#cara dune imagine

[dookuswifey]

THE MANDALORIAN | OneShot

Tw: Smut, Fingering, dirty talk, Angst if you squint really hard and look sideways.

Pairing: Cara Dune x Fem!Reader

A/n: This is for my bestie @drawingdroid who is completely normal about Miss Cara Dune.

Cara wants to be more than "friends" so talking and smut happens.

You whined against Cara's neck as you were pushed against the wall of a scruffy alleyway, the dark haired woman kissed your neck sloppily. Your breath quickened as your nails dug deeper into Cara's arms.

-Shhhh, babe are you coming? Are you coming for me? Thats my good girl...sweetheart, mhhm...i feel your cunt sucking on my fingers, i know you're close...come for me, sugar - Cara bit your earlobe pulling slighty so it stung.

Between the mix of pleasure and pain you came, your juices slipped through Cara's hand as she keep pumping in and out so you could ride your orgasm longer.

- That...Was so good- Cara smiled, kissing your sweaty cheek.- you're so good...- She mumbled.

You slouched against Cara, your body completely relaxed as you tried to regain your breath.

- Yeah....Yeah Cara...- You mumbled, brain hazy as you nuzzled into the other woman shoulder.- You're awesome- You smiled and Cara felt her ears redden.

The both of you had been having these kind of encounters for a while now, neither of you wished to open the question of what you two were; Friends with benefits? Lovers? Cara didn't know, but she hoped it was the later.

After regaining your composure and fixing your clothing both of you walked away from the alley, as if nothing had happened, and re-entered the bar where the group was eating.

-Patu!- The glee on the child's tone as he splashed his spoon on the soup was your warm welcome. Mando, as always was sitting still, trying to get Grogu to actually eat the soup. The both of you looked at eachother and giggled, walking to your seats.

- Where were you two?- Mando asked as he took the spoon back.

- Bathroom.- Cara nonchalantly lied.

- The both of you?- Asked Din suspiciously.

- Don't you know women go to the bathroom in pairs?- Cara's response and Din's complete ignorance of social cues made you giggle behind your hand.

- Don't worry, Mando. We're here, that's what matters- You said, breaking the starring contest between a smirking Dune and an innocent Mando.- So what's the next quarry?

The mandalorian feed a spoonful of soup to the child before responding.

- A petty criminal, will be easy. A go-in get-out, get-credits situation- He explained.- We'll have to enter a club, but nothing too difficult.

- You think you won't be noticed in a club? - Cara snorted as Mando looked at her offended.- Between the amount of Beskar on you plus your awkwardness...That will make the target flee before you know it! - Cara said as she nicked the table with her nails.- Let us help, that way it will be easier, you stay in the shadows and Babe and I are the distractions- Cara's hand laid on your thigh sneakily under the table.

-... Fine, but I need all the credits for the womprat's food, he is a growing child. - Cara's hand tightened her hold on your thigh as Mando's agreed, both of you couldn't help but laugh at the mandalorian's words.

- Fine, Fine! That's good for me- Cara said, theatrically putting her hands up defensivelly against the Mandodad's deadpan stare.

°•○ Time Skip ○•°

The mission was going smoothly until the quarry laid his dirty hands on your lower back as Cara was quick to snach her hidden dagger and point it to the quarry's neck.

- Get your hands off of her or I'll cut them off for you, scum- She whispered menacingly on the criminal's ear. Sensing danger, Mando quickly approached them, taking the quarry away from Cara as he was sure she was going to slice him to ribbons.

- I take it from here, thank you.- Mumbled Mando as he knocked the man out cold and dragged him towards the Crest for a carbonite shower.

You looked at Cara with a frown as she looked back with confusion.

- Whats with that look?

- I had it under control!- You angrily stated.- You're always treating me like a child! I wanted to show that I'm a capable bountyhunter but you never let me do my things!- You raged as the dark haired woman stared in mild surprise that quickly turned to frustration.

- I was trying to protect you from the scum of this galaxy!! That asshole was trying to get into your pants!

- So what?! WHAT IF I WANTED THAT? You're always doing this! Even when it's not mission related!

- Oh! Pardon me for wanting to protect you!- Cara mockingly bowed before turning heel and walking to the exit. She had seen the looks people were giving your group and she truly didn't want to be banned from another bar this rotation.

As Cara walked outside you followed angrily behind her, ready to tell her off for once again getting on the way. The both of you had walked quite a bit as the streets became ghostly when you finally reached for Cara's shoulder and pushed her agaisnt a wall.

- You're my friend! Why do you treat me as a child?!- You yelled in frustration as Cara looked in bewilderment.

- Friends?- she parroted.- Friends?! - her tone got higher as she reversed the positions, pinning you under her and against the wall as she pulled you in a deep kiss. You couldn't help but moan against Cara's warm lips, easily opening your mouth as Cara's tongue prodded for entrance. The kiss quickly became messy and wet as when Cara pulled away for air strings of saliva still connected your mouths together. - Friends don't do this kind of shit, sweetheart. - Cara said wipping the saliva of your bruised lips with her thumb. As you caugh the bountyhunter's thumb between your lips Cara truly looked at the state you were in, seeing your flushed and dishelved look, truly adorable.- I don't want to be just friends babe, I though I made it clear.- Her voice softened as she snug her body against yours, kissing your flushed cheeks lovingly.

- I...I thought I was just a... a distraction? I guess. I didn't think...- Your rambling was silenced by a loving kiss, your hands fondly finding their way in Cara's short hair.

- That's just the thing, sweetheart... You think too much- She responded as her kisses traveled towards your neck.- If you want me to stop, tell me now and I will stop. But we can't pretend this didn't happen, you cannot deny the spark between us.- The huntress mumbled against your collarbone.

- Don't...

- What?- Cara asked, slight confusion on her voice.

- Don't pretend then. I won't stop you- You smiled at the taller woman and softly pulled her for a kiss.- I want you, as more than friends too.- You mumbled against her lips, softly bitting Cara's lower lip pulling a soft moan out of the huntress.

- I cannot help myself anymore- Cara mumbled as she picked you up and kicked open the door of a nearby hut she had been staying in.

Clumsily she navigated the dark room between clumsy steps, soft giggles and the sound of kissing. Quickly she lowered you on the small cot and quickly took her shirt off before latching on your lips again, her hands going to caress the skin under your shirt.

- Mmh...you're so soft, babe...so perfect for me- She whinned as you purposely rubbed your knee against Cara's center.- oh shit, babe- she moaned, rutting against your knee, her hands went to your thighs in search of anchor.

- You look so pretty right now...- You mumbled teasingly, hands cupping Cara's breasts, caressing her nubs under her bra.

- Oh honey...- Cara moaned as her hands clumsily undid your belt and pants.- Each of my thoughts about you are inproper... You don't have any idea of all the things I dreamed of doing to you...- Cara kissed you again as she pulled on your pants, pulling them down.- On Mando's ship, at the bar, heck even out in public! You drive me mad, woman- she huskily said as her hands pulled your bra up, freeing your tits and quickly snaching a nipple onto her mouth.

- Oh Cara~!- You moaned, your hands pulling on Cara's hair as your body arched.- Show me, show me all the things you want to do... please, show me!- You begged as the dark haired woman rolled your nipple between her teeth and tongue.

- Oh babe... If i do that you won't be able to walk tomorrow...- She unlached from the cherry pink nipple to lick the other.

- Then we'll stay on bed...I'm sure Mando won't mind...- You whinned as your hands caressed Cara's panties, finding the wet patch there incredibly sexy. The bountyhunter moaned, her hips thrusting against your hand in search for pleasure. Her dark eyes looked for yours, both so blown out in their frenzy.

- Don't say I didn't warn you tomorrow~ - Cara smirked as she popped two of her fingers into her mouth, wetting them eaguerly- Open wide, babe- She ordered as with her free hand she tapped on your thighs.

Getting the memo, you quickly raised your hips and slipped your panties down, shimmying one leg out so you could spread them wider, showing Cara your flushed heat.

- Mmh...So pretty and wet...my girl is so good - She smirked, popping her fingers out of her mouth loudly and caressing your heated labia with them, spreading her saliva as lube.- I would eat you right now...but I'm hungry for something else- the dark haired woman kissed you deeply as her thumb spread the mix of saliva and wetness around your clit, pulling the hood off softly.

-Oh Cara~♡- You moaned, bitting Cara's shoulder to hold in your screams of pleasure as the huntress' long fingers slowly entered your sex.

- Shhh precious... It'll be okay...let me know when to move - She huskily said as she peppered kisses all over your jaw and neck.

A few seconds later your hips started moving softly and Cara matched the tempo, slowly opening you wider.

- Ooohhhhh~♥︎ - Your highpiched whine was muffled against Cara's neck as she smiled and rotated her fingers; Bingo!Gspot!

- Do you like it when I touch you here, babe? Do you like the feeling of my fingers fucking your pretty cunt open?- Cara whispered as her fingers moved in a "come closer" fashion, caressing that sweet spot over and over again.

- Oh-Kark! Yes! Oh Yes! No one fucks me like you do- You moaned, kissing and mouthing at Cara's chin- Fuck... Cara faster, please!

- Have I ever told you how much I love the way you look with my fingers inside you? You look so pretty for me... just so gorgeous. - She smiled, quickening the rymth of her fingers as her thumb rubbed circles around your clit.- Will you come for me, pretty girl? Will you bless me with your come?- the bountyhunter moaned as her hips started to rut agaisnt your thigh fevershly.

- Ohh! Maker yes! Yes please! Only for you Cara!- You wailed, so lost on pleasure you didn't notice your nails were ripping the cheap bedsheets under your body.- Please, I'm so close! Please Cara, please!- Your begs made the woman smile.

- Then come for me, babe...Come for your girlfriend...- she pulled you into a deep kiss as you arched against her body,as the waves of pleasure crashed behind your eyelids. The kiss swallowed your screams of pleasure, your toes curling as your legs hugged Cara's waist, pulling her closer until you both were cuddling, sweaty, happy and satisfied.

[ooops-i-arted]

With Mandalore reclaimed, Din and his partner Cara lead their people and their own clan into a new age of peace and prosperity.

CaraDin Royalty AU Aesthetic, requested by @jennadknowsbest-blog

CaraDin Moodboards 2/?

[multifandomfanfiction]

Tome Chapter 5

TITLE: Tome Chapter 5 PAIRING: No Pairing RATING: T CHAPTER: 5/? SUMMARY: Cathrin is the Armorer’s foundling and future Alor of the Covert. But what happens when she makes the decision to abandon the Covert and leave with Din and the Child?

Cathrin stayed back at the village while Cara and Din went to investigate the raiders.

They came back with less than stellar news.

“Bad news. You can’t live here anymore,” Din told them.

Cathrin mentally face-palmed. This man had no idea how to interact with civilians.

“Nice bedside manner,” Cara muttered.

“You think you can do better?”

“Can’t do much worse.” Cara stepped forward. “I know this is not the news you wanted to hear, but there are no other options.”

“You took the job,” one of the villagers said.

“Yeah. That was before we knew about the AT-ST.”

“What is that?”

“The armored walker with two enormous guns that you knew about and didn’t tell us.”

The villagers started arguing.

“We have nowhere to go,” Omera told them.

“Sure you do. This is a big planet. I mean, I’ve seen a lot smaller,” Cara said.

“My grandparents seeded these ponds,” one of the villagers said.

“It took generations.”

“I understand. I do. But there are only two of us. Three if you count the kid.”

It took Cathrin a second to realize Cara was talking about her. Din must have told her that Cathrin had never seen real battle.

“No, there’s not. There’s at least 20 here,” a villager argued.

“I mean fighters. Be realistic.”

“We can learn!” “We can!” “Give us a chance!” “Please.”

“I’ve seen that thing take out entire companies of soldiers in a matter of minutes,” Cara told them.

“We’re not leaving,” Omera reiterated.

“You cannot fight that thing.”

“Unless we show them how,” Din said.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Din and Cara immediately launched into a battle strategy.

Cathrin thought it was fascinating watching how their minds worked.

“You got two problems here. You got the bandits and you got the mech. We’ll handle the AT-ST, but you gotta protect us when they come out of the woods. And I don’t have to tell you how dangerous they are. Cara Dune here was a veteran. She was a drop soldier for the Rebellion and she’s gonna lay out a plan for you, so listen carefully,” Din told them. He turned it over to Cara.

“Now, there’s nothing on this planet that can damage the legs on this thing, so we’re gonna build a trap. We’re gonna need to dig real deep, right here, so that when it steps in, it drops. The two of us will hit their camp. Provoke them. That’ll bring the fight out of the woods and down here to us.”

“I’m gonna need you to cut down trees and build barricades around these edges. I need it high enough so that they can’t get over and strong enough that it can’t break through. Okay. Who knows how to shoot?”

Omera was the only one to raise her hand.

The villagers got to work executing Din and Cara’s plan and training.

“What about me?” Cathrin asked.

“You’re going to stay with the children,” Din told her.

“What! I…I can help!”

“No, this is too dangerous for you.”

“I’m wearing Beskar. Same as you.”

“You have no experience with battle.”

“Then how am I supposed to learn?”

“The answer is no.”

Cathrin wanted to cross her arms over her chest and stomp her foot like a child, but she didn’t.

Din sighed. “You are under my protection. I cannot let anything happen to you. You are the future…”

“I don’t care about that! I don’t care about being the new Alor! I came with you by my own free will to experience the world. You don’t owe me anything.”

Din put a hand on her shoulder. “Stay with the children. Take care of the kid.”

Cathrin stomped off towards the children as Din started pulling out weapons.

Why had she even bothered coming along if Din was just going to treat her like a glorified babysitter?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The sun started to set, so Din and Cara started off for the raiders’ camp.

Cathrin heard the thundering footsteps of the AT-ST.

The footsteps stopped. It hadn’t fallen. Had the raiders surrendered already?

Cathrin handed the baby to Winta. “Stay here, okay? Do not under any circumstances leave this hut.”

Winta nodded.

Cathrin burst out of the hut and ran towards the battle. She arrived just in time to see the AT-ST lumber out of the woods.

It stopped right before it stepped over the ditch they had dug.

She ran towards the mech.

“Cathrin!” Din yelled. Din got up and ran after her. He caught her around the waist and started to pull her back when something happened.

As if pulled by an invisible force, the AT-ST was yanked forward and fell to the ground.

Cathrin went limp in Din’s arms. He dragged her over to the barricade. He pulled off his glove and placed his fingers on her neck.

Her pulse was normal and she was breathing.

“What the hell was that?” Cara asked him.

He didn’t know, but it looked an awful like what the kid could do.

[write-your-reality]

Write Your Reality

Hi y'all! Just wanted to plug my new Etsy shop for writing commissions. Right now I've got listings up for personalized emails from your favorite characters, but I'll be adding other types of writing commissions too in the same vein!

I'm comfortable writing for:

Assassin's Creed:

Altaïr

Ezio

Desmond

Arno

Star Wars:

The Mandalorian

Cara Dune

Kylo Ren

Rey

Marvel Cinematic Universe:

Bucky Barnes

Thor

If you don't see your favorite/comfort character her or on the listings, just reach out to me on here, on my Etsy, or through my email: writeyourreality1191@gmail.com . I'm willing to try my hand at certain characters if I'm at least familiar with the fandom! :)

Check out my listings for pricing + more info!!!

[christinamadsen]

Don't Blame Me: Series

Summary: " The noise level in the cantina, dropped to zero slowly. Nadia frowned at what had caused it when her eyes landed to the doorway. A Mandalorian. She heard the stories. The fiercest warriors that could kill in seconds and lived for the danger and one was now standing in front of her."

Don't Blame Me can also be found on Ao3 and Wattpad

SEASON ONE:

Chapter One: The Mandalorian

Chapter Two: Nevarro

Chapter Three: Warming Up

Chapter Four: Weakling

Chapter Five: Starry Night

Chapter Six: Prepare For Battle

Chapter Seven: Toro Calican

Chapter Eight: The Real Traitor

Chapter Nine: The Bad And The Ugly

Chapter Ten: Close Call

Chapter Eleven: Assembling A Team

Chapter Twelve: Those We Can Trust

Chapter Thirteen: Moff Gideon

SEASON TWO

Chapter Fourteen: Mos Pelgo

Chapter Fifteen: Dragon Hunting

Chapter Sixteen: Crashing Down On Us

Chapter Seventeen: Frozen Fingers

Chapter Eighteen: Crossed Lines

Chapter Nineteen: My Girl

Chapter Twenty: Old Friends, Old Threats

Chapter Twenty One: Menace Aura

[ak-vintage]

Quarry - Epilogue

Pairing: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x f!reader

Summary: Din Djarin is on what he expects to be his last bounty hunt for Greef Karga. However, after capturing a wanted starship engineer who would rather go anywhere other than “home,” the Mandalorian is forced to reassess his priorities.

Your taste of freedom had been brief but glorious. Now you are a prisoner of the most infamous bounty hunter in the Outer Rim – it’s only a matter of time before he turns you in. There isn’t much you would not do to keep from being sent home, but as you find yourself growing closer to your captor and his strange little companion, you start to wonder whether escape is really what you want.

Set immediately following Chapter 13: The Jedi.

Chapter Tags & Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Reader is Mando's live-in starship engineer, second-person POV, no use of Y/N, minimal descriptors of reader character, angst, bittersweet-ness, so much love and fluff, SMUT - Din take this helmet off, thigh riding, oral sex (m receiving), P in V sex, reader on top, Din's dirty mouth, all the praise, cursing in Mando'a (I had to let these two go out with a bang, they would have rioted otherwise)

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Read on AO3

Your return to Nevarro was bittersweet in a way you hadn’t fully expected.

You hadn’t anticipated the swell of emotion you would feel at the sight of the coal-black sands and the rugged white architecture, a pang in your heart that reminded you of the relief of coming home. You hadn’t planned for the immediate ache of Grogu’s absence, always there but particularly poignant when you realized that you hadn’t thought you would be coming back here without him. You hadn’t thought to steel yourself against the rush of affection that washed over you as you said your goodbyes to Fennec and Boba, wishing for all the galaxy that they could stay even while you knew that they had their own priorities to look after back on Tatooine. The sensation had almost choked you when the former pulled you into an unexpected embrace, cradling the back of your head in her gloved palm in a way that reminded you painfully of your mother.

“Keep working on that right hook,” she murmured into your shoulder, arms tight as durasteel around you as you clung to her lean frame. “I expect you to give me a run for my money on the sparring mat the next time I see you.”

You hadn’t expected Greef Karga himself to greet you on the tarmac as you disembarked from the Firespray. The way his handsome, weathered face had gone from cheery to confused to mournful as he swept his gaze across Din, then Cara, then you in search of little green child and not finding one, the way he had immediately opened his mouth to ask only to be interrupted by a wave of Din’s hand.

“My quest is completed. He’s with his own kind.”

You imagined there might have been a time when those words would have been said with triumph or satisfaction, but instead they sounded flat and hollow as they crackled through the bounty hunter’s helmet.

Victory and loss. Comradery and loneliness. Homecoming and homesickness. You wondered how long this dichotomy would linger, how long it would be before you could experience one emotion without also being overwhelmed by its opposite. Would anything ever feel quite right again, now that Grogu was gone?

---

After dropping off her belongings at her apartment, Cara Dune took you both out to lunch at Ninda’s, the same cantina she had introduced you to before your departure for Tython. Din had protested, insisting that the two of you ought to be heading for the port office, but thankfully, the marshal had refused to take no for an answer. Now, bellies full of savory meat pies and mugs of ale, you could feel an air of anticipation settle over the table as Cara leaned back in her chair and asked the question that had lingered in the back of your mind since departing Gideon’s cruiser.

“So. What’s next?”

You glanced at Din, catching his gaze only briefly through his visor before he replied, “We’ll be moving on. There’s nothing left for me here now that my covert is gone, and we’re still out of a ship. I need to find work.”

“Plenty of work to be done here,” Cara retorted. “City’s growing every day. I could always use a deputy, and I’m sure we could find a spot for your girl somewhere. Not nearly enough people with your skills around here yet,” she continued, flashing you a smile. “You could be one of the first. Open your own shop. Karga would approve your business license in a heartbeat.”

You huffed a soft laugh. She was right, of course. You could do it if you wanted – start your own business. Perhaps you could repair broken hardware, design custom mods, restore vintage ships. You could probably even build them from scratch if you found a good parts supplier. It would be a good life, a stable life. Shipbuilding was a lucrative business, and you could be your own boss, something that had felt like a pipe dream during your years of servitude on Chardaan.

But one look at Din had you shaking your head and slipping your hand under the table to rest on his thigh, giving him a comforting squeeze. Your bounty hunter wasn’t ready for that kind of life just yet. You could feel it in the tightness of his muscles beneath your hand, could see it in the way he crossed his arms over his chest at the suggestion.

Someday, you thought that might be something he wanted, but for now, you could feel the itch to return to his nomadic life among the stars burning under his skin as if it were your own.

“That’s generous of you. But we can’t stay,” you said after a beat. “It’s not time for us to settle just yet.”

Cara accepted your response with moderate grace, ensuring that you each had her personal comm link code should you change your minds. She also informed you that Karga had offered to put you up in a temporary apartment for as long as you wished while you decided your next destination.

“It’s nothing special,” she quipped, passing Din a sleek, black keycard. “Just something he used to rent out to clients back in the day, when they wanted to do business in person. But it should have everything you need until you’re ready to move on.”

A swell of fondness rose up in your chest, making it difficult to swallow as you fought the urge to launch yourself across the table and wrap the other woman in a fierce hug.  Meanwhile, the Mandalorian appeared reluctant to accept. Slipping the keycard into his belt, he rasped, “You can tell Karga I’ll be paying him back.”

The marshal laughed, loud and brash. “He’d shoot you for even suggesting it.”

“It’s too much. I won’t be indebted to him like that.”

“Indebted?” Cara looked almost offended at the suggestion, dark eyes flashing sharply. “You know better than anybody what it means to take care of your own, right? Let Karga do the same.”

This response seemed to take Din aback; you watched his helmet cock to the side in confusion as he processed her words, as if it were the first time he had considered that others might be willing to show up for him whether there was something in it for them or not.

You wondered then if he knew how much he meant to people, if he knew how strongly others were drawn to him without any effort on his part. You wondered if he knew how his sense of honor, his generosity, his steadfastness all made him a natural leader. He was the type of person who inspired loyalty, whether he actively sought it or not. Such a thing was a rare gift.

Almost absently, your eyes dropped to his utility belt where the inactive hilt of the Darksaber hung limply against his armored thigh. Should he wish it, he could take up Bo-Katan’s mission – reunite his people. He would be a tremendous Mand’alor, and that sword would give him more legitimacy than if he had been born to it.

“Fine,” he replied, pulling you out of your musings. “Just this once. We won’t linger long anyway.”

Cara shrugged. “Like I said – it’s yours for as long as you want. Just promise you’ll stop in and say goodbye when the time comes, okay?”

---

The apartment was in the market district, a little one-bedroom unit on the fourth floor of a white-washed building edged in royal blue trim.

The first floor was taken up with a tidy little caf shop that you looked forward to patronizing, and both sides of the cozy cobblestone street were lined with market stalls shaded by colorful linen awnings, all varying shades of red, orange, and gold. In spite of the charming surroundings, the marshal’s assessment of the unit itself had been accurate – it wasn’t nearly as lavish as the inn you had stayed in the last time you were on Nevarro. However, after spending weeks in deep space, the full kitchen, running water refresher, and large bed felt downright luxurious even if it was a bit barebones.

“I wonder how many places like this Karga has across the city,” you mused, pacing the length of the living space. The place had been sparsely furnished in nondescript shades of gray – a charcoal sofa, a light gray leather armchair, a two-person dining table in an ashen wood with a shining steel surface. Not unwelcoming but decidedly devoid of personality.

Din cocked his helmet in thought, following close on your heels. “A few, I’m sure. He likes to be prepared.”

You hummed thoughtfully. You could see that; Karga struck you as the type of man who was accustomed to holding all the cards.

Setting aside thoughts of the magistrate for the moment, you turned to face your companion, taking in the Mandalorian in your first moment of true solitude in weeks. Even through the bulk of his armor and the impassivity of his helmet, you could sense his weariness. It draped across his broad shoulders like a cloak, his emotions nearly tangible to you after so many months in his company. How had you ever thought this man stoic?

Closing the narrow distance between you, you rested your palms against the cool, unyielding surface of his breastplate and gazed up into his visor. “How are you, ner kar’ta?” you asked earnestly.

Your question hung in the still, silent air for a moment before the bounty hunter slipped his hands casually around your waist and pulled you to him. “Hmm. I like it when you speak Mando’a,” he rasped, fingers kneading the curve of your hips through the coarse fabric of your boilersuit.

You grinned, leaning gently into his touch. “Yeah? I’ve been practicing my accent.”

“It’s really coming along,” Din replied with a nod. You could hear the smile in his voice, could picture the softness in his dark eyes as he gazed at you, and you felt a gentle flush rise in your cheeks.

“I’d love to learn more, if you’re willing. All the phrases I know at this point are just…expressions of affection.” You hit him with a pointed look, eyebrow arched, and he huffed a laugh.

“I’d be happy to teach you.”

“I look forward to our first lesson.” Drawing your lower lip between your teeth, you shuffled another inch closer and threaded your fingers into the folds of his cape. “Now. If you’re done dodging the question…”

Broad, heavy palms drifted lower then, pressing warmly, firmly into the muscles of your ass, and you struggled to keep your eyelids from drooping under the heat of his hands. “I don’t know what you mean.”

The arch of your eyebrow deepened, and you drew back slightly, as much as you could manage in the cage of his arms. “Din,” you said shortly.  

Silence stretched between you for a breath, the two of you simply staring at one another, tacitly waiting for the other to capitulate and change the subject. But you would not allow him to best you in this. Eventually, it was him that offered a soft, tentative confession.

“I’m…restless,” he admitted, breaking your gaze to stare down at his boots. “I don’t like the idea of just…sitting around. I’d rather keep moving.”

You nodded in understanding. “I get that. Trust me, I’m not very good at doing nothing, either. But let’s just…” You trailed off, searching for the right words. “Let’s just try. For a few days. Please.”

The Mandalorian glanced back up at you at that, and you could see your own face – the bags under your eyes, the chaotic strands of hair clinging to your forehead, the weary shine of your eyes – reflected back at you in his visor. Your clothes were rumpled, your scarf stained with sweat. You looked, if possible, even more exhausted than you felt.

“We’ve been running at lightspeed for weeks,” you continued. “I’m completely spent. And I would bet if you held still for more than a couple of seconds, you’d feel it, too.”

The shoulders beneath your hands stiffened at your words. “That’s the life I live,” he replied gruffly.

“That’s the life you’ve chosen to live,” you corrected immediately. “But right now, maybe for the first time, there’s no Guild Agent beating down your door, there’s no quarry to chase, there’s no covert to provide for.” Offering him a gentle smile, you slipped one hand up to cradle his beskar cheek. “You don’t have to be…the Mandalorian right now. Right now, you get to just be Din Djarin. And Din Djarin is a human man. Who needs food. And water. And sleep. Just like the rest of us.”

Din was quiet then, though you could swear you could hear the gears in his mind turning as he processed your words. You could sense the battle within him – who he had been before Grogu, before you at war with the man he had become in the time since. The old Din Djarin was a lone ranger, a rolling stone, a clan of one; rigid, impassive, uncompromising. His drive to keep moving, to keep working, to keep surviving had been as much a part of the core of him as his Creed.

Who was this new Din Djarin? You could feel the question even through the silence.

Taking pity on him, you gathered both of his hands in yours, pulling them from your body and instead pressing soft kisses to them, one for each ridge of knuckles hidden beneath thick leather. “Tell you what. Why don’t we get cleaned up, and then we can go downstairs and take a walk through the market? Replenish some of the supplies we lost, then go from there?”

After a moment’s hesitation, the bounty hunter nodded. “All right, cyare,” he agreed. Resignation colored his tone, and you felt your smile widen in triumph. “Go get the water started. I’ll join you in a minute.”

---

You hardly remembered stripping down to your skin as the shower heated up, could not recall leaving your dirty clothes crumpled in a pile in the corner of the ‘fresher as you climbed in and immediately dunked yourself under the stream of too-hot water. It was all done on autopilot, your body moving on inertia alone as your mind raced, echoing with Din’s words.

I’ll join you in a minute.

Join you.

In the ‘fresher? In the shower?

You had left the lights off just in case, though admittedly you weren’t certain it would do much to prevent you from seeing his face should he decide to climb in under the spray with you. There was a small window paned with thick, warped glass cut into the far wall, and late afternoon Nevarran sunlight filtered through it, leaving the room dim but hardly dark. Plenty to see by with hardly a squint.

As you scrambled into the stall, you draped your scarf around the shower door handle as a backup. Another just in case.

Lost in thought, you went through the motions of your routine. Unwinding your braid, soaking the long strands until they weighed heavily on your shoulders, fumbling for the anonymous bottle of generic shampoo that had come stocked with the unit. You kept your eyes on the wall of the stall in front of you, your back to the shower door, and you tried not to let your hands tremble.

It had been so long since Din had touched you, so long since he had bent you over the rickety bunk on Boba’s ship and sent you rocketing through the stars. So much had happened since then, and in the intervening time, there had been days where this side of you had felt so far away, so out of reach it felt almost alien. But no longer. Your skin prickled under the steaming spray, seemingly impervious to the heat of the water now that another heat had reawakened in your belly. It simmered there, a creature stretching and preening after a long slumber, a thing that only Din had ever managed to draw out of you.

You had never wanted anyone the way you wanted him, and that want burned so brightly you could feel the space between your thighs begin to throb at the mere suggestion that it might be satisfied.

Distantly, you heard the hiss of the ‘fresher door sliding open followed by the rhythmic thud of heavy boots. You swallowed thickly as the door slid shut again, as soft clinks joined the sound of rustling fabric. It was like…metal on tile.

Like beskar being peeled off of a flight suit and stacked neatly on the floor.

You pressed your palms to the cool wall of the shower stall, holding yourself steady as you felt your knees begin to tremble with nerves you could not control. You hadn’t even been this anxious the first time you had fucked him – on the contrary, that experience had left you soaring with confidence. What could possibly have you in such a state this time, you wondered?

A brief rush of cool air swept into the shower stall behind you, dissipating the thick cloak of steam that surrounded you and blooming goosebumps across your shoulder blades.

You said nothing, the only sound you made the deep, centering breath you drew as a pair of broad, tanned hands appeared over the swell of your hips. Before you could shiver away the sudden chill of the open stall, the door closed again, and a strong, masculine body pressed tight to your back. His heat bled into you instantly, and you could not stifle the moan that dripped from your mouth as you leaned back into his embrace.

“Shab. I’ve missed you, mesh’la,” Din murmured, voice low and coarse as he pressed his face into the bend of your neck. Against your damp skin, you felt a pair of pillowy lips caress you. You felt scratchy, uneven stubble – longer than the last time you had seen it – drag against your pulse point. You felt the tip of a prominent, aquiline nose tuck into the space behind your ear and breathe you in.

The Mandalorian had, once again, taken his helmet off. On instinct, your eyes fell closed.

“Din,” you gasped weakly, hand flying up to thread your fingers into his hair, holding him to you. Maker, he felt good against you, his skin hot and smooth, his kisses along your neck wet and sucking. The sensation had your knees softening beneath you, and you were grateful for your grip on the wall and his clutch on your hips keeping you on your feet.

“S’all right. You can open your eyes. Ni liser nu haaranovor teh gar tug'yc.” Hands drifting to your stomach, your ribcage, your breasts, Din pulled you deeper into his embrace. You could feel the thick, warm hardness of him pressed against the small of your back, the heavy weight of his balls soft against your ass. “I won’t hide from you anymore. I refuse.”

A whimper worked its way out of your throat at his words. “Y-You’re sure? I won’t l-look, I swear,” you panted, grinding the globes of your ass cheeks instinctually against his cock like a Loth-cat in heat.

The bounty hunter groaned, his fingers digging sharply into your flesh to keep you still, and the sound vibrated through your body like the roll of thunder. “I know you wouldn’t. My sweet girl. I’m sure.” Using his grip on you to spin you around, you quickly found yourself backed up against the shower wall. Still, your eyes remained squeezed tightly shut as he continued, “It can be…permissible show one’s face. Within the bonds of the riduurok.”

Riduurok. You knew that word. It meant –

Your eyes snapped open, and instantly, your field of vision was filled with nothing but him. Broad, tanned, freckled shoulders. Dark brown curls clinging to his forehead. Deep brown eyes, round and earnest and tender, brimming with love, burning with desire. Your beautiful bounty hunter, somehow even more breathtaking than you remembered.

“Marriage,” you translated breathlessly. “Riduurok is…marriage.”

Din nodded once. “Yes.”

A wave of emotion rose up in your throat, and you struggled to swallow. “We aren’t married.”

“No,” he conceded. “But my intentions have not changed. Have yours?”

You were shaking your head before he had even finished his question. “Of course not.” Your voice sounded tremulous, a bit frantic to your own ears. “I just… I couldn’t stand it if you regretted this. I don’t want you to look back at this tomorrow and not be able to put your helmet back on fast enough.”

A flash of guilt sparked in his dark eyes then, and his proud shoulders fell slightly as he dropped his gaze to the floor. You knew he was remembering that morning on Gideon’s cruiser, the disappointment on your face as he explained that taking his helmet off the day before had been an exception.

“I can’t bear to be the thing that drives you to break your Creed, over and over again.” Bringing your hands up to his face, you cradled his cheeks in your palms, savoring the feel of his beard against your skin, forcing him to meet your gaze. “So I need you to be certain. Is this what you want, ner kar’ta? To be like this…with me?”

Din cupped your face in return, the two of holding each other in mirrored poses under the steaming water. “With you and only you,” he promised. “Forever, cyare.”

And then his lips descended on yours, and you swallowed a moan as he gathered you into his arms and bore you back against the shower wall.

---

You got yourselves clean in fits and spurts, between long stretches of deep, wet kisses, fervent gropes, and tantalizing caresses. Din toyed with your breasts while you rinsed your hair, kneading them firmly, trapping your nipples between his fingers, teasing and plucking and tugging until they ached and you couldn’t stifle the needy whines in your throat. When it was his turn to wash himself, you pressed yourself along his back, reaching around his body to stroke his cock with one hand and cradle his balls with the other. You dodged rivulets of soap that streamed down his back as you pressed kisses to his spine, and he shivered beneath your touch. Hot and heavy in your hands, the tip of him leaked and dripped over your skin only for the slickness to immediately wash away under the rush of the showerhead.  

The moment the last of the soap bubbles had disappeared down the drain, the Mandalorian turned off the shower and threw open the stall door.

“Bed,” he growled. The sound reached deep inside you, tugging on your nerve endings and sending a rush of fresh wetness to the apex of your thighs. “Now.”

You paid no heed to the water you trailed behind you as you burst through the ‘fresher door and staggered into the single bedroom. Din was hot on your heels, crowding up behind you as you went so that by the time you reached the foot of the large bed, he needed less than a second to reach around you, snag ahold of the downy-white blankets that dressed it, and fling them onto the floor.

With a breathless laugh, you spun around, the backs of your calves hitting the mattress as you collapsed onto the bed. You reached for him the second your back hit the sheets, fingers scrabbling urgently over his smooth, wet skin, but there was no need; he went to you willingly, clambering atop you with little encouragement. The weight of him was grounding, the give of his belly and the corded strength of his limbs keeping you anchored to the moment.

“Cyar’ika.” The tender, lilting word vibrated against your skin, tripped down your nerves as his teeth dragged along your collarbone. Goosebumps broke out along your skin, and you arched into his touch, hands in his dripping curls tugging him down, down, down to the swell of your breasts. His stubble teased your skin there, making you squirm, pulling a little giggle from your throat, but the giggle quickly morphed into a moan as his lips locked around one of your nipples.  

“Din!” you panted. Your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling a groan from him, which he smothered against the pillow of your flesh. You could feel your clit swell and throb in time with the coaxing swipes of his tongue, your nipple now impossibly hard and pebbled in a way that had you squirming beneath him, begging for pressure, for friction, anything to soothe the ache that pulsed between your thighs. “Please. Need you.”

As always, it seemed that the Mandalorian knew your body better than you did. In an instant, he had slotted his knee between your legs, adjusting his weight so that he could press himself right up against the place where you needed him most.

“M’right here, sweet girl. Not going anywhere.”

Your hips moved without your direction, grinding into the delicious pressure the moment it arrived. Maker, the heft and the hardness of his thigh felt incredible against your swollen cunt, and though you had to work for it, it was giving you everything you needed as Din’s soft, sucking kisses traveled across your chest, to the hollow of your throat, to the vulnerable patch of skin beneath your ear where your pulse raced.

“Shab,” he groaned, pressing his forehead to yours, panting into your open mouth. “Can feel how bad you want it. You’re soaking me, mesh’la.”

You bit back a whimper, eyelids fluttering as you nodded. “You feel so good,” you assured him. “Always want you, always.”

Sealing his lips over yours, you felt your core tremble at the heat of his tongue, the plushness of his mouth, the force of his kiss. Against your hip, his cock pulsed and leaked, leaving hot, slick trails of precum across your skin, and you swore saliva pooled under your tongue at the sensation. You wanted to taste him, to feel the warmth and the weight of him in your mouth. You wanted to hear him groan and curse as the thick, broad head of him breached your throat, as your nose pressed into his dark curls. You wanted him to need – just as badly as you needed – and you wanted to be the one to make it happen.

Pressing your palms into his chest, wrenching your mouth away from his, you breathed, “Roll over. On your back.”

To your surprise, he obeyed in an instant, and for the first time, you felt a surge of gratefulness for the size of the bed. Such a move would never have been possible in the narrow bunk on the Razor Crest or in the dusty bounty cell on Boba’s Firespray. Scrambling over him, you nudged his legs further apart and kneeled on the mattress between them.

Lower lip trapped coquettishly between your teeth, you braced your hands on his thick thighs and leaned over him. Long, damp strands of your hair cascaded over your shoulders, the ends dancing over his stomach in a way that had the muscles there jumping. You paid them no heed, instead nuzzling the tip of your nose and the round of your cheek against the underside of his hard, flushed cock.

“Hold my hair back, ner kar’ta?” you asked softly as you dragged your tongue across his glistening head.

Din threw his head back with a grunt, broad hands sinking instantly into your hair. He fisted the locks back from your face, holding them close to the root, tugging at your scalp, and you whined at the bolt of white-hot lightning that licked down your spine at the gesture. You didn’t have it in you to tease him any more after that; pulling a deep breath in through your nose, you drew him into your mouth and began to suck.

“Haar’chak!”

The curse echoed through the empty apartment as you smothered your answering grin against his dense, dark curls. You loved him like this – impossibly hard, flushed and hot, heavy and pulsing and tasting of fresh, clean skin and slick, salty man. You loved the way his hips hitched upward, seeking more of your warmth, more of your wet, and you loved the way he stopped himself from pushing you too far, even if he clearly wanted to. You loved the grip of his hands on the back of your head, the way they grounded you to the moment. You even loved the ache in your jaw as you worked yourself over him, knowing you’d suffer much worse to hear him make those low, breathless little groans and know that you were the cause.

It was a privilege getting to watch a man like him fall apart at the seams. To be the one responsible? Just the thought had your racing heartbeat traveling from your chest to your cunt.

It didn’t take long for the fall to begin – didn’t take more than a handful of minutes to have the Mandalorian trembling beneath you, the muscles in his thighs clenching under your hands, his fingers tightening painfully around your hair as he attempted to anchor himself in the maelstrom. A premature thrill of victory coursed through you at the feeling, and you swallowed sloppily around the thickness of him once more before letting him spring from your mouth.

“Taste so good, Din,” you whimpered, dragging your tongue against his leaking tip to drink down another glistening pearl of precum.

A deep, rumbling sound gritted its way out from between his clenched teeth, and you glanced up to watch the tendons in his neck strain as he tried in vain to collect himself. “Can’t say stuff like that,” he panted. “This’ll be over before it even starts.”

You felt a wicked smirk curl your lips and lapped at him again, a teasing little kitten lick that had his hips flexing desperately in search of more. “I’m sure you’d make it up to me.”

With a shake of his head and a weak smile, the bounty hunter released his hold on your hair, letting it tumble back down around your shoulders. “Not happening, cyar’ika. Now get up here before I sit you on my cock myself.”

Stars. A rush of heat flooded your body at his words, an answering wetness dampening your inner thighs, and you scrambled gracelessly from your crouch between his knees. As it had been from the moment you met, you were at his mercy, though now you reveled in it, for you knew he was just as weak to you as you were to him.

His hands came up to cup your hips as you knelt over him, fingers digging deep enough to bruise as you dragged your dripping slit against the thick ridge of his cock – soaking him, making him moan, catching the plush tip of his head against your swollen, throbbing clit. But just as you had worked him up to desperation, you had done the same to yourself, and you found you could not bear to tease yourself for long. Reaching down between your legs, you wrapped your fingers around the base of him, gave him a couple firm strokes, and notched the tip of him against your entrance.

His name was a pitiful whine on the back of a sob as you sank down onto him, felt him stretch you, fill  you, somehow feeling deeper and thicker than ever before. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realized this was the first time you had taken him without his fingers to prepare you first, and you could feel the difference – it felt as if he was splitting you open, carving you in two, hollowing out a place for himself deep inside your body, and your muscles trembled and quivered at the harsh demand. It stung, but Maker, did you hunger for it.

“Thaaaaat’s it,” Din growled, watching you with heavy-lidded, blown-pupil eyes. “Look at you. You’re so beautiful like this.”

“Fuck, it’s – it’s – Din. So much.” The pathway between your brain and your mouth seemed to have deteriorated, every word coming out quavering and half-slurred, but your lack of coherence only seemed to spur him on.

“S’okay, cyare. You can do it.” He nodded slowly, encouragingly, using his grip on you to coax a roll of your hips. “Puhoi bal pakod. Slow. Nice and steady.”

The shift of him inside you, the way he dragged against your walls had your jaw dropping open and your eyes falling shut. You needed more immediately. Before you could fully wrap you mind around what was happening, you found yourself rocking against him again, again, again – back and forth, up and down, rocking him deeper, faster into you, dragging your hard little clit against his pubic bone, digging your nails into his chest for support, moaning and gasping as you went.

Through your blurred vision and frayed awareness, you could sense the Mandalorian practically melting beneath you – head dropping back limply, sinking deeper into the now-damp mattress, hands ghosting lightly over your hips to your waist to your breasts to your ass to your thighs, all the while murmuring faint encouragements under his breath as you rode.

So good for me, keep going, mesh’la, take what you need from me, that’s it, just take it, it’s yours, don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop…

“Din!” You could feel it building at the base of your spine, could feel your muscles starting to coil in your abdomen. Gods, every time you came down on him, he pounded that soft, elusive spot inside you, making you shake, making you drip. Sweat glistening on your skin, you felt yourself become almost slippery under his hands, the exertion mixing with the dampness of the shower and leaving you shining in the late afternoon sun. Your hips and thighs burned, unused to the strain, but you couldn’t slow, couldn’t stop, couldn’t think of giving in now. You were so close – he was going to make you –

As though reading your mind, the bounty hunter rasped through gritted teeth, “You’re right there, aren’t you? Go on.” He nodded, eyes locked on yours, dark hair clinging to his forehead with his own sweat. “S’okay, I’ve got you, m’right here. Let it happen.”

It occurred to you then that he was watching you fall apart, that his gaze was making note of every facial expression, every bead of sweat, every clenched muscle that rippled across your body, as you were sure he had done so many times before. But just now, right here, was the first time you were getting to watch him. No helmet, no pitch-dark room, no blindfold – nothing stood in the way of you getting to watch the man you loved hold on to the ragged edges of his sanity while you took him for all he was worth. Even in the midst of your hunger and your need, your heart stuttered at the intimacy of it.

You could see each other – really and truly. Fuck, you loved him –

“Yes!” you gasped, seizing up around him. “Yes, yes, fuck, Din, I’m – ”

And then you were gone – flung over the edge of the precipice with a shout, bearing down on his cock as you trembled and throbbed and leaked more of your wetness all over his lap. It smeared under you, slicking the hair at the base of his shaft, gathering in the little creases at the joints of his legs.

Distantly, you could hear a long stream of curses in Mando’a spilling into the air. “Shabshabshabshab. That’s it, sweetheart, that’s it. Feel so good coming all over me like that, such a good girl.”

Every word sent a little spasm through you, delicate aftershocks tripping down your raw, ruined nerves and making you shiver. They left you feeling weak – muscles slack and bones wobbly in the aftermath of your pleasure. You wanted nothing more than to collapse onto the bed beside him in a spineless heap, but no. You refused to abandon him now, not when he was still so impossibly hard inside you, not when he was still smothering low-register grunts as he tried desperately not to flip you onto your back and take what he needed from you.

Instead, you gently slumped forward onto his chest, pressing your tits against his skin and threading your fingers into his hair. “Your turn, ner kar’ta,” you murmured breathlessly against the underside of his jaw. You sucked on the skin there briefly, tasting the salt of him on your tongue. “I’m all yours. Let me feel you cum.”

Your permission was all he needed. In the span of a heartbeat, Din shifted beneath you, bringing his feet up to press firmly into the surface of the mattress, dropping his hands to the globes of your ass, and using his newfound leverage to thrust up into you with a force you hadn’t prepared for. You let out a sharp, surprised yelp, and you could have sworn the bounty hunter laughed in response.

It didn’t take much after that – a few deep, quick, powerful thrusts from below, his big hands steadying you above him as you buried your face in his neck, and then his hips were stuttering, his cock was pulsing, and a bloom of warmth spilled deep inside you. Your name was on his lips as he came – your real name, one he rarely called you but that sounded so sweet on his lips you almost wished he would use it more often.

You felt the curve of his mouth on your brow as he came back down, the scruff of his beard and the bristles of his mustache catching in your hair as he pressed a weak kiss to your skin, and when you looked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes, you treasured the rare sight of his crooked, fucked-out smile. You weren’t sure you would ever get used to how beautiful your Mandalorian was, but you hoped that perhaps now, with his newfound resolution, you might actually have the opportunity to find out.

---

It was well after dark that first night before the two of you managed to make it down to the market for dinner. Only a small handful of vendors remained open, so you made do with a modest selection of fresh fruit and the last loaf of bread from a baker’s stall down the block. You ate your meager meal naked in bed, the sheets beneath you still cool and damp from your post-shower romp. Despite the lack of glamor, it was easily the most hedonistic moment of your life, and you felt certain you would remember it fondly even when you were old and gray.

The following week you spent in Karga’s loaned apartment was bittersweet. On the one hand, you and Din had never been closer, and your relationship flourished now that you finally had a moment to focus on one another without other competing priorities. You spent long hours lounging on the couch in the living room or curled up in bed together, talking and napping and touching as you pleased. You told him about your childhood on Chardaan, about your parents, about the bad deal that landed your grandfather in the debt of Orron Halcard’s father. You told him about the morning after your eighteenth birthday, the day Orron came to your home to call in the last of that debt. And you told him how you worked for seven years to pay it off, and when you went to him after the final day of your servitude, instead of signing the documents that would have released you from your indenture, Orron destroyed all record of your years of service and instead fitted you with a cortical tracker to keep you from running away.

In return, Din told you what little he remembered of his childhood on Aq Vetina. He told you of his years in the Fighting Corps on Concordia, of his time traveling with another Mandalorian – a man he referred to only as his “mentor,” for whom he served as an apprentice. He told you of finding the Nevarran covert, of the decades he had spent building up his reputation in the Outer Rim as a fierce, efficient bounty hunter, all the while nurturing the growth and prosperity of his hidden community with contributions from his earnings. And he confessed how lonely he had been, all those years making his way through the galaxy alone – that he had not even known he was lonely until Grogu came along.

And therein laid the “bitter” part. The absence of Grogu was like a physical thing – big and tender and painful and always present, no matter how much good food you discovered in town or how many different surfaces Din fucked you on around the apartment. You found yourself sinking hours into ruminating about him, wondering whether he and the Jedi had gotten to their destination safely, whether he was being properly cared for, whether he was happy. You wondered whether this Jedi had picked up on his love of frogs, whether he knew how much the boy liked to be held and carried and rocked to sleep. You wondered whether the Jedi laughed and played with him, whether he sang him songs or told him stories. When you found yourself in one of these moods, you had to reassure yourself that he would, he did, he was; otherwise you surely would have demanded that Din find where that strange man had taken your little boy and made him book transport there immediately.

As it was, you knew you could never ask such a thing of Din. He kept his feelings about the entire ordeal rather close to his chest, but he had shared enough for you to know that he was struggling, as well – perhaps even more than you. So you knew you could not tempt him. You didn’t know if he would have the strength to refuse you.

As one week on Nevarro became two, the both of you began to grow restless. Though neither of you broached the topic, you knew the time of your departure was imminent, as Din had slowly started to use portions of his reward money from Gideon to restock his arsenal of armaments, first aid supplies, and deep space-friendly foodstuffs. You chose to take your cue from him and spent a sunny afternoon replacing the small wardrobe you had lost in the Razor Crest’s destruction, as well as putting together a rudimentary toolkit, which you could take with you to job sites should the opportunity arise. By the end of the second week, it was clear that both of you were as prepared as you could be to venture out beyond the safe haven of Nevarran space once again.

It was late when you finally worked up the courage to ask the question, the two of you lounging in bed in nothing but your skin, the holoprojector running old episodes of Knights of the Old Republic softly in the background. Turning onto your side, you took in the sight of your Mandalorian in his most vulnerable state – bare and open-faced, eyes half-lidded and sleepy as he watched the holovid with lazy interest. Loathe to disrupt his peace, it took you a moment to swallow and say, “When we were on the Firespray…you mentioned wanting to try to find the remainder of your covert. To look for your armorer.”

Din glanced over at you, a single brow arching as he took in your anxious expression. “Yes. Is that still something you’re interested in?”

“Of course,” you were quick to assure him. “Your covert is your family, Din. If you want to look for them, I’ll help however I can.”

“And…what I said about wanting the seek the naur’alor’s blessing. For us.” He paused then, and you saw the moment he pieced it together – the reason you seemed so uncomfortable mentioning what he had said on the Firespray all those weeks ago. His brows drew up, concern coloring his dark gaze. “Is…that something you still want?”

You nodded. “I want to be your wife someday. Your riduur. And if getting her blessing means we could make that happen, when we’re ready, then yes, that’s something I want.”

The bounty hunter seemed to consider that for a moment, the deep wrinkles between his prominent brows growing even more pronounced as he thought. After a beat, he rolled over onto his side, his posture matching yours as he propped his head up on his fist. “The naur’alor is my Tribe’s spiritual leader,” he explained. “She is the keeper of our culture, the custodian of the Creed. Her word is law. Her blessing would give us…legitimacy. And it would grant you privileges as Mando’ad – protections that I can’t give you all on my own.”

Breaking his gaze, your eyes flicked to the wrinkled sheets between you. You could not bear to look at him as you gave voice to your next question – the fear that had swirled in the back of your mind since Din had first proposed this idea.

“And what if… What if she says no? What if she rejects me?”

A broad, tanned, calloused hand appeared under your chin, tucking his fingers under your jaw and urging you to look up at him once more. “To reject you would be to reject me,” he said earnestly. “Where you go, I go. We are bonded, cyare, in all but name.”

“But if she does. I can’t ask you to give up your culture – your people – for me, Din. I won’t do that to you.”

“You aren’t,” he insisted, caressing your jaw soothingly with the pad of his thumb. “She will understand. You and I are…unprecedented. But the naur’alor is wise. She is good. I can’t believe she would turn us away.”

The pure, unyielding faith in his voice made your heart clench in your chest. You wished you could trust the way he did, but if your time with Boba, Koska, and Bo-Katan had taught you anything at all, it was that there were clearly multiple interpretations of the tenants of the Creed. There was more than one approach to walking the Way, and it seemed that your bounty hunter had been raised among only the strictest of zealots.

The nagging feeling at the back of your mind that this armorer might be a more formidable challenge than Din expected simply would not leave you alone. You could only hope he was prepared for the possibility.

“Whatever she says, I want you to know that I’m with you,” you promised, laying your hand across the back of his, cupping him to you. “For as long as you want me, I’m all yours.”

He grinned then, a wry thing that curled the corners of his soft, plush lips. “I’ll always want you, gotabor’ika,” he murmured. “Darasuum. Forever.”

Emotion swelling in your chest, urging you forward, you kissed that grin with all the tenderness and love that threatened to spill from you at his devoted confession. In return, he cradled you like you were something precious, traced the seams of your lips with his tongue like you were something to be savored. You were flushed and thoroughly breathless by the time you managed to pull away.

“Okay then,” you breathed, tracing the tip of your nose along his to press your foreheads together. “Let’s go find your covert.”

---

Mando'a Translations:

ner kar'ta - my heart cyare - beloved shab - fuck mesh'la - beautiful Ni liser nu haaranovor teh gar tug'yc - roughly translated "I will not hide from you anymore" riduurok - a Mandalorian marriage agreement cyar'ika - darling, sweetheart haar'chak - damn it Puhoi bal pakod - literally translated "slow and easy" naur'alor - smith, craftsman, specifically a metalsmith that works with beskar. It's a title that's called out in the Kyr'tsad Mando'ad, a manifesto of the Death Watch and is later recognized in the book The Bounty Hunter's Code by Boba Fett. Given the Children of the Watch's connection to Death Watch, this felt like an appropriate formal title for the Armorer riduur - spouse, gender neutral term gotabor'ika - "little engineer" darasuum - forever

Notes:

For those of you who have been with me throughout this story, thank you. It means more to me than words can say. It's been a year and a half-long labor of love, and I'm so proud to have finished it. I plan to come back to these two in the future - maybe a string of connected oneshots - but until then, ret'urcye mhi.

[dreamingofyeo]

𓏲๋࣭ ࣪ A siren's song࿐࿔𖦹ִ

Chapter 6: Passage of hope ࿐࿔𖦹ִ

~ details in masterlist

~ playlist

~ 1,372 words

~ chapter warnings: none

~☆彡 tumblr's algorithm works off of reblogs so please consider it if you like my work :)

Playlist song key

🕸️ambush

🕯️rain

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yeosang pov

The appearance of the blue bird had been the first indication, it resurfacing in the market had been confirmation. San at the bar had been a beacon of hope, his magical healing gifts no match for any petty potion Vervona could acquire. Mingi and Wooyoung in the shadows had been the trigger in their plan. My crew, they finally found me. A single subtle nod toward San was all they needed to act first and ask questions later regarding rescuing my new friend with me.

As the arms I recognise as Jongho’s wrap under my own I can’t help but grin. The sharp inhale of breath to my left an indication of a scream about to escape, I clamp my hand over her mouth and she thankfully takes the hint. With that, Jongho and, to take a guess Yunho, pull us from our seats and down the hidden trapdoor beneath the rug. To be fair to her, when the elixir arrived in front of us, all it took was as a pointed look for her to take the hint, she’ll fit right in.

~🕸️

The shouting and gunshots continue above our heads as the trap door closes and is jammed shut by Jongho with a strategic placement of some kind of plank. There’ll be time for reunions later, for now we’ve got to move.

We begin to run down the passage way, carefully placing our steps in the darkness. My new friend, obviously not called Cara Jones, grasps my wrist and pulls me to a stop, speaking in a flurry of panic. I can just make out her features in the darkness; they’re paralysed in a state of shock and fear, yet when her eyes meet my own they somehow soften.

“Yeosang, who? Where-“

“My crew, there’s no time to explain right now we need to move.”

I feel bad for cutting her off, but she’ll thank me for the time saved on explanation later. With that, we begin running again. The sounds of gunshots are fading now, thankfully.

The tunnel goes on for what feels like forever, it must be an old smugglers passage, I hope she’s not afraid of spiders, there are cobwebs undoubtedly all over us by this point.

I call out to my crew members, the relief evident.

“Yunho, Jongho how the hell-“

It’s my turn to be cut off now apparently.

“No time for that right now Sangie, save it for Capt’n.”

Yunho clips back excitedly. Jongho laughs under his breath.

The sliver of light in the ceiling at what must be the end of the passage brings with it all the hope imaginable. Upon reaching it, Yunho delivers 1 firm knock followed by 2 scrapes of his dagger; the exit trap door opens and as I look up I see the face of my Captain’s first mate. Park Seonghwa.

~🕯️

He spares a moment to smirk down at me, shaking his head as he laughs into his chest before extending a rope down. I look over at my friend, she is looking at me with an expression akin to relief. I stifle a chuckle when she registers the cobwebs coating her and her features morph into horror. She frantically gestures and pleads with her eyes for me to swipe them away, I do so gladly. Yunho and Jongho gesture for me to take a hold of the rope, and so I do.

After a minor struggle we all get safely out of the passage, resealing and camouflaging the trap door. When satisfied, I look at my surroundings, we’re in a secluded dune on a beach. Palm trees reach high above us, effectively hiding our forms from the worst of the sun’s unforgiving rays.

Seonghwa’s voice snaps me out of the momentary daze. His tone thick with the kind of authority I’ve taken for granted all these years, a tone I’ve missed dearly.

“The Illusion is about 10 minutes from here, had to hide her in a cove. Let’s move. You can explain our extra crew member to Hongjoong when we’ve put some distance between us and the Crimson.”

“Aye.”

The contrast in emotions from now to the last I spoke that word is immense, and reminds me again how much I’ve missed everything.

I can’t help but grin at him, before gesturing to my friend to follow. I really hope she entrusts me with her real name soon.

The slow trudge through the sand feels even longer than the passage, not for the distance, for the anticipation. Seeing the ship’s billowing white sails after so long is a feeling I fear I will never be able to do justice to with words. I’m home.

The feeling of climbing aboard tops that; setting my feet down upon those all familiar planks, they creak as if to say ‘welcome back’.

Readers POV

The amount of emotions which have coursed through your body in the past 20 minutes is beyond description, terror and confusion taking centre stage. These pirates are different though, they’re Yeosang’s crew. If he trusts them then you will at least attempt to.

The door to the main cabin swings open and the remainder of Yeosang’s crew run to you all- or more specifically to him. Though you’re now stood rather awkwardly to the side, you’re more than happy to watch the scene of such pure chaos and joy unfold.

A man with hair similar to the navigator’s in length bounds over like a puppy and practically tackles him to the deck. You can already tell he will be a lot to handle simply from the positively manic expression across his countenance. His sheiks of excitement sounding across the deck remind you of seagulls, you suppress a chuckle at the thought. Yeosang’s muffled greeting into his shoulder makes you smile just as wide as the man though. From this, you learn his name to be ‘Wooyoung’.

Another - the man from the bar you suddenly realise, shows some level of restraint. His eyes and soft despite his wide smile. He opts to simply rest a hand upon Yeosang’s shoulder before crushing him in another hug when he’s released from his first. You catch his name too, it is ‘San’.

A third man ducks out of the cabin, black hair cropped close to his head with the top framing his face. His face changes from stern and intimidating to the very picture of happiness, his smile wide and crinkling at his eyes. There is a long gun of some sort across his back, he must be responsible for the lanterns going out. He doesn’t bother to wait, instead opting for a group hug- to which Wooyoung eagerly joins. The final choked greeting from Yeosang informs you that his name is ‘Mingi’.

One last man exits the cabin, his posture leaking with authority. Though he wears no signature hat, he must be the captain. The others back away from Yeosang and give them space for a more formal reunion, after a firm hand shake the captain also wraps him in a warm embrace.

The man you assumed to be the captain steps away and observes his crew with a content smile before speaking up. His tone is loud and authoritative, yet unable to mask the sheer happiness emanating from him even if he wanted to.

“Now then men.”

Everyone instantly settles down, you could swear even from the distance apart you were that there are tears in Yeosang’s eyes. His smile settles from wide and gleeful until it is almost akin to a pout, holding back whilst receiving word from his captain.

“We’ve achieved our mission. But before we can celebrate our reunion, we need a little distance. So, to your stations.”

He smiles kindly at Yeosang who practically hops skips and jumps to the cabin where you assume the maps to be held, he pulls himself up though and beckons for you to follow.

Before you reach him, you feel a hand close over your shoulder.

“We will address the elephant in the room when we’re at a safe distance, his safety is my priority right now.”

Though laced with kindness and reassurance, you feel a shiver go down your spine at the captain’s words…

<-chapter 5 ~ chapter 7->

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist (open)

@baek-at-it-again95 @amalialoved @lilactangerine

@vampzity @edenesth

[burnwater13]

Image depicts a head shot of Migs Mayfeld in a black turtleneck and dark green shirt, the Mandalorian wearing an Imp Transport Pilot helmet while being scanned by a computer system security device, and Din Djarin's face, as he is being scanned by the same security device. Caption reads: Seems to me like your rules start to change when you get desperate. - Migs Mayfeld. Images from The Mandalorian, Season 2, Episode 7, The Believer. Calendar by DateWorks.

Grogu blamed himself. He’d asked the question. He didn’t have to. It wasn’t critical information needed to safe guard his friends and family. It wasn’t even interesting information, as things turned out. It was just information. Boring, irrelevant, tedious information that did nothing but confirm that when it came to Migs Mayfeld, Grogu would gladly lump the talkative criminal in the same pile as Moff Gideon, or that guy who hired the Mandalorian to retrieve Grogu from Arvala-7. 

Grogu understood that he might be the only person who lumped that chatterbox in with Imp Warlords trying to reestablish the Empire, but he stood by his opinion. Mayfeld was inherently selfish and that just rubbed Grogu the wrong way. Every time he was mentioned. Even in passing.

He and his dad, the Mandalorian, were just sitting on the porch of their cabin on Nevarro. It was late afternoon and Grogu was tired from chasing frogs and Din Djarin had just told him that their next meal wouldn't be for a couple of hours at least. The Mandalorian was kind of idly fussing with one of his vambraces. The retractable cable wasn’t working quite perfectly perfect. 

Grogu chirped to his dad and once he had the Mandalorian’s attention he signed his question. How did they find the location of Moff Gideon’s ship? Grogu wasn’t sure why that was a question he had. It had kind of popped into his head and he couldn’t ignore it any more than he could ignore it when his stomach was growling from hunger. 

He thought the Mandalorian would be his normally terse self and say something short and to the point. ‘I got the coordinates from a secret Imp base on Morak.’  That’s how he’d answered any number of other questions about things he had done while Grogu was otherwise occupied. He’d described the whole event of taking over the Imp freighter on Trask as ‘I helped the other Mandos out with a problem.’ Accurate and practically free of any encumbering information or data. Grogu had gotten used to responses like that and was lulled into a false sense of security. 

Instead, for whatever reason, the Mandalorian blabbed in detail about how they first went to Nevarro to collect Cara Dune and then they went to Karthon, to their ‘chop fields’ to collect Migs Mayfeld. Then how they convinced Mayfeld to go with them to Morak and help them infiltrate that ‘secret’ Imp base because he had once been an Imp, where Din Djarin had to gain access to an Imp data base using a biometric scan of his face, because Mayfeld couldn’t do it. That’s right! The Mandalorian’s face! That face that he wouldn’t let Grogu even see until five minutes before they were parted for what seemed like forever!

As Grogu was about to launch into a whole lecture about betrayal, trust, family, and all of their allied subjects and sub-topics, the Mandalorian had related Mayfeld’s comment about the Creed that he’d made on their way to the base. 

“Seems to me like your rules start to change when you get desperate.”

Then Grogu felt his head explode. Just a little. But it was enough for him to throw Mayfeld into the Imp despot pile. Imagine him saying that to the Mandalorian? Him! The guy who admitted to being an Imp, like that was some sort of good thing. The guy who then turned to a life of crime. The guy who would never shut up about anything that struck him as incongruous. What did he even know about rules? It was clear to Grogu that Migs Mayfeld had never met a rule that he was willing to consider, let alone actually follow. That guy.

Mayfeld only did things that benefited Mayfeld. Ever. As soon as he thought that he might be recognized by the Imps crawling through the secret base he knew all about, it was over for him. He was too selfish, too desperate, to do anything but save his own skin. Grogu was so annoyed he wanted to track Mayfeld down and kick his shin. A good, solid kick. The sort of thing that made you limp for a couple of hours and reconsider how you’d been living your life. But Grogu couldn’t do that. No matter how much he wanted to, he had a creed that he followed. It reminded him that everyone had faults and the solution to dealing with those faults was not violence, even if kicking someone in the shins wasn’t very violent. 

Nope. You had to consider that no one was the same as anyone else. Everyone had weaknesses and strengths and they differed from person to person. Migs Mayfeld could no more wish to be as brave and fearless as the Mandalorian had been, than Grogu could wish to be as tall as either of the humans. They all had limitations. 

But Grogu didn’t have to like those limitations. He didn’t have to celebrate them. He didn’t have to honor them. He definitely didn’t have to endorse them as a way of life. According to Mayfeld the Empire and the New Republic were just the same, but that was objectively untrue. The people causing problems on Karthon were the same selfish Imps that had messed things up to begin with. The fact that the New Republic hadn’t caught up to them yet had more to do with guys like Mayfeld pretending it was all the same so he could ignore the problem he wouldn’t solve because it might put him at some risk. 

“Grogu. Buddy. Calm down. I get it. But when push came to shove, Mayfeld still helped me get the information I needed to rescue you. All that talk of his is about himself. He’s the guy who changed when things got desperate. Lucky for both of us, it was a change for the better.”

Yeah. Lucky for Mayfeld’s shins.

Mig's Mayfeld, without his helmet on, wearing the body armor of an Imperial Transport Pilot, while driving the transport, speaking to the Mandalorian who is also wearing the body armor of Imperial Transport Pilot, including the helmet, on Karthon. Greenery can be seen out of the window on Mayfeld's side of the vehicle. Caption reads: I don't know. Seems to me like your rules state to change when you get desperate.

Image from The Mandalorian, Season 2, Episode 7, The Believer.

[chipthekeeper]

For Alderaan by ChipTheKeeper

Summary: Cara Dune considers her fate on the way to the Battle of Endor.

A/N: Happy six months to the SW Sapphics! Y'all are the best and I love you. I know this is a controversial pick perhaps for this event, but it only seems appropriate for me since Cara was the character that got me started writing and researching and obsessing about Star Wars, and I’ll forever be sad that we’ll never learn her true backstory. To that end, I’ve tried to imagine a (very) tiny bit (like, embarrassingly short) of what her chapter in the RotJ FACPOV book would’ve been like. Because in another, better universe, she absolutely got one.

(And just a reminder that the author in no way wishes to associate this piece with the former actor who played this role. She is a garbage human and not at all worthy of the character she played. In this house we stan concept art Cara Dune, who was so obviously a lesbian.)

[veradragonjedi]

Blood, Blindfolds and Butterflies Ch21!!!

I've worked out how to embed links are you guys proud of me?

@airlocksandaviaries @positivityjediprince @surfing-on-a-soundwave @materassassino @vanishedangels @idkbishsss @jspookywolf @pebblish @thechaoticfanartist @doublechocolate @insertmeaningfulusername @funkyphonophorae @proftree @athelstan-anglecyning

(tell me if you'd like to be added or removed!)

Me: *imagines Din and Luke tenderly holding hands, Luke's body closer to Din than his armour ever was*

The BBB!Luke Skywalker hand-felted toy on my bedside table, made for me by a close friend: oh, Force, could you imagine??

Me, pulling out my phone and opening up my notes app: oh yeah I seriously could. And I can make a few other people imagine with me.

Tags and other shizz under the cut! New tag -> Co-parents To Lovers!!!

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: The Mandalorian (TV)

Relationships:

Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker, Din Djarin & Cara Dune & Boba Fett & Fennec Shand

Characters:

Luke Skywalker, Din Djarin, Grogu, Leia Organa, Han Solo, Boba Fett, Fennec Shand, Cobb Vanth, Cara Dune, Mention of Ben Solo, R2-D2, Ahsoka Tano

Additional Tags:

Human/Vampire Relationship, Jedi Master Luke Skywalker, Luke Skywalker Needs A Hug, Good Parent Din Djarin, Soft Din Djarin, Alternate Ending, Grogu | Baby Yoda Ships Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Luke trains Din with the Darksaber, Vampire Luke, Post-The Mandalorian (TV) Season/Series 02, R2-D2 hates Din Djarin, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Whump, Mutual Pining, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Blood and Injury, Blood Drinking, Squick, Canon-Typical Violence, violence in general, Falling In Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Suicide Attempt, Friends To Lovers, Hurt No Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, BAMF Luke Skywalker, Only like half the time though, The other half is, Sad Luke Skywalker, Luke Skywalker has PTSD, Luke Skywalker Has ADHD, Autistic Din Djarin, Asexual Din Djarin, Asexual Luke Skywalker, Well theyre both aspec- itll be clearer in the future i swear (Din is demi Luke is grey), Touch-Starved Luke Skywalker, WHOOOOOO, Co-parents To Lovers

Language: English

Words: 102,171 -> Chapters:21/?

[vanishedangels]

Clan of Warriors

Click here for First chapter

Summary: While rebuilding Mandalore, Mand'alor Din Djarin is questioned by his people because of his beliefs and origins. In the dawn of a civil war, the council resolves that The Mand'alor must join in marriage with someone close to Bo-Katan Kryze. He’s forced to marry Koska Reeves and accept a loveless union. In the meantime, Din is having a secret relationship with his son’s Master, Jedi Luke Skywalker, his dream of having his own clan of warriors is about to fade away.

Pairing: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker

Characters: Din Djarin, Luke Skywalker, Grogu, Leia Organa, Cara Dune, Koska Reeves, Bo-Katan Kryze, Axe Woves, OC, Peli Motto, Fennec Shand, Boba Fett, Paz Vizsla, Owen Lars, Beru Whitesun, Han Solo, Chewbacca, Wedge Antilles, The Armorer.

Rating: Explicit (+18)

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence. Explicit Smut.

Tags: Canon Compliant, Post Season 2 Finale, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Friends To Lovers, Fluff, Angst, Demisexual Din Djarin, Top Luke Skywalker, Bottom Din Djarin, Top Din Djarin, Bottom Luke Skywalker, Protective Din Djarin, BAMF Luke Skywalker, Adorable Baby Yoda, Sassy Leia Organa, Gai Bal Manda, Blindfolds, Sub Din Undertones, Fantasies, Jealous Luke, Keldabe Kiss, Smut, Jealous Din, Dirty Talk, Face Reveal, Luke Skywalker in Mandalorian Armour.

Chapters: 39/?

Navigation: <- Previous Chapter • Next Chapter ->

There was a bowl of stew on an improvised table right in the corner, Luke grabbed a small bench dropping himself on it, his feet and knees were killing him as well. He ate his lunch in silence, thinking about Din, thinking about how lonely his man might have felt every time he had to eat alone, no talking, no sharing, and his heart ached "Din." He sighed his name fondly, missing Grogu's chirping noises and the way Din smiled at him every time their eyes met while sitting across the table. Instead, he was now staring at a dull gray wall and the only sounds he heard were the ones coming from himself.

Four days. Four days, Luke.

Chapter 39: Rapture

Din was roused from sleep by a steady soothing sound, he frowned, eyes still closed, he breathed in finally aware of the source of that sound, his ear pressed against Luke's chest, the Jedi's heart beating rhythmically, he smiled realizing their heartbeats were attuned. When he opened his eyes, he glanced at Luke's face, little Jedi was still sleeping, Din had to suppress a chuckle in order to prevent waking his cyare up. He moved his head slightly, squeezing his eyes shut, rubbing his cheek against Luke's skin.

The Jedi's arms were wrapped around his shoulders, the weight of his hands on his back made Din feel safe, loved, protected. He buried his nose in Luke's chest, allowing himself to giggle as the memories of the events of the previous night popped up into his mind, eliciting a silly fluttering sensation in his stomach. He looked at his face again, still remembering the way Luke's lips parted when he started pushing into him, so slowly that Din thought he could implode within seconds. The way Luke swallowed a deep breath until he nodded boring into his eyes as a signal that he was ready and Din pulled out to thrust into him only to feel his heart jumping into his throat as Luke silently opened his mouth making Din imagine the deep gasp he was muffling.

The feeling of Luke clenching around him, the pressure of his heels against his lower back urging Din to thrust deeper, harder, the way little Jedi's back arched, taking him completely, eager to be filled up, Din couldn't last as long as he wanted, but Luke seemed so satisfied when he spilled inside him, and judging by the glint in the blonde's eyes, he was very close as well. Din hardly managed to stroke him, pushing Luke over the edge in a heartbeat.

Din's lips curled up admiring the dimple in his chin, his enticing mouth, even while sleeping Luke looked gorgeous and Din swallowed hard, still mystified by the turn of events that led them to be together in his bed after all that happened. Din's mind was reeling.

"I know you're staring, Din." Little Jedi's voice, thick with sleep, caught him off guard.

Luke opened his eyes smiling and Din's heart started racing faster.

"Also, you're thinking too loud." He smiled moving his hand to stroke Din's hair.

"Morning cyare." He said levering himself up onto his forearms.

Luke hummed closing his eyes "Morning." He stretched himself out with a relaxed expression on his face that Din wanted to remember forever. "Still-" He looked at his eyes pointedly "you are not telling me what is bothering you." The Jedi added arching his brows.

What changed your mind? Why are you here with me? Why did you let me love you? Would you stay forever?

Din had so many questions but he ducked his head, not able to look at Luke's eyes, he kissed the Jedi's chest and he was ready to keep his uncertainty to himself. "You're here, that's all that matters. It's just..." He rested his head on Luke's chest again "I'm missing you already."

He heard the Jedi sigh as he took fistfuls of Din's hair forcing him to look at him "I'm gonna miss you too, but I'll be around." He winked and Din's stomach fluttered again. It was ridiculous how crazy in love he was with Luke, he rested his chin on Luke's pectoral. "In four days this will be over, Din, and we could be together all the time we want." He caressed Din's face reverently "I love you, Din." He sighed, his eyes fixed on his own hand cupping Din's cheek.

Although it was new, Din felt like Luke had been telling him he loved him for months, it didn't mean Din's insides wouldn't melt every time he heard him say it though.

"I love you more." He mumbled running his lips across the Jedi's pecs, completely smitten with him.

He helped Luke put every beskar plate back on, enjoying touching his little Jedi, laughing and kissing him in the process "Shit, fuck... I'm missing you already even more now." Din said under his breath biting Luke's lower lip and then he threaded his fingers through Luke's hair, closing his eyes and pressing their foreheads together.

"Stop or I'm staying, Din." Luke whispered kissing him one last time. He broke apart, frowning and he touched his adorned pauldron "Wait. She said I shouldn't wear this pauldron for now."

Din's stomach churned hating the fact that his cyare couldn't wear their clan signet because of him, because of his leader position, because he owned the darksaber. "I hate this." He said unfastening the ties around Luke's shoulder.

Luke looked down running his fingers over the mudhorn signet.

"I'll keep it for you, babe." Din said absently, holding the pauldron tightly in his hands as he walked towards the bedside cabinet and pulled the drawer open. When he turned around Luke was pressing his lips together, visibly amused, Din could tell he was smiling with his eyes, if that was physically possible. "What?" He lifted one shoulder in a half shrug.

"I just adore when you call me babe..." The Jedi closed the distance between them "Baby..." He ran his hands up and down Din's arms "Cyare." He nibbled at the skin right under Din's jaw making him groan.

"Babe..." He said in a low-pitched voice and Luke tossed his head back exaggerating a shudder. He laughed grabbing him by his hips "Don't make me take your armour off again, Luke." He warned him.

"I'll behave, I promise." He said grinning. "Oh, wait, one last thing... I can't walk around with my lightsaber dangling from my utility belt, but I need it near at hand." He frowned resting his hands on Din's shoulders.

Din blinked a few times and then he held a finger up at his face and started walking away "I'm right back."

Luke turned around staring at his back "Gods, I love when you do that. That thing you do, you know, when you hold your forefinger up."

Din chuckled leaving the bedroom and when he came back, as he gazed at Luke, his face was transfigured with tenderness. The Jedi was cupping his helmet in his hands, completely focused on it, he looked like a child scrutinizing a new plaything, the sight made Din's heart flip. He stood by the door for a while, not able to interrupt him. Then he blinked and cleared his throat, finally walking towards Luke.

The blonde looked at Din and then he lowered his gaze, Din was offering him a brown satchel.

"I used this satchel to carry Grogu with me, I guess... I guess we won't need it. You can take it." He took in a sharp inhale enjoying the way Luke smiled taking the satchel from his hands.

"Thank you, love." He said looking for the lightsaber until he finally found it by the bed leg.

Din took the Jedi's helmet and stood before him, Luke nodded at him, Din leaned in to kiss him and then broke apart to put the helmet back on Luke.

"Don't worry, Din. She will make it in time. Leia is on her way." His voice sounded so deep now, modulated by the helmet.

"I know." Din retorted.

When they were ready, the mandalorian asked Joako to enter the chamber, then he gestured a hand towards Luke "Joako, please take him to the dinner area and introduce him as the new childminder, Grogu's childminder. And afterwards, show him to his bedroom."

"Yes, Your highness, sir." Joako bowed and tilted his head encouraging Luke to follow him. Din tilted his head at Luke as well and he reluctantly stood there, clenching his fists as he watched them leaving the chamber.

~

That noon Bo-Katan walked past Din's chamber front door and she stopped in her tracks turning his head towards the only guard standing by the entrance. She narrowed her eyes tilting her head and Joako didn't make a move, ignoring her completely.

She folded her arms behind her body, staring pointedly at the guard's face, she looked him up and down "Joako." She said "Where's Miko?"

The guard blinked, tongue-tied for a while until he nodded "He's on a recon operation, ma'am." He said flatly not making eye contact with her.

She looked around and then she moved closer to him trying to catch his eyes, but the guard was still elusive "You're telling me that the Mand'alor's personal guard is on a mission... four days before the Royal wedding?" She quirked one eyebrow at him, a fainted smile on her face while talking.

The guard moved his eyes finally looking at her "Yes, ma'am."

She snorted out a laugh and nodded closing her eyes "Right." She said, leaning back and slowly taking a few steps back and tilting her head towards the chamber door.

Joako swallowed hard as the door slid open and she walked into the room, the guard let out a deep sigh and rolled his shoulders back.

~

The Jedi spent the morning cooperating with the cooking staff, he was astonished at the fact that he was really enjoying doing the chores, although it made him a little homesick for his aunt Beru's recipes - his aunt in general actually. He found himself thinking back to Tatooine, secretly longing for those days when everything was simpler, even when Luke was always wishing for more.

They walked him to a small supply room, Luke looked around pressing his lips together behind his helmet "You can have lunch here, no one is gonna bother you. We do respect the children of the watch's creed." The mandalorian cook said, as the majority of the people of Mandalore, he wasn't wearing a helmet. His dark brown eyes fixed on Luke's visor "I heard you and The Armorer came to Mandalore together a couple of days ago. Are you part of The Mand'alor's covert?"

"Yes."

The man frowned and then he took a few steps back closing the door, leaving Luke inside that crowded room. The Jedi took his helmet off sighing relieved, he closed his eyes feeling the air caressing his face for the first time since he left Din's bedroom. His back ached and the muscles of his neck and shoulders were strained to the point he couldn't turn his head to the side without feeling pain, of course Din was used to wearing all that heavy beskar on him, but still Luke found his commitment to the creed, his determination, wondrous.

There was a bowl of stew on an improvised table right in the corner, Luke grabbed a small bench dropping himself on it, his feet and knees were killing him as well. He ate his lunch in silence, thinking about Din, thinking about how lonely his man might have felt every time he had to eat alone, no talking, no sharing, and his heart ached "Din." He sighed his name fondly, missing Grogu's chirping noises and the way Din smiled at him every time their eyes met while sitting across the table. Instead, he was now staring at a dull gray wall and the only sounds he heard were the ones coming from himself.

Four days. Four days, Luke.

When Luke walked into the kitchen area a mandalorian was standing by the entrance, hands folded in front of her body, the woman looked at him.

"Good afternoon, sir, my name is Dentra Kolga. Joako said you're the Mand'alor's son's carer." She squinted staring at Luke's visor.

Luke nodded at her "Childminder." He corrected her eliciting a chuckle from the cook standing by the stove.

"Right, childminder." She nodded back "Well, anyway, it's good to have you here, the little guy needs someone to look after him now that his Master is gone." She added, and her words hit Luke instantly, twisting his stomach into small knots.

She narrowed her eyes pursing her lips "You're not talkative." She tilted her head and Luke sighed behind his helmet. "Come with me, the child needs your presence."

Luke rushed to her side still not saying a word, his heart was thumping inside his chest, eager to see his clan again, they had only been apart for half a day and Luke was already desperate to meet them. As they walked down the main corridor, he realized how uncollected he was feeling, his hair stood on end and something unpleasant settled down in his stomach, afraid of the permanent looming threat of losing the balance, he frowned wondering if he was giving in to unhealthy attachments, he shook his head convincing himself that he was simply and naturally happy to join Grogu and Din again. Maybe uncertainty was washing over him, if that was the case, he knew he was strong enough to deal with his own feelings, he could work on that.

"What's your name, child of the watch?" The woman asked him, breaking his train of thought. They came to a halt by the Mand'alor's chamber door, Joako looked at them with a blank expression on his face.

Fuck. A fake name. Luke widened his eyes behind his helmet, he hadn't thought about that. For the first time in a while, the powerful Jedi was suddenly unable to think of anything appropriate to say, he blinked a few times realizing that she was staring at him, waiting for an answer and his silence was becoming awkward and suspicious.

"Han." He said and immediately regretted it, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his lips together, it was a relief she couldn't see his face at that moment.

"Nice to meet you, Han." Dentra nodded at Joako, the guard knocked on the door and she turned around finally walking away. Luke's body slumped immediately, losing its stiff posture.

"Hi, Joako." He said, happy to see a familiar face.

"Hi, Han." He replied and chuckled making the Jedi huff a laugh.

The door slid open and Bo-Katan emerged from the chamber, she narrowed her eyes staring at Luke "Mand'alor, the childminder is here." She lowered her gaze and then looked at Din over her shoulder, the way Din walked slowly to the door made Luke's heart leap in his chest. Was Din feeling the same? An urge to hold him tightly until their hearts beat as one just like the night before?

"Come in." Din said moving aside, Bo-Katan did the same and as Luke walked inside he noticed she stood rooted on the spot. "Grogu's in his room, there's this council meeting and I need you-" Din paused, his visor finding Luke's, the blonde Jedi understood exactly what he was telling him between the lines, and his lips curled up, hidden behind the secrecy of his helmet "I need you to stay inside this chamber for security reasons. Don't take the child out of this room." Din added. He was standing inches apart from him, Luke could feel heat radiating from him, so soothing and affable, making his skin tickle wonderfully.

Luke nodded and Din remained immobile before him, Bo-Katan cleared her throat trying to draw attention to herself "Shall we, Mand'alor?" She asked, arching an eyebrow.

Din sighed and Luke pressed his lips together in order to suppress a chuckle, he couldn't help finding Din's annoyance simply adorable. Din made a gesture with his hand inviting Luke to walk beside him as he headed to the door, he started talking about Grogu's routine, which was hilarious because Luke knew everything about the child, it was pretty obvious that Din wanted to stay in that chamber with Luke as long as he could.

Bo-Katan left the chamber as Din and Luke came to a halt behind her, their pauldrons almost touching "Bye." Din said and when he started walking out of the room, he brushed his knuckles against Luke's, throwing a glance at him over his shoulder. His touch lingered, electricity rolling in waves between them, sending shivers through Luke's body until Din finally stepped out of the chamber. The Jedi froze, he could feel a growing heat in his chest that rapidly reached his neck and face as his breaths quickened.

The door closed in front of him and he just stood there for a while, not able to make a move, until he heard a little giggle coming from behind him and his heart soared. He smiled sending a message through the force before turning around.

"Did you miss me, womp rat?"

"Grogu miss you. Grogu train with Luke. Grogu happy."

His smile grew wider as he took his helmet off and bent down to scoop up the child, he pressed their foreheads together and baby babbled happily "Yeah, Luke missed you too, ad'ika."

[ooops-i-arted]

"But the show is about MANDALORIANS! Any Mandalorians! It never says it's about DIN!" is the stupidest fucking take I've seen out of this whole mess

Imagine if The Empire Strikes back cut away from Luke going to rescue Han and Leia to a new tax being levied on the citizens of Coruscant by a greedy Imperial bureaucrat because "they didn't say WHERE the Empire was striking back!"

Or the Original Trilogy ended by cutting away from the Rebel Fleet bravely standing up against the Death Star to a skirmish between a separate Rebel cell being attacked by a TIE fighter patrol because "they didn't say WHICH war in Star Wars!"

Or while Frodo is standing in Mount Doom, the camera zooms in on Vilya on Elrond's finger while he's sitting in Rivendell because "they didn't say WHICH Ring The Lord of the Rings was about!"

The Little Mermaid switches to following one of Ariel's sisters swimming around during the climax because "they didn't say WHICH little mermaid!"

Would y'all have read From A Certain Child's Point of View: The Sanctuary if I skipped all of Grogu's stuff to write from Winta's point of view the whole episode and then said "Haha, I didn't say WHICH child's point of view I was writing!" Or imagine if No Prison Can Hold had everything from Din and Luke's point of view, built up that confrontation, and then that chapter everyone was commenting they couldn't wait to see was Cara Dune calling Leia and explaining the situation and calling in a favor from a fellow Alderaanian and that's how the whole thing was solved. Leia takes Grogu and hands him to Din and Luke and Din never meet.

Previous seasons focused on Din. The advertising was all Din. It's not unreasonable to expect the show to be ABOUT DIN. All you're doing with that stupid fucking take is making excuses for Favroni's shitty writing and Filoni's inability to write anything but the same 3D Clone Wars characters over and over and over again.

[all-the-things-2020]

Finding His Way - Chapter Eleven

Summary: Cara Dune runs into an old friend and Din Djarin finds his Way.

Rating: PG-13

Cara Dune made her way through the streets of Nevarro. As Greef Karga’s enforcer, it was a good idea to keep a high profile among the residents, just in case anyone got any ideas. So she made a point of taking a walk most days. Today, things seemed quiet and she was about to cut her walk short and head to the cantina for a cold drink. Then, she caught a glimpse of shiny armor and the day got interesting.

“I’ll be damned,” she said to herself, changing direction to head toward the man clad in beskar steel. It might not be her friend, but there was only one way to find out for sure. As she got closer, he turned to avoid a staggering freight droid and she saw the stylized mudhorn signet on his right pauldron. “Mando,” she laughed, speeding up.

She reached him in just a few strides and stepped in front of him to block his way. “Long time no see, Mando,” she said, unable to keep the smile off her face. Neither she nor Karga had heard from him in quite a while and it was good to see that he was still alive.

“Cara,” he said simply. Same old Mando, she thought, then she noticed that he was not alone. A dark haired woman stood beside him, holding the little green kid that had caused so much trouble. The child waved at her, and Cara waved back, but Mando made no move to introduce the women. Cara raised an eyebrow, and then held out her hand.

“Cara Dune,” she said.

“Nice to meet you, Cara. I’m Mariana Djarin,” the woman said, shaking her hand. “As I’m sure you already know, my husband is a bit socially awkward.” She elbowed Mando in the side. He sighed.

“Uh, yeah,” Cara said, hoping she wasn’t looking too stunned. Mando had a wife? This was going to be a very interesting day. “I’d noticed.”

“Have you seen the Armorer recently?” Mando asked. Never one for small talk, that man.

“A week or two ago,” she replied. “She doesn’t come out much, but she stays in contact with me and Karga. I’m pretty sure her forge is in the same place.”

“Good,” Mando said. He turned to his wife (his wife!) and said, “Do you want to go back to the Crest or should we find a room here in town? I’m not sure how long I’ll be and you probably shouldn’t be wandering around by yourself.”

“I do have my blaster,” she said. Mando tilted his helmet and Cara could just imagine the raised eyebrow that probably lurked under it. “I’m getting better,” Mariana protested weakly. “But yeah, maybe I should take Ad’ika back …”

“Hey, I can keep an eye on them for you, Mando,” Cara butted in. “I was just on my way to the cantina for a drink; we can hang out while you take care of business with the Armorer.”

“I might be some time …” he began.

“More time for your wife to catch me up on what’s been going on since I last saw you,” Cara said, grabbing Mariana’s elbow with one hand and Mando’s with the other. She winked at him and heard another sigh. Stars, it was fun to mess with him again!

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll meet you there as soon as I’m finished.” He stroked the child’s ear and then tucked a stray strand of hair behind Mariana’s ear. “Don’t believe half of what Cara tells you, cyar’ika. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

He adjusted the knapsack on his back up onto his shoulder and walked off, leaving the two women alone. Cara tucked her arm through Mariana’s and led her in the direction of the cantina. Once inside, she ordered a drink at the bar (Mariana declined) and claimed her favorite booth, one that gave her a clear view of the entrance. She slid into the seat, keeping her back against the wall. Things were much quieter now that the Imperial scum had been routed out, but she’d learned long ago to never let her guard down. The server slid her drink in front of her.

“So,” she said, leaning forward. “Tell me everything, Mrs. Djarin.”

Mariana laughed, her eyes sparkling with mirth. “It all started when he bought me at a slave market …”

Cara nearly choked on her ale. “He bought you?”

Mariana shrugged. “I told you he’s socially awkward,” she said.

Cara relaxed in her seat. She had the feeling she was going to like this woman.

************

The sewers were much the same as he remembered them, but quieter. The covert had never been large, but there had always been some indication of their presence in the tunnels. Now, his footsteps echoed as he made his way toward the Armorer’s forge.

He heard the roar of the fire and the clink of tools long before he reached it. Despite the noise, the Armorer turned immediately when he stepped into the doorway. “I did not expect to see you again so soon,” she said. “Has the foundling been returned to its family?”

“He has found his home,” Din said. “I have brought you something.” He pulled the Darksaber out of his knapsack and held it out toward her.

It was hard to surprise the Armorer, but he felt sure this had done the trick. She tilted her helmet, taking a long moment to inspect the weapon.

“The Darksaber?”

“Yes. I recovered it from Moff Gideon. He is … no longer a threat.”

“Then you are the Mand’alor.” The Armorer bowed her head to him.

“No,” he said. “I’m giving it to you.”

She straightened. “A weapon such as this cannot be given away. It must be taken.”

“Then take it,” he said.

For a long moment, she stood silently, watching him. Neither of them moved, and then she swung her arm, knocking the saber from his hand and catching it before it hit the ground. He stayed still.

“Now I am the Mand’alor,” said the Armorer, thumbing the blade on. The dark blade hummed as she tested the weight of it in her hand.

“And I am no longer a Mandalorian,” Din said, reaching up to unlatch his helmet. In an instant, the Armorer turned off the blade and grabbed his hands.

“Do you know what you are doing?” She asked intently. “If you remove the helmet, you can never put it back on.”

“By that measure, I haven’t been a Mandalorian for a long time,” he said, shrugging off her hands and pulling off the helmet. “My son has seen my face; my wife has seen my face. Now the world can see it, too.”

“This is not the Way,” the Armorer said.

“It is not your Way, but it is mine,” Din said. He began to remove his armor and lay it on the work table beside the forge. “I no longer have a need for armor. Use the beskar for the Foundlings. This is the Way.”

“This is the Way,” the Armorer said, softly, picking up one of the pieces. “Are you sure?”

Din nodded. “Beskar belongs to the Mando’ade, not a dar’manda like me.” He continued to remove his armor, stacking the plates neatly. When he was finished, he looked up at her. “I only ask for this: make me two rings. I promised my riddur a wedding ring.” He pulled a bit of string out of his pocket. “I measured her finger; you can measure mine. I trust no one else to make this for me.”

The Armorer took the piece of string and curled it around her own gloved finger. “Small,” she said.

“Her heart is big,” he said.

“I will do as you ask, but I insist you keep more than two rings worth of beskar.” She pulled out the pauldron that held the Mudhorn signet. “Keep this as well, for your son. As a remembrance of you when you are long gone and he still continues. His species is long-lived, is it not?”

“Yes,” Din said, taking the pauldron and tucking it into his knapsack. “And thank you.”

“You have returned the Darksaber to the Mando’ade. You have made me the Mand’alor. It is I who should thank you.” She picked up his helmet and turned it in her hands. “Keep this as well. Hang it on your wall. You can tell everyone you took it from a great Mandalorian warrior.”

Din slipped the helmet into the knapsack as well. “How long will it take to make the rings?” He asked quietly.

“Not long,” she said, already selecting a piece of armor to take the beskar from. “An hour. Less if you stop talking.”

Din chuckled. “I’ll just get out of your way, then.” He slipped away to change into the civilian clothes at the bottom of his knapsack. He’d walked into the tunnels a Mandalorian; he was going to walk out as himself.

*******************

“Are you sure you don’t want a beer?” Cara said, waving the barkeeper over to refill her own cup.

“It’s tempting, but I can’t,” said Mariana said with a small smile. Cara was puzzled for a moment — which had nothing to do with the three beers she’d already consumed — until the coin dropped.

“Oh! Oh. Way to go, Mando,” she said. This was turning out to be one of her favorite days ever. She was going to have so much ammunition to razz Mando with. And Mariana … she could see why Mando had fallen for her. The woman was smart, a bit sassy, and very, very funny.

“So, tell me,” Cara asked. “Does the helmet stay on …”

Mariana smacked her arm. “No more drinks for you.”

Cara laughed. She’d deserved that. “Okay, okay, but seriously? What’s under all that beskar?”

Before Mariana could answer, Cara’s attention was drawn by a newcomer to the cantina. The man seemed vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place his face. He surveyed the room as he came in, then headed straight for their booth. Cara sat up, suddenly alert. He didn’t look threatening, no visible weapons, but she hadn’t stayed alive this long by trusting anyone.

Before she could make a move toward her blaster, the green kid started bouncing up and down on his seat. “Da! Da! Da!”

The man laughed, a broad smile crinkling his brown eyes, as he slid into the booth next to Mariana and pulled the kid into his lap.

“Mando?” Cara gasped.

He slid one arm around Mariana’s shoulders. “Not anymore, Cara,” he said. “I’m just Din Djarin now.”

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his fist. He opened it to reveal two shiny silver rings, one slightly larger than the other. The kid’s eyes widened and he made a grab for them, but Mando (no, Djarin) moved his hand out of reach.

“Uh uh, these are for Mommy and Daddy,” he said. “I’ve got some beskar for you in the bag.”

The kid pouted a little, but then gave Cara a sneaky little grin. She gave him a salute with one finger while she finished her drink.

Djarin slipped the smaller ring on Mariana’s finger, and she slid the other onto his. “Aww, how disgustingly romantic,” Cara said when she saw the dopey grins on their faces. They both shot her a look that was so identical she lost it. “Oh, stars, you two were made for each other,” she laughed.

This was definitely her favorite day. Ever.

[kalinara]

I miss Cara Dune.

I don’t miss Gina Carano, mind you.  Except for the fact that I find her smoking hot, physically speaking.  But I firmly believe that the powers that be did the right thing by firing her/letting her go.  

But I do miss Cara as a character.  I just keep imagining her reaction to “Din Grogu” and the idea that Din let her get his name backwards for literal years at this point.  It would have been hilarious.

[mac-darf]

Mandalorian Season 3 was pretty good. Significantly better than season 2 and Novel of Boob Feet but holy shit. That finale was ass.

Here's the main issues with me:

-Uhh fucking. There was setup for the New Republic to be enemies with the Mandalorians. Obviously the Mandalorian didn't bust Gideon out but how come the New Republic knew that. Why didn't they launch some kinda attack against them. Imagine if Hitler was arrested by the British, then he went missing and the only evidence lead to the French. Now a French General walks into a British military base and goes "Oh yeah I killed Hitler btw". That's basically when Din did with the New Republic it's INSANE. Ik they're lazy but that cliffhanger with the prison transport should have done something.

-So Grogu was his last name??? Why did Ahsoka ask for his last name and not his first? Does he have a first? Ik Yoda was Yoda's last name but is that a thing for his species? Was Yaddle her last name? Din Grogu is a lame name.

-They should really just recast Cara Dune her absence in this show is kinda super noticeable. Instead of Mando meeting her to ask for work with the New Republic (his old and personal friend) he went to ask a cop who pulled him over twice and asked him for a favor once. Bizarre.

-Is Gideon actually dead? If he is that's cool. I wouldn't have expected that. If not then fuck but like. What's season 4 gonna be. Why didn't Mando live on Mandalore and instead chose a house in bog. Is he stupid?

-Why was last week's episode called "The Spies". There was no spy at all. What the fuck is happening.

-Dark Saber broke which thank fucking GOD I'm over that over hyped pos. But I do wonder why Bo Katan's group follows her now. Seems like they only did it bc she had it. Now she doesn't.

[radiosummons]

Do y'all remember when people were shipping Cara Dune with the Armorer?

Or did I just imagine that in a fever dream and accept it as reality?

Anyway, more lesbians/queer women in Star Wars pls!!!! I'm dying out here.

(Just to clarify: I'm sad that my love for Cara died because of the shitty actions of the actress, but I'm not gonna give shit to anyone who still likes Cara as a character).