#inject this shit directly into my veins

[guardian-angle22]

911: Lone Star ↳ "You don't know what it's like to not be seen."

[wonder-harley]

Courting

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader

Words: 5.3k

Based on this request

A/N: As you can tell by the word count, I went ham on this prompt, I seriously love it so much. @deceiverofgodss and I worked on this probably too much for both of our own good, but I am so in love with what we created and I hope you like it too! Lots of fluff, actual decent angst this time (not my usual bullshit), a fun dive into both canon and fanon Mandalorian culture, and just lots of fun 😊

Warnings: canon level violence–use and mention of weapons & combat, angst, Mandalorian lore, I made a Mandalorian specifically for this, semi-established relationship? I explain it, I tied it into the plotline of the show even, the child is a contributing member this time (kinda), idk this is the longest fic I’ve written so I feel like I’m forgetting something

Seeing a Mandalorian covert was an interesting experience to say the least, and an experience not hardly any other non-Mandalorians like yourself would share. It was like an entire civilization, though on a much smaller scale, hidden beneath the surface of the planet above. Din had received a heavily obscured and ambiguous message from who he believed was the armorer, his assumption coming to be true as she welcomed his little clan into the covert, offering protection for you and the child as well as information before the three of you had to continue on your search for the Jedi.

While Din had busied himself with information gathering, as well as doing what he could to provide for the tribe, you had taken to putting your own set of skills to use. You and the child would often entertain and watch after the Mandalorian children and foundlings that ran around the tunnels of the covert, telling stories of your adventures with your Mandalorian that seemed to inspire them, many a Mandalorian parent thanking you for it. You offered your limited medical help, helping with anything from minor scrapes, knife wounds, and brushes of blaster fire. As well as, with the experience you’d gained working on the Razor Crests’ constant repairs, being able to offer some mechanical support in the rare cases needed.

Overall, you proved to be a favorite among the Mandalorians, and even though you took it very modestly, Din couldn’t help but feel his pride being inflated. He’d had a handful of Mandos tell him about how perfectly suited you were to be a Mandalorian Riduur, and it took a lot for him to ignore his body’s response.

The child loved the attention, and quite honestly, you didn’t mind it either. The women were welcoming and taught you different styles of fighting, the children were sweet, and there was one Mando in particular with green markings on his shoulder who would often give you gifts. Just little things, but it was a nice gesture, and made you feel like you fit in amongst the beskar clad warriors.

“What did you tell them about me this time?” Din asked as he made his way into the little cove you three had occupied in the covert, pushing the drapery meant for privacy aside. “The foundlings were all over me when I walked through.” You giggled at the thought.

“We told them about the Mudhorn today, they wanted to know how you earned your signet,” you told him fondly, the child wriggling out of your grasp to descend onto the bed that took up most of the space in your little cut-out of a room. “They seem to idolize you.”

“That’s because you keep fluffing up the stories you tell them, mesh’la,” he sighed as he deposited his rifle in the corner beside the bed, and you couldn’t help but smile at him. There was an unspoken connection between the two of you that just lit your entire being on fire. Especially when he called you sweet names like that. You didn’t technically know what it meant, but you figured it had to be a term of endearment by the way he said it.

“Any luck with the…” You trailed off, asking him about the Jedi, but trying not to get the kid’s hopes up. The two of you had noticed his ears perking up at any mention of it, and after a while with nothing new, Din suggested the two of you keep things low-profile around him.

“Same as always,” he admitted, and you could hear frustration creeping into his voice. “We’re running out of options, and I don’t even know where I would start if we can’t find anything.”

“I’m sure something will come up,” you tried to reassure him. “Why don’t you come sit down, you’ve had a rough few days,” you offered. He tilted his helmet at you in just the right way, and you knew he was looking at you as fondly as you were him. He turned his focus to the troublemaker fumbling around the large bed.

“What have you got little one?” he asked affectionately, picking the child up and examining the object he had been trying to put in his mouth. It was a miniature carving of what looked like a Nexu, complete with four eyes, a wide mouth, and a long two-tipped tail. “Another Nexu, huh?” You chuckled softly, the sound making his soul light up. While your time here in the covert had been stressful in terms of the search for Jedi, Din had enjoyed these moments with his little family, finding absolute bliss in the comfort they allowed.

“Mmhmm, it also came with this,” you offered, bringing him out of his daze as you held a dagger delicately in your hands. He’d almost let it slip as he looked up at your smiling face, doing a double-take as he took a closer look at the weapon, a silver blade fixed to a hilt of beskar. Din gently set the child back down on the bed, his visor trained on the dagger in your hands.

“Who gave you that?” He asked abruptly, his shift in attitude catching you off guard.

“You remember that Mandalorian with the green designs on his shoulder? I think he goes by Tairoh.”

“Has he given you anything else?” Your eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, hinted with concern.

“All of these were from him. He has something for me almost every time I see him,” you admitted cautiously, referring to the assortment of trinkets and toys amongst the pile of your things, most of which were variations of the exact same thing. The fucking Nexu. He’d heard that Mando tell too many stories about the ugly animals before, he should have known it was a signet.

Tairoh was much taller, bigger, stronger, and younger than Din was. He was good with the foundlings, had a soft spot for them. As a fighter, he was reckless, never thinking before he leaped, yet every action he took was one for his tribe. He was a prime example of a Mandalorian warrior, and it made an uneasy feeling start to settle in the pit of Din’s stomach.

“Dank farrik… I thought you got those from the foundlings,” he grumbled, looking seemingly anywhere but you. Which didn’t help make you feel any better about whatever was going on.

“Why, what’s wrong?” you tried. Din just kind of let out a heavy breath as he hesitated a few moments. “Should… should I not have taken them? Should I give the blade back?”

“No no, you should keep it… it’s a beautiful weapon, it suits you.” Din tried to be genuine, but it wasn’t working, his comment coming out passive and cold. In all fairness, it was well crafted and would fit your fighting style well. But it was wrong.

“Alright… then what is it? Why are you upset?”

“I’m not upset,” he lied. You simply raised an eyebrow at him, seeing right through his act. He huffed in frustration. “I’m not upset, not at you.” That was all he said before he flung the drapery “door” open and stormed off through the tunnels of the covert, leaving you and the child alone again.

“Yeah, that was a great talk. Glad we cleared that up,” you muttered sarcastically to the empty space where Din was standing a few moments before, the child simply looking up at you with wide eyes. You had half a mind to take the Nexu out of his mouth, but you didn’t need both of your boys throwing fits, one was plenty.

...

“Why did you make the blade?”

“I have made a handful of blades in the last few days, you’ll have to be more specific.” The Armorer had her back to him as she worked in the large circular room, her voice calm and collected like it always was. It was starting to piss him off.

“The blade Tairoh gave to her. A courting gift, when she’s mine.” He was seething, his words hot on his tongue.

“Not by Mandalorian customs,” The Armorer answered with a lilt in her voice. Din froze.

“She’s not Mandalorian, she doesn’t understand.”

“That does not stop the others from being able to try. She does not carry your signet, she wears no ring, pendant, or other signifiers. While she may have a bond with you and your foundling, she has no true tie to your clan.”

How could someone be so right and so wrong at the same time? You did belong to his clan, you made it a clan of three. You were always there to have his back, you cared for his foundling as if he were your own. Maker, after everything you had been through together, he was as much your child as he was Din’s. He thought of all your lingering glances, your gentle touches, warm smiles. The way your eyes lit up at the sight of him, the way you looked at him as if he had put the galaxy in your hands.

But he hadn’t given you his signet. Despite having thought about it more times than he could count, you had nothing that bore his mudhorn. So while by common standards you were his, to the Mandalorians… there was still room for doubt, for interference, for competition.

And yet, he had such a personal knowledge of you, he felt like there hadn’t been a need for such a bold claim, such a strong statement of possession. He knew your facial expressions and what each subtle change reflected, as you knew every tilt of his helmet. He knew which meals and snacks disappeared quicker, he knew how softly you would sing in the ‘fresher, which sleeping positions you found the most comfortable during cold nights on the Crest. He knew you as intimately as you knew him. Wasn’t that the point? Wasn’t that enough?

“She possesses the Mandokar, the virtue of a true Mandalorian. She has an aggressive passion, tenacity, loyalty, and a clear lust for life. He will help strengthen this in her, and together they will raise strong warriors.”

Din could physically feel his heart shatter. Just the thought of you with another man, another Mandalorian, having children that were not his own… it was never something you had discussed, but in that moment Din knew it was everything he wanted.

“This is the way,” the armorer tried. For the first time in a long time, he did not reply. He turned and stormed out of the room, his cape swishing behind him as he sped off with one thing in mind.

You.

…

“I don’t understand, do you not like it?” Tairoh asked.

“No, it’s a lovely weapon, it really is,” you started, the kid in his satchel on your hip while you held the knife out to him with both hands. You had no way to know whether this was right or not, but after sitting in your room racking your brain for an answer with nothing else to go off of but Din’s reaction, this was the best solution you could think of.

“My Mandalorian did not react the way I expected him to when I brought this back.” You tried to choose your words gently, terrified of accidentally offending him by some part of his culture you didn’t understand, unaware that Tairoh knew exactly why it had set Din off. That he had almost anticipated it, though your clear statement of ‘my Mandalorian’ threw him off. “I clearly don’t understand what this means, and I think it might be best if I returned it to you.”

“He didn’t explain it to you?” Tairoh questioned, his hands remaining on his hips as he towered over you, still not taking the knife out of your hands like you wanted so badly for him to.

“Neither did you,” came the modulated voice you were so familiar with, and you could feel the kid’s ears perk up at the sound. You peeked behind the hulking Mando in front of you to see your favorite wall of beskar storming down the hall of the covert, beelining towards the three of you. Tairoh turned to face him, his size quickly becoming evident as his bulky frame towered even over Din, who you were used to feeling small standing next to.

“Did you think she knew?” You could hear the anger in his voice, hot and boiling over the edge. “Or did you disregard that she had no idea what you were doing?”

“Being so close to someone with such a strong Mandokar, it’s a wonder you haven’t gotten farther than I have.” How they can have a whole conversation and still not say a damn word about what the hell was going on was almost impressive. It’s like they were doing it on purpose. They had stepped dangerously close to each other, and the tension of the situation was so thick you could have cut it with the blade that was, unfortunately, still in your hand.

“You don’t know her like I do,” Din sneered, his voice quiet but unwavering. You had to ignore the shocks it sent through your body.

“Maybe I don’t, not yet. But I’ll know her better.”

You couldn't even interject before Din had launched at Tairoh. You watch in shock as Din’s shining silver vambrace became a blur until his gloved fist collided with the other helmet, his opponent only flinching a little. In that brief pause where they both processed what was happening, you felt like your heart was stuck in your throat. A green armored hand shoots out to grab Din behind the neck, and he moves to swing the other one at his helmet. You watch, almost in slow motion, as Din managed to duck himself down and out of the way, headbutting the much larger Mandalorian in the gut. You’re almost impressed by your own reaction time considering how distracted you are, quick to move out of the way as he plows Tairoh into the wall behind you.

You glance around at the others gathered around the covert, and no one is even batting an eye. Well, figuratively. There’s only one helmet turning anywhere near your direction, and his body language just looks bored. The child at your hip, on the other hand, seemed to be having a great time, cooing and cheering in his own little way, being far too used to watching his father beat the shit out of people for his own good.

Tairoh kicks Din off of him, sending the silver-clad Mando stumbling backward, your attention brought back to where it should be. Pushing himself off the wall, he sauntered over to Din, grabbing him by the collar and hoisting him into the air. Din scrambles a little bit, his legs swinging as he tried hitting Tairoh anywhere he could reach, but nothing seemed to make any progress.

After a few moments, you started to get even more nervous than you already were, watching as nothing happened, Din struggling and Tairoh seeming to stand victorious. What he was winning was lost to you, but he seemed pretty comfortable with his accomplishment, bringing his other hand up to prop up against his hip. Almost as soon as he got comfortable, Din’s legs shot up to hook around his opponent’s upper body, catching him off guard. He ignites his jetpack, causing Tairoh to stumble backward with the offset, dropping Din to the floor with a metallic thud.

This was what was getting people’s attention, you figured, watching as a crowd of Mandalorians had started to congregate in the nearby halls when the combatants started pulling out their fancy toys. You’d seen a couple of Mandos brawl through the covert during your stay, it was like sibling rivalries, they fought over anything and everything. But it was usually just with their fists, and the occasional vibroblade if they got fired up. They didn’t pull out their jetpacks or other impressive weapons, like your Beskar clad dumbass was doing right now.

Din was quick to his feet, or at least to one of them as he scrambled up from the floor and onto one knee, throwing the grappling line out from his vambrace to wrap around Tairoh’s legs and send him to the ground. The larger Mandalorian plants his feet and grounds himself, and reached out to start pulling the line, and Din with it. You watched almost in awe as Din’s strength was tested, holding his own against his hulking opponent until his boots betrayed him, sliding against the floor. You can hear his struggle, grunting and groaning as he used all his strength to stop from being pulled in, and combined with the sight of his broad stance ... it was certainly having an effect on you.

There was a soft clink of metal, Din having found his footing in a grate on the floor, wrapping the line around his fist and pulling it taught. You didn’t know who drew their weapon first, but in a flash, both of the armored men in front of you were throwing fire at each other, blasts meeting in the middle and canceling the other out. The air was not only hot, but it was thick with rising tension, and you knew it was only a matter of moments before one of them launched to further attack the other, and your stomach was tying itself in a knot as the other Mandos around you egged them on.

You physically flinched as a clang reverberated through the halls, turning to see the Armorer at the end of the corridor, her forging hammer in hand, likely having collided it with Beskar to produce the sound. The flamethrowers were disengaged, and a crowd of ‘T’ shaped visors turned to look at her, even from their positions on the floor.

“Enough,” her calm voice came through. “We cannot let our personal battles overpower the strength of our tribe. While strength is life by the Canons of Honor, for the strong have the right to rule... loyalty is life, for without one’s clan one has no purpose. Do not let your flames burn down that bond, nor our newfound covert, crucial in our continued survival.” There was a pause as they all absorbed her words, and you could see as the two in front of you started to let go, releasing the cable for Din to reign it back in.

“Our secrecy is our survival, our survival is our strength. This is the way,” She finished. There was an echo of voices, ‘this is the way’ resounding through the crowd that had gathered as they reiterated the aphorism the way they often did. You looked to Din at that moment, still unsure whether answering or not answering was more offensive, only to find his visor already pointed at you.

As the crowd dispersed, Din offered a hand to help Tairoh off the floor, and they gave each other a silent nod before turning to you. The latter gave you a similar nod before walking in the other direction, leaving you, the child, and Din to yourselves as he made his way to your side. The child started squirming in his satchel on your hip as he tried to get to his father.

“What the hell is going on?!” you questioned him in a harsh whisper, handing him the wiggling green swamp rat. Din let out a deep sigh, holding the kid close to his chest with one arm, his other slotting at the small of your back to gently lead you forward.

“Let’s head back to our quarters, I’ll explain there.”

…

The walk back had been a quiet one, aside from the Child’s happy gurgling, while Din was racking his brain to figure out where he was going to start and you silently waited for him. You passed a handful of other Mandos on your way, and you figured word must have traveled quickly by the way their visors lingered on your party.

Peeling the curtain back to let Din walk in before you, you tossed the satchel and unwanted dagger onto the large bed and propped your hands on your hips, waiting for his explanation. He almost looked sheepish as he set the child down in his pod, begrudgingly handing him the Nexu toy that he had taken a liking to.

“He was courting you,” Din started, always quick to the point when he decided to give you any explanation. Your eyebrows shot up in confusion. “All the gifts he was giving you, they were courting gifts. He wanted… he wanted to marry you.” He had to take a shaky breath to manage the last statement, and your heart ached.

“Din…” you sighed, dropping your hands to try and get closer to him.

“You couldn't have known, and… and I should have told you, I just...” You placed a hand on his arm as you came up to him, his body responding almost instinctively as his hands found your waist to hold you against him. One gloved hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your soft skin. “I just didn’t want to lose you,” he whispered. You almost laughed at him, unable to hide your grin.

“What made you think that would ever happen?”

“Do you realize how many Mandalorians would have been happy to make you their partner?” he said, almost shocking you with how steady his voice was, like he’d thought about this many times before this. “You have a lot of key Mandalorian qualities, and many of them have told me directly that they’d be honored if they got the chance to court you.”

You just kind of looked at him with wide eyes, barely processing the words coming out of his mouth. You had started as an outsider, doing what you could to prove your value, let them know they could trust you… and apparently, you had accomplished much more than just fitting in.

“What stopped them?” You asked, almost amused at the absurdity of all of this.

“Me.” The conviction in his voice sent chills down your spine. “They understood that you’re mine, that you’re with me, under my protection.”

“They’re damn right,” you smiled, placing your hands on the broad expanse of his chest plate.

“But you do not wear my signet,” he continued, not sounding quite as amused as you did, and your smile fell. “By Mandalorian standards, I have no claim over you. Tairoh saw that, and took his chance.” His hand fell from your cheek, but didn’t go far as it resided at your waist. “He is much bigger, stronger, younger than I am… he would have provided well for you.”

You finally got a glimpse into what was going on inside that bucket on his head, and you were not successful in holding in your laughter this time.

“What’s funny?” He sounded irritated, securely holding you in place as your laughter had you leaning back in his arms.

“You’re dumb,” you replied, earning a huff in response. You righted yourself, trying to contain your giggles as you looked back up into his visor. “Do you think I care about any of that?” His helmet tilted the slightest bit, and you knew he was listening intently. “I didn’t choose you because you could provide for me, or because you were Mandalorian. Apparently, I could have my pick of the lot.” That comment made him give you an amused exhale, and you dreamed about the smile that accompanied it.

“I want you, Din Djarin. I want you just as you are, beskar helmet or no,” you admitted softly, hoping to soothe his nerves, and help him realize just how far you would go for him. “But dank farrik, you have got to start telling me things. We could have avoided all of this if you had just told me what was going on,” you poked at him, and you got to hear one of the rarest and most beautiful sounds– the deep, belly laugh of your favorite Mandalorian.

“That takes the fun out of it, mesh’la,” he smiled. Your hands flew to cradle his neck in between your hands, sitting just under his helmet and pulling down ever so slightly to get him closer to you.

“You can start by telling me what that word means, you’ve been calling me that forever!” Din’s helmet tilted to the side, far more prominent this time, and it made your cheeks grow hot. You knew he was about to say something absolutely adorable, or something that would make your sides hurt with laughter. Always a gamble with him.

“It means beautiful,” he muttered, and your heart swelled.

You remembered the very first time he’d ever called you that. It had taken you completely off guard and had probably been the only time you could have asked what it meant and actually have gotten an answer, at least before he got stubborn and made it something secret he could get away with as he pleased.

It had been on Sorgan, in the weeks spent laying low in the quiet backwater village, well after the initial battle that had brought you there. Din had been standing on the porch of the little hut they had graciously provided for the three of you to stay in, standing with his thumbs hooked into his belt, his back to the door as he waited for you.

I want to show you something, you had told him, and you could hear his smile when he couldn’t resist you. You remember what it felt like as his visor gazed up and down your body as you modeled the blue, apron-shaped piece you had woven yourself. It had taken weeks and immeasurable amounts of patience learning from the villagers, and you would never wear it again once you left the planet, but you were proud of yourself.

It looks great, mesh’la, you did well. It had made you light up like a plasma charge, the intimacy in his voice made you melt.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me that?” you asked the Mando in your arms, enamored with the man who had been calling you beautiful for almost as long as he’d known you. He dropped his head down to meet yours in a Mandalorian custom you did recognize– from legends and stories before you had your own to interrogate– the Keldabe Kiss.

“Because I’m dumb.”

…

Weeks had passed at the covert, and you welcomed the growth that came with it. The child had gotten over his fussy-ness when being left with other Mandos, happy to play with new friends and other foundlings while you and Din were away. In this time, you continued doing what you could to help around the covert and did more training with the Mandalorians you had grown close to, helping you hone in on a fighting style that suited you best in both preference and build. As for Din, he’d been much more talkative since the fight and had been more than happy to indulge you in any mando’a translation you asked of him, even going as far as to give you some of his own. It was nice, having a little routine. It was almost domestic.

But that kind of domesticity just didn’t fit your party’s lifestyle, and soon enough you were on the move again. You were to meet an informant, Gor Koresh, who frequented an underground fighting pit and had a lead on the location of other Mandalorians. With nothing to go off of in the covert’s position, this was your best option. And while you had enjoyed your time at the covert, you were itching for something new.

You settled yourselves back into the Razor Crest, the child already having forgotten about his missing Nexu toys – a crime Din refused to answer for – when he was reunited with the beloved ball topper from the cockpit. The other Mandalorians had been gracious enough to help stock up your supplies, and ensure the ship was prepared to travel. Tairoh had been one of those people, heavy lifting where it was needed, but gave you nothing more than another silent nod. It would have been the opportune moment to return the blade back to him, had you not misplaced it before leaving the covert, even though it remained in one spot since it had been in your possession. Though you couldn’t lie, there was an incredible lack of remorse for the missing object on your part, and you were sure that one person would be relieved.

“How far do you think you came in your training?” Din had asked, turning the pilot’s chair to face you now that he had set a course through lightspeed.

“I’m doing much better since what you taught me on Sorgan, I could hold my own,” you answered proudly. “Why?”

“I’m half expecting trouble with this informant, but I want you to come with me.” There was something different about his tone. You knew he was grinning, you could hear it, but you couldn’t for the life of you figure out why.

“Yeah? You and me against a bunch of underground fighters?” You teased, knowing full well that it was an image he’d enjoy.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he chuckled. He hesitated for a moment, almost unsure of himself as he fidgeted with his glove. “Do you want to fight me? Show me what you’ve learned?”

“If you’ve got something I can use,” you replied, shrugging your shoulders. You turned to look down at the hull below as you explained, “I got pretty good with hand to hand, but I’m used to using their blades. Yours look a bit bigger, and I lost the one from…” Your words were caught in your throat when you turned back around to face him.

He was still sitting in the pilot’s chair, and though his posture was relaxed you could tell all of his muscles were at attention. In his hands was a sleek dagger, much like the ones you were used to. The blade was attached to a beskar hilt that had intricate designs, and a very distinct image of a mudhorn.

“Is that…”

“I had it crafted before we left,” he answered as your question trailed off. “I hope you don’t mind, but I reused the beskar from your last blade, and had it made into something better.” You let out a laugh at his implication, some of the tension released from your body.

“Din, does this mean you’re courting me?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him. He gave an airy chuckle as he let go of a breath he seemed to be holding.

“I figured it wouldn’t hurt to make it count by Mandalorian customs as well. We would be recognized as a clan of three.” You stood from the co-pilot’s chair to stand between his legs, and he leaned up from his position to look at you properly, a gloved hand caressing the side of your leg as he held you there. “It’s yours if you’ll have it, mesh’la.”

You gently took the blade from his hands, beaming at him while you examined it. Another hand came up to your other side, pulling you down into his lap to hold you close.

“What do you think?” You gave it a brief moment of feigned contemplation.

“I think I’m gonna kick your ass with it when we land.” You felt his body rumble with the chuckle that came from deep within his core, his hand moving to cup your cheek.

“Save it for the fighters my love.”

...

Taglist: @janebby

Din Djarin: @spideysimpossiblegirl @cats-are-a-girls-bestfriend

[nonranghaes]

it's weird that you don't call out to jun when he comes into your apartment. jun knows that you know he was coming over at some point to spend time with you, and usually you greet him in some way when you hear the apartment door unlock. he's a little earlier than he planned, but you told him to 'come over whenever' and now he's a little worried that you didn't mean it. he quietly slips into the pair of slippers that stays here at your place, and makes his way further into your apartment to set down the bag of groceries he brought on your kitchen counter. your bedroom door is open, but the tiny room you use as a home office is open just a sliver.

he makes his way over, leaning in to listen for a moment... only to hear your voice. there's a little strain to it as you struggle through a sentence, and it clicks all at once: you're speaking chinese. albeit not very well (it's clear to jun that this is one-hundred percent new to you), but you're still trying. your pronunciation is a bit clumsy, but he can hear the way you try to use the right tone with what you're saying...

when did you start learning this much? jun had taught you little things in the past--the absolute basics, really, plus a few other little phrases that veer into his own cheesy need to hear you say sweet things--but this...? he steps back from the door. why hadn't you told him? you could have told him and he'd happily help you learn. but he trusts you: you must have your reasons to keep this a secret, so he won't push. he steps away, deciding to busy himself with getting ingredients put away--or set up for the two of you to cook together, in case you're hungry now.

then he knocks a cup into the sink, and immediately he hears you coming out of your office. relief crosses your face when you see it's just jun, and you lean against the open doorway.

"i didn't know you were here." you pause, and then he sees you get hit with realization. "... how long were you here?"

"i just got here," he says. it's technically the truth, isn't it? he's only been here for a few minutes. "were you working?"

you nod. "yeah. just had to answer a phone call," you lie to him, but he just nods and acts like he doesn't know that. you come up to his side, wrapping an arm around him. "is this for lunch?"

he leans over to you and presses a kiss against your cheek. "are you hungry?"

"mhm," you just snuggle in for a moment, enjoying his presence. "you should teach me more recipes you learned from your mom sometime."

jun finds himself smiling already. was that what this all was...? an attempt for you to understand him better? to show that you care for him so much that you want to know his culture, too? "i'd love to," he says softly, and wraps an arm around you to tug you closer to his side. "only if you teach me things you learned from your family, too."

then he'll make more efforts to understand you and your background, too. just to show you that he loves you as much as you love him.

[jabberwockymoreau]

Starting Wheel of Time after also having recently watched all of Rings of Power gave me so much whiplash like what do you mean it's possible to have thoughtful plots, compelling characters, pacing that actually lets the story breathe and develop, worldbuilding that's not stupid, actual diversity...what do you mean it's possible for Amazon to make actually good fantasy television...I'm crying. Don't tell me these things.

[allastoredeer]

I just found some Hazbin Hotel leaks, pre-being pick up by A24 and, do you know we could have had an episode where Charlie meets all the Deadly Sins? We were absolutely robbed of a pretty good filler episodes before the big finale with heaven.

Here's link to the leaks: https://imgur.com/a/nCorcZq

In case the link doesn't work, you can also look at this tumblr post: https://www.tumblr.com/hellaverse-critical-confessions/727383242254204928/hello-the-pre-a24-leaks-anon-again-heres-link?source=share

I really hope they use some of this old concepts on the next season cause they seem quite funny and interesting. Those ideas could help flush the characters out a bit more and the worldbuilding. What do you think?

Me writing notes while reading the leaks:

OOOH HOO WE GOT SOME WONDERFUL CHARACTER INSIGHTS! Especially with Husk!

“Angel and Charlie drag Husk out to a carnival show to show him the not-so-sleazy side of life. This proves difficult with Husk being raised to know nothing but crime and no experience with innocent fun.”

Husk has no experience with innocent fun. He only knows the sleazy side of life T.T Also he has mob connections 👀That is good to know. I find that so, so interesting. It explains it grim outlook on life. Why he's hardly every smiling or having fun. I think one of the first times we actually see him smile is after fighting those shark demons with Angel Dust in "Masquerade."

Now that I'm thinking about it, he smiles a lot more after that. Or, at least from what I remember. I might need to rewatch the show (for the dozenth time, LMAO). But, that kind also goes to show how much this guy needs friends. Good relationships. Connections outside of crime, which is all he's known all his life.

I WANT HUSK TO HAVE PURE, DUMB FUN AND TO LAUGH AND SMILE AND IM SOBBING JUST THINKING ABOUT IT

Also love delving more into Vaggie too. How she's incredible responsible, but controlling. After reading through a few of the episode description about her, my personal headcanon/take is that she still has a bit of that "angels are superior" mindset in the way that when she challenges Maxine, she's quickly reminded of her own limits when she's defeated "very easily." It's like what Carmilla was saying in the show. The angels are arrogant in their fighting. They leave themselves open, they're brash, and uncoordinated because they're not used to fighting demons who can actually fight back.

As far as we've seen, all of their victims are regular demons. None of the Overlords. Well, except Carmilla that one time, and she'd taken down the Exorcists with relative ease because she knows how to fight, and she's powerful. Given that this is the first time an Exorcist has been killed, and the first time we hear about an Overlord being attacked during the Extermination, I assume not a lot of Exorcists come face to face with the Overlords.

So, this kind of brash arrogance still lingering in Vaggie, who see's a demon talking down to her and automatically challenges them to a fight, only to lose immediately. Then her falling back into her insecurities that if she's not able to protect/fight for something/someone, than she's useless (which is ANOTHER thing she's learned from her time as an Exorcist angel--if she's unable to fight for the cause, what use does she have?). It's like this double-edged sword, and I'm rahhhhhh I'm gnawing on it.

ALSO ALSO, getting not only one annual event held in Hell, but TWO! "Hells Weapons Exo," (which I like to think Vox co-hosts with Carmilla, as she is a weapons manufacturer, and Vox is the guy to go to if you're looking to sell/buy something. Also, Vox HAS to have a showmanship side of him. Like, a legitimate showy, entertainer side--which I also like to think is what brought him and Alastor together before their, uh, falling out.)

Their second event being "Challenge Day" where lower tiered demons can challenge higher tiered demons for control over souls? I interpreted this in two ways, 1) challenging a higher tiered demon for the souls they already own, or 2) challenging the person who owns your soul as a way to get it back - both of which I really like. It actually fits really well with some of the world-building I've been doing for the last few days, so I am eating it up.

ALSO THE FACT THAT THERE'S A ROYAL BALL HELD AFTER "CHALLENGE DAY." My RadioApple brain LATCHED onto that so quickly. Imagine Lucifer taking Alastor to the royal ball as his date T.T I wanna see them all dressed up fancy, and I want them to dance, and dsofslknjljblkjbj FUUUUUUCK

Thank you SO Much for sending me this! I am soaking up these lore pieces like a sponge.

It also mentions Angel and Charlie taking Husk to a carnival show, which makes me wonder if there are places like carnivals open in Pentagram City, or if it's similar to the traveling circus thing Blitz grew up in. Like, do hellborn demons who doing travelling circus/carnivals just go through all the rings, one-by-one, including the Pride Ring? That way the Sinners get to get in on it too? AH! I just love thinking about it.

Thank you thank you I am feasting so much right now.

(THIS ALSO MAKES ME SO UPSET ABOUT STUDIOS LIMITING SERIES DOWN TO 8-10 EPISODES A SEASON, WE COULD'VE GOTTEN SO MUCH CONTENT AND WORLD BUILDING IF THEY'D GIVEN VIVZIE AND HER TEAM A PROPER SEASON TO BUILD IT ALL UP AND GRRRRRRRR)

Oh, also, I just realized I didn't answer your original question about the Sins, GOD I wish we got that. I want to see Charlie interacting with all the Sins so badly. Though, I suppose with Amazon not really owning Hazbin Hotel, where all the Sin's have been showing up, I wonder if they'd be able to do an episode like at all.

I don't know. Things to think about.

But to sum up! Thank you so much for this! I know this answer kind of went on long LOL, but you have given me so much brain food and I am eternally grateful 🙏

[wellhalesbells]

the thing that fucks me up about rereading instructions for dancing is trying to pinpoint when it is that derek becomes obsessed with stiles and realizing the answer seems to be always. from the beginning. the moment they met. that poor bastard. he probably should have tried to be a little nicer about it, though, saved them both some hardship.

I think it slides so quickly from fear and annoyance that Stiles will steal Scott away to 'Oh no, oh fuck,' I'm not even sure Derek knows himself. Poor guy hamstrung himself by starting out with the 'I'm going to scare him away' mentality then wondering where the hell that went and trying to find it again through almost every subsequent interaction (while something so much bigger and so much worse - Derek's Thoughts™ - completely eclipsed it). Meanwhile Stiles also helps cultivate Derek's dickish-ness by assuming that original motivation to be his only interest in him at all, essentially until the moment Derek tells him he's in love with him.

Which is hopefully why it seemingly comes out of left field for Stiles and the reader, because that's what I wanted.

[ghostinthegallery]

Meeting Kabru: ooh, he seems interesting. Can't wait to learn more

Learning more: I wanna put you in a jar and shake it you perfect, beautiful, fucked up little man

[prettybbychim]

alien stage couldn’t have come to me at a better time bc as of late, i’ve been steeping in two sizable whump fics with morally dubious relationships/characters so it’s just serving to fuel my stories further (and arguably worse than they already were)

let’s not forget about the choking kink-

[kenonade]

guys idk if u can tell but i did not have english today…

[sendpseuds]

Mike Flanagan is writing a Clayface movie and suddenly I care about comic book movies again

[qu33rr1t4bl3]

arcane is insane. They made it for ME.

[tarvyunderscore]

Y'know what is always insane to stumble upon, those drug simulation videos. Like I saw one for deliriants and bro?? Is your plug the Scarecrow 💀 are you snorting fear toxin???

[jack-starling]

I love rabbits so much, bro. I wanna get so many rabbit tats.

[wonder-harley]

A Touch of Humanity - Din Djarin x gn!reader

re-edited (Feb. 2023)

Read on AO3 - Masterlist

Part II: Endor

Part I | Part III

summary: Din takes you to plenty of places, but there's something about Endor. Something that pushes the two of you closer together than ever. As you begin to accept your voluntary role as Grogu's second parent, Din makes some hefty realizations. You just wish you didn't have to leave Endor. Especially when you find what's waiting for you on the other side.

word count: 11.2k

tags/warnings: fluff, Dad of the year Din, my love for Ewoks prevails, Grogu the menace but also Grogu the matchmaker, domestic bliss, co-parenting, the helmet comes OFF (technically), gift giving is Din's love language, I used canonical places and history until there was no more to go off of and then made up my own to flesh it out, description of anxiety/panic attack

“I need you to breathe,” Din’s voice comes in distant and urgent.

Breathe, right. You need to breathe. 

“C’mon, in one, two, three. Out one, two, three,” Din helps you count your breaths.

When the heaving of your chest comes to a stop, the Razor Crest ceases spinning around you. Everything is steady. Grogu looks up at you from your lap worriedly. Panic dies down to anxiety, allowing thoughts to once again process.

“Are you okay?” Din asks with his hands on your shoulders. 

You didn’t notice him get out of his seat and kneel in front of you. His firm grasp anchors you in the Crest.

“Yeah, I’m good- I’m okay,” you nod.

Din is relieved to see your eyes focus again. One moment you were talking about how striking Nabu looks from space. The next you were hyperventilating. 

“What happened?” 

He doesn’t remove his hands. You don’t intend to ask him to. Not right now at least. For a second time, you wish you could see Din’s face. You wonder what his eyes look like, what color they are. Are they round, or almond-shaped? Are his eyelids hooded? Would their gaze cradle you in tenderness and convince you that everything will be okay the way his hands are? The Corellian silk cools the top of your head, grounding you further. 

“Home is so far away,” you answer quietly.

Guilt strikes through Din’s chest. Maybe asking you to come was selfish. He took a fish out of the water and wondered why it couldn’t breathe. 

“I can take you back. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” he tells you gently.

You’re immediately shaking your head.

“Are you joking? This is everything I’ve ever wanted. It’s just… a lot. I think I need some time to adjust.”

Din nods.

“All you have to do is ask and you’ll be home.”

You give Din a warm smile. One of your hands comes up to cover his gloved one. 

“Thank you, Din. For everything.”

Once again, he nods. Then his hands are gone leaving you to miss their weight. He’s back in the pilot’s seat in a blink. Grogu coos in your lap and gives you a tiny embrace. You hug him back, scratching behind his ears. He purrs at the feeling, eyes falling shut. It makes you chuckle. Din takes the sound as a final signal that you’re okay and begins the journey away from Naboo.

***

Tatooine is so much hotter than you expected. The Corellian silk on your head does an excellent job of keeping you from sweating into your eyes, but you still feel like you’re in an oven.

“I understand why you called this place a boiling Sarlacc pit,” you tell Din as you follow him through the streets of Mos Eisley. 

“We won’t be here long,” he assures you.

Grogu is on your back. You fastened the leather pouch Din puts him in to act as a sort of backpack. The kid’s head is all that’s visible over your shoulder. He coos in your ear when you turn down a street with a stunning view of the Mos Eisley market. It’s a burst of color in an otherwise drab setting. Pigmented cloth awnings, bright fruits and veggies, and all sorts of curiosities to look at. Not to mention the wide array of people. You’ve never seen so many people in one place. Din halts when he notices you have.

“You think so?” you ask Grogu. 

Another little coo. You nod and look back at Din.

“We’re going to camp out here while you get your next job,” you smile.

“Are you sure?” He asks, sounding extremely uncertain.

You pull out your spiral-bound sketchbook that had been looped through the straps against your back. The pencil slides out of the spiral spine into your hand and you hold it up.

“My muse is telling me this is the spot.”

Grogu gurgles in confirmation. Din hesitates. He glances over his shoulder at the market. Surveying the bustling crowd, he sighs. Mos Eisley is a strange new land for you, but you’re an adult. He trusts you in Dee’ja Peak. He has to trust you in Mos Eisley until you give him a reason not to. 

“Keep an eye on things. Any sign of trouble go back to the Crest,” he orders.

“I can handle myself.”

“I was talking to him,” he nods toward Grogu.

Your mouth snaps shut. An indignant pout takes over your face. 

“You’re really telling the kid to keep an eye on things?” 

Din shrugs.

“He’s older than you.”

You scoff and cross your arms.

“He’s still a kid, though,” you argue.

Din looks to Grogu over your shoulder again.

“Watch this one,” his helmet tilts back so you know he’s looking at you, “respect your elders.”

Then he treks away to the sound of your laughter. You find a spot out of the way beside one of the many tan buildings. Grogu makes curious sounds as he watches you sketch out the scenery. As you begin to make everything more solid, you explain the different techniques you’re using to Grogu. You’ve decided to make an artist out of the tiny menace. Maybe then he’ll have an outlet for all that energy and won’t get into so much trouble. 

You don’t notice when he drifts off. Once you’re satisfied with the sketch, you return your sketchbook to where it was. Din still isn’t back and you finally hear Grogu’s soft little snores. You decide to explore the market. There are so many things to see and try. The possibilities get your heart racing. 

First, you try a strange bumpy green fruit. It’s juicy and sweet. Next, you happily eat a skewer of meat. After that, you’re nice and full, so you move on to the curios. The sheer amount of things to look at is overwhelming. Clothes, trinkets, antiques, and furniture. You even find a stand selling board games you recognize from Nabu. A surge of homesickness hits you, but it doesn’t last long. There’s too much excitement being on Tatooine.

“You must’a paid a pretty penny for that,” a Twi’lek merchant with purple-toned skin says. 

You’re at her table looking over the case of different pigment powders she has displayed. Some of the colors you didn’t even know you could get like this. It would make mixing paint a lot easier and give you more colors to choose from. When the Twi’lek speaks your eyes get drawn to her intrigued gaze.

“I’m sorry?” you furrow your brows.

“That’s a fine piece of Corellian silk on your head,” she gestures to the one thing keeping you from having a heat stroke. 

“Oh, thank you. It was a gift,” you say and reach up to brush your fingers over it.

The feel of the fabric brings a reminder of Din, which makes you smile. The merchant nods.

“What would you let it go for?” she asks.

The question startles you a bit. You thought you were here to possibly buy something from her. 

“Nothing, it’s not for sale.”

“Everything is for sale for the right price. What about those pigments? That’s’a fair trade,” she nods to the case you were just examining. 

The offer doesn’t even tempt you. No matter how much you want those pigments.

“No, it isn’t,” a familiar voice says from behind you. 

You look over your shoulder to find Din staring down the Twi’lek. Relief floods your body. You didn’t know how you were going to politely remove yourself from the sudden negotiations. The Twi’lek raises her hands in surrender with a smile.

“Okay, how about the pigments and a hundred credits?”

“It’s really not for sale, but have a nice day,” you smile and turn on your heel. 

Din doesn’t move as you walk away. 

“How much for the pigments, Tiva?” he asks her gruffly.

“For you, Mando. Let’s call it forty-five,” she smiles knowingly.

He nods and hands over the credits. Tiva closes the wooden case and fastens the brassy latch before handing it over to him. It’s about the size of a book so Din doesn’t bother worrying about how much room is left in the Crest.

“I have to say-”

“No, you don’t, but I’m sure you will anyway.”

“I never thought I’d see someone get under that beskar of yours,” she muses. 

“No one’s gotten under my beskar,” he says a little too defensively.

After everything that happened with the Children of the Watch, could he be blamed? He’s already been told he’s no Mandalorian. He isn’t sure he really wants to be, not the kind he was at least. Maybe something more like Boba Fett. Something that gives him the chance at forming real bonds with others. Tiva hums.

“Whatever you say. Until next time, Mando.”

Din nods and follows after you. 

Grogu gurgles inquisitively in your ear. You chuckle a soft good morning to him. His ear brushes the back of your neck as he looks backward. The motion causes you to do the same. Din is further behind than you thought. He’s carrying something you didn’t notice before. There’s a light red blinking coming off the side of his belt. You stop walking to allow him to catch up. When he does he holds out what’s in his hand. The case of pigments from the Twi’lek’s table. You let out a gasp and gently take it in both hands. 

“You didn’t have to,” you breathe.

“I know.”

The soft look you give him is enough to make the spent credits worth it. Suddenly, you’re throwing your arms around him. The beskar is a little hot, but you don’t care. Din’s arms hover in the air for a moment before hesitatingly wrapping around you, just under Grogu. His firm hold around your lower back makes you feel weightless. You squeeze before letting go, not wanting to overstay your welcome in his arms. Din has to stop himself from grabbing onto you and pulling you back in.

“Thank you. I’m going to paint you something when we get back,” you beam at him.

If only you could see the warm smile you received in return.

***

The Twi’lek’s words nag at you the entire time you’re painting. You’re sitting cross-legged in the cockpit with Din. Grogu is fast asleep in his hammock above Din’s bed. From the pilot’s seat, Din can hear the strokes of your paintbrush getting fewer and further between. When you start chewing on the handle he knows something is awry.

“What’s wrong?” he asks without looking back.

“How much did you pay for the Corellian silk?” 

Din simply blinks behind his helmet for a moment. He definitely wasn’t expecting that. 

“It’s rude to tell you the price of a gift,” is his answer.

“No, don’t go all Mandalorian on me. That Twi’lek said it must’ve cost a pretty penny. How much was it?” you’re firmer this time.

“Tiva just likes to cause trouble.”

“Din,” you snap.

“Why is it important?” he snaps back.

A heavy moment passes where you both stew in the tension. You exhale through your nose and go back to painting. Din thinks the conversation is over, but that would just be too easy.

“It’s not that it’s important. I’m just… worried,” you sigh.

“You’re always worried,” his voice softer.

“You always give me something to worry about.”

Another round of silence, but without the tension.

“What have I given you to worry about this time?” he asks gently.

“Giving me so many nice things… I’m afraid you see me more as a babysitter than a friend,” you admit quietly, “I’d really like for you to see me as a friend, Din.”

Din’s stomach does a strange twist. You think he’s paying you? That the things he’s given you are for your time watching Grogu? The truth is, he doesn’t see you as a friend. He sees you as so much more than that. 

You’re what keeps him steady. You’re what keeps him up at night. You’re what he thinks about when he thinks of needing to get home, you with Grogu in your arms. You have given him the closest thing he’s ever had to a real family… and you think he sees you as a babysitter. Where did he go so wrong to give you that impression?

“I don’t see you as a babysitter,” he tells you, looking over his shoulder.

You peak above your sketchbook, eyes meeting the dark of his visor. 

“Do you see me as a friend?” you ask meekly. 

“No.”

Your stomach drops. Din can see the hurt. Before he can finish you disappear back behind the sketchbook.

“I consider you family,” he finishes softly.

He watches your eyes reappear above the binding, wider than before. The tips of your ears are red. Din can feel the small smile grow on his lips. 

“Really?” you whisper. 

“Really.”

“So… you just like getting me gifts?” 

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Din faces forward. He knows you can’t see him, but he doesn’t want to face you as his cheeks heat up. He busies himself with some switches that don’t really do anything. Mostly, he’s flickering the lights in the cargo hold and the exterior landing lights, but you don’t know that.

“They make you happy. I enjoy seeing you happy,” he says, still pretending to do anything of meaning on the control panel. 

Your body floods with a warmth you’ve never experienced before. Everything feels lighter like someone turned off gravity. You want to hug him again, but decide it’s not a good idea while he’s behind the wheel. 

“I consider you family too.”

Din nods and hums in response. Under all that beskar, his skin feels electric. The Razor Crest has never felt more like a home.

***

There’s a shift in your relationship, an ease that creeps in and coats everything. The painting you made for Din after he got you the pigments doesn’t show up in the cockpit as you expect. There are several pieces of your art in there now. All are images of Grogu or Grogu and Din together. So, the absence of the most recent one doesn’t bother you too much. After all, it was only Din in the painting.

It’s the first time you’ve painted or drawn only him. You keep thinking about the way his gloved fingers drifted over it when you gave it to him. They made a light scraping noise against the dry paint but moved gently. The fondness that slipped into his voice when he thanked you has you questioning everything you know about tenderness. In all your life no one has spoken to you with that level of care.

“Stop,” Din’s voice comes sharp from the cargo hold. 

He lets you sit in his bunk to sketch during lengthier periods in the Crest. It’s a neat cozy little space that’s tucked into the wall with the option of a door for privacy. You don’t usually use the door, but Din has made it clear that you can if you’d like to be distraction-free. There’s something in the air in here that isn’t in the rest of the Razor Crest. Something that feels more like Din. Hearing him as you sit there makes you smile while drawing. 

“I said to sto- okay, that’s enough of that,” his frustrated voice carries through the ship once more.

“There, are you happy?”

The sound of metal hitting metal rings out.

“How do I get your arms in this thing? Dank farrik, stop moving,” Din’s voice is thoroughly annoyed.

The noise prompts you to go check in. When you emerge in the cargo hold you keep your sketchbook held against your chest. You see Din struggling with Grogu in the leather pouch. He has it strapped to his front but is struggling to wrangle Grogu’s arms into it. Those arms are wreaking havoc, causing tools that were once fastened against the wall to fly into Din’s armored back.  

“Need help?” you ask, amused. 

Din’s shoulders sag in relief as he looks up at you. 

“I don’t know how you do this,” he sighs, dropping his hands.

Another wrench clinks against his beskar. You laugh and place your sketchbook down on a crate before going to help. 

“Terrorizing your dad, I see,” you chide Grogu. 

The kid coos at you innocently and a screwdriver bounces off Din’s pauldron. You gently take Grogu’s hands. With the help of dramatic motions and silly faces, you tuck his arms into the bag. Then you’re able to secure the top of the bag so only his head could come out. His ears lower as he gurgles indignantly. You give him a boop on his little nose.

“That’s not a very responsible way to wield the Force, young man,” you tell him with a wag of your finger. 

“Thank you,” Din says.

“Do you want me to take him?” you offer with a sympathetic smile.

Din’s hands come up to brace the front of the pouch.

“No, you deserve a break. You can close the bunk door if we’re distracting you,” he reminds you.

The thought on his part makes your heart swell. You do spend a lot of time making sure Grogu doesn’t take the Crest down. It’s a nice feeling to know Din recognizes and acknowledges that. 

“You aren’t. What are you two doing exactly?” you glance around curiously at the scattered tools.

“I was giving the capacitor a tune-up. He was… helping.” 

You laugh and scratch behind Grogu’s ear earning a little purr. Din glances over to the sketchbook you put down. Three detailed sketches of him cover the page. One is his side profile, light glinting off his beskar forehead. The second next to it is him cleaning his blaster. He didn’t even know you were awake when he was doing that. The final sketch is below the two and centered. It’s his hands, just his hands. You’ve captured every wrinkle of his gloves as they hit the buttons on the control panel of the Crest.

Din’s breathing stops as he takes in the intimacy of each captured moment. An intimacy that he didn’t know was there. An intimacy that was so natural he didn’t think about it. An intimacy that didn’t require him to shed his armor.

“Those are good,” he comments with a nod to your sketchbook. 

You look over your shoulder. When you turn back to Din, your face is completely flushed. 

“Uh-thanks. Sorry… if me drawing you is weird. We’re just together a lot and it’s easy to draw what you know,” you rub the back of your neck awkwardly. 

“I don’t mind. I like them,” he assures you. 

You reward him with a small smile.

“So, where are we heading next? I’ve checked off five planets from my must-see list so far,” you quickly change the subject.

“Endor.”

Your face absolutely lights up with excitement. A delighted squeal bursts through your lips as you smile so hard it looks painful. Din’s heart flutters at the sound.

“Finally!” you cheer.

Din chuckles. You grab your sketchbook and walk off toward his bunk, talking to yourself about what you should wear. Grogu gurgles from where he’s strapped to Din’s chest. Din looks down to meet his big questioning eyes.

“What?” he asks the kid.

Grogu coos, raising his ears and looking to where you disappeared. Din follows his gaze to the empty entry of the cargo hold.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he sighs.

By the time he finishes the tune-up, Grogu is out cold. Din brings him to his bunk where you’re asleep. The pillow and blanket are scrunched in a pile beneath you like you made a makeshift chair. Your sketchbook is on your chest and your pencil is still in your hand. He gently places Grogu in his little hammock above you. Then, he carefully takes your sketchbook and extracts the pencil. 

Although he’s tempted, he doesn’t look through your sketchbook. You once told him your sketchbook is like a journal. You just talk in pictures instead of words. Din isn’t willing to invade that privacy. Privacy is a limited resource aboard the Crest, especially for you. You don’t get the luxury of the bunk door every night.

He is willing, however, to take a moment to watch you and Grogu sleep in tandem. Your soft breathing harmonizes with Grogu’s light snores. He’ll have to sleep with his helmet on since he won’t have the door to separate you, but that’s okay. You’ve been sleeping on your cot this entire time. He can take it for a night. 

***

The paper crinkles as you stir. You blink your eyes open. Grogu is sound asleep in his hammock. The crinkling draws your attention again as you sit up. You shift the pillow and blanket to find your painting. It’s stuck to the wall directly next to where his pillow would normally be. The way you had the blanket and pillow pushed up covered it before. You poke your head out of the bunk to see if you can tell where Din is.

The armor on the ground catches your eye instantly. Your gaze travels to your cot where Din is breathing softly, helmet still in place. He’s asleep meaning he’s given you his bed tonight. You put the pillow back where it should go and pull the blanket over your body. When you rest your head on his pillow you get a clear view of your painting of Din. All you need to do is loll your head to the side. 

Warmth spreads to your fingertips and toes. You imagine Din lying here staring at the painting as he drifts off. What does he think about? Do you plague his thoughts the way he does yours? The last thing you see before falling back asleep is the soft image of Din in the cockpit hanging on the wall.

***

Three days on Endor. Din is giving you three days on Endor. He could tell as soon as he saw your face exiting the Crest that you would need more than a day. Your hand is flying across paper the entire time. It gets to the point where you start taking notes for paintings later because you know you won’t have the time to sit here with your easel for all of them. 

The bounty Din was chasing took him all of two hours to catch. The guy is now on carbonite while Din plays tourist with you. Experiencing Endor through your fresh perspective is endearing. Everything is exciting you from the plants, the animals, and the native Ewoks. 

“I can’t go into the forest at home, but it’s all forest here. It’s amazing,” you giggle out as you examine the foliage above. 

Grogu coos adoringly from Din’s chest. The tip of your tongue sticks out as you begin sketching the Lantern Bird you spot in the trees. It’s large, bright pink, and preening. Truly a gorgeous sight that you can’t wait to paint later. You jot down notes of what colors to mix to get what you need. Din watches your diligent work fondly. 

“Dank farrik,” you curse under your breath suddenly. 

Din’s eyebrows shoot up under his helmet. He’s never heard you use that expression before. The thought that he’s rubbing off on you does something to him. It flips something on and suddenly his heart is a motor.

“Is everything okay?” he asks.

You frown and flip furiously through your sketchbook. When you reach the end you sigh and snap it shut. The pages are so distorted from your drawing and painting that it doesn’t shut quite as much as it once did. 

“I’m out of room. I guess we don’t need to stay that long after all,” you tell him with disappointment dripping from every word. 

“There’s a village not far from here on Lake Marudi. We can see if they have any sketchbooks at the market.”

You give him a hopeful smile and nod. Halfway through the trek, Grogu starts to fuss making the two of you halt. Before Din can ask him what’s wrong, you’re slipping him out of the pouch. Grogu coos happily and takes up residence on your shoulders. You smile up at him as he gives your head a little pat to let you know he’s ready to keep going. When your eyes travel to look ahead once more you catch Din staring. 

His helmet is facing you dead on, his hands are still on the pouch as if Grogu never left, and his shoulders are still. You flash him a curious smile, which seems to snap him out of whatever daze he’s fallen into.

“Everything okay?” you ask.

Din clears his throat and nods. Then you continue on. The village really isn’t far. It borders Lake Marudi in a way that reminds you of the river at home. At first, you only see a few huts on the ground. They’re made with the resources around them which are mostly wood, tree fronds, and mud. It looks more like a small encampment than a village.

“I don’t think there’s a market here,” you say to Din as a couple of Ewoks emerge from the huts.

Din simply nudges your shoulder and points up. When you look, you gasp. The village is above you. A network of bridges and thatched huts sit in the trees. Rope ladders hang down to allow easy access. Ewoks can be seen walking across the bridges, going in and out of the structures, and generally living their lives post-war. Instinctively you reach for your sketchbook in a bag on your back but remember it’s full. 

“Stay here, I’ll talk to the hunters,” Din says.

He stalks off before you can argue. You watch him with a small huff as he goes to one of the Ewoks that emerged from the forest floor huts. 

“Y’know one of these days I’m gonna be the one that tells him to stay behind and let me take care of things,” you grumble to Grogu, but mostly to yourself.

Grogu makes a combination of cooing and gurgling. He gives your head another little pat. A small act of loving reassurance.

“Thank you, that does make me feel better,” you sigh. 

Din is on one knee before an Ewok with mud brown fur, a deep green hood, and a bow on its back. You can hear the strange jumble of sounds the Ewok is offering and the way Din returns it without thought. His speaking Ewokese comes as a surprise. You didn’t know he spoke anything other than Basic. After a few moments, Din nods and stands then makes his way back to you.

“You speak Ewokese,” you comment once he’s close enough.

“I speak many languages. He said there’s a market, but he’s not sure they have what we’re looking for.”

“Is it worth checking?” you frown.

“Probably not, but this is your chance to see an Ewok village up close. It’s possible they have other supplies we could use.”

You agree and he makes you go up the ladder first. Grogu hangs onto you for dear life, gurgling in a decidedly displeased tone. He feels much better once you’re securely on the landing. You follow Din through the network of bridges, studying every detail of the village. Up here you can see across Lake Marudi. If you squint you can make out another village on the other shore. A couple of small boats of Ewoks seem to be fishing. 

“Check the market,” Din nods to the larger hut in front of you, “I’m going to speak with the Chief.”

“The Chief? Why?” you question with furrowed brows.

“They’ve asked for my help with a Gurreck.”

At the sound of the beast’s name, a few passing Ewoks give wide-eyed looks. You have no clue what a Gurreck is, but it seems to have them spooked. 

“Okay,” you nod.

The market is small. It mostly has tools, weapons, and different size hoods. You find a table with some wood carvings of creatures native to Endor. Behind the table, an Ewok with black fur is working on another. It’s the only table with any type of art, so you decide to try your luck asking. 

“Um- excuse me,” you say hesitantly. 

The Ewok looks up at you and says something you don’t understand. 

“You don’t happen to speak Ewokese too, do you?” you ask Grogu with a frown.

He gives a gurgle in response.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

You pull out your sketchbook and hold it up to him. 

“Do you know where I can get one of these?” you gesture to it.

The Ewok says something else you don’t understand but reaches out for the sketchbook. You hand it over and watch him look at some of the drawings. He flips to the end and sees your sketches of Endor. Excitedly, he begins pointing at the paper and speaking Ewokese again. 

“Yeah, that’s Endor. I want to do more of that, but I need another book. Or even just paper,” you attempt to explain. 

The Ewok points to the sketch of the Lantern Bird and then back at himself. When you give him a confused look he repeats the motion with more enthusiasm. 

“Oh- you want me to draw you? I can do that, but I need something to draw on.”

The Ewok nods and shuts the book, handing it back to you. You watch as he lifts a floorboard and begins to dig around. He triumphantly pulls out a couple of pieces of handmade paper. You take them gratefully as he points to the paper and then to himself.

“One portrait, coming right up!”

Din finds you still in the market with a gathering of Ewoks before you. You’re sketching images of them. As always, the tip of your tongue is sticking out in concentration. Grogu notices Din first and greets him with a gurgle. The noise causes you to glance up. When you spot Din you give him a wide grin that just about makes him trip on his own feet. You put a finishing touch on the drawing and hand it to the Ewok in front of you. They all excitedly pass it around to take a look.

“How’d talking to the Chief go?” You ask as you wade through a dozen Ewoks to get over to him.

“I’m leaving with the hunting party to kill the Gurreck. I shouldn’t be more than a few hours,” he explains. 

You glance over your shoulder at the chittering Ewoks, still examining your drawing. 

“I think I’ll be okay here while you’re gone.”

“Keep an eye on things.”

You roll your eyes.

“I don’t think the kid has to watch out for me here.”

“I was talking to you.”

Your eyebrows shoot up and your mouth forms an oh. 

“Don’t worry, with the power of my pencil I’ll guard the village,” you smile.

“I don’t doubt that.”

Din gives Grogu a small scratch behind his ear. You expect him to leave after that, but then his hand finds a firm grasp on your upper arm, just beneath your shoulder. After a brief squeeze, he’s gone. You can still feel the pressure of his hand on your arm even after he’s far out of view.

***

The Gurreck proved to be more of a pain than Din thought. Once it was down, the Ewoks with him broke into cheers. The beast has killed several of their villagers and its meat will feed dozens more. It’s not often Ewoks get to say they’ve slain a Gurreck. The hunting party informs him that there will be a celebratory festival held for the occasion. 

Din is itching to get back to you and Grogu as night crawls across the sky. He knows that despite their stature, Ewoks are impressive warriors. You’ll both be safe there. So, it’s a strange sensation when what’s drawing him back so fiercely isn’t the need to ensure you’re protected. He just wants to see you. After that exhausting fight and being thrown into a couple of trees, he wants to hear your voice. A sound he’s grown accustomed to in the Crest. A sound he’s going to miss deeply when he brings you home.

When they arrive back in the village, Gurreck in tow on a wagon, it feels like the entire village is already outside. They’re all trying to get into the Chief’s living quarters. At first, Din thinks the chittering he’s hearing is anger. Once he listens a little harder he realizes it’s excitement. 

One of the Ewoks with Din shouts up to the crowd. As soon as they see the dead Gurreck, cheers break out and they come scrambling down to help with preparing the meat. Din is about to ask your whereabouts when you emerge on the bridge above with the Chief. You’re draped in garlands and flowers. There’s even a small flower crown on Grogu.

“I think they like me,” you call down to him with a smile.

There’s nothing but joy written on your face. You quickly follow the Chief down. Grogu once again holds on for dear life. When your feet hit the ground you take Grogu off your shoulders and carry him on your hip. The Chief leads you to Din. He approaches Din with open arms. A gesture Din knows isn’t an ask for a hug, but an expression of appreciation. The Chief begins to talk before you can. 

Din nods as the Chief thanks him not only for the Gurreck but for you. You were wrong. They don’t like you, they absolutely love you. Anxiety rises in Din’s throat when the Chief offers you a place in the village to stay. Forever. He’s tempted to not mention it when he translates. He doesn’t want you to tell him you’ll stay. He doesn’t want to go back to the Crest without you. 

“I don’t know what he said, but they’ve been really excited about my drawings,” you tell him proudly. 

Grogu reaches a hand toward Din. You hand him over with ease. It’s almost like Grogu can sense the complicated emotions running through him. 

“He said you’ve made significant cultural contributions with your drawings. They haven’t had documentation of their lives like that before,” he translates the part of the message that doesn’t make him nervous. 

Somehow, your smile brightens even more. You lift one of the flowery garlands off of your shoulders and place it over Din. The inside of his beskar is suddenly twenty degrees hotter. 

“Thank you for bringing me here,” your words are soft and filled with an emotion Din can’t place.

He nods because he doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t even know if he could speak if he wanted to. 

“They’ll be having a festival tonight to celebrate killing the Gurreck,” he manages to get out in a normal tone.

“That’s so exciting! Can we stay for it?” 

“They’re expecting us, it would be rude not to.”

The Chief grabs your hand and begins to pull you away from Din. You throw him one last smile over your shoulder before you’re dragged into the crowd of Ewoks. He lets out a sigh. Grogu gurgles in Din’s arms, his flower crown falling a little over his eyes. Din pushes it back into place.

“I know,” he responds to the kid.

Both Din and Grogu know that Din has it bad for you. There’s nothing scarier to a Mandalorian than the prospect of allowing themself something they want. And he wants you oh-so badly. 

***

The firelight dances across the paper giving the illusion of the little Ewoks you drew walking. It’s a beautiful thing, but Din finds the firelight dancing across your features much more interesting. One of the benefits of existing primarily behind the helmet means he can stare. Just because he’s facing your way doesn’t mean he’s looking at you and there’s no way for you to tell for sure. He revels in the small moments where he allows himself the luxury of staring at you. 

The Ewoks are gathered all around you, watching the drawing in awe. Grogu chases little rodents that reside in the trees. There’s music being played off of wooden instruments, and even a few stormtrooper helmets as drums. A handful of Ewoks sing in Ewokese. You take another piece of the paper they’ve been steadily giving you and you begin to show them how to do it themselves. It’s been like this for the past couple of hours. You’ve been showing them how to draw, what to use, and drawing for them nonstop. Truthfully, your hand is starting to cramp.

“Din,” you call over the heads of the Ewoks from where you sit on a log. 

Din stands and starts to go to you.

“Can you tell them my hand hurts so I need to stop?” you ask, looking guilty. 

He makes the announcement to the Ewoks, all of whom are visibly disappointed. Until the Chief tells them that you may be staying. The sudden cheers earn Din a confused look from you. He gestures for you to come to him and leads you back to the log he was sitting on across the fire.  

Din’s eyes stay trained on Grogu pouncing on a mouse as you sit beside him. Ewoks begin to bring you food and drinks, all of which you accept graciously despite already being full. 

“The Chief has offered to let you stay. He wants you to continue your work here,” Din tells you, voice tight. 

“Oh,” is all you say.

You stare into the round wooden cup full of green liquid that’s in your hands. Din doesn’t say anymore. He doesn’t give any indication of whether he would want you to stay and that makes you nervous. Is he going to leave you on Endor?

“Do you… want me to stay?” you ask timidly.

He finally looks at you. When he does his shoulders straighten out, his head tilts a little to one side, and you can read the befuddlement all over him. It’s been getting easier to read him and the little movements that give him away.

“Do you want to stay?” he counters.

You furrow your brows and press your mouth into a thin line.

“I asked you first.”

Din turns back to where Grogu is slurping the mouse’s tail down. His arms are resting on his thighs, hands hanging in the middle, and his back is hunched. You wonder if he’s tired. You wonder how heavy all that beskar is and if he ever feels like he might collapse under the weight of it.

“No, I don’t want you to stay,” he answers, his voice raw with honesty.

“Do you think I do?”

“I think… I know that you’re happy here. You’re celebrated here. I can understand not wanting to leave that,” his voice is only getting softer with each fireside confession.

“Din, please look at me,” you plead in a whisper.

When he does, your expression is gentle and understanding. He feels wrapped in comfort and safety by your eyes. 

“We’re a family, remember? I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me to,” you say every word with intentional confidence.

“I’m not going to tell you to go anywhere.”

“Then I’m not going anywhere.”

You exchange tender smiles, only you don’t know that. Din is so very aware that you can’t see the adoration he’s sending your way. He wants more than anything to be able to convey the fullness you’ve given his life. He has never felt like a complete person. Grogu filled in one-third of what he was missing. 

You’ve filled the last third, completing him and life on the Crest. He thinks part of him always knew that you would. That’s why he kept finding himself on your doorstep, enjoying your kindness, and appreciating how you are with the kid. He’s never had a way with words so he got you gifts instead. Only, he knows the gifts aren’t enough to translate what he wants them to. That feeling can only be spoken.

“You’re tired, we should head back to the Crest,” you say softly.

“It’s too dangerous to travel in the dark. They’ve set up a tree hut for us,” he informs you, voice low and tone inscrutable.

“Lead the way, then.”

A tan Ewok leads you up a tree and across several bridges. The hut you’re brought to is decently removed from the others. It almost seems like the village was once larger and this is a remnant of that. Inside there are just two sleep mats three feet apart. The light from the torches outside affords some visibility. Sharing a tree hut concerns you for Din’s comfort. He’s already had to sleep on your cot with his helmet on. 

“You can ask to sleep elsewhere. I won’t be offended,” you tell him as you sit on one of the mats. 

Grogu climbs onto it next to you and curls up. He’s asleep in no time. You don’t know how he does that.

“I would rather stay if you don’t mind.”

A bashful smile forms on your lips as you nod. 

“Do you want help with your armor?” you offer, knowing he doesn’t need it this time. 

He’s sore, but he’s not really injured. He’s perfectly capable of doing it himself, but he nods anyway. Din finds solace in your fingers plucking his armor off of him one piece at a time. The brush of them through his flight suit leaves trails of flames. Each time a piece of armor comes off he feels infinitely lighter, despite beskar already being lightweight. Soon, he’s left in only his flight suit and helmet. The rest of his armor is neatly organized at the end of the other mat. 

You spend an unsure moment in front of him. Your fingers tingle with the urge to remove his helmet next, but you refrain. That isn’t your choice to make. It’s only your choice to respect.

“I… I could use the Corellian silk to cover my eyes if you want to take your helmet off tonight,” you make the offer quietly, unsure if it’s crossing a line.

“You don’t mind?” 

“No, not if it means you’ll get a better night’s sleep.”

Din nods. He watches intently as you slip the fabric off of your head, hair flat where it once was. You fold it a few more times to make it thinner until it’ll only cover your eyes. The silk is cool and liquidy soft on your skin. You fumble trying to tie it around your head until Din’s gloved hands cover your own. 

Your breathing stops once you feel how close he is. He gently ties the silk not too tight, but enough so it won’t move. He receives an appreciative smile in return. You hear a short hiss as he releases his helmet. With a racing heart, you listen to him slide it off and place it on the ground with the rest of his armor. You don’t move, afraid to do something that might make the silk fall. 

He’s in front of you again. You can feel his heat. You can actually hear him breathing, a surreal sound. Din studies your face with his own eyes for the first time. No visor separating him from you. The little fish swimming on the Corellian silk over your eyes calls for him to remove it. To let you see, but he doesn’t. It feels like too much for one night. His nerves are already on fire.

You raise a shaky hand, inching it toward where his face would be. When the warmth from his skin hits your palm, you stop. Is touching him wrong? You don’t get a chance to think about it too much. Din turns and leans his head to nuzzle the side of his face into your palm. A gasp escapes your lips at the sensation.

The first thing to strike you is he has facial hair. It’s short and coarse against your hand. Then your thumb brushes across his cheekbone and you can feel the definition. You don’t want to move your hand. You don’t want to take more than he’s willing to give. Standing there with your skin on his, Din is willing to give you everything.

You can hear a shuffling and two soft thuds. Then his strong, warm, bare hand covers yours. You know your face must be entirely red by this point and can only hope the low light conceals it. He moves his face more, planting a small tender kiss on your palm. Maker, you didn’t know your heart could beat this fast. You didn’t know touching someone could feel so good.

His other hand takes your free hand and moves it to the other side of his face. You realize, he’s inviting you in. He’s inviting you to explore his face with your hands. It’s an invitation you accept without hesitation. Gentle fingers trace the downward curve of Din’s nose, glide over his strong brow, brush his eyelids, and finally take in the softness of his lips. Even with only your fingers, you can tell he’s smiling fondly. It occurs to you that Din isn’t breathing. One hand travels down his neck until it settles on the center of his chest. His heart is pounding as hard as yours, which makes you smile.

You grab Din’s hands and direct them to your face. He cradles your jaw so tenderly you want to cry. How could hands that take down beasts and bounties handle you with such loving care? With a smile, you turn and give Din’s palm a kiss to match the one he gave you. 

There’s a moment when the galaxy stops. Everything around the two of you ceases to exist. There are only Din’s hands on your jaw and your hands around his wrists. He wants to stay connected to you like this forever. He never wants to forfeit the warmth and softness of your skin again but knows he must. So, for now, he’ll soak in every bit of you that he can. For a heart-stopping moment, you think he’s going to kiss you. You want him to kiss you. 

His strong hands bring you closer to him. Then, the softest brush of his lips meets your forehead before pulling away. It’s so much, yet not enough. It’s the only moment you find yourself wishing you could be Sola’s type of selfish. The kind where you just take because you want to. Yet, you’re happy that you’re not. You’re elated that Din is giving to you. You don’t have to take, he’s slowly offering up parts of himself. Parts you’ll treasure.

“Goodnight,” he whispers.

His voice without the modulator sends a chill down your spine. That low cool tone is still present, but it’s also smoother. He has a voice like the river at home: cool to the touch, but the further you step in the more the bite becomes gentle kisses at your shins. Like the water is loving you back. His voice makes you miss home, but also feel at home right where you are. 

“Goodnight,” you whisper back.

Then his touch is gone and you wonder who you were before you felt it.

***

You’re alone when you wake up. Din and his armor are gone. So is Grogu. The ghost of Din’s skin is still on your hands. Your sleep was filled with the feel of his face. It takes a minute to straighten yourself out before you leave the tree hut. As you walk by them, the Ewoks are sending happy-sounding words your way. All of which you return with a smile. 

After a few minutes of walking aimlessly trying to find Din, you decide to try to ask. 

“Do you know where my friend is?” you ask a white Ewok you run into.

The Ewok responds in Ewokese, but you can see the question on her face. You put your hands in the air on either side of your head, palms facing in. Then you do a move up and down as if you’re taking a helmet off. Your face heats up at the memory of last night.

“Y’know, the guy with the helmet,” then you make a cradling motion, “and the baby?”

The Ewok nods and takes your hand. You’re led to a large tree hut near the center of the village. In it, there are Ewoks eating at tables. Sticking out like a sore thumb, Din sits at a too-small table with Grogu while he sloppily eats something mushy. He perks up when you enter. You smile as you sit across from them.

“Does that taste good?” you ask Grogu as he devours his food. 

He gives you a little coo in confirmation. 

“Are you hungry? I can grab you some,” Din offers.

A fire lights in you. You nod, unable to get words around the lump in your throat. He gets up and heads to where the food is being served. You lean your face on your hand and watch him go. Grogu coos, drawing your attention. 

“What’s up, li’l guy?” 

He brings his plate over and sits next to you with it. You scratch behind his ears and he purrs as he continues eating. A soft chuckle tumbles out at his grab for attention. You love how much the kid seems to love you. Especially because you love the kid so damn much. It hits you that, if necessary, you would die for this little green terror. You wouldn’t even think about it. Is this what being a parent is? you wonder.

Din places the food in front of you. You were so wrapped up in Grogu you hadn’t realized he made it back. You thank him with a smile and start eating.

Din had his eyes glued on you the whole way back. The loving gaze you had fixed on Grogu nearly took him out. He doesn’t know how Grogu managed to find the one other person in this galaxy that he could believe loves Grogu as much as he does. Out of every house on Naboo, out of every person in Dee'ja Peak, Grogu ended up with you. Din has never been much for fate, destiny, or the Force, but the kid came along and changed one of those. It’s possible you’ve changed the other two. 

“Did you sleep well?” you ask him.

“Yes. Did you?”

“Yeah, better than I thought I would. I think those sleep mats are more comfortable than the cot,” you chuckle.

Din stiffens briefly.

“I’m sorry about that. We can rotate beds,” he says.

“Oh, no, it’s okay. I didn’t say that to-”

“I know you didn’t.”

You can tell the smile that appears on your face is sappy, but you can’t help it. Din is here doing things to let you know that he sees what you do for him and wants to return the favor. Din, who has been taking you around the galaxy, something you thought you would never be able to do. Din, who gets you gifts just because they made him think of you. Din, whose skin was on yours last night, whose face was beneath your fingers. He’s sitting here caring for you like it’s part of his daily routine. You guess in some ways it is. Things just feel different now, in so many ways. 

When you’re finished eating, the three of you go to see the Chief. You have to let him know you appreciate the offer, but you won’t be staying. Din does all the talking really, but you figured it would be bad manners not to show your face. The Chief, although clearly disappointed, nodded in understanding. Din didn’t relay this bit, but he said he understood the two of them have a responsibility as parents. Parents. He’s used to being called Grogu’s dad, father, or parent. This is the first time he’s heard it plural in any language. He quite likes it.

The Chief calls for something. Two Ewoks, one gray and one black, carry something in. They present it to you. Your jaw drops when you realize what it is. A sketchbook. The cover is made from bark, there’s a thick stack of paper bound between with a branch that was carved into a spiral. It’s handmade. The Chief says something directly to you.

“He says this is a gesture of gratitude and a symbol that you have allies on Endor,” Din translates. 

“Is it okay to hug him?” you ask, eyes watery.

Din asks and the Chief nods. You kneel down and take him in your arms. His fur is a little itchy, but it’s a nice hug. As you stand, you wipe away some stray tears. You accept the sketchbook and hold it to your chest. You’re closer to Din than you were before. 

“Is it okay if we stay here while we’re still on Endor? I’d really like to get this place down for myself,” you nod at the sketchbook in your arms.

Din says something to the Chief you don’t understand. The Chief nods as he responds.

“The tree hut is ours for as long as we need it,” Din relays to you.

“I better get started then. There’s a lot I want to draw.”

***

Din follows Grogu around as he explores, redirecting him when need be. He’ll help an Ewok here and there if they ask, but otherwise, it’s a pretty calm day. A little after midday he realizes he didn’t see you get lunch. When Grogu finishes his meal of mashed grubs Din finds something more suitable for a human to eat. He manages to get a grilled piece of Gurreck. 

“Can you let me put you in this, this time?” he asks Grogu, holding up the pouch. 

Grogu lowers his ears and gurgles from beside Din on the table. Din sighs.

“I’ll let you hunt mice tonight,” he tempts the kid.

It works. Grogu holds his arms up for Din to grab him. He doesn’t struggle when Din places him in the pouch. Din even gets his arms in it. Then the two of them are off to find you. It doesn’t take long. You’re sitting with your back to one of the giant tree trunks near the central tree hut. As always, the tip of your tongue is out as your hand moves furiously across the page. You’re already several pages into the sketchbook.

“We brought you lunch,” he says as he approaches.

Your gaze flies up to him filled with surprise. Then it registers and a smile breaks out. Din loves how much you smile. He’s never met someone so willing to smile at him. You pop up from where you sat.

“Aren’t you two sweet! Thank you,” you place a kiss on the top of Grogu’s head.

Looking back at Din, you hesitate. Kissing him next felt like the natural thing to do, but how would you go about that? Dank farrik, you think. You place a hand on the cheek of his helmet. The impulse wins. Your lips meet the cold beskar of the other cheek briefly. Beneath that helmet Din’s head is spinning. When he’s in his armor he isn’t supposed to be the recipient of gentle touch. Only violent blows and blaster fire. Yet, here you are treating him with all the tenderness of the night before.

“I can’t believe you got him in the pouch,” you chuckle as you take the food from Din.

“I had to bribe him with mice,” he admits.

“Hey, whatever works,” you shrug.

“It looks like you might fill that before we get off Endor,” Din nods to your sketchbook.

You laugh shyly.

“Everything is just so beautiful here and the Ewoks have been so nice. Then there was the festival last night and… I want to remember it all.”

The word all hangs heavy in the air. You sit back down crisscrossed, plate balancing on one thigh. Then you flash Din another one of those smiles.

“You’re welcome to join me if you’d like. Might get boring, though.”

Din sits down beside you. Grogu coos in a pleased manner. You continue drawing between bites. The village spreads out on the page exactly as it is in real life, just in graphite. You have notes scribbled around about color and atmosphere. There’s an attention to detail that’s impressive. He thinks he could watch you do this all day. He thinks he could watch you do this forever.

Have you ever thought about staying? you had asked him. The answer is yes, he has. He thought about staying ever since returning from Endor with that first gift. Staying just isn’t something he was sure he could do. He didn’t know if he was built to be what you need in a real home. Sitting here with you as you draw and Grogu coos softly against his chest, he starts to wonder if he could be one day. 

***

Nightfall brings about less celebration this time, but it’s just as welcoming. The Ewoks feed you. They happily look through the drawings you got done that day as you eat. Din eats elsewhere, but he’s back soon. You can only imagine he scarfed the food down as fast as he could. When he spots you, you swear you see him relax slightly. 

As he sits beside you, the Ewoks flip to a page with a drawing of Din. A tan one points excitedly at the drawing then at Din exclaiming something in Ewokese. Your face glows bright once you realize what’s happening. 

The drawing shows Din carving a spear. He figures you must have drawn it earlier in the day. He was helping the hunters make more to replace the ones they lost fighting the Gurreck. As always, it’s a perfect depiction. Din’s stomach takes on a weird weightless sensation. 

“Why do you draw me so much?” he can’t help, but ask.

He can’t figure out why you take him on as a subject so often. It’s not that he doesn’t like it. Din enjoys the feeling of being intimately known in an indescribable way. He likes knowing you don’t just look at him. You observe, you take in every detail he has to offer, and you turn them into art. 

You can hear your heart in your ears. You can’t look at him. There’s no good answer to it. None that wouldn’t make you sound like a complete weirdo who likes to stare. What can you say other than the truth, though?

“I like looking at you,” you answer softly, eyes meeting his visor again.

Your eyes are wide, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Din’s own face catches fire, a familiar feeling around you at this point. His fists clench on his thighs. The urge to rip his helmet off floods him. You like looking at him, but you’ve only ever seen his armor. You’ve only ever seen the Mandalorian. You’ve never seen Din. 

He struggles with words for a moment. There are so many things he could say. So many things he wants to say. All he can get out is the bare minimum, the tip of the iceberg.

“I like looking at you too.” 

Embarrassment slips away and another smile takes over your features. Din watches you continue eating. Occasionally, you stop to dote over Grogu. He thinks about your touch, your kiss on his palm and his beskar, your overall caring demeanor. He thinks about kissing you tonight. A deep tug of desire pulls at his stomach.

Maybe Din is a little too eager to get to bed. If you catch that, you don’t say anything. Instead, you silently carry a snoring Grogu to the tree hut. You place him on your sleep mat and watch for a moment. His little chest moves up and down, a motion that brings you comfort. 

When you turn around, Din is standing in the center of the hut. You can’t tell for sure, but you have a feeling he’s been watching you. Deja vu hits and you decide to lean into it.

“Do you want help with your armor?”

Din nods. You start the process that’s beginning to feel like a routine. He stays still, committing your touch to memory, burning it into his skin through the flight suit. Every piece is on the ground, but his helmet. The torchlight bounces off his breastplate, softening the harder edges. 

“Would you mind…,” he trails off.

With a small smile, you slip the Corellian silk off of your head and fold it. This time rather than fumble with it you give it to Din and turn around. He ties it with the same firmness as last time. Slowly you turn back around. There’s that hiss, the sound of the helmet being put down, and Din stepping closer to you. Your heart leaps.

His fingers are bare when they cup your face. Soft despite the strength they hold, and warm despite the cold exterior they usually reside in. The soft pads of his thumbs caress your cheeks. You soak in every bit of him you can. Until you decide, just this once, to take instead of receive. Small details that have occupied your thoughts.

“What color are your eyes?” you ask.

“Brown.”

Your skin buzzes with the information. His voice sends electricity down your spine.

“Your hair?”

“Brown.”

“Is it wrong to try to picture you?”

It’s the sincerity behind the question that does it. The genuine concern for his comfort and boundaries. Din pulls you into a fervent kiss. He kisses you like he’s gasping for air. Your hands fly to the back of his neck. His hair is short, you discover this when you trail fingers up the back of his head. It’s softer than you imagined. Everything about him is so much softer than you would have ever imagined before getting to know him. 

Your lips move against his effortlessly. Din’s teeth lightly catch your bottom lip, earning him access to your mouth. His tongue meets yours briefly, mingling the tastes of dinner with a hint of mintiness. Then his mouth is gone much too soon. You would think you hallucinated the whole thing if it weren’t for his hands still holding your face. His breathing is just as ragged as yours while you try to compose yourselves.

Something changes in the air between you. It’s like you can feel the expression he has fixed on you. An expression of adoration and awe, one you’re sure you’re mirroring. Homesickness has never felt so far from your mind. You’re sure now that home is wherever and whenever Din’s lips are on yours. Everything you associate with home filled that kiss: warmth, care, affection, and mutual respect. Standing here with your eyes covered, you feel like you’ve never seen the galaxy this clearly. You’ve never understood life this fully.

“I’ve never cared for someone the way I care for you,” he tells you, his cool voice gentle and tender. 

“I’ve never cared for someone the way I care for you,” you smile, returning his sentiment.

The words wrap around the two of you, bringing you closer together. Din’s thumbs slide beneath the Corellian silk. They brush over your eyelids. The skin is smooth. He can feel your eyes move before his thumbs slide away to go back to cradle you. 

He longs to be brave enough to push the silk away, tear it off, and throw it across the hut. He’s brave enough to fight battalions, but tonight he can’t find the bravery to look directly into your eyes. With a twist of his stomach, he settles for resting his forehead against yours.

“I don’t want to go back to the way things were,” he whispers, breath skirting across your skin.

Your eyebrows furrow beneath his.

“What do you mean?”

“I want to stay like this. I don’t want to return to a life of merely visiting you, of only getting you in pieces. I want you wholly. I want you always,” each word is dipped in affection and pushed out earnestly.

You’re grateful for your eyes being covered. His words bring you next to tears. They grab your heart and squeeze it in your chest. It doesn’t matter what’s left to see out there in the galaxy. This spot right here on Endor is your favorite.

“You can have me as long as I can have you,” you whisper back.

A dozen butterflies have found their way into Din’s stomach. His heart flutters with their wings. He has the entire galaxy in his hands in the shape of your face. 

“You can have me endlessly.”

“Then you can have me endlessly too.”

He presses another, lighter kiss to your lips. It’s short but oh-so-sweet. Chaste, yet still spurs on the raging fire within you. Somehow the two of you find the strength to go your separate ways to bed. You listen to Grogu’s snores beside you. When you caress his head, he curls into you. You keep an arm around him, keeping him secure by your side.

***

The next day the three of you make the hike back to the Crest. Along the way, you stop to draw more things you see. Din is convinced you could find a way to fit all of Endor on a piece of paper if it means taking it with you. He lets Grogu chase after bugs while you draw. 

You even draw Grogu a few times in his calmer moments. Din is in no rush to get back to the Crest so he doesn’t hurry you along. He waits patiently, never once uttering something even close to a complaint. Back on the Crest, he listens to you go on about all the painting you want to do. He chuckles when you make a joke about your hand falling off and tells you he’d rather have you in one piece. 

Your stay on Endor has been drawn out for as long as it can be. There’s a pang in your chest as you watch the forest fall away and the atmosphere fades into space. Yet, there’s a deep comforting sense that you have left Endor with so much more than you arrived with.

Tatooine has become a familiar sight. Din has to stop in to collect his payment and get a new bounty. Sometimes Peli has to fix up the Crest. She’s rough around the edges, but you like her. You like how she treats Grogu and how she isn’t afraid to say what she wants to Din. 

Stepping off the Crest, Grogu in the pouch on your back, you call out for Peli happily. 

“There you are,” a chilling voice answers to your left.

You whip around, heart flying into your throat, and hand grabbing Din’s wrist next to you. On top of two stacked crates sits Sola. Her hands grip the edge of the crate on either side of her, legs crossed at the ankles as she swings them a bit. A dangerous smirk crawls onto her face.

“Heard you’ve been lookin’ for me.”

[tr4panrot]

watching spiderverse a million times isn't enough, I need that shit injected directly into my veins