#(pp)

requested! thank you. content: pregnancy, public affection, protective!pedro

the press tour is loud. cameras flash nonstop, people shouting his name from every direction, microphones being pushed closer and closer like they might miss something if they blink. it’s overwhelming — not for him, never for him — but pedro still feels his hand tighten around yours instinctively.

you’re glowing. visibly pregnant, dress hugging your belly in a way the internet has already dissected frame by frame. there’s something sacred about it, about you standing there so calm, so sure, one hand resting protectively over your stomach as if the world isn’t screaming around you.

pedro doesn’t let go of you for a second.

his hand never leaves the small of your back. sometimes it slides lower, palm splayed over your belly, thumb rubbing slow, grounding circles like he’s reminding both of you that everything is okay. that you are okay. that the baby is okay.

and the internet? the internet is feral.

someone posts a clip — barely ten seconds long — of him stepping slightly in front of you when a photographer gets too close. his body shields yours without thinking. his arm curves around you, firm and sure, chin dipping just enough so he can murmur something only you can hear.

you smile immediately. that’s what sends everyone over the edge.

because you don’t look scared. you don’t look fragile. you look adored.

during the interview, the host asks a question about the project — some joke about long shoots and exhausting schedules — and pedro answers politely, smoothly, like always. but then he glances at you.

“we adjusted things,” he says easily. “made sure she was comfortable. that was the priority.”

no hesitation. no overexplaining. the priority.

your hand squeezes his, and he looks down at you like you’re the only person in the room. like the cameras aren’t there. like the world hasn’t been watching every move you’ve made together since the pregnancy became public.

later, when you’re seated, he pulls your chair closer without even asking. his knee stays pressed against yours the entire time. when you shift, he notices. when you breathe differently, he notices. when you absentmindedly rub your belly, he’s already there, covering your hand with his.

photos circulate within minutes.

pedro pascal cannot stop touching his pregnant wife.

the way he looks at her???

that man is DOWN BAD.

and they’re right. because when the carpet ends and the noise fades just a little, pedro leans down and presses a soft kiss to your temple. not for the cameras — they just happen to catch it.

“you okay, baby?” he asks quietly.

you nod. “yeah. you?”

he smiles, wide and warm and so full it almost hurts.

“never better.”

that night, the internet keeps spiraling.

zoomed-in screenshots of his hand on your belly. slow-motion gifs of him guiding you through the crowd. compilations titled pedro pascal: protective husband era.

and somewhere in a quiet hotel room, away from the flashes and the noise, he helps you out of your heels, kisses your stomach goodnight, and holds you like the world can wait.

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work.

twitter= terrible website in turmoil that exists regardless

snapchat= save nothing and prosper. cant have any trace

linkedin= lets ideate nothing kind. even death is nicer

instagram= idealized natural self thats a good raise above mediocre

tiktok= teens idolizing killing their own knowledge

reddit= rallying every dork doing insipid things

quora= quite useless or redundant answers

google= get online! only getting less effective

letterboxd= letting every tryhard thrust every review before others XD