,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion.

He caught her hands and brought them to his lips, kissing her knuckles. “And you, my love, have haunted my every thought.”

Their movements became slower, more deliberate, as they undressed each other. Each touch, each kiss, was a rediscovery, a celebration of their love. When they finally came together, it was with an intensity that left no room for doubt or hesitation. His hands explored her curves reverently, his lips worshipping every inch of her skin. She responded in kind, her touch igniting flames wherever it lingered, her whispered declarations of love weaving into the heady atmosphere of their union.

They moved together in perfect harmony, a dance as old as time, their passion building to a crescendo that left them both trembling. Marcus held her tightly as they reached the peak of their love, his whispered praises and endearments filling her ears.

When the storm finally subsided, they lay tangled in each other’s arms, their bodies slick with sweat, their hearts beating as one. Marcus brushed a strand of hair from her face and gazed down at her with an intensity that made her heart ache.

“You are my everything, Y/N,” he murmured. “My reason for fighting, my reason for living. I am nothing without you.”

Tears welled in her eyes as she cupped his cheek. “And you are mine, Marcus. You’ve always been mine.”

As the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, they remained entwined, their love a sanctuary against the trials of the world. For this moment, they were free, and nothing else mattered but the bond they shared.

[tightjeansjavi]

⋆˚✿˖°❀ Sarah’s Treasures⋆˚✿˖°❀

Summary: Joel Miller single father to Sarah and Ellie, (his adopted daughter) Joel lives a simple life with his family. Outside of being a carpenter, he opened up a thrift store in town named, Sarah’s Treasures. Sarah, Ellie, and Tommy all encourage Joel to get out in the world and make new friends. You’re new to Austin, a fresh pretty face. You find yourself inside Joel’s thrift store when an online date bails on you.

Pairing | thrift store owner! Joel Miller x f!reader

Fic Warnings: angst, fluff, eventual established relationship, eventual smut, relationship baggage, soft! Joel, relationship trauma, sunshine reader, single dad! Joel, Joel is a sweetheart, Ellie and Sarah exist in this universe, no outbreak/AU, no age gap, reader has no physical descriptions, Tommy owns a coffee shop, +18 minors dni!

Chapters |

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

[alwaysmicado]

new = 💫 | angst/hurt = 🖤 | smut = 🌶 | fluff/comfort = 🌸

Post-Outbreak: keep you warm

Masterlist

keep you warm (x !freader) • 1.3k • AO3 • 🌸 You reveal to Joel that you are carrying his child. He vows to keep you both safe and warm, always.

never felt so loved (x f!reader) • 2.5k • AO3 • 🖤🌸 Your new life in Jackson and progressing pregnancy bring forth fears that haunt your days and nights. Joel finds a way to show you just how loved you are. -> Knitting 101 with Joel Miller 🌸

cravings (x f!reader) • 3.4k • AO3 • 🌸 Your pregnancy hormones have you craving three things: figs, coffee, and Joel. He’s more than happy to accommodate you.

two hearts, one bond (x f!reader) • 3.2k • AO3 • 🖤 🌸 Joel experiences sympathetic pregnancy.

AU Series: You wanted this fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader

Series Masterlist

You wanted this • 3.1k • pt. 1 • AO3 • 🌶 Joel and you have a fun dynamic going. You provoke him, he punishes you - you both get off. When you meet him after you’ve fucked someone else, he decides to show you who you belong to. It’s all fun and games, right?

Wet • 3.3k • pt. 2 • AO3 • 🌶 You run into Joel at the gym. Seeing him all sweaty in his gym shorts turns you on, so you fuck him in the whirpool.

Don't ruin the sofa • 6.5k • pt. 3 • AO3 (🖤) 🌶 🌸 After a phone call brings up repressed emotions, you decide to buy a new sofa. Joel assembles it for you, then fucks you on it. 

What you need • 2.9k • pt. 4 • AO3 • 🌶 🌸 Joel is sick and your pussy's the best medicine.

Trouble • 5.3k • pt. 5 • AO3 • 🌶 🌸 After you’ve distracted Joel from work with your explicit texts all day, he decides to teach you a lesson. 

No broken hearts • 8.3k • pt. 6 • AO3 • 🖤🌶 After Joel fucks you against a gas station wall, you run into an old friend. A bottle of wine and a smashed mirror later, you make a late-night call from your bathroom floor.

Sunshine • 6.7k • pt. 7 • AO3 • 🖤 A spontaneous meeting in a bar lays bare some uncomfortable truths.

Sink or swim • 12.3k • pt. 8 • AO3 • 🖤 (🌶) 🌸 You reminisce about the late-night conversation that changed your life forever. Joel shares a secret.

↪ why her? • 4.6k • AO3 • 🖤 Joel tells Tommy that he’s been seeing you.

Callisto I • 10.2k • pt. 9 • AO3 • 🖤🌸 Your car ride home from the beach is...eventful. Joel does something special for you to express his feelings.

Callisto II -> coming soon

More: You wanted this fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader

we shouldn't • 2.9k • AO3 • 🌸 (🖤🌶) Joel holds your hand after a night out. It makes you feel things you don’t want to feel.

💫 in my arms • 2.1k • AO3 • 🌸 As Joel watches you sleep beside him for the first time, he realizes just how deeply he’s come to crave something more than just fleeting moments together.

Smutty One-Shots

pretty eyes (x f!reader) • 1.5k • AO3 • 🌶 You show Joel how much you love his ass.

[javiscigarette]

hello and welcome!

my blog is 18+ only minors do not interact. Please read all warning and tags for each fic before reading.

check out my fic recs tag to see some other fics I enjoy! and feel free to tag me in your own fics too!

thanks for stopping by and reading 🤎

Teacher's Pet, Part 2 25 years old, anxiety-ridden, and still a virgin, you ask your friend Joel for advice on your upcoming date. But you're more of a...hands-on learner. And he's more than happy to help. 

Silent Night You’re home for the holidays and Joel isn't gonna let a drinking contest or a house full of people stop him.

For You, I Would Joel catches you doing something you definitely shouldn't be doing and teaches you you lesson (or a prequel to Push and Pull)

In the Middle of the Night In the middle of the night, Joel is wide awake and you're moaning in your sleep

Peaches n' Cream You like peaches and Joel like watching you eat them.

Bad Fun Jealous Joel takes you in the bar bathroom.

Good Luck Charm Joel loves the Texas Longhorns and you're just needy

Fixed on Your Hand of Gold Joel breaks his promise.

Push and Pull Joel just realllyyy likes your dress (and fucking you into subspace)

Sweet Dreams You find Javi awake in the middle of the night and help him fall asleep :)

Just Focus on My Love Frankie just thinks there are better things to do than play a silly video game called Stardew Valley

[inkedells]

real quick, i mainly write smutty fanfiction.

please note: fics marked with ☠︎ are dub/non-con!! if you can't see certain fics, check your tumblr maturity settings.

JOIN MY TAGLIST HERE

18+ divider creds: @cafekitsune

LOGAN HOWLETT:

[the following are ordered oldest to newest]

☁︎ [3.5k words] mean!oldman!logan takes you apart to prove he's still got it

☁︎ logan eating you out while fucking the mattress

☁︎ dry humping w/ logan

☁︎ cowboy!logan teasing you

☁︎ bratty sub!logan headcanon

JOEL MILLER:

longer fics:

☁︎ [5.5k words] let the light in (dbf!joel x virgin!reader)

[the following are ordered oldest to newest]

drabbles:

☁︎ dbf!joel making you show him where you want him

☁︎ joel convinces you to ride his face

☁︎ jealous!joel teaching you a lesson after you flirt with another man

☁︎ sitting in joel's lap while wearing only a skirt

☁︎ making out with joel's cock

☁︎ dark!joel uses reader's body to get off ☠︎

☁︎ dbf!joel has you rub yourself on his hand while he drives

☁︎ dbf!joel teaches you how to ride him

☁︎ messing around w/ dbf!joel on a trip to cancun

plushie series:

☁︎ (plushie fic pt. 1) dbf!joel fucks you in a bed full of plushies

☁︎ (plushie fic pt. 2) dbf!joel loves when you squirt

☁︎ (plushie fic pt. 3) dbf!joel grinds on you and fucks your stuffies while you sleep

☁︎ (plushie fic pt. 4) dbf!joel braiding your hair while you grind on him (based off ldr)

[joelsdagger]

masterlist

my blog is 18+. minors–please do not interact. 

do not copy or translate my writing. i do not consent that my writing be used to create ai chat bots or fed to ai in any capacity.

game joel til the day i die. not running a tag list but follow @joelsdaggerupdates for notifs on when i post fic!

note: any moodboards/visuals that depict specific features are purely for aesthetic purposes only. all reader inserts are yours to conjure up. please heed the warnings on each fic and be mindful of the content you consume.

ao3 if that's your preferred poison.

joel miller – the last of us 

- one shots -

➳ all the things i would do [jackson!joel] - joel finds an article of clothing that belongs to you and there’s nothing holding him back once he gets his hands on them.

➳ talking body [jackson!joel x curvy reader] - joel doesn’t hesitate to show you just how crazy he is about you.

➳ intermission [daddy!joel, no outbreak/modern au] - movie night with joel doesn’t go to plan. or, joel fucks your mouth while you're sleeping. [tw ddlg] [tw dubcon]

➳ walk the line [boston qz!joel] - you and joel have a deal: sex in exchange for supplies. no questions asked. so what happens when you do? or, joel fucks you while you're in a headlock. [tw dark!joel] [tw dubcon/possible noncon]

➳ only then, i am good [daddy jackson!joel] - you have a bad day in which it makes you question your worth. only joel can make you see the truth. [tw ddlg] [tw dubcon]

➳ 'tis the season [dbf!joel] - you’re back in town for christmas, and it’s been months since you’ve seen your boyfriend, joel miller. and he decides to make the most of the brief window of time you have together. or, joel fucks you after taking viagra.

- mini series -

➳ that’s the way road dogs do it [ex bf’s dad!joel, no outbreak/modern au] - on a night out with friends, you run into someone from your past. part one || part two [tw dubcon]

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[theetherealbloom]

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

← Previous Chapter | Main Masterlist |

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.

[ohraicodoll]

 Feral Masterlist

Joel Miller x Feral Reader/OFC

(You’ve all lovingly named this character Feral Reader, but she’s referenced as Starshine or Red sometimes in the stories.)

Warning: Explicit Content, Graphic Violence, Trauma, PTSD

(Put in order of story timeline)

Monsters Two-Shot | (18+ Minors DNI) | 3rd POV | AO3 Part 1 | Part 2 Honey One-Shot | (18+ Minors DNI) | 3rd POV | AO3 The first time there was an excuse, the second time was just about release after a hard day.

Be Still Drabble | 3rd POV | AO3 It takes her a while to notice. Joel is having a panic attack. Bitter Two-Shot | 3rd POV | AO3 Joel makes a decision for all of them when they finally find Tommy in Jackson. Part 1 | Part 2 Violent Delights One-Shot | 3rd POV | AO3 With Joel injured and Ellie captured, she has to make a choice. Violent Ends One-Shot | 3rd POV | AO3 They find the Fireflies and one by one, the lights go out.  Crossword Snippet | 3rd POV | AO3 It’s the first time their group has been split up and Joel definitely isn’t waiting for you at the gates.

Daisies Drabble | 3rd POV | AO3 The women of Jackson have their eyes set on Joel Miller.

Beast One-Shot | 18+ Minors DNI for Graphic Violence | 3rd POV | AO3 All she can see is that he’s hurt and she would tear them apart. Left Behind One-Shot | 3rd POV | AO3 Settling into life in Jackson wasn't going so easily and Joel is hit with the possibility she may not be welcomed to stay. Territorial One-Shot | 3rd POV | AO3 She never paid attention to the newcomers when they joined Jackson until one of them begins to get close to Joel. Dominant One-Shot | 3rd POV | AO3 Jealousy and rationality don’t mix. Hero Worship Drabble | 3rd POV Ellie has a little admirer  Your Bury Me One-Shot | 3rd POV | AO3 A failed trade, a dress, music, and their own form of confession. Mine Drabble | 3rd POV He doesn’t like other’s attention on her

Drabbles:

Reckless: Ellie gets mad at her for being too careless with herself Red’s Personality ***Red Integrating Into Jackson Headcanons ***Red and Joel Headcanons Does Red ever try singing again? ***Tommy x Red Headcanons Tommy after the punch ***Ellie x Red Headcanons ***Joel falling for Red Headcanons Red is Ellie’s Mom Gifts from the Barn Cat The Morning After Bitter Part 2 Joel’s Nightmares ***Moments in Domesticity Headcanons ***Ellie and Red arguement Headcanons

Asks

Where does Red met them in the timeline? TLOU Part 2 Question Sunshine Bestie Red and cheating scenario Romance and Connections Red and Pregnancies Maria and Red’s relationship Ellie’s Adjustment Maria standing up for Red Reds Triggers Red & the baby (More) When Reds Sick Annie’s Birthday Joel Calming Red Down Red’s Trinkets

________________________________ If you would like to be added to a taglist for this series, please reply to this post! Taglist: @alouise20 @faceache111​ @hawsx3 @taxidriversainz @iluvbunnyhops @mrfitzdarcyslover @emlovesya  @agent007knight @spaacerabbit @namgification @wonwoosthetic  @wxnderingthoughts @sagggy @escaping-reality8 @badwolf00593​ @themothersmercy @badwolf00593 @mxtokko @happinessinthebeing​ @taranicristeard  @aroacefanenby @barbellpedro  @maviee​ @sgt-morgan @peppesgirl​ @spideysimpossiblegirl ​ @hreader7​ @jackierose902109

[mothandpidgeon]

The Outlaws (outlaw!Joel Miller x f!reader) Masterlist

pairing: Outlaw!Joel Miller x f!reader rating: E 18+ MDNI

summary: Wanted for murder with a bounty on your head, your only hope of escaping the Pinkerton detectives is an outlaw named Joel Miller and his sidekick Ellie. But Joel has other plans for you. series contents : old west au, train robberies, enemies to lovers, grumpy Joel, handcuffed together, forced proximity, smut, period/genre/canon typical violence, alcohol, morally grey characters, assuming Ellie’s gender, reader has backstory, only one bed, no use of y/n. [check chapter warnings…I’ll update here]

about the reader: Reader is able bodied, bisexual, and has hair. She is an outlaw in her own right– a criminal and killer and frankly slightly unhinged (affectionate). She hails from Missouri and has a tragic backstory but, as always, I try not to include physical descriptors. Her age isn’t explicitly mentioned but she is an adult woman.

Moth's Masterlist - follow @mothandpidgeon-updates an turn on notifications so stay updated with my fics!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

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Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

[andy-15-07]

The Empress and the General

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x female reader

Word Count: 3399

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

The Colosseum buzzed with the thunderous cheers of Rome’s citizens. The air was thick with anticipation, dust swirling in the golden rays of the sun. General Marcus Acacius, his polished armor gleaming, stood near the Emperor's platform. His piercing gaze scanned the roaring crowd, but his mind was steady, unyielding. He had long served Rome with unwavering loyalty, his reputation as a fierce warrior preceding him.

Today, however, his focus faltered as his eyes fell on her.

Y/N sat gracefully beside her brothers, Emperor Geta and Emperor Caracalla, adorned in a flowing gown of imperial purple and gold. Her presence was like a beacon amidst the chaos, her beauty striking, her demeanor regal. She leaned forward slightly, her eyes sparkling with curiosity and excitement as she watched the spectacle below. Marcus felt his breath hitch—a reaction he hadn’t experienced in years.

As though sensing his gaze, Y/N turned her head, her eyes meeting his. There was a brief moment where the world seemed to pause. A flicker of something—recognition, perhaps—passed between them before she looked away, her lips curving into a small smile.

Marcus swallowed hard, tearing his eyes away. He was a soldier, bound by duty. And she—she was untouchable.

Later that evening, the emperors summoned Marcus to their private chambers. The siblings were striking in their contrasting personas: Geta, the more calculating and composed ruler, and Caracalla, brash and fiery. Y/N sat quietly to the side, her expression unreadable.

"General Acacius," Geta began, his tone measured, "you have served Rome well, and we entrust you with a new responsibility."

Marcus inclined his head respectfully. "Anything for the glory of Rome, my lords."

Caracalla leaned forward, a sly grin on his lips. "Our sister, Y/N, is dear to us. As you know, the court is rife with intrigue. We require someone capable of ensuring her safety."

Marcus blinked, his composure unwavering despite the quickened pace of his heart. "You wish for me to guard her, my lord?"

"Precisely," Geta affirmed. "You will accompany her during public appearances, oversee her security, and report directly to us."

Marcus���s gaze flickered briefly to Y/N, who now watched him intently. "It will be my honor."

The following days saw Marcus in Y/N’s constant presence. Initially, their interactions were formal. She would nod politely when he escorted her, offer a soft "thank you" when he opened doors or helped her into carriages. Yet, there was a quiet curiosity in her eyes, as if she sought to understand the man behind the armor.

One afternoon, as they strolled through the imperial gardens, Y/N finally spoke.

"Do you always take your duties so seriously, General?"

Marcus glanced at her, surprised by her playful tone. "A soldier’s duty is his life, my lady."

"Surely there’s more to life than duty," she mused, plucking a flower and twirling it between her fingers.

"Not for someone like me," he replied, his voice low.

"And what is someone like you?"

Marcus hesitated. "A man who serves. Nothing more."

Y/N stopped walking, turning to face him. "I don’t believe that. You’re more than just a soldier, Marcus Acacius."

Hearing his name from her lips sent a shiver through him. He cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure. "You honor me with your words, my lady."

She smiled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Perhaps I do."

As weeks passed, their conversations grew deeper. Y/N shared stories of her childhood, moments of joy and sorrow. Marcus, in turn, revealed fragments of his life—his rise through the ranks, his loyalty to Rome. Slowly, walls crumbled, and an undeniable connection formed between them.

One evening, as they stood on a balcony overlooking the city, Y/N spoke softly. "Do you ever dream, Marcus?"

"Dream?" he echoed.

"Yes. Of something beyond this life. Beyond duty and titles."

Marcus looked at her, the moonlight casting her features in a soft glow. "I stopped dreaming long ago."

She stepped closer, her gaze unwavering. "Then perhaps it’s time you start again."

For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine—a life where she wasn’t the sister of emperors, where he wasn’t bound by duty. A life where they could be free.

Their growing closeness did not go unnoticed. Whispers spread through the court, and the emperors, though initially indifferent, began to question Marcus’s loyalty.

Caracalla confronted him one day, his tone sharp. "Do not mistake my trust for permission, General. My sister is not yours to covet."

Marcus stood his ground, his voice steady. "I have done nothing to dishonor her or your family, my lord."

"See that it stays that way," Caracalla warned, his eyes narrowing.

The tension only served to deepen Marcus’s resolve. He couldn’t deny his feelings for Y/N, but he also couldn’t risk her safety. Yet, Y/N, ever perceptive, sensed his inner turmoil.

One night, as they walked through the palace halls, she stopped abruptly.

"Marcus," she said, her voice firm, "do you care for me?"

He froze, his heart pounding. "My lady, I—"

"Do not lie to me," she interrupted, stepping closer. "I see it in your eyes. You feel what I feel."

Marcus exhaled shakily. "It doesn’t matter. You are—"

"Don’t say it," she pleaded. "Don’t remind me of the chains that bind us."

Her vulnerability shattered his defenses. Without thinking, he reached out, cupping her face gently. "I would give everything to be with you," he admitted, his voice raw.

"And I would do the same," she whispered, tears glistening in her eyes.

Their love, though forbidden, became their solace. They stole moments whenever they could—hidden glances, whispered words, fleeting touches.

But their happiness was fleeting. The emperors grew suspicious, and whispers of betrayal reached their ears.

One fateful day, Marcus was summoned to the throne room. Geta and Caracalla stood side by side, their expressions grim. Y/N stood behind them, her face pale.

"General Acacius," Geta began, "you have served Rome faithfully, but your recent actions have brought your loyalty into question."

Marcus dropped to one knee. "I have done nothing to betray Rome or your trust, my lords."

Caracalla sneered. "Do not insult our intelligence. Your feelings for our sister are no secret."

Y/N stepped forward, her voice trembling. "They are my feelings as well. Do not punish him for what is beyond his control."

Her words stunned the room into silence. Marcus looked up at her, his eyes wide.

Geta sighed, his tone heavy. "This cannot continue. For the sake of the empire, Marcus, you must leave."

Marcus was exiled, sent to the outskirts of the empire. But even distance could not sever their bond. Through letters smuggled by loyal servants, they kept their love alive, vowing to reunite one day.

Years later, as Marcus fought in a distant land, a message arrived. It bore Y/N’s handwriting, her words filled with hope and longing.

"Rome may keep us apart, but my heart is yours, always. One day, we will find our way back to each other."

And with that promise, Marcus held onto hope, determined to defy fate and reclaim the love that had changed him forever.

The quiet of the night was broken only by the rustle of leaves in the wind, but Y/N felt the weight of a decision that had long been simmering in her heart. The golden glow of the imperial palace, with its looming marble columns and opulent halls, had never been more suffocating. The weight of being the sister of two emperors, of carrying the expectations and responsibilities of the empire on her shoulders, had grown unbearable. Even her love for her brothers had not been enough to silence the yearning that had lodged deep within her—a yearning for freedom, for a life not defined by power or politics, but by love and choice.

She glanced out of her window one final time, at the majestic city of Rome stretching endlessly beneath the sky. But her thoughts were not on the glory of the empire. They were on the man she had left behind, the man who had once stood beside her, not as a general or protector, but as a lover—Marcus Acacius.

It had been nearly three years since her brothers had exiled him, a decision that had torn her apart. Yet, with every letter she received from him, with every fleeting moment of longing, her resolve had only strengthened. She could not bear the thought of living without him. He had become more than a soldier to her—he was her heart, her future.

The plan was simple, though dangerous. She would leave in the dead of night, with nothing but a few personal belongings and a letter to her brothers. There was no turning back once she stepped beyond the palace walls. But as she made her preparations, a sense of peace settled over her, knowing that this was the right choice.

By the time the moon reached its zenith, Y/N had left the palace behind. The streets of Rome were deserted, the bustling life of the city hushed under the veil of darkness. Her heart raced with each step, but there was no hesitation. She was driven by a singular purpose: to find Marcus, to build a life with him, far from the reach of her brothers and their empire.

The journey was long and treacherous. She had little more than the clothes on her back, but her mind was resolute. She knew the way to the small village where Marcus had taken refuge after his exile. It was a place far removed from the influence of the empire, nestled at the edges of the Roman world, where the forests were thick and the land untamed. The journey, though, was fraught with danger. There were still whispers of Marcus’s supposed betrayal of Rome, and she knew that Roman patrols could be anywhere, hunting for her.

But her love for him was stronger than the fear that clawed at her chest. She would endure whatever hardships lay ahead, for him. For them.

Days passed before she finally arrived at the small stone house Marcus had built for them. The door swung open as soon as she knocked, revealing a man who looked nothing like the polished general she had known. His once-gilded armor had been replaced with simple tunics, and his face, once smooth and youthful, now carried the marks of exile. Yet, as their eyes met, the love in his gaze was unchanged.

"Y/N..." he whispered, his voice thick with disbelief and emotion.

She smiled, tears threatening to fall. "I had to come, Marcus. I couldn’t stay. Not without you."

He stepped forward, his arms wrapping around her as if afraid that if he let go, she would vanish into the night. The familiar weight of his arms around her brought a sense of calm that she hadn’t realized she had been missing. "You shouldn’t have, Y/N. The empire... they will come for you."

"I’m done with the empire," she said softly, pulling back to look into his eyes. "I’m done with all of it. I want to be with you."

His gaze softened, but a flicker of doubt passed through his eyes. "But what about your brothers? Your family? You’re leaving everything behind."

She took his hands in hers, squeezing them tightly. "I am leaving the empire behind, Marcus. I am choosing you. I have never been happier than when I am with you. I will follow you, wherever we go."

The weight of her words hung between them, a promise that neither of them would ever break. They stood there for a long time, simply holding each other, knowing that this moment—this love—was all they needed.

In the years that followed, their life together was filled with quiet moments of happiness, but also struggles that tested them both. They built a small farm together, the land harsh but fertile, and over time, the house grew with the addition of their children.

Lucius was the first to be born, a strong-willed boy who took after his father’s fierce determination. He was quick to pick up a sword and began practicing with Marcus from the age of six. Aurelia came next, her sharp mind and quick wit making her a natural leader. Even as a child, she could take charge of any situation, and her mother often found herself marveling at the young woman she was becoming.

Cassian was a dreamer, always lost in his thoughts or in the pages of the books Y/N had secretly saved from her royal life. He wasn’t interested in swordplay or fighting; instead, he dreamed of stories and adventures. But even he had a strong will, and when the time came, he would fight for those he loved.

Junia, their youngest, was the spark that kept the family alive. With her mischievous grin and boundless energy, she reminded them all that even in the darkest times, joy could still be found.

But even as they created a life for themselves, the shadow of the empire was never far behind. Marcus had hoped to fade into obscurity, but his past as a general would always haunt him. And soon, the empire came calling once more.

The years that followed Marcus and Y/N’s decision to live outside the empire were filled with both challenges and moments of quiet happiness. As they watched their children grow, the family created a life rich in love, rooted in the simplicity of the land they had chosen to call home. It wasn’t the grandeur of Rome, nor the power of an empire that shaped their world—it was the warmth of their shared moments, the strength of their love, and the joy of raising their children together.

It was early in the morning when the first rays of sunlight pierced the horizon, casting a soft glow over the land. Marcus and Y/N stood side by side in the garden, their hands intertwined as they watched their children play in the fields. The air was fresh with the scent of wildflowers, and the sound of laughter filled the space between them.

Lucius, now a young man of seventeen, raced after his younger siblings, Aurelia and Cassian, who were in pursuit of a butterfly that fluttered just beyond their reach. Junia, ever the energetic one, hopped in circles, her giggles ringing out as she watched her brothers and sister. It was moments like these that made everything worth it—these simple joys that, even in their most difficult days, filled the family with a sense of peace.

"You know," Y/N said softly, her voice carrying the weight of years of love and gratitude, "when I imagined a life with you, I never imagined this. A home filled with laughter, with children, with peace."

Marcus smiled, his eyes softening as he watched their children. "I never imagined it either. But I wouldn’t trade it for anything."

He leaned down, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "You are my greatest treasure, Y/N. I never knew what it was to truly live until I had you beside me."

Y/N leaned into his touch, her heart swelling with love. "And you, Marcus. I never knew what it was to be truly free until I found you."

They stood there for a moment, silently watching their children. The world outside their home may have been filled with turmoil and uncertainty, but here, in this moment, they had everything they needed. A family, bound by love, and a future that stretched ahead of them, full of possibility.

Later that afternoon, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, the family gathered around a small table outside, their meal simple but filled with warmth. The fire crackled in the background, casting a soft light over their faces. The children chatted excitedly about their day—Lucius had learned how to fish, Aurelia had discovered a hidden grove of trees, and Cassian had spent hours reading the stories that Y/N had brought with her from the city.

"Father," Lucius said, his voice carrying the weight of a young man who had already learned the value of hard work, "how did you know what to do when you were in the army? How did you make those tough decisions?"

Marcus looked at his son, his heart swelling with pride. "It wasn’t always easy, Lucius. The weight of those decisions… it was heavy. But every choice I made, I made with the hope that it would protect the people I loved. And now," he added, his voice softening, "I make my decisions based on the same love, but this time, it’s for all of you."

Lucius nodded, understanding the depth of his father's words. He had learned much from Marcus—not just in skill, but in honor, duty, and love. Aurelia, ever the wise one, placed her hand on his arm.

"Father," she said, "you’ve taught us so much about what truly matters. You’ve shown us how to live, not just survive. And that is something we will carry with us forever."

Cassian, who had been listening intently, looked up from his book. "I think the best lesson you’ve taught me is that it’s okay to dream, even if the world doesn’t always understand. I used to think I had to be like everyone else, but now I know I can be true to who I am."

Marcus smiled, his heart full as he looked around at his children. He and Y/N had given them more than just survival. They had given them a home, a sense of belonging, and the freedom to be themselves.

As the evening wore on, the family sat around the fire, the sounds of nature enveloping them. Marcus reached for Y/N’s hand, squeezing it gently. "Look at them," he said quietly, his voice full of awe. "They’re so full of life, so full of love. We’ve created something beautiful, haven’t we?"

Y/N smiled, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Yes, we have. They are our greatest creation, Marcus. Our legacy."

Aurelia, ever perceptive, leaned over to her mother. "Do you ever miss Rome, Mother? The life we left behind?"

Y/N paused for a moment, considering her daughter’s question. "Sometimes, I think about it. I think about what could have been, what we might have had. But when I look at this," she said, gesturing to the family gathered around the table, "I know we made the right choice. I have everything I need right here."

Lucius smiled at his mother’s words, his expression thoughtful. "And so do I. I wouldn’t trade this life for anything."

Marcus looked at his children, his heart swelling with love and pride. He had come so far from the man he once was—the soldier who served Rome without question. And now, he was a father, a husband, a man who had built a life worth living, a life where love was the greatest force of all.

As the stars began to twinkle above, and the sounds of the night enveloped them in a peaceful quiet, Marcus stood and held out his hand to Y/N. "Shall we, my love?"

She took his hand, standing beside him as they walked slowly into the night, their children’s laughter echoing behind them. There was no grand empire waiting for them—no throne, no titles, no power. But they had something far more precious: each other. And together, they would face whatever the future held, knowing that as long as they had each other, they would always have everything they needed.

Some time later, the family found themselves gathered in the warm glow of the fire again, the flickering light casting soft shadows across the room. Lucius had returned from his training, Aurelia had spent the day working on their garden, and Cassian, with his book in hand, had wandered out to join the family.

Marcus stood before them, a proud smile on his face. "Your mother and I were talking, and we think it’s time you all start learning about what comes after this life. What comes after the days spent in the fields and the gardens. It’s time you understand that family doesn’t just mean those we’re born to—it means those we choose to protect."

Lucius nodded, his eyes gleaming with a deep understanding of his father’s words. Aurelia set her tools aside, her mind already turning with thoughts of how she could help. Cassian, ever the thoughtful one, placed his book down gently.

Y/N glanced at Marcus, her eyes filled with love, then turned to their children. "We’ve built something strong together. But the world outside this farm won’t always be as kind. You must remember that the true power lies in love and the choices we make—what we give to one another, what we protect with all our hearts."

And as they sat together in the warmth of their small home, surrounded by the peace they had built, they knew that their greatest legacy would be the love they shared, the family they had created, and the lessons they would pass on to the generations that followed.

[tightjeansjavi]

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