Latest Posts by awholelottayeehaw - Page 7

Yooo I have no idea what I've done to bless the gods today, but I'm not complaining that I keep getting updates from some of my favorite fan works on AO3 today and this past weekend! Feeling extremely blessed. Thank you, Betty White! 🫶

@oonajaeadira has a great response to the reason drama in the Pedro fandoms and I hope we can all learn to handle these situations as lovingly, gently, but firmly as her. Everyone's feelings are valid, but not everyone's actions are and I hope we can all move on and make this a learning lesson where no one else gets hurt. Mentally, physically, or emotionally. As a writer, my first reaction was to block, but Adira's loving note made me reconsider and have an open heart about this. For everyone involved.

Not trying to add to any drama, my heart goes out to everyone who is hurting from this.

I am not stealing anything. I have removed/ changed everything I've been asked to remove. I voiced my opinion. This post by @stealyourblorbos is unwarranted, nasty, and untrue. If y'all would give me a chance, then maybe this can be worked out without hard feelings and people being blocked.

Come sit next to me, kitkat. Let me love on you. Gonna say some things that you might not like all the way, but I see that you're angry and hopefully I can help you see where I'm at.

Listen. Jules is a good friend of mine and I trust her. With my life. Every interaction I've had with her has been genuine and while I don't know everything about her life, I know enough that having her work stolen can be not only demoralizing, but damaging to her profits. She is a working artist. And while, yes, she does post stuff very generously online for free, those posts can bring her commissions and work. So to have someone pass them off as their own can be severely heartbreaking and damaging.

I didn't see the posts in question, so I have to imagine what the situation was. I truly believe that you didn't mean to pass the work off as your own. You may have just seen something beautiful and posted it because you're curating your blog. But if you don't credit the artist or reblog from the original source, that is basically you claiming yourself as the OG poster, and that is a kind of theft. It's better if you post a link to the artist. But it's best if you reblog from the original post itself. That's how the artist intended the work to be shown and it also directs people back to their blog so they can gain interest and therefore work.

You already know all of this and I'm sorry if this comes off as condescending. I don't want to condescend. At all. I asked you to sit by me for a reason.

If you noticed, I did NOT block you. In fact, the post led me to follow you. Because as much as I trust Jules, I also love her a hell of a lot and I know myself enough to know that emotions can do things to judgment. I wanted to make sure I wasn't just blocking you blindly out of my love for her. I always want to give people the benefit of the doubt and see their side of things before I bring out the pitchfork.

So I took a look at your page. Did I see anything that was stolen and passed off as your own? No. Did I see a few pieces of reposted artwork that wasn't credited? I did. Hmm. So there's some improvement that could happen there. But. I appreciate that you have done your best to remedy the situation. I'm glad you ultimately respected the wishes of the artist to remove a piece when it was asked you do so. Thank you.

Now then, let's get to my actions. Did I reblog Jules' post? You bet I did. She was hurt, she's my friend, and she's a fellow creator. As a creator myself I would feel horrible if someone reposted my work without crediting me. I felt that hurt in my soul. And whether you apologized or took down the posts, that hurt remains and distrust will linger. Righting a wrong does not instantly warrant forgiveness. That must be earned.

If you did something to hurt and you're sorry for it, then you'll do what you can to show that you truly appreciate the art that you put on your blog. In this case, you could do your best to credit and support the artists whose art you love. Follow a few of them and get to know them. Tell your followers who they are and why you love their art. Become a friend to artists.

However, if you believe you weren't in the wrong, that others are overreacting, then I stand by my reblog of Jules' post. You'll notice my tags were something along the line of "don't do this." And I mean that. This is a cautionary tale for others. "Please, fandom friends, don't treat creators this way. It hurts, and we'll get angry about it."

So know that while I listen to my friend--someone who has been nothing but good to me and deserves my support--I'm also listening to you. I hear you. I am 100% giving you a chance. I don't want to block you, because in this fandom we've all been through enough mistaken conduct and finger-pointing and really, all we all wanna do is love a really nice man and the work he does. I know that's what Jules wants, it's what I want, and taking the time to peek at your blog, now I think that's probably what you want too.

But just to be sure, I'll give you a follow and get to understand you better. While I must support my friend's feelings, I hope in time I can come to trust that your intentions are well-meaning.

(gif by dieter-bravo)

full offense but none of you would have ever survived fanfiction.net in 2009

Changing my pronouns to Yes/And. Please respect my commitment to the bit and refer to me as whatever is funniest in the current situation

baby yoda

What is or isn’t a slur can be highly contextual, y'all.

“Jonny Sims bummed a fag off my ma” doesn’t contain a slur, but “What are you, some kind of fag?” does.

“Queer studies”, “the queer community” and “I’m queer”? Not a slur. Some bigot calling you a “dirty queer”? Slur.

“Be gay, do crimes” and “He’s gay” ≠ slur, but “Ew, that’s so gay” = slur.

In conclusion, stop buying into this fucking “q slur” bullshit. Queer people talking about the queer community aren’t using it as a slur any more than a gay man calling himself gay is using that term as a slur.

Upcoming Fics (Updated 7/30/22)

To hold myself accountable and motivate me, here's a sneak peek list of upcoming fics!

DIN DJARIN (THE MANDALORIAN) FICS

On a Hot, Hot Day (sequel to On a Cold, Cold Night) - Din x Reader, rated T. OUT NOW!

On a Dry, Dry Morning (Sequel to On a Hot, Hot Day) Din x Reader, rated T.

On a Wet, Wet Night (Sequel to On a Dry, Dry Morning) Din x Reader, rated M.

The Middle (a one-shot add-on to Before and After) - Din x Reader, rated E.

The Middle Pt. 2 (a one-shot add-on to Before and After) - Din x Reader, rated E.

The Alchemist's Arcana (pending title, multi-chapter series) - Din x Reader, rated E.

PROSPECT FICS

Where the Sky Met the Sea (multi-chapter series) - Ezra x Reader (Prospect), rated E.

Dividers ❀

After the last batch got so much positive feedback, I decided to make some more dividers! Like the first batch, reblogs and likes are much appreciated, especially if you use them for any of your works. You can credit me if you want, but you don't have to!

≫ Here's the link to the first batch ≪

The 18+ Category

≫ ──── ≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫ ──── ≪

The Support Your Creators Category

Cave House | Ortahisar, Nevsehir, Turkey

tips for writing Star Wars fanfic/Star Wars roleplay things

it’s not concrete; it’s duracrete

viewports are the windows on ships

not a plane; ship or speeder

it’s not steel; it’s durasteel

books are rare; holorecords or datapads

it’s not a glass pane it’s transparisteel

caf is the equivalent of coffee

it’s not paper it’s a flimsi

medcenter is a hospital

Star Wars can be very similar to things we’re already used to, but getting familiar with some of these terms can make your writing really fit in with the universe

The Fiddle Concerto album by Mark O'Connor. Using the term "played like a fiddle" in the most literal sense possible, I see.

ur government assigned gender for the day is the first thing u get when u click this link to a randomised wikipedia article. NO REROLLS . i am the  trollsteineggje mountain in norway

Contemplating some of my favorite fics and how I'm happy they exist but also sad AO3 doesn't have a chat option because I have some thots™️ I really want/need to talk to someone about but I don't have many friends who are as into Mando let alone Star Wars as I am or read Din x reader inserts (hence why I'm here).

So this is my Bat-signal for anyone out there who's read Babysitting for an Alpha by Much_Ado_Abt_Novels and or An Exchange of Credits by ninaloveshiddles to slide into my DMs to cry, rage, and gush with me over how beautiful these fics are and how they've honestly been living in my head rent free these past few weeks. Especially An Exchange of Credits the last chapter has had me angsting and yearning all week and I could use a support buddy right now.

God okay I'm just. So fucking tired. So here's a list of resources to educate yourself on issues within Star Wars. In light of the Bad Batch Finale and the announcement of the second season, it's vital that you educate yourself about the racism and other issues present.

Reminder that you cannot be in the middle. You are either racist or anti-racist. If you do not practice anti-racism and choose to stay "neutral", you are only supporting a system that constantly perpetuates racism and harms people.

And if for some reason, you think I'm overreacting; for some reason, you think I'm sensitive; for some reason, your first instinct is to get defensive and lash out; you really need to do some thinking as to why you want to scream at POC who just want the right to be recognized and seen. Who just want the right to not be erased.

And if you think this is "not good enough" because they're "just blog posts" or whatever - don't bullshit me. Even if I posted a shit ton of scholarly articles you wouldn't have read them anyway if you're coming at me with excuses for why you think the discrimination is okay. These posts are accessible, and well-written, and straight from the lived experiences of the many minorities and the allies that want to amplify their voices. I'm not asking you to take everything at face value. I'm asking you to do your own research and engage in some critical thinking instead of blindly accepting what you're given.

*Disclaimer: while I have read these sources, i read some a while ago and if there's an issue you have with some of them let me know!

(If your post is listed and you want me to take it off the list please dm me and let me know!)

The Bad Batch

#unwhitewashtbb carrd - with extensive resources here that speak about the Māori people, their culture, and the current issues they face. If you care about them, then read these resources and amplify their voices.

Petition to #unwhitewashtbb

Why you're actively supporting racism if you decide not to support anti-racist movements because you "have beef with someone" who's an anti-racist

The importance of speaking about #unwhitewashtbb, from a Polynesian fan (With another post by them!)

How Kanan is whitewashed

Clone Whitewashing #1 - how the SW crew most definitely knows how to animate dark-skinned clones with proper facial features yet chose not to

Clone Whitewashing #2 - with really clear pictures of the whitewashing

Clone Whitewashing #3 - with an extensive Temura Morrison reference sheet

Issues with Echo's design

Reasons why the take that "Omega is light-skinned because she's based on Temura Morrison's sister" and the take that "Polynesian people can be light-skinned too you're just being racist" are absolute shit takes (similar post, #2)

How Fennec Shand is whitewashed - the intricacies of her design

Fixed Fennec Shand design

How Temura Morrison has previously also been whitewashed in SW media

The Clone Wars

Islamophobia in Barriss Offee's portrayal, from a muslim woman.

How Barriss is muslim-coded, from a muslim woman.

The Mandalorian

"Bleaching" Temura Morrison

General Resources Around Star Wars

Orientalism in Star Wars

The Islamic Origins Of The Jedi

Ableism in Star Wars

Sinophobia in Star Wars, from me, a Chinese woman.

Resources about AO3 and racism

POC are not a monolith: why it's not ok to say "light-skinned minorities exist" in response to calls to stop whitewashing

How whitewashing has affected SW as a whole

John Boyega and Racism

Orientalism in SW Music

Feel free to add further resources in reblogs or just send them straight to me and I'll add them!

Oh, and by the way, if you think "it's just fiction you're just overreacting this doesn't hurt anyone": news flash: it sure does.

CBC News: Anti-Asian Racism in the media

Role of Media in anti-asian racism

NPR: Hollywood colorism

How the media fuels anti-black racism

Ways anti-indigenous racism is expressed in media and in other ways

NBC News: Rise in anti-asian racism

Resources on anti-black racism

What I've listed above is only a single drop in a massive ocean. There are so, so many other minority groups who are also suffering that I haven't listed. I haven't even touched on homophobia, on transphobia, and I've barely touched on ableism, not to mention that there's so many other issues out there. I haven't talked about the issues with how the Tuskens are portrayed, or how Watto is portrayed, or how Jar Jar Binks was portrayed, or how Kelly Marie Tran was treated, or how Trace and Rafa Martez were treated, or how the fandom hates Mace Windu, or how Poe's backstory was butchered, or much, much more. If you have more resources, please please please share them in the reblogs. It is impossible to encompass everything in a single post, but we sure as hell can try.

Alright. I've given you the resources. I've given you my time and energy. It's up to you now to educate yourself. It's ok to make mistakes - we're constantly learning and unlearning. It's ok to need to take breaks, and to save this for later because you're tired and the world is going to shit. We are human.

But it's not okay to stay willfully ignorant. It's not okay to constantly try and belittle the trauma and struggles of minorities just because you've been okay living in a system that's built on oppression. Educate yourself.

One more tip: when reblogging or sharing your own resources, flood your tags with everything to do with Star Wars. Flood the Crosshair tag. Flood the Hunter and Omega tag. Flood the tags, because this is relevant to their characters and to the entire saga, and fans need to know.

Including tags of the people I posted resources from under the cut!

@royalhandmaidens @queen-breha-organa @milfcaptainrex @milfchewbacca @bisexualmikisayaka @fixyourwritinghabits @starilicious @jester-mereel @milfbailorgana @cafffine @milfcommandercody @thecyndimistuff @shoulderpads-mcgee2

(If I'm missing a tag and you want to be tagged please let me know!)

“You have already left kudos here :)” not on this chapter bitch move over

To Wong Foo Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar (1995)

Dir. Beeban Kidron

This was one of the first spicy fics I read in the fandom when I got into the fandom, or at least the first to really stick out to me. I love @prolix-yuy's fics so much, genuinely a huge inspiration and another reason I came out of fanfic retirement. Everything they write is both hot and sweet and I wanna live up to that as a writer.

Possession

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader x Cobb Vanth

Summary: In a city called Mos Pelgo, soon to be named Freetown, a Marshal, a Mandalorian, and a Guild member sit for a drink. They also sit with a question - how to get rid of the adrenaline coursing through their veins, remnants of tearing a krayt dragon in two.

You have some ideas.

Word Count: 8.8k

Warnings: Holy Hell E, 18+ Smut, MINORS DNI, Threesome, descriptions of male and female bodies, PiV sex, fingering, oral sex (m and f receiving), anal play, rimming, cum eating, creampie, unprotected sex (reader is on birth control), don’t be a fool wrap your tool, fingers in mouths, rough sex, everyone’s a switch and everyone is bi, m/m, m/m/f, m/f, The Helmet Comes Off, slight sensory deprivation, a dash of feelings.

Notes: As promised, to celebrate 162 followers (WHAT) and an early April Fool's Day, a piece of absolute smutty smutness. After the throwaway line in Good Company about how hot it would be to watch Mando and Vanth fight over armor, this leapt out of me.

This fic is NOT set in my ongoing I Think of You series. Though the reader character there might have had a dream or two like this…I was a whore for Timothy Oliphant long before I tumbled into Pedro Pascal, and what I wouldn’t give to be in that hunk sandwich.

Posted in its entirety on AO3, heed the warnings! I'm including my Mando taglist but if this isn't your cup of tea scroll along friend!

*drops fic on the ground and runs like it's a live grenade*

The aftermath of S2EP1: The Marshal.

Possession on AO3

Join my Taglist!

Mando Taglist: @mandosmistress, @amban-rifle, @sxoulchvn, @amywritesthings, @amneris21, @frasmotic, @mrsbourbonborn, @kirsteng42, @Guessitwillallworkout, @startrekkingaroundasgard, @ezras-channel-rat, @jay-bel, @songsformonkeys, @iamskyereads, @mswarriorbabe80, @bucketbunny, @justalittleweirdoo, @blub-senpai, @comfortincharacters, @adancedivasmom, @melymigo, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @tortor-mcgee, @datlilwrench, @jay-bel, @phandoz, @geminiwolves, @readsalot73, @shirukitsune

Things to Do to Reignite Your Writing Fire:

Read/view/discuss things that inspired your writing

Talk about the characters or plot points in your work that you're excited about/excited to get to

Learn about writing that you love that will make you remember why you love writing

Make a list of the reasons you started writing and reread it a few times

Talk to your favorite writers about what they love about being a writer

Make a list of all of the things you look forward to with your current WIP

Get more active in the writeblr community - start talking to other writers you've never spoken to, reach out to that writer you've always been too nervous to reach out to, make new friends

Create a character just to write a bunch of one-shots of all of the things you want to write about

Create a character that loves to write and see how much you can pour your own love of writing into them

me reading a slow burn with an idiots to lovers trope

Post The Mandalorian season 2, Pre-Book of Boba Fett: Din Djarin x Reader

Summary: The universe had a habit of pushing you and the Mandalorian together and tearing you apart at inconvenient times. With the Crest and Grogu gone and how expensive a new ship is, the universe forces the both of you to take on jobs that require you both to be away from each one other for long periods of time. To keep the love you have for one another strong in lonely stretches of space travel and planet-hopping, a compromise is made that tests your relationship.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Open relationships, smut, rough sex, romantic sex, F/F/M threesome (sort of), hook-ups, make-up sex, porn with plot, angst and fluff and smut, porn with feelings, unsafe sex, brief Din/OFC and reader/OMC. If I miss anything let me know!

This is the most romantic, filthiest thing I've ever written and probably not the most romantic filthiest thing I'm capable of writing, so enjoy the ride! The ending is worth it I promise!

Word Count: 7,197

The complication of the present is that there’s always an after. And where there’s an After, there’s a Before. A Before time, a Before moment, a Before person. Before choices affecting the After in ways one couldn’t begin to comprehend, and a cycle that tends to repeat itself.

Before there was Grogu, there was you. You, who took on more odd jobs than Din even knew existed. You, who went into every opportunity and job with enthusiasm that made Din’s reckless choices look like logical plans. You, who grated on his nerves when it was always you who could provide him with what he needed when no one else could. It was like the universe had created your very existence just to be his personal annoyance and greatest confidant. 

It wasn’t until After Grogu that Din was able to truly appreciate your spirit and tenacity. What he once believed to be a nuisance to his very existence was now as comforting as a child’s blanket. Over the years, just like the jobs in your life, things just fell into place not when he wanted them to, but when he needed them to. As if the universe and you were conspiring together to make him miserable and happy all at once. 

It was Before the Razor Crest was destroyed and Grogu had been taken by Moff Gideon when the line between friend and partner started to blend with lover. Underneath dark skies with the vast amount of stars twinkling down on them. Underneath the canopy of trees protecting you from the rain of whichever planet you met up. Underneath galaxies and supernovas and unforgiving suns on desert planets. 

The best job that fell into place after all that time wasn’t working as a translator for some noble or speech writer for a corrupt politician. It was being his missing piece, the very thing that filled the black hole in his heart right next to the one that Grogu filled. He thought when he got the kid back, the After would be you and him and the green bean finding a new ship and traveling off into the great, wide void, happily ever after. Wherever the universe took them, they’d go willingly.

He hadn’t expected such a different After.

Din hadn’t expected Grogu to be taken from him the moment he got him back. Din hadn’t expected to inherit a dead planet. Din hadn’t expected to be broke with no son and no covert to go back to and no Creed. If the universe worked so hard and for so long for his clan of three to be together, then why was it working so hard to keep them apart again?

That’s how you went back to the original Before. The Before where you took on more odd jobs than Din knew existed. The Before where he was nothing but a cold bounty hunter, married to his Creed. The Before where the universe was cruel and annoyed him and put everything it possibly could in his path to make him absolutely miserable. 

But it wasn’t as bad as the original Before. Sort of. He still had you. 

After Grogu was reunited with the Jedi, after Din inherited a dead planet, after the Crest was blown up and everything he knew crumbled in his hands; he begrudgingly agreed to buy a small property on whatever planet you both could afford. It would serve as a home base while you found work and saved enough to buy a ship and finally have that After you both originally thought you'd have. The After you both deserved. 

Din reinstated his membership with the Guild and you hustled for whatever job landed in front of you, regardless if it was dangerous or demeaning. It was what started your first major fight, when he found out you had pimped out your body to some rich senator while finishing a different job in Coruscant for enough credits to both feed you for a month and also make a dent in your ship funds. 

Din knew you hadn’t slept with the man out of infidelity, he just wished you had at least talked to him about that option before acting on it. But he also knew it was your body and your choice and he respected it. But that didn’t stop the hurt from taking root in his chest. Or the damage his pride took, knowing that you had to resort to that when he could barely afford public transportation to and from the Guild with a quarry. 

Din knew he was being irrational and cruel. But with the pain from everything the universe had thrown at him in the Aftermath of losing it all, Din took up a job through the guild that would pay almost as much as pimping yourself out had but would also keep him away from you for a number of months. Something he had agreed not to do, the both of you coming to the conclusion that no amount of money was worth being too far from one another for too long.

But the Aftermath left him hurt and hollow and prideful, and with very little communication, he took off one morning while you were still asleep for the bounty that would keep him away from you for a few months.

He watched Jakku, the only fucking planet he could afford to even buy you a house on, grew smaller and smaller and his heart ached worse and worse with every mile wedged between you two. Din regretted the way he left instantly, knowing you’d wake up cold in your shared bed to an empty house with half the armory gone. No goodbye, no lingering hugs or Keldabe kisses…

When the first month crept around the corner, Din was miserable. He missed you so much. He missed your gentle touches and laughter and the way you made the morning caf better than him. He missed the Crest and his son and his independence. He hated every transport ship he had to take, but he’d remember how you sold your body and the hurt and anger had him suck up the discomfort and pain and the yearning he had for you.

That was what might’ve led him to nearly make a horrible mistake.

He had finally caught the quarry after two months of playing cat and mouse. Din had cut off the man’s head, as he had done with other quarries, and stuffed it in a burlap bag. His adrenaline was high, chest heaving from the kill, and that was when he ran into her.

She was a random woman on some random planet but god, she looked so much like you. Same hair length and color, same face shape and lips… but the eyes were all wrong. They didn't have the same comfort and soul yours did, regardless if the color was close.  

She had come on to him and Din had been so close to bending her over and fucking her on a crate in an alleyway at the transportation hub waiting for his ship to Nevarro. He had his hand on her back, pressing her into the crate, other hand going for his zipper. 

Din had abruptly left like a phantom before he could go any further, shame washing over him. The trip to the Guild felt like it was mocking him with how slow it was, almost as if it purposefully was making him have to think about how badly he almost fucked up and how badly he had fucked up leaving you behind without saying goodbye and only checking in here and there. And it was equally slow going home.

Getting off the transport ship when he got back to Jakku was a blur. A blur of racing off the ship before everyone else and grabbing his weapons from the cargo hold and racing home as the sun was setting.

You had been folding laundry when Din more or less kicked the door open. You promptly dropped the clothes, hand going to the blaster you keep at your hip at all times, but he was there before you could touch the weapon.

Din crushed you to him, all the pain being replaced with a yearning he only had for you.

He didn’t bother waiting. He took you right there, pressed against the wall. Then he had you bent over the couch, on top of the table, in the shower with the lights off, and in your shared bed. Din couldn’t get enough of you, your smell, your taste. He fucked and whispered his apologies into your body all night long, your gasps and moans your only response.

He was finally home in every sense of the word, but the guilt sat heavily on his shoulder.

“I almost made a horrible mistake,” he whispered into the night, flat on his back with you curled under his arm and splayed over his bare chest. Din blankly stared up at the ceiling, fruitless with the pitch darkness of the room. You drew circles into his skin with your fingers, quietly waiting for him to elaborate.

Din swallowed the lump in his throat and told you about his trip, his frustrations, how sorry he was for leaving the way he had. That he understood now you did what you had to do for both of your well beings. He told you about the quarry and the adrenaline rush and how it almost lead to his infidelity.

Your hand stopped its movement and Din could’ve cried. He wanted to snatch your hand as you drew it away and place it on his heart instead and keep it there forever. But he let you retract your hand and felt you sit up in the darkness.

The years Before and After let him know that you were looking at him, even if you couldn’t see him, and he with you. But he didn’t feel judgment nor pain, just empathy and melancholy. Din felt you straddle his waist and his hands immediately rested on the dips in your hips, stroking the naked skin there.

It was then, in the After of his mistake and your fight, you proposed a proposition. One he never thought you or he would ever consider, especially not with a shaky voice.

“I think we need to reconsider the long distant jobs. I know we don’t want to be apart, but with the money you brought in and how much more we could if we both did…”

Now it was Din’s turn to trace circles into your skin, listening with a patience he didn’t know he had.

“I’m sorry I hurt you by selling myself. I didn’t think… I didn’t…”

Din sat up and captured you in a kiss that he hoped conveyed just how much he loved and forgave you. When he pulled away, he gently placed his forehead against yours as your voice drops to a whisper.

“I think we should consider taking on longer jobs. Just until we can save up for maybe a small ship, then a bigger one. Just work our way up. What we have now isn’t working as fast as we want and I don’t want that to hurt us... our relationship... our future..."

You splayed your hand on his chest, basking in the warmth of his breath tickling your face.

“And…I think until we can have the same stability we had on the Crest… and as long as you’re comfortable with it... maybe it might be best for us to have an open relationship?”

You had waited for his response and Din let the idea buzz around in his head in silence. He didn’t really want anyone else, just you. But the months away and the loneliness of the job and space… He thought back to the woman who looked like you but wasn’t you and imagined himself fucking her with no guilt. It made him hard thinking about it and he felt you giggle and wiggle around in his lap. Din slapped your ass to keep you still.

Din didn’t want anyone but you, but if he could have guilt free relief when he needed it, he would be okay with it. But the idea of you with another man made his blood boil. And as if sensing that, you pulled him into a long kiss and grinned into his lap.

“It doesn’t have to be forever, just for now. Until we get a ship, until we can settle somewhere else without worrying about money... just for now, okay?”

“Okay, but I think we should establish some rules.”

“Agreed.”

The rules were simple: Don’t fuck friends and don’t fuck people the both of you know. Check in regularly regardless if either of you take on a partner, and whoever warms your bed comes second to your relationship. If anything changes, everything needs to be put on hold until a conversation could be held, and always have implants checked and yourselves tested for STDs if going in raw. Unplanned pregnancies or health issues will be dealt with accordingly, together, regardless of the outcome.

It was easy enough, but Din knew he only wanted you. That anyone he bedded would never replace you, and he knew you felt the same way. 

It wasn’t long before you both took on jobs that kept you away from each other for about a month, then two months. Din had been good, not really feeling the need to have a partner. 

But a new rule was added when he got home and found out in those two months you had bedded a partner and his jealousy got the better of him: don’t talk about your partners without being prompted. It wasn’t your fault, you were excited to show Din a new thing you had learned in the bedroom, but his jealousy spoiled the first evening home you two had together in months and he regretted it. The self-loathing alone kept him up all night, "sleeping" on the couch. 

The tension was still there when you both left for your next jobs, and he held onto the guilt when he found a partner himself after being gone again for two months. He made it up to you with the new oral technique his fling had taught him, you not asking where he learned it, but taking the knowledge better than he would've. Better than he had reacted previously.

That’s how you found yourself eight months after the original agreement, four months into your own job with two more months to go, squeezed into a tiny corner of an alleyway in broad daylight with an absolutely gorgeous Mirialan fucking into you like you’re the last lay he’ll have in his lifetime. With only his fly open and your pants pulled down enough for him to get the job done, but otherwise fully clothed.

The man was technically your employer, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. Was it ethical? No, but you couldn't care less. He had hired you on as a bookkeeper for the historic collection he was transporting from one planet's museum to the next in the same galaxy. You had maybe three more planets to hop on your trip, and lately, all you could think of was Din. You were lonely, horny, and wanted your tin can man. But after the first month, and noticing the Mirialan show interest in you, you risked it all to hop into bed with him.

You had just talked to Din that morning, the both of you catching up on your regular weekly calls. A month ago Peli had called with the promise of a ship for cheap. It hadn’t been a Razor Crest like Din had hoped when he went to check it out without you, but it was something. And after a long talk, it was agreed upon that the N1 Starfire was a good enough ship for either of you to use when the other can take a transport ship. 

It would bring in more credits and opportunities, things you couldn’t afford to lose out on. Especially when you were so close to being able to get the fuck off of Jakku and sell your house for something hopefully far better on a planet that wasn't riddled with thieves and scum. And you wouldn’t have to worry about being apart any longer. The After you both craved and wanted. But before you could achieve that, the Mirialan's cock ramming into you reminded you that you’re still in the Before part of that plan.

A shift behind you had Fas’s large cock hit a more vulnerable spot within you and you couldn’t stop the gasp and moan from escaping your lips. Fas put his hand over your mouth, bending both of your knees farther as he fucked up into you relentlessly. You tried your hardest to keep standing, knees weak, but grateful that the Mirialan had one hand on your hip and the other on your left breast. You clung to his arms, the only anchors keeping you from completely collapsing. 

You wished he had bent you over something or let you lean against the wall, but there was something extremely erotic about being fucked standing doggy style and your guts rearranged in a position you couldn’t do with Din due to his height. Not this easily, at least. And especially not standing up. 

Fas groaned himself as your walls tightened around him and you were dunked into an intense orgasm that made your vision go white. As if he felt your body give, Fas wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace as he pistons into you for another minute then grunts, slapping his hips one last time against you as his hot seed filled you. The warm thickness from it triggered a weaker orgasm that you groaned out, grinding back against him, letting the haze of it drift through you. Mirialan's cum, for whatever reason, was far thicker and hotter than a human's cum. You learned that the first time you slept with him, and the shock of it made you go right into a second intense orgasm that had your limbs trembling for half an hour after. 

“Fuck.”

Fas hissed as he pulled out from you and immediately spread your ass cheeks to get a full view of your pussy. His thumb circled your asshole while he patiently waited for the thickness of his species' cum to reach your entrance and threaten to spill out of you. When he sees the hint of white at your entrance, he sighs and tucks himself back into his pants before he pulls your own back up, gently. He kisses your shoulder, patting you on the bottom, then cupping your clothed cunt as if willing his cum to stay inside of you.

“I won’t lie, I’ll miss your humor, skills, and this sweet pussy.” He rubbed the fabric over your mound and your body jolted from overstimulation, his grin only widening upon seeing and feeling your pants gain a new wet spot.

You roll your eyes and turn around to face him, leaning against the wall for support. When you had explained to Fas your arrangement with Din the first month you considered sleeping with him, Fas had been hesitant in a way that made you swoon at how much of a gentleman the man was to everyone. He reluctantly caved and that’s how you ended up fucking like rabbits whenever the chance arose and loneliness hit, whether it was in the showers of the ship or in an Employees Only portion of the museum, or in a brightly lit corner of an alleyway barely hidden by boxes and a sheet.

“I still can’t believe your Mandalorian is okay with this,” he mumbles to himself as he traces the shape of your cheek, unable to hide the yearning he had for you from his blue eyes. You give him a small smile.

“Unless you want your arm broken, I wouldn't tell him you’re one of my hookups.” Your smile widens at his chuckle, thankful you found someone so charming to shackle up with when the itch needed to be scratched. But it just made you long for Din even more. 

“You really miss him, don’t you?”

“Is it that obvious?”

When Fas took your hand, at first you assumed he wanted another round, but instead he slipped a bag of credits into your hand. It was the rest of what you were owed for the next two months. You stared at him in bafflement and it was his turn to grin at you.

“I’ve accidentally overheard a few of your calls with him," he shrugged. "And never not talk about him, regardless if we’re working or fucking.” His words make you blush. “I’ve got the next two planets, you should be with your Mando.”

“Are you sure?” the shock tightened your chest, filling it with concern and excitable yearning. You reached to give the bag back, but Fas just pushed it back towards you.

“I can tell you miss him, and you’ve been a great asset on the team the last four months, but I've got this. I’m twice divorced and I’d give anything to have someone like you in my life. But I know your heart belongs to this mysterious warrior and I can’t find it in me to keep you apart.” He shrugs, sheepishly. “And I'll admit if you stick out your employment I may find it harder and harder to let you go. So it’s best for you to find your way back to your Mando and let a man wish he had found you first before the warrior had.”

You couldn’t help dragging him into a hug, pouring your gratitude into your squeeze. Before he or you could change your mind, you let him go and ran back to the ship you had called home the last few months to collect your things. And before you could blink, you were on the next flight back to Jakku, giddy knowing you’d be surprising your Mandalorian with your presence for the first time in three months.

And that’s how you found yourself walking in on Din balls deep in an absolutely stunning Pantoran. Her indigo skin shone in the dim lighting, head yanked back as Din gripped her lavender hair tightly in his fist. She was still mostly clothed, pants shoved down enough to get the job done, shirt pushed up and bra band down to expose perk breasts that bounced with each hard thrust Din gave her. 

He took her from behind like a wild animal, pressing her into the wall in front of them, the rhythmic wet slaps of their bodies connecting honestly impressive. Din hadn’t noticed you come in, his head thrown back, completely lost in the pleasure the Pantoran’s pussy gave him. The high-pitched breathy noises caught in her throat made you wet and you couldn't help clench your thighs together at the sight and sounds.

Din tilted his head a fraction, barely noticeable to anyone else, and froze mid-thrust when the darkness of his visor lands on you. His head fully snaps in your direction and you could’ve laughed at the image before you: a moment of passion frozen in time like a high-quality porno.

The Pantoran caught her breath and did her best to look in your direction with how tightly Din still held her hair, and you could feel both of their nerves radiating off of them from your presence. It wasn’t like you caught him cheating, this was part of the arrangement, but it also had been a rule to not meet those you slept with while away. But for whatever reason, that broken rule and the scene before you didn’t bother you as much as you thought it would. You could almost sense Din torn on continuing or pulling out of her and ending his affair right then and there, so you made the choice for them.

You closed the door behind you to keep out peeping eyes, despite the fact that you and Din lived on the outskirts of whatever civilization Jakku claimed to have. You let your eyes drag over them hungrily, licking your lips.

“Well, Din? Don’t stop on my account, you promised this pretty thing a good time and I hope you intend to keep that.”

Without breaking eye contact with his visor, you slipped off each clothing item you had as you sultrily sauntered over to the couch, until you were just in your panties. Din’s helmet followed your movements and only stopped when you plopped down on the couch. You widened your legs and placed one foot on the chest you use as a makeshift coffee table to reveal the wet patch forming in your underwear.

“And when you’re done, I want you to fuck me. Understood?”

Din let out a guttural moan, hips involuntarily jerking, causing the Pantoran to moan as well. As if he had never stopped, Din immediately went back to pistoning his hips into her, harder than he had before, causing her to let out a shriek.

You spread your other leg still rooted to the floor, wetting your fingers and dragging them down your body until they land on your clit. Din might be railing this woman three ways to next week, but his helmet was glued to you. He groaned at the sight and reached around to roughly grasp the woman’s breasts, each movement precise and graceful as if he was putting on a show just for you. And maybe he was? The idea of it was hot as is, let alone seeing it unfold.

Din pulled the woman away from the wall and, while still inside of her, guided her to put her hands on the crate you'd been using as an accent table. Din knocked the lamp to the ground, not bothered when it smashed in pieces as it hit the ground. His choice had given you a better view of the show and the woman could now see your own actions. When her honey-glazed eyes rested on you as you fingered your sex, they rolled back in her head as she let out a whine. 

Din’s hips stuttered and he swore, grasping her hips and spreading his legs to slap into her at a different angle.

“Her pussy clenched watching you play with yourself, cyare.” 

“Good. Finish her Din, I’m waiting.”

Din shoved the girl’s feet together and widened his own stance, ramming into her even harder and faster than he had before. Her voice was caught in her throat, tears streaming down her cheeks and she finally came, hard and spazzing on Din’s cock. Her knees gave out and Din gently laid her on the floor, never taking his gaze off of you. When she was fully on the ground and comfortable, Din pointed a gloved finger at you.

“Get on your hands and fucking knees,” he growled in a tone you hadn’t heard before. A voice that made you drip and immediately flip over with your knees on the chest and hands on the couch, looking at him over your shoulder in a sultry manner.

He was behind you before you could blink and shoved his cock into you with urgency, still glistening and pearly white from the Pantoran’s hot pussy. The dirtiness of that fact alone made you groan and clench around him, sweat beading at your brow.

Din immediately jackhammered into you, hands cupping your tits, body curling around yours. He fucked you like a loth cat in heat, shoving himself into you as if he couldn’t be any closer. His dick glided against your walls, the speed causing the heaviness of his balls to slap against your clit with little to no mercy with how he’s putting his full weight into each thrust. The wetness from your own arousal and the Pantoran’s caused a lewd wet slapping sound as his balls found a rhythm against your pussy and the both of your and the Pantoran's slick drenched whatever exposed skin Din had displayed. 

Din muttered filthy words into your ear loud enough for his fling to hear, but only muttered words of love and affection and how happy he was to have you home quietly enough for only you to hear. It was the missing ingredient needed for you to groan and cum, your whole body growing tight then spasming with Din’s continued relentless pace.

The Mandalorian, without stopping, placed one boot on the chest next to your hands and, like the Pantoran, gripped your hair and pulled it tightly as he fucked into you, finding his own high. 

You glanced over your shoulder to find the Pantoran was watching intently, fingering herself, and just like it had been enough for her to orgasm from when you touched yourself, it was all you needed to have one more surprise orgasm that milked one out of Din.

He slammed his hips into yours, grinding into your pelvis, and filled you with spurt after spurt of hot cum with nothing but a satisfied grunt and tight limbs. When he was done, Din sighed and held you to him, flipping you over to sit on his lap on the chest, his cock still nestled in you.

“God, I missed you.”

Din ran his hands over your body, your face, and nuzzled your cheek with his helmet. As much you wanted to melt into his embrace and never let go, you couldn't conveniently forget about the woman he had brought home that was still propped up against your wall.

Din whined as you slipped off of his softening cock and slid on your panties before his spend could drip down your thighs. You pulled on your shirt and reluctantly tugged on your pants as well before wandering into the fresher, wetting a clean washcloth, and coming to the Pantoran’s side. You gently opened her legs and washed away the evidence of her and Din’s affair, then helped her back onto her wobbly feet.

Pulling her pants up the rest of the way and buttoning them for her, you then took her hand and lead her to the front door. She glanced back at Din and awkwardly waved, but he just nodded at her in stoic acknowledgment that made you chuckle. As if he hadn’t just given the poor thing arguably the best lay of her life.

The walk down the path from your home to the road was slow, but not awkward. The Pantoran rang her fingers together, glancing at you shyly as you walked her out.

“Thank you for keeping him company.”

The Pantoran gave you a shy smile, fiddling with her hair. Now that you have better light and aren't distracted by their coupling, you realized the Pantoran was around the same height as you with a similar build and hair length. It was almost like looking at yourself if you hadn’t been born human.

“He and I ran into each other when we both arrived to Jakku. I’m only in town visiting my brother for a few days, and we ran into each other when I was heading home from the cantina. He told me about your arrangement and at first I wasn’t sure if he was just saying that to get into my pants guilt free for the both of us, but figured if Mandalorians are an honorable people, he had to be telling the truth.”

“He was,” you confirmed with a soft smile, grateful that you and Din had both found at least one good person to sleep with that were kind and genuine. It made your heart flutter. “One of our rules was to not meet or talk about our flings, so I'm sorry if I almost ruined that for you. And I’m sorry I didn’t ask for consent before jumping in, I should have. I got caught up in the heat of the moment.” 

You bit your lip when you realized how badly that could have turned out if the Pantoran hadn’t been okay with your choice to stay and watch let alone participate. She stopped in her tracks as you arrived at your property's gate and spun around, eyes wide. 

“Are you kidding me? That was really fucking hot! But I appreciate that sentiment, you’re a good woman. I get why he loves you so much.”

You could feel your face burn, caught off guard with the confession.

“What do you mean?”

The Pantoran sighed wistfully, leaning against the fence and staring off into space. “He talked about you briefly when we first ran into each other at the transport hub, then outside of the cantina, and even before he absolutely fucked my brains out. He wouldn’t stop talking about you. Wouldn't shut up about how much he missed you and even apologized that this couldn’t be anything reoccurring or serious. He just talked about you like he couldn’t stop himself from letting the world know you existed. It’s how I knew he wasn’t sleeping with me to cheat or be disloyal, a man with that much yearning doesn’t talk about his partner like that and then goes behind their backs and cheats on them." She shrugs. “At least I hope not.” She sighs wistfully again. “But you’re so lucky to have a man like that. Does he have a brother?” she joked. 

You laughed, unable to stop the grin from spreading across your face and you leaned against the fence next to her. “Not that I’m aware of, but thank you for telling me that. It’s been really hard being away from him for so long, and knowing he feels that way makes me feel… strangely better about our situation? I guess I was worried that one of us may drift apart or find someone else with how unideal this arrangement has been work-wise.”

The Pantoran put her hand on your shoulder and gave it a friendly squeeze. “Look, I may be just a random hook-up, but even I can tell this only brought you guys closer together. And I’m really happy for the both of you.” She opened the gate and let herself out, closing it behind her. She turned to face you with a grin that matches your own. “Thank you for being a good host, and I am sorry again you walked in on us either way. I’m glad it ended the way it did, it gives me something to look forward to one day knowing that someone out there who can give me the same love and sex you two have is out there waiting for me.”

You shrug and lean closer, your grin turning sultry. “I’m not sure how long we’ll be on Jakku for, but next time you’re in town and we're still around, feel free to give us a knock.” You winked and her indigo skin flushed purple, honey eyes drowned out by the blacks of her blown-out pupils. She gives you a shy smile regardless. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She blew you a kiss and turned on her heels to leave. You watched her walk down the street until you couldn’t see her anymore, the sun setting and casting long shadows. You took a deep breath in, savoring the love blooming in your chest with this newfound knowledge, then turned to return to the love of your life waiting for you on the other side.

You barely had the front door shut and locked before Din was on you, smothering you in his now armorless embrace. He had darkened the room while you were gone and his lips kissed any part of you he could reach while crushing you to his body with the desperation of a man trapped in a desert and had just found an oasis.

You didn’t complain when he stripped the both of you down, swatting your hands away from taking your own clothes off. You didn’t complain when he lead you to your room and made love to you for hours into the night, hours After the Pantoran had left.

Where the raw desperation that had been there earlier was now replaced with deep but slow thrusts and grinding that left you panting and sweating and moaning into his mouth. Din rested his weight on top of you, not leaving an inch of you untouched. His mouth consistently stayed hovering over your mouth and sucked hickies into your skin as if he was afraid you’d disappear again.

In the After, you basked in each other’s presence. Chest to chest, legs entangled, lips grazing, and noses lightly bumping lazily into each other.

“God I missed you so much,” he mumbled into your lips. “I’m sorry you had to come home to that, if I had known-“

You kissed him and he sighed, leaning into the action. You pulled away and pecked his nose. “Don’t, I wanted to surprise you. Fas realized how much I missed you and gave me the rest of my pay. Told me to go home.”

Din paused at this and abruptly sat up. Even in the darkness, you could tell he was looking at you.

“Are you serious?” his shocked excitement made you grin. “Runi, that’s fantastic! I’m so proud of you, that was really generous of him.” Din’s hand found your stomach and gave it a gentle rub, thick fingers grazing the underside of your breasts. 

Despite the happiness in his tone, you could sense hesitation in the slight tremble of his fingers. You placed your hands on top of his, your own digits rubbing into his skin.

“Din, what’s wrong?”

You allowed the silence to linger, content with the feeling of his skin on yours. Finally, he laid back down and draped his arm over your waist, nuzzling his face back into the crook of your neck.

“The bounty ended up being worth way more than was promised alive. The man who put the bounty on the quarry hadn’t expected him in any way other than dead.”

You furrowed your brows, not sure where this was going. “Din, isn’t that a good thing?”

Din took a deep breath and exhaled your name. “It means not only can we sell the house, but we can go elsewhere and not worry about money. At least not for a little while.”

You opened your mouth, a million questions running through your mind. But Din propped himself up on his other arm and cradled your face, his touch distracting you.

“Cyar’ika, you deserve better than Jakku. If you’re okay with it, I was thinking we could settle on Nevarro. Karga and Cara have turned it into a paradise since we last visited, wee wouldn’t have to worry about either of us needing to sleep with a blaster under our pillows or wonder if someone will steal our things while we're away on a job.” 

Din swallowed, hands trembling. “We’d have the protection of the Guild right in town and be able to afford a nice place. I could work nearby with Karga which doesn’t require me to be away for more than a few hours most at a time, maybe a week if something is needed off planet. A house on Nevarro means we might not be able to get a ship just yet, but I figured it was a start. More credits, less time away from each other, and we'd be surrounded by people who we can trust. People we call friends. What do you think?”

Your shocked silence filled the room but it wasn’t long before you flew into Din’s arms like he had before and he held you close, nose buried in your neck. 

“When can we move?”

Din chuckled, rubbing your back. “In a month? Is that okay? We still need to find a place and transfer everything over. One of us will need to fly the N1, but I’m sure Cara or Karga can give the other a lift to Nevarro.”

“What, you have a problem with public transport, Mr. Djarin??” He laughed and pinched your hip. 

“No, but why make one of us wait to be together any longer than we have to?”

You rested your chin on his shoulder, his body a furnace, but a welcome heat despite the scorching warmth the planet radiated being suffocating as is.

“And our arrangement?” you whispered, unsure of where that would stand. You felt Din sigh.

“Honestly, as much as it had its moments of being fun, I just want you. You’re the person I want to take home, the person I want to wake up to, the person whose body I want to get lost in. I know Nevarro may not offer long-term jobs to keep you as close as I’d like, and until we get a proper ship, I’m aware you may still need to travel to bring in credits. So I’m okay if you need to scratch any itch you get while you’re gone, but once we settle in on Nevarro, I was hoping we could go back to it just being us. Like before. But I understand if it’s not what you want.”

“Din, like you said, as much as this has been fun, you’re all I want. I appreciate you wanting me to be fulfilled in every way possible if you can't do it yourself, so I’ll need to think about it. But I’m absolutely okay with things going back to just us when we're ready.”

You pulled away reluctantly, his grip tight around you but gave you enough room to cup his face in your hands.

“I love you, Din Djarin. And no matter what the universe throws at us, I’ll always find my way home to you. I hope you know that.” The deep kiss he pulled you into told you he felt the same, and the hardness of his cock pocking your thigh solidified that fact.

Before there was Grogu, there was you. And After Grogu, here is where you’ll be. 

After you sell the house on Jakku and make the move, things do fall into place just like the jobs you once had in the years you’ve known the Mandalorian. Din was given a well-paying job along Karga’s side that didn’t require him to hunt down bounties across the galaxy. And not once has he had to step on a public transport since.

After a few more months of accepting jobs that took you away from home for a few weeks at a time, you settled in yourself with a job at the local school as a language teacher. The house you bought with Din was bigger than anything you thought you’d ever be able to own, yet despite its size, it was still humble and homey. A place one could maybe grow a family one day.

When Din got the emergency message from Boba needing his help on Tattooine, you didn’t think twice and encouraged him to go. After all, you were here in the Before, and you’ll be here in the After, no matter what the universe throws at you. 

AUTHOR'S NOTE

I had come up with this idea a while back ago that was partially inspired by @thestrangestinthisstrangeland 's really hot fic "Can You Kiss Me More" and the destain I have for the lack of F/F/M fics in the Mando fandom. Or healthy portrayals of open relationships. Had to fix that fact.

I also came up with this fic to explore open relationships more. I consider myself to be queer leaning on the ace side, like not sex repulsed or anything, but the idea of having one partner is more than enough and the idea of dating overwhelms me. So I've been fascinated with how people can have open relationships or be in poly relationships with ease. It's really admirable.

The Mando fandom made me realize I may be a little bit of the jealous type and the idea of my partner sleeping with other people while I'm gone bothers me a little. But I think being able to write how Din and the reader both feel for each other is what helped me understand that my insecurity comes from not wanting to be cast aside for someone better. I don't think people realize how much trust goes into making open relationships and poly relationships work, and writing this fic made me appreciate that fact even more.

If you're polyamorous or in an open relationship and find this to not portray either or appropriately, please do let me know and I'll do my best to be as inclusive and correct as possible! All are welcome here and I want everyone to be able to feel at home in the reader inserts I've made available to them!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Shooting Stars Dividers

Please like and reblog if you use or save.

Requested by @katonshoko​

Dividers List

ONESHOTS:

SERIES:

On a Hot, Hot Day and a Cold, Cold Night

The Before and After

Kinktober 2022

SERIES:

Where the Sky Met the Sea Masterlist

On a Cold, Cold Night

Pre-Season 1 Din Djarin x Reader

Rating: T

Warnings: brief severe broken bone and wound description, otherwise mostly fluff

Word Count: 4,735

Summary: On a planet with the looming threat of a blizzard rolling in, an abandoned cabin and quarry on the verge of death has Din making choices he thought he'd never have to make in his profession.

On a cold, cold night, the Mandalorian waded in thick snow, guided on his journey with just the sensors in his helmet and the full moon lingering above him in the night sky. The wind whipped at his armor, tugging at his cowl, and screamed at him to turn back. But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

If it hadn’t been for the odd shape highlighted in the moonlight, Din would never have been able to spot the cabin amongst the backdrop of trees and snow, even with the sensors in his helmet.

He had been relying on tips and hushed whispers to find his latest bounty, and if it hadn’t been for the continuous cold, Din may have even enjoyed this hunt. But snow whipped at his beskar as he trudged through thigh-high snow, its icy hands no match for the brute strength harbored underneath all the metal and padding.

Din stopped and scanned his surroundings, but no heat signature could be picked up from the white hills and trees that tower over him. A perfect place to hide out and snipe if one had the skill to, but as far as he could tell, he was alone. And he wasn’t sure what to make of that just yet.

He continued forward, the snow straining his already tired muscles. As the cabin grew nearer, the tracking fob on his belt began to blink faster and faster, its annoying beeping a comforting sound of relief, knowing that this job will soon be over.

But as he grew closer, he couldn’t help but feel as though something was… off. The cabin itself was old and decaying, a structure that has undoubtedly housed generations far before Din was ever born. No light peeked through broken windows and no sound nor movement could be detected with the naked eye.

Din paused again and amped up the sensitivity of his heat sensor mode and eyed the cabin. It was faint, and he nearly missed it, but he found a trace of a heat signature unmoving within the structure’s walls. He waited, so still, he could’ve been mistaken for a tree. But the body his helmet picked up didn’t move for the five minutes he observed.

Something was definitely wrong.

This bounty was supposed to be a considerable threat, from what Din recalled of his puck and the information Karga gave him. Another runaway wanted by their father, a deadly stray who had taken out plenty of bounty hunters before Karga practically begged Din to take the job. It was a pity the father wanted his kid alive, the job would’ve been so much easier if he could’ve dragged a dead body back between the snow and cold.

The criminal in question hadn’t come with a photo, nor gender, just their age and some basic information that was enough for Din to go off of. They had planet hopped for the past year before disappearing, and his search led him to the very cabin he now stood before.

Din hesitated, but the blinking light and sound of the fob were adamant that his quarry was indeed inside. He let out a sigh, trying to peer in through the darkness of the cabin before caving and trying the door.

To his surprise, it opened rather easily. He waited for the inevitable, the sound of a blaster going off, the blinding flash, the pressure as the plasma bounced off his armor and destroying whatever is unfortunately in its path. Instead, he was met with a deafening silence and contrasted darkness caused by the moonlight pouring through the window.

Din took a step and the wooden floors creaked and gave a little underneath his weight. He waited, but still was only met with silence and darkness. He closed the door behind him and blended into the shadows, eyes flicking over whatever was exposed by the light of the moon.

He could faintly make out furniture within the one-room home. A table with two chairs appeared to be pushed up against one wall next to a window where the moon can be seen through the ice-tinted glass. The circular rug laid at his feet took up most of the living space, disheveled and faded with time and love.

The rest was too dark to see, and he immediately tapped his helmet for his night vision feature. The cabin really was modest, but his eyes were immediately drawn to a figure lying in the cabin’s only double bed.

He could see the scratch marks his quarry had made pushing the bed closer to what Din can now see is a fireplace. Darkened wood and soot have stained the firebox, but the last fire it held had snuffed out a long time ago.

Despite being inside and no longer assaulted by the cold, brutal winds; Din could still feel just how chilled the cabin was regardless. The air lightly whistled through the cracks and broken pieces of the windows that should have been boarded up long before the storm ever touched down.

For once, Din felt a tad out of his element. He was used to violence, fighting, a struggle, begging, or bribery. Not silence, not darkness, and not a barely warm but still alive body laying on a bed as if they were a gift from the maker Himself for Din to easily snag and be on his way. Din considered calling out to his target, to ensure it was even them, but his voice got stuck in his throat. And the now fully lit up fob on his belt told him his hunch was correct, regardless of the silence and lack of facial features to identify the quarry.

After hesitating, Din finally found the nerve to quietly make his way over to the body on the bed.

His target was hidden underneath layers of musky, old, moth-eaten blankets. The top of their head poked out from underneath, but everything else was tucked away from sight. With more caution than he was used to, Din slowly peeled the blankets back and gently nudged the body from facing opposite him to laying on their back.

Din flinched. He knew his quarry’s age, but he was still surprised to find that the child he was after was a grown woman a lot older than he was made to believe, and also at how fragile she looked. She barely had the energy to shiver from the lack of warmth, limbs stiff as if in rigor mortis.

The girl was ashen, lips a grayish-blue, and her clothes were stiff as if glued to her from the cold. Din sucked in air, looking her over, wondering if she was even worth the credits to bring back. It had taken him, a healthy human male, hours to trek through the snow to find her from the nearest village. In this state, would she even make the trip alive?

Would she even survive overall?

Fists clenching and unclenching as he overlooked the girl, he monitored how shallow her breathing was. Din sighed and knew he was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t. Out of caution, he took a photo of the girl just in case his next actions resulted in failure.

He tucked the quarry back into her blankets and sifted through the room until he found tools, rusted, but still in rather good shape. The sparseness of the cabin was infuriating, and he ended up needing to break the table down to use the flat parts to board up the windows.

He swore the whole time he was outside, fighting with the brutal winds and the cold to nail each piece of wood until he couldn’t see the glass anymore. It meant the cabin was even darker when he returned, but he doubted his sleeping companion cared all that much at the moment.

Din grabbed the remaining pieces of the table and snapped them into smaller fragments, each leg was broken in threes and placed them in the fireplace. Adding some dried unused paper he found in a chest near the bed, he used his flame thrower to ignite the kindling and the fire in the hearth roared to life, strong and resilliant. Din allowed himself to breathe and enjoy the warmth the fire brought as he kneeled in front of it.

The cabin, although still cold, was much more comfortable than when he first arrived. Din had turned his fob off and placed it in his pack and unhooked his cape to dry off on a hat rack nailed into the wall.

Din glanced over at the girl, but not much has changed. Once he felt warm enough himself, he stood and checked on the girl. Her breathing was less shallow and the sensors in his helmet told him she was starting to grow warmer, but it may be a day or two before he can get her to a healthy enough state to drag her back to the Crest where he can treat her properly before throwing her into carbonite.

With nothing to do other than wait, Din dragged a chair close to the quarry’s bed and sat, arms crossed, gazing into the fire.

The cold jolted him out of a sleep he didn’t remember falling into, his body slightly trembling. Din wasn’t sure how long he had been out for, but it must have been for a few hours. His body trembled and Din squinted into the cabin, confused, until he realized the fire had started to die out.

Din swore under his breath and took the poker next to the fireplace and stabbed at the kindling. The fire breathed to life before it weakened, threatening to snuff out again. Din frantically tore through the cabin and picked up any books and loose paper he could use as kindling.

The fire accepted Din’s offerings happily, jumping back to life as it washed the room in hues of oranges. Din sighed, shoulders tense, eyeing the fire as if he didn’t trust the thing to keep going. Outside, the wind rattled his makeshift blinds, and the cabin groaned under the pressure of a storm he hadn't known was coming when he had come to fetch the quarry.

With the panic of the fire now gone, a new panic crept up on Din. He quickly stands and tugs the blanket back to look over his girl and sucked air through his teeth, seeing just how worse off she looked.

Just like the fire, sometime in the hours of his sleep, she had changed positions, her front facing the fire as if trying to get warm. But unlike how he found her before, the quarry’s glazed eyes were open and gazing at him from beneath hooded lids, barely lucid.

The quarry licked her chapped lips in vain, the small smile pulled at the cracks in her lips, causing the crevices to start to bleed. But the cold made the blood move more like tar than life’s vital liquid, and Din couldn’t help but flinch at the sight.

“I should’ve known death would come for me in the form of a Mandalorian.”

She weakly lifted a shaky arm as if to reach out to him, but the limb immediately fell limp and her eyes rolled back into her skull. Din swore and ripped off his gloves, forcing her to look at him but her eyes remained shut.

“Hey, girl, I need you to stay awake. Can you hear me?”

He swore when he realized how icy her skin felt under his fingers. She felt like a marble statue, and for the first time since he took this bounty, Din began to seriously panic.

Din pushed down the blankets once more to really take the girl in. It couldn’t be just the cold making her this weak this fast. Din honestly was angry at himself for not realizing that the arm she hadn’t used, the one that she had cradled close to her body since he first found her, was broken. Even through the makeshift bandage job, Din could tell the way she tried to set it hadn’t been good enough and most likely had been done in haste between the storm approaching and perhaps a hunt gone wrong.

Din emptied out his own pack, found his med kit, and immediately arranged a bacta needle and the tools he needed to properly set the bone. He gently peeled the fabric from her arm and hissed at the wound that awaited him.

The skin was rotting around the opened juncture of the wound, and he could see a small flash of white where her bone was. Luckily for her, it was a clean break, but unluckily for her, she may lose the arm if his medical skills and the bacta don’t cut it.

Din rummaged through the small kitchen’s cabinets, pleased to find some canned foods and dried meats that could hold them over for at least a week, and took out a big pot and plopped it in the sink. He used his flamethrower on the spout and prayed to whatever god was out there that it would warm the pipes enough to get some water for him to clean the wound before giving the girl proper medical care. He sighed with his whole body when the pipe managed to spit out enough water for him to put in the pot and for him to clean a piece of cloth and his hands before freezing over again.

Bringing the pot over, he waited until the water was still warm enough to be pleasing, but not enough to scald. Din held his breath and gently apologized as he quickly re-set her arm properly, and she flinched hard enough for Din to need to hold her down so as to not re-injure herself.

After setting the arm in a make-shift splint made up of remaining wood and cloth from his cowl, he took the other now clean cloth and dabbed it into the water and gently patted it around the wound. The woman jolted and let out a long, hollow moan that made Din’s skin erupt in goosebumps that weren’t from the cold.

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts, but it’ll be over soon. I promise.”

He’s not entirely sure why he’s trying to soothe her, Din doubts she could even hear him, but it made him feel less…useless as he cleaned the wound the best he could and redressed it with bandages from his med kit. He considered the catalyzer, but between the cold and any infection, he feared that would be the last shock her body needed to completely give out.

Din pulled away and watched her shiver, tears streaking down her face. He tucked the blankets back around her with care, bare fingers brushing hair out of her face with a gentleness Din didn’t even know he was capable of having. The girl was beautiful in her own right, and perhaps in other life, he would have pursued her for different reasons. 

Between keeping the fire going, ignoring the wind's howls, and the adrenaline still buzzing in his ears; Din couldn’t get back to sleep even if he wanted to. He sighed and got up, stretching, feeling his back pop. He put his items away and began to clean up the mess he made in a panic. Din paused when he came to the spilled contents of what appeared to be his quarry’s bag. He wasn’t sure how he missed it in his haste to keep the cabin shut tight, warm, and clean, but it now splayed itself in front of him as if beckoning for him to open it.

Aside from enough credits to last another six months, a toiletry bag, a med kit with expired medicines, an old-fashioned camera, and a handful of clothes; Din couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary. But while shoving the items that spilled out back into the bag, he felt something bulky partly sticking out from inside of the bag’s walls.

Din brushed his fingers along the outline until he found the opening of a secret pouch. He dipped his fingers into the secret compartment and pulled out a small but thick book. The traditional material nearly threw Din off in and of itself, but when he flipped it open, he was even more shocked to find it wasn’t a book: it was a combination photo album and journal.

He wasn’t sure what possessed him to read the entries or even look at the photos, but Din felt a pull that he couldn’t quite shake, even if he felt slightly wrong for peeping into someone’s clearly private catalog. Why would a wanted criminal take the time and energy to capture photos, print them, glue them into a book, and write within its columns? Why couldn’t a data pad suffice? He knew the risk a digital journal could have, but it still felt like so much effort to make a physical book that he knew it wasn't about this being made out of safety, but rather love and passion.

The book’s binding and paper told Din it was handmade, and very well loved. He flipped through random pages, eyes moving over pictures of painted skies and clear oceans and lush forests. Some photos were selfies of the quarry, handheld, others looked like the photo had been perched on a rock or taken by a local of the area. There were a few photos here and there of what looked to be local lovers you might've picked up on your travels, and he tried not to stare too long at any selfies of you kissing a stranger or a point of view shot of them holding your hand from behind. He didn't know why jealousy briefly flashed in his heart, but it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. 

Din settled back into his chair, unable to look away. The quarry wrote of each of the places she visited with such love and devotion, and each passage was written in letter format, always starting with “Dear Dad,” and ending with her name and hearts drawn around her signature.

Brow furrowed, Din flipped the book back to the first page and really took a look at the photos within the first few pages. The photos were older, more bent and wrinkled, and featured a much younger version of the woman fighting death in the bed mere feet away. Sometimes she was alone, other times she posed with a woman much older than her, other times it was with an older man, a few times all three of them.

The quarry didn’t exactly look like the older couple, but there was love there. The way the man looked at the woman with such deep affection it made Din’s heart ache, remembering the way his own father looked at his mother before the war. The woman was beautiful, with laugh lines and wild hair tied up with a rag. Who were these people?

Din stared at the photo of the man in the photo, finger absently running over the image. The man in the photo and the man who hired him to bring his daughter home were two very different men. In coloring, in age, in kindness.

The man who hired him didn’t have an ounce of the love and gentleness in his face and words that Din could feel that the man in the photo had for his partner and daughter, regardless if the quarry was his by blood or not. Din couldn’t deny the love only a father could give to his child. The love didn't speak, but rather screamed at him from every photo as he turned each page and saw the quarry’s backstory come to life.

A pained groan had Din snapping the book shut with the same guilt and sheepishness of a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar would have. He blinked over at his quarry and stood abruptly, dropping her journal. When had she started to shake so violently?

Din was at her side in a split second and found himself holding her good hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. Her eyes were half open and glazed, blankly searching the ceiling as if trying to find an answer to unspoken questions within the wooden beams.

Her hands were icy to the touch, brow damp with sweat, clothes and hair clinging to her head and figure and shaking uncontrollably. Din swore and didn’t think twice to unclasp his armor and slipped off his boots. He slid into the bed and immediately held her to him, his larger frame enfulfing her in his embrace.

The quarry unconsciously clung to him, shaking so violently it made Din’s teeth clink together in his own mouth. But he held strong, rubbing soothing circles into her back and pulling the pile of blankets tighter around them, ensuring her back was to the fire.

After what felt like hours, the quarry slowly stopped shaking and settled into his arms. Din glanced down at her to find her face was relaxed, although flushed, and still damp with sweat. Her breathing mellowed and, for the first time since he found her, she looked to be at ease.

Din gave her a few hours, dozing with her in his arms, and rubbed her back absent mindedly with one hand. When he finally found the will to move, he pulled away from her and checked on her wounds, pleased to find the break and gash were healing nicely thanks to modern medicine.

For the next three days, when Din wasn’t holding her to him in bed and either reciting stories from his childhood or humming to her, he changed her bandages and washed the sweat from her face. When she was lucid enough, he fed her whatever he could find in the cabin, and when she had the energy, he helped her relieve herself in the cabin’s tiny bathroom before tucking her back into bed where she’d promptly pass out.

In those three days, when Din wasn’t taking care of her, he found himself drawn back to her photo album journal, flipping from one page to the next until he felt like he had memorized every detail there was to absorb.

And in those three days, Din knew he had to make a hard decision. One that would either lead a girl back to a jailer (or worse), or one where he would have to risk finding his way back to the guild with barely enough fuel and food but not enough credits to feed himself or refuel when he gets there. He loathed to think he’d have to borrow money from the covert’s savings, or deal with Karga’s smug smile knowing he had a Mandalorian in his debt.

On the fourth day, the storm let up and Din could see the sun shining through the cracks of the boarded-up windows. He glanced at the quarry and knew she was well enough by now. He could drag her through the remaining snow back to the Crest without the worry of infection or frostbite, and he could be in hyperspace by noon the next day.

All he had to do was move.

You weren’t sure how long you had been out for, but your body felt like it had been hit by a heard of banthas. Your muscles strained with the slightest movement and you couldn’t stop the pained moan from leaving your lips even if you wanted to.

When you found the energy to open your eyes, you had to squint to make out the cabin thanks to the sun shining through the cracks of the cabin. When had you boarded up the windows? It had been on your list of things to do before the storm hit, yet you had no memory of getting the chore done.

With another groan you slowly sat up, your body feeling tense yet weak at the same time. A fire burned as weakly as you felt in the fireplace, keeping the extreme cold out while still keeping the cabin on the chilly side, and you had to wonder yet again when you had found the time to make the fire in the first place.

Memories of days before came crashing down on you, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut at the intense headache that threatened to split your brain apart so suddenly.

You remembered going out to gather wood. A deer had startled you and you had tripped on a branch and tumbled down a steep hill, breaking your arm. Your arm!

You pulled your sleeve up to find the arm had been lovingly bandaged at some point, the bone back in its rightful place. Outside of a dull ache, you weren’t in any pain. You poked at the bandage and hissed, but your actions didn’t cause blood to leak to the surface and stain the bandaging. You didn’t remember dressing this, either.

You remember dragging yourself back to the cabin, hours later after getting yourself lost between the cold, the adrenaline rush, and the pain from the break. You remember desperately trying to get warm after being out in the snow for hours, finding your way back into bed after collecting every blanket the cabin had…

A Mandalorian.

You remembered the ghostly image of a Mandalorian standing above you, and your brain convinced you that it was the personification of Death coming to guide you home after so long. You remember gentle hands and kind whispers, vaguely, like a faded childhood memory. There, but not quite.

You glanced around the cabin to find that you were alone. You swung your feet over the edge of the bed and listened, waiting. But no one was inside the cabin with you, or outside, perhaps no one for miles as you had originally planned. Had the Mandalorian been a fever dream? You glanced back down at your makeshift cast and knew that you couldn’t have hallucinated him, there’s enough evidence to tell you that much for certain.

A beep caught your attention and on the nearby dresser was a fob and a small holo-pad you had never seen before. You weakly rose to your feet and stumbled over to the dresser, leaned your good arm against it, and squinted down at the devices.

The tracking fob was either dead or just not picking up on your DNA, and tapping it made the screen light up but your bounty headshot didn’t come up. You glanced down at the round holo-pad communicator, the piece of technology small enough to fit in your hand and had clearly seen better days.

The holo-pad blinked with a message from a com link you didn’t recognize. Your fingers lingered over the button to receive the message, shaking with hesitance. Before you could lose your nerve, you tapped the button and pulled your arm back as if it were being pursued by a wild animal.

You gasped and sucked in air, eyes zoning in on the image in the hologram. Anxious eyes scan the document, wondering if your tired eyes misread what was in front of you, if maybe you’re hallucinating the whole thing.

But there in front of you was a picture of yourself, much younger, grinning back at you. It had been a time when things were simpler and when your adopted parents were still alive and well. Before…before…

Your name was printed in bold letters, and right under it: DECEASED; followed by a half-assed obituary you knew had been from your owner. It lacked significant details about your life but put on enough of a show for those reading it who didn’t know you or your situation to believe the man who wrote it truly cared.

It was strange, seeing your own eulogy, gazing into eyes that were once yours so long ago. You thought of the ghost of the Mandalorian that had been there clearly to collect your bounty but had a change of heart. Did he figure out who his employer was? Did your well-being make him change his mind?

You had a million questions racing through your head as fast as your heartbeat within your chest. But amidst those buzzing questions, one statement made its presence known that made your knees weak and shoulders sag with relief, eyes tearing up:

You’re finally free.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

This was the first fanfic I've written in probably 10 years. Honestly, the Mando fandom alone has some of the most beautiful writers I've ever come across and it genuinely inspired me to come out of retirement. I had a falling out with a friend in a fandom I was once in over a decade ago and it was too painful to write. But now that I've healed and moved on and found love and inspiration in the Mando fandom and reignited my love for Star Wars in general, I'm ready to jump back into it.

I have a few spicy ideas and a few spicy/sweet chapter story ideas as well. I'm hoping once things even out at work I can create a writing schedule for future works whether it's a one-shot or chapter story to have something to look forward to outside of my career goals and advancements. It really means a lot you read this and I hope to see you again on my journey back into writing! ❤️ I may create a tumblr for my fics, still deciding, I don't quite understand Tumblr cause I'm #old but I'm willing to give it a try if it means making friends in the fandom and sharing my work!

Also, this was my first time using this site in a decade, and lemme tell you I am so proud of myself for figuring out how to tag and create bookmarks and even the page breaks. If you have any advice on how to best navigate this site as a writer, please do let me know I'd love to hear it!

Storm Dividers

Requested by @morganlefaye13​

Please like and reblog if you use or save.

Dividers List

Howdy, I'm new here!

So that means I have no idea what the fuck I'm doing cause I'm #old but I'll figure this site out eventually. In the meantime, hi! I'm coming out of fanfiction retirement mostly in the Star Wars community for now, specifically for the Mandalorian. I've only written two fics so far but once I get cozy in my new home and figure out this and the app, I'm excited to hype up other writers and space dad fans!

-Billie