#beautiful bounty hunter

[e-johnsen]

@rollwdifficulty

Season 4 has been spectacular so far, but it has had some developments I am less than pleased with. CressidaxRoy was cute enough as a ship I suppose, but recent episodes have left me spiraling.

Hope everyone enjoys their mid season break. I will be nursing my broken heart.

Woe. 💔

[otias421]

Beautiful bounty hunter

[68spidey]

Been playing SWTOR and forgot how much I liked Mako.

I played my Mandalorian Korvan as a bloodthirsty bounty hunter but throughout the game, I realized I was making way more Light side choices because I knew that's what Mako would want. So now he's terrified of ever beeing seen without his helmet because then she'll see Him and he's terrified of being perceived and revealing that he was ugly all along (on the inside). It was his safety blanket.

.. Luckily for him, Mako knows him better than that.

BONUS CAT PROPOGANDA LMFAO

[aidigitalfun]

I’ve got some work to do.

[draculasfavoritewife]

Din Djarin x Reader Headcanons Pt. 2

Summary: You and the Mandalorian become something more than merely hunting partners.

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Warnings: Me waxing ridiculously poetic about him. Implied smut towards the end.

Here it is! Part 2 of my Mando headcanons! Hope everyone enjoys the payoff! So sorry it's so long -- I sure had fun writing these :) Din Djarin is pretty much perfect, and anyone who thinks otherwise just hasn't seen enough of him.

*Translations of words/phrases in Mando'a at the end

A couple of weeks go by after the shower, and you avoid each other except when necessary, as if by an unspoken agreement

Din just needs the time to sort all his thoughts and feelings out, as he's suddenly questioning everything

So he comes off as more brusque and distant than usual, which is really saying something

You can see the turmoil seething underneath though, so you give him space and just hope his final conclusion isn't that he needs to be alone again

It ends up being the opposite

After a particularly deadly hunt in which you were both confronted with the very real possibility of the other one dying, you retreat to your makeshift quarters in the hope of sleeping off some of the distress that's still eating at you from the inside out

You don't hear his approach, since he's stripped off most of his beskar besides the helmet

But when you look up, he's looming sullenly over your bunk

You stubbornly stay silent, waiting for him to make the first move

"I can't...lose you"

He can't believe he's said those words so plainly, but there they are, hanging in the cold air between you

You find you can't speak or the tears might finally fall, so instead you cling to him, shoving your head into his shoulder and letting your fingers dig through his dark undershirt into his back

His answering embrace is crushing, and you remember just how deeply attached this man can become to another being

"Don't leave me, Din Djarin," you whisper "I love you"

He's quiet for a long moment, but this time you don't doubt him, you know he has a much more difficult time with intimacy than you do

"Cyar'ika" is what he finally chooses to hum, and that single word means more than any poetic verse or lengthy admission

"Stay with me tonight," you request softly as you finally pull back from his strong arms "rest with me in the darkness, let me hold you"

And he actually does

You can't really see him in the blackness, but your light mattress dips dramatically to his weight as he joins you, and you eagerly pull him to you as you both settle

Dank farrik, he's so warm as he lets you curl into his now bare torso -- you may never let this man sleep without you again

Perhaps it's because you both could've been killed today, but he exhibits none of his usual hesitancy as you burrow closer to him, his arms folding around you and skin meeting skin

This may just be the most relaxed you've ever experienced him

He's surprised you remember a few of his scars from that time you two showered together, and if they're ones he recalls, he tells you a few stories of how they came to decorate his body

You can't get enough of the way his voice growls deep in his chest against you, without all that armor in between

Although you know that it will be a long time before you ever get to truly see his face, you learn a few things about him, there in the dark, and it helps you imagine him a little better

You like the way his scruffy stubble scrapes against your cheek when he leans over to murmur in your ear; you hadn't expected him to be unshaven but you find the idea suits him

His hair is glorious, thick and slightly curling where it's longer, a tantalizing blend of silky soft and coarser strands, and after the way he stiffened the first time your hands strayed into it, he actually seems to enjoy the sensation of your fingers brushing through it

He talks to you more on this sightless, bare night than he has in probably your entire partnership so far

He lapses into his native tongue as sleep starts to overtake both of you, and even though you're rusty and don't understand all of the phrases, you're completely his as soon as you first feel the sensation of his full lips forming words against your shoulder and the back of your neck

The two of you rapidly become much closer after that night

It's not unusual for your hands to linger on each other when you're repairing the ship or during other quiet activities while you're alone

Though when on the hunt, you two maintain a very professional civility and not much else

He's become much more fiercely protective of you, though he'd deny it, but you see and it makes you smile

Shared showers become more commonplace, and he shares your bed on the nights you ask him to

But he's always long gone by the time you wake up

Mando'a is coming back to you the longer you stay with him, and sometimes the two of you converse entirely in that tongue for days

Your first kiss takes you by complete surprise, and he hadn't planned on it either

It was after a successful hunt in which you'd pulled an admittedly stupid stunt to come out on top, and no matter the fact that you were relatively unscathed, this man is angrier than a rancor that you would put yourself at risk like that for a few extra credits

You are his now, after all, and he's nothing if not ridiculously protective of what's his

"I never want to see you do something like that again" he seethes, and though he doesn't raise his voice you can hear the fury roiling underneath

"Stop fretting over it, Din, I'm here, aren't I? Nothing happened"

You hear the grating exhale beneath his helmet, too many emotions he's not familiar with surging to the surface from where he's bottled them up, but all he knows is that if you won't let his words pierce your thick skull, he'll have to show you what you mean to him

You can't keep back a yelp of shock as the lights go out

There's a click and a clang as he rips his helmet off, probably the most carelessly he's ever done it

And before you can process a thing he's nearly on top of you, and his lips are devouring yours, and kriff you never thought kissing him would taste so good

When he finally releases you so you can breathe again, his forehead is resting against yours, the Keldabe gesture you only faintly remember receiving from your buir, and it makes your heart ache to feel it from him

"Now" he huffs "I won't be seeing another stunt that foolhardy from you again, do I make myself clear?"

"Understood, Cyare"

He doesn't let you out of his grasp throughout the night

It takes a long time to eventually achieve further intimacy beyond a kiss, though you know he's thought about it, and you definitely do

Perhaps unsurprisingly, he's the one dragging his feet -- you've wanted this for a long time now -- but you didn't expect his reasoning for being reluctant

"How can you want us to share something so personal, when THIS is such a problem?"

You are completely lost when he vaguely gestures at his head, it takes a minute to process he means the fact that you haven't seen his face

"Din," you start, reaching up to trail a caress down the side of his visor to his breastplate "What if I were blind? Would you think my love for you less if I couldn't see you at all?"

That makes him think

"I know you, I've seen you at your best and your worst; I've slept beside you and learned all your scars with my fingers; but more than that, I see you here"

You place your hand over his heart, which you know from experience has most likely quickened at your gentle touch

"I love you, and if ever I am privileged to see your face I will only love you more, but I will not know you more, for I know you already"

"You are mine, Din Djarin, and you are mesh'la"

He can say nothing for a moment, too overwhelmed by your words and the fact that you respect him and his creed so deeply

It takes another few days of him turning it all over in his head -- though he's very good at making snap decisions, this is one that requires more consideration

He's quiet, and more efficient than ever during your next hunt, if that's even possible, and you can tell by his sharp movements that he's on edge

When you return to the ship, he gently but purposefully guides you to his quarters, a place you've hardly stepped foot inside for the entire time you've been here, and your heart starts beating erratically with anticipation

"Do you still want this?" he asks

"More than anything"

The darkness swallows you both in its welcoming embrace

Your Mandalorian is the lover you've always dreamed of; he can be gentle -- so soft with you it's maddening -- or rough enough to make you plead for more

He tells you in undertones just how highly he thinks of you, all the things he's always too stoic to say out loud, but your love seems to have finally loosened that stubborn tongue of his and you bask in it

You sleep that night in his bed, for the first time of many

And he's still there when you wake, as warm and solid as ever, one arm thrown around your body and his other hand twined in your hair, your foreheads pressed together, and dank farrik you love this man so fiercely you know you would kill or die for him

"Welcome back," he teases as he feels you shift against his body "You were out cold"

"And whose fault is that, Djarin?" you kiss him softly "I didn't think you'd still be here"

"I wanted to watch you wake up for once"

You smile and sink back into his hold, since he seems for once in no hurry to move his day forward

"Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, Din"

He brings your hands up to play with his hair, and makes a pleased sound deep in his throat when you pull a little -- who would have thought he would like that?

"Let's do this again sometime?" you hum

His chuckle, barely audible, thrums into your ribcage where his chest presses against yours

And his kiss, coupled with the reverent fingertips drawing heated trails up your spine, gives his reply more eloquently than words ever could

Eventually, life does remind you both that it stops for no one, and you rise to return to the more familiar routine of a pair of bounty hunters on the run

But, as it turns out, your Mandalorian makes an excellent NON-platonic shower partner as well -- the poor 'fresher wasn't ready for that much steam ;)

Cyar'ika = Sweetheart

Cyare = Beloved

Mesh'la = Beautiful

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum = I love you; I will know you forever

[autisticauthorxyz]

WIP: Radioactive Love

Revenge Fantasy drama

Art by durkknesss https://www.instagram.com/durkknesss?igsh=MW92bXhvZHFjdGJtcg==

[pussinbootsandbountyhunter]

Is My Story Kinda Based/Inspired on Beauty and the Beast?

I just find out that Anime Belle is actually inspired by Beauty and the Beast both 1756 and 1991

So, I was wondering if my au story of Puss in Boots and the Bounty Hunter’s Secret is based/inspired by these two films?

I mean, are Puss and Death had similar moments in my story for these four characters of beauty and the beast tale as old as time?

Because I think it is… or am I just dreaming both day and night?

(Please give me your thoughts by replog this post)

[pinkcadavart]

Priscilla Jane 🥀

[naffeclipse]

Alright, the second one is more of a scenario than an ask, but like:

I wonder, after a while, after making progress and having proven to y/n that he really is making an honest effort to better himself, when the hurt has had some time to heal, what if one time when he is feeling frustrated, maybe a bad day in which old habits want to resurface with a vengeance, what if he asks y/n how they did it? How in the world did they manage to just decide to be better? To realize they didn't like who they were and changed tracks so easily? Change so much of who they were, not lose themself, and on top of that alone?

(I imagine at least, he doesn't know that they weren't completely alone. Michael was there. They too had someone that was like a brother for them to lean on. The one family member they decided to keep from that horrible past.)

I am chomping at the bit over this and I'm finally ready to give you an answer.

Eclipse comes to them, fists shaking as he clenches his fists until they hear metal scraping, and asks them 'how?' How did they leave behind everything they were, everything they did, and simply become better?

It wasn't simple. The vigilante tells him that, first, it almost killed them in a way they hadn't known they could die. It wasn't with a bullet or a knife or heavy rocks in a river. It was realizing that they were no better than what first set them down this path of survival.

The vigilante has seen Eclipse progressing, has accepted his apology, and sees the hurt in his dark optics. They trust their gut. It's time to tell him something he didn't know about them.

Vanny took them away as a child and the one person who could have stopped the gangster could have saved them, looked the other way. A cop paid off.

The vigilante realized they were just the same as that police officer, just as corrupted and cruel when they handed that child to William Afton. They were no better than the evil that made them into Afton's loyal dog.

If surviving meant this, Y/N didn't want to survive anymore. They didn't want to look in the mirror and see themselves as another reason a child is left to suffer because no one else cared enough to save them. Apathy is no longer an excuse. They must care, or they must die a very real but not physical death, and to save themselves, Y/N acted to stop the hurt despite having spent so long numb and deliberately ignoring the pain outside of them. It was dreadful and it was almost too much to face, but they did it, and they did it by first asking for help.

Eclipse's hands have stopped shaking when the vigilante finishes. They place their palm over his curled fingers and slowly turn his large hand until they can see his palm. They smile and draw a little circle on his shadowy silicon and tell him he's doing just fine. He just has a little further to go. One day, it will be as simple as breathing, as pulsing with electricity, but right now, it's okay. He has his brothers, and he has a rather dashing vigilante, too.

[shinyskywalker]

bcs i thought it would be cool to read some of the legends novels, i am now burdened with the knowledge that boba fett watched a holo recording of luke finding the burned down farm

[smotherstories]

Visitors' day.

[necr0byte]

“I’m not done yet. Please, kiss my neck. Let’s go for another round. I hate what this song it about.”

Beabadoobie - “Cologne”

______________

Hey, cuties! Here’s my most recent drawing of Indika and my beautiful friend @eloquentmoon ‘s oc Mimi! In their timelines they briefly date, but their relationship is fiery and intense. It’s unfortunately ends in heartbreak and sorrow. These two gals are the definition of “right person, wrong time” and I’m literally already in my feels just thinking about it.

Stay tuned for more art of them! Most possibly angsty art at that! Teehee

Let me know what y’all think! Can’t wait to develop their stories more!

Much love!

~ Pumpkin 💕🎃

[strawberri-draws]

Oc family!!!!!!

[sinisterexaggerator]

Beauty and the Bounty Hunter preview: Chapter 5

Bane stalled, stopping dead, slowly but surely turning his hat and head. There was an eerie silence the hunter did not trust, fingers idling above the holster of one LL-30 BlasTech pistol. “May as well come out, cahn smell ye’ from a klick,” the gunslinger taunted. Three bodies emerged from behind trash and refuse, big and burly, weapons drawn and at the ready, as if they thought they had anything on him. Bane grinned a sadistic grin. “Let’s make dhis quick.”

[xinambercladx]

I had a dream about Cad Bane again. I was so excited to see him that I woke up. Q_Q

He was on a planet where no one knew who he was. The town looked like a dusty one from the wild west movies, but with aliens. He seemed relaxed, but going about his business in anonymity. He was helping some men (or they were helping him) move a large chest into the Saloon. You know those saloons. You see them all the time in those cowboy movies. It was bright and hot outside and a lot of the men had their shirts off. Cad Bane was shirtless too. I could see his lean yet fit figure and blue skin all the way to his belt line. I practically fainted. Well... I must have, because I woke up in the real world.

[draculasfavoritewife]

Was Blind, But Now I See

Summary: An eventful night planetside turns into something far deeper than your usual passionate embrace.

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Warnings: Sexual tension in every direction. Much angst. Possessive! Din. Reader might have a bit of a gambling problem. I use several long paragraphs to describe how beautiful I find Din Djarin. Religious trauma, Din being a bit of a soft dom here and there, implied smut at the end.

Din Djarin is truly at his best when he has someone to claim as HIS, and I really think we need to see more of that *I have spoken* Also, although my fics are not necessarily fully canon-compliant, this piece does take place pre-season-3 because he is still an apostate, for anyone who was wondering :)

*Translations of less common words/phrases in Mando'a at the end

You idly swirl your half-empty glass and wonder if it would be worth the pointed glare from your partner to ask him again if he wants a taste.

"I know what you're thinking," he grumbles from his seat beside you.

Immediately you affect a pose of dramatic injury. "You can't possibly accuse me of --"

"And no, I don't want a taste of your drink," he steamrolls over your protest. "I'm no closer to betraying my creed than I was an hour ago."

"Lucky guess," you smirk.

He snorts, a faint crackling of his vocal modulator. "Hardly."

You swivel around on the bar stool with a stifled groan, gaze flitting over the diverse crowd in the cantina. "Where's your contact?"

"They'll get here when they get here." His voice is even, nearly a drawl. You're not fooled by his apparent relaxed demeanor, though; long hours spent together in silence in the cockpit have clued you in to his minuscule tells. The alert focus of his helmet's visor, the tautness in his spine that means he could spring to his feet in an instant, the way his right hand almost absently brushes past his holster. Tiny things that would escape the eye of most, but you see, and know that he's ready for anything.

He's always ready for anything.

You wish, as you so often do, that there was somewhere he could truly drop his eternal vigilance and be free of his shadows for a time.

"Don't you give me that look."

You shake out of your reverie. "I wasn't even looking at you!"

"You were in your head, and that's worse," he observes matter-of-factly. "This is not the time, nor the place. Go play a round of sabacc if you need a way to pass the time." He jabs a nod in the direction of the corner table, where a motley group is arguing loudly over house rules.

It's very tempting. You haven't hustled a game table in a long time, and you might even come away with a handsome win, if you remember to quit while you're ahead.

"Come watch me?" You lean closer to him. "I promise you a good time, it looks like a real group of nerf herders over there."

"Pass." There's finally a note of something like annoyance in his tone. "We can't both be distracted."

"Alright! I can take a hint." You drain your glass and rise, sauntering away to the table. "I'm not responsible for any brawls, though."

"Sure. Feel like I've heard that one before." The Mandalorian tears his gaze away from your retreating figure and turns his attention back to scanning the crowd. Normally you're as patient as he is, and normally he wouldn't encourage you to indulge your recovering sabacc habit, but whether it's the fault of a recent hunt that ran longer than expected or the rough flight to reach this system, he knows you're both on edge.

After all, whether on the job or with the both of you taking shifts in the pilot's chair through a particularly harrowing debris field, little time has been left for the pair of you to spend together recently.

Though he may not be well-versed in the ways of your adopted culture's kinetic communication, he definitely recognized that look in your eyes. It's the look when you start fantasizing about finally getting him out of all that beskar and into a much more...personal setting.

And he can't have you keep staring at him like that, or he starts thinking about it too.

"It's better this way," he mutters under his breath, consciously avoiding the game table with his searching gaze.

His man had better show up soon.

The group at the card table is finally starting to catch on that you just might know a bit more about sabacc than you said earlier. The heap of credits in front of you has grown substantially in the hour since you joined their circle, and the Nikto across from you is beginning to get agitated.

Still, that's preferable to the Zabrak next to you, who's been making increasingly obvious passes at you with each win you take.

"Come on, Boys, one more round," you urge as you sweep more credits into your pile and begin stacking them neatly. "I swear, it's beginner's luck, I can't possibly keep winning forever."

There's a general grumbling as some leave the table, having had enough for the night.

The Nikto asks in Huttese what could possibly sweeten the deal.

So, high on the rush of winning, you make the ill-advised decision to throw your Corellian Jiang necklace into the pot, and end up somehow losing to the protocol droid.

"That's not possible!" you protest, throwing down your cards. "I had full sabacc! The odds of an Idiot's Array are astronomically low! Something's not adding up."

But the droid adamantly defends itself, so you leave in a huff, more torn up about the loss of the necklace than you'd care to admit. It was the only thing you had left of an old friend during a stint on Corellia a long time ago, and meant a good deal more to you than just its rarity and value.

You find your way back to your seat next to Din and bark at the bartender for a hot caf.

"Kriff. That bad?" he asks, and you could swear you hear the hint of a grin teasing at the edges of his voice.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You always get a Fire Dancer when you win," he observes. "Caf is your sad drink."

"I've made some bad choices," you lament over the edge of the steaming mug. "But I'll live."

"Glad to hear it." He falls silent again as the Zabrak from the game table approaches to sit on your other side. You strike up a polite conversation, more as something to distract you from your recent losses than anything else. You certainly have no intention of entertaining any extra notions he might have.

Din's already possessive instincts, however, are quickly ratcheting up into overdrive, and it takes you by surprise when his gloved hand suddenly appears on your upper thigh. It's a bold move for him, in public at least, and you can't deny that a slight shiver runs through your entire body at your armored warrior staking his claim in front of another man like this.

The Zabrak, to his credit, looks put off for a brief moment and then tries one last tactic. "What do you say to getting out of this place for a bit, huh? I can always bring you back before it gets too late. The city's beautiful this time of evening."

The hand on your thigh tightens its grip, making your own fingers convulsively curl around the edge of the bar as his dig into your soft flesh. His mere touch is driving you wild; it hits with sudden weight just how long it's been since he's touched you like this.

How utterly unfair that gleaming beskar helmet seems now.

At least HE can hide whatever is going on in his head.

When you gather yourself enough to reply, your voice, thank the Maker, is under control if nothing else. "You'd have to ask my escort," you hum, indicating the Mandalorian, whose focus is now trained on the unwelcome interloper with all the disintegrating intensity of his pulse rifle.

"I don't. Share."

It's his "Try me, pal, I know twenty different ways to kill you" voice, and the crazy part of you wants nothing more than for him to throw you down on this counter and --

Well, better stop that thought quick before it leaves your tongue.

The Zabrak gets the message and sulks away, leaving the pair of you in a tense, brittle quiet spell. His hand is still resting on you, fingers thoughtfully rubbing the crease where your thigh joins your hip.

"This is getting old," he mutters.

You roll your eyes. "Guys like him come to the cantinas to pick up ladies, Mando. It's not personal."

"They should know better."

"They're all dumb as shaaks, Cyare." You toss back the rest of your caf, grimacing now that it's gone cold. "It's not like I walk around wearing a sign that says 'Back off, I'm with Shiny'."

He doesn't answer, but is on his feet now, reaching for your hand. "Come on."

You frown. "Your contact?"

"Can wait. They've kept me waiting too long already. Outside. Now."

Dusk has fallen outside the cantina. The suns have disappeared and the breeze is starting to grow chilly. Shadows lay thick and indigo in the narrow alleyways, and you unconsciously rub your arms against the cooling air, wondering what could possibly have driven your partner to drag you out here.

"Can you see?" he questions.

You scoff. "Maybe. If I squint real hard."

"Good." There's a sharp metallic sound in the gloom, and then suddenly his mouth is attacking your neck, right underneath your jaw, and all your breath comes out in a low whine.

He's merciless, and you're defenseless in his grasp, only the fact that you're biting your tongue keeping you from gasping his real name out loud.

Finally he lets you breathe again, resting his forehead against yours so your noses touch.

"Jate, Mesh'la. You've never stayed so quiet before," he teases softly.

"You've never done that just outside a crowded cantina before!" you huff.

He kisses you, far too briefly, and replaces the helmet. "Think that'll do the trick?" he growls, running his thumb over the love bite he left behind.

It must be a good one, for how thorough he was.

"I imagine the message is clear." You lean into him, pretending for a moment that the hard edges of his beskar are gone and all you can feel is him.

"I'll finish the transaction as quickly as possible," he promises in your ear.

"Good. I might do something desperate if we're stuck in this scughole much longer." You pull away from his embrace.

"If you need something to take your mind off of...us, for a bit, go get your necklace back," he suggests. "That piece of scrap and the Nikto hut'uun were cheating. Slipped the droid a card under the table."

You bang your fist into the wall. "I knew it!"

"I know I technically got thrown out on my ass, but you gotta admit, it was a good end to that disaster." You sweep your hair out of the way and fasten your Jiang pendant around your throat again with satisfaction. Smacking the full bag of credits at your belt, you add, "And I brought income! I'm gonna buy some quality seafood at the next market we hit. The Kid will appreciate that, I'm sure."

Aside from noncommittal grunts of acknowledgement, Din is strangely quiet as you board the ship and prepare everything to take off in the morning. You're not sure exactly what's bothering him -- his deal went through and all seemed well, so it must be an internal problem he's solving. Determined not to let his change in attitude get to you, and knowing you'd ask too much of him for now if you hung around him, you escape to the cockpit and lounge in his chair, staring out at the thousands of stars that are beginning to glow in the darkness beyond.

What killed the mood?

You hear him approach eventually, hauling himself up the ladder behind you. Heavy footsteps ring through the small space as he arrives beside the chair, where he pauses.

"You should have at least turned around to check that it was me." Even the stern reproach sounds halfhearted. Something's eating at him.

"Who else would it have been, Din? The Kid wearing your armor?"

You take his silence as a concession of your point.

When it stretches on, however, you decide to try and make some conversation. Maker knows how long he'll just stand there staring out at the view otherwise. "She look good for takeoff tomorrow? Or do I need to give anything a once-over?" Maybe he's just waiting for his chair back and being too polite about it.

You rise and make to slip past him.

"How long have we been doing this?" he suddenly asks, a solid wall of beskar preventing you from getting anywhere.

"Hell, Din, I don't know. What even is 'this'?" You don't know where the sudden impatience has come from, aren't even sure if you and he are referring to the same thing.

"Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum," he murmurs, one of those multi-talented hands rising to tip your chin up towards his helmet. "That's all I know, ner'kar'ta. Whatever we are...I know that I love you. And have for however long we've been traveling this lonely way together."

You soften, letting him pull you to his chest, wrapping your arms around him. "I love you, Din Djarin. Have for a very long time. And will continue to do so for however long we are given."

There's a slight quiver to his hand now, betrayed as he presses his palm flat against your back. "I was...thinking, tonight."

You remain silent, waiting for him to go on.

"You know most of the story, Cyar'ika. How the Armorer told me I am dar'manda. Grogu has seen...has looked upon my face. Because I wanted him to know that we are...aliit."

"I know." Those had been long nights, the first few after your reunion, when the pain of excommunication was still a freshly bleeding wound. Those nights, kisses tasted like the salt of his silent tears, and more often than not he simply desired to be held by you, for someone who understood to remind him that all was not over. You will always remember those nights, when you wondered in terror if he would finally, truly fall apart if you ever let go.

"I am not bound by the creed until I am redeemed," he muses softly. "And I realized tonight...we are committed to each other. There is no reason for me to wonder if you will leave anymore, is there?"

You shake your head. "I've told you, my love. Even the stars themselves couldn't keep me from finding my way back to you."

He releases a long breath.

"Would you want to see me, if I were to show you?"

Your own breath seems to have met a hitch.

"Din...it's a dream of mine. I've always wanted to see all of you." You tentatively rest your fingertips against the cool surface of the helmet. "But only if you truly want to show me."

"I do, Mesh'la. I want us to finally see each other eye-to-eye. Even for just a moment."

You can only nod in answer. This moment is all at once too sacred and too sacrilegious for anything you could possibly think to say. So instead you draw back, waiting for him to move when he's ready.

His hand slowly pushes the helmet up and back, and for the very first time, you are actually gazing into the face of the man who captured your heart.

Finally, all of the small details you have discovered over time in the dark tie together. The rugged facial hair framing a broad jawline, the slope of his regal nose and the artful curves of his full lips. His hair, thick and tousled by the helmet, is a rich brown, streaked here and there with a strand of silver.

He's beautiful.

But those eyes.

His eyes are the one feature you've never been able to guess at. You have imagined them sparking with anger or softening with affection, but nothing could have prepared you for what lovely eyes they are. Darkest brown, endlessly deep, the eyes of a world-weary and yet somehow still hopeful man. Eyes that overflow with sensitivity and uncertainty, eyes that have unerringly marked a thousand targets for death.

Sharp, sad eyes, that now stare into yours as if seeking out a hidden truth that only you can give him.

He's beautiful.

"You're...crying," he notes with curiosity, a gentle gloved hand brushing the tears from your cheek.

"Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, Din Djarin," you whisper, unable to look away from those spellbinding eyes. "Thank you, for letting me finally see you. I love you."

He kisses you, first your lips, then the shining tracks of your tears, ending on the same dark smudge where he marked you as his earlier.

"I've been wanting to, for a long time," he confesses quietly. "You have no idea how much I've struggled with it."

You stretch up to kiss his forehead, reveling in the fact that you have finally done so in the light. "I don't think I've ever loved you more."

He reaches around you, dims the lights in the cockpit until you're both shrouded in shadows again. "Well, I have an idea of how I can make it even better."

You smirk, pushing him down into the pilot's seat. "Oh? Do tell."

He pulls you forward so you're suddenly in his lap. "I haven't forgotten the way you were devouring me with your eyes back there, Mesh'la. I think you and I are long overdue for this."

"So long," you agree, settling into a comfortable position on top of him so you can begin the lengthy process of lovingly divesting him of his armor. Your yearning from earlier has returned in full force, coupled with the glowing intimacy of finally having set eyes on your lover's face.

"I need you, Din. And I'm going to make you pay for not letting me reciprocate in the alley."

"You still mad at me over that?" His raspy chuckle sounds close to your ear as his deft fingers undo the fastenings of your jacket.

"You know me, my hunter." You work his undershirt off, letting your hands trail down his chest and grinning at the startled catch in his throat. "I hold a grudge."

His hand snakes around to rest at the back of your neck, a tender gesture that also swiftly reminds you of his possessiveness and makes your heart skip.

"Well, then," and his voice goes smooth, "allow me to amend for my earlier actions."

You can almost imagine his eyes -- those dark, dark eyes -- sparkling with heated mischief.

"After all, you did behave so nicely for me. I think someone deserves a reward."

Jate = Good

Hut'uun = Coward

Ner'kar'ta = My heart

Dar'manda = Not Mandalorian

Aliit = Family/Clan