#pedro pascal updates

[littlcdarlin]

Pedro via his insta stories trying to kill us (25th of December 24)

[dontlookatme121]

this is so sick and twisted

[pascalisthepunkest]

HAPPY 50th BIRTHDAY, PEDRO!

[wheresarizona]

Joel Miller vibes:

[khawla-gfm2]

📰Khawla's Family Campaign Update: 40📰

$5,772/$20,000 as of September 23rd [10pm CDT]

Currently $228 away from $6,000 as a short term goal.

The next immediate target is $10,000 as the halfway mark of the initial goal.

Please consider donating even just $5, $10, or $20 to help push the campaign further along to reaching it's goal! And keep reblogging/sharing the campaign so that more people who can donate may see it!

[for more information on the campaign: check my pinned post, the campaign page itself, or message me directly if you have any questions]

[tag list under the cut]:

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[messrmoonyy]

May Calamawy as Fortuna // Gladiator 2

[hellishjoel]

HOT DILF SUMMER CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

hot dilf summer challenge post

☼ outage by @taeslarityy (dilf joel miller x curvy f!reader)

☼ the dilf's prayer by @miss-oranje-disco-dancer (dilf joel miller x reader)

☼ neighbors with benefits masterlist by @joelswritingmistress (dilf joel miller x f!reader)

☼ dirty laundry by @taeslarityy (dark dilf dave york x f!reader)

☼ who's your daddy? by @gutsby (dilf stepdad!joel x f!reader)

☼ nothing like some neighborly love by @tofics (dilf joel miller x f!reader)

☼ wedding crashers by @yxtkiwiyxt (dilf joel miller x f!reader)

☼ a neighbor in need by @auteurdelabre (dilf joel miller x f!reader)

☼ take the heat away, make the girl stay by @noceurous (dilf dave york x f!reader)

☼ this could have been an email by @auteurdelabre (dilf dave york x f!reader)

☼ daddy's girl by @clawdeewritesfanfic ( dilf dbf!tim rockford x f!reader)

☼ guilty pleasure by @for-a-longlongtime (dilf dbf!joel miller x reader)

☼ welcomed distraction by @dc418writes (dilf dbf!frankie morales x reader)

☼ never made it as a wise man by @almostempty (dilf joel miller x f!reader)

☼ like tiramisu by @coquettepascal (dilf joel miller x f!reader)

☼ you'll just have to taste me by @thetriumphantpanda (dilf joel miller x f!reader)

☼ i'd like to... by @ak-vintage (dilf din djarin x plus size f!reader)

[pascalispunkczechia]

So this is You

Summary: You weren’t expecting much from that run through the park. Definitely not the kind-eyed stranger you nearly knocked over, or the quiet way something shifted when he smiled at you. Lunch leads to laughter. A walk leads to something warmer. Sometimes, the right person doesn’t scare you off. Sometimes, they show you you’ve never been too much at all.

Warnings: fluff, strangers to lovers, surprise pregnancy, emotional vulnerability, soft kisses, established relationship, emotional intimacy, hopeful ending, reader POV, mutual pining but also mutual trying, canon-divergent (The Mentalist), accidental meeting, slow build

It was a warm May afternoon. After a few rainy days, the sun finally came out over D.C.

You grabbed your running gear - a sports top and tight leggings - and pulled your hair up into a messy bun. Eh, good enough.

You headed out and started at a slower pace, jogging straight toward the park in front of the Washington Monument. It wasn’t too crowded today, not many tourists around, which was a win. You picked up the pace a little, running past the pond, trying to soak in the sunshine tickling your face.

This was your favorite time of year in D.C. You’d lived here for over five years now, had a solid job, and the only thing missing, sometimes, was someone to come home to. You shook that thought off quickly and kept going.

A few minutes later, you felt your watch buzz lightly on your wrist. You glanced down just for a second to check if it was anything important… and slammed, full speed, into something. Someone!

You stumbled, nearly going down, but a pair of strong arms caught you just in time. “Hey, hey, you okay?” The voice was warm, gentle. The hands holding you steady didn’t let go right away, just in case.

Still a little dazed, you looked up and locked eyes with a man in his forties, a full head taller than you. First thing you noticed: his eyes. Soft brown, kind, and at the moment, a little concerned.

“Uh… yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. Thank you,” you stammered, and the man slowly let go. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I totally ran into you.”

“It’s alright, really. I probably shouldn’t have been standing in the middle of the running path,” he said, smiling as he shrugged.

“Well… it’s not exactly a running path,” you replied with a quick grin, glancing him over, not meaning to stare, but… yeah. You probably just crashed into the most handsome man in all of D.C. His short brown hair was half-styled, half-messed-up by the breeze. A mustache, light stubble, and… wait! Dimples?! He was wearing a grayish-brown blazer, a red tie, and a white shirt.

“Well, maybe not,” he chuckled, “but I’ve lived here long enough to notice most people around here run.” You caught him giving you a subtle once-over too, but not in a gross way. Not even flirty, really. Just… interested. Warm.

“How long?” you asked, possibly too blunt.

He raised an eyebrow. “Sorry?”

“I meant - how long have you been living here?”

“Oh,” he laughed, a little sheepishly. “Four months. I moved here from Sacramento. Work stuff…” He trailed off, like something had just come to mind but he pushed it away before it could stick.

“From California, huh? That’s a pretty big move. How are you handling the weather here?” Seriously, did you just ask him about the weather?!

He didn’t seem to mind. He smiled again. “Better than I expected, honestly. Especially when it’s as nice as today.”

That’s when it hit you - You were casually chatting with a complete stranger you literally knocked over, asking him about his life, and neither of you even knew the other’s name.

“Yeah… weather’s perfect today,” you said quickly. “Anyway, nice to meet you.” You offered your hand and told him your name.

He took it in his, firm and warm. “I’m Marcus. Nice to meet you too.”

Marcus. Nice name. And yeah, it really suited him.

As you keep walking side by side around the pond, mid-conversation, you learn that he works for the FBI, as an agent in the Art Crime Team. That catches your attention. Not because you’ve never heard of it, but because they sometimes collaborate with museums, and you happen to work at one, right here in D.C., as a security consultant. Which is… kind of a hilarious coincidence.

“Wow,” Marcus says with a curious, amused look when you tell him. “What are the odds? Crashing into each other like that in D.C. Of all people, in a park. Instead of… you know, at a crime scene.”

“Yeah,” you laugh. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Not that I wouldn’t wanna see you again outside of, well… today…” And that’s when it hits you what you’ve just said. You instantly go quiet. And red. Great. You might as well have invited him straight to your bed, Jesus Christ!

Marcus definitely catches the blush, just like he clearly caught what you said (unfortunately). But he doesn’t seem to mind. “Actually… I was kind of hoping for something like that,” he says, smiling softly.

And yep, your knees go a little weak. Damn it.

“I’d like to see you again too. Outside of any, uh, potential professional obligations,” he adds carefully, watching your face, like he’s expecting you to pull away or say no.

“Okay. Um… there’s this place I really like. Nothing fancy, just cozy. Maybe we could… go sometime? For lunch?” It comes out quiet. Shy. But hopeful.

“I’d love that,” Marcus replies immediately.

“Cool, so… do you have your phone on you?”

Marcus starts patting down his pockets, a little awkwardly, like a high schooler before his first date. Eventually, he pulls out his iPhone, unlocks it, and hands it to you, a slightly nervous look in his eyes.

You take it, type your number in, and hand it back. “There. So we can make plans… if you want,” you say with a little smile.

He stares at the number on the screen for a moment, then looks up at you. “Thank you,” he manages to say.

Right then, your watch buzzes again - it’s time to head back home. You’re working remotely today. “Crap, I have to go. Again. Literally run. Again.” Okay, stop talking! Just… leave before you dig yourself deeper.

“Right. Um… yeah, it was really nice meeting you and… thanks again for the number,” he says, holding his phone a little tighter than necessary, like he’s afraid it might disappear.

You lean in for a quick hug, something you always do when saying goodbye. With friends. With most people, really. “Nice meeting you too,” you tell him softly, then turn and jog off. You leave him standing there, clearly caught off guard.

And even though you’re smiling to yourself, there’s a little knot of doubt in your stomach. Did you go too far? Was it too much? Because… you do want to see him again. And he has your number… but you don’t have his.

And now you just really hope he calls. Or texts. Or… something. You don’t even know why. But you really, really do.

Later that day:

Work went by pretty fast, you barely had time to think, let alone check your phone. So when night falls, and you finally close your laptop and start prepping dinner, the buzz of your phone on the table doesn’t immediately make you think of Marcus. You wipe your wet hands on a towel and unlock the screen.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: It was really nice meeting you today. Would love to continue that conversation. M.

Your stomach flips - the good kind. M. It has to be Marcus! You save his number immediately. You stare at the message for a second, thinking. Trying to figure out what to say. Most of your past attempts at dating… crashed and burned, mostly because you always moved too fast. Not everyone wants to talk about the future on the third date.

And Marcus? You don’t know him. You have no idea if he’s the same. But for once, you don’t want to mess this up. So you dial it back a little. Your fingers hover over the screen, and then finally, you start typing.The message whooshes off. No pressure. Just simple.

YOU: It was really nice meeting you too. Always good to come across someone kind.

MARCUS: I’m really glad you feel the same. I don’t know many people in the city yet, so if that lunch offer is still valid… I’d love to take you up on it.

Your stomach does another happy little flip. Honestly? You’re relieved you didn’t have to be the one to bring it up. You answer right away. Maybe a little too fast.

YOU: Sounds great. When works for you?

MARCUS: How about the day after tomorrow? Saturday, I’ve got the whole day free.

You agree. You pick a time. And the second it’s settled, you call your favorite restaurant and make a reservation. Just in case. You can’t wait. You don’t really know why you’re this excited. You try not to read too much into it but maybe… maybe he really did get under your skin just that fast.

Two days later:

You’re standing in front of the mirror, debating what to wear. Your closet is packed to bursting, yet somehow, it still feels like you have nothing to wear. But you really should get moving. You and Marcus had agreed to meet right outside the restaurant. You throw on a light spring dress, it’s warm out again, some sandals, and a small shoulder bag. Your hair’s up in a loose but pretty bun, nothing too polished, just soft and casual.

By the time you arrive at the restaurant, you’re about ten minutes late. Marcus is already there. He doesn’t look annoyed or impatient. In fact, his face breaks into a wide smile the second he spots you walking up.

“Hey, sorry… I tried to leave on time, I swear. But that’s just… me,” you blurt out quickly, half apologizing.

“Hey,” he says, still smiling. “Don’t apologize. It’s okay. I’m… kind of used to waiting.”

God, he looks so good. He’s wearing a light olive-green shirt, unbuttoned just enough at the collar, sleeves casually rolled up, exposing those forearms and veins, jesus! Dark pants, a lightweight blazer folded over one arm. And those damn watches. You have no idea where to look. His hair is a little messy again, like he tried to fix it but the wind had the final say. It’s… hot. So hot.

“You look great,” Marcus says. “I mean, really great.” You catch the faint blush rising in his cheeks.

“Thank you! You too,” you reply, and your stomach does a full somersault.

He steps in first, like a proper gentleman, then holds the door for you.

Over lunch, you talk about all kinds of things. You tell him more about your work, he shares more about his. You both have a love for art, so you end up talking about paintings for a while.

As time passes, the conversation starts to loosen up. You can’t resist teasing him a little. “Okay, rapid-fire questions,” you grin. “Cats or dogs?”

He looks a little caught off guard at first, then laughs. “Dogs. I’m actually allergic to cats.”

You keep going. “Coffee or tea?”

“Coffee. Always coffee.”

“Morning or night?”

“More of a night person. It’s quieter. But… depends who I’m with, and where. With the right person, doesn’t really matter if it’s morning or night.”

You both look at each other. Longer than before. That kind of look where the air between you shifts. Marcus seems like he’s wondering if he said too much. But before you can respond, he continues: “I haven’t had a lunch like this in… years. This relaxed. This fun. So… thanks.”

Your heart does a little leap. You’ve had plenty of lunches and dinners with friends, sure… but this… this feels different. “Thank you, I’ve really enjoyed talking to you and…”

Before you can finish, Marcus jumps in, suddenly looking like a shy teenager: “Maybe we could do this more often? I mean… lunch. Or… go to a movie. Or run in the park. Or… whatever.”

“Run in the park? You don’t look like someone who runs. I mean, not in a bad way. You look great, I just…” You stop. Did you just tell him he looks great?! And did he just kinda… ask you out again?!

Marcus clearly caught all of it. His dimples deepen as he laughs. “No, you’re right. I’m definitely not the running type. But with you, I feel like it could be fun. And - no offense - but someone should keep an eye on you, so you don’t crash into innocent bystanders.”

You laugh out loud. “Oh, come on! What if I ran into you on purpose?”

“On purpose… like you were planning to invite me to an ‘apology lunch’ afterward?”

“Do I look like someone who crashes into random strangers just to ask them out?” You say it playfully, but with a smile that lingers.

Marcus looks at you. “Ask them out? So this is a date?”

You hesitate. You promised yourself you wouldn’t rush anything but everything about Marcus just flows so naturally. “Maybe? And even if it’s not… I’d like it to be,” you admit quietly, your eyes dropping to your plate.

Then… you feel the softest touch. His hand, gently resting over yours. Just barely. It makes you look up. He’s smiling. Genuinely. No panic. No I’m gonna ghost you after this look. “I’d like it to be a date too,” he says softly.

You smile back at him. And he smiles right back.

Your plates are empty, but you’re not ready to call it a night yet. “It’s still nice out,” you say, half smiling. “Feels like a waste to go straight home. There’s this little park not far from here with a pop-up gallery, local artists showing some of their work.”

Marcus lights up at the mention of paintings. Of course he does. You knew he would. “Absolutely. I’d love that.”

You both leave the restaurant and head toward the park. The conversation picks right back up, flowing effortlessly. It’s honestly kind of a miracle… you’ve got so much in common, and yet here you are, in a huge city, and somehow you bumped into each other. Literally.

When you arrive at the open space where a few artists have their work displayed on easels, Marcus is clearly in his element. And it gets to you a little, how passionate he is when it comes to art. He chats with the artists, asks them questions. They’re thrilled, because Marcus isn’t just another passerby, he’s someone who actually sees their work.

The day starts to wind down. Dusk settles in, the light softens, and Marcus walks you home. “I’m not letting you walk alone,” he says simply.

“I’ve lived here for years. I walk alone at night all the time,” you tease, but in truth… you’re grateful.

“Maybe. But I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened to you,” he says, and your heart aches in the best way. You’re in deep. God help you.

After a little silence, Marcus speaks again. “You know, I told you I moved here for a job and that’s true. But it also came at the right time. Because I needed to leave something behind…” He tells you about a woman he cared for. About how she chose someone else. And the way he shares it - it feels raw, but calm. Like he’s been carrying this for a while.

And you realize: he’s struggling with the same thing you are. That thing where you care too much too fast. And somehow… it doesn’t scare you. It actually feels like fate.

When he trails off, you gather every ounce of courage you have (which, at this point, is quite a bit). You stop walking. Turn to face him. Take his hands in yours. He squeezes your fingers instantly. It’s warm. Steady.

“Marcus… thank you. For telling me that,” you say softly. “See, I actually get it. Not her. But you. I’m the same way. That’s why I haven’t been in a relationship for years… because I tend to scare people off. When I say on the third date that someday I want marriage. And kids.” You look him in the eye, and you swear they soften in real time, like your words cracked something open in him. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that we met,” you continue. “I’m actually really grateful. And if you’re not against it, I’d really like a second date. And a third. And maybe a thousand more. Because for the first time, I feel like I found someone who isn’t scared of me. And more than that… you don’t scare me either.”

Marcus brings your hands up, covering them with his. He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he steps closer and presses his lips to yours. Softly. Like he’s asking permission.

You let him know it’s okay, with the way your lips part gently against his.

You kiss. Slow, delicate, warm.

When you finally pull away, he lets out a breath. “Sorry,” he says, adorably flustered. “I kind of got carried away. But… after what I told you, and what you said, and… you just look so beautiful, and I…”

“I’m glad you got carried away,” you cut him off, smiling. “Because if you hadn’t, I was about to.”

For a moment, the entire park disappears. It’s just the two of you, standing in that twilight stillness, holding each other’s hands like you’ve done it forever.

That night, when you finally crawl into bed, you’re not the same person who woke up that morning. You’re in love. With the most gorgeous man in D.C. A man who just showed you that maybe you’re not too much. Maybe you just know what you want. And so does he.

And that? That’s rare.

Epilog, six months later:

You’re sitting on the edge of your bathtub, phone in hand, watching the timer count down. You’re nervous. Like, really nervous! Probably more than you’ve ever been in your life.

When the timer finally goes off, you’re sure those were the longest three minutes ever. Your fingers wrap around the little white plastic stick that might change everything. You close your eyes, turn it over, then look.

Shit. Two lines.

So that’s what the nausea’s been about.

Your hands are shaking a little as you scroll through your contacts and tap Marcus’s name. You need to tell him to come over. He would’ve anyway, but today he said he might stop by his place first. You’re in that in-between stage right now, splitting time between your apartments while working with a realtor to find your own place. And honestly? It’s been great. You’re more in love with him every day. You know he feels the same.

But… a baby? Six months in? You don’t know what he’s going to say. You don’t even know what you feel yet.

It clicks in your head… you remember when it probably happened. That one night you threw up after some bad dressing. You got a shot at the doctor’s office to help with the nausea, and it did say in the leaflet it might mess with your birth control. You just… didn’t think it would actually happen.

And now here you are. Staring at two lines.

Marcus picks up on the second ring. “Hey, babe. Everything okay?”

“Um… maybe. Could you come straight here after work? I kinda need to talk to you.”

“Yeah, of course.” A beat. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” You try to sound casual. Chill. You’re failing.

“I’ll head over soon as I can. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Your voice cracks a little, but you hang up before it fully gives out. Tears well up in your eyes, but you blink fast and shake them away.

He shows up about an hour later.

“You’re early,” you say. “I thought you had work until five.”

He wraps his arms around you without saying a word. “I could hear it in your voice,” he murmurs into your hair. “Took a half day. Wanted to be here.”

You exhale against his chest and lean in closer. You’re so grateful he’s like this. That he just knows. Even if… what you’re about to tell him? Might actually be okay.

“What’s going on, babe?” he asks gently.

You pull back just enough to look him in the eyes. “Okay, so… this isn’t great timing. I know that. And I’m kind of freaking out. But…” You take his hand and place it on your stomach, still completely flat.

He frowns a little. Then his face shifts. Eyes widen. “Wait. Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“I took a test this morning,” you say quietly. “The doctor still has to confirm it, but… yeah. That would explain the nausea and…” You trail off, your voice catching. “I’m sorry. I know we’re in the middle of buying a place and it’s just… not ideal and…” You don’t get to finish.

Marcus cups your face with both hands and kisses you. When he pulls away, he’s smiling. Really smiling. And his eyes are soft in a way you haven’t seen before. “I don’t care about timing,” he says. “This matters. You matter. We’re going to be a family. I’m gonna be a dad? And you… you’re gonna be a mom. The best one. I already know that.” He laughs. Like, genuinely laughs. Pulls you into him and spins you once, just enough to make you laugh too.

Now you’re both laughing. And crying.

And he’s holding you so tight you can barely breathe, but you don’t want him to let go.

You feel his excitement, his warmth, his love. And you know - same way he does - this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

This is just a one-shot, there won’t be a continuation. I just wanted to give Marcus something soft and beautiful 🤎 because Marcus deserved better! 🥺❤️‍🩹

FOR MORE FICS -> MASTERLIST

[hail-doodles]

☀️SHOP ANNOUNCEMENTTTT🗣️☀️

What’s up party people I’m back from my two-month hiatus and ready to post regularly again lol

Anyways, lil announcement that I’ll be having a HUGE restock next Saturday, June 28th @ 11am PT!

Marcus Acacius (white armor) will be available for purchase, and nearly ALL of my previous pops will be available for preorder! And if Marcus sells out, a select amount will be available for preorder too—so don’t worry if you miss out, he’ll still be around🙂‍↕️🫡

Etsy link is in my bio, as always!❤️❤️❤️

[littlcdarlin]

Chew his biceps up like bubblegum or whatever Lana Del Rey said

[pedros-mustache]

coming soon: nighthawks, 20

series masterlist || from the chapter:

Hoth is exactly as your father said it would be: hostile, fierce. Downright predatory. A cold unlike anything you have ever known crawls beneath your outermost layers and settles on your skin like permafrost. The wind screams as it whistles through the frozen ends of your hair. If a decade-long rage did not simmer in your gut, you might feel the urge to shiver. Even so, you have a sneaking suspicion the planet has the means and the motive to end your life before Crik even gets the chance. If the cold doesn’t finish you first, then the Wampa (Maker forbid you stumble across one) surely will. You twist your fingers beneath the frosted metal of Din’s pauldrons. Figures the Sunder would come equipped with a single-rider speeder. Figures you’d end up behind Din on that bike, your face against his shoulder blade, your ass out for Hoth’s taking. Your leg muscles scream, pressed tight against Din’s hips. The speeder races across the snow-covered landscape, current destination unfolding.  Crick’s fob blinks like a heartbeat from the sloped dash of the speeder. He’s here—on Hoth—breathing the same atmosphere, feeling the sting of the same snow. Though the fob confirms it, you can feel his slimy presence to the marrow of your bones. He is a phantom, caged in the corner of your mind, screaming in the shadows, shaking the iron bars which have kept him confined for so long. An hour more, a day longer, and the rusted door will swing open. You will stand face to face.  And he will be the first to fall.

[wheresarizona]

Pedro Pascal might be half a century old, but he’ll always be baby girl

[dornish-queen]

I'm working on updates for this page this week. Look for deleted scenes, with and without commentary. And full commentary film.

[khawla-gfm2]

📰Khawla's Family Campaign Update: 49📰

$7,643/$20,000 as of October 2nd [10pm CDT]

Currently $357 away from $8,000 as a short term goal

The next immediate target is $10,000 as the halfway mark

Please consider donating even just $5, $10, or $20 to help the campaign along to reaching it's goal! And reblogging/sharing can let it reach more people who can donate otherwise!

[for more information on the campaign, check my pinned post, the campaign page, or message me if you have any questions]

[tag list under the cut]:

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[toointojoelmiller]

Happy New Year 💙

Joel Miller's unreasonably attractive hands ™️ pt 1

[joaquinphoenixupdates]

Joaquin Phoenix as Sheriff Joe Cross

EDDINGTON - Out in theaters July 18