Some Fucking Resources For All Ur Writing Fuckin Needs

Some doodles of the Smiling Banker Man.

A Good Nights Rest

word count: 785

genre: fluff, slice of life

pairings: Ayato x gn! reader

warnings: none

additional notes: here’s the first of m a n y Ayato oneshots, I love him so much so I will definitely write abt him a lot. If you have any suggestions or you have anything you would like me to write don't be afraid to send me an ask !!

Want to be tagged in my works click here

   The pink and oranges that paint the sky fade into the purple of the nation of eternity. The fan you hold hides the bottom half of your face, leaving those around you to have to guess what you are thinking. As you walk through the main square of Inazuma, you catch sight of a specific stand that holds your lover's favorite drink. 

   You take a slight detour from your previous destination, heading toward the stand you and your husband frequent. The stand owner recognizes you almost immediately, giving you a smile before making your order. You make small talk as he does, before placing the correct amount of mora on the table. Grabbing the drinks, you send the stand owner one last smile. 

   You walk your way through Inazuma, toward the Estate you had been away from the entire day. The sky has darkened at this point, fireflies starting to light the way along with the many glowing plants that populate the nation. You enjoy the scenery as you walk, allowing you to mentally plan an outing for you and your husband. The gates and guards of the Kamisato estate slowly become visible, causing you to speed up a little. 

   You pass the guards with a tilt of the head, allowing a smile to stretch your lips. You haven’t seen your husband all day, and you were craving the warmth he holds. The door to the estate is quickly pulled open as you approach, Thoma standing there with his usual smile. 

   “Good evening! How was your day in the city,” he questions, continuing to sweep the entranceway as you chat. “My day was good Thoma, there should be a few things that are shipped here tomorrow so please be on the lookout for that.” “Of course!” “Also, after you finish sweeping the entryway, you are excused for the night. I can take care of Lord Kamisato from here,” You send him a charming smile. 

   He nods and smiles at you as well. You quickly toe your shoes off then continue your way through the maze of an estate. The door to your lover’s office finally comes into view, it has probably only been opened a few times for Thoma to drop off tea or a meal for him. You quickly maneuver the drinks in your hands to make it possible to open the door.

   The opening of the door doesn’t alert your husband of your entrance and neither does the placing of the drinks on the desk. You walk behind him, quickly lacing your arms over his shoulders from behind, surprising him enough to quickly whip his head toward your own. Once he sees you, his once tense shoulders soften, a charming smile curving his lips upward. The mole underneath his lower lip moving with the curve of his lip, making the smile all the more gorgeous. 

   He notices the staring and his once charming smile quickly shifts into a sly smirk. He raises his head a little, his nose brushing against yours causing your face to flush the slightest bit. Even after being married to the man, the smallest things he does still affect you. Your own smile doesn’t dim in the slightest while you lean in the final inch to connect your lips. 

   The feeling of what could be compared to butterflies erupts in your stomach as he tilts his head a little. Your eyes flutter close as the kiss continues. He leans back slightly before laying his forehead against yours. He chuckles slightly as your eyes open to meet with his icy ones. “Welcome home honey,” his smile stays in place as he says these words. “It is late, you should continue on your way to our chambers to get the optimal amount of sleep.” He places a chaste peck to your cheek before turning to continue his work. 

   You sigh slightly, making Ayato shiver slightly at the sensation, before your hand grips his chin. His wide eyes meet your calm ones as you turn his head toward you, “as you said sweetheart, we should continue to our chamber to get the optimal amount of sleep.” The emotion behind your eyes glints playfully as you slowly start to remove yourself from him. 

   “It has been so long since I've fallen asleep beside my husband, I do hope he knows what he’s doing my heart,” you tease, walking away from him and toward the door. He chuckles while watching you disappear into the hallway, before grabbing another document to scan over in the candlelight. Your head pops up from behind the door and he looks up to find you smirking at him. 

   “Come on casanova, it's time for you to go to sleep.”

taglist:

Coincidence? Let’s Hope It Is

When you get inspiration to make a smau–

First smau, let’s hope this works. I’m making an Ukai Keishin x reader smau!

The way it all started was by stealing a bunch of tomatoes, everything down spiraled from there.

PROFILES | INTRO |

Grocery Shopping

Running with a Bag of Tomatoes

Who Was That?

Who Was That II

Daichi’s Sister

After the Match

Taking the Chance

Look Over Your Shoulder

Pause

Make Your Choice

Who Is In Control?

Quis Sum Ego?

I Need To Talk To You

See You Again

Never

Things We Can Never Have.

Another

Liar

And So It Goes

Victorious

Epilogue

I can’t wait to get to the epilogue, lowkey.

Astarion’s Hair: A Comic

Edit: there is now a part 2

(Edited to increase text size for readability)

Little Leopard [1]

"If it weren't for seven men that fateful night you wouldn't be here now. They showed you good people did exist. That life can be great, that you can be loved and cared for. These seven men were the men you loved and cherished. These men were your mates. Your safety blanket. And to them. You were their Little Leopard.

Pairing: OT7 X Hybrid!Reader

Genre: Hybrid! AU, Strangers to Lovers! AU, Rich!BTS, Fluff, Angst(And I mean Angst), Polyamorous!BTS

Warnings: Past Abuse/Sexual Abuse, Explicit Language, Anxiety, Suicidal Thoughts, Mentions of blood/injuries, Trust Issues.

Word Count: 2.2K

Author Note: I wrote this when I had a sudden urge to write ad this is the outcome, I hope you guys enjoy it, it's quite depressing but I promise there is a happy ending and that themes do get brighter the more you read, it's not my best but I did my best since I haven't written properly for a while! Our Good Girl will be released soon I promise!

This was it. This was the end of the miserable thing you called life. Finally sweet sweet release from the years of abuse and torment. It was finally ending, your body had enough, you were giving up. You had enough and it seems the universe has had enough of you too.

For years you had been bought, sold, traded to different owners. Not one treated you well. Being a rare breed of hybrid caused you to be shipped off constantly to different owners, either for money or simply for your new owner’s entertainment. It had been an endless cycle since you were a cub. Torn from your parents so young that you can’t even remember them.

Your final owner had been the worst, you were used to the poor treatment but this time had been too much. Beaten black and blue to the point of barely conscious, he thought you were already dead, demanding his bodyguard to dispose of you, which leads to where you are now, a bloody pulp, curled up in a glacial and damp alleyway, shivering and barely able to stay awake, life feeling like it’s being sucked out of you, there was no one to help, everyone inside from the pouring rain and night sky. It’s not like they would anyway. You couldn’t cry out for help even if you wanted to. So here you are, accepting death's kiss willingly. Your misery was finally about to en-

Your hybrid ears twitch at the sound of voices, two to be precise. You could barely open your eyes, you just wanted to give up. You didn’t want any more suffering yet you prepared yourself for it.

“No, I swear I saw someone dump something here Joonie! They looked so sketchy I just want to make sure it’s nothing harmful! Kids walk this street all the time, what if it’s something that could hurt them?”

“Jimin, if that's the case then we should call the police to deal with this instead. Are you one hundred per cent sure you saw someone dump something here?”

“Yes, Namjoon! Are you doubting me? Let’s see what it was first before we do anything, we don’t want to waste their time if there is nothin- Is that blood?”

The two men were immediately much more alert and worried, the tallest pushing the youngest behind him as they peer properly into the alleyway, turning their lights on their phones on and gasping in horror seeing the small malnourished body curled up and fighting for their life.

“Oh my god Joonie it’s a hybrid, they’re hurt badly, we gotta help them.” The smallest says heartbreaking at the sight. He would never understand what people get out of hurting something so unique.

“Her. It’s a female, I can’t tell what hybrid breed she is, her fur is too dirty. Jimin go to the car, get the blanket we leave in there, she’s ice cold.” Namjoon orders and without any protests, the man rushes away to grab it.

“Hey there, stay with me okay? My boyfriend and I are going to help you okay? You’re safe now, I’m Namjoon, what’s your name?” Namjoon says softly, hesitant to touch you in case he hurt you more, he didn’t want to scare you more than you already were. You part your lips and let out a tiny humourless laugh making Namjoon frown.

“T-That’s what t-they all say, g-go ahead f-finish t-their job, e-end it please, make i-it quick.” You choke out, your ribs were most definitely broken. Namjoon felt like he could have thrown up at your words, you sounded so broken, done with life. He immediately shakes his head at you, gently moving some hair out of your face, he wasn’t going to give up on you. He begins to panic as he watches your eyes roll into the back of your head, finally succumbing to the exhaustion and pain, just as Jimin appears again.

“I got it! Here.” He pants handing it to Namjoon who quickly wraps your limp body in it and scoops you up into his arms turning to Jimin and breathing out,

“Drive us home. Now.”

------

“What’s taking them so long? They only went to pick up some files from the office.” Jungkook pouts looking at his watch then back up to the window where had been staring out for a good half an hour already. He was concerned. Namjoon and Jimin were never late home. Ever.

“They’ll be home soon, I’m sure Jungkook-ah, they could have got caught in traffic or they’re driving slow because of the rain?” Seokjin says reassuringly, giving the youngest a soft smile and nodding his head over to the dinner table.

“Come help me set up for dinner?”

Jungkook hesitates but nods, getting up from where he sat and beginning to gather cutlery to place on the table, trying to distract his mind from worrying after two of his boyfriends, looking up when he hears someone coming down the stairs noticing it was Yoongi.

“I’ve rung both of them and I’ve gone straight to voicemail. I might head to the office to see if they’re still ther-'' Yoongi starts but is cut off when the front door is slammed open, revealing a dishevelled Jimin and behind him, a serious-looking Namjoon, cradling a body close to his chest.

“Jin Hyung we need your help, we found her in an alleyway, she’s in pretty bad shape and ice cold.” Jimin breathes out, heart pounding, the entire drive home was stressful, he would have thought you were dead if it weren’t for Namjoon reassuring him that you had a pulse.

“We can’t take her to the hospital, she’ll most likely be taken back to who did this to her. We can’t. I can’t tell what hybrid species she is. Jin help her.” Namjoon pleads. He was a CEO of a hybrid protection company. He refused to let this happen to you again. He fought for your rights, he wasn’t about to let the system fail you.

“O-Okay, oh god she’s so thin, Yoongi go start a bath, not warm, cold, too hot will hurt her, we’ll progressively warm it up so she can get warmth, the bath will help me find where she’s bleeding from, Jungkook, get my first aid kit, quickly, Jimin, get a pair of your clothes ready for her once she’s patched up, she’ll fit best in yours. Taehyung! Get our biggest towel we have, put it in the dryer to warm it up!” Jin orders, everyone moving to do as they were told, Taehyung’s feet pattering from upstairs before rushing down the stairs, towel in hand and gaping at the sight in front of him but not having time to question it as the current three eldest in the house rush up the stairs.

“What…?”

Yoongi quickly fills the bath and feels the water as it begins to fill the bath to make sure it was the right temperature, quickly taking your body from Namjoon, hissing from the ice-cold feeling of your skin and slowly placing you into the bath, jumping as you flinch but make no move to wake up. It was the first sign of life they had seen.

“What the fuck happened to her? What sick bastard does this? She might as well befucking dead.” Yoongi snarls angrily as he gently holds your head up so it doesn't go under the water, gently pouring water over your head to loosen all the grime and blood matted into your hair and fur. It disgusted him that people saw hybrid’s so lowly. Like pets.

“I don’t know what’s happened or who’s done this but hopefully when she wakes up if she's ready she’ll tell us.” Namjoon says keeping out the way as Jin and Yoongi begin to pull the torn and worn clothes off you, being respectful not to let their eyes wander over places they knew they should not see without consent.

“Hopefully...Namjoon, call Hobi, tell him he needs to come home asap, maybe he can help figure out how these were caused before she tells us, we need his knowledge on how to go about this, from a law enforcement perspective.” Jin says, hissing seeing how bad that damage really was now you were being cleaned. He knew it was bad, but he wasn’t expecting it to be this bad.

Namjoon nods before exiting the bathroom and bumping into Jungkook who peers in shyly, grimacing seeing the once clear water, crimson, placing the first aid kit on the counter and staring at your tail in awe,

“Hey Hyung’s look...She’s a leopard.”

Yoongi looks down and lets a small smile appear on his face. You were a feline. Cute. He strokes your hair letting Jin begin to patch you up, murmuring,

“Poor little cub, you must have suffered so much. You’re safe now. No one will hurt you again.”

-----

You groan as you begin to stir awake, you were aching everywhere, were you dead? Everything felt soft and warm below you. Nothing compared to the cold floor of the cage you used to reside in. You were...comfortable?

You peel your eyes open and hiss at the headache you now had, looking around, sitting up in surprise, whimpering at the pain in your body too quickly. You were in fact, not dead. You were in someone’s home, many scents filling your nose now that you were fully aware of your surroundings. They had a gentle and soft scent to them but that didn’t mean you trusted them this soon. Your heart was racing. You couldn’t suffer anymore, you didn’t want to obey another ‘master’ or ‘mistress’. You wanted freedom. This wasn’t happening. Why were you here? What is going on? Whose clothes were these? Who dressed you?

Your head snaps over to the door as it begins to click open and a tall man comes in carefully, eyes widening when he sees you sat up, fully aware of your surroundings. You had been in and out of consciousness for hours. He opens his mouth to speak but flinches slightly as you growl in defence shrinking into yourself, ears pinning back and your tail swaying warningly.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay I’m not going to hurt you kitty, I’ll stay over here ‘kay? I promise you’re safe, no one is going to hurt you. My boyfriends and I have been looking after you, you were pretty hurt love, we’re just helping you, nothing more, I’ve just come to check on you, you’ve been out for a few hours. I’m Taehyung, I’m a hybrid representative lawyer, I swear to you right now, no harm is going to come your way whilst in this house, can I know your name?.” Taehyung says gently, holding his hands up so you could see them, so you knew he meant no harm and he begins to relax seeing your guard slowly come down. No one had ever been so respectful of your personal space or even spoke to you so gently. Your instincts were telling you to leave, having been fucked over multiple times but your gut was telling you to stay, no one had ever been so nice, maybe he was different.

“Y/N…” You whisper softly but Taehyung hears it and smiles at you sweetly.

“That's a pretty name Y/N, you should lay down though, you’re pretty hurt like I said, you need the rest okay? I promise none of us will come near you until you want us too but Jin might have to change your bandages and then he’ll be right back out of your bubble okay? Here I brought some food up in case you woke up, which thankfully you have, is it okay if I come closer to give you this?” He says and you shrink back into yourself, staring at him intensely.

“How do I know if you’ve not drugged it? Why am I getting that? I’m a hybrid. I should be given pellets…” You frown and Taehyung’s heart sinks. He felt ill. Just how much have you been through? To think the food is drugged? To think you’re not allowed human food.

“Here look, I’ll eat a bit and I’ll sit here just to prove to you it’s not drugged. No, no hybrid pellets, they’re inhumane, you’re part human too, human food is just as much yours as it is ours okay?” Taehyung says, making sure you watch him take a mouthful and shows to you that he swallowed it once he chewed on it before, slowly handing it to you, not wanting to make any sudden moves to startle you and sitting down, back against the door just like he had promised, smiling as you hesitantly take your first bite before beginning to wolf it down, the hunger now hitting you like a ton of bricks. Taehyung would make sure to bring you a second plate and a drink once you finished. He watched you carefully and he was already picking up on habits you had, how you kept looking up from your food to make sure he hadn’t gotten closer or how you keep the plate close to you like someone was going to take it off you.

Yeah. This was going to be a long way to recovery. There was a lot to work on. But none of them was going to give up on you.

i have no explanation for this…

my boredom and desire to not do what i’m supposed to be doing know no bounds, so here are some Haikyuu!! team banner headers 

Like/Reblog if you use :)

navigation ♡

by members: namjoon seokjin yoongi hoseok jimin taehyung jungkook maknae line bts

by theme: poly hybrid vampire soulmate college mafia exes yandere (soft) royal abo sports general (doesn’t have a particular theme)

masterlists

A Touch of Humanity - Din Djarin x gn!reader

Part I: Nabu

Part II | Part III

summary: Naboo isn't Din's favorite place in the galaxy. It doesn't even break his top ten. Grogu's ever-curious and troublemaking nature intertwines their lives with that of a local artist. Someone who is able to wrangle Grogu, comfort Din, and care for others without a second thought. Naboo isn't Din's favorite place in the galaxy, but with you around it was quickly becoming that way.

word count: 9.1k

tags/warnings: fluff, the timeline is what I say it is just go with it, Din deserves a #1 Dad mug, Grogu is a menace, 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, mentions of forgetting to eat, descriptions of food, slow burn

Naboo is humid this time of year. It’s muggy, damp, moist, all the worst things to be when it's so damn hot. It’s the type of boiling humidity that Din can feel creep across his skin under his armor. He absolutely hates having to come to Naboo. A planet ripe with swamps, cities full of holier than thou pompous people, and don’t get him started on the Gungans. Din swears he’s not prejudiced, but if one more Gungan tries having a conversation with him he's shooting first and asking questions later. 

Sure, everyone else in the galaxy might see Naboo as this idyllic planet, but Din just can’t. The scenery is beautiful, he won't deny that. Having to chase down a bounty here, however, isn't quite as beautiful. Democracy and civil order are great. Until they interfere with him doing his job because some lowlife seeks asylum in Naboo’s lengthy court systems. Rendering them essentially untouchable unless he wants the entire Republic on his ass. 

The only saving grace of this hellscape of a planet are the mountains. It's quieter up in the Gallo Mountains. The people aren't as nosy or judgemental. They tend to their crops, their children, and their homes while minding their business. Outsiders are welcome, but not doted on. Something Din can respect. Maybe it's the closer connection to their Grizmallti roots, but the people of Dee’ja Peak are much more palatable than those from the cities. Or the Gungans.

Even in this sticky heat, the people of Dee’ja Peak go about their business. The buildings are stout cylinders with round roofs. Public buildings are taller than residential ones. Windmills are scattered throughout the town, generating all the energy they need. Some smaller gardens are used for personal crops, but otherwise there are tiered fields in the mountainous terrain where they grow what is needed for the season. A river flows along the south most border, the water a glittering blue. No doubt if Din were to follow it he would come upon a waterfall over the mountain’s edge. 

He spots what he’s looking for. There’s a corral where the younger children are kept during the workday. A few people are assigned each day to care for them. Din knows there's no place safer on Naboo than Dee’ja Peak. There’s also likely no one as qualified to watch Grogu while Din goes digging for information on a former resident. 

“Stay put,” he orders the child after placing him within the corral. 

Grogu peers up at him, cooing. 

“Go play, I’ll be back soon.”

Grogu observes his surroundings with anxious curiosity. Once he starts to amble off toward the other children, Din stalks off to the Inn. It’s a neutral toned building with a couple floors. The door slides open once it senses him. A middle aged woman sits behind the counter reading a newspaper. She looks up with her eyes only when she hears the door.

“How many nights?” She asks, looking back at her paper. 

“I’m not here for a room,” Din says.

This gets her to fully look up at him. She looks him up and down with a critical gaze. Unlike most other places, the people here never seem too put off or intimidated by his presence. Din honestly appreciates the tonal difference here from the rest of Naboo, the planet. Although every Naboo, the people, has Grizmallti ancestry, the Naboo tend to focus on their newer identity. A side effect of fleeing due to civil war. 

The people in the mountains, though. They don't consider themselves Naboo. They consider themselves Grizmallti herds who live in the mountains of Nabu. Grizmallti herds use the original name given to Naboo, the name of the deity they once worshipped. All things Din has to remember when dealing with the different sides of the planet. Their differences are small, but vital. Not offending anyone or ticking someone off makes Din’s life easier whenever he blows through. Working knowledge of the cultures is just part of the job. 

“What are you here for then?” the woman asks him, jerking her chin up at him.

“I need information on Sola Pellis. I was told to come to you.”

“You were told wrong.”

Din measures the woman. There’s definitely a blaster holstered to the underside of the counter. Her joints are swollen from wear and tear meaning her movements will be slow.

“What are you getting for hiding her? I can double it,” he attempts. 

The woman snorts.

“I’m not hiding anyone. Only people in here are paying me to sleep. I don't have anything for you about Sola.”

“But you know who she is.”

Newspaper abandoned on the countertop, the woman sighs.

“Look, I recognize you. I know why you’re looking for her. If I had any information, I'd give it to you. Sola is no friend of Dee’ja Peak, or Nabu.”

Din can tell she's being honest. A dead end. Great. Perfect. Tracking down Sola Pellis is proving to be a headache. One he isn't sure is worth the credits. 

“Do you know of anyone who may have more information?”

“I know the last time she was seen she was disappearing into the thick woods to the west. If that's true, you can kiss your bounty goodbye,” the woman tells him, going back to her newspaper.

“Why do you say that?”

“Because no one goes into those woods and comes back. The Gungans avoid the core of Nabu because of the sea monsters. The Grizmallti avoid the thick woods for a similar reason,” her words are ominous, but her gaze doesn't leave the article she’s reading. 

Din mutters a thank you and leaves. The cooled air of the Inn does nothing but make the outside even more unbearable. Dirt crunches beneath his boots. Chatter fills the air as the townspeople live their collective lives. When he arrives back at the corral Grogu is nowhere to be seen. Panic seeps in, but instinct takes over. There’s a break in the wood of the corral fence. One just big enough for the adventurous scamp to squeeze through. 

A set of small three-toed footprints lead away from the corral. Din follows them. He can see a couple scuffs where Grogu must have taken a tumble. No doubt he was running to avoid getting caught doing exactly what he wasn't supposed to be doing. The tracks lead to one of the many short cylindrical houses and end at the front door. With a sigh, Din knocks on the door. He’s more irritated with the kid than worried he’s in danger. In all his travels, he’s only ever come to this particular corner of Naboo for information. The seedy underbelly of the galaxy seems to steer clear of here. Like the whole galaxy has an unspoken, but agreed upon respect for Dee’ja Peak. 

You open the door smiling over your shoulder. The smile falters as you take him in curiously. It only takes a second for realization to light up your face.

“You must be here for the little one,” your voice is as kind as your smile.

Din nods. You gesture for him to follow you inside. He does so cautiously. It’s a small space, but undoubtedly cozy. A couple cushy looking seats surround a small table. The kitchen is attached to the far curved wall, containing only the essentials. A stove, a fridge, a counter with three lower cabinets, and a sink. Grogu splashes around in water in the sink. His clothes are folded on the counter. He coos and reaches out when he spots Din approaching.

“You’re giving him a bath,” Din states, just a hint of a question at the end.

“Yeah, he was covered in dirt and jelly. I hope you don't mind,” you say as you grab a dish towel to dry Grogu off.

“Jelly?”

“I think he smelled my jelly cakes and wandered over here. When I came out of the bathroom, he was laying on a plate of crumbs,” you chuckle.

Din turns his head so Grogu knows he’s giving him a disapproving stare. The kid gives him an innocent look in return. 

“I’m sorry. I can pay you for them,” Din says.

You shake your head and wave him off as you wrap Grogu in the towel.

“No worries. He’s very sweet. Are you his father?” You smile as you redress the kid.

“In a way.”

You nod. When Grogu is once again dressed, you scoop him up. He happily coos as you make silly faces at him. Din is itching to get off this planet, but he doesn’t put a stop to it. Not for the first time, Din wonders if he’s doing the kid a disservice. He could tuck Grogu away somewhere here. Where it’s safe. At least, safer than anywhere else. The lonesome ache that ate at him when Grogu was with Luke comes back at the thought. Then the silent reminder that Grogu chose to live this life with him. 

“Thank you for cleaning him up.”

You flash Din a smile that gives the scenery of Naboo a run for its money.

“It's really no problem. Like I said, he’s very sweet. Although, you should probably teach him not to wander into strangers’ homes. I know not everywhere is like here,” you give him a light lecture. 

“I’m trying,” Din sighs. 

Your smile turns sympathetic. With one last little boop of his nose, you hand Grogu off to Din. As you do so, you tell him your name. Din doesn’t return the favor, but you don't ask him to. You’ve seen him pass through before. No one knows his name. When parents are trying to scare their kids straight he’s the Man With The Metal Skin. To everyone else he’s simply the Mandalorian. 

“Who are you looking for this time?” you ask.

Din freezes as he looks at you. Only interest paints your features. His guard goes up.

“Why do you think I’m looking for someone?” he asks.

You quirk an amused smile.

“Believe it or not, not many bounty hunters come through here. Even less Mandalorians. People talk.”

He regards you for a moment longer.

“Sola Pellis. Do you know her?”

You go pale. Regardless of how you decide to answer, Din can tell the truth. You swallow around the lump that’s formed in your throat.

“I think we all know her.”

“Do you know where I might find her?”

An uncomfortable shift on your feet gives you away.

“Not exactly. She told me she was going to Jakku, but then I heard she was seen going into the forest west of here,” you tell him guiltily.

“Which would you believe?” 

Your eyes squeeze shut for a moment. There's a deep intake of breath through your nose then an exhale through your slightly parted lips. Once the calming action is complete, your eyes open again. They fix steadily on Din.

“I want to tell you to believe she went into the forest.”

“But you don't think she did,” he checks for confirmation.

“No, I don’t. My sister is many things, but suicidal isn’t one of them,” you sigh.

“Sister?”

“Estranged, but yes.”

Din chews on this unexpected bit of information. He spares a glance at Grogu. How the hell did the kid manage to kick up a lead like this?

“Do you have any idea where on Jakku she would go?” He knows it's a long shot, but it's also his only shot.

“I don't even know what’s on Jakku other than sand,” you admit sheepishly.

Din gives a short nod. That’s everything. Grogu coos at you some more, clearly infatuated now that he knows you possibly carry jelly cakes. It makes it hard for Din to move. Grogu doesn't even reach toward Peli like this. 

“Thank you,” he says.

Another moment of standing there.

“I’m sorry about your sister.”

The words completely surprise you. He can see it all over your face. Your eyebrows raise, eyes grow larger, and face reddens just a tad. 

“You’re just doing your job, right?” You give a sad smile.

He once again nods. It’s not the first time the job has left him feeling a little torn. The first time was Grogu. With that, he makes his leave for Jakku.

***

It’s a couple weeks later when the Mandalorian is knocking on your door again. Surprise is evident on your face as you greet him.

“Would you watch him?” He asks without any prelude.

You simply blink at him for a moment. Grogu essentially materializes from beneath the Mandalorian’s cape. He had been tucked nicely into a leather bag. 

“Really?”

“If it isn't too much trouble.”

“Y’know there’s the corral in-”

“I left him there last time and he ended up with you. I think he’ll be happier going with you to begin with.”

Grogu’s big eyes watch you hopefully. He coos and reaches out for you. Maker, he’s adorable. With a smile you accept him into your arms.

“Okay, how long will you be?” 

“I won't be back until nightfall.”

Your eyebrows furrow. It’s morning now. That’s a long time to leave his child with someone who’s a perfect stranger. 

“Where are you going?”

“Moenia, but I don’t trust anywhere else to be safe enough. He’s… special.”

The vagueness of the Mandalorian’s words pique your interest, but you put it off for another time. Moenia is a city below the mountains. No wonder he'll be gone all day. You give him a nod as Grogu tangles his hands in your hair.

“Good luck.”

The Mandalorian nods. He gives Grogu one last pat on the head before leaving. As long as you kept him fed and entertained, Grogu was pretty painless to watch over. You learned quickly that any inkling of boredom leads to increasing amounts of mischief. It took a broken plate, a chewed slipper, and a close call with a knife to teach you that lesson.

Night has settled over the Gallo Mountains when Din returns. He seems a little worse for wear. You can tell even through all that beskar armor. His shoulders are a bit slumped and his knock wasn’t as strong. He expects you to hand Grogu off and then to be on his way. 

“He’s asleep and by the looks of it you should be too,” you tell him with an amused smile.

Din follows you into your house. Grogu is out like a light on one of the cushy seats. A too large blanket covers him to his chin. Din waits and watches for a second. A calm rushes over him when he observes Grogu’s chest moving lightly. When his attention is turned back to you he finds a soft smile already facing him.

“Was he any trouble?” Din asks quietly.

“A little, but it was a fun trouble,” you shrug slightly, “He’s a good kid.”

“Thank you for watching him.”

“Anytime. Now, you’re clearly tired and the kid is asleep. You’re welcome to stay the night. I have a cot I can bring out,” you offer kindly.

He has to mull it over. The thought of sleeping in his armor tempts him to go back to the Razor Crest. The exhaustion in his bones and Grogu’s peaceful form pull him to stay. He can stand a night of sleeping in his armor, he decides.

“I would appreciate that.”

***

Morning comes slowly on Naboo. The daylight takes its time creeping over the mountains to warm up Dee’ja Peak. Din awakes with a crick in his neck, but otherwise rested. He sits up and tilts his head left with a satisfying crack. Then he tilts his head right, earning another satisfying crack, alleviating the crick.

“That sounded like it felt good,” your playful voice says from the kitchen. 

Din looks over and sees you at a little table pressed against the wall. Grogu is across from you all but swimming in a bowl of warm oats. It makes him ache a little, how at home Grogu seems to feel here. Din knows what he’s made to do as a Mandalorian. He knows what is expected of him as he raises a foundling. Still, he can't help recalling his own youngling days. He remembers wishing that he could just stay in one place for longer than a few days. He suspects that’s why he’s prone to revisiting familiar landscapes. It gives him a false sense of stability and he hopes it may for Grogu as well. 

“It did,” he admits. 

The deep cool tone of his voice skates across your skin leaving subtle goosebumps. You’re not sure if it's the modulator in his helmet, but his voice is so soothing. 

“Do you want some breakfast?” you gesture to the pot on the stove over a low flame.

“No, that’s alright. We should go when he’s done.”

You nod and go back to what you were doing. He hasn't noticed the paper in front of you until now, or the furious scribbling of your hand. The tip of your tongue sticks out as you focus on the drawing you’ve been working on. 

“Is that… me?” he asks, befuddled and flustered. 

On the paper before you is a drawing. An extremely good drawing. It’s Din on the cot, one hand on his chest and the other on his stomach as he sleeps. The morning light filters through the window, shining off his armor. Over him is Grogu, peering down from where he was once asleep on the seat. The shading is soft and photorealistic. He imagines you’ve been at it for at least an hour. Something deep in his chest stirs, waking something else deep in his belly. 

“Oh- uh- yeah, sorry. I was waiting for you to wake up and… force of habit I guess,” you stutter out, face flushing. 

“You have a habit of drawing people while they’re sleeping?” he questions.

“Well, not exactly, but I have a habit of drawing whenever the inspiration strikes without really thinking,” you rub the back of your neck, embarrassed.

Din allows himself a moment to study the image. It’s like a graphite photograph. You have some real skill with a pencil. Maybe even more than Din has with a blaster. 

“Could I have it?” he asks, an edge of anxiousness nudging in at the end.

You brandish a smile that makes the inside of Din’s flight suit a little hotter. Maker, it’s been too long since he’s taken care of himself. 

“Yeah, of course.”

You put a few finishing touches on the drawing before rolling it up and handing it over. Din almost wishes you could see the soft smile he offers up. 

“You’re very good.”

“Thank you,” you smile bashfully.

“You've been very kind to us. Thank you.”

You nod, still sporting a small smile. A glance between Din and Grogu doesn't go unnoticed.

“You’re both welcome anytime… Could I ask you a question, though?” 

Din can see the apprehensiveness rolling off of you.

“You can ask, but I can’t promise an answer.”

“What happened with my sister?” 

A beat of silence. Well, silence outside of Grogu’s munching.

“I’m still looking. Jakku was another dead end,” he answers honestly.

“What… what are you going to do with her when you find her?” You ask slowly,

You stare him down. A good minute goes by with no words and an intense gaze you can feel from behind that helmet. 

“The bounty doesn't specify dead or alive. It’s up to her how I bring her in.”

You nod, a sigh slipping out. It's no secret that Sola Pellis is the worst the Gizmallti have to offer. The people of Dee’ja Peak usually keep to themselves. They conduct their lives up in the mountains and don't get involved with the affairs of other places. What drove Sola to become a mercenary, you don't know.

 You do know that she mostly took jobs and money from the worst people. Sola has hurt a lot of people, a lot of children. Somewhere along the way whatever moral compass she had deteriorated. It’s no surprise someone put a bounty on her head. If anything, it’s a surprise it took this long. 

“So, where to next?” You ask as you take your bowl and Grogu’s now empty bowl to the sink. 

You place the dirty dishes in the sink, but turn to face Din again. Your lower back presses into the edge of the sink as you lean back.

“Tatooine.”

“Tatooine that’s…,” you pause a moment to think, brows furrowing creating a wrinkle between them before your face brightens, “desert planet with two suns, right?” 

Din nods. He scoops up a gurgling Grogu. There’s something about the hard lines of the Mandalorian contrasting the softness of the kid that ensnares you. He’s so gentle with the tiny ball of trouble. So much gentler than you’d expect someone of his background to be capable of being. In fact, whenever he’s in town the Mandalorian is extremely peaceful. He’s civil. A strange juxtaposition from the stories you’ve heard about the group.

“That’s a kinder description than I would give it,” he says after a moment of consideration.

“What description would you give it?”

“A boiling sarlacc pit.” 

A laugh tumbles off your lips. It's a soft sound that gives Din the same sensation as hearing distant wind chimes. A sort of contemplative calm that allows his chest room to feel the steady beating of his own heart. A brief moment of acknowledging his own humanity.

“Have you been to a lot of places then?” 

Once again, Din nods.

“Have you been to Coruscant?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Do you like any places you’ve visited?” you chuckle.

“I like it here,” it hangs in the air for a moment before he snatches it back with a clarification, “in Dee’ja Peak.”

“I’m glad Nabu caught your affections,” you smile with a hint of pride. 

“Not Naboo,” he shakes his head slightly. 

An amused quirk takes over your smile.

“Don’t let anyone else hear you say it like that.”

“I’m sorry, Nabu.” Din takes care to emphasize the ah sound a little more and shorten the last syllable. 

“No worries, just be careful when you're out there. People tend to get very defensive about the Naboo around here.”

Din nods in understanding. It was a careless slip up on his part. He takes it as a sign that he’s gotten too comfortable here. 

“Thank you, again.”

He takes his leave, you giving a chest height wave after him. 

***

You aren't answering the door a week later. Grogu coos curiously up at Din from his pod. The afternoon air hangs temperate and still.

“I don't know,” Din answers the question in Grogu’s eyes. 

He stalks off into town to ask around. He would have left Grogu with the newly fixed corral, but the kid made it clear he misses you. Whenever he wanted to bother Din about seeing you again, he would place his hand on the drawing. Din has it taped to the back wall of the cockpit on a smooth panel. Every time Grogu puts his little hand on the drawing and coos at Din with wide eyes, he can only respond with a soft soon, kid. 

He spots a shopkeeper who is reorganizing the farming tools they have on display outside. Grogu trails lazily behind him as he goes up to ask if he has any knowledge of your whereabouts. The store is next door, separated by a chunk of dirt road and a windmill. The gruff older man tells Din you’re likely by the riverbank honing your craft. 

Grogu spots you first. His excited gurgling and quickened pace in the pod tip Din off. Din’s gaze follows Grogu’s trajectory to find you. Sure enough, you’re set up on the riverbank sitting on a wooden stool. An easel is in front of you, your steady hand painting the rolling landscape before you with the tip of your tongue sticking out. Next to you sits an open case of paints, brushes, and other tools Din can’t place. When you hear Grogu you look over your shoulder with a bright smile.

“You found my secret spot,” you say teasingly as you place your paint brush onto the lip of the easel. 

You pick Grogu up and place him on your lap. He immediately cuddles into your chest. The part of the riverbank you’re on is only a few yards from the edge of town. The backs of houses cast shadows that reach out for you, but fall a few feet short.

“The hardware store owner told me where to find you.”

“Ah, Gus. He’s a good one. If he notices I haven't come back for lunch he’ll bring me some,” you smile fondly at the memories. 

“Grizmallti take care of their own,” Din recalls a saying he’s heard on occasion around these parts. 

You give him a pleasantly surprised look and nod. 

“How long d’you need me to watch him for?” you ask, looking down at Grogu as you scratch behind his ear. Grogu is absolutely eating up the sensation and the attention.

“Until tomorrow, if that’s okay.”

“I’m happy to. Where are you off to this time?”

“Endor.”

You perk up when he says it. 

“I've always wanted to go to Endor! Have you been there before?” Excitement is written all over your face.

Din finds it endearing, which spooks him. He thanks his Maker that you can’t see it on his face. 

“I have,” he nods.

“Let me guess, you hate it there too,” you tease amused.

You’re sitting there teasing him, Grogu is on your lap looking up at you adoringly, and the warmth of the sun is kissing your skin. Din’s breathing picks up a little, but not enough to alert you to the change. It’s an image he’s allowed himself to think of briefly before falling asleep. Pictures of someone faceless caring for Grogu when he can't. Not having to worry about the kid’s whereabouts and safety. What a comfort it would be to be able to just know Grogu is safe and happy without worry. Maybe that faceless person provides some companionship to Din as well sometimes, but that’s just a happy side effect. The real fantasy is a second more stable, but equally loving parental figure for Grogu.

“No, I don’t mind Endor.”

“Well, now I really want to go there. That’s a raving review from you,” you chuckle.

“Have you ever been off Nabu?” he asks.

“I've never left Dee’ja Peak.” 

“I get the sense people don't leave here often.”

You shake your head.

“Less than people visit, that’s for sure.” 

Grogu gets his hands on the paintbrush. You quickly reach to snatch it, but he manages to get in a swipe with it. A light purple streak paints diagonally across your face. You were using the color for the more distant mountains. Grogu gurgles at you innocently and you take the paintbrush from his hand. A smile is concealed by Din’s helmet.

“Okay, I think that's enough painting for one day,” you announce and place Grogu back in his pod. 

“I’ll be back tomorrow evening at the latest.”

You smile and nod. 

***

Din knows you're home this time. He’s later than he expected. Stars twinkle above and the warm glow of the lights through your windows lie ahead. He knocks and it takes you only a second to call out for him to come in. 

When he enters he finds you and Grogu at the small table in the living room. You’re sitting criss-crossed on the floor. Grogu is kneeling on top of the table, scribbling furiously on a piece of paper with a blue crayon. You color more lightly on yours with a green one. 

“I’m sorry I’m so late,” he says as he approaches. 

“It’s okay, once I got him some crayons he was set. He’s been at it for hours,” you chuckle and gesture to the pile of drawings behind you. 

Din flips through some of the drawings. They’re all a mishmash of multicolored scribbles. Over your shoulder he can see you’ve drawn Grogu drawing. It’s in crayon, but still somehow incredibly accurate. Grogu coos for Din once he’s satisfied with the amount of blue on the paper. Din pops him onto his hip. He immediately finds the small talisman hidden in a pocket of Din’s belt. Din takes it from him, clenching it in his fist. 

“I brought you something from Endor,” he tells you tentatively.

You peer up at him with wide eyes.

“You did?”

He holds out his hand and opens it. In his palm is a small semi-flat talisman of an Ewok with a hood and spear carved from a deep green stone. You take it tenderly, running your fingers over the curves and ridges. It’s cool to the touch and vaguely smells like forest. Din watches you study the talisman in awe. It’s something he spotted in passing and only cost him a few credits. It’s not the same as going there, but it’s a small piece of Endor in the palm of your hand. 

“This is beautiful, thank you so much,” you look up at him with an astonished expression, “You really didn’t have to get me anything.”

“It’s nothing. Consider it a token of appreciation.”

“I feel very appreciated, thank you,” your voice is soft and genuine like your eyes.

There's a brief moment where Din gets an urge to reach out for you. He doesn't know where the impulse comes from. He just knows that the kid likes you, which means you’re good. You’re good and help him out. You give him a place to rest, you give the kid a place to be a kid, and you do it all with a smile on your face. Din probably has the most respect for you out of anyone he knows. 

“Will you be staying the night? I can't imagine taking off in the dark is a good idea,” you offer with a knowing smile.

There's the telltale slump of his shoulders. He’s tired. It’s like your gaze is piercing his beskar.

“If you don't mind.”

“How could I mind after a gift like this?”

In the morning, the crayon drawing of Grogu is already rolled up next to Din. He hadn't even had the chance to ask for it. 

***

 “Grogu,” you scold.

He’s on the counter, a hand literally in the cookie jar. Those big eyes stay on you as his hand continues to inch forward into the jar.

“If you take a cookie out of that jar your father will be hearing about this,” you warn him. 

Grogu gives a displeased gurgle. His ears droop. With one last longing look at the cookies, he removes his hand from the jar. You pick him up off the counter. 

“C'mon, let’s spend some time outside.” 

You bring him out and set him loose in the grass in front of your house. This way he can hunt the snails that have infested your garden. He gets snacks and entertainment, you get a cleared out garden and a second to breathe. The Mandalorian is a day late. You’re seriously beginning to worry, but are trying really hard to not let Grogu catch on. 

Din knows he’s in trouble the moment he sees you outside. Not because he’s late or limping. Because you’re sitting on a big flag rock, smiling affectionately at where Grogu is pouncing on snails. He has the strange sensation of returning somewhere that's waiting to welcome him, of returning home.

 That drop in his stomach, that buzz in his chest tells him he’s in trouble. The kid has softened him so much more than he’d realized. Since when did Din desire a family? Worse, that faceless person caring for Grogu and giving him companionship is beginning to look a lot like you. Worst, he’s silently given up on the pursuit of your sister. You are just the latest way Naboo makes his job more difficult.

“Don’t let him eat too many of those. He won't stop until he throws them up,” Din says as he limps up to you.

You’re whipping around and standing in an instant. Relief washes over you, but worry still covers your face.

“Maker, I was afraid something happened,” you breathe as you look him up and down. 

“Sorry I’m late.”

“Are you okay?” you ask, clocking his limp.

“I’m fine. I just need to sit,” he grunts. 

Suddenly, you’re ducking under his arm, tossing it over your shoulders. You place your own arm around his waist, the beskar so cold it stings. He hisses when the pressure of your hand irritates a sore spot on his side. You loosen your hold.

“Sorry,” you mumble and start to guide him into the house.

Grogu scurries in at your ankles, looking up worriedly at his father. You help him to the nearest seat in the living room. He sighs in relief.

“Are you hurt? Do you need a doctor?” You hover over him, not sure what to do.

He shakes his head slowly.

“I’m fine, I swear. I’m just… bruised.” 

“Is there anything I can do?”

Din studies your features for a second. You're so incredibly kind it’s almost funny. It almost feels fake. He kind of feels like he could reach out right now and you would poof out of existence like a cloud.

“The cot,” he grunts.

You nod and quickly go to retrieve it. Once the coffee table is out of the way, you set it up. Din moves onto it, laying back. Trying to rest in his full get up looks uncomfortable, it always does.

“Let me help you get your armor off,” you say and reach toward his pauldron.

“No,” his hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist.

“Your flight suit and helmet can stay on, but all the external metal… I just think you'd rest easier without it,” you explain softly.

His gloved fingers remain around your wrist for a beat.

“Okay,” he agrees quietly.

You help him unfasten and take off the different bits of beskar. Piece by piece you peel back the Mandalorian’s shell, placing each shiny part gently on an empty seat. You even fold up his cape and hang the satchel that he had around him on the back of a chair. Din sighs once he’s able to fully settle back. It is a lot more comfortable without the armor. His helmet still props his neck at an awkward angle, but that's something he can deal with. It's something he has to deal with. 

“Will you tell me what happened to you, or are you going to just look at me silently from under that helmet like I can’t tell?” you ask, teasing lightly. 

Din is eternally grateful for the cover his helmet provides. His face is on fire and the helmet is swallowing the flames. 

“A Corellian welcome.”

You give him a look that says you aren't satisfied with that answer.

“I don't know what that means and you know it,” you cross your arms.

He does know it. Trying to circumvent the conversation, but appease you is a dirty Mandalorian trick. 

“Corellians say hello with their fists. They say hello harder when you’re after one of their friends,” he elaborates, hand crossing his body to brace his side at the memory of slamming into a table. 

“Remind me to never go there in my many travels.”

“I’ll do my best.”

You chuckle. Tension that you didn't know had gripped your shoulders eases. Sure, part of you was concerned because of Grogu. Both because you didn't want the kid to be an orphan and because you simply aren’t prepared to be a single parent. Watching the kid on your own for a couple days at a time at most? Sure. Permanent and sole responsibility? No. A bigger slice of the concern goes to the Mandalorian himself. 

He’s been by more than a dozen times at this point. Each time you find yourself sinking further and further. You're up to your knees in him. Wading through uncharted waters, unsure you’ll ever reach the dock on the other side. Yet, each minute spent in his presence pushes you forward. His care for Grogu, his stories, the way you can tell he’s growing more comfortable around you when he jokes back. All little glimmers of light beneath the surface below your knees. Glimmers that lead your way.

“Inside my bag, front left pocket,” he tells you.

“What?” you stare at him dubiously.

“There’s something in there. Grab it.”

Without another word you begin searching the soft leather bag. Grogu gurgles up at Din from beside the cot. Din drops a gloved hand over the side, allowing Grogu to take hold of it. The small gesture is what keeps gravity working on him, Din’s sure of it. All the aching, the soreness, eases with the assurance that Grogu is okay. Proof of that is his tiny grip around Din’s thick gloved finger.

“What is this?”

In your hand is a smooth square piece of fabric. The size makes you think of a bandana, but the material is soft. It has an almost liquid quality to it. The colors are beautifully pigmented. A rich blue, a pattern of small white fish dotted all over, and a golden trim. This piece of fabric is likely the nicest thing you’ve ever held in your life.

“It’s for you,” he says it like those three words explain everything.

“I- what?”

“It’s Corellian silk. Pieces that size are good for wrapping around your head. It keeps you cool, absorbs moisture, but stays soft,” he explains.

You can't tell if he’s peering at you through his visor. All you know is your mouth is slightly parted in awe. 

“I can’t possibly accept this.”

You begin to put it back, but he grunts in annoyance.

“Please.”

Your eyes bounce from the Corellian silk to the Mandalorian. It’s truly gorgeous and would do wonders when you’re painting on especially humid days. 

“I just wish I could thank you properly.”

“Just saying thank you is enough.”

You crack a small amused smile.

“I mean that I still don't know your name. Names are important to my people. I didn't want to push you, I know your people value boundaries and privacy.”

The Mandalorian is quiet for so long you begin to worry. He can tell by the way the silk wrinkles in your grip. Right when you open your mouth to apologize for crossing the line, he speaks again.

“Din. My name is Din.” 

A wide relieved smile breaks out on your face. Din is starting to think that of all the stunning landscapes and views Naboo has to offer, your smile is his favorite.

“Thank you, Din. It’s beautiful. I’ve never felt anything like it,” childlike wonder invades your tone, “I’ve never owned something so nice before.” 

He watches you fold the fabric into a triangle then tie it around your head. It covers your head from your hairline back, leaving what’s left of the length of your hair pouring out the back. When your hair is fully out of your face, Din’s breath hitches. 

He gets an unobstructed view of your features, no distractions. The curves of your cheekbones and nose create a smooth mountainous backdrop for the lush valley that is the rest of your features. Every inch of your face makes Din think of the flourishing environment of Naboo. Especially because, like many of the people around here, you have an ageless quality about you. Something that’s shared with the planet itself and its architecture. This moment convinces Din that every good thing Naboo has to offer has accumulated in the mountains, mixed together, and created you.

“You look good. Nice things suit you,” Din comments once all his breath comes back to him. 

You are acutely aware of the heat that climbs up your neck until it reaches the tips of your ears. A small, coy smile appears on your lips. 

“Thank you,” your voice comes out hushed, but you can tell he hears. 

Grogu begins a free solo up Din’s arm. It’s clear it causes Din pain with the way he tenses, but he doesn't do anything to stop the kid. He’s a little bit of a pushover for the pint sized menace, something that warms your heart. You quickly extract Grogu from Din’s arm, but not before he reaches his shoulder. Din relaxes when the weight and pressure of Grogu is lifted. Knowing the kid is now cooing and chirping in your arms provides an extra layer of relief. 

“Let’s let your dad rest, yeah?” You give Grogu raised eyebrows, looking for confirmation. 

Grogu’s ears lower in disappointment. Din really really likes when you call him Grogu’s dad. When you talk to the kid like his life is normal.

“I know we missed him, but we can terrorize him tomorrow,” your voice is honey like. 

The words hit Din in his chest. Almost as hard as that Corellian bartender. 

“You missed me, huh?” A smirk toys at the corners of his lips.

Maker knows this helmet has made it impossible for him to school his expression at this point. There are certainly some tricks you can't teach an old dog. How to not show every single thought on your face is definitely one of them. Not after a lifetime of not having to.

“Don’t get too smug, now. It’s not becoming,” you chide playfully. 

A deep chuckle rumbles through Din’s chest. It lasts a second before turning into a pained hiss.

“Din, you're clearly not okay. Let me get you some ice at least.”

He gives a curt nod. Din watches you go to the kitchen, grab a dish cloth, and start digging in the icebox. You plop some ice in the cloth and tie it all up into a makeshift ice pack. Grogu watches curiously from your hip the entire time.

When you offer the ice to Din, Grogu nuzzles further into you. It almost feels like he’s thanking you for caring for his dad. Din accepts the ice and holds it to the bottom of his rib cage. A moment of deep thought crosses your face as you watch him, unaware that beneath that helmet he’s watching you as well.

“Stop,” he says suddenly.

“Stop what?” you furrow your brows.

“Stop worrying over me. We’ll be gone by morning, you don't have to worry.”

You shake your head.

“No, I’m not worried about you being here. I’m worried about you leaving too soon and making this worse. I can talk to Melda at the Inn about letting you use a bed if the cot-”

“Right, I forgot how you people are.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, Din knows as soon as it's out. You bristle. If you had fur, he’s sure he’d be watching your hackles raise.

“How us people are?” You question.

“I didn't mean anything by it,” he tries to diffuse the situation.

He only adds fuel to the flames. You take his words as dismissive rather than explanatory. 

“There’s no way to say that and not mean anything by it. What exactly are my people like?” you're more forceful this time, demanding an answer from him. 

A real answer, not some vague Mandalorian partial truth.

“Kind.”

The answers causes you to pause. Any building anger halts, any budding snap response disappears, and confusion takes both their places. 

“Kind?”

“Yes, kind. Any other planet and I would have already been at the Inn, or my ship. The Grizmallti are known for treating their visitors like locals. You have a saying about it,” he explains. 

“Give to each child of Nabu as if you are giving to yourself,” you say softly.

“Mandalorians don’t have anything about giving. Mostly just taking. That's why I like it here.”

The thought is so incredibly comforting. Din likes being here because of the nature of you and your people, not despite it. You feel validated. What Din finds solace in is what drove Sola away. You can recall one of the last times you spoke to her. She spat venom when you attempted to reason with her Grizmallti roots. Scolded you for not living for yourself, for following the ways of Dee’ja Peak like a lemming. 

What she never understood is that you are living for yourself. You love your community, your way of life. Sure you’d like to expand your horizons. You'd like to explore the far reaches of the galaxy and see everything there is to see. Still, you always pictured yourself coming right back here when you’re done and continuing caring for those around you when you do so. There is nothing more fulfilling for you than caring about and for others. You have hope that if Din doesn't fully understand that now, he could in the future. 

“Have you ever thought about staying?” The question slips out before you can catch it.

“It’s not what we do.”

“What’s not?”

“Staying in one place.”

You simply nod. The silence gnaws at your ankles uncomfortably. You shift on your legs in an attempt to rid yourself of it. Grogu starts trying to climb up your torso. You chuckle as you let him. He clambers up until he’s holding onto your head and standing on your shoulder. You tilt your head to give him more room and reach up to steady him with your hands. Din watches fondly as the ice does its job.

“Have you ever thought about leaving?” he asks.

Your gaze snaps back over to him. A small, almost sad smile appears.

“All the time,” you admit.

“Why don’t you?” 

“It’s not that simple. Like you said, people don't leave here often.”

You lift Grogu off of your shoulder where he was playing with the silk on your head. The sun has fully set outside. Trilling can be heard through the windows from the bugs. You set Grogu into his pod. He lays back easily, pooped and ready for sleep. 

“That doesn't mean they don't leave at all,” Din points out gently. 

The pod shuts itself as Grogu drifts off. No doubt dreaming about those pesky snails. You finally allow yourself to sit, taking the seat beside where Din lays. 

“I suppose it doesn't,” you sigh.

“Why don't you?” He repeats his question.

You open and close your mouth a couple times with false starts. A frown settles in when you can't find an excuse that satisfies you.

“I don’t know… I’m scared, I guess.”

“Scared of what?”

“I’ve never been further than the river. I know it probably sounds silly to someone who travels for a living, but I’m afraid I won't make it home if I leave,” your voice is pillow soft and contemplative. 

Din takes a steadying inhale through his nose. Then he places a heavy gloved hand on your knee. As his heart pounds in his chest, he gives a comforting squeeze. 

“That’s not silly.”

You swallow the lump that’s suddenly in your throat. This is the first time you find yourself wishing you could see Din’s face. The beskar has always just been a part of him. Now that all of it but his helmet is shedded it fully hits you. There is someone underneath all that armor. Someone with skin that isn't blaster proof. Someone whose body is likely warm rather than icy to the touch. Someone whose face is looking at you, reassuring you, and making an expression you’ll never be able to see. Oh, how you long to see how he looks at you. 

“Thank you, Din.”

You place your hand over his. The material is rough to the touch, but it still comforts you. It’s still Din’s hand bridging a gap that’s never been bridged before. He’s offering a tender touch that you’ve only seen him give to Grogu.

“I’d ensure you make it home,” he states.

All you can do is blink at him for a moment. 

“What are you saying?” you ask it slowly, beating down the rising hope and heartbeat. 

“You can come with us. I’ll keep you safe.”

His voice is certain and unwavering. That hope you were beating down wins, bursting into your chest. The smile that grows on your face is blinding and breathtaking. Din has the terrifying thought that he would do whatever he can to make you continue smiling like that.

“Are you sure I won’t slow you down?”

“I already travel with a child. You’ll be easy.”

You nod enthusiastically. Dank farrik, Din must be absolutely melting in his helmet. There’s no other reason his brain is short circuiting like this.

“I guess this way you don't have to come all the way back to Nabu to bring me gifts,” you tease. 

Another circuit in Din’s brain pops.

“That’s one way of looking at it.”

“Where would we go first?” 

“Mos Eisley first, then wherever the bounty takes us.”

“Mos Eisley?” You ask feeling just a bit stupid.

“Tatooine.”

You nod thinking of what to pack. Tatooine is a desert planet, but you’ll be going to places of all temperatures and weather. At the same time, you don't want to pack too heavy. How are you going to fit all your art supplies into a bag? Will there even be room on his ship?

“My easel and supplies, will there be room? I suppose I can always just stick to sketching and paint when I get back,” you mumble the end to yourself.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make room.”

A small gesture that carries such big implications for how you’ll fit into his life from here on out. Din will no longer be entering your space. You won't be the one adjusting and making room. He will. Din is going to alter everything about his life so you can fit neatly in it. 

“Y’know, that’s the first time you’ve told me not to worry that actually made me stop worrying,” you muse. 

“You worry too much.”

His hand squeezes your knee further. 

“It’s hard not to with you two around,” you tease with a playful smile.

You can't hear it, but you can see the light chuckle move in his chest. 

“You should hit the rack. Big day tomorrow,” Din says softly.

He gives your knee one last squeeze before removing it. Your knee is suddenly cold. Din misses the warmth he was able to barely feel through his glove. He wonders how warm you are without the glove.

“Big day, indeed.”

***

You don't mention saying goodbye to any family the next morning. Din doesn't ask. If your sister is any indication, family is likely a sore topic. You hug various people as you walk to Dee’ja Port. Din recognizes Gus, who sends you away with a basket of bread and a firm order not to forget to eat. Another person you introduce as Luka gives you a bottle of spotchka. Then Melda, the woman Din spoke to at the Inn, shoves over a rolled up blanket. It seems to be made of every hue in a Naboo sunset and woven together with thick soft yarn. He watches your eyes widen.

“Melda, you must need this. I can't take it,” you say and attempt to hand it back.

Melda shakes her head and holds her hand up to stop you.

“We have plenty. I want you to have a piece of home with you when you need it. Nothing more Dee'ja Peak than one of my blankets,” she insists.

You give her an extra tight hug. When you set off again you explain to Din that the blanket is one used on the beds in the Inn. Melda hand makes them. She sells them during festivals and sometimes even takes commissions. They’re expensive, though. They take a lot of work and material. Her giving you one is a heart swelling gesture. 

All in all it takes the two of you twenty-five minutes to make the ten minute walk to Dee’ja Port. Every few buildings someone is stopping you to give you a hug and wish you well. Din and Grogu watch in silent awe at the sheer amount of love you are showered with on your way out. 

Dee’ja Port houses four bays and cheap docking. The Razor Crest is sitting in the furthest bay. He leads you to her, telling you what she’s called. It feels like he’s nervously introducing you to a family member. You give him a warm smile that you then direct to the Crest. You place a gentle hand on the side of her body.

“It’s the best thing I’ve ever seen,” you hum.

Din chuckles, drawing your attention.

“She’s a piece of garbage, but she’s our piece of garbage,” he says.

He helps you to secure your things in the cargo hold. Priority is to take off, then you can figure out where exactly everything will go. It’s strange imagining him existing in this space. While you can see him in the way everything is organized, there’s nothing else that feels like Din. 

From the cargo hold you pass the small living quarters and climb up into the cockpit. You sit to Din’s right, Grogu on your lap. Grogu coos and reaches out to the left. When you follow his little hand you find your drawings on the back wall. The one you drew of Din and Grogu that first morning and the silly little crayon sketch. Your face heats up.

“I didn't think you hung them up,” you comment. 

Din glances at you then over his other shoulder. 

“Oh- the-,” he clears his throat a little, “the kid really likes them.” 

You smile as Din faces forward. Din swears his beskar must be red and gooey with how hot his skin is. 

“Awe, you like my drawings, Grogu?” you coo down at the kid. 

He looks up at you with his ears perked up, gurgling. 

“I’m glad because there’s only going to be more,” you say, eyes darting up to where Din is flipping switches and pressing buttons. 

Grogu coos happily. The Crest roars to life, causing you to jump a bit.

“Sorry,” Din mumbles as he continues readying the ship. 

When the ship starts to move it really sinks in. You’re leaving Dee’ja Peak. You’re leaving Nabu. Din looks at you over his shoulder. You can see your reflection in his visor, wide eyed and anxious.

“Ready?” Din asks.

You take a deep breath.

“As I’ll ever be.”

Din nods and looks forward again. Another few flips and clicks then the ship is off. As you leave your home and everyone you know behind, your eyes stay glued on the beskar-clad man in front of you. You watch him open up an entire galaxy of possibilities to you for no reason other than the desire to do so. The blue of the atmosphere gives way to an endless expanse of stars, but you’re sure the brightest of them all is in this cockpit with you.

Beauty || Katsuki Bakugo x Reader

Beauty and the Beast Chapter 1

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Reader (Although that won’t show up until much much later, so right now? honestly? its just the reader) Summary: Its your first day in school, and you become acquainted with your classmates Warnings: Nothing that I’m aware of?  Word Count: 1,228

Key: n/c - Native Country

A/N: This is,, my first fic that I didn’t use a song outline for.. I hope you guys like it! I’ll update this whenever I release a new chapter! (and again, please dont mind the formatting, I’m still getting used to using tumblr to write ^^;)

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Ch.1 | Ch.2 | Ch.3 | Ch.4 | Ch.5 | Ch.6 | Ch.7 | Ch.8 | Ch.9 | Ch.10

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