Hearts at Home
PAIRING:Pedro Pascal x reader
A/n:I'm sorry I haven't been active in the last week, school kept me busy, now I have more free time and I will respond to all your requests
They landed in Santiago just after dawn. The plane’s interior was bathed in a sleepy golden light as Pedro couldn’t help stealing adoring glances at you. Tucked into his side, you held one twin pressed against your chest while the other rested securely in his arms,both babies wrapped snugly like burritos in soft cotton blankets. Your daughter had Pedro’s deep, thoughtful eyes and your son shared your gentle pout. Despite the exhaustion etched on your faces, the love was abundantly clear.
“Mi amor,” Pedro whispered as he pressed a delicate kiss to the top of your head. “You did so good. We made it.”
You managed a tired smile and mumbled, “Barely… I’m still shaking from that flight.”
Pedro laughed softly. “We survived flying with newborn twins. That’s heroic in my book.”
He kissed your cheek, then scooped a gentle kiss on the baby girl’s brow. His eyes glistened as they drifted to his son, peacefully sleeping against his chest with a little fist curled into his black hoodie.
“I can’t wait for them to wake up on our next flight,” you teased with a hint of humor, the room filling with your soft laughter.
Pedro grinned. “Oh, I think we’ll just cancel all flights. We’re home now in Chile.”
Outside the arrivals area, Pedro’s sister, Javiera, was waiting. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she wrapped you in a warm, exuberant embrace. “¡Mi niña!” she exclaimed, one arm outstretched toward you and the other reaching for the car seat Pedro carried. “You brought them. Oh my God, you actually brought them home!”
“Hi, Javi,” you whispered into her shoulder, your voice thick with fatigue and emotion as one of the twins began to fuss quietly.
Javiera pulled back slightly, dabbing at her eyes. “Look at your little faces... and yours too, Pedrito,” she said with a playful smirk at Pedro. “You look like you haven’t slept in months.”
Pedro scratched the back of his head and grumbled, “Because I haven’t.”
“And you’re glowing anyway,” Javiera added, her tone filled with affectionate teasing. “Like a tired little angel.”
Pedro rolled his eyes but his smile softened when he looked at you. “She’s the angel,” he said, ruffling your hair gently. “I’m just here carrying the diaper bag.”
The family house was a warm haven filled with the inviting scents of freshly baked bread and rich coffee. Family members,Pedro’s cousin, his aunt, and even a few more relatives,gathered to welcome you all. Amidst the chatter and the clatter of cups, you hardly noticed the blur of faces. All you sensed was that gentle pressure of new life and the overwhelming softness of everyone’s love.
Throughout the greetings, Pedro remained your constant guardian. His hand never left your shoulder, and every so often, he’d whisper something sweet in your ear. You settled onto the couch as Javiera cradled her niece with tears glistening in her eyes.
“She looks just like you,” Javiera murmured, stroking the baby’s tiny nose with reverence. “And look at this little man,so chunky!”
Pedro beamed with pride as he reappeared with a bottle in hand. “He’s a real snacker, just like his mamá,” he said, setting the bottle down on the table.
You swatted him playfully. “Don’t you dare compare us,I’m still recovering from those last few feedings!”
Before long, Mateo, Pedro’s mischievous 14yearold nephew, waltzed into the room. Observing the bustling, warm scene, he couldn’t resist a comment. “Wow, Tío, you’ve gone full dad mode now, haven’t you?”
Pedro turned slowly, a smirk tugging at his lips. “What’s that supposed to mean, Mateo?”
Mateo shrugged nonchalantly. “It means you used to be cool. Now you’re out here burping babies and asking, ‘Where’s the wipe warmer?’”
Laughter erupted among the gathered family members, and even you couldn’t help chuckling. Pedro looked mockoffended, stepping closer. “I am still cool,” he declared, pointing proudly at the baby nestled in Mateo’s arms. “She thinks I’m cool.”
Mateo grinned impishly. “She thinks you’re just a milk machine, Tío. I mean, she told me so!”
Pedro narrowed his eyes just enough to convey both love and gentle annoyance. “You’re lucky your mother’s here to keep you in check,” he warned.
“And if she weren’t?” Mateo teased boldly, a spark of rebellion in his tone.
Pedro simply lobbed a throw pillow at Mateo’s head, and the room filled with giggles and the rustling of cushions.
Later that day, once the commotion had died down after a shared family meal, you retreated to a quiet guest room. There, in soft lamplight, one twin slept peacefully in the bassinet beside you while the other rested securely against your chest. As the steady rhythm of the little heartbeat lulled you, you could almost forget the whirlwind that had been the day.
Pedro entered the room quietly, freshly showered, his damp curls still clinging to his forehead in endearing disarray. He wore an old Tshirt that hugged his broad chest,a reminder of the life he led outside of fame.
“Are you okay, cariño?” he asked gently, sliding onto the edge of the bed.
You nodded, a quiet smile playing on your lips. “Just… soaking it all in. It’s overwhelming in the best possible way.”
Pedro knelt beside you, resting his warm cheek on your thigh. “They already love you, you know,” he murmured, eyes softening as he scanned your tired but radiant face. “My whole family does.”
You tilted your head, a wry smile touching your lips. “I’m the one who stole their golden boy, after all.”
Pedro’s voice dropped to a gentle murmur. “You gave him a home,” he said, brushing a stray hair away from your face. “And now you’ve given life to two perfect little souls.”
You chuckled quietly, the fatigue giving way to contentment. “We’re not perfect, Pedro.”
“No,” he agreed softly, “but we’re real. And that’s more beautiful than any perfection could ever be.”
In the deep quiet of the night, the twins stirred. A synchronized wail erupted in the silence. Before you could even reach for your phone, Pedro was up,his arms already cradling the fussy son as you scooped up your daughter for comforting. In the cool corridor light, you met each other’s eyes with a mutual, unspoken understanding.
“Tag team,” Pedro whispered, a smile of shared responsibility lighting up his face.
You chuckled, handing him a bottle as you continued soothing the other baby. “I love you,” you said softly, eyes glistening with adoration and sleep.
“Even when I smell like baby puke?” he quipped, a teasing lilt in his tone.
“Especially then,” you replied with a soft laugh, and as he pulled you in for a quick, lingering kiss, the world outside the hallway faded away.
Pedro walked backward into the nursery, the gentle murmur of Spanish endearments on his lips as he engaged the little one in a private moment of fatherly tenderness.
The next morning, the house buzzed with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Javiera was at the stove, flipping tortillas and whisking eggs with practiced precision. In the living room, Mateo strolled in, not missing a beat.
“So, Tío,” Mateo began, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he jabbed playfully, “gonna get a minivan now that you’re officially a dad?”
Pedro, sitting at a large wooden table with a steaming cup in hand, rolled his eyes dramatically. “No, Mateo,” he replied, savoring his coffee. “But I am seriously considering noisecanceling headphones for all of us.”
Mateo’s eyebrows arched with a grin. “For you or for the babies? Because if it’s for the babies, I might lend you a pair of earplugs!”
Before Pedro could retort, you entered the kitchen cradling one of the twins. Your hair, sticky with sleep, stuck out in every direction, making you look adorably disheveled. Pedro’s face lit up instantly as he saw you.
“There she is,” he murmured, reaching out to gently cradle your face in his calloused hands.
Javiera, ever the nurturer, leaned over and said warmly, “You’re glowing, just like every mama should.”
Pedro kissed your forehead softly. “Every time I see you, I see home.”
Mateo, not missing a beat, made a joking sound that resembled an exaggerated gag behind his juice glass. Pedro shot him a stern look, but the tension dissolved into laughter as you and Javiera exchanged knowing glances.
“One day, you’ll understand the magic of this,” Pedro told Mateo in a firm but affectionate tone.
Mateo grinned and replied, “One day, Tío, I’ll be cool again, just like you used to be!”
That afternoon, with the chaos of the day settling into a serene calm, you and Pedro found solace on the back patio. The twins napped contentedly in their respective spots,one safely on your chest, the other nestled on Pedro’s. The golden sunlight wrapped around you like a gentle embrace, and the only sounds were the soft breathing of sleeping babies and the distant hum of daily life.
Pedro’s hand found yours, and after a long quiet moment, he spoke softly, “You know, I used to be afraid of this,of love, of family. I used to think I had to stay distant, keep the world at arm’s length.”
You turned to him, curiosity twinkling in your tired eyes. “Of what exactly, Pedro?”
He took a deep breath, as if the words had been waiting for this moment. “Of letting someone see everything,the parts of me I always kept hidden. I was so scared to be vulnerable, to let someone in completely.”
You squeezed his hand gently. “But you did, didn’t you? You let me in, and I see all of you, Pedro. Every part,even the messy bits.”
Pedro smiled, a slow dawning realization in his eyes. “And yet, you still chose me, flaws and all.”
“I always will,” you murmured, your voice laden with certainty and love. “We’re not perfect, but we’re perfect for each other.”
He leaned in, and for a long, lingering moment, the world reduced itself to just the two of you,the soft background melody of the patio, the occasional coo of the twins in their sleep, and the promise in his eyes as he kissed you slowly, reverently.
Later that evening, the entire family gathered in the living room for an impromptu storytelling session. Pedro’s aunt, a sharp and witty woman with a sparkling sense of humor, initiated the conversation.
“Tell us, Pedro,” she said, leaning forward with a playful glint in her eye, “what was it like when you first found out you were going to be a dad? We all know it must have been quite the adventure.”
Pedro laughed, shaking his head. “I remember it so clearly. I was sitting in our tiny apartment, and suddenly, everything changed in an instant. I looked at you,yes, my sweet Y/N,and I thought, ‘I’m in trouble now!’” he chuckled.
You interjected warmly, “And look how much trouble it turned out to be,in the best way possible.”
Mateo, who had been listening intently, chimed in, “So, Tío, did you ever think that you’d be swapping stories about diaper disasters and midnight feedings instead of stunt work or filming?”
Pedro shook his head, smiling softly. “Never in a million years. I always thought I’d be out there in the spotlight. But then you came along, and suddenly my greatest role was right here, in this small apartment turned family home.” He paused, his eyes softening as he glanced at you. “It was scary, but it felt… right.”
Javiera added, “And look at you now, Pedro. You’re the heart of our family. Every time I see you with those babies, I’m reminded that family isn’t about perfection,it’s about love and laughter and even a little chaos.”
The room filled with gentle laughter and nods of agreement. Even Mateo, who often prided himself on being the cool one, softened as he listened.
“You know,” Mateo said after a moment, “I guess I’m starting to see that being cool isn’t about having wild adventures all the time. It’s about finding what makes you truly happy,and right now, nothing seems cooler than this family moment.”
Pedro ruffled Mateo’s hair affectionately. “One day you’ll get it, kiddo. It’s all about heart.”
As the night deepened, Pedro and you retreated to your quiet corner of the house. With the twins finally asleep and the rest of the family winding down, you found a moment of peace in each other’s arms. Pedro pulled you close as you sat on the wellworn sofa, the soft strains of a lullaby playing in the background from an old record player.
“Do you remember,” Pedro began, his voice soft and reminiscent, “when you first told me you were pregnant?”
You smiled, warmed by the memory. “How could I ever forget? I was so scared, and you were so calm. You said something like… ‘No matter what, we’ll make magic with this chaos.’ And I thought, ‘Wow, this is the safest bet I’ve ever made.’”
Pedro’s eyes twinkled as he replied, “I remember the way your eyes lit up when you realized life was about to change. I knew then that this was going to be the greatest adventure of our lives.”
The conversation flowed effortlessly into plans for the future. You both discussed dreams for the twins, whether it was exploring the vibrant streets of Santiago, having lazy afternoons in the park, or even learning to sing lullabies together as a family. Every suggestion and memory was punctuated with laughter and the occasional squeeze of the hand,a silent promise that you’d continue building this life together.
“You know,” you whispered after a long pause, “sometimes I worry about the challenges ahead. But then I think of all of this,our little family, this chaotic, beautiful home,and I know we’ll face it together.”
Pedro kissed your hair gently. “We will,” he assured you. “Each laugh, each tear... every challenge only makes us stronger. And every single day, I’m so grateful for you.”
A comfortable silence fell over you both, filled with unspoken words, shared dreams, and the echo of tiny breaths coming from the nursery. Outside, the soft murmur of the night reminded you that even in the quiet, life was alive,and so were you.
In the weeks that followed, the rhythm of your life settled into a gentle harmony. Family dinners turned into delightful gatherings filled with animated dialogues. Pedro’s family would regale you with humorous childhood stories of Pedro, while you added your own tales of love and laughter from your past. Every conversation was an opportunity for new memories and a chance to deepen the connection that bound your small, bustling world together.
One chilly afternoon, as rain pattered softly on the windowpanes, the living room was filled with the sound of cheerful banter. Pedro’s aunt tossed a playful remark during dinner, “Pedro, when did you trade in your stunt double days for diaper duty?”
Pedro laughed heartily. “It was a trade I never thought I’d make, but I wouldn’t change it for the world,” he said, glancing at you with a sincere smile. “After all, who knew that creating life could feel so extraordinary?”
Mateo, sitting across from you with a bowl of steaming soup, nodded thoughtfully. “I guess I’m starting to see that even superheroes have their soft spots. And right now, this family is the coolest thing in your world.”
That evening, as you helped Pedro put the twins to bed, the dialogue continued in hushed tones. “They’re growing so fast,” you said, admiring their peaceful faces as they slept.
Pedro knelt beside you, adjusting the crib. “Yes, they are. And every day, they remind me that love has a way of making every moment,every laugh, every tear,count.”
You looked up at him, your eyes sparkling with unshed dreams. “I never imagined life could be this full, this beautiful. It’s as though every heartbeat has found its home here.”
Pedro’s response was a tender kiss that lingered just long enough to promise a lifetime of shared adventures. “Home isn’t a place,” he murmured, “it’s right here, in every moment we share.”
And so, as the days turned into weeks and weeks into months, your family’s story was written with lines of dialogue, laughter, and love,a narrative threaded together by little voices and big, open hearts.
In those gentle moments of dialogue and shared glances, every word, every laugh, and every whispered "I love you" became the foundation of a new chapter. There in that humble Chilean home, surrounded by the love of family and the promise of each tomorrow, you realized that even in the midst of chaos, nothing was as beautiful as simply being home with you.
