#Pedor pascal

[chicaboom-chic]

Gladiator II- mAsTeR LiSt!

'The gift."PART I

'The gift." PART II

[new-world-mutation]

PEDRO WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[hutchersonsgurl]

[wtf-tfw]

Alias Stakehouse at the stakeout mansion

pedor pascal done ripped my tibian

[boardchairman-blog]

**Shots of the Episode**

The Mandalorian (2019)

Season 2, Episode 7: “Chapter 15: The Believer” (2020) Director: Rick Famuyiwa Cinematographer: Matthew Jensen

[smokahuntis]

Why Do You Only Call Me When You’re High?

Why do you only call me when you’re high?

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Song: Why do you only call me when you’re high? - Arctic Monkeys

Warnings: alcohol abuse, fluff, little bit of angst. Mentions of sex.

Summery: after a terrible day, Javier finds himself drinking, and later calling his ex girlfriend.

Authors note: I made these gifs

The mirrors image, tells me it’s home time

He looked at himself in the stained mirror of the bar bathroom, blurry, discolored. The world around him was shifting, he really over did it tonight. He couldn’t help it tho, today makes 3 months he’s been with her. With her out of his reach, out of his bed and into his head.

He was wrecked already so when he walked out to talk to Steve, Steve already knew. Grabbing Javier’s shoulder and looking at him.

“Want me to take you home? You look pretty spent...” Steve’s concern was pushed aside as Javier shook his head and grabbed his jacket.

“I’ll walk... need to.... clear my head.” He said walking away from Steve, lighting a cigarette on his way to the door.

“Is he going to be okay?” Connie asked looking at Steve, Steve’s eyes never left Javier.

“I think he’ll be fine...” Steve said before sitting down again.

But I’m not finished, because you’re not by my side.

Once he got out onto the streets he reached for his phone, dialing the 10 digit number he memorized from the moment he met her. The dial tone run threw his ears as he walked the humid streets of bogota, she’d answer. She always did.

He stumbled threw the streets with the bulky phone to his ear trying to listen for her voice from the other side, but instead all he heard was a beep.

“Hey, it’s me... it’s- it’s Javier I ... I really need to talk to you” he started before looking up down the street towards where her apartment would be, as if she was looking back at him. “I miss you...”

And as I arrived I thought I saw you leaving, carrying your shoes.

He saw her face everywhere he went, in the faces of people passing. In the brothels, in girls at the bar. She was everywhere, plaguing his mind and heart with the memory of her. It was never supposed to be like this, he was never meant to fall in love with her.

Steve started to notice his distress when someone brought up her name or called her “the informant.” It wasn’t like that, she was never one of those girls he slept with for information. She was technically an Informant but categorizing her with the others disgusted him.

Decided once again I was just dreaming, of bumping into you.

It started with her being one of the cops Escobar bought out, when she turned herself in, the DEA started using her to get information from him. They’d always meet in private so none of Escobars men would see her go to the embassy. And it was always Javier, no one else. He missed when it was simpler, when it was them talking about what she knew and having a few drinks. He missed the first time, when she thought she’d been discovered and had a break down and he comforted her, and one thing led to another. They swore it was a one time thing but he always came back for more.

They broke up because they weren’t meant for a relationship, Javier slept around for information and she was a C.I . When Escobar got locked up in “La Catedral” a lot of the people he paid were cut off, and that included her. She was no longer an informant, therefor not important to the embassy, but that didn’t change his visits to her. She called it off because she couldn’t take what he did, how he acted and who he was with. He understood, but it broke him more then he’d care to admit, because she wasn’t sex and information for him. She was someone to come home to, someone who cleaned him up after a bad day and took care of him.

Now it’s 3 in the morning, and I’m trying to change your mind.

He called her again, leaving another message. Then another, and another. It was killing him to not hear her voice, to not hear his name roll off her tongue, or a simple hello.

He’d give anything to just be with her right now, to have her in his arms, in his bed. To kiss her skin and lips, to lay her down and make love to her like he has no other. Love, that’s what this feeling was, he was in love with her.

Left you multiple missed calls and to my message you reply.

It wasn’t the first time he’d done this either, it became a normal thing on days like this. It’s why Steve didn’t force him into the car and back to his apartment, he knew where Javier was going, knew the phone he was calling and the name he was asking for. Sometimes it hurt Steve to see Javier like this, but sometimes it reminded him the he too has a heart.

So when Javier stumbled out of the bar Steve let him, knowing the outcome as always. (Y/n) would take him home and put him to bed and leave, leaving an upset Javier for Steve to deal with the next day. But Javier needed it, needed her to push him away so he’d understand. She never answered the phone, never left him a message, because it hurt her as much as it did him.

“Why do you only call me when you’re high?”

The voice startled the DEA agent, not used to hearing someone at the end of the line. He was at a lost for words. He tried processing the silence thinking maybe he didn’t hear it. But she spoke again.

“Javier?” He voice was annoyed but still gentle. So he said the first thing that came into his head.

“Hi, why do you only call me when you’re High?”

She rolled her eyes on the other end, she hated him when he did this but she didn’t want him to be alone. “How much did you drink Javi?”

Javi... she said Javi, she gave him home. So much hope.

Somewhere darker, talkin the same shite

“Only a little...” such a liar, and she knew it. She let out a small chuckle, enjoying hearing his voice again, even if it was like this. After her pause he spoke again, just to keep her on the line. “Okay maybe a lot...”

“What are you doing right now Javier?” She asked concerned for his safety, checking the time. On a normal day he would be there by now to annoy her and have her take him home. She looked out the window not seeing him, it worried her.

“I need a partner, Well are you out tonight?”

She groaned and looked out again finally seeing him come around the corner. “I’m where I always am Javi...” she watched him stumble, biting back a giggle. “Now hurry up I need to take you home...”

he groaned threw the phone. “I don’t want you to take me home.” He looked up seeing her threw her window and he stopped and smiling. His heart fluttered seeing her in the oversized shirt as she looked at him from her second story apartment.

An’ I can’t see you here, wonderin where am I

She looked at the time again seeing how late it already was. She really didn’t want to drive this late, so she’s let him in. She walked over buzzing him in when he got to the main door.

He was even more shocked when it clicked and let him in, he still knew how to get to her apartment like the back of his hand. Knocking on her door, she opened up looking at him, he was quick to notice the tan button up that covered her body was his. The top two buttons undone teasing him.

It sort of feels like I’m runnin’ out of time.

She moved letting him in, helping him take off his jacket. He looked at her, neither of them said a word as his heard beat out of his chest. He really didn’t know what to do, he never got this far. Javier Peña, at a loss for words.

“Aren’t you going to take me home?” He finally let out looking at her, her apartment hasn’t changed at all, plants still flooding over the shelves and making it feel like home. Yet something felt off.

I haven’t found all I was hopin’ to find

“I don’t feel like driving all the way across Bogota this late.” She said going into her room and grabbing a blanket for him. Laying it down on the couch before grabbing a bottle of water for him. “Here...”

He took it from her before walking around the small apartment looking for what felt off, she just crossed her arms and watched him as she leaned against the arch way to the living room. When he couldn’t tell what was wrong she finally answered it for him. “I got rid of your pictures...” he turned looking at her kinda hurt but he knew why. She continued.

You said you gotta be up in the morning, gotta have an early night.

She sat him down on the couch, helping him out of his boots. “Why do you take such good care of me...” he mumbled out looking at her.

“Why do you show up at my house still?” She asked looking up at him from her spot on the floor. He reached down taking her hand, she didn’t stop him as he pulled her into the couch with her. She knew she’d regret all of this in the morning but right now she was to tired to care.

An’ you’re startin’ to bore me, baby

She sat next to him, partly on his lap as he pushed loose hair away from her face. His eyes flicked to her lips then her eyes, his tongue darting over his bottom lip. “Because I love you...”

She couldn’t believe the words that left his mouth, he’d never said that to her sober so she wasn’t excepting it while he was drunk. “No you don’t...” she said shaking her head trying to push the thought of him meaning it away. His hand came up to caress her cheek lazily.

“How do you know that?” He asked looking at her, and she quickly countered with another question.

“Why do you only call me when you’re high?”

He shook his head, and looked at her. “Because I’m scared...” his voice didn’t have its normal cocky tone, it was quiet and tired and sad. “Because I don’t think sober me can take the rejection...”

“The rejection?” She took in a deep breathe and ran her fingers threw his hair. “Javi... I broke up with you because I thought the only thing you cared about was my job... what I could give to you...” he looked genuinely hurt, hurt that she thought she was just work to him.

Now it’s three in the mornin’

“You weren’t just a job to me, mi amour...” he looked over her figure, cloaked in his favorite shirt, a shirt he thought he lost. Her legs exposed to him as his large warm hand came down to run across the soft skin of her thighs.

“I can tell you didn’t think of me as work either...” he said, his hand now playing with the end of the shirt.

And I’m tryin’ to change your mind

“I never thought of you as work...” she said looking at him, her head playing with his hair. “The moment you kissed me you weren’t just work, you weren’t just a hook up Javier, not for me...” He nodded his eyes finding her lips again.

“Then why did you end it...” he asked finding her eyes again.

“Because I thought this was work for you... if I’d have known I wouldn’t have...” even drunk he could tell she meant it, plus he was starting to sober up at this point.

Left you multiple missed calls

“Can we try again...” he asked quietly, barley Audible, she wouldn’t have heard him if she wasn’t so close. She chuckled and nodded.

“How about we talk more in the morning...” he nodded, but before she could move away from him she captured her lips in a kiss that spoke volumes to both of them. Her hands moved finding his cheeks, his hands falling to her waist pulling her onto his lap completely. The kiss lasted for a minute before she pulled away and he tried to chase her lips, needing the contact. Her finger rest on his lips stopping him.

“You’re drunk...get some sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.” She said looking at him.

And to my message you reply

“Lay with me?” He asked and she nodded, he quickly shifted them so he was laying on the couch and she laid on him. She giggled in surprise as she looked down at him now.

“Goodnight Javier...” she said giving him one last kiss before laying her head on his chest. He smiled and closed his eyes, slowly drifting to sleep. Right before he fell into the abyss of sleep his head repeated her question, wondering the same thing.

Why do you only call me when you’re high?

Taglist: @pascalisthepunkest @thinemineours @morgannope @fleurdemiel145

[vonschweetz]

DAMN SONY/PLAYSTATION HAS GOT OSCAR ISAAC AS SOLID SNAKE AND PEDRO PASCAL AS JOEL FROM THE LAST OF US?! THEY WON. THEY ABSOLUTELY WON.

[yourstrulylightstar283]

Nice. ^^

Pedro being silly and sexy at the same time 😍

[dinpascal]

No Good Deed — Din Djarin

No Good Deed — Chapter One

➥ There��s an unconscious Mandalorian outside your door, along with some tiny, green thing clutching at his cloak. There has to be some sort of manual that tells you what to do in this situation... Right? 

There were many things to hate about Nevarro. The miles and miles of just-barely crusted over magma, the Rebels that tended to brush through every now and again, acting all high and mighty and as if they were too good to set foot on such a planet. However, without a single doubt, the thing you hated the most was the damn Guild.

You had never been the type of person to judge another for their method of survival. You had done many... unsatisfactory things in your lifetime, just to see another day. A few of those still kept you awake at night, debating whether you were deserving of what you had, no matter how miniscule. The Guild, however, was an entirely different thing.

Perhaps it was the mere fact that at least seventy percent of the people you served were hunters from the Guild. And if not already in the Guild, aiming for opportunity to be. They were a cocksure group, always carrying themselves with an aura of arrogance and as if they were allowing you the privilege of surviving. As if your little, insignificant life was balanced between their fingers, because they were all so skilled in the art of bounty hunting.

A lot of mudscuffers, in your opinion.

You wiped your palms down your apron, which did little about the stickiness that was present from hours of drink-making. The hairs were no-doubt spilling from your braid, hardly remembering to breathe in-between each order and the chaos that surrounded you. Creatures of all kind called out to you in many  different languages, some you understood and others you required your “partner” to translate. The droid was good for nothing apart from that, perhaps apart from being perpetually in your way. It reached the point where you no longer felt guilty for bumping it out of your way. 

Today, evidently, was Greef Karga’s awaited return from some mission, leading to the assembly of many (impatiently) awaiting their next bounty. In other words, the bar was way past its capacity limit. Many patrons were shoulder-to-shoulder, filling the building with endless, buzzing chatter that made the ache that much more present at your brow.

“C’mon, I’ve been trying for months. Why don’t you let me take you out? Just one night?” You eyed your suitor as you collected empty glasses and bottles, eyeing him with a thoroughly practiced smile that gave him the impression you enjoyed his company. It was something you were forced to learn early in this occupation, if you were even remotely interested in tips. Customers, males especially, enjoyed feeling wanted. As if they had any semblance of a chance with the “pretty thing” that served them drinks behind the counter.

“Cardon, you know I don’t date bounty hunters.” You replied, taking a moment to take another order and busying yourself with making it. Luckily, very few (if any) frequenters drank anything complicated, often preferring spotchka and even simple shots of hooch.

The dark-skinned hunter smiled, moving to brush his hair back with a gloved hand. “And why not? Don’t think you could handle one?” If you had to decide, Cardon wasn’t the worst of the bunch you could choose from. He had ebony hair that touched the top his shoulders, the top half often twisted into a bun. He was tall enough, but quite lanky compared to many of the other hunters that frequented the cantina. 

You bit the inside of your cheek to stop from laughing. If you had to guess, the majority of the hunters you served only had one head. Instead of commenting further, you motioned towards his glass. “Want another, Cardon?” He waved a hand in silent agreement, seemingly coming to terms that he was, yet again, striking out with you. 

“I think I’m your relief for the night.” You turned, positively beaming at the sight of olive skin and black eyes. “Alejad... My savior.” He grinned wickedly and threw a rag over his shoulder, lightly tsking at the mess you’d made of the bar. 

“So very messy. Have I not taught you a thing?” 

With a roll of your eyes and slight scoff, you began fingering the knot of your apron. “We’ll see how lucky you end up tonight. Karga isn’t even supposed to be showing up until second sundown.” You brushed your hand over his shaved head as you passed behind him, an act of affection you’d picked up in the time you’d worked together. Alejad had been the one to train you, considering no one else apart from the two of you seemed to want to work in this hunk of junk somehow considered a “proper establishment”. 

Stepping out of the back entrance with your day’s tips firmly shoved in your pocket, the silence of the alley was almost dizzying compared to what you’d dealt with for the last seven hours. Despite the distant sounds of the hustle and bustle of the market, it was much more preferable. Almost anything was preferable to being cat-called and yelled at all day. 

With a sigh and a brush of the back of your hand across your forehead, you finally made your way home. It wasn’t a far walk, just a few twists and turns that made it a comfortable enough walk to and from work. Your home was nothing exciting, nothing more than what you absolutely needed — the absolute bare essentials. It had once served as some kind of building for the Imps that were once stationed on Nevarro and eventually separated into two, unconnected homes once the Imps were chased (or killed) out. A little family had moved into the home above yours, made up of a young Twi’lek couple and a little, rose-colored girl you doubted had seen more than five cycles. You often found her crouched outside your home, digging through the dirt to find new additions to her rock collection. On the rarest of days, when you’d either be leaving or just returning from the bar, she’d already be outside as the first sun was rising and would offer you a toothless smile that made your heart warm. 

However, given the first sun was only just beginning to set, there was no young girl parading about the property. Hopefully, she was busy eating a plentiful dinner with her parents and had a nice, warm bed to look forward to tonight. 

The door creaked as you stepped inside, double-checking that you’d locked it behind you before making your way (all three steps of it) to the kitchen. With a quick look in the conservator, it seemed for the fourth night in a row now, you were having broth for dinner. With a sigh, you discarded your dirty apron aside and flipped the oven on to reheat your soup. It seemed you were in dire need for a trip to the market. 

There were a dozen and a half things you needed to do around the house, including a deep clean of your floors, as well as stripping your bed and washing the linens that you’d ignored for much too long. Taking the trash out was sufficient enough for the night, right? Right.

The evening air was cool against your skin, the first emergence of the first sunfall of the night beginning to appear. In a matter of hours, the cool air would soon become too cold to bear without some kind of protection. It was an interesting contradiction. While the ground beneath your feet was warm, almost hot to the touch because of the molten lava beneath it, the air was often cool and bleak the moment the suns began to sleep for the night. 

A soft noise behind you drew you from your thoughts, nothing more than a gentle, sad coo. You immediately turned, worrying a young babe had dodged their parents and was now exploring with no supervision. While Nevarro was now exponentially safer now that the Imps were gone, it still was no place for a child to be roaming at first sunfall. 

The last thing, actually very last thing you had expected was the sight before you. A Mandalorian slumped against your home with a little, green creature clutching at the frayed ends of his cloak. It regarded you for no longer than a moment, big eyes quickly returning to the hunter and cooing softly once more, as if urging him to get up. It tugged at the cloak again, its free hand bumping against his shoulder as if the tiny jostle would wake him.

You stood there a moment, almost afraid to take another step towards the pair. Though you’d never met a Mandalorian yourself, their reputation was enough to make your legs shake a bit under your weight. None too long ago, one had caused the entire town to burst into gunfire and killed dozens of other hunters. Undoubtedly, he (was it a he?) knew more than a dozen ways to kill you. And the creature? While it looked harmless enough now, how could you know if it would begin spewing venom at you the moment you took two steps towards it? If you’d learned anything growing up, it was to not trust a species you didn’t know. And you’d learned that lesson the hard way. 

As if aware of your thoughts, its eyes turned towards you once more and made another sad sound. It pulled at something deep inside you, something dormant and untraveled. Whatever it was, it urged you to move your damn feet and make the poor thing stop giving you those big, sorrowful eyes. 

“Okay...” Hesitantly, as if standing eye-to-eye with a Nexu, you braved a step forward. When it didn’t abruptly move or hiss, you took another. “Hey... little guy,” you murmured, eyes flickering from gleaming silver to the little one’s, “What happened?” 

It whined pitifully, turning towards the Mandalorian with a three-fingered hand as if motioning towards him and saying, ‘help him, will ya?’. 

If it were any other situation, you may have found the little creature amusing. It didn’t seem to be able to speak, but its body language and big, bug eyes were expressive enough. 

Once you were close enough to touch the Mandalorian, you slowly kneeled and made sure it stayed in your peripheral. You doubted it would suddenly sprout wings at this point, but you could never be too sure. Maybe it enjoyed playing with its food. 

“I’m gonna... Take him inside, okay?” Much to your surprise, it nodded and backed away a couple paces to give you space. Okay, so the green thing was intelligent. Good to know. 

With a steadying breath, you maneuvered your way around the Mandalorian so you could (attempt to) lift him. You imagined his armor couldn’t be light by any means, meaning you were going to have to carry a man already twice your weight, along with that much more in armor. “Knew I should have bought those weights...”

Sliding your arms under his armpits and securing your hold through intertwining your hands over his chest, you figured this was the best chance you had. There was no way you were getting him up over your shoulder and you figured dragging him by his feet wasn’t the best method, in case of a possible head injury. 

The breath immediately whooshed out of your lungs as you straightened, using gravity to your advantage and using the force to drag him backwards, instead of back down like it wanted. The little rag-covered bean waddled after you, apparently not willing to allow the Mandalorian out of his sight. 

The helmet lulled forward as you mostly-dragged him into your home, most certainly and unquestionably out cold. 

In the middle of your kitchen, you paused. Where the hell were you going to put him? The kitchen certainly wasn’t spacious enough for him. It was hardly enough room for you to comfortably move about. 

That left your bedroom.

“Just a little farther, alright?” You huffed, suddenly very keenly aware of the heaviness in your shoulders and triceps. The creature stumbling after the Mandalorian’s feet cooed in response, seemingly more content now than before. 

It took you much longer than you would’ve liked, but eventually, you somehow managed to get the damn guy on your bed. His feet hung over the bed and no doubt was coating your sheets in dirt and blood and who knew what else. At least they already needed washed.

After taking a moment (minutes, really) to catch your breath and watching the bean climb its way up your bed and back to the Mandalorian’s side, you once more found yourself at a loss. What the hell do you do now? 

Checking him for injuries was probably the best next course of action. You didn’t want the guy to die right here, on your bed, right?  

With your hands on your hips and a sweat breaking out over your brow, you looked in the what you now mentally referred to as the bean’s direction. “These guys have something against taking off their helmet, right?” Your response was a sound you couldn’t quite differentiate between amusement and agreement. Nevertheless, you nodded. “That’s what I thought.” 

After another few minutes of heavy consideration, you decided starting from the bottom-up was probably your best bet. If you were lucky, he was just incredibly sleep-deprived and absolutely nothing else was wrong with him. 

The little bean at his shoulder watched as you methodically undressed the Mandalorian, beginning with the armor as his shoulders and then moving to his chest plate. You made a small stack of it just beside your bed, being careful to not add any dinks or scratches that weren’t already on them. 

With shaky fingers, you began lifting his shirt to inspect any possible torso wounds. You were met with caramel skin etched in paler, puffier skin in various places where he’d been wounded and scarred over. A trail of dark, nearly black hair drew your gaze below his belly button and disappearing into his trousers.

You swallowed. This was not the time.

“Stomach looks good.” You mumbled, mostly to yourself. You pushed the fabric up further until it was under his chin, fingers delicately brushing across an angry, red line just below his left clavicle. It didn’t look serious and most likely just a result from his armor pressing into his skin, but it gave you an excuse to feel his skin beneath your fingertips. His chest was faintly dotted with hair, nipples pebbling at the sudden exposure to the air. “Chest looks good too.”

That left on more thing to check, the one thing you were hoping you wouldn’t have to do. 

You sank back onto your haunches for a moment, teeth anxiously worrying at the inside of your cheek as you considered your options. You didn’t have to do anything — you’d already given him and his... pet? Child? Friend? Somewhere to rest and checked him for any serious, deadly injuries. On the other hand, however, what if he did have a head injury? Without aid, a head injury could easily and quickly result in death. And you certainly didn’t want a dead Mandalorian on your hands. 

“Second option it is.” You murmured, brushing your palms down your trousers and taking a soothing breath. “But,” you began, pointing a finger in the air as you looked towards the bean. “I am not being that person.” You disappeared out of the room for a moment, quickly returning with a clean rag and making a show so the bean could see it. “See?” 

The bean, seemingly content, made an inquisitive sound. With one hand, you curled your fingers under the helmet’s edge and searched for the locking mechanism. Once you felt the tiny button, you nudged it and released a breath as it unlocked. “Okay, okay... Just gotta do this quick...”

With one, shaky hand, you gently tugged the helmet free from his head, immediately snapping your eyes shut the second you no longer felt the weight of his head. Discarding the heavy thing aside, you took the rag and, as efficiently as possible with your eyes firmly shut, placed it over his face. Though it wouldn’t make breathing especially easier, it at least would preserve some of his modesty. 

Once finished, you took a deep breath and regarded your work. You turned towards the bean with a triumphant smile. “Not bad, yeah?”

The bean regarded the rag with something akin to distaste but you couldn’t be sure. It was difficult to distinguish every emotion with its tiny face. The majority of your basis was just on its eyes.

You maneuvered your way around the pile of metal on your floor, as well as your own things to the head of the bed, eyes settling on the head of brown, presumably thick hair that stuck out from under the rag.

When was the last time someone so much as had seen a strand of his hair? Had anyone ever? Yet there you were, looking at not only it, but nearly everything else aside from his face. 

You eyed the creature currently tracing a three-fingered claw up the Mandalorian’s arm. It seemed... Conflicted. As if the whole world rested on its little shoulders, now that the Mandalorian was no longer protecting it. Its tiny features were pinched in worry, shoulders slumped forward and ears drooping at the corners. 

You wanted to console the little thing, except you still weren’t completely sure it wouldn’t nip at you if you got too close. 

Turning your attention back to the man (because at the current moment, he seemed to pose less danger), you cautiously slid your fingers around the back of his head. There was nothing but thick, course hair, even as you rounded the back of his head. At the very least, there were no external injuries. 

Until you looked down. 

And found that his foot was twisted at an angle that it most definitely wasn’t supposed to. 

“Well, kriff.” You mumbled, mostly to yourself. You regarded the said appendage for awhile, unsure quite what to do now. It wasn’t that you didn’t know what to do, but moreso the fact that you weren’t sure you wanted to go snapping a bounty hunter’s leg back into place. It was usually something a person informed another of before doing. 

With a sigh, you turned your attention back to the little bean. Though you had little to no clue if it was capable of understanding you (though it had somewhat shown it could), it made you the teensiest amount less nervous to talk to it. “Maybe it’s better to do it while he’s out. What do you think?” The bean babbled something incoherently. You nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking too.”

✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ - ✷ 

Surprisingly, the Mandalorian hardly flinched when you snapped his ankle back into place. Most surprisingly, he hadn’t woken up either. Hours later and he was still completely dead to the world. Numerous times you had to check to make sure he was still breathing. 

After about hour five, the bean decided to venture from his side. It appeared at your feet just as you were elbow-deep in washing, first inquisitively watching you scrub at your clothes, as if you were doing something it had never quite seen.

“Hey, little... Guy,” you finished lamely, pausing to eye the green creature as its head tilted to the side and those big eyes blinked. It made a soft sound, as if expecting you to easily understand. When you didn’t immediately react, it’s features pinched and it threw its arms up as if it were exclaiming something as it spewed into further coos and babbles.

You stared blankly.

What would a small, green creature want? A new, preferably clean rag for clothes? For you to throw something so you could chase it? Something to sink its little teeth into?

You faulted for a moment in your thinking. “Are you hungry?” It nodded immediately, fingers touching its belly and watching you with a look that clearly said ‘that’s what I was saying!’. “Okay, well, what do you eat?” It blinked as you stood from your washing, little feet tapping against the tiled floor as it followed you. “All I really have is broth, so it’s either broth or nothing.” It didn’t make any sound of disagreement or disappointment, so you took it as enough agreement and poured the still-warm broth (which you’d forgotten about until the stove beeped indignantly at you, still preoccupied with snapping a literal bone back into place) into a bowl. When it took the bowl you offered it, it blinked at it for a moment. Then it blinked up at you. 

“What? It’s all I got, little guy so I—,” It cut you off as it set the bowl down, before lifting its arms up that very plainly was uppity arms that babies were known for doing. It left you to stand there for a moment, mouth falling open and eyebrows shooting upwards. “You’re a kid?”

It babbled impatiently, big eyes looking at its meal before back up at you again. “Okay, um...” Slowly, still not completely sure you trusted it, you picked it up and then its bowl of broth. “You need... Help?” It cooed in what you assumed was agreement.

That was how you found yourself sitting at your table, some kind of child creature sitting in your lap as you spoon-fed it broth and occasionally pausing to let it babble something or burp. 

It was quite the character, you were learning. 

And quite the conversationalist. If only you could understand a word it was saying. 

Then you felt the atmosphere change... Shift. Where calm once sat, something you could only describe as charged replaced it. The child seemed to notice as well. Its head turned toward your bedroom, softly squealing and clapping its hands together. The Mandalorian was awake. There was a moment of silence as the dread pooled in your belly and a chill ran down your spine. 

This was the moment you hadn’t really considered. Many people, especially a Mandalorian, wouldn’t like waking up in a strange place with their armor stripped and their damned helmet off. 

Dank farrick, you just had to go and get yourself involved.

The seconds stretched as complete silence filled your home. Not even the child made another sound, though it was evident its feelings were a stark contrast from your own. Of course, it hadn’t dragged a Mandalorian into its home and practically stripped him bare. 

There was a flash of silver at the doorway of your bedroom. 

No good deed goes unpunished indeed. 

[artemiseamoon]

When The Lights Go Out

An Omar Assarian x f reader fic

Status: complete

An: will be under a mass edit later this year, but not yet.

About:

Even though you and Omar drifted apart, he remained stained on your heart. During your latest trip home the two of you are forced to face your past.

Chapters

1 , 2 , 3 , 4

[chicaboom-chic]

“The Gift” -PART TWO

“It is morning, and I need my cock sucked,” Tags: Lucius Versus Fanfic, gay, 18+, written while smoking crack.

Word count: 1424

I write slop.... i think it is funny...

The crickets were chirping away that night. They were loud and scattered in the grassy planes outside of the Colosseum. Lucius listens to them as he sits on the floor of his cell. He nurses a cup in one hand, a Janus of wine in his other; a gift for his feats in the arena today, though it gives no comfort. It only serves to dull the mind and his senses. The heat in the room eats at him too, it is small and stuffy, and his breath comes out thick.

Alcohol and heat, a bad combination. They eat away at Lucius’s sense. His mind begins to conceive less-than-intelligent thoughts. He lolls his head in the direction of the cell bars, and without even perceiving or thinking about what he’s doing, he calls to the guard. 

Lucius hiccups at the sight of the guard in front of his door. “Bring the boy.” He slurs. Sure enough, the boy is brought to his cell and the door is locked. Lucius is slightly surprised, he had asked for the boy but he had not expected him to come so easily, he had not anticipated that the emperors would allow him back after the first rejection. Perhaps the emperors were generous. Or perhaps Lucius was very drunk.

Lucius stumbles onto his feet. He squints at the young man. “How old are you, boy?” He barks.

The young man swallows, he keeps his eyes on the floor as he answers. “Nine and ten.”

Lucius kisses his teeth. Young but not that young. He instructs the lad to sit on the bed with a gruff command and then he sets his Janus down on the ground but keeps the cup in his shaky hand. He merely stares at the boy as he sits there, a long, hard, and cold stare. He isn’t sure what to do, or why he had summoned the boy. He has no desire for him, no real reason to call him but yet he cannot stop staring.

Lucius sways as he still stands above the young man. A sinister thought flashes through his mind, a thought, no rather, a vision is conjured in his mind. In his vision his rough hands are around the lad’s throat, they tighten each time there is any sign of air left over. He imagines the satisfaction he would feel once the emperors and Macrinus discover their gift has been rejected not only once but twice, now more so brutally.

It would be a scorn no like other. However, when Lucius looks down at the young man and gazes upon him properly, peering into his big brown eyes, he finds he can derive no joy from such an act, no matter how satisfying it could be.

Lucius sighs. “What do you expect of me, boy?” He says tiredly, his body feels significantly heavier since the time he started standing.

“I expect to pleasure you, to make you feel good.” The young man’s voice isn’t as feminine as he thought it would be. It is a pleasant surprise, but it’s squandered by his answer that sounds so rehearsed.

Lucius bites his lip. He finally sets his cup down on the windowsill. He lumbers towards the young man. He hears the lad audibly gulp. Lucius grunts and stops before him, bumping him just a touch. The young man's knees brush against his legs.

“What is your name? Lucius slurs. 

“Appius.” 

Lucius grunts again and grabs the boy's face. His body is now heavier than before, his eyelids droop, making it hard for him to concentrate. He opens his mouth to speak but all that comes out is a mixture of slurs and grunts. He is pissed out of his mind and has no sense at all to call for a guard. 

Appius’s face scrunches up with confusion. He intends to speak or try to remove Lucius’s hand, but the gladiator succumbs to the wine and collapses on him. He takes them both down. Appius gasps and squirms beneath Lucius's weight, but try as he may, he is unable to free himself. Appius's eyes dart to the cell door. It is locked the guard is nowhere to be seen. He considers calling for help but stops when he realizes that he has not been dismissed or completed what had Lucius intended for him....whatever it was. He also did not want to anger his masters by summoning them at this time of night.

Appius lets out a sigh and looks to the ceiling. He adjusts himself enough under Lucius to get comfortable in the small bed. The young man rolls his eyes. It is a nuisance but it is not the worst thing he’s ever been subjected to.

Appius watches Lucius as he sleeps, the gladiator’s features are much softer as he when he relaxes. He’s much more handsome when he is not glaring. Appius also takes note of the gentle touch yet firm hold that Lucius has despite the roughness of his hands. Appius feels Lucius shift throughout the night, but he never lets Appius go. He keeps the lad cocooned softly in his arms. This eases Appius into a gentle sleep.

This is certainly not the worst thing he has been subjected to.

˜”*°•.˜”*°˜”*°•.˜”*°˜”*°•.˜”*°˜”*°•.˜”*°

In the morning, Lucius awakes with his head throbbing as if a million tiny needles are pricking at his brain. He winces and sits up with a groan. As he moves, his body he nearly topples off the bed. He grabs the sides quickly. Here he notices the other person occupying his space and taking up half the bed.  His heart sinks, but only for a moment, before it resumes its regular pattern of beats. He exhales.

It is only the gift. He lays back beside the young man, who still slumbers and instinctively wraps his hand around him. The morning is sobering him up, he’s much more cognizant, though the wine lingers here and there. Still, his sense has returned and so has his wrath. The night had given him time to think. His hands tighten around the boy’s waist, he hungers for revenge, but he will not seek it in the way he sought it before.

“Wake up,” Lucius grunts. His voice is deep and gravelly, it breaks through the silence. “Wake up. Appius.” It takes some coaxing and nudging but the lad eventually awakens. He whines and looks over at Lucius.

Lucius stares back at him. “It is morning.” 

“Aye, it is.” Appius nods. He moves to sit up, but Lucius keeps him down.

“It is morning, and I need my cock sucked,” Lucius demands instead of asking. The command alone drains the sleep from Appius’s mind. His eyes widen.

“Preferably before I am called away for morning combat training,” Lucius adds rather bluntly.

Appius nods, stammering out an obedient and diligent ‘Of course.’ He moves between Lucius’s legs and fumbles with the material of his toga. He quickly takes out Lucius’s cock and swallows it whole. It is half hard in the mouth but it still tickles the back of his throat.

Lucius grunts and his hips buck up slightly as he sits up and as Appius slurps his cock up with a ferocity he’s never felt before. Lucius has to cover the young man with a blanket to not only silence the noise but to preserve his modesty. He looks down at the bobbing head beneath the blanket and places a hand atop it. Lucius grunts and hides a groan by biting his lip.

This is obscene, unnatural, and deviant. He thinks. But so are his plans for revenge, plans that unironically involve a male prostitute sucking his cock.

Lucius releases a shaky breath from his mouth that mingles with a maon. He leans his head against the wall and guides Appius’s movements, pushing his head down further. He fucks the boys mouth as best as he, still hunger over and tired.

"Dear gods." Lucius groans.

If using this boy was a step towards revenge against the general, the emperors, and Macrinus then he would gladly do it. What was a little pleasure along the way? He would find out what Macrinus was plotting but for now, he would enjoy his gift.

Little did Lucius know, Macrinus had similar ideas. 

By the afternoon, Macrinus had been informed by a spy that Lucius had thoroughly enjoyed his gift. Macrinus smiles as he sits in his garden, the bait has been taken.

˜”°•.˜”°˜”°•.˜”°˜”°•.˜”°˜”°•.˜”°

See, I like to cook up what people call slop fanfiction... hehehe

[hutchersonsgurl]

Papiiiii

[absurdthirst]

✍ + more bi pedor pascal characters :) please

You know they have my heart. ❤️

[magicrowiswritingstuff]

Not me lying in bed and heavily considering to start writing for Javier Pena, too... Only problem... I don't know a lick of Spanish 😭

Is this blog evolving into a Pedor Pascal blog? Hey, not my fault I'm falling in love with all the characters he portraits 🤷‍♀️🥺

[vonschweetz]

At this rate Pedro Pascal is gonna play every dad role in Hollywood until someone physically just gives him a baby

[sloth-lady-s]

THE FACE HE MADE WHEN THE BABY SQUEALED *I LOST IT* “Because of the paternal feeling it is inspiring in me at the moment...” *NO NOW I ACTUALLY REALLY LOST IT*