#pedro pascal actor fanfiction

[fandomdaydreamer]

The Lighthouse and The Ocean

Pt 25 - Tragically Longing

Pairing: Pedro Pascal/OFC

Warnings: angst, valium consumption

Summary: Pedro's and Nini's break up takes a heavy toll on her until she receives an unexpected visitor on Christmas Eve.

Notes: Also find this fic on Ao3 -here- or the series' Masterlist and Playlist -here-

Sorry for the wait, life's been sooo busy Q_Q

Length: 8k

~

The Tweet had followed a couple of days after our break up.

Pedro Pascal he/him;

I am disgusted by my so called "caring fans" who send @ninivanfleet hate or threaten her! Please be sensitive, for this is painful enough.

What a noble way of finally publicly admitting that we weren't together anymore.

Of course, words of our break up had gotten out, right along with rumours of one heartbroken Pedro Pascal moping about in forced society.

Truth be told, I didn't even blame him for the severe backlash I received because if he even felt half as miserable as I, he would have broken down and cried every time anyone on the job had come up to ask if he was okay. But guess who was the bad guy? The one having pictures of him running through the streets of Brooklyn with a bouquet of flowers or the one who had released an aloof rock song that was addressing her ex?

The unmistakable sound of eggs cracking against my door and my security yelling at the perpetrators rang through the living room. So let them, I thought and dug deeply into my ice-cream. It reminded me about the fact that this was entirely my fault.

At one point in my life, I must have forgotten what real hurt felt like. It was the incomparable sensation of keep hanging on, full of heartache and anger and still, endlessly in love. None of it made sense, the suddenty of our break up, the excruciating pain and tragical longing. No amount of screaming or crying would ever help.

I wasn't in touch with life itself anymore for the time I hadn't seen the light of day. I had come to merely endure it while Nine Inch Nails blared through the house.

Everything I know goes away in the end

I kept eating my chocolate brownie Ben and Jerry's, slowly spiralling into the song's heavy music as I sprinkled my desert with two valium and fed myself a spoon full of misery.

I will let you down, I will make you hurt

New tears spilt down my cheeks when I looked back ahead. As often these last couple of days, I remembered the things Pedro and I had said to each other. Hurtful things that had torn away the ground beneath my feet, things I'd never expected to come from him. Not him.

How badly I just wanted to beg him to come back.

Alas, the harsh bangs of whatever rotten stuff hitting my door and office windows were not easily mistaken for a visitor. Still placing full spoons of soft ice cream into my mouth, I was tempted to throw the pint down the hall and at my door.

"Fuck off!" I yelled against the music instead and scared the cat to flee upstairs again, poor thing.

Too many days and worried friends later, there were still no messages or calls from Pedro, even after I had given in and tried calling him. I only reached voice mail and broke connection before the beep. No visit or tearful reunion would ever happen or even a fantasy of me heartlessly turning him out again after he begged me to take him back. No, it seemed he was determined to keep his word. He stayed away and I stayed stagnant, lying here for hours or for weeks.

Until the contracted interviews spent hidden behind dark sunglasses, with constant supervision and fake smiles. There wasn't really a night show to appear on or stage lights to feel exposed in or a hyped up audience who listened to the fruits of my love and heartbreak. There was only the possibility that all of this was just a bad dream and I had taken enough pills not to notice.

The audience roared. Mere moments later I blinked and suddenly I was backstage again, ripping the wires off my body. They were still cheering for Pedro's song when I walked through the exit and wiped away my tears.

Fingers prodded at my cheek and neck. The hand on my shoulder felt invasive, my skin was cold an numb. "Oh, no, darling. Not again." A dull, faraway voice rang past my veil of vengeful bitter thoughts and sweet valium hazed memories. The people's silhouettes looked like my friends, but my vision refused to focus for a few seconds. "Nnno, leave me." I mumbled tiredly and almost went back to sleep to ignore Hugh tutting about and sorting through my mess while Olivia went to flush my pills down the toilet. "Don' tell Tom." I only managed to say, fearing my best friend would leave me too if he knew I had broken my promise to never rely on tranquilizers again.

Sammi had been the one examining my pitiful, drugged condition. "It's alright, come here. Hang on, baby, hand on-" Strong arms picked me up and next thing I knew, I was put into bed, dozing in and out of consciousness in the ambiguous light of the Venetian blinds.

I just wanted to sleep and have dreams. Dreams of a wide ocean and warm brown eyes and an even warmer laugh. His picture on my nightstand, his clothes on my chair, and me in my bed without the warmth of my life.

"Promise me to keep an eye on her?" Olivia's voice. "Of course." Sammi sighed from somewhere at the foot of my bed as he tucked in my feet.

His sweet but muted, incoherent voice telling me that I'd be alright again only made me cry into my donkey stuffie.

Yet here I lay for another week, worn out and unwilling, barely even present, wondering if I'd ever rest in peace.

On Christmas Eve I finally promised myself to start healing and accept Hugh and Sammi's help. I sent the security home to their families and visited my neighbours and pump some life into me with a rich variety of food and some of Sammi's famous umm-ali pudding. Somehow they even succeeded in making me smile again with their uplifting trash-talk and sweet Doo-Wop atmosphere.

It meant much to me but nevertheless, I had called it an early night and dropped onto my side of the wall. After a lengthy call with my grandparents, I decided I would take the next flight to London tomorrow morning. It was the first day I met with hope. Hope that I could disappear for a while and take some time off.

My own song played in the kitchen when I came home to my cat and I shut the radio with a sigh. 'The Lighthouse And The Ocean' was hitting the top ten charts. Not that Pedro cared. "I wonder what became of the original record I sent him." I muttered, more to myself than my cat. "Maybe he threw it in the dust bin or melted it. Maybe he made the disc a frisbee and it's lying a ditch somewhere. Stupid, he could have least sold it on eBay." I tutted.

Poentje grumbled, otherwise, everything remained quiet. My brain wasn't muddled with medication anymore. It had begun to snow outside and though I was tired, a softness I hadn't allowed to resurface before made me yearn for comfort instead of self-destruction. Sometimes, it was just you and some leftover Manakeesh against the world. This was good. Maybe I'd even touch my guitar again.

My voice had grown only weary these days. "Zuur pruim," I pouted at my cat when she turned her nose at my affections. I was in desperate need of a cuddle but she was having one of her stubborn episodes, most likely the aftermath of the rock music abuse. "We got you a ragdoll, they said, ragdolls always want to cuddle, they said," I complained, chewing and faking my insult.

A sad smile grew on my lips when I got an idea and abandoned my greasy food. "Just wait, I know exactly what you like." I left my living room, hurried up the stairs and into my closet to open a drawer and pull out the softest jumper I 'didn't' own, the grey cashmere one that belonged to Ewan and my cat adored even more than me.

Replacing it with my current piece of clothing, it dawned on me that I had a stereotypical habit of never returning my ex's clothes. But when I pulled it over my head, I immediately basked in its softness and regretted nothing.

Downstairs, Poentje's yellow orbs lit up when I emerged with one raised brow, presenting Ewan's very long-sleeved jumper like I wore it for a fashion show. "Like what you see?" I asked her and mirrored her arrogance from earlier when I strutted past her towards my sofa. My back had barely hit the cushions when my little purring machine had already climbed onto my belly and started kneading dough. "Aha," I said in triumph but my initial victorious feeling was replaced by utter sadness. I was comforted by someone who loved me no matter what.

The heartbreaking realisation that I was apart from the one person I needed it from most struck something devastating inside me and my eyes welled up with tears again. It resulted in my cat chucking up and down with the sobs I produced. Yet Poentje purred loudly and stepped onto my chest, kneading my boobs and staring at me through soothing cat eyes. I cradled her soft body and she let me squish her against my chest. "I miss him so much." I cried miserably to her but the feeling only intensified as soon as I had admitted it. My cries poured into the room until my cat got uncomfortable and bolted at the hysteria.

She looked up at me expectantly, licking her lips. I sighed. It was either taking care of her or passing out in tears again. "Why are you hungry all the time these days?" I quizzed her uselessly. "Chicken soup, how's that sound?" Poentje meowed with a high voice I knew was her agreeing statement. I sniffed and walked over towards the kitchen. Maybe I could make do with a distraction. Maybe I had some stuff I could use to make biscuits from scratch.

The little song I sang her sounded nasal and pitiful. Poentje received her dinner while I collected the ingredients for granny's famous gingerbread men and I selected a soul playlist. Every song would make me cry but I could try my best.

Hey, this was good. I could do this. I could move on. Eventually. After a while, my apron was over and over scattered with flour and bits and pieces of dough. I had made a mess out of my kitchen during my manic baking episode but it blended in perfectly with the mess around my entire living space.

Soul music continued ringing familiar tunes over towards my spacious kitchen area. Keeping myself busy was helping and made me feel less alone. Although Poentje didn't like gingerbread and I didn't know if she could even appreciate Otis Redding.

The night continued while my thoughts drifted into a fantasy realm of the potential happiness that had slipped through my fingers. If only Pedro would call back. If only he'd show up on my doorstep and let me hug him close. How often had I thought we'd finally found the one? It had been so easy to tell ourselves we were already married and were meant to be a real family one day.

I sobbed at my already tear-infused dough, wiping my eyes with a sleeve until they felt raw and puffy and then I cried some more.

Pedro deserved the world and now I knew I wouldn't be in it. He was also a huge arsehole and I imagined his stupid face in my dough as hit it with the rolling pin. "You said you'd never leave me!" Bang bang bang! Poentje jumped off the bar. All those broken promises. Lies. "Motherfucker!"

'Slip Away' started playing and I lay the pin down gently again and rolled it out evenly, cutting out my gingerbread men and painting second tray of them in butter.

I sniffed into my elbow and caught one last tear before I refused to start crying about the painfully obvious, mainly why I kept ending up alone. I had managed to fuck up every single relationship of my life but I was determined to never love again. I've had it.

The first tray of of gingerbread biscuits was waiting to cool off and I hadn't even gotten rid of my apron yet when the doorbell rang.

"Pedro?" My head shot up in hope. Maybe it was him. Whoever it was, they had to have had the code to my gate. I ran to the door and ripped it open.

Specks of snow had settled onto his coat and beanie and the warm light from the inside of my house illuminated a face I had so dearly missed and yet had dreaded to ever see again. The cold night air hit my body and still, I could have sworn the sensation of feeling solidly frozen came from being caught in his eyes.

My lack of energy didn't make me sound as surprised as I really was. "Ewan." I gasped, having never expected 'him' to show up.

Nonetheless, Ewan smiled as if the sun was radiating from inside of him. That cheeky, toothy grin of his, the kind of smile that made you think he'd invented it. "Happy Christmas, Nini. I- umm... I wasn't sure you'd be home." He said, slightly breathless.

"Hap- Happy... Christmas. What are you doing here?" I stammered, still looking down at him from the top of my stairs. It was only then that I noticed the beautifully wrapped present in his hands.

"I came to give you this." Ewan held out the present and I gingerly took it while carefully avoiding to let our hands touch.

"All the way from LA?" I replied, feeling as puzzled as ever when I looked back into his blue eyes. This was overwhelmingly awkward but he was not an unwelcome guest. "Would you like to come in?" I asked anyway, sounding a little nasal. "I wouldn't want you to freeze to death and I made gingerbread."

A somewhat strange expression appeared on his face for only a split of a second. Almost as if hurt and sorrow mingled with his surprise at my simple offer of hospitality. "I would love to." He gulped out.

I stepped aside to let him pass into the house and close the door behind him. "What was that smell?" He asked curiously. Ewan shivered out the cold clinging to his limbs. Like old friends, we greeted each other with friendly kisses on our cheeks and I smiled when he remembered the Dutch kissed each other three times.

"Rotten eggs people tend to throw these days." I excused the faint odour lingering on my porch, even after the regular cleaning service one of my friends had organised. "But it keeps the bugs away." I sarcasmed as Ewan began shrugging off his winter clothes. His hair had become somewhat floppy in the front and he ran a hand through his thick stubble. The navy blue jumper suited him. Putting his coat on the hanger to dry, he moved so naturally like he'd just done this yesterday and in a way, it was hard to imagine that he ever went away.

"Oh, yes. Christmas bugs." Ewan grinned broadly and at least made it sound like this made total sense.

My smile grew tired.

"I see you were busy. I hope I'm not intruding." Ewan noticed and I shed the kitchen gear in an awkwardly flustered way.

"No, well... at least you're not Carol singers." I joked dryly. I was still holding my oven miffs and looked down to see the mess on my apron, wishing I had put more effort into presenting myself at the door. Oh fuck, I was wearing his jumper.

"I can still sing you a Carol." Ewan promptly began teasing me in his good natured way and before I could protest, he began singing, softly and wonderfully. "In the bleak midwinter, Long, long ago-"

Grinning, I could hardly hold his gaze and I rolled my eyes about at the blush creeping up my cheeks. When he managed to catch my eyes again, he sang into my face. "Angels and Arc Angels may have travelled there." Finally, I gave in, harmonising with his tune until my voice cracked and my eyes began to sting with fresh tears.

Ewan's expression turned tender and worried. "You've been crying." Ewan noticed and I bit my lip to hold back a sob.

I nodded but refused to cry in front of him. "Pedro and I broke up," I explained the obvious and he cooed at me, rubbing my arms in a comforting way. "Yes, I... I heard. What an idiot." He remarked and I shook my head.

I somehow put up a too-brave femme fatale act to amuse us both. "It's probably okay. I live for raw emotions. Yes, I already made up my mind." I shrugged and threw my hands up. "Become a sad and possibly problematic rock star. Sex, drugs and rock'n roll. Live fast, die young, become a legend. Forever beautiful and tragic." I predicted and believed that my new year's resolutions consisted of becoming the most disastrous version of myself.

"Oh, you always were dramatic," Ewan replied with a tut, leaning in with a warm smile until I scoffed at him in a rather fond sort of grumble. "I wish I could say it'll get easier." He added.

"Life?" I asked, bitterly and let him walk me into my house while I turned my present in my hands, stopping myself from showing too much of my inner turmoil. Maybe he had come here just to go down memory lane and give me a hard time.

"Or love." Ewan laughed or maybe, just guessed. "If it's any comfort to you, I was kicked out too." He said with a sudden weariness in his voice and I frowned, turning back to him.

"Shit- the wedding?" "Paid for." "Damn." "Yeah."

"I'm so sorry. How could I feel comforted at that?" Hugging him was an impulsive reaction but it was nice and he pulled me closer with a sigh. "Yeah, me too. Shite holidays for the both of us."

"It's really good to see you though," I admitted back at arm length. Despite everything, his presence was comfort, he felt like family, like history. An old friend I didn't know I needed.

A fuzzy dark head poked out of the cat tree and began to cuddle against the fluffy little nook as soon as she saw Ewan walk in. "Oh, look who it is! Hello, Poen." He petted my cat's head and I was surprised at how loud her half purr, half meow had been. "I think she missed you." I wondered and watched her jump down towards him to practically slam herself against his leg and let him pet her. Honestly, where was the sisterhood solidarity? I crossed my arms and scolded her with a silent glare.

Poentje blinked at me and strode off to possibly find another napping spot and knock herself out on my bed upstairs.

"Tea?" I offered, finally remembering what a good host was supposed to behave like. "Yes, please," Ewan quickly replied. Walking into the kitchen area while unfastening my apron, I was only half aware that he slowly followed behind.

"It smells fantastic," Ewan noticed as I busied myself with the kettle and the selection of the tea brand I knew he liked best.

"You know my gran's recipe but oh, better don't eat any, I think I cried on most of them." I cringed at the plate of perfectly fine-looking gingerbread men.

"Should I reconsider then? Oh, wait not a chance." He looked like a child on literally Christmas Eve when he took a shaped biscuit and settled on the stool behind the kitchen counter.

I awaited his reaction as he sank his teeth into the man, biting his arm off and his eyes lit up in delight. "How are they even better than I remember?" He asked, watching me select a gingerbread man myself and chew on his head.

"I added orange zest this time. Some extra heartbreak too. Makes it oh, so sweet." My words had taken a sharp edge.

"Delicious." "Oi." I snickered with him while he profusely apologised for the really bad joke.

When the kettle was done boiling I let the tea brew in silence as if the task of dipping the bags into hot water required my fullest attention. But when it was time to add the milk, I had no excuse left to not face him again. Setting his mug in front of him, we finally took an honest look at each other and I could see he was tired and troubled. A guarded conflict stirred behind those eyes I'd sung songs about.

"Thanks." His expression was strange. He had obviously noticed that I was wearing his jumper and I sighed, not even caring about what he thought of it.

"Ewan?" I asked carefully and although he didn't answer, he was listening. "Don't get me wrong but I know when you're acting, I mean.. hiding something. You don't have to. Not with me."

It was only then that I was met with an expression which slowly betrayed a hidden sadness. Ewan took his time before he could muster a reply and I didn't push.

"You always see right through me, don't you?" he circled his mug and made little waves ripple through the milky liquid. The memory our past relationship was implied and it bothered me that he was sitting here, reviving my hurt and crumbling down my progress. It felt like bitter-sweet torture.

"Were you only just delivering a present? What are you really doing here?" I asked, poking the box with my index finger.

He looked up from his tea. "I know you just got back from a job and just broke up with someone and I will leave if you need a little peace and quiet but... My daughters are with their mum over the holidays and I.. well, I guess I wanted to see a friendly face. Thought we might both be happy with some company." After a pause to let his explanation sink in, I gave him a compassionate smile and nearly touched his hand to show him he was not alone, retreating last second. I couldn't help but feel bad I had not wasted a thought about how he might have been all this time. Turned out we were both a bit lonely while everyone else was with their families. "I'm sorry to hear that," I said, abandoning the gingerbread and cupping my mug for warmth.

"Don't be," Ewan replied softly, lifting one corner of his lips.

Secretly, I was pleased that we had gotten to a point in our post-relationship friendship where we could turn towards each other if we were two sad, abandoned singles who felt like retreating into mutual understanding. We didn't need to explain ourselves to each other, we never had to. Of course, I would be there for him if he needed me, even if it meant that I could only offer my sympathies when he had broken up with someone as well. That must have been cruel for both of them. After all, they had been planning to get married. Pedro and I had only lasted one month.

"Shall I open it?" I suggested as a change of topic, sounding a bit more cheerful as I pulled at the silver satin ribbon and raised one eyebrow. "What is it?" He chuckled and instead of giving into my inquiry, his eyes twinkled and he took a quiet sip of tea.

It was a flat box with a lid and when I had removed that too, I was met with the sparkling reflection of dainty, silver hair combs in the shape and texture of crystal daisy flowers. My breath had become a little shallow as I took in their magnificence. "Ewan, they're beautiful." I raised one of the combs from the box and noticed that it was heavier than I had thought.

I began fumbling with my messy braid and tidy it up a bit but Ewan was quick to assist. "Allow me?" He offered and I nodded. I turned my back to him while he rounded the bar and approached me from behind. Silently, I let him arrange my hair and for the first time during a very long and carefully kept distance, his fingers were touching the skin on the side of my neck. Practised fingers from years of doing his daughters' hair gathered my braid into a knot until I felt Ewan sink the combs into my hair and hold it in place.

His melodic voice behind me grew quiet, for he was right behind my ear. "I don't know what's normally the custom for what to gift one's former girlfriend but even if it's not pretty jewellery, it reminded me of you and I thought you needed to have it." I hadn't realised I had been holding my breath until I turned back to him and let him twirl my curtain fringe to shape them around my face. I was smiling before even looking up and seeing him standing right in front of me.

"Thank you," I whispered, smiling despite my slight discomfort. He was close. Way too close. I had genuine friendly platonic feelings for him and wished he wouldn't ruin it. Holding his gaze, I frowned at this suspicious behaviour. What were we doing?

Ewan took a breath as if he wanted to say something and he chose not to take my hands into his, even though I saw he would have wanted to. Instead, he took a step back and put his hands into his trouser pockets.

It was almost like shame struck him then. "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me." He nearly turned away, grinning shyly.

Finally, our mutual awkwardness relieved some of my tension. "It's okay. We're both in a vulnerable state." I accepted it and tried a step towards healing. "What happened?"

Ewan struggled to tell me but eventually, he admitted. "I heard your songs. Well, and so did my fiancée." He said, his grumpiness then changing into tenderness. "They're beautiful and I- I didn't know you had this in you- and then I got a bit too defensive about them I guess. About you."

I was torn between guilt and compassion. "Ewan, I'm so sorry. Shit, I keep ruining everything, I-" I cried but Ewan interrupted, gathering my hands in his.

"No, no, you're soaring, darling girl. Don't ever apologise. I just- I know I hurt you. You said, in your songs, how much you miss me and I couldn't bare the thought of... taking the light inside of you and it..." He shook his head. "It killed me."

My hand came to rest on his reddish bearded cheek. "You didn't take anything," But assuring him of this seemed to make him even sadder. I stopped smiling, realising the touch was too familiar.

"Here you are, treating me with kindness when we both know I didn't deserve it." He replied, taking my hand from resting on the side of his face to hold it. "When I rang your doorbell, I didn't know what to expect. Maybe that you would turn me away and slam the door but-" his voice cracked. "-you invited me in for... gingerbread." The waterlines in Ewan's eyes were shimmering when he finally looked up again. He had laughed out those last pair of words and the raw emotion in his voice had caused a tear to run down my cheek.

Ewan saw it before I had a chance to wipe it away. "I'm sorry." He told me. "I seem to keep doing that."

My voice sounded strange to my ears. "Yes, you are." A moment, in which we both didn't know what to say passed through us.

This was the difference between Ewan and Pedro. Ewan made me feel small and delicate in a way I couldn't imagine being anything but perfect and sensitive for him in every way. With Pedro, I had allowed my faults to surface unfiltered because I knew he accepted me with all of my layers, and let me be vulnerable the way I needed to be. I used to cut parts of myself off in a destructive manner to fit into the person I was before but that wasn't possible anymore because I found that nothing was like it used to be

I chuckled. "What happened to the good old, 'I miss you' text from your ex?" I guessed.

Ewan joined in with my restrained laugh. For a moment, it seemed like bitterness and regret had struck him. He took a moment to gather his courage. "He does... miss you." "Ewan-" "More than you think." I didn't know what to say but he beat me to it anyway. He gulped heavily. "You're right. I'm not... I'm not over you."

"No." I frowned, not believing him and looked down at our hands to pull mine back and hug myself. "You might miss me more than you remember me." I turned away when his presence started to hurt again. It was true, I had just taken it as a fact that I had closed this chapter of my life. Why was he telling me this?

Our eyes met, mine hazy, his begging me to listen. "I miss your laugh, your jokes... your kindness. The way you sing when you're busy or the creative, yet absolute mess you leave behind in every room." We looked at the kitchen and both cracked up a smile at the evidence. "I remember, all the things I did not appreciate enough... and which memory only seem to be opening my eyes now that they're gone."

I closed mine so I could gather a clear thought. "Where were you six months ago to tell me that? I can't do this anymore."

"I didn't know what I wanted." "Yes, you did. You wanted to get married!" "And you wanted to be with Pedro." "Maybe it only means we both tend to drive our partners away cruelly."

Ewan shrugged with a nearly cocky smile playing on his lips. "Seems like we could make a good pair after all." He concluded.

I let out a deep breath, shaking my head at him. "We deserve more than being each other's consolation, not feel like the unclaimed prize at some kind of wheel of fortune." I tried to reason. We just weren't meant to be.

"I know." Ewan sighed and I felt his hand on my arm, thumb gently brushing against his jumper. Slowly, he started to speak. "But just know- there's no one like you, you're so sweet and gentle and... funny. You're a big win, never a consolation prize." He said, sincere and uplifting.

"Thank you." It made me smile, yet I sighed and channelled my last bit of humour. "And here I thought you were living your life. I should have told you that in case you ever have a bad day, just remember you were a sensitive topic in my relationship."

It made him chuckle a little and it grew on me, warming me up inside.

I could finally breathe more freely and left his proximity, realising I wasn't being myself. I didn't want Ewan here and my voice finally showed it. "I used to think you left a hole in my life but I have just begun healing things that haf already been messed up with... light and happiness and with lasagna with an enye," I argued, bordering on grief.

Ewan didn't understand, of course, but he didn't ask either. I thought about the happiest time of my life and bubbling laughter and about the easiness and freedom I had never experienced with another person before. None of those feelings could be provoked by Ewan. They belonged to Pedro and me. "Now that's over too but you know me, right? I don't know how to let go."

It was all too much. I paced the room, feeling hot and cold and itchy. Slight panic crept onto me and I circled my bracelet around my wrist in a hurry.

"I feel dizzy," I admitted and felt my body tilt forward. Ewan caught me and held me up by my arms. "Please, let me help you sit down."

With what felt like clouds in my lightheaded mind, I smiled at the way he spoke with a soft Scottish lilt. It was in this moment of weakness that I wanted to just row back and fall into his arms. Return to what I assumed would be easy and familiar. Numbed down and perfectly content in docility.

Ewan directed me towards the living room area and I sat me down on my sofa. He left to grab something from the kitchen and sat right next to me as soon as he returned. I accepted the glass of cool tap water but recoiled at the faint smell of chlorine. "Thank you," I said anyway and forced myself to take a sip.

I wiped away another tear when I continued to spill my heart out. "I just wish I didn't have a heart at all. You said it yourself, I shouldn't loved you either."

"No, Nini-" "Yes, that's what you said." I was close to sobbing and I let myself be held by him.

"But it's not what I meant." He spoke in such earnestness I could almost believe him.

Ewan let his hand rest on my lower back to offer me comfort. "I said it because I was absolutely crazy about you and calling it off was the hardest thing to do because it was unfair to you. Maybe if I hadn't been such an arse, we would still... if you could ever forgive me-"

"Oh, why are you saying these things? I accepted your apology already." I gasped for words. Have mercy.

I turned away from him with a laugh. "I poured my love into that song when I wrote it but it wasn't a recent feeling, let me be clear. I published 'Blue Eyes' because it's a good song." I had almost had enough. "Ewan, what do you want from me?"

He looked at me with sad eyes. "I can't bear to see you hurt." he began. "And I had to know how you felt about me." I had to take myself away from him because I couldn't pretend there were only cold feelings between us. I knew I could have done worse than loving him.

I couldn't escape his gravity but the memories and feelings kept coming back. My head sank onto his shoulder so softly. I could just give in, I was nearly there. Why did I let him card his fingers through my hair and kiss the top of my head like this? Why did I let my body sink against his body and return to him when it made me feel homesick for a place I would never see again? Did he think he could just turn up out of the blue and expect me to start things over when whom I really wanted was Pedro... I wasn't considering it... I wasn't- I was so sad, I would die for the feeling of being loved again.

Regret, that we had lost us too. Now we were in the same boat. Both, desperate to revert into comfort. We would kiss and everything would go back to the way it was.

With all the strength I had left, I broke our longing gaze and lifted my body up and away from him. "Ewan, we can't do this. I can't tear open an old wound, can't risk another heartbreak." I whispered and turned my face the other way and yet, I felt a hand tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. He caressed my cheek with the back of his fingers afterwards, like he had done so many times before.

"I understand." He smiled and his voice sounded so pleasantly smooth when he spoke beside me. "I know I will never deserve you but if there's one thing I don't regret, it's the time spent with you. I would have not gone back home if there had been even the smallest chance that you had wanted this."

Our eyes met and I remembered the way I had looked at him more than ten years ago. Adoring, for there was nobody whom I had loved for so long. I touched his face with such slight and tiny butterfly caresses and then my hand smoothed out the hair on the side of his head.

The devil on my shoulder told me that kissing Ewan could never feel as wrong as it should. His nose was tilted at mine and my breath must have grazed his for a second. Maybe my downfall would be my fault because I was dangerously close to kissing him. He would push me back into the cushions. He would kiss me like he had come back and he would taste like tea and gingerbread.

Our bodies gravitated towards one another and as I leaned in, I felt him drowning out all of the alarms that had been ringing inside me. Could we really try again? It could feel serene, numbing. Would I even care if I made the same mistake twice? His eyes flickered down to my lips and he carefully closed the distance. We could try.

Wait a minute. Rewind.

A mere inch away from his lips, my eyes shot up and I felt the gears turn in my head. Promptly, I pushed myself away by a hand firmly placed on his chest. "Not go back? Wait, did you or did you not break up with your fiancée for a chance to get back together with me or-" I was about to pass this as a stupid thought when I caught a glimpse in his eyes. They darted to the side and the way he looked at me afterwards and didn't respond spoke a thousand volumes. His body had tensed up and he failed to speak the truth or even exhale.

The strand of hair fell back in my face as I tilted my head in disbelief.

"Oh.. my god." I suddenly felt repulsed and got away from him. "You didn't break up with her at all! You're still engaged? And you're here trying to kiss me? What the fuck is wrong with you?" I cried out angrily.

He tried to hold me back by my elbow. "Just one word from you and I will call off the wedding."

I shrugged him off. 'Homewrecker', the last point on my list of faults. "Oh, no! Nooo no no, no. This cannot be happening again. You know what? That's it." I jumped up and leaned over him, spitting out my rage. "I can't believe I almost fell for that twice. I was this close-" I showed him how close by bringing my fingers an inch apart together. "-to let myself be wrapped around your finger again, letting you into my life- my... my bed- while a hurt woman is sitting at home, hoping she's the only one for you. Am I supposed to feel flattered?" I practically yelled out.

I threw my hands up. "Well, if this is closure, then it's a good thing." Strangely, I felt nothing but release. All this tension, heavy weight and guilt fell off my shoulders as they shook with a cold, ironic kind of laughter. Count myself deluded, he hadn't changed one bit. Oh, I was so done with him.

"Why?"

"Because you're a fucking ocean and I'm an ocean and we can't be a lighthouse for each other."

"What? Darling-" he began but I interrupted him, emphasising each word. "Don't darling me." I bit out. He had gotten up and it was obvious that I was inviting him to leave my house. "You should go back to your fiancée and if you have any decency, ask her to forgive you for deeming her one aspect of your choices. Or ask yourself if you're doing her or yourself a favour by getting married at all." I was finally putting a bullet into the head of our relationship. This wasn't the storm after the calm, this was the dying breath of whatever past we shared.

"I see, if this is the wrong time-" his silly excuse was interrupted by my moment of clarity.

"It's never the wrong time, it's just the wrong person." I closed my eyes against my palm, letting the truth sink in. This meant the right person at the wrong time was still the right person. Oh, Pedro. I was such a fool.

I sobbed out, desperately aware of whom I let simply leave. "I love Pedro and I met this person, you know this person I want to take care of and am comfortable with like I've known him my whole life and I don't have to pretend anymore, be something I'm not or be... anything. I've never- I've never cried so much because I finally thought I knew what true love was." I spoke through tears.

Of all people, I wouldn't have guessed that Ewan would be so moved by my outburst. His lips had parted as he truly reflected upon my heartbreak and seeing the tears forming in his eyes only made my cry harder and uglier. "Pedro said he loved me and I turned him out." I balled my hands into fists. "I loved him since the first time we met and I will love him forever and I wouldn't have it any other way."

A moment of silence and defeat wavered into the room, in which I sniffed my tears away.

"You need to go to him," Ewan said and I looked up from my hands.

"What?" I asked dumbly and found myself at the receiving end of a soft, compassionate smile.

"Tell him you love him. If the man has two wits together, he will beg you to take him back immediately." Ewan said. My gaze flickered back and forth, trying to find the lie in his eyes. "It's very clear to me. You both want to be with each other. What are you waiting for?" He said like it was just that easy.

Well, could he be right? Neither Pedro nor I could ever feel complete again. If I just vowed my undying love then, maybe...

Slowly, I started nodding. "You're right." Determination clawed at my bones. My skin felt antsy. "I'm going to tell Pedro I love him."

Ewan was properly grinning now. "There, that's the Nini I know."

I huffed out a confused laugh and was about to leave immediately when I smelt something burning. "Damnit, the biscuits!"

"Fuck the biscuits! I'll deal with it. You go." He ushered me away from the kitchen.

"Thank you," I said, hectic and passionately and kind of, still mad at his audacity. "For making me realise what's important. Show yourself out!" I threw back over my shoulder as I ran towards the door.

"Nini, wait!" "Hell, what now?" "A coat, put on a coat!" Ewan called after me and I yanked the first coat off the hanger I could find and jammed my feet into a random pair of boots.

"Goodbye, Ewan!" I slammed the door behind me, skittering to a halt at the edge of a pavement covered with a thin layer of snow.

"Taxi!" I screamed and put myself in harm's way to make it stop in the middle of the street. The driver honked at me but I had already ripped open the door and climbed in to shuffle into the seat and tell the him to push it. "To Red Hook! Go go go!"

I would knock on his door, I would knock it down if I had to, I'd cry out how much I loved him, that I wanted to share my life with him- should I have brought a ghetto blaster?

We were driving too slow, the traffic was riling up my nerves but I had a smile stretched from ear to ear when jumped to the edge of my seat. We were nearly there.

"Stop the car!" I ordered my driver and he looked back in confusion. "Ma'am?" "I said stop. I'm walking." I paid the man a hundred dollars and moved out of the taxi to run the last block while trying not to stumble across my open laces.

But just when I turned around the corner into his street, I was stopped dead in my track. My feet came to a skittering halt and the shock ran down my spine colder than the winter's chill.

There he was.

I saw Pedro walk down the road and I stared for a while as the world around me disappeared.

It was unmistakably him and he looked so well. Pedro was walking down the street towards me, to his apartment building with an umbrella in his hand and a gorgeous woman hooked onto his arm, shielding her from the snow as they talked and laughed.

My lips parted as I took in the scene before me. She was so pretty, young, with dark hair and long legs, a model beauty queen. Each carried a grocery bag under their arm and she leaned into Pedro who was grinning about something she said. He draped his arm around her shoulders and she gave him a long kiss on his cheek as she held his cloudless face in her palm. His hand rested on her back affectionately when they shared a laughter. My heart shattered anew.

I was cold but I shivered for a different reason. They walked inside, not noticing I stood here, nor anything around them.

I remained in the dark, freezing, undetected, watching them enter the building and disappear into the warm light with smiles on their beautiful faces.

The orange glow of the city lights got reflected in the white streets. The snow fell tantalising slow from the heavens as the innocent intruders on earth that they were.

I stood there for several more moments longer to digest what I had just seen. Pedro was fine, more than just fine apparently. What did I expect? He was a handsome and kind man, he could have anyone. It couldn't have been hard for him to find someone new fairly quickly. Too late. I was too late.

Looking up the snowfall without explanation, I wished it was me up there. All those white specks swam before my vision, spiralling down the black sky and circling so perfectly among their kind and yet so alone in their journey. I stared at the descending frost and could finally relate to their short existence as I imagined all the things I should have said and done to prevent this. As I caught a snowflake, I watched it melt in my hand and it was the saddest thing I'd ever seen.

I turned and felt numb as I walked home in whiteness, dragging my feet down the street and not caring about the world any longer once it had stopped turning. Walking along the empty street, my eyelids flickered like the movies, in a screening of my dream that had slipped out of reach.

~

Part 26

Translation notes:

(dut): Zuur prium - (eng): grump

[lazysoulwriter]

Morning Whisper - Pedro Pascal.

words: 869 The morning sunlight streams through the curtains, warm and golden, casting a glow over the bedroom. Pedro stirs beside you, his arm lazily draped over your waist, pulling you closer as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. His scruff grazes your skin, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. “Good morning,” he murmurs, his voice raspy and low, still heavy with sleep. Before you can respond, his lips find yours in a slow, languid kiss that melts away any grogginess you were feeling. His hand moves to cradle the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair as he deepens the kiss, his warmth enveloping you completely. You smile against his lips, feeling his own curve in response. “What’s gotten into you?” you tease, your breath hitching slightly as he trails soft kisses along your jaw. “Couldn’t help myself,” he whispers, his tone playful but edged with a hunger that makes your heart race. “You’re too tempting in the morning.” His lips find yours again, and the world outside the bedroom ceases to exist. It’s just the two of you, tangled in each other, savoring the quiet intimacy of a new day.

[creedslove]

BETRAYED - PART ONE

Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Summary: Pedro invites you to be his plus one for the night but his attention is caught by another woman and leaves you with a broken heart

Warnings: angst, age gap, established friendship, unrequited love/one sided feelings, Pedro being kind of a dick, drinking

1.2k words

PART TWO is here

You bit your lips when you saw your own reflection in the mirror, twirling softly as you analyzed yourself in the high couture dress the stylish team had picked exactly for you. After weeks of insistence, Pedro finally convinced you to be his plus one in an event. You'd been close for a long time and you always made sure to support him, attending events and premieres with special invitations he gave you, but never walking down the red carpet. You both knew it would just send everybody the wrong idea, and as his popularity was really high, you all agreed it wouldn't be a great idea to spark rumors and gossip, especially at how private he'd always been about his personal life.

However, after all the support you gave him, Pedro knew you deserved some of the glamour he was living and without exposing you to the media and all the lack of privacy that could lead, he picked a smaller event, a magazine cocktail ou gala, something like that, you weren't so sure. One there wouldn't be a red carpet per se, but rather a gala with a real nice dinner for the guests and a nice party to enjoy afterwards. There would be photographers, sure, but once inside, there was no way to point fingers at whoever was each other's plus ones.

The man really wanted you to have the whole experience, so he required his team of stylists to treat you like a real princess. He knew you deserved it, not only for the friendship you two had, but also as a way of trying to forget the guilt he felt every time he thought of how he probably broke your heart.

Pedro wasn't blind, ever since you became really close friends, he knew the affection, the words and the actions you had towards him meant something else, but he always chose to pretend not to notice, after all, no matter how incredible you were, he didn't feel the same. Yes, you were gorgeous, you were smart and amazing, but he just didn't feel that sparkle, and the fact you were a lot younger than he was didn't count on your relationship's favor. He was able to act as if he didn't know your feelings for him grew each passing day, until you being a lot braver than he could ever be, decided to come clean and open up about how you really felt. He hated himself for being honest and telling you in the best way he could find your feelings were one sided. It took you a couple of weeks to let it sink until you were able to act normal around him again. You loved Pedro and you would rather be around him as only friends, keeping your hopes high than being away from him. It wasn't healthy, but that was the way. Pedro also got relieved when he saw he didn't lose you, just because he didn't love you romantically, it didn't mean he didn't love you as a friend and cherished your friendship.

Once you were ready, he knocked on the door and walked in, smiling big at the sight of you in your pretty dress and took a step closer

"You're gorgeous Y/N… a real princesa"

he said in his accent which made you blush. You also took a look at him up and down and nodded, approving the look that was picked for him

"You look great as well, Pedrito" you smiled at him, though the butterflies in your stomach never stopped, no matter how hard you tried to pretend they did.

He offered you his arm and both went to the car together.

The event went smoothly, way better than you anticipated, there was no red carpet and though the photographers snapped pictures of him, no one bothered you. You didn't pay much attention to the theme of the gala and nor the speeches delivered, you paid attention to Pedro and how well he got along with people, always friendly and bringing smiles to everybody's face when he was around.

By the time the party was going on, the music was loud, people were dancing and you and Pedro were not sparing any drinks from the open bar, it was your turn to leave the dance floor and get yourselves another drink, so you interrupted your dance and smiled at him before going to the bar. You sighed at the amount of people in front of you and had no other choice but to stand in line to pick your beverages. You knew you'd take a while to return, but once you had the two glasses in hand you didn't expect to see him dance with another woman. Hell, you didn't expect to see him dance like that with another woman. Her body was glued to his and it was obvious to everyone they were just humping each other than doing dance steps. His hand was on her hips as she moved against his body, leaving no space between them. You stopped dead on tracks, watching the grotesque scene, as a hole formed in your chest. There wasn't any other word that could describe it better. At the first sight it was an intense pang, jealousy, sadness and anger heated up your body and raced your heart, but then, no matter how you didn't want to watch the scene, you also felt unable to look away, you became numb. There was just an emptiness inside of your heart and then you were able to turn your back to them and head back for the table.

It took all your willpower not to cry, but you wouldn't give him or anyone the taste of shedding tears over that, let alone in a room full of people you didn't know. You just finished the two drinks and remained in silence, wondering if you should just go home or drink more.

You were about to head for the bar another time when Pedro rushed to you, he was panting and smiled at you clueless, there was a soft flush on his cheeks and he held his suit jacket strategically on front of his lap, probably hiding the tent he got there.

"Hey, Y/N… honey, listen, I told you I'd take you home but something came up…" he scratched the back of his head "so if it's alright if you, maybe you can go home on your own? Text me when you get there so I know you arrived safely, okay? We'll talk tomorrow" he said in a rush and left a quick peck on your cheek, before turning your back to you and walking to the woman he was dancing with, taking her by the hand and quickly disappearing out of the door.

Only when your Uber arrived, you finally allowed yourself to let those tears fall, not even when he straight up told you to your face he didn't love you back, you felt as rejected and humiliated as that night. You hated that woman without even knowing her and you hated him for doing that to you.

In the early morning, Pedro left you a text asking if you'd arrived home safely, to which you didn't reply, you just silenced your phone and tried going back to sleep, so you'd forget about everything that happened.

-----

A/N: I hope you liked it!!!

[henrycangelbaby]

In which: “It's not that the amount of love I had changed, but I feel so proud about it now, like that I want to shout from the rooftops and tell everyone of my loved ones how much I love my wife, MY wife, ya know?”

Or

An interview gives unique insight into Pedro Pascal and his vast amount of love for his wife

I make my way through meeting the cast of HBO's unexpected hit “The Last Of Us” rather easily.

Bella Ramsey lives in a far nicer apartment in London than anything I would have been able to afford at the same age. Despite their fame and talent, they remain settled and down to earth, dressed in an outfit a little too cool for me to understand and eager to show me around their lovely apartment that is decorated in a way that I quite liked but I'm sure my baby boomer father would find offensive. I even end up meeting Ramsey's girlfriend, a fellow actor (who I admittedly had never heard of) who is equally as young and pretty as Ramsey is. They are both lovely and down to earth, a sentiment I don't often find relatable working with celebrities.

Kaitlin Denver is in her late 20s and still looks like she could be in high school. She lives in a shared house with her sister, whom she also shares a music career with. Despite the controversy surrounding her character in the show, she seems to remain completely unfazed by the backlash and threats that surround Abby Anderson. Denver merley shrugs when I ask her how she deals with it, leaving me to assume her vices when it comes to dealing with unprecedented hate.

I meet other stars of the show too. Gabriel Luna has all the southern charm of Tommy Miller and more, making me question whether he really does any acting when playing the sweeter, younger Texan brother. Isabela Merced is very beautiful in person and is also far shorter than I had imagined. What she lacks in height she makes up for in personality and charm.

Of course, when you think of the stars of The Last Of Us, there is probably someone else that comes to mind. Securing an interview with Pedro Pascal is probably one of the harder things I have had to do in recent years. It's not that Pacal is hard to come by; in fact, in recent years we haven't been able to escape him. I originally doubted that I would even be able to secure an interview with the internet's "daddy." Pascal has had a busy few years, and this one is no different. With multiple projects coming out this year, including the new season of The Last Of Us and his highly anticipated entry into the MCU as the iconic Richard Reed, it seems that everyone wants a piece of him. While all the other actors on this list do have notable careers outside of the show, the point of this interview series was to be able to interview the main cast members of the show in anticipation for the new season; however, I found that same sentiment hard to carry across when interviewing Pascal. I don't want to spoil the show for anyone, but I will just say that he won't be back next season. Whether that's due to internal conflicts or simply being too booked, we’ll never know.

I was rather ecstatic to receive a phone call from someone on his team letting me know the time and date for our interview. Like normal, I'm given an NDA to sign before receiving any personal information, such as his address (which I did require for the purpose of the interview). But everything else seems to go off without a hitch. 

I was admittedly nervous to meet him. In the best way possible, his reputation definitely proceeds him. Pascal is only ever described as kind, loving, funny, and any other positive synonyms for a massive sweetheart that you can think of. I personally have been a big fan of his work since he played forever thirsted over narcos agent Javier Paner. I know they say you shouldn't meet your idols (and trust me, I've had my fair share of heartbreaking realizations that someone I once admired is actually a piece of shit), but I had high hopes for meeting Pedro. And I am happy to report that it did not disappoint. 

I arrived at his home in Los Angeles ten minutes earlier than I should have. Not that I'm kept waiting, as before I can get a second knock in on the door, a young woman flings it open, smiling at me tightly. She quickly lets me in, introducing herself as Pascal's assistant, offering me tea or coffee, and ushering me to sit down on the comfy-looking couch while I wait for her boss to arrive (which she insists should not be too long). I take a moment to look around the room while I'm waiting. The room is sweet and welcoming, much like the rest of the home, which feels very well... homely (like stepping into your best friend's house and chatting with their parents at the dinner table). It's a hard feeling to describe, such a sense of nostalgia from a place that I had never been in before. It feels fitting though that a man so beloved as Pedro Pascal should have a home that feels so nice. I snoop to get a closer look at the photos that hang up on the walls and sit on cabinets. Most of them seem normal. There are a few faces I recognize within the photos; Oscar Iscac can be spotted alongside a younger-looking Pascal in one of the photos on the wall. I spot John Favro amongst a few people in a photo that looks to have been taken on the set of The Mandelorian, but apart from that, the photos seem normal. They depict family and friends in various places over various years; it appears that Pascal cherishes his relationships with loved ones above all else. 

I'm stopped in my snooping by another face in one of the photos, a face I recognize instantly, a face that has been all over the internet and tabloids for some time now. Pedro's wife. The photo is the first one in which she features prominently, sitting alongside what I can only assume to be one of her husband's sisters. It's a sweet photo, one that I can imagine Pedro was on the other side of, grinning wildly while taking. Y/N Pascal is an elusive figure that the media and her husband's fans have been trying to know better for a few years now. She is what is best described as a "normie," that is to say that she is just like you and me; that is perhaps what makes her so interesting to fans. She doesn't appear to have any ties to the industry; she isn't some big-wig producer's daughter; in fact, despite their insistence, fans have been unable to find anything on her. She has no public social media accounts, no company profiles online, and no one she went to high school with has come forward with a tik tok horror story (yet!). The couple are shrouded in mystery; no one seems to know how they met, where Y/N is from, or even the highly shrouded question of her age. She certainly appears younger than Pascal by a good few years, and I'm sure that I could find thousands of posts online speculating (or being downright nasty) about how young she is. But out of respect for the happy couple, I leave it a mystery. 

The sharp heels of the sensible shoes that Pascal's assistant is wearing suddenly come back into earshot. She warns me to be ready with my stuff as “they” will be home soon. I don't think twice about her words before hauling ass back to the couch and trying to pull myself together. It's not long before I hear the front door open. Amy (Pascal's assistant that I had only just remembered the name of) runs to the door. I walk slower behind awkwardly, not wanting to intrude (despite the fact that I had spent the last ten minutes snooping around what was essentially a stranger's house). I peek round the corner to be greeted with Pascal's broad back. He is facing away from me, talking to his assistant lowly. His assistant finishes speaking and moves past me, wishing me luck in passing. Pascal doesn't turn around to greet me yet; in fact, he drops down onto one knee to reveal to my utmost shock his wife. Neither of them pay me any mind as he begins untying her shoes for her, ever the gentleman everyone believes he is. 

It's not a second later that the man of the hour turns around to greet me. He smiles widely at me, and I find myself blushing slightly at his unwavering eye contact as he introduces himself. He only introduces himself by his first name, not something I find often when meeting famous people; they are often eager to give me the name that everyone knows and loves them by. It seems a bit of a strange phenomenon in Hollywood that has missed Pascal. His wife then steps forward to introduce herself. I hate to be the bearer of bad news to the millions of jealous fans, but Y/N Pascal is strikingly beautiful; even as I meet her in her own home with no makeup, she glows ethereally with a striking smile that looks like it belongs on the cover of a magazine. In that moment meeting her I quickly see why Pascal holds her in such admiration.

Much to my disappointment, that is the first and last time I see her during the interview. Pedro ushers her away somewhere out of sight with a protective arm around her shoulder. I can hear him mutter to her lowly, promising to be quick. Before kissing her goodbye with an "I love you." It makes my heart ache with a longing. Much like the rest of the internet, I wish I had a man like Pedro Pascal. We chat for a while, while exploring his house, he speaks passionately about his career, which he clearly loves. He has a flame behind his eyes as he speaks about his long-winded love for the cinema. He tells me stories of his famous friends that are featured on his walls. We laugh together, and he very much reminds me of an old friend. Even though I should be interviewing him, I let him talk, rambling on about things that I didn't find important enough to put in this interview, but they certainly put a smile on my face. 

The house is beautiful; it's decorated nicely and feels authentic and homely. It's not massive, not overly obnoxious in the way many celebrity houses are; it's still big, the kind of size that screams loving family. I don't mean to make assumptions, but it almost feels like it's been brought with the idea of a growing family in mind. I complement the house easily. Pedro smiles at me. For the first time in the interview, he refers to his wife. He tells me that he hadn't cared where they lived; “anywhere is home when you are with someone that you love,” but insists that she had loved the house the moment they first saw it. "She has better taste than me,” he tells me with a loving glint in his eye. "She did a good job.” I compliment, he nods and smiles, "always thought I was biased 'cause I’m married to her, but glad to know it's not just me." I feel awfully privileged to get an insight into Pedro's fondness of his wife. It's not often that he speaks about her publicly; she gets mentioned in passing during interviews and is often spotted at events with him, safely away from the cameras, but it's clear to the general public that his marriage is a part of his life that he wishes to keep away from public scrutiny. 

Its towards the end of the interview that I do ask him about his marriage. We walk past a wedding photo that depicts him and his lovely bride squashed together on one seat, smiling widely at the camera. He doesn't say anything when he notices me peering at the photo. I ask him carefully if he thinks being a married man has changed him. He ponders for a second. "Probably,” he answers me carefully. It's not the response I had expected from him, so I quickly encourage him to go on. "I suppose it has in a way,” he continues. “It's not that the amount of love I had changed, but I feel so proud about it now, like that I want to shout from the rooftops and tell everyone of my loved ones how much I love my wife, MY wife, ya know?” I smile and nod at his explanation. I understand what he is saying—such a sweet sentiment that it makes my heart warm. 

We don't speak for much longer after that; he briefly mentions a few upcoming projects, which he seems excited for. I ask him what he has planned next, after his next few big projects are done. He hesitates for a second. “Truthfully,” he says, “I plan on taking a step away for a bit.” I ask if he wants to settle down more. “Yeah, that's part of it; I mean, I’m not getting any younger.” He tells me, “Things are changing soon, and I just want to be settled with my family.” He finishes. I wonder for a moment what he is referring to when he mentions these soon changes; I don't ponder on it too long; much like a crazed fan, I have a few theories floating around in my head. 

We wrap up the interview from there; he is as polite and gracious as he has been the entire time, shaking my hand and thanking me for my time. I try to thank him for the interview and for letting me into his house, but he simply shakes his head at me, insisting it was his pleasure. He disappears soon after that, saying he has something to attend to (and speed walking in the direction that his wife disappeared to). I'm left to see myself out; I don’t snoop too much after I’m left alone. I make my way back to the front of the house, peering around as I go. I peek inside one room that appears to be in the middle of some kind of renovation or do-over. There are multiple pieces of yet-to-be put together furniture on the ground as the walls look to be in the middle of being painted a pastel purple color. 

I’m about to leave when something catches my eye—on the table by the front door, which has various bits and bobs scattered over it, but none of these catch my eye. I step closer to get a clearer view of what appears to be a small black and white photo. I quickly realize what it is: tucked beneath the wallet I had seen Pedro place down before our interview began is an ultrasound. I smile knowingly as my theory is proven correct; the Pascal family is about to be adding another member. 

Congratulations to Pedro as his wife on the upcoming addition to their family.

[avenging-fandoms]

This is so minuscule and lame but I like to think Pedro would be the type of man that would always make sure he’s holding your hand or has his hand on your waist / back for all scenarios

Like when he has to walk ahead of you, he puts his hand behind his back with a little grabby motion for you to hold onto

Or if you let go of his hand, he frowns

If you need to pass through a crowd, he guides you with his hand on your lower back

He’s such a goofball and sweetheart it’s hard NOT to think of these little things 🫣

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

You got out of the limo a little after Pedro who waited for you on the curb. You thank the driver and follow behind Pedro who started walking down the red carpet. You watched his heels and he put his hands behind his back, waving his fingers.

You smile and walk a little faster, grabbing his hand and he brings you next to him. You walk with him and stand in front of the background, his hand holding onto your waist with your hand on top of his.

Pedro bent down to whisper in your ear, hand moving to your lower back, very low. "There's thousands of people here, but you're the only one who took everyone's breath away" He pulls his head up and you smile at him, rolling your eyes.

"You say that every red carpet, Pedro"

"Because it's true" He winks and you shake your head, giving him a quick kiss before you two walked further down the red carpet, and you two were sent to an interviewer.

You held a microphone with your right hand and Pedro's hand in your left, putting your hands behind your back as you two spoke to the interviewer. Midway through, you dropped your hand with Pedro's to move your hair out of your face and Pedro visibly pouted.

Pedro placed his hand on your butt, rubbing up to your back. You two finished the interview and walked away, Pedro's eyes still sad. "Is it because I fixed my hair?" The corner of his mouth curled up. "Pedro it was stuck to my lip gloss!"

"Excuses, excuses. You don't love me" He sighed dramatically and you laugh, stopping when you hit a pile of people. You look up at Pedro and he nods, his hand firmly on your back with his right hand gesturing forward. He kept you close to him as he excused you two through the crowd, making sure you weren't stepped on or bumped.

Once you two made it through the crowd, you moved your fingers in between his, Pedro smiling at you and kissing you before taking you inside. "Do you want a drink?" He whispered in your ear and you smile.

"Wine" You whisper and he hums, knowing what wine did to you. "I think later, you're going to start feeling sick and have to go home, and I'll have to be your nurse"

"I think.. my stomach is hurting now. You better take me to the bathroom and help me feel better" He winked but failed, making you laugh and kiss him all over his cheek. "Is there lipstick all over my face?"

"My kiss marks, yes"

"Perfect" He grabs your chin and kisses you again, heading to the bar to get you both a drink. You took sneaky pictures of him then when he caught you, then pictures of the both of you. "Send me all of those, one of them will be my new wallpaper" He mumbled into your shoulder and you smile, rubbing his thigh.

[misserabella]

comin in hot with a twt link! (Dont know if i did wrong or not im new to these ^^) Idk if you write for din djarin or not but i can just imagine him doing this as he takes out his frustrations on your pussy cause the bounty went sideways. but this could also be seen as joel if a smuggling deal went wrong. Your pick! <3 much love!!

https://twitter.com/OrgasmGifs/status/1619378756648574978?t=XxqL71XHdg891aZOifJB5g&s=19

oh lord, this is pure filth. 😭😮‍💨

din djarin x fem reader!

minors don’t interact, +18 content!

cw; rough sex, choking, manhandling, dirty talking, degradation, praising, piv sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, cockwarming, dom! din x sub! reader, nipple playing, name calling (whore, slut…), …

“fuck.” your eyes shot open when you heard something crashing on the salon, along with the voice of who you recognized was din, your boyfriend.

your eyes still felt heavy with sleep, but your mind was slowly coming alive as you got up from bed.

“din?” you called out for him, he was giving you his back, armor still on except for his helmet—which he had thrown across the room—. he looked exhausted, but mostly of all exasperated, furious.

he didn’t seem to have heard you, and you stepped closer. “din, what’s-“ but before you knew it, there was a hand pinning your wrists to the wall behind your back and another surrounding your neck. from your lips fell a gasp that got caught in between his as he furiously kissed you. he groaned, pushing you harder against the wall, all air leaving your lungs. he was kissing you as if you were the last thing he could hold onto.

“din, what’s going-” you moaned when his clothed thigh pushed in between your naked ones, roughly pressing against your panties and your cunt. your hands messed with his hair and tugged when he freed your wrists and pulled your shirt upwards ‘till your bare chest was exposed for him to lick and suck onto.

“shut the fuck up.” he ordered, quieting you, letting you know what you needed to do, and that was to close your mouth and take what he gave you. and if what he needed to gave you was his anger, his frustration, and stress. you will take it.

you whimpered when his lips sucked on your nipple, the hand that now stood free grabbing at your hip to grind you on his thigh, making you sigh and whine, your panties growing wetter and wetter at his roughness.

“din…” you begged, and he groaned on your chest, sucking bruises that now beautifully decorated your perfect tits.

in a swift motion he was manhandling you with his strong arms, pulling you back into your room and pinned you onto the bed under his weight. it was rough, the way he kissed you, the way he pulled off your shirt, the way his hands were digging on your skin. but it hurt so good…

“fuck.” he muttered against your nipples when a high pitched and pornographic moan left your lips as his fingers sneaked inside your panties and met your wet core, his fingertips dripping on you.

your hips jolted against his touch when he teased you, his fingers dipping on your slick and merely brushing your clit, making your whole body shake in need. need for him.

“din please…” you begged, and he smirked.

“what a good girl…” he muttered against your neck as his fingertips pressed against your clit, making sparks fill your vision. “such good manners…” you whimpered, the praise only making you eager for him, needier. “being so good to me.” you screamed when he suddenly plunged two of his thick fingers inside of you, immediately finding your g spot. you couldn’t help but arch your bag, your eyes shutting close as he started to fuck them in and out of you. “listen to her…” he smirked, his dick painful hard in between his thighs at the sounds your cunt was making for him, sticky and perfectly ready for him to fuck into. “so ready for me…” you moaned, your cheeks burning due to the sounds that your arousal surrounding his fingers made.

“din…” you sighed his name, your hips rocking onto his fingers, needing him deeper. needing him to go harder, treat you badly, love you in that harsh way that made your mind reel… you were whimpering as he split you open with his fingers, brushing your g spot with every curl of his digits. it was needy, and harsh, it almost hurt, but you couldn’t possibly need him anymore than this. your whole body was like a magnet begging for his touch, needing him to touch you.

his patience seemed to be running out as he saw you fall apart, his cock pressed against your thigh as he grasped at your tits, tugging at the nipples just like he knew you liked.

the air in your lungs disappeared when in a quick flip he had down on your stomach, his rough hand landing a harsh spank to your ass, making you jolt and hiss.

in between the dizziness and hunger that enveloped you, you heard him push down his pants and underwear, too far gone to even care about the fact that you were beautifully naked under him and he was still on his goddamn armor, completely dressed.

you whined as one of his hands pulled you upwards so your ass would be sticking out for him, your glistening pussy begging for attention, your slick coating your mound and your thighs. you were soaking wet, drowning in desire.

he didn’t even tease you, didn’t even wait for you to get adjusted to his size before he was fucking you open with his huge cock. his tip brushed your cervix with every harsh thrust and you were withering and dissolving under his touch.

“fuck.” he groaned, his whole body shaking at the feeling of your cunt tightening around him and sucking him in every time he’d try and pull out just to thrust back in. it was as if your body was begging for him to stay inside, to fuck you full of him, for him to not go. “so good…” his pace spiked up, and your hands were holding onto your sheets for dear life, your body shaking with every snap of his hips against your ass. his balls met your cunt with every one of them, getting soaked on you. they felt so heavy… so full and ready to empty themselves in you… “you’re always so fucking good to me, pussy so ready to be filled up, huh?” he teased, and you whimpered as your walls tightened around him, making him groan. “such a fucking slut for dick. look at you…, already so close to cumming all over my cock…”

“din!” you cried out when his dick reached that deep spot inside of you that no one had ever been able to reach before, making your sight go blank.

“you gonna cum, honey? gonna cum for me?” his breathing was ragged, his pace needy. the sight in front of him was like heaven; you drooling all over your sheets, moans getting cut off by his thrusts and your cunt dripping only for him. you nodded, begging for him to let you cum, he almost bursted at your cries. “go ahead baby, soak my cock.” and you did, with moans and whimpers falling off your lips, your mind going black at the strength of your orgasm, which made your whole body shake and your walls to get impossibly tighter around him.

“shit.” he groaned, fucking you though it, feeling your cum coat the curls on the base of his cock, the wetness and warmth of it.

“din!!” you whimpered when his pace only sped up, the overstimulation becoming too much. you tried and get away from him, crawl your way on the bed, but he only tugged you closer, pinning you down onto the duvet ‘till only your hips were detached from it, spreading you open for him to fuck into. his right hand harshly gripped your neck from the back of your head, making sure you wouldn’t move, that you wouldn’t get away from him. you were sure there would be bruises on his fingertips decorating your waist tomorrow morning, but you wouldn’t care. “din, please…”

you screamed as he started to piston inside of you, unable to quiet your sobbing and whimpers. “don’t fucking move.” he groaned, feeling his own release start to build. “take it. be the good whore you are and fucking take it.” he gritted in between his teeth.

your eyes were rolling to the back of your head, your jaw slack and spit dribbling to the sheets. your mind felt hazy, your body heavy as he fucked you towards your second orgasm, which was building faster and harder than the first.

“that’s it. good girl.” he smirked when your own body started to thrust backwards, begging for more. “good. fucking. girl.” his thrust cut every one of his words.

“din, gonna cum, gonna-, fuck!” your eyes were rimmed by tears, your legs shaking and about to let you fall onto the mattress. thank god he was holding you up, manhandling you just like he would a goddamn toy for him to fuck.

“that’s it baby. cum for me. good girl.” you were falling apart as he hit your sweet spot one, two, three more time before your orgasm came crashing down like a tidal wave, drowning you under water. “fuck, so fucking tight.” he groaned, his cock twitching at how your walls were tightening. “gonna cum baby. gonna fill this pretty and wet cunt of yours.” you moaned. “yeah? you want it, baby? want my cum?” you whimpered, nodding, babbling however you could multiples ‘yes’ that slurred their way out of your lips. “fuck. take it baby, fucking take it.” he groaned, and his cock twitched as he emptied himself inside of you, painting your pussy on cum and filling you up so good you could only wither and moan at the feeling.

you fell with him to the mattress, your bodies sticky and spent. he had for sure fucked his frustrations in you.

he quickly undressed, holding you with your back against his wide chest, his strong arms surrounding your waist. you whimpered when his soft cock pushed his cum all inside once again when he seated himself in your cunt. “i know baby, i know…” he cooed, leaving soft pecks and kisses in the expanse of your neck and shoulders. “gotta keep it all warm and inside for you baby.” he muttered against your skin, and soon enough your eyes were closing once again, now completely spent due to his rough fucking.

-

a/n; oh lord, hope y’all liked it, love you! 😭😮‍💨

[whimsiwitchy]

I hear the secrets that you keep (series)

chapter one: a new beginning

Pedro Pascal x F!reader 

series masterlist

series summary: 24 year old y/n is an insecure and struggling actress in Los Angeles until she finally books a leading role in a big Hollywood movie next to her leading male, Pedro Pascal. A spark of friendship flickers between the two and it slowly begins to blossom into something more. As y/n is navigating a new found fame and a new found romance, she fears that a lie she has been sitting on might ruin everything.

Warnings: plus size reader (no specific description of reader, slight descriptions of weight: stomach fat, stretch marks, etc.), hefty age gap (24 years/14 years), female anatomy description, she/her pronouns, use of gendered terms (girl, girly, etc.), y/n used, descriptions of nudity, swearing,  use of the word fat, warnings may change as the story progresses. 

authors note: Hi everyone. This is my first time writing anything, so this might end up being pretty bad lmao. I kinda have an idea of where I want to take this and want to continue this even if no one reads it. Please let me know what you think! Thank you and enjoy. <3

chapter summary: Angie books y/n an audition opportunity and she is terrified. Y/n reflects on her insecurities and heads to the audition room. 

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

It was 9am and you’ve been staring at an email Angie had sent earlier in the morning. The subject read “AUDITION INFO BIATCH”. This would usually be deemed pretty unprofessional for an agent to send a client but Angie wasn’t just  your agent, she was also your long time best friend. You both had big dreams of making it big in Los Angeles and made the move six years ago. While you continued to search for acting jobs, Angie decided to become an agent after years of no luck. You wished you could give up, maybe gain some happiness back instead of having constant disappointment running around your head like it was trying to win a goddamn gold medal at the olympics. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Good morning sunshine, 

You have an audition scheduled for 3PM tomorrow! I attached all the details down below. If you need anything, give me a call babe! 

Sincerely, 

Angie Hawthorn (aka the best agent ever hehe) 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You read over the email and clicked on the files attached. One file was the original casting call information describing what they are looking for and a description of the project. The other was an audition offer explaining what you needed to prepare and where the audition would be held. You clicked on the casting call file and began to read it. 

“Fleeting Productions presents Risky Disco directed by Samual James.”

You stared blankly at the first sentence. “That is such a stupid fucking move title..” you huffed under your breath. You shook your head and continued reading. 

“Starring Pedro Pascal as Daniel Mendez. Daniel travels back in time to the 70s to live his dream of being a disco king. On his journey, he takes lovers every chance he gets and swears to himself that he won’t fall in love.” 

You picked your phone and called Angie. When she answers the phone she greets you with excitement.

“Y/n! Oh my god are you excited?!? This can be your big break. Your first audition for a big production company!!” You stared blankly at the wall while she spoke. “You’re fucking with me right? Like you have to actually be fucking with me..” You said with exasperation. She was silent for a moment. “What do you mean? This is great y/n. I’m not sure-” You cut her off before she could continue. “Angie, I need you to be so fucking for real right now. Did you read that shit show of a description?” She didn’t answer for a moment. “What’s so bad about it?” “Ang…you’re telling me, you saw this casting call, and thought of me? You have known me for how long? What about me is screaming 70s lover girl to a disco maniac? First of all, I'm fat. You know F A T. Fat girls don’t exist in the 70s it’s like-” The line goes dead. “Hello? Ang I’m trying to rant to you over here, don’t you care?” You looked down and noticed she hung up on you. “That stupid bitch.” You say in aggravation. As you go to call her again, a text pops up.

“Call me when you’re done being a self shaming loser <3”

You sighed and sat your phone down. You know that what you say isn’t always nice and you also know that Angie can’t stand when you talk down on yourself. It’s become a bad habit you can’t seem to break. You grab your water bottle from your night stand, take a sip, and continue to read over the audition information. 

“Our casting directors are looking for 12 women from the ages 35-40. All weights accepted. All skin tones accepted. One role will be filled as the leading lady alongside the leading male. The 11 other roles will be filled as lovers of the leading male. Each role may include sexual acts with a male actor as well as partial or full nudity. All actors will work closely with an intimacy coach before all scenes.” 

Okay, you definitely owe Angie an apology since they're throwing a weight limit out the window on this film. This film has the potential to be very… wait what the fuck does that say? You pick up your phone to call Angie again. 

“Are you done being a loser?” 

“Angie, honey, darling, my love…Why does it say that the age requirements are 35-40? I’m trying to be very calm about this right now but I really need to know what you were thinking in that little pea brain of yours? Hm.. a 24 year old auditioning for a role that is for a middle aged woman, what was the thought process behind that one love?” 

“Y/n I need you to keep that calm demeanor when I tell you this. Can you do that?” You think about your answer and sigh. “Yes I can do that. Spill the beans.” “Okay so, I might have sort of lied and said that you were 35…” You stood silent on the other end for a few seconds. “YOU DID WHAT???” “Y/n calm down it-” “HOW IN THE WORLD IS MY FRESH 24 YEAR OLD BABY FACE GOING TO PRETEND TO BE 35?? HUH ANGIE??” “Well you don’t have that much of a baby face, you can pull off 35.” “I’m gonna hang up now before I actually kick you in the head.” You hung up the phone and screamed into your pillow. 

It can’t be that hard to pretend to be 35 right? You sat up and set your head in your hands and took some deep breaths. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

After your mini freak out yesterday you went to work and got home at 8pm. You showered, ate, did some rehearsing, and hit the hay. You woke up at 7am the next morning and began getting ready for your audition. You searched pinterest to look for an appropriate outfit for a 35 year old. As you descaled your closet, you began to feel hopeless. After settling for an outfit, you headed to the kitchen to eat some breakfast and do some warmups. As it got closer to audition time, you started to feel the nervous butterflies entering your tummy. You took your phone off the charger to send Angie a quick text. 

“I’m sorry for freaking out on you yesterday, please forgive me my love. ♥ ️ Also OOTD, do I look 35? Oh and why the fuck are they casting that age for a disco movie… Love you!” You went to sit your phone down but immediately got a response from Angie. 

“It’s okay, you don’t look a day under 40 babe <3. And girl idk. I think it’s because Pedro is pushing 50.” 

“Okay fuck you. Who’s Pedro?” 

“Ummmm… the leading male. Like the whole ass dude you're probably going to be getting down and dirty with if you get this part. Did you not look him up?” 

“There ain’t no fucking way you lied about my age so I can bump and grind with a 50 year old man… I’m actually going to kill you.”

“Girl he’s hot as fuck, I’m doing you a favor. Who gives a shit if he's old, he can get it ANY day ;)” 

“You’re fucking gross dude. I gotta head out soon to try to beat a little bit of the traffic. Wish me luck. Love you!!”

“Love you girly, break a leg!”

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You turned into the studio lot and parked when you found the building the auditions were being held in. You’ve been to the studios more times than you can count, but this time felt different. This time felt real. You entered the building and walked up to a woman at a desk. “Hi, I’m here for an audition.” You smiled and she handed you a form to fill out. Once you were finished you handed it back to her and she instructed you to wait until your name was called. You looked around as you sat and waited. There were only 4 other women waiting in the room. As you looked at them, all of your insecurities started to pour out. This was not the time to be doubting yourself. You settled on looking down at your shoes instead. Each woman was called back one by one until you were the only one left. 

“Y/n Y/l/n?” You got up and greeted the man that called your name. As you followed him to the back your heart began to pound. Once you got to the door, you shook out your nerves and plastered the most sincere smile you could muster. 

You opened the door and walked up to a table in the back of the room. You shook everyone's hands and handed them your material. You stood in the center of the room and began your slate. After the prepared material was performed, they asked you various questions. You were answering with all honesty. Even flying by their questioning of your age. “Your paper states that you're 35. You look really young for that age.” You gulped “Just good genes I guess.” You gave them a laugh and a smile to which they returned. “We’re going to have to do a quick reading with some sides from the movie if that’s okay with you?” “Of course, that would be great!”.

You got into character as they handed you the slides. “You’ll actually be reading with the leading man himself. Pedro, whenever you’re ready go ahead and start.” You looked over to where the man looked when he spoke. Your breath caught in your throat as you looked at who they spoke to, Pedro you assumed. He smirked as you stared. How didn’t you notice him before? With a face that handsome, you’re thankful you somehow skipped over it. He for sure would have had you shaking with even more nerves. 

“You ready to start sweetheart?” You could have melted into a puddle right then and there. After a few seconds of silence you collected yourself. “Yea, I’m ready.” He gave you a smile and looked into your eyes. The two of you flowed through the lines with ease. It was like butter melting perfectly on a warm piece of toast. The type of toast that is so perfect, you don’t need to add jelly at all. It’s golden and beautiful. The chemistry between you two was golden. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

4 hours later…

The reading with Pedro was intense. There are no other words to describe it. Everything felt so natural and it was electric. The whole room got 10 degrees warmer by the end. Once the reading was over, everyone thanked you for your time and you were dismissed. You thanked them and gave a quick bye. You tried to sneak one last glance at Pedro but he was already looking at you. These memories that happened just a few hours prior keep swimming in your head. No matter how hard you tried to think about something else, you couldn’t stop thinking about the handsome man and how he looked at you.

You’re yanked out of your thoughts when your phone starts ringing. It was Angie. 

“Hey Ang, what’s up?” 

“Bitch….you must have left one hell of an impression.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Y/n you got the lead!” 

“Oh shit..” 

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝ 

Thank you for reading <3

chapter two

[yeollie-plz]

Character AI?????

Hi guys! I decided to try my hand at making some Character AI's!

Check them out if you want and I'll probably be making some more soon!

I was just so tired of the same old ones and if I say so myself I'm p proud!

Character AI Account Here!

Also ik the name is silly but it's just so funny to have characters say it...

[massivedreamer]

Where do I sign for a membership to The Unfaithful Reed Richards Fanfic Whore Club?

[pedritomosquito]

Wardrobe Malfunction

Summary: Bella feels awful in her form-fitting costume. Pedro and Craig swoop in.

Pairing: No Pairings, just Pedro & Bella

Word count: ~1.6k

Warnings: Gender dysphoria, panic attack

A/N: Bella did an interview where she said that she wore a binder for 90% of filming and that Pedro was the biggest supporter of it. This fic is how I imagine that conversation went down.

This is an incredibly self-indulgent fic written with little to no skill lol. I thought my fellow trans/non-binary/gender queer friends might find some solace in it, so I decided to post it anyway.

Bella walked back from the wardrobe department completely numb. 

In the previous episodes they’d shot, she always had multiple layers on. Usually an undershirt, a flannel, and a hoodie covered her frame, obscuring any details of her figure.

But now she was dressed in a snug long sleeve top.

She just nodded as they did the fitting, complacent with whatever choices they made. This was the outfit wardrobe wanted–what Craig and Neil wanted. She trusted them and letting them down wasn’t an option. She should really just get over it, despite the growing sickness pooling in her stomach.

She stood in her trailer, staring at her reflection, peering at herself from every angle. Her figure was soft and rounded in all the wrong places. She didn’t look like herself, her appearance too foreign. She was mismatched and her outside was incongruous with the rest of her. Everything was wrong. She couldn’t barely even explain what or why, but it was wrong . Maybe if she really slouched… No, that wasn’t enough. It wasn’t fucking enough . 

Her throat squeezed tight and she couldn’t bear it. The thought that this strange version of her was going to be permanently etched into television for everyone to see made her desperate. Without a single thought, she picked up a water bottle and chucked it at the mirror. The outburst didn’t supply any relief and she spun around, folding over herself like she could store her body away. 

She wrapped her arms so tightly around her chest, she could hardly breathe. She dropped to the floor and let the sobs overtake her. 

—----

Pedro checked his phone as he wandered over to Bella’s trailer to pick her up. They usually walked to set together and their lunch break was just about over. As he approached the door, he froze–there was crying coming from inside. 

“Bella?!” He knocked on the door and got no response, just hearing more cries. “I’m coming in, honey!” He warned her. He’d bust down the door if he had to. 

He swung the door open and stepped inside. He found her sitting in a heap on the floor, tears soaking her cheeks.

“Oh, Bellie,” He breathed. She finally looked up at him as he knelt down in front of her. “What’s wrong?”

She couldn’t answer. She didn’t know how to explain herself. She just cried harder, leaning towards him.

He sat down and pulled her into his arms.

“It’s okay, just breathe,” He tried, “It’s okay.” 

He didn’t know what could have made her that upset, but he can’t say he’s surprised. Bella was only nineteen years old and the stakes were unbelievably high for this project. The shooting schedule they had was brutal. He never could have handled the amount of stress she was under when he was nineteen.

He continued to reassure her, softly rubbing circles on her back. He waited until she had calmed down a bit before asking her to speak.

“What happened, Bella?” He asked gently.

“I feel wrong ,” She sobbed

Pedro’s frown deepened.

“What do you mean, honey?” He pulled away a bit to take a look at her, pushing back some stray hair that stuck to her tear tracks.

“I don’t feel like… myself… in this,” She replied, unlacing her arms and pulling at her shirt. “Millions of people are going to see me and I can’t–I just want my binder.” She hid her face against his shoulder, covering herself back up and letting more tears stream down her face.

“Bella,” He sighed, hugging her tight. “You don’t have to wear anything you don’t want to.”

“But this is what they want, it’s what Craig and Neil want,” She replied defeatedly, “It’s my job to give them what they want.”

“You don’t owe anything to anyone if it’s something that makes you uncomfortable with yourself,” He said, “And I can guarantee you Craig and Neil would never want you to feel like this. Did you talk to them about it?”

“I don’t want to be difficult,” She said.

“You’re not being difficult, not at all. It’s a simple costume change, honey. They change our wardrobe a hundred times before choosing something anyway, you know that.” He assured her. “Is it okay if I talk to Craig?” He asked, “And then we can talk to him together?”

She picked her head up, giving him a wary look.

“I’m not going to let you leave this trailer until you’re wearing something that makes you feel like you. I’ll be the ‘difficult’ one, okay?”

“Okay,” She nodded.

“Why don’t we get you on the couch?” He offered.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I ended up on the floor,” She apologized sheepishly.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” He replied, “Being on the hard floor is actually a great way to soothe your nervous system, sort of like a weighted blanket. You did it instinctually.” He explained as he helped her to her feet and guided her to sit on the sofa.

“How the hell do you know this stuff?”

“You overestimate my emotional stability, madam,” He joked, getting a giggle out of her. He got a blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders so she could finally release her arms. He grabbed the fallen water bottle and retrieved some tissues, placing them next to her.

“I’ll be right back,” He smoothed her hair and gave her a little smile before stepping outside.

He spotted one of the PA’s and called after her.

“Cindy!” 

“Mr. Pascal, what can I do for you?” She asked, noting his serious expression.

“Can you let Craig know we need him in Bella’s trailer? It’s urgent.”

“Of course,” She replied. She pressed her walkie talkie. “Cindy to Matthew?”

“Go for Matthew,” a voice replied.

“I have Mr. Pascal here–he needs Mr. Maizin to Miss Ramsey’s trailer. It’s urgent.”

“Maizin to Ramsey’s trailer, got it,” The voice confirmed, “I’m getting him now.”

“Thank you so much, Cindy,” Pedro said.

“You’re welcome,” She replied, “I’ll make sure he gets here.”

Craig was a man on a mission when he was told Pedro and Bella were having some kind of emergency. It was less than two minutes before he was knocking on the trailer door.

“Pedro?” Craig called.

Pedro met him at the door and led him away, out of earshot of the trailer.

“You know what a chest binder is, right?” Pedro began.

Craig wasn’t sure what he expected this conversation to be about, but it definitely wasn’t this. Where was he going with this?

“Yes,” Craig replied.

“It wouldn’t be a problem if Bella wore one with her wardrobe, would it?”

“No, of course not,” He replied, “They can wear it if they want.”

“The poor thing, I found them absolutely hysterical over it,” Pedro explained sadly.

“Oh god, I had no idea,” Craig sighed. “Absolutely they can wear it. Are they doing okay now?”

“Yeah, I got them calmed down,” Pedro said.

“Alright, let’s go have a chat,” Craig replied.

Bella’s eyes looked up as they entered. Craig took in the sight of her, curled up on the couch in a blanket, eyes puffy and red. 

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out, lip trembling. 

“Aw kiddo,” He swept over to her and sat down, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her into his side. “There is nothing to be sorry for. You can do whatever makes you feel comfortable with your costumes. You can absolutely wear a binder, or we could rework the whole outfit if that would be better, whatever you need. I didn’t even think to ask you about it. I’m so sorry.”

“I didn’t mean to make a big deal out of it, I just… I panicked,” she replied quietly.

“This is a big deal–it’s a big deal to us,” He said, looking to Pedro too, “You being uncomfortable is a big deal. Your well-being is more important than anything, you hear me?”

She nodded. 

“Do you have a binder with you?” Craig asked. 

She nodded again. 

“Okay. How about we break for a couple of hours, I want you to rest, alright?” He advised, “And then we can go to wardrobe together and get you fitted for some better costumes. That sound okay?”

“Yeah,” she said with relief. 

“You know you can always, always talk to me or Neil or Pedro about this kind of stuff, right?” Craig asked. “If you’re upset or uncomfortable with anything or even if you’re just not sure about something—please talk to us. We want to help.”

Her eyes start to water again. 

“Have I ever mentioned how much I love you guys?”

“In passing,” Craig joked. 

“On occasion,” Pedro agreed.

Finally, they got a smile out of her. 

“Change into anything you want and relax for a bit,” Craig said, “I’ll come by at three to check on you, alright?”

“Alright,” she replied, another small smile on her face. 

Craig gave her shoulder a squeeze and a gentle playful tug on her ponytail. 

“See you later,” he said as he departed. 

“See you.”

“Where are your clothes baby girl?” He knew she would get a kick out of the nickname. 

Bella gives a mock gasp.

“Oh my goodness, did I just get blessed with a ‘baby girl?!’” She asked. “I’ll pitch a fit over my dysphoria more often if it means I get the full Joel experience!”

“You’re too much,” Pedro laughed. “Clothes?” He asked again. 

“Right, they’re in my bag,” She pointed at the blue duffle in the corner. 

He handed it over to her and he sat down facing away from her so she could change. 

“Okay,” She announced when she was finished. 

“Better?” He asked, turning around to look at her. 

“Better,” she dropped back down onto the couch. 

“You look wiped, honey. What do you think, do you want to take a nap?” He offered. 

“Mhm,” she nodded, getting comfortable and pulling the blanket back over herself. 

“Get some rest,” He said, getting up to leave.

“Stay?” She interrupted.

“Of course,” He smiled.

[art-estrange]

I may or may not be accumulating a rec list????? But heres a story i found im not to sure if this user is on tumblr but its an AO3 Fic from pedros pov about an apocalypse breaking out and the reader being his only means of survival (not last of us)

I added a link but the red parts will also take you to the fic and the users AO3 page

[evewritingsteve]

requests

i <3 being able to write your ideas! i have a few limitations, but trust me when i say i want to see it all. im a new blog so be patient while i work out the kinks ;)

what's happening

i will do any length of request (drabble, imagine, etc) but longer ones will take me longer to do! be as specific or as vague as you feel like, however the more detailed a request the more i can usually write.

i will do any type of request, angst, fluff, tropes, au's, smut, name it and i got it up in this little brain

i will write for pretty much any fandom, feel free to send an ask, or message me privately to see if i can write the character (or actor) you want! I aim to please.

i am working on setting up official commission stuff, but feel free to message me about any personalized works you may want and we can work something out!

DO

send me your little thoughts

send me your big thoughts

be nice to me im a broke college student and im doin this FOR FREE BRO

understand that unfortunately i have a life outside tumblr, it may take me 2 seconds to answer, it make take me 2 weeks. idk we gotta roll with it

my blog is a safe place, help me keep it that way plz (that was a threat)

ABSOLUTE NO'S

incest (plz no one should be writing incest)

that's all I can think of right now but I'm sure someone will make me add to this list lord help me

happy reading and thank you! muah

send a request ;)

[eudaimaniacs]

delicate (hugh jackman x reader)

word count: 641 words

notes: i've been thinking about making pedro pascal fanfiction but don't know where to start. also, i want to make a fanfic about hugh's character on kate & leopold (higly recommend!). additionally, it's almost midnight here and i need to sleep (scroll through tiktok mindlessly and simp over hugh jackman). enjoy reading!

The night in New York City was a symphony of beauty. But amid it all was a void, a longing for Hugh's comforting presence.

The lonely space occupied the right side of the king-sized bed. You missed the long, interrupted nights spent in Hugh’s embrace. The feeling of his arms securing and comforting your worries. The scratch of his beard tickling your exposed neck. Hugh’s soft snores as you hear the beat of his heart. Your combined bodies embraced, sleeping soundly until the New York sunshine woke the two of you.

Yet, the life of an actor demands relentless dedication. You admired Hugh's commitment to his craft, late-night studies, and relentless practice. His talent was undeniable and shone through in every role he took. But the sacrifices he had to make were the hardest to bear.

He was practicing for a new movie and filming will start in two months. You were used to the hectic schedule of a famous Hollywood actor. However, the emptiness on Hugh’s side of the bed made your heart swell a bit. You wanted him to sleep with you until the sun decided to wake the two of you. It’s been a month of Hugh practicing his lines until the night. The long, uninterrupted nights were on break; however, you wanted to change it even if it was only a night.

In your sleepy state, you struggle to open your eyes and adjust to the darkness. You put on your slippers and made your way downstairs. Hugh's soft, deep voice slowly fills your ears. His tired yet concentrated silhouette makes your heart skip a beat. It was attractive and admirable. You didn’t want to ruin Hugh’s focus and dedication but wanted him to rest and sleep with you.

You tiptoed, not wanting to scare or anger him. You weren’t quite sure what to say. You can’t command or ask him to go to bed and rest. Although Hugh valued time for the relationship, he wanted to balance his personal life and work.

“How are you doin’ there, Hugh?” You murmured and rubbed his back. Hugh sighed and closed the script as he focused his attention on you. You softly smile and apologize for interrupting him.

Hugh lightly chuckled and muttered, “It’s okay, honey. I’ve been practicing hard for this movie.”

You sat on his lap as you ran your fingers through his hair. You tried to soothe the exhaustion Hugh had accumulated this month. Even when he was tired, Hugh was still the sweet and gentle partner and person you knew.

“You need to sleep, Hugh,” you lean on his chest and feel the warmth of his heart. The tired man kissed your forehead and massaged your back. With Hugh's embrace lulling you, you wanted to fall asleep in that chair.

You stood up and held Hugh’s hand to lead him to the bedroom. He wanted to return and practice his lines but knew you realized he needed a well-deserved rest. You squeezed and rubbed his veiny yet soft hands. You couldn’t wait for Hugh to embrace and sleep with you all night.

Hugh discarded his shirt as he lay down with you on the bed. You grab the comforter and wrap the two of you in it. You snuggle in his chest as Hugh once again embraces you.

You tiredly sighed and whispered, “Oh, how I missed this.”

“Me too, [Y/N],” Hugh yawned as he combed his fingers through your hair. You lightly giggle as you give him a goodnight kiss. The last thing you heard before dozing off was Hugh’s soft snores. The beauty of the New York night was now complete. The void of Hugh’s presence was gone, and he was next to you. He looked peaceful as he took the well-deserved rest.

eudaimaniacs - 2024

[creedslove]

BETRAYED - PART TWO

Pedro Pascal x f!reader

Summary: Pedro invites you to be his plus one for the night but his attention is caught by another woman and leaves you with a broken heart

Warnings: angst, age gap, established friendship, unrequited love/one sided feelings, Pedro being a dick

A/N: I'm so sorry but I can't manually tag anyone on the post, the app won't just let me do it!

1.6k words

PART ONE

When Pedro woke up in the next morning he knew he had screwed up. He knew he had screwed up bad. Though he barely remembered what had happened, he just had a gut feeling he'd screwed up. His head was pounding from his excessive drinking the night before and his back was sore, he groaned in pain as he shifted in bed and flashes of what happened the night before crossed his mind.

Clothes flying around the room, scattered on the floor, sloppy kisses, dirty touches, he had no idea how he'd look at you and tell you your night together didn't mean what you probably thought it meant. He swore to himself he wouldn't touch you, no matter how bad either of you might want, he knew he couldn't lead you into thinking you had a chance of anything romantically happening between you both. He sighed heavily before turning in bed and being shocked to see you were not the woman who was lying next to him.

If he hadn't slept with you, then, who did he sleep with? What was her name? He had no idea. The man cursed under his breath as the stranger slept deeply in his bed and grabbed his phone. He felt his heart pounding with anxiety, worried he'd done something embarrassing in public, but luckily, he hadn't. He was still the internet's sweetheart.

He let out a sigh of relief and managed to get out of bed, stumbling towards the bathroom and getting under the shower so he would clear his mind. The cold water poured over his naked body as he rested his forehead against the wall tile, he was definitely too old for that routine or partying, drinking, fucking. He shook his head as he replayed everything that happened the night before, from getting styled, to taking you to the gala, dancing with you, having a few drinks and then leaving with another woman. She got him horny, he was a man after all, he was single and he was free to be with whoever he wanted, so he decided to end his night with some female company. What was so bad about that?

But Pedro knew what was that bad about that. He simply ditched you for someone else, he already knew about your feelings and even if the two of you pretended it didn't exist, he was conscious enough to know it wasn't polite to make you go back home on your own because he'd found something better to do. As his towel hung wrapped around his waist, he checked his phone again, it explained why you hadn't replied to any of his drunk texts. He knew he'd play it cool and let you take your time.

Exiting the shower, he found the naked stranger in his bed, and god, she was gorgeous. She smiled at him, noticing how his gaze burned her skin. Pedro knew there was nothing he could do for Y/N at that moment, so he just shrugged and jumped into bed again, letting the woman tangle her legs around his body.

•••

You had a rough day as everything that happened insisted on being on your mind. No matter how much you tried to forget it or let it go, you were brought back to that night every time you closed your eyes. Your face still burned with the shame and humiliation you felt. Even if no one seemed to have noticed, you never felt so exposed to Pedro before. And you also couldn't believe the nerve he had to drunk text you during the night, he repeatedly asked if you'd arrived home safely, as if he cared about it at all. If he did, he wouldn't have told you to take an Uber home while he drove that skank back to his house, undressed her and fucked her all night long. You honestly felt sick to your stomach just to imagine him grabbing his phone to send you a text while she probably had her mouth or other holes busy with him. At that moment, you wanted to erase Pedro from your existence, and hoped he would give you a break, not wanting to face him at all.

However, it took him a week before he was again after you, he texted you at random hours during the day, always asking you if you wanted to facetime or hangout. It baffled you how he simply acted as if nothing happened and was unable to give you space when you clearly didn't want to be social. You always declined his invitations and though you still replied to his messages, anyone who had access to them could tell you were being nothing but polite and distant from him, because that's exactly what you wanted: distance.

Pedro on the other hand, just couldn't accept that, you out of every single person in the world would never do that, I mean, stay away from him? Not a chance. He knew you'd rather be by his side as a friend than be without him, and he wasn't afraid to admit he was that selfish. He didn't want you out of his life, even if he couldn't give you what you wanted, but at the same time, he couldn't sacrifice his freedom like meeting women because of you. So once again, he told himself he would accept your decision of having a break for him, but he wasn't going down without a fight.

Showing up at your job at the end of your shift was the solution he came up with. In his mind, it was the perfect plan. There were enough people so you'd be too shy to tell him off, but not crowded enough to drag everyone's attention.

You were just finishing your tasks with some of your co-workers when you saw him standing there. He was in his regular sweater, glasses on and a messy hair that showed he'd been out in the wind. He smiled sweetly, his warm brown eyes scanning the tight jeans you were and the high knee boots had on.

"Hey Y/N, can we talk?" He asked as if nothing had happened, he stared into your eyes with his puppy ones and slowly took both hands to your face, cupping your cheeks and stroking them gently.

"I missed you, mi cariño" he mixed the two languages knowing damn well how that made you weak at the knees.

You're heart raced and your breathing wasn't steady anymore, the butterflies got all agitated and you bit your lips, before reminding you it wasn't real, it was just one of his tricks, how Pedro learned to read you over time and used this on his favor.

You gently held his hands and took them away from your face "I'm sorry, I was busy" you gave him a lame excuse and he knew it was bullshit, but still, didn't care at all.

"It's okay, princesa, I wanted to see you… wanna go for a coffee?" He asked sweetly and frowned softly at your refusal. You had never said no to going out with him.

"I really can't, Pedro, I'm still in the middle of tasks here and I can't leave early" you half lied as you were indeed very busy but if it was any other occasion, you would always make time to him.

He sighed and took a step back "alright hermosa, just… stop by Saturday night, I'll have some friends over, it's our group and I'd really like to see you there, you know it is never the same without you" he said in a sweet way and said goodbye, leaning towards you and pecking your cheeks, dangerously close to your lips.

•••

Saturday arrived faster than you could tell, if you were excited about the dinner party the week would've probably dragged itself, but as you were still feeling awkward, in a blink of an eye, you found yourself checking your makeup in front of the mirror. You didn't take long to get dressed and knew you should get going, so you wouldn't be too late. You decided to take an Uber instead of driving, unsure of how much you'd drink. When your screen lit up, the first thing that drew your attention was the headline to some high profile gossip website that said

'Pedro Pascal seen with mysterious beauty blonde as he's out'

You felt your hand shake lightly and your whole body heat up again, clicking on the link and being redirected to the article that said he was spotted a couple of weeks ago walking down the street with the woman whom you immediately recognized as the skank from the party. The text said some fan recognized him and snapped a picture of the two while out for lunch but it only went viral on TikTok two weeks later.

You could see she was still wearing the same dress she did at the party which was an obvious proof they'd slept together and she didn't have spare clothes to change while he took her out for lunch.

He took her out for lunch. The son of a bitch had told you to go home by Uber late at night knowing you had drunk considerably and that could make you an easy target in case the driver or anyone else had bad intentions. And yet, he made sure to take her out for lunch and drive her home like a real gentleman.

You couldn't believe what you were reading, as angry tears blurred your eyes, you threw your phone onto the bed and began taking off your clothes. To hell with Pedro and his dinner party. Judging by his behavior in the last few weeks, there was a huge chance the skank would be there as well, and you would not humiliate yourself like that, not for him, not for anybody.

"Fuck you Pascal" you mumbled under your breath as you removed your makeup and turned off your phone.

-----

A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed it!!! Part 3 is coming soon!

[thickania]

I'm going to try to be as nice as I can. If you are having full on meltdowns and panic attacks because Chris Evans got married, please seek out for a psychiatrist. And if you consume so much media, if your life revolves around a celebrity to that extent, turn off the computer, lay off the fanfic, stop consuming media with them, stop consuming fanfiction. Just stop it.

Chris didn't sell you any fake image, the fans who were here before marvel, we knew about his frat guy personality, he openly talked about what part of a woman's body he found it attractive, he openly talked about how he's always thinking inappropriate jokes, y'all made a imaginary version of him, and then got upset when he didn't fit that image. People are not a piece of paper, they are multifaced, he can easily be a party frag guy and a family guy. It's not an impossible thing,

I'm not trying to be mean, I'm genuinely worried for some of y'all. I'm going to tag this with every male celebrity with a heavy female audience and fanatics that I can think of, because it's becoming ridiculous and scary.

I was here in the 2010s, when fandom was at one of its peaks, I saw girls leaking each other's address because of fandom wars, I had my number leaked, just because I made fun of One Direction at the time, I saw girls stepping over each other at events just to get a peak of their favorite singer or actor, y'all are acting just the same, but this time is way worse, because a lot of you are full grown ass adults. I saw people threatening to hurt themselves because of this marriage. I heard that Pedro Pascal was stalked a few weeks ago, people are having public meltdowns because of Timothée Chalamet, there's still people stalking Henry's girlfriend. There are still people dissecting every single move that Zawe does. Seek professional help. Stop consuming fanfiction, don't just decrease the quantity, stop consuming it for at least 3 months.

I don't know when y'all will understand they are actors, singers, models, they are here to sell a product so we can consume their product. We can enjoy a little harmless fun sometimes, we can imagine what it would be like to be next to them, or date them, be their friend, we can imagine that, but there's a point where you have to back up, rethink your life choices and see what's missing in your life. Please seek help, immediately

[avenging-fandoms]

slow makeouts with pedro after a big event🫣winding down after all that socializing maybe the reader and pedro just had a movie coming out with the two of them and people are loosing their minds about it asking if they’re together

Pedro Pascal Masterlist 1

Pedro Pascal Masterlist 2

You stood on the red carpet for your new movie and posed for the cameras. You moved down the carpet and saw an interviewer, greeting her hello and making small talk.

"So, I don't know how often you look on Twitter, but everyone seems to think that you and Pedro are a thing after watching this movie"

"Really? I guess that means we're just really good actors, right?" You wink and you both laugh. "I just play his girlfriend, Pedro and I get along very well. I think that's why people think we're together"

Thankfully the interviewer didn't ask anymore questions like that and you soon left, hearing a faint whistle. You turn around and smile, Pedro speed walking over to you and squeezing you tightly.

"You look gorgeous, mí amor. I wish we could go home now" He whispered and you laugh, rubbing his back and you two took pictures on the carpet together.

Pedro wasn't one for flaunting his relationship. He liked to keep it to himself so no one's opinions were coming at him or his partner. He got asked many questions about you and he just gushed about you, which added more fire to the flame of dating speculations.

You made it off the carpet, heading inside and beelining for the bar. You order a drink and wave hello to a few people. "You made it off the carpet, heading inside and beelining for the bar. You order a drink and wave hello to a few people. "I just cannot keep my eyes off of you. I find you in every single crowded room" Pedro's hand held your waist and you smile, giving him a proper hug.

"You look so wonderful in pink, honey" You eye him up and down and rub his bicep with your straw between your lips. "Would probably look better on our bedroom floor"

"Cool it, princesa. We're in public" you smile and Pedro returns one, rubbing your back. "Although it's very hard to not just take a bite of you right now" his voice was low, and his eyes were melting you away.

"Figuratively or literally?" You smirk and he laughs, biting your arm. "Ouch, Pey" you pout and rub over the area, Pedro laughing at the faint teeth marks. Pedro's love language was physical touch - and biting.

You two head into the theatre and everyone claps as the cast stood on the stage, a microphone being passed to everyone. "I would just like to start off, if that's okay" Pedro spoke and you look at him, nothing but love in your eyes. "I just wanted to say I am eternally grateful to have worked with such amazing people who became.. so special to me" His eyes met yours.

Suddenly it was just him in the room, and your eyes never left his face. He finished his speech and you clap with everyone else, letting other people get a chance to speak. It got to your turn and you took a deep breath. Even as an actor who had to speak in front of cameras, you still got very nervous on a microphone.

Pedro noticed you holding your stomach and placed a hand on your back, rubbing his thumb over your exposed skin and you smiled. "This cast.. this crew. You all have become my family, people who want love me no matter my faults or blooper reels" the room laughed and Pedro dropped his hand, standing a bit closer to you. "I'm grateful to be here, and I'm so thankful for everyone who helped bring this film to life"

You pass the microphone to the host and everyone claps and stands up, Pedro taking your hand and holding it up, the both of you looking at each other. You take his other hand and you both pretend to scream, making each other double over in laughter.

-

You were exhausted. Interviewers and even other actors asking about you and Pedro. Dancing with everyone, drinking and screaming in celebration. Now, you wanted to go home and lay in bed.

You got into the car first, closing the door and the driver did a circle around the building and you scooted to the far side of the car, the door opening again and in came Pedro. He waved and shut the door quickly, giggling at you hiding in the corner and the driver rolled up the partition.

"Windows are tinted, hermosa. Get over here" You smile and crawl over to Pedro, hand on his thigh with his finger under your chin as you kiss him slowly. "I've been wanting this all night, I've missed you"

"Yeah but don't forget you sneakily putting your hand on my thigh during that whole movie" Your fingers played with the curls on the back of his head.

"Can't help touching you" he shrugged and smiled, kissing you again with his fingers wrapping around the back of your neck and drinking in every bit of you.

-

Pedro held your hand as you two walked inside your condo, a small number of cardboard boxes still scattered around the place as you and Pedro had just moved in almost 2 months ago. You both were crazy busy for weeks, but your cat, Cheese, didn't seem to mind all the boxes.

"Oh, look at this baby" Pedro laid softly next to the tabby cat and he chirped, pushing his head against Pedro's nose as he scratched behind his ear.

You laid on the other side of Cheese, running a hand down his back and kissing his head. "Don't worry, mommy and daddy aren't busy for another month so we're gonna make it up to you" You pitched your voice up and Pedro stared, taking a picture as you kissed your cat.

You followed the 2 year old to his dish, Pedro's eyes heavy as he sat up. You gave Cheese some food and squatted next to him, petting his back while he purred and chomped away.

You head back into the room where Pedro took off his belt and your hazy eyes watch every move of his fingers.

"Can you unzip me, Pedro?" He hums and you turn around. He pushes your hair over your shoulder, unzipping slowly until he reaches the bottom. His lips drag against your shoulder blades, making you stand up straight and lean into him.

Your dress falls as you both sway softly, his arm over your chest with your eyes closed. He kissed your jaw and you stood up, hanging up your dress and taking off your bra and underwear. You slid on Pedro's Purple Rain t-shirt and a pair of pajama shorts, looking at Pedro who stood in front of the mirror with his shirt unbuttoned and tie loose around his shoulders.

If you weren't so tired, you would jump him right then and there. You head to the bathroom and took out all your clips and bobby pins, putting your hair up. You wash your face of your makeup and grab your toothbrush, Pedro tapping your butt as he walked passed you in his pajamas.

He also grabbed his toothbrush, giving you and himself some toothpaste. You both brush your teeth in silence and you lean against him, closing your eyes. He rubs your back as you spit out your toothpaste, then he does as well. You rinse out your mouths and head into bed.

Pedro turns off the light and you turn on your lamp. Pedro lays on his side with his back towards you and you gasp softly. You bite his shoulder and he yelps, turning over and tapping your forehead. "That hurt!"

"Payback" You giggle and he sighs, rubbing his hand over your cheeks a few times before resting it and rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone. He pulls you in and kisses you softly, pulling away and pushing his nose up against yours.

"How many questions about us did you get?" You whisper and he rolls his eyes. "Every interviewer I met with asked about you and I for almost the whole interview"

"As much as I love to talk about you, I wish they would stop asking. This is why we don't want to go public for a while. Could you imagine if we confirmed it?" He mumbled, kissing you between words. "They would be up our asses even more"

"I like being your secret" you wink and his hand smooths over your hips, pulling you in as he kissed your neck. He hums as his hand falls underneath your shirt, rubbing your back slowly as your leg traps his hip.

Your fingers grip his hair as you kiss him slowly, his bicep flexing against your rib cage. He hums softly as he breathes out when you adjust your hips.

“You are a dream” he whispers and pushes his fingers into your back and dragging down your spine, making you arch your back. Pedro kissed your chest as you tilted your head back.

Your hand falls down his chest, over his ribs while pushing your foot to his. You place your head on his bicep and closed your eyes as he kissed your face softly.

“I love you, sweetheart” he mumbles into your hair and you smile, planting a kiss to his chest.

“I love you, Pedrito”

Pedro huffed as Cheese jumped on his side and you laugh, but not too hard so you scared Cheese.

You all settled into bed, your back against Pedro’s front with his arm underneath the pillow you laid on. Cheese laid against your stomach as your arm draped over him and rested your hand in Pedro’s palm.