#ohpedromypedro

[1800-fight-me]

Little moments

Aemond Targaryen x Female!reader

Rating: T

Warnings: Pregnant reader, no others - this is pure fluff 

Word count: Almost 600- it’s a lil one

Synopsis: Aemond takes pleasure in the little moments with his little family. 

Author’s note: This came to me before I fell asleep last night and I wrote it in between sets at the gym this morning lmao 

P.S. Here’s a link to my masterlist if you’d like to check out my other writing! My askbox and taglist are always open! Come interact with me! Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

Aemond Masterlist

Aemond sighed as he strode into his chambers. 

Another lengthy small council meeting that he wished he could’ve resolved with force rather than listen to the squabbling of power hungry old men. 

Of course Aegon would do his best to sluff off this responsibility to Aemond. 

His head and scar were beginning to ache from stress and exhaustion. 

He shut the door quietly behind him and his lips already began to curve into a smile as he thought of what would be awaiting him. 

The candles were extinguished, the only light provided by the quickly dying fire in the hearth. 

He unlaced his boots and left them along with his outer coat and weapons by the door. 

He strode over to his massive bed and smiled softly at the sight of you sleeping soundly. 

What he didn’t expect, however, was his son also sleeping in the bed, curled into your side. 

His tiny hand rested on your rounded stomach. He must’ve been eagerly waiting to feel his sibling move within your belly before he fell asleep. 

Though he often chided you for being too soft on the boy, he loved the bond you shared with your son. 

He leaned over and scooped up the little four year old in his arms. 

He blinked his eyes open and looked up at Aemond. 

“Kepa,” he murmured before he snuggled into Aemond’s chest. 

Aemond hugged him tighter as he walked to the adjourning room that was his son’s. 

He laid him down in his bed and knelt down next to it. 

He ruffled his white hair and kissed him on the forehead. 

“I thought we discussed you sleeping in your own bed,” he chided softly. 

The boy yawned as he looked at his father. 

“But I like sleeping with you and muña,” the child whined. 

Aemond chuckled softly. 

“I also like sleeping with her, alone, without a child in my bed,” he teased and the boy sighed. 

He kissed him on the forehead once more. 

“We are only in the next room if you truly feel like you need us,” he whispered. 

The boy nodded, a smile on his lips that were the same shape as his father, and his eyes fluttered closed. 

“Sleep, little dragon,” Aemond murmured as he rose to his feet once again. 

He was fast asleep once again before Aemond even finished crossing the room. 

He closed the door softly and made his way towards you, once again relishing in your beauty as you slept. 

He tugged off the remainder of his clothes, leaving him shirtless and only in his underclothes before he climbed into bed with you. 

You immediately, as if on instinct, rolled over and curled into him. 

He wrapped his arms around you and led you to rest your head on his chest. 

“‘mond,” you mumbled, “missed you.” 

He smiled and pressed a kiss to the crown of your head as his hand rubbed your swollen stomach where his child grew. 

“I’m here now, my love,” he replied. 

You pressed a sleepy kiss to his chest. 

You quickly fell back asleep in the safety of his embrace. 

He took a deep breath and felt calm and relaxed, at home, with your scent around him and your warmth against him. 

As sleep took him too, he couldn’t help but ponder on the joy that you brought to his life. Happiness he never thought he could experience, that he was sure he didn’t deserve, filled him, and a soft smile remained on his lips as he slept. 

Everything taglist:

@spideysimpossiblegirl @dinandgone @ohpedromypedro @littlemisspascal @tombraider42017 @kirsteng42 @just-here-for-the-moment @salome-c @hb8301

Aemond taglist:

@fultimefangirl @dumpsterfirecee @adderess @flowerpotmage @theold-ultraviolence @lady-phasma @aemonds-war-crime @schniiipsel @mommyslittlewarcriminal @batsyforyou @signyvenetia @sirenofavalon @ellathefriendlyalpacaaa @padfooteyes @percyjacksonspeen @aemonds-sapphire @wrendermeuseless @mllemarianne @slutforaemond @a-beaverhausen​

[castle-of-ruin]

Day 1 - Movie Night

A/N: This is the first day of @obiknights wwdilfcember!! This is not my first piece of writing, but it is my first piece of writing for my new tumblr. I hope you all enjoy. It's rather short but it was fun to write. Also, I tried to be as gender neutral as possible! I am not very good at it because I am used to writing f!Readers. Either way, I hope you get as much serotonin as I did while writing this!

Pairing: Triple Frontier Boys/ Reader (platonic relationships)

Word Count:

Warnings: a few curse words, friendly banter, and teeth rotting fluff

Trying to watch a movie with four grown men turned out to be a more difficult challenge than you ever thought it would be. You sat back and watched the four of them argue over what we were going to watch. Will wanted First Blood, Santi wanted The Expendables, Frankie wanted Lone Survivor, and Benny wanted Sand Castle. You knew in the end the final decision was up to you. When their heads all turn to you, you knew it was time to make a decision. Before any of them could ask you what you wanted to watch you blurt The Expendables. Santi lets out an excited holler and pushes Will’s shoulder. 

“I told you they’d pick The Expendables!” His excitement is contagious and you let out a laugh shaking your head. 

“It was not an easy choice Santi, they were all great choices.” You tell him, your smile growing wider. 

He nods his head and dips down to grab your dvd from its respective place on the shelf and pops it into the player. All of them scramble around like ants trying to find the perfect place to sit. Benny ends up sprawled out over the lounge chair, his long legs hanging over the edge. Santi plops down next to you on the couch and steals your blanket. Will settles down on the other side of you with a bowl of popcorn in his hands. You stare at him for a moment, when did he go do that? Frankie sits on the floor at your feet and props his arm up on your knee. You knew he wouldn’t be comfortable down there for long, eventually you would go and grab him a chair. 

The movie starts and the five of you zone in on what’s happening. You had seen the movie several times, but it was still good each time. It brought you a sense of joy that you only got from specific movies. 

“Oh fuck me!” You all turn your  heads to Benny who sits up in the chair. 

He looked exasperated, his hands pushing into his hair in frustration. 

“What?” Will asks, concerned for his brother. 

“The guy I was supposed to fight just backed out. Now I don’t have a fight before Christmas to make some extra money.” His tone drops at the end. 

“You can make money some other way Benny, it’ll all be okay. Don’t worry.” You tell him.

“Yeah man, maybe we can become strippers for the holidays or something.” Santi pipes in, you can hear the smile in his voice. 

Benny’s eyes light up like he was suddenly considering it. 

“Yeah no, I am not doing that shit.” Will says, making you cackle. 

You see the edges of Will’s lips turn upward. 

“Oh come on! The girls would love you Will!” Santi shouts. 

You shake your head, you knew Santi was fighting a brick wall on that one. You look down at Frankie who sits quietly, unphased by Santi’s chaos. 

“How about we bake stuff or something like that?” Frankie suggests, still immersed in the film. 

“That’s actually a really good idea. And something we can all do without having to take our clothes off.” You tell them. They all let out laughs at that. 

“Well, unless you wanted to, I guess. Maybe we will make more money.” You laugh once more. 

Benny nods his head in agreement. After the movie ends the five of you begin planning your Christmas bake sale and stay up into the early hours of the morning. Laughing and being together and while enjoying each other's company.

Tags- @obiknights @cyroku @all-hallows-evie @iloveyouwhiskey

@ohpedromypedro @clints-lucky-arrow @inkandbloodbound @thighs-of-betrayal-blog @star-whores-a-new-hoe @sunrise-river @criminaly-supernatural

[pedros-mustache]

✨taglist reblog✨

 

@christina-loves @gracie7209 @casssiopeiaaa @tacticalsparkles @persephones-garden @dins-helmet @heavenseed76 @lucinasbitch @reader-without-a-story @mandocrasis @prismaticpizza @440mxs-wife  @ohhersheybars @djarrex @youre-a-wallflower-charlie @citrussoda @mishasminion360 @thevoiceinyourheadx @sharkbait77 @thisshipwillsail316 @lellowberry @mrsparknuts @notagamersdey @cats-are-a-girls-bestfriend @spideysimpossiblegirl @littlepadika @netflixmatt-replies @mylifeofcalculatedchaos @iamafadedmoon @altarsw @remusstark @queen-sands @javierpinme @groguiscute @riddikulus-obsessions @yoditorian @owls-spice-cabinet @pedrostories @mochimush  @sleep-tight1 @feministfanboi @menshipsandthesea @asherys-valyrion @queenofthecloudss @temprencemarie @adancedivasmom @literallydontlook @multifandom-fangirl4 @captain-jebi @liltangerineart @monocromaticstaircase @ohpedromypedro @allthatsleftbehind @thefanbasewhore @tincanfics @ayoungpascallover @jettia @s-u-t @girlofchaos @misguidedandbeguiled @ginny-3 @againstacecilia @mandoatsea @dinandgone @mariwinns16 @amywritesthings @taylorann2013 @pedro-pscals @vivasity @thescarletfang @dieterbravos @ka-x-in @murdersheghostwrote @totallynotastanacc @brunette-overalls @reaperofmen @tortor-mcgee @xxladysquishyxx @tizylish @storyarcscribe @starrynightsforever @alwaysdjarin @d-sav @hello-th3r3 @babukat

please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed ✨💛

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.

[manuphantom]

guys today is my birthday 🎂🎂🎂🎂🎂🎉🎉🎉🎉, since this period I'm living a bit of shit because I'm not well, but I have to thank you of the community of pedro pascal and jon bernthal because you make me feel an integral part of something that I call home and family, if you want to go for a greeting and good wishes if you go 😘😊.  @thewaythisis     @dornish-queen      @kwistowee  @ohpedromypedros-main        @pisss-offf-ghostt     @littlemisspascal     @ithinkwehitametaphor

[pinkrosethorne]

Favorite Fics

Updated 4/3/22 - List have been separated into separate posts because there are too many. I did not write any of these! Credit goes to the lovely writers that did. 

 Reblogs on @aphroditescreature 

 SMUT18+ ONLY

Dick Grayson

Pedro Pascal + his various characters

Drunk Call {by hellcaster901

Vanity Affair  {by ohpedromypedro

Sensory Overload - 2 parts {by 221bshrlocked

The Sugar Daddy Collection - masterlist {by pascalslittlebrat

Shiny and New - 2 parts {by 221bshrlocked

Oberyn Martell

In a Name Only - masterlist {by forever-rogue

The Golden Rose  {by storiesofthefandomlovers

A Wolf Comes to Dorne {by cosmicbug379

Complete  -fluff {by absurdthirst

Never Alone - fluff {by softpedropascal

Unnamed - oberyn/reader/ellaria 

Taste  {by softpedropascal

Flames of Desires  {by santigarcia

Burning Bright - I live for this series - masterlist {by tropes-and-tales

The Rose and the Viper {by storiesofthefandomlovers

The Maiden of Summerwood {by youvebeenlivingfictional 

Footprints in the Sand - masterlist {by Ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa

Little Sparrows -masterlist {by autumnleaves1991-blog

Shades of Gray - Modern Oberyn Masterlist {by talesfromtheguild

Caught  {by toomanystoriessolittletime

Hidden Garden {by the-dendrophile-bookworm

All That I Am - masterlist {by asta-lily

The Mandalorian

Rough Day - Favorite chapter is four ;P {by no-droids /masterlist linked below

NSFW Alphabet 

Dust - ongoing masterlist {by etchedbox

(Dust) purity kink

Look like this  {by themand0lorian

Fever in My Eyes  {by 221bshrlocked

An Overdue Debt  {by mandoinevarro

Frozen  {by absurdthirst

Big {by cptnbvcks

Way of The Force - the squeal is out now! masterlist {by itsallaboutkey

The Path {by absurdthirst

Cantina Copulation {by absurdthirst

Blast from the Past -masterlist {by pedro-pascal-love

Of Constellations and Creed - alpha/omega perfection - masterlist { by Ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa

Show me, Feel me, Teach me - favorite chapter is two, but i’ve also re-read four several times :P -  masterlist {by parker-razor

Peace - alpha!Din {by maybege

Frankie “Catfish”

Home again - &pope {by absurdthirst

About the baby.. its yours -fluff {by forever-rogue

Neighbor!Frankie {by softpedropascal

Going Down  {by softpedropascal

Telltale Heart - literally is a  masterpiece {by astroboots

Maneater {br yourbucky084

Weeknights - ongoing {by frannyzooey 

Addicted - two parts {by absurdthirst

For Worse - fluff! {by blueeyesatnight

Mirror  {by softpedropascal

Mechanic Frankie  {by softpedropascal

Fix You - masterlist {by astoryisaloveaffair

“I don’t know why I’m crying.” - {by forever-rogue

Distraction fluffffff {toomanystoriessolittletime 

Hugs {f0rever15elf

Softball {by frannyzooey 

Proud {by softpedropascal

Finding Family {by absurdthirst

Second Chance  {by absurdthirst

what’s it like {knivesareout 

Golden, Like Daylight  - also a masterpiece- series completed {by wyn-n-tonic

frizzy ’verse - an oc but first person {by wyn-n-tonic

Sundress Season {by moralesispunk

fix you up {by starlightmornings 

sweet thing {by hopevenonthisside

Home {by charnelhouse

Honestly any frankie fic by softpedropascal is good but i’ve listed a few of my favorites.  

Pero Tovar

Dying Wish  {by absurdthirst

Needs  {by absurdthirst

Like Those Foreign Stars {by pedros-mustache

Javi <3

Quitter  {by say-al0e

Futile Devices - chapter five is my fav {by zeldasayer

Finally Home  {by absurdthirst

Cuddle {by softpedropascal

Marcus Moreno 

Unnamed - one shot 

Quarantine AU - masterlist {by absurdthirst

Libidine   {by absurdthirst

NSFW Alphabet  {by absurdthirst

Can’t Sleep Alone - fluff and a little bit of angst  {by girlwithanewplan

Baby Talk {by officerbrowneyes

Caramel Latte - masterlist { by moralesispunk

Don’t wanna miss a thing angst and fluff yessss{by buckstaposition 

Whiskey

Heaven  {by pedroepascal

Whiskey & Gin - favorite chapter is five! {by zeldasayer

My Cherry Baby  {by freak-nasty-thick-dick-mando

Chapel of Love {by absurdthirst

Sugar Sweet {by the-purity-pen

Diamonds and Daddies - masterlist {by dadolorian

Experimental Love  {by absurdthirst

Erza

Forget Me Not - masterlist {by Krissology

Starvation  {by absurdthirst

Henry Cavill + his various characters

OTHERS

Derek Hale 

First Time  *not xreader but its too good not to list* {by thorscock-y

Baddest Bitch  {by fandomnsfw

Wanted - no smut, angsty {by huntersanonymous

Bucky Barnes 

Lazy Mornings 

It ain’t yours

Green {by itsapeterthing

Cake {by itsapeterthing 

Aquatinted {by celestialbarnes

Grumpy {by honeysucklesteve

Dads best friend Bucky {by celestialbarnes

Coffee {by buckys-darling

Jason Todd (okay he is being added :P)

untitled {by littleredwing89 (slowly turning me into a Jason Stan... k!

Benny Miller

Use Me {by mylifeliterally 

Call me selfish {by autumnleaves1991-blog

Tell me lover, are you lonely? {by charnelhouse 

Will “Ironhead”

The Kiss {by rayslittlekitten 

Not to be weird  {by autumnleaves1991-blog

Touch me I’m Golden {by charnelhouse 

Others

Neighbors

Written in the Stars 

Really Good Masterlists 

FATWS Series Masterlist {by cjsinkythoughts 

Bruce Wayne 

No droid’s star wars characters 

Team building -featuring all the tf boys

Series FATWS

Triple Frontier Masterlist 

Bloom Masterlist 

Triple Frontier Boys

[littlemisspascal]

New Writers added to The Pedro Library 🐼

@adverbedly @ohpedromypedro @rayslittlekitten @miscellaneous-mando

New Works Added ✨

@supernaturalgirl20 Frankie  It Ends With Us

@anaaaispunk Frankie  Truth Always Comes Out

@say-al0e Frankie  Boyfriend Material

@skvatnavle Marcus P  Is Love To Much?

@blueeyesatnight Max  This is Not a Drive Thru

@toomanystoriessolittletime Din  Serve Your Queen

@mishasminion360 Din  Understanding

@starlightmornings Din  The Detour

@the-scandalorian​ Din  Drowning Request

Many fics aren’t appearing in the tags when searching. If I miss yours, please let me know 💗 Or add me to your taglist cuz I love being tagged 😊

As always, if you would like me to remove your work from the rec list, please let me know and I’ll remove them asap 😊

[1800-fight-me]

Congrats on 2k! How about "I really want to kiss you right now." With Matt?

Distraction

Matt Murdock x gn!Reader (No Y/N)

Rating: M- This is 18+ so minors better get off my lawn!!

Warnings: Allusions to sex

Word count: Nearly 500

Author’s note: Thank you and thank you for this ask! I intended to make this sweet but my horny thoughts for Matt immediately took control... I make no apologies.

P.S. Here’s a link to my masterlist if you’d like to check out my other writing! And here's my Matt Murdock masterlist!

You stared at him while he worked. He’s so goddamn pretty sometimes you forget to breathe. He’d agreed to allow you to come to the office because you promised you would be good and not distract him from all of his very important lawyer work that you didn’t understand. 

You were supposed to be doing work of your own but you couldn’t possibly focus on it as Matt sighed in frustration and yanked his tie off. 

His jaw clenched as he ticked it to the side and you had a memory of another time he took his tie off. 

That time he used it to tie your hands together above your head as he laid you back on his bed and….. You shook your head to try and clear your thoughts. You really needed to get a grip and not let your horny thoughts get the best of you. 

You need to be supportive and not be a distraction to your boyfriend. 

Clearly this new case wasn’t going well so far if his many late night work sessions and annoyed sighs were any indication. 

You bit your lip and held in your sigh of longing. Why does he look so hot when he’s frustrated? 

“Sweetheart,” he said in a warning tone. 

“Yeah?” you squeaked out, entirely too flustered already. 

“I thought you had work to do,” he said in a teasing tone. 

You cleared your throat and looked down at the papers laid out in front of you. 

“I do. I totally do. I am so focused,” you said unconvincingly. 

“Mmmhmm.” He had a smirk adorning his pretty pink lips and you were immediately distracted again. 

He stood and walked over to you. He leaned down and placed his hands on either side of the desk in front of you as he pressed his chest to your back. 

“What are you thinking about?” His cheek grazed yours as he nuzzled you. 

“Um…” 

His nose traced your jaw then down your throat before you heard him take a deep breath. 

“Mmmmm…I think I know what you’re thinking sweetheart, but tell me anyway,” he said, his voice low and deep in that way that made you clench your thighs together. 

“I-I really want to kiss you right now,” you breathed out. 

“Oh? Really, is that all?” he teased as he pressed soft open mouthed kisses to your neck. 

You sighed and laid your head back on his chest in order to give him better access. 

“Maybe I was thinking about a bit more… I just didn’t want to be a distraction,” you said breathlessly. 

He spun you around in your chair and leaned over you to press his full lips to yours. 

“I like when you distract me,” he said with a smirk as he pulled back. 

“Oh thank god,” you said and you kissed him desperately. 

You managed to distract him the rest of the night and well into the next morning, much to your delight.

Everything taglist:

@spideysimpossiblegirl @dinandgone @ohpedromypedro @littlemisspascal @tombraider42017 @kirsteng42 @just-here-for-the-moment @salome-c

Matt Murdock Taglist:

@mindidjarin @hotnmad @samwisethegr8 @catholicdaredevil @sobachka-korol @carters-things @enjoymyloves

[twiggoblin]

Tagged by: bobafetter

Thanks babe! 😘

Tag 9 people that you want to get to know better. (Sorry if you’ve already been tagged by someone else.)

Last Song: I Can’t Feel My Face cover by The Amity Affliction

Last Movie: Anastasia

Currently Watching: Prodigal Son and Clarice

Currently Reading: The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

Currently Craving: Boba Fett

@ahoeformando @tibbietibbs @babyyyodas @mando-cyare @dancingwiththeplanets @risingphoenix761 @prettyinhotpunk @gravity-nova @ohpedromypedro

LOVE Y’ALL!!! 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

[pedros-mustache]

✨taglist reblog✨

@christina-loves @gracie7209 @casssiopeiaaa @tacticalsparkles @persephones-garden @dins-helmet @heavenseed76 @lucinasbitch @reader-without-a-story @mandocrasis @prismaticpizza @440mxs-wife  @ohhersheybars @djarrex @youre-a-wallflower-charlie @citrussoda  @comfortzonequeen @mishasminion360 @thevoiceinyourheadx @sharkbait77 @thisshipwillsail316 @lellowberry @mrsparknuts @notagamersdey @cats-are-a-girls-bestfriend @spideysimpossiblegirl @littlepadika @netflixmatt-replies @mylifeofcalculatedchaos @rubyroadrash @iamafadedmoon @altarsw @remusstark @queen-sands @javierpinme @groguiscute @riddikulus-obsessions @yoditorian @owls-spice-cabinet @pedrostories @mochimush  @sleep-tight1 @feministfanboi @asherys-valyrion @queenofthecloudss @temprencemarie @adancedivasmom @literallydontlook @multifandom-fangirl4 @captain-jebi @liltangerineart @monocromaticstaircase @ohpedromypedro @allthatsleftbehind @thefanbasewhore @tincanfics @ayoungpascallover @jettia @s-u-t @girlofchaos @misguidedandbeguiled @ginny-3 @againstacecilia @mandoatsea @dinandgone @mariwinns16 @amywritesthings @taylorann2013 @pedro-pscals @vivasity @thescarletfang @dieterbravos @ka-x-in @murdersheghostwrote @totallynotastanacc @brunette-overalls @reaperofmen @tortor-mcgee @xxladysquishyxx @tizylish @storyarcscribe @starrynightsforever @alwaysdjarin @d-sav @hello-th3r3 @babukat

nighthawks (20)

series masterlist || previous chapter

word count: 6k+

warnings: canon typical violence and weaponry, language, x fem!reader

a/n: wow - um, hey, guys. so after my year long hiatus, i am here. hello. i truthfully to not expect anyone to flock to this story again after how inconsistent i have been. but din & scout came to me fully formed almost four years ago, and i must finish the story within. you are, of course, welcome to come along for the ride. 💛

please forgive me if this is utter shite. it has been a long time since i wrote much of anything, so i am, as the kids say, pretty mid at this.

DAY ONE-HUNDRED-TEN—LOCATION: HOTH 

The wind whips and rages, stinging your cheeks with nettles of ice. 

From the bowels of the Sunder, Din unearthed a paltry speeder, hardly big enough to hold you and him, let alone any apprehension. That barbed, scared part of you stayed behind, and there it will remain, buried beneath mounting layers of snow and the shadow of the Sunder . You are resolute now, sure in your finely-tuned senses. Your heart thumps against your ribcage: Ren-dell Cr-ik, Ren-dell Cr-ik.

By the stars, you’ll get the bastard if it is the last thing you do. 

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-old 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 should 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. 

Crik’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. 

Din tilts the speeder to the right, and you shift with the motion, leaning into the slant. With so few sentient lifeforms on Hoth, the options for where to begin your hunt are limited. Outpost Beta, Gamma Base—you could start at either but with rumblings of growing tension between the Rebels and the Empire, neither you or Din are sure a Rebel outpost is the best place to start. Hoth is too expansive to meander in the hopes of stumbling upon Crik, and without the aid of a heat signature, Din’s tracking tech does you a fat lot of good. You are left with the path of least resistance for now, even if it seems to you the least effective: find the closest cantina and ask around without raising suspicion. No self-respecting planet, sparsely populated or not, can get by without a cantina, and Din seems confident Hoth is sure to have at least one. You’ll start there and work your way out, carving through the snow and the ice and the bitter cold with your sheer determination and his iron fist. 

“Cantina. Three klicks ahead.” Din’s voice filters through your ear, tinny and warped by ill-used ear pieces. “Karga found it.” 

As the speeder darts across the frigid terrain, you rest your forehead against the back of Din’s helmet. You cannot afford to let your mind wander on this mission; there is precious time, precious energy, precious resources, and ruminating on previous conversations is wasteful. You push the thoughts of Mandalore, of your father’s proclamation of marriage, away. You must be single-minded, a sharp edged knife against the world and all in it.

The speeder angles upward over a rise, and you pull your head away from the chilled metal of the helmet. There, in the distance, a dark brown speck amidst the sparkling ice and snow: the cantina. It develops, blooming larger, unfurling, as the speeder draws closer. 

Your temporary destination is a brown craggy rock set in the base of a larger hill, carved into an oblong mass. Discrete, easy to miss on a ship overhead as a simple geological formation, but the slate gray door etched in the center of the rock speaks otherwise. Laid in white stone above the door, small red lights blink in alternating patterns. If you thought it meant anything, you may pause and determine if the lights communicate anything other than a siren’s call.

Din brings the speeder to a halt alongside a four legged creature tied to a post beside the door. Snow tangles and matts between the animal’s blue-hued fur, and a rusted chain at the beast’s ankle jangles as a bitter wind gusts over the hilltop. The creature swings its head as you dismount, braying woefully, revealing a mouth of sawn-off teeth. Pockets of puss and blood line the animal’s jaw where its teeth should stand upright. You look away and check the blaster at your hip. 

Din lifts Crik’s fob from the speeder, hides it within his pocket, then nods at you. “Let’s go.”

The door to the cantina slides open on a hiss, internal mechanisms excreting plumes of white-gray chemicals. You’re glad for the scarf wrapped around your nose and mouth. Chemicals aside, the cantina smells like shit. A foul odor hangs in the air, rotted flesh and spoiled meat. You cringe beneath your mask and steel yourself against the pervasive fumes as you follow Din through the scattered tables and chairs. 

The cantina’s sole room is quiet save for the sound of the wind outside and a scanner beeping behind the curved bar. A few patrons, none of any interest to you, duck their heads as Din passes. You feel them shrink into themselves, and it is just as well. You have no time for them. 

Only Crik.

Behind the counter, a lone man watches your approach. He braces both gloved hands against the bar, his brow knit in a tight frown. His eyes slide from Din to you then back again. 

“You’re not from around here.” His voice is knotted and thick, as though he rarely speaks above a whisper. 

Din looks over his shoulder, and you feel him look at you, nudging you forward with a pointed stare. Your mission, your bounty—Crik is all yours, and Din will not deny you the pleasure of taking him in by your own merit.

Pushing forward, you move to stand in front of Din. He towers over you, the breadth of his chest a comfort against your back. His hand, the one not resting on the counter, settles at your hip, fingers tucking around the grip of your holstered blaster. 

“My partner and I… we are looking for someone willing to part with information in exchange for credits.”

The bartender’s frown deepens. “Credits won’t get you nowhere here.”

You expected as much, but refuse to let the momentary disappointment show on your face. You arch a brow. “Really? The brand new cycler rifle hanging on the wall there tells me otherwise.” The bartender does not glance in the direction of the weapon, but his eyes narrow. “We deal in credits, not weapons, but we are willing to be generous.”

Tilting his head back, the bartender studies you. “What makes you think I have what you need?”

A saccharine smile unwinds the terse pout of your lips. “Call it women’s intuition.”

The bartender huffs and drops his hands from the bar counter. “You can ask, but I can’t promise I have the answer.”

“That’s fine. Give us what you can.” It is the first time Din speaks in the dimly lit cantina. He is impatient in these middling moments, but you don’t mind them. You have always enjoyed the seemingly inconsequential decisions and conversations that ultimately propel you to bringing down a bounty. It is in the series of unknowns before the inevitable downfall of your mark that you find the greatest thrill.

Cocking his head to the side, the bartender shuffles for a room adjacent to the bar. You follow, two steps, three, then pause as the man orders the straggling customers to fend for themselves. Five minutes, he says. You inhale, swallowing the lump in your throat. Five minutes.

The storeroom of the cantina is reminiscent of the storeroom in which you first met the Mandalorian. The same cramped and crowded closet in a backwater cantina. The same smell of dust in the air and spice hidden within boxes. The same man, cloaked in gray, corded with power. If you had the time, you would pause to reflect on the change in you, the change in him, these past one-hundred-ten days, but as it stands: time is running thin. 

“Before I tell you anything”—The bartender turns around from the door, leveling an accusatory finger at you—“you tell me who you are.” 

“No.” Din stands with his feet shoulder-width apart, his hands set firmly on his hips. “The deal is information for credits. That’s it.”

“But I—”

“No info, no credits.”

Any further protest sours on the man’s tongue. His lips curl upward. “Fine.” He crosses his arms, shoulders hunched inward. “What do you want to know?”

You resist the urge to glance at Din for approval. It has been a long time since you took the lead on a bounty. Since the disaster with Breeth, you have felt uncertain about your abilities as a bounty hunter. But Din stands beside you, patient in his silence, so you will your thumping heart to settle. 

“What can you tell me about this man?” 

Reading your cue, Din unearths Crik’s blinking fob from his pocket. He presses the center button, revealing a holographic image of Rendell Crik that rotates in a circle. Pale blue illuminates the chrome of Din’s helmet as the bartender studies the image.

The bartender raises a finger to his chin in thought. His eyes narrow. His lips purse. A flash of impatience tightens your chest. How long does it take to string a thought together, for Maker’s sake? You bite the inside of your cheek.

“Yes,” he finally says. “I’ve heard tell…”

Impatience gives way to intrigue. You lean forward. “And?”

“About thirty klicks from here. There’s a camp.”

“What kind of camp?”

With a smirk, the man tilts his head. In his eye, a greedy twinkle. “That will cost you.”

Thud. The bartender’s back hits the wall, and a row of jars on a neighboring shelf clang as they jostle together. Din holds his forearm against the bartender’s neck. He angles the visor of his helm so that the bartender must look down, down into the face of destruction itself.

“Answer the fucking question.”

“I told you! A camp—thirty klicks away!” 

Din leans in, his forearm pressing, pressing into the man’s neck. The bartender’s face contorts into a pained grimace. His ankles bang against the wall behind him as he struggles against Din’s grip. You hold your breath.

“That’s not enough.” Din’s voice is terse, the swipe of a whip against the ground. “You know more.”

Shaking his head, the bartender sputters. “Not much! Only rumors from the other bounty hunters!”

Din’s feet shuffle as he steps closer to the wall, pushing further into the man’s already limited space. A flush begins to rise from the base of the man’s neck. His eyes grow larger, wider, rounder as they bulge outward from the leathery flesh of his face. 

“Only what? Say it!”

The bartender will be of no use to you dead or unwilling. You see the opportunity for information begin to fade like blood in a watery pool. Your five minutes are almost up.

Stepping forward, you place a hand on Din’s shoulder. He stills, and the man’s panicked eyes dart to you. He pants against Din’s forearm, sweat like a crown upon his brow.

“Tell me what you know of Rendell Crik and the camp,” you say, tone even, gaze soft. “And my partner won’t kill you.”

/ 

The bartender was not bluffing when he said thirty klicks to Crik’s camp. 

By the time the speeder sputters to a stop behind a jagged outcrop of ice one klick away from the camp, you are sure the blood in your veins is frozen. Despite the layers covering you head to foot, a cold unlike anything you have ever known has melded to your bones, chilled the breath in your lungs, squeezed the life from your very soul. You are tired, bone weary from the frigid air and unrelenting wind. 

Gods-teeth! Hardly a few hours into the hunt and already the elements have taken their toll. Your father’s warning rings loud in your ear: Hoth?! No one survives out there. Maybe he was right. Maybe, after everything that has transpired, Hoth is too much of a risk. After all, you have rekindled the relationship with your parents. Isn’t it enough to be returned to the family fold? 

No, it’s not. So long as Jeelia’s space at the table your father carved with his own hand is empty, it will never be enough. You cannot stop now, not when you have come this far. 

Leaning against the wide base of the ice block, you lift your head from the crook of your arm where you press your forehead into the dark and frigid abyss. Frost hangs at the end of your lashes. You blink, searching for Din and his stupid helmet between the swirling colors of gray sky and white snow. Panic grips the raw edges of your psyche, and for a moment, you are in Coruscant, alone and afraid.

But he is there, as he always is, beside you. He kneels at the edge of the ice block, one hand against the ice itself, the other tight around a pair of binoculars. 

“So, what now?” 

Din twists to look at you over his shoulder. Something in your face—perhaps the chapped skin at your cheeks, the glassy look that surely clouds your eyes—makes him turn away from the camp. He hooks the binoculars to his hip. 

“First we eat something.”

You frown and sit up as Din shuffles through the contents of a pannier draped over the speeder. “I can go on. We don’t need to stop. Not when that guy said he heard from others that—” 

“Forget what he said. We got the information we needed and we made it to the camp. Anything else he said was bullshit. Don’t let it fester.” Din passes you a cloth secured with a piece of twine. “Now eat. We won’t get to Crik on an empty stomach.”

You unwrap the cloth to reveal a triangle of tea-smoked silk bread. A lump forms in your throat. You skim your thumb across the flaky crust, layers of sugared and spiced silkwheat falling from the confection. Your favorite, your mother’s best recipe. Memories of afternoons beside the hearth, your fingers sticky with fresh dough, flood your mind.

“She gave it to me.” Din’s whisper cuts through your reverie. You look up to search the impassible gleam of his helm. “Before we left Inora. She said it was your favorite and I should keep it for the moment you need it most.”

With a rueful chuff, you tear off a corner of the bread. “Is this that moment?”

“You’re doubting yourself. I can see that much.”

You wince. His words ring true, clanging against the rising fear that clutches your throat. Somewhere in the back of your mind you cannot help but feel that your future rests in the outcome of this hunt. Is it worth it—to go on after catching Crik? Could you continue to skate through the stars on a whim and a prayer and the hope that you (or Din) don’t fall to a well-aimed blaster? Would the Mandalorian come with you if you asked him to shirk the Guild, or Mandalore, or his son?

You suppose the outcome of this hunt will answer the unanswerable. 

You hesitate before putting the bread in your mouth. “Am I really so obvious?”

“Usually.” Din’s voice glows, as much a warmth to your core as any fire. 

“I can hear your smile and I don’t like it.” Grin fading, you finish the silk bread. The flavor barely registers as you consider the hours before you. “I can do this,” you say.

“I know.” Din moves from his haunches to a crouch. He pulls his blaster from the holster at his side. “Ready?”

Ghosts of your mother’s tender touch seep through the bread cloth in your hand, warming you. Ghosts of your sister’s gentle spirit tangle within the memories dancing in your mind. Your mother, your sister—they urge you onward. 

You shove the bread cloth in your pocket. “Ready.”

/

Crik’s alleged-camp sits square in the middle of fuck nowhere. It stands in contrast with the rest of its surroundings: a hastily built circle of tan buildings, each connected by long rectangular passageways, like a spider sinking in a glass of bantha milk. A flickering orange light emanates from the center of the compound, creating a halo over a godless palace. 

Clearing your throat, you swipe the sleeve of your arm under your dripping nose. No more time to waste. No more moments of silence to descend into murky pits of the unknown. You told Din you were ready—and you are. Once and for all. 

“What’s our plan?” You cock your head in the direction of the camp. “We can’t just waltz up and knock on the door.”

Din huffs in amusement. “Looks like some already tried.” 

He passes you the heavy electrobinoculars. Pressing the lens to your eyes, you swing your gaze around the corner of the ice block. The world shifts to a hazy blue, lines of numbers and text bleeding across the top of and bottom of your vision, but you are able to make out the entrance of the camp in the distance. You zoom in. 

A head on a spike. Bloated, black tongue hanging from a broken jaw. Blood frozen in thick streams that never reached the ground. Above, dangling from a watchtower, a body. Neck snapped, head bowed, indistinguishable. Swaying, gently twisting in the harsh wind.

You push the binoculars away. “So the plan?”

Din considers your question before pointing to the right side of the compound. “We go in that way. A service entrance from what I can tell. A carrier went in not too long ago. Crik seems to be stocking up for the long haul.”

Before you stop yourself, you mumble, “Not if I can help it.”

Din pierces you with a sharp look. “Now isn’t the time to get cocky.” 

“I know. I just—”

“Take the binoculars again. Look up at the guard tower.” Ever the student, you do as he commands. “What do you see?”

“Guards.” You struggle to keep the bite out of your voice. 

“How many?”

“At least four.”

“Count them.”

Irritation tightens your jaw, but you obey, pausing long enough to count each individual stalking the length of the compound. “Five. And that’s only outside.” You lower the binoculars and pass them back with a none-too-gentle slap to the hand. “Point taken.”

“Good. So we go in through the service entrance and work our way closer to Crik from there. But before we go any further”—Din wrestles with the chest plate beneath his cloak—“put this on.” 

He offers his chest plate with little fanfare. It is merely a thing in his hand which he is presenting. The flight suit beneath his armor is dark. His uncovered chest rises and falls, patient, even breaths as he waits for you to accept the offering. 

“What?” You balk, spreading your hands in a sign of rejection. “Absolutely not! That’s yours! What are you even thinking?”

“Take it, Scout.” 

“Mando, I won’t take it.”

“Yes, you will.” Din grabs your hands, forcing them to wrap around the chilled metal. The outward facing side is cold, but the inside is still warm where it rested against his chest, where it covered his heart. “You will put it on and then maybe I will be able to fucking breathe through this thing.”

You look up, and not for the first time, you feel as though you are looking onto his naked face. The chest plate weighs heavy in your hands, but Din’s words weigh heavier. The warning signs posted around the camp are clear enough: this won’t be easy. It won’t be safe either. Din Djarin will do whatever it takes to get you the justice you so deserve. He will do whatever it takes to keep you safe, too.

You refuse to look at him as you press the chest plate to your body. He leans forward, reaching around your back to fold and adjust the clasps at either side. His touch is light. His movements are unsure. Reality hangs tenuous between you, fragile like thin glass. One wrong step, and Maker, you may break. 

He pulls back, chest plate secure, and his fingertips skim the rough fabric of your trousers. 

“Thanks.” Your whisper plumes in the air. You hold your hand to your armored chest. 

He nods. And then he is moving, reaching for you, and you cannot help but reach for him too. 

Your arms clutch his pauldrons, fingernails digging into the human flesh you find there. He is real. Right now he is real, and you are safe, and you can still touch him. Moisture lifts behind your eyes, but you push it down. There’s no time; not now.

“We’ll be fine.” You close your eyes, digging your teeth into the skin of your cheek to keep the mounting emotions at bay. “We will laugh about this on the other side.”

Hands clasped against either side of your face, Din presses his forehead to yours. “I lo—”

“No. Don’t say it.” You press your fingertips to his helm, to the shape of his mouth somewhere beneath layers of steel. “After. Tell me after.”

He hesitates then nods. “Okay.” A single finger catches in your hair, and you wonder if he is memorizing you. “After.”

You are the first to move, rising from your crouch to a battle-ready stance. 

By your rough estimate, the service entrance to the compound is one klick away. Five guards patrolling the perimeter, barely any natural formations to give you cover as you cross the terrain. With Din’s reduced armor, his black flight suit may as well be a beacon in this white tundra. You could go by foot and risk someone catching sight of Din’s flight suit, or you could use the speeder and take the chance that someone may hear the engine running as you approach. 

You decide to go on foot. Between the unrelenting wind and drifting snow, you will pray to the Maker the patrolmen are shortsighted. Once you get closer to the service entrance itself, you will transition to a crawl. From there—

You’ll figure it out if you manage to make it that far.

At his behest, Din walks in front of you. He is bigger and therefore blocks more of the wind. His footfalls create an easy path for you to follow through the mounting snow. Both combined will make for a shorter trek. 

Step after step, you trudge through the shin-deep blizzard. You clutch your scarf to your mouth, breathing hard as you slog. 

“Forty yards then we crawl.” Din’s voice crackles through the earpiece snug in your left ear.

Large flakes of snow catch in your eyelashes when you glance up to the battlement. The camp widens as you draw nearer. A well-camouflaged cancer, you think. Tucked away in some remote corner of the universe, silent but deadly, growing with every passing day. Sickness oozes from every crack and crevice of the stone facade. You can practically smell it. 

He’s there—in the camp—lounging or eating or fucking—and you are here, outside, waiting to strike.

Din lowers to his stomach when the camp’s shadow falls across his boots. Though the snowfall has picked up, adding another layer of cover, you can never be too careful. You follow his lead, crawling across the ground, using your knees and forearms to propel your movement.

Snow and ice gathers in the folds of your suit; the damp, moist feeling is quick to follow. The mineral-taste of fresh snow laden with atmospheric junk sours on your tongue. You spit, shaking your head free of the snow catching and freezing to your hair.

“Almost there.”

Your forearms ache, and you can feel the warm trickle of blood at your knee. Rugged ground beneath your arms and ice at every turn threatens to push you to injury before crossing the threshold of the camp. You suck in a breath and push forward. 

Finally, the service entrance pokes through the thickening wall of snow. The hangar door stands open, and a pale yellow light attempts to pierce the unrelenting white of the landscape.

When Din stands, you too rise on quaking limbs. “The snow,” you gasp. “I think it helped.”

He checks his vambrace. “Sensors read an incoming blizzard. We got here at the right time.”

You could say something about the total whiteout surrounding you already being of help, but you save your breath.

Din holds his blaster close, gesturing to the one at your hip with the muzzle of his weapon. “Be ready,” he says. “Whoever, whatever—take it out.”

You nod. 

He hesitates, as though he wants to say something more, and you think this would be the moment he could shed his helmet and kiss you. Man to woman. Human to human. You would readily accept the moment, bleed into his kiss, meld into his body, but—

He simply nods. 

Turning, Din hugs the wall as he stalks the length of the empty hangar. You keep to his shadow, footsteps light and practiced. At the other side of the room, there is a door which must enter the sanctity of the camp itself. After skirting workbenches and mislaid tools, you reach it. Din tries the handle. It swings open.

Warmth billows from the corridor like the breath of hell. You squint against the firelight that swallows the hallway and the meeting room beyond. No time for hesitation; no time for adjustment. You squeeze your eyes open and shut and follow Din into the hallway wrapping around a communal hall.

The hall, square and narrow beneath a triangular roof, is void of life. A fire roars in the center of the room, logs piled high, flames licking out like demon tongues. You step quietly, studying the crates and barrels cluttered around the fire. No discernible features on any of the wooden boxes. Still, you doubt anyone will be feeding them to the fire anytime soon. The compound is too silent, too distracted. You feel it in the air, the false security of an incoming storm. 

Only the storm is already here.

Din’s footfalls thud in the stone hallway. You grit your teeth, praying to the gods everyone is asleep or otherwise distracted. You are here for Crik and only Crik. 

You curl your trigger finger against the blaster’s sear. 

“Hey!”

A voice—behind you. 

Twisting at the hip, you shoot before you see, but it does not matter. Din said whoever, whatever and you agree. If it takes Crik down, if it gets your sister the eternal rest she deserves, you will tear the camp to pieces with your bare hands.

Your shot hits the shoulder of a guard at the opposite end of the hallway. He grabs his wound, doubling over with a shout of pain and alarm. Din pushes past you, moving fast, his blaster holstered, his hands free. He grabs the guard before he can right himself. The guard looks up, eyes wild, mouth open to shout a warning signal. 

But you are there before he can make a sound. Your blood runs hot. This is it. It is happening, unfolding before you in slow motion. Justice tastes sweet. 

You cram the muzzle of your blaster in the slack-jawed guard’s mouth. His eyes drop to you, and he grunts, his tongue flailing against the barrel of your blaster. You shoot, you retreat, the body hits the ground as Din steps back. 

Down the hall now—away from the fire and the body, into a darker part of the camp.

Music wafts from some secret corner of the compound. Din looks at you as if to ask the question: That way? You nod. 

Your footsteps are the only sound as you follow the stonework of the compound’s hallways. The music, some lilting birdsong, grows louder, and your blood runs thicker, hungrier as Crick draws nearer. 

Another guard steps out of a dark alcove, blaster raised. Din withdraws a throwing star from a compartment in his vambrace. He flicks it outward, catching the guard’s wrist. The blaster falls, and you scoop it from the ground. Din’s fist lands against the guard’s cheekbone. He falls back, holding his face in pain. You bring the blaster grip down on his temple. 

Onward. The music pulses now, or maybe it is just your heartbeat. Your sister’s face floats before you, some ghostly image or vision that buoys you forward.

“Wait.” Din holds out his arm, and you nearly run into it.  

You stand in the doorway of a new common area. Music spills into the hall. A singer you cannot see from your vantage point sings about love. Their voice lifts over the sound of conversation, each syllable a honeyed-tenor. The song builds, words of devotion and ardor, feelings of passion and desire. You do not allow yourself to fall prey to the heightening emotion; you keep your eyes fixed on the room within. On the man with the shaved head and the scar on his cheek.

The song hits its crescendo, the singer’s voice frozen in a high note.

Din snaps his fingers. “Now.”

Bursting into the room, you shoot blindly. You counted five men when in the doorway. Five of them, two of you. You like those odds. 

Blasterfire pings in every corner. You drop, rolling across the floor to swing your leg outward against a pudgy man’s knee. He curses as he falls, and you bring your dagger to his neck. You slice without thought. Blood gushes over your hand, staining your fingers, but you press on, knocking the man to his side.

On the other side of the room, Din carves his way through Crik’s sycophants. He moves with ease, throwing his elbow, bending to a twist when a blaster shot arcs over his head. He is heading for Crik, and you are eager to get there with him.

A female Twi’lek crosses your path. She bares teeth sharpened to a point. You raise your dagger, and she lifts a shortsword, grinning.

She thrusts first, and you parry. You whirl on your heel, bringing your blade in a wide arc over your head and shoulders. The Twi’lek ducks and catches the back of your leg with the point of her sword. You clench your jaw, but do no more to let the pain show on your face. Lurching forward, you grab the back of a nearby chair. The Twi’lek pauses for breath, pauses to watch her surroundings, pauses to watch the blood that streams down your leg. 

Big mistake.

You lift the chair in your hand and swing. It catches the Twi’lek in the stomach. She stumbles backward. You do not let go. You run, pushing against the Twi’lek with the seat of the chair. She frowns, fingers grabbing for the legs of the chair for some upperhand, but you push harder, forcing her across the floor until she hits the wall with a heavy thud. You drop the chair and bring your blaster up, eye level with your opponent. 

“Fucking bitch,” she mutters. 

You can’t help but grin. “Always.”

You slam your forehead against her face. Stars wash over your vision, but you feel her nose crack against your forehead. 

Stumbling backward, you shake your head free of the immediate pain of the headbutt. The Twi’lek curses as she clutches her nose, blood dripping from beneath her fingers. She looks up at you, rage like a steel trap in her eyes. 

She bolts. Blood flows from her nose, leaking onto the neck of her shirt, flinging in a shower of droplets onto the ground. Arms pumping, she advances on you. You stand your ground, dagger in one hand, blaster in the other. 

You’ll take her down. You know you can.

You brace for impact, but the Twi’lek veers for the right. You frown, stepping back to adjust your position. Only she is up, in the air, jumping, her foot hitting off a support beam in the center of the room. She pounces, and she is flying, circling over you like a predator over prey.

Now it is you who is stumbling. You card backward, glancing from the incoming Twi’lek to Din, who advances on Crik with one of the remaining guards at his back. Crik strikes outward with a shortsword. He hits Din’s unarmored stomach, and Din stops his advance, pausing long enough to show a moment of pain. 

Your attention slips. The Twi’lek descends. The hilt of her sword lands hard on the left side of your skull.

Pain explodes over your head in radiant bursts of light and fire. You fall, shouting out as you collapse. Your forearms break the fall as you catch yourself with whatever sense you have left, but you cannot rise to your feet. A bell clangs in your head; your mind feels sluggish. It is as if you have been rendered mute and immoveable. You have become a rock, and the stream of life flows all around you. The fight continues on, but you cannot join in. 

Blood pools in your mouth. A tooth? Your tongue? Perhaps neither. Perhaps both.

Tears well in your eyes as the clanging continues. Your head feels heavy, and your stomach heaves against the pain. You wretch, and the revolt in your stomach pushes you on to your hands and knees. You vomit, and somewhere overhead the Twi’lek laughs. 

“Yes,” she says. “Definitely a bitch.”

You stumble to your feet, eyes lazy as they swing from one side of the room to the other. You are underwater, surely. You cannot hear, and you cannot see, and you cannot think. You must be drowning. This is what drowning feels like.

You mumble something around a thick tongue. The Twi’lek cocks her head, laughing still. “What was that?” she asks. “I didn’t really hear you.”

There are two of her now, twins that ebb and flow like the tide, a double of evil. You cannot determine the true twin, the one who must have come first, but you see them both, and you hate them both, and that must be enough. 

With a cry, you fall forward, your dagger pointed and at the ready. The Twi’lek catches you, but she does not catch your dagger, the one hidden beneath your sleeve. It sinks into the juncture of her neck and shoulder. You grit your teeth as you push harder, harder, until the hilt seems to disappear within her oozing and bleeding flesh.

She is silent as she falls, her eyes bouncing between yours. Blood rises to the corners of her mouth, and she gasps for breath. You drop to your knees with her as the life floods from her face. You place her head on the ground, and you hover over her, watching as her soul slips.

“Fuck-k-ing bii-tchh,” she gargles. Blood spills over her lips as she gags. 

Gasping, sucking air into your throat and your lungs and your soul, you nod. “Yeah,” you say. “Yeah, that’s never been a question.”

Her head lolls to the side. 

You look up across the room to Din. He stands face to helmet, arm in arm, with Rendell Crik. Though your heart beats wildly against your ribcage, you cannot stop. He is near, at your fingertips. He is surrounded by the bodies of his stupid, oafish lackeys, and you are here, and he is held by the most powerful man on the planet. 

You rise on shaking legs. You swipe your hand over your mouth. Rendell Crik fills your vision. You take one step forward.

A shot rings out.

The Mandalorian falls.

NEXT CHAPTER (coming soon)

[whiskeynwriting]

Pedro Pascal Movie Game

Thank you for tagging me love! @adikas-anonymous ♥️🥰 and thank you for creating the game!! @boliv-jenta

I freaking love it omg and I will definitely be updating it as I continue to watch his roles 😍

New game, how many things have you been suckered into watching to catch a glimpse of Pedro?

Green: All of it

Orange: Just his scenes

Red: None

No pressure tags: @moralesthots @phnyx @beskarprincessjenny @thesleepingmusicneek @sweetangel0069 @nagassia @lucky-pascal @just-here-for-the-moment @pedrohoe04 @mariwinns16 @oogaboogasphincter @axshadows @kulicny @ohpedromypedro @silver-pieces @stxrrylunatic

[manuphantom]

hello 😊

@thewaythisis      @ohpedromypedro    @oberynispunk       @dornish-queen    

@tomhardydallasstarsgirl     @gamingaquarius      @miriammkv    @pedritopascals      @ithinkwehitametaphor    @pedropascalito

[agent-whiskeys-sweetheart]

1000 Follower Sleepover!

WOW! Wow, wow, wow. I cannot believe that I have finally reached 1000 followers! I am so immensely grateful for every last one of you! I love you more than words can express and I’m so grateful for everything you’ve all done for me. You are absolutely the best and I adore you all so so much. Thank you for this tremendous gift. 

With that being said, we have to CELEBRATE! This is not a milestone to be simply passed over. After much deliberation I’ve decided that I’d love to have a sleepover with all of you! I’ve seen a few other people do them and would love to do one as well as a way to come together and commemorate this achievement. At my sleepover, anything goes! So get comfy in some pajamas, cuddle up, and let’s have a conversation! Some examples of asks that you can send;

Games! (Would You Rather, FMK, etc.) 

Favorite Characters/AUs/Tropes!

Thoughts About My Fics!

Ideas For Mini Drabbles!

Fic Recommendations!

Ask Me Anything!

Thirsty Thoughts! 

Fic Requests!

The sleepover will take place Friday the 13th, Saturday the 14th, and Sunday the 15th! The party will go from 5:00 pm until I fall asleep! While I am answering asks and messages only on these three days, feel free to send anything in between now and then so I have plenty to answer! I am so so excited about this! I just can’t wait to hear from all of you! If you don’t mind to like, reblog, and tell your friends so everyone can join in on the fun I’d really appreciate it. THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH and I can’t wait to see you at the sleepover!

Tags: @talesfromtheguild @lannister-slings-and-arrows @gamingaquarius @gryffindorwriter @nopeforyou @sheerfreesia007 @roxypeanut @ohpedromypedro @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @readsalot73 @the-mechanical-angel @races-erster  @maxlordd @simplecottagecorebitch @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @unearthlydust 

[agentwhiskeysdarlin]

Small Comforts

Pairing: Jack Whiskey Daniels x Fem!Reader

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: angst, Jack crys, mentions of a sex trafficking ring as part of mission (very brief), I think that’s it 

Word Count: 722

Author’s Note: I was in my feels the other night over the cowboy and was wanting to play with his hair so this happened. I didn’t intend for it to be angsty but that’s just what happened. As always thank you so my unofficial/official editor @clint-aww-no-barton​. I hope you all enjoy and feedback is always welcomed! Also surprise cause I didn’t plan this one at all. I couldn’t find the gif that gave me this idea so this one will have to work.

ao3 link for story

  Rain fell steady against the roof above your head. The dim light of the lamp on your nightstand was just enough for you to read by. You had decided to head up to bed early, even after sitting for hours checking your phone for the time and any messages. He had told you he would be home at some point that night but you never knew when. The last time you had spoke to him you could hear in his voice how rough the mission had been.

  You heard the front door open and close. A bag dropped to the ground and then the heavy boot steps making their way towards you. You stuck a bookmark between the pages, marking your spot, before sitting your book aside just in time to see Jack walk through the door. The second you saw him your heart sank. He walked with a limp, his entire body slumped and weary. The look on his face broke your heart. You hadn’t seen him like this in a long time. He pulled off his jacket before slipping off his boots and hanging his hat up. He didn’t even bother with the rest of his clothes before crawling into bed. You patted your lap without a word and he fixed himself lying down, his head falling into your lap.

  Your fingers laced through his hair and began to pull softly at the brown locks, massaging his scalp. It earned a sigh from him and you felt his body relax. You wanted to ask what happened but didn’t want to bring it up. You knew he would tell you but the need to know if he was fully okay was eating at you.

  “Are you okay my love?” Your voice was soft and easy.

  “I’m alright darlin’. I got a few bruised rips and just going to be real sore. I had go check in with Ginger before I could come home,” he spoke softly his hand reaching out to run at your covered leg softly.

  You reached your other hand down and his found it before lacing your fingers together. He played with your fingers softly, a silence falling between the two of you. Your fingers never left his hair until he was raising up and looking over at you. His eyes searched over your face, so full of weariness and something else that worried you. He reached up and kissed you softly but he lingered a lot longer than you thought he might.

  “Jack are you sure you’re okay?” You brought a hand up to his cheek and searched his face after the two of you pulled apart.

  “I…It was a human trafficking ring. There was a woman and she…she looked just like you. I even did a double take because I thought…and my heart sank. I couldn’t imagine,” his voice fell to a whisper. “If something happened to you…I wouldn’t never be able to live with myself.”

  He fell apart then and you pulled him to you, letting him let it out while you held him. You let your fingers run through his hair again, and you shushed him trying to calm him down.

  “I’m right here Jack. You won’t let anything like that happen to me and I know it,” you pulled at him slightly so he would look up at you.

  Your hands went to his face and you bent down to kiss him again. When you pulled away your forehead fell to his softly and the two of you sat there for a moment just enjoying each other’s touch.

  “Why don’t we go take a shower? Or even a bath if you would rather,” you finally spoke.

  “I figured you already had one.”

  “I can take another one,” you smiled softly down at him.

  “Can we just lay here a bit longer? I just want to hold you darlin’. Make sure you’re…” his voice faded.

  “Shhh Jack I know. We can do that.”

  You moved down under the covers where he soon moved in close. He pulled you to him, his arms encasing you and once again he let out a breath like he finally knew you were really here and not going anywhere.

  “I’m never going to let you go darlin’.”

  “I don’t want you to my love, never.”

Taglist: @jimmythegirl​ @arcadianempress​ @discogrrl​ @immundusspiritu​ @someplace-darker​ @thisis-theway​ @ohpedromypedros-main​ @scribbledghost​ @fioccodineveautunnale​ @spookyold-saintjm​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld​ @princess-and-pedro​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @littlevodka​ @all-hallows-evie​ @mack4676​ @perropascal​ @audreyshepbvrn​

[pedropascalspain]

It is amazing how creative the people are, and I just want to thank you all, everyone of the creators, big or small, here on tumblr that make life better for the rest of us. ¡Bravo! 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻😘😘😘

I’ve just want to tag some amazing blogs to check (hope you don’t mind):

@yespolkadotkitty @thewayofthemandalorian @songsformonkeys @marvel-and-mischief @absurdthirst @allthingsnarcos @softpedropascal @manuphantom @ithinkwehitametaphor @scribbledghost @dornish-queen @ohpedromypedro @f0rever15elf @thewaythisis @din-damn-djarin

[pintsizemama]

So, I have hit 300. (Well over that at this point now). First off, thank you so much! It means the world to me that my writing is being consumed and enjoyed by someone other than me!

I’m still working through my asks from my 200 milestone, so I haven’t even begun to think about what to do for 300…and knowing how slow I’ve been writing lately, I’ll probably (fingers crossed) hit 400 before I can even organize myself. LOL.

I’ve been inspired by @paisley-print — Side note, if you are not following her or haven’t read any of her works, stop what you’re doing and head over to her blog right now. She is an INCREDIBLE writer, and you will not be disappointed.

Anyway, Paisley put up a google docs poll to celebrate her hitting 200 followers and to better understand what her readers want to see. It was an absolutely brilliant idea! I made my own poll and have attached it here.

Please feel free to take the poll—or not—no pressure. It is 100% anonymous. It would really help me to get an understanding of what you all want to read. So, if you take the time to go through it, I greatly appreciate it! Feel free to reblog and share with whomever you want! 😘

300 Follower Poll

Tagging a few I think might be interested:

@xocalliexo @stevie75 @anaaaispunk @strangercoven @sleep-tight1 @juletheghoul @falulagellerr @just-here-for-the-moment @maxwell--lord @gothicxbarbie @supernaturalgirl89 @paintballkid711 @dihra-vesa @mswarriorbabe80 @kirsteng42 @hnt-escape @toomanystoriessolittletime @ayoungpascallover-readings @eternal-fangirl @savannah-elliott @readsalot73 @athalien @ikinmahlen @librariantothejedi @peach-child @myheart-pedro @rrtxcmt @sewmanystitchssewlittletime @dodgerandevans @bdffkierenwalker @librariantothejedi @evyiione @fwebb @phoenixhalliwell @quica-quica-quica @daryldixonstorm @dobbyjen @ohpedromypedro @robur-bellicum @andiesturgss @javierpinme @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @writeforfandoms

[1800-fight-me]

i am once again begging for a head canon/imagine based on a gif of matty: car sex/steamy interaction edition

mwah 💕🪷 take your time and if you celebrated any of the holy week holidays i hope it was pleasant 💕🤍🪷

Stress Relief

Matt Murdock x gn!Reader (No Y/N)

Rating: M- this is 18+ so minors better get off my lawn

Warnings: smutty vibes

Word count: a bit over 400

Author’s note: thanks for this ask and sorry it took me so long to answer it!

P.S. Here’s a link to my masterlist if you’d like to check out my other writing!

You rolled the window down and called Matt’s name as soon as you saw him walk out the door and onto the sidewalk. 

He grinned as he opened the passenger door and sat himself in your car. 

“Hey sweetheart,” he said, voice syrupy sweet, as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. 

“Hey,” you said distractedly as you pulled back into traffic and tapped your fingers anxiously. 

His fingers grazed up your arm as he asked, “You okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah, for sure,” you muttered back unconvincingly as you honked your horn at the car in front of you for going too slow. 

“Damn it,” you grumbled. 

He grabbed your hand and squeezed it three times and then pressed a kiss to your palm. 

“You seem stressed,” he murmured as he pressed a kiss to the inside of your wrist. 

Your breath hitched and you glanced over at him. 

His lips moved slowly from your wrist up the inside of your arm. 

“Matt-“

“What’s wrong?” 

You sighed. “I’m stressed.” 

“Obviously,” he said with another press of his lips to your skin, “you didn’t even call me pretty boy.” 

You choked out a laugh. “Aw, I’m sorry, pretty boy. I just don’t really want to go to this stupid wedding and I don’t want to be late and I’m all worked up about it.” 

His lips had reached your shoulder now and he bit down before he asked, “So why are we going?”

“Because if I don’t go then it’ll cause drama and will be a whole thing,” you huffed. 

He continued his trail of kisses up to your neck and you smiled. 

“And I’m dragging you along with me to make it less miserable for me.”

“Maybe I could make it actually enjoyable for you,” he said and you gasped as his teeth pressed into your pulse point. 

“Pull over,” he whispered. 

“But we’ll be late,” you gasped out as his fingers drifted across your chest. 

“C’mon let me relieve some of that stress,” he murmured as he kissed your neck again. 

“Shit, fuck, damn it,” you muttered as you found a safe and secluded place to pull the car over. 

As soon as you yanked the car into park you unbuckled your seatbelt and lunged for him. 

You slammed your lips into his and he chuckled into your mouth as he pulled you the rest of the way onto his lap. 

Needless to say, you were late for the wedding, but it was totally worth it.

Matt Murdock Taglist:

@mindidjarin @hotnmad @samwisethegr8 @catholicdaredevil @salome-c @sobachka-korol @carters-things @enjoymyloves​

Everything taglist:

@spideysimpossiblegirl @dinandgone @ohpedromypedro @littlemisspascal @tombraider42017 @kirsteng42​ @just-here-for-the-moment