#droidwrites

Chapter I: The other Vizsla

“He had a warrior’s death.” You were sitting in the temporary forge, trying not to sob under the helmet. Paz was your big brother, and now, he was gone. The Armorer put a gloved hand in your teal pauldron. “You have done a great job reuniting the clans out there, you may rest for a while.” You nodded and got up from the crate you were sitting on.

“Wait, what about Ragnar, how’s…” You had been far away for years, but in one of your rare holocalls, Paz had spoken to you about the little boy with pride. And now he was all alone without his buir.

“Din Djarin has taken the youngling under his wing,” she declared, grabbing her tongs to start her work again. “You should talk to him, he’s trying to be strong, but he’s just a kid.”

Your jaw dropped under the helmet. Din kriffing Djarin had adopted your niece? Last time you checked, the guy was a laserbrain and a reckless, ruthless bounty hunter. And you were…a very differen person too. You felt how your blood started to boil inside you.

“I’ll do it, thank you, Armorer.” Tightening your fist, you stormed out of the forge, looking for the offending Mandalorian who had adopted Ragnar without checking with you.

After wandering for a while between the camp, you didn’t find a trace of him, so you decided to ask around. Reuniting the clans meant that a lot of Mandalorians from different backgrounds and customs were together under the same roof, so you could always find warriors wrestling here and there. It was chaos, but you liked it. The clans you had brought with you were starting to mix with the other ones and getting into fights: it was the first step towards blending. After asking some of the Mandalorians, a blonde Mandalorian woman, who didn’t cover her face as your clan, revealed to you the location of Djarin. She also warned you about the reserved nature of the man, who didn’t like to be bothered, especially at his own home, but if you wanted something, it was to annoy Din Djarin.

You borrowed a speeder bike and went to look for the little cabin the woman had described. The lava flats were barren but beautiful, and with the protection of your helmet, the dust didn’t get into your lungs, so you enjoyed the ride. It was recognisable even in the distance, the cabin stood on the horizon on the outskirts of Nevarro City. It was kind of cute, and a place you would never have imagined for Din. In the past, he didn’t look like the settling-up type. Maybe he had gotten old?

The first thing you noticed was the two little figures next to a pond. One of them was wearing a teal helmet like yours, shiny and new. You were aware that Ragnar had just sworn the creed when Paz died. It had to be pretty traumatic for the poor kid. Parking the speeder bike at a prudent distance, you approached the cabin, observing that Din was nowhere to be seen. But you forgot about him soon, because something else caught your eye. Ragnar was playing with another creature. You were aware of the foundling Din had adopted, but didn’t know a lot about them. The kid next to Ragnar was green and sported huge ears. Apparently, your niece was telling them something hilarious because their little teeth showed in a giggle. Weird, but kinda cute. You were ready to speak to the children when you felt our breath abandon you.

“Don’t dare to make another step.” A rough baritone voice, a strong forearm pressing your windpipe, and a blaster digging into your lower back. Did he not recognize you? Well, even if he did, he had his motives to aim a blaster at you.

“It’s good to see you too, Din Djarin,” you said just before kicking him on the shin and turning in your heels to disarm the bounty hunter. The surprise factor being on your side, it was easy to have him in his hands in a matter of seconds. After all, your voice was raspier, lower, and you could tell he was startled. 

“Vizsla,” he hissed like a reptile, feeling the venom of his stare through the visor. You stood nonchalantly, towering over him while you twirled his blaster in your hand.

“I may keep this.”

“What are you doing here?” he asked drily, getting on his feet, but without addressing the bantha in the room. You took a second to assess the novelties in his appearance. The shiny armour, the signet. The nerf herder looked even broader. 

“Looking smart, Djarin. Things have been working out for you?” He grabbed his blaster from your gloved hand and put it back in the holster.

“Why are you here?” He repeated, ignoring your question. Okay, straight to the point then.

“I came to speak to Ragnar.” You crossed your arms against your chest plate, trying to look intimidating.

“You’re a stranger to him.” 

“But he is my niece.” 

“That doesn’t give you any right over him,” he deadpanned. The man was as annoying as always. 

“Look, I know you were pissed about me leaving, but I just want to talk to him. He may not know who I am, but we both have lost the same person.” Your voice became a little strangled, and you could tell Did had noticed with how he tilted his head.

“About that…I’m-”

“Save it up, Djarin,” you respond, suddenly defensive before the prospect of being vulnerable in front of him. He changed his weight to the other leg, and you looked away, both uncomfortable. After all, it was the first time you had seen each other after you left the covert, except for that time that’s better left forgotten…Well, things weren’t going to be easy.

“I’ll speak to him,” he surrendered after a deep sigh. “Wait inside.”

You obeyed and walked towards the cabin while he went to the kids. Not wanting to admit it, but you felt nervous. You weren’t a stranger to taking care of kids. While reuniting the clans, you had to deal with a lot of foundlings and younglings running around your ship. Taking a liking to them, little mischievous creatures. 

The interior of the cabin was as barren as the lava flats, and you didn’t expect anything different from Din. However, toys were scattered here and there, and a nice fluffy carpet lay on the floor, giving the place the warmth his owner lacked. How had the covert confided in Din with two kids? You didn’t have a lot more time to think insulting stuff about him, because the hunter appeared at the door with his hand behind Ragnar’s back and the little green thing in the crook of his arm. This close, you noticed that the critter looked like a baby. You waved awkwardly, but Ragnar didn’t reciprocate. To your surprise, the green bean did, and you chuckled to yourself. What a curious kid.

“We’ll give you privacy, let’s go, Grogu,” Din said, and then he left the cabin with the little one, leaving Ragnar alone. So the kid’s name was Grogu.

“Hi, uhm… You don’t know me but…I’m your buir’s brother.” You gave him your name and then sat to look less menacing. “I’m so glad to meet you. Paz spoke a lot about you. He was so proud.” The kid lowered his helmet, and you felt so bad for him. “I just came here to tell you…you’re not alone.”

“I’m not alone. I have Din and Grogu.” Ragnar finally spoke, and it was like you were struck by lightning. You knew he didn’t mean bad, but you were feeling sensitive. And you may or may not have had some expectations about how this was going to be.

“Yeah, of course! I just wanted to tell you that you have more family, and I’ll be sticking around in case you need me.” Ragnar nodded politely, and you approached him with care, then you knelt to be closer to his height. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Ragnar. I loved Paz a great deal and I can tell you did too.” He nodded again, and you could tell he was trying not to cry. You put your hand on his shoulder, and he flinched for a moment before starting to sob. Your heart broke into a thousand pieces, and you wanted to hug him, but you just rubbed your thumb, caressing him.

“Your armour…is just like his,” he managed to say between hiccups. 

“Yeah, because we’re Clan Vizsla and one day you’ll have one identical,” you explained softly, on the verge of tears too. The kid nodded, and after a while, he calmed himself. “Let’s go find Din and Grogu, okay?

You found them not far from the pond. Din was crouching next to Grogu, and it looked like he was teaching his oldest son to balance rocks to make a little tower. 

“You have to choose the flat ones, you see?” The man demonstrated it by grabbing a flat volcanic rock and putting it on top of the construction. “Now it’s your turn.”

“Ah!” Grogu turned around and with his little claw he chose an interesting-shaped rock. Din sighed, and you had to restrain yourself to avoid laughing. The scene was both cute and hilarious. Your brain still couldn’t reconcile that the murderous man you met the last time was the same one you had in front of you. Din then noticed you and straightened from his crouching position.

“I’ll help you,” Ragnar said, and he left your side before locking his visor with you one more time. “Look, if you put this rock here, everything on top will fall…” The teal-helmeted kid explained, demonstrating how physical laws work to the small one.

“Ooooooh!” Grogu cooed, eyes huge with realization. He then picked a more suitable stone, and Ragnar nodded in acknowledgment.

“It looks like they get on well,” you commenced, hands on your hips, while he approached you on the porch.

“Well, you should see them at dinner time…” His voice was that of a tired dad, but there was a spark of affection and pride there that you didn’t miss. Din Djarin loved his kids.

“Haven’t you looked for…help?” 

Din tilted his head but said nothing. It was normal that you wanted to know about your niece, wasn’t it? “They train every day with the other kids…Greef Karga keeps an eye on Grogu if I’m off-planet, he knows how to manage him…and Ragnar stays with the covert.”

You changed your weight and crossed your arms over your chest plate. “I meant help from a riduur, Din.” 

His back straightened, and he locked his visor with yours, looking threatening. Now, this was more like the man you used to know.

“That’s not your business, Vizsla,” he practically hissed, obviously trying not to be heard by the boys.

“It is if you’re out of your depth in this,” you hissed back, adopting a defensive stance. By no means did you have the violent relationship Paz and Din shared, but you were as hot-blooded as your brother and knew Djarin was up for a fight too. He despised you, after all.

“After all, that’s what you want, taking him with you?”

“He should be with his clan.”

“He should be whenever he’s most comfortable! He’s suffered a great loss!” Your voices were becoming louder, and your fists were tight under the gloves. Your body was screaming: fight him. 

“We are Mandalorians, haven’t we all suffered great losses?” Din actually growled at this. He looked as on edge as you.

“Ragnar is not going with an inconstant, unstable, hothead uncle who can’t even take care of himself!” Okay, so maybe he was a bit remorseful about last time. But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you hurt by his venomous words.

“That’s not up to you to decide.” And with that, you turned around and returned to the camp, trying to walk as your insides weren’t churning.

Inconstant, unstable, hothead uncle?

Who can’t even take care of himself?

You stopped in your tracks for a second without turning. Din had used masculine pronouns with you. You tightened your fists.

Did someone tell him? Did he assume it? Or maybe he did know all along?

Confusion mixed up with anger, your armor weighing more than ever, one question drilling your skull.

Why didn’t he say something?

Chapter I: The other Vizsla

Chapter II: Headache

Chapter III: The Reckoning

Chapter IV: Recognition

Chapter V: The Hunt

Chapter VI: Shelter

Chapter VII: No going back

Chapter VIII: Pinned

Chapter II: Headache

Din Djarin had a headache. And it even had a name: Vizsla. 

How does he have the nerve to return?

And on top of that, something in you was different. Not your voice or your body, those had changed too, but your attitude. You were still an asshole, but the way you carried yourself…it was different.

He turned for the hundredth kriffing time in his bed (he still wasn’t used to being able to spread out while sleeping), thinking about your return. Why did you have to be that difficult? Couldn’t you see Ragnar was well-cared for here? He sighed and covered his bare face with his hands. Not wearing the helmet all the time was a privilege of his recently acquired life. He couldn’t deny he was stressed all the time, worried about being a good dad and a good mentor, and now you came with all your sass and planted the doubt in his brain. Is he good enough to raise Ragnar? He barely felt worthy of doing so with Grogu, the special kid he was, but when Ragnar was orphaned after the bravery of his dad ended Paz’s life, Din couldn’t think of a different outcome. 

He owed this to Paz. Grogu and the younger Vizsla had a bond, too. They were at similar points in their training. Din thought this was the correct thing to do. And he thought I’d be easier, too. It wasn’t.

Ragnar’s grief had made some of his memories return. He was just a bit younger than him when he was orphaned. Din thought their shared experience might allow him to help the young one, but words were very difficult for him. So he focused on giving him all the other things he knew how to do. Distracting him with training, studying the galaxy charts, and visiting other planets. Everything a Mandalorian apprentice shall do. He tried to be patient and reassure him when he did well. He was very talented, and the influence of Paz’s temper,  the Vizla's temper, showed too.

After you left the cabin, Ragnar was gloomier than usual. He didn’t want to have dinner (Grogu’s eyes sparkled at the prospect of having an extra serving), and when Din insisted, he left the table and went to hide in the room he shared with his sibling. Little Grogu had looked at Din and lowered his ears with a soft coo.

“I don’t know what to do either, buddy.”

Din put his helmet on and kicked the blanket. In three strides, he was at the door of his sons’ shared room, and he hit the opening button. Inside the dark, Grogu’s little snores coming from his hammock were unmistakable. Din checked him first and tucked the green boy. The other sound in the room was the heartbreaking sobs coming from Ragnar’s cot. 

His foundling was curled on himself, holding the blanket for dear life, and was still wearing his helmet. It was obvious he was trying to mute the sobs, but nothing escaped the sharpened sound processor of Din’s helmet. He slowly sat next to the boy, and with hesitance, put his palm on his narrow back. His little shoulders spasmed with each sob. Din wasn’t sure if words would help in this situation, and his mind was spiraling, feeling helpless. But then it was Ragnar who broke the silence.

“He…he looked the same…as…” His voice was rough from crying so much, and Din’s heart ached for him.

“Yeah, he is very similar, isn’t he?” He tried to sound gentle, his voice less husky than usual to calm the child. He didn’t think that seeing Paz’s sibling would be just like speaking with his ghost.

“The…the armour, is just the same.” 

Din caressed Ragnar’s shoulder, trying to comfort him. “It is.” He hesitates before continuing to speak. “ And you know? He’s as strong as your buir.”

“Really?” Din’s strategy worked, and he had the kid’s attention. “Anyone can be  as strong as him.”

His conviction made Din’s heart so soft: Ragnar was as stubborn and determined as Paz. “His brother is. You know, before he left the covert…They had a 50/50 win rate when they sparred.” He could hear the little gasp sound from his son’s vocoder.

“That’s so cool! How does he fight?” Din got himself more comfortable, lying next to Ragnar, and started telling him stories from your Fighting Corps days and all the crazy stuff you did back then. It was dawn when Ragnar, finally, fell into a comfortable sleep. Din sighed, pulling himself out of bed, trying not to bother the little one.

“Patu?” It was way before his waking-up time, but the tiny green baby was already poking his head out of the hammock.

“Good morning, buddy.” Din put his son out of his hanging bed and embraced him against his chest. There weren’t a lot of moments when Din wasn’t wearing his chest plate, and Grogu seemed to love the sensation of cuddling against his warm body. The Mandalorian found himself smiling, his heart so full of love. Then Grogu, always attentive, looked to Ragnar’s side of the room in a silent question. “He’s feeling better. Let’s let him rest for now, okay?”

“Would you spar with Din?” You were bending to be at his height. Ragnar approached you during a break in his training with the other kids. You had been moving crates around, making yourself useful. Since your arrival, you had been using your ship to deliver supplies that were difficult to come by to the tribes, especially building materials, weapons, and fresh food. 

It was impossible not to smile at how serious the little man was. “Why would I do that?” You answered, amused to know the response.

“He says you’re as strong as ner buir, so I want to know if it’s true.” His response took you by surprise, and it softened you a little. So Din Djarin was talking about you to the kids?

“Now that’s a good motivation.” You feigned to think about it for a moment, but you were so onboard with Ragnar’s plan. “I’ll do it. Tell him I’m challenging him to a duel.”

Ragnar’s narrow shoulders squared, and after nodding, clearly excited, he ran to wherever his dad was. To your misfortune, the ex-bounty hunter was supervising the younglings’ and foundlings’ training, and he was almost immediately on you. You had only managed to move one crate more from the hull of your vessel when he appeared there.

“You’ve told the kid you’ve challenged me to a duel?” His hands were on his hips, and you were already feeling scolded by him.

“Yeah, and? He wanted to watch us fight,” you responded, playing it down. You knew gaslighting him would put him on edge.

“A duel! You know, you could have said we’d only spar.”

“And what will be the fun of that?” His snort told you he was just reaching that point where you wanted him. 

“You haven’t changed a bit! How do you pretend to be Ragnar’s tutor being like this?”

“Easy. If I win, you let me adopt him.”

And just like that, Din was on you like an attack massiff, as you had foreseen. He was so easy to rile up.

“The kid is not something you can bet like this is a sabacc game, are you outta your mind?” You could tell he was resisting so hard the urge to punch you, his visor only a few fingers from yours.

“Are you afraid you can’t beat me, Beroya? Your mocking tone was enough. Din grabbed your wrist and in a fraction of a second, had your face slammed against the crate, effectively pinned against it with both your forearms behind your back.

“You don’t get to disappear like a coward and then return claiming your rights over him,” he hissed against your ear. 

“He deserves a parent who can take care of him.” He pressed you against the crate with more force. Dank Farrik, he was even stronger than when you parted. “And not one who’s still weeping for something that happened so long ago.”

That was it. You had gone too far. Din went completely silent, and you started to feel the guilt growing in your stomach. After all, it had been you the one who left. You noticed he had let your wrists free, so you escaped from the crate. He was as still as a statue.

“The wrong Vizsla died that day on Mandalore.” He turned in his heels and left, followed by his flowing cape. Resting against the crate, you massaged your wrists, and his words started to sink in. Of course, iit was the wrong twin who died. Your brother was a solid, reliable Mandalorian, a father, and a natural leader. Someone to be admired. And what about you? No better than a womp-rat, always running away from responsibilities. You already thought that it was you who should be dead, and not Paz. But the pain of hearing it from Din Djarin was something else. 

Ragnar, he was your opportunity at redemption. To demonstrate to yourself and others that you could be trusted with a big responsibility like taking care of a child. That thought made you sick of yourself. Even adopting him wasn’t selfless, as it should have been, but a means to an end. 

Had Din been a means to an end, too?

No, you knew your love for him had been genuine. He was just so trustworthy, so good. When you heard about him taking a bounty as a foundling, your heart ached, proud of him. He always did what was right. You admired him so much. So why did you want to hurt him that badly?

Confused and wounded, you did what you always had done while you were away and felt like this: look for the next cantina.

“Din Djarin, you know that he’s Ragnar’s closest family. It’s his right to claim custody.” The voice of the Armorer resonated in the room, interrupted by her hammering of a new pauldron to one of the oldest foundlings. His fists tightened, but he kept his cool.

“He’s challenged me to a duel over the boy.” The Armorer looked at him and left her tools on the anvil.

“You must work on your differences. It won’t be good for Ragnar if he sees the most important adults in his life fighting like children.” Her tone was definitive, but how was he going to communicate like an adult with you? Dank Farrik, you were impossible.

“He’s even worse than Paz, how…?

“Start finding him and apologising.” She resumed her work, and Din knew the conversation was over. Nodding in acknowledgement and respect to the Armorer, he abandoned the makeshift forge to look for you. 

“Another one, please!” It didn’t take him long to ask around and find your hideout. After all, not many Mandalorians went to drink until they passed out in the cantina. And it looked like that was your goal, only by looking at the quantity of empty shots next to you. 

“I’m sure Ragnar would love to have an alcoholic buir.” 

Good job, Din, only arriving and already punching him in the face. You were here to reconcile with him, remember?

Noticing him, you straightened a bit in your booth to look somewhat presentable. “I’m sorry I don’t meet your expectations, Djarin.”

Your tone hadn’t been mocking this time. Just sad. Something deep inside him worried, and it made him leave the fight mode.

“You don’t have to meet my expectations. I’m not the resol’nare.” 

You chuckled at his attempt at humour. “You know I don’t keep with that either.”

“As long as I know, you’ve done a great job reuniting the clans.” 

You snorted and looked away, just in time for the waiter to bring your spotchka shot.

“Don’t come here and pity me, Beroya.” Lifting your helmet a bit, you emptied the shot in a heartbeat. 

“I’m no longer that.”

“What?” Shifting a bit in the booth, you tried to hide your interest.

“I have a job now, with the New Republic.” Playing with your shot, you rolled it between your gloved fingers, fidgety.

“Congrats. That’s great for you and the boys. A house, a family… I don’t recognise you.” 

“A lot of things have changed.” His physical language was open, showing you his palms, relaxed. None of that easy-trigger young boy you left here. There was a little moment of silence, only filled by the tinkling of bottles and glasses behind the bar.

“Why haven’t you taken a riduur?” You asked out of nowhere, and his entire form tightened. 

“There…as a beroya…I wasn’t around the covert much.” You didn’t think he would actually respond, so you tilted your head in interest.

“You could have taken an off-worlder,” you deadpanned, feeling your pulse accelerate because of the direction this conversation was taking.

“You know that isn't as easy. They don’t always…Respect the Creed.” Humming in acknowledgment, you started to look at your fingers as they were the most important thing right now. 

Why isn’t he sitting like a normal person? Why has he to stand there, so…menacing, so broad? It isn’t fair.

“Why haven’t you, either?” Din asked. Your question ricocheting hadn’t been a possibility inside your drunken brain. You lifted your teal helmet and froze for a moment. Unfortunately, the spotcha spoke before you could filter it.

“They weren’t you.”

A pregnant silence ensued. You could hear him inhale sharply. That broad rib cage turned even broader. Dank Farrik. You’d started a pile of all the shots you’d emptied and remembered Din showing Grogu how to make rock towers, smiling to yourself.

“You were the one who left,” he responded simply. The bare-boned truth.

“I know. And I’m sorry.” You truly were. You had been sorry every day of the last few years. For your cowardice. Your immaturity. For leaving him.

“I’m sorry too.” He cleared his throat, and you had to be very drunk and hallucinating if you had just heard Din Djarin apologizing. “I didn’t mean what I said. That you had to…die iin his place.” 

Feeling like you didn’t have enough air to breathe, you put your head between your hands. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” You weren’t.

“Let’s get you home.” And he grabbed your wrist, this time not to immobilize you but to get you on his speeder bike. And you let him as if you were a rag doll and not the imposing teal blue Mandalorian everyone knew.

The next day, you were the one with the massive headache.

You couldn't believe they had accepted your proposal. When you arrived at the compound after being absent for several weeks, you weren’t received with open arms exactly. Although you had enough holiday days accumulated to leave for one year, it was last minute when you informed the Observatory about your absence in pursuit of Din’s son. Grogu.

Everything had changed drastically in that “vacation”. You knew with your own eyes the planet you discovered. You fell in love with an incredible man. And you made a decision that will change your life.

Upon your arrival, Grogu and Din went to rest to your little home while you didn’t waste time and went to talk to your supervisor. Dr. Vala was an understanding professional, but everything you were describing talking with your hands was pretty uncredible. Luckily, you had a ton of proof with you, starting with the navigation history from the Razor Crest, to the samples you took there. Dr. Vala went through your reports with her galaxy eyes.

“This is such an unprecedented case,” she finally spoke, crossing her green arms in front of her thorax. “The information you provided us with is invaluable, without a doubt.”

But you could see that she was still doubting.

“Doctor, I’m sure establishing an exploration flotilla can be a game-changer in mapping the Unknown Regions”. You knew you looked starry-eyed, and Dr. Vala was perceptive enough to see through your enthusiasm.  

“So you are proposing that we create a team of pilots that partner with scientists to go further in our investigations.”

“Exactly. The pilots must be skilled in combat and survival aptitudes to confront any inconvenience during the recognition of new planets.” Were you describing Din? Probably. “It’s important that they’re small parties, in order not to get too much attention.”

Dr. Vala hummed, deep in thought. You had told her everything about your adventure with the Mandalorian, well, leaving the steamy bits to yourself.

“If we obtain the funding from Coruscant, I don’t see a reason for not trying your idea,” she finally confessed, and you almost jumped in excitation from your seat. “We scientists tend to leave things in the theoretical realm, but a more experimental approach may be in order.”

Your smile at this poin was wider than the Universe.

“The ships could be equipped with portable telescopes to obtain better data of the deep space.”

“That will depend on the funding my child, if I can get it,” you knew she’d get it, they always listened to her in Coruscant. “First, I need you to assemble a squadron that fills our necessities and we’ll see from there. I’m sure your Mandalorian friend can help find resourceful pilots like himself.” Dr. Vala finished her sentence with a blink. 

Oh, she knew.

But she was rolling with your idea nevertheless. 

“Thank you Doctor,” you said with emotion.

“Keep the good work,” and with that you knew you were dismissed.

With you datapad under your arm, you almost ran from the hangar to your home. You couldn’t wait to tell the news. Opening your door, the first thing you saw was little Grogu greeting you, his arms extended requesting to be picked up.

You giggled, obliging, and embraced him against you.

“Hi baby, how have you been?” The kid caressed your face, something he seemingly loved to do, and scaped your hug running towards the living area. “What are you up to, little man?” You followed him when a delicious smell conquered your nostrils.

“How did it go?” The Mandalorian was stirring a pot of something that smelled heavenly. “Uh I figured out you’d be hungry…” He was looking so big and awkward inside your small kitchen. But somewhat I was like he belonged. So different from the first time he was here.

“Din!” You were so occupied you hadn’t noticed the novelty. A big, beautiful carpet was extended on the floor and Grogu was rolling on it like a loth-cat in grass.

“Do you like it?” He spoke so shyly that it made you want to kiss him tenderly.

“Of course! I love it! How…?” Grogu gabbed your leg, asking you to lay next to him on the new carpet. Whatever you want, little guy.

“A group of jawas were passing by and I remembered I owed you one,” he said like it was the most obvious thing. “Grogu picked it.”

“Thank you then, baby, you were most considerate,” Grogu listened to you and you could tell the smugness in his little face. “Have you considered a career in interior design?”

Din chuckled through his vocoder and joined you on the floor after turning off the stove.

“I’m not sure that’s a subject in Jedi school.” You both laughed and then you sat closer to him.

“You know the probabilities of finding the Jedi across the Unknown Regions are high.” He slowly nodded. He had told you about this. His mission, how he eventually would have to part with the kid. But it wasn’t a moment to worry about those things.

Din wrapped you with one of his strong arms and attracted you to him. You could feel the contrast between the cold of his armour and the warmth of his uncovered parts.

That was Din.

“I suppose it went well then.”

The kid snuggled himself between you, wanting to be part of the embrace too.

“We need to put together a team.” Din’s visor was fixated on your big smile, those round cheeks he loved. Maker, it would be a dream come true if you three could navigate the Universe together. No more bounties, just your beautiful face a warm presence every day. It was almost frightening how much he yearned for that.

A/N: Hi!!! This is the first time I’m writing for this fandom OMG. I have little experience writing fics and I’m not 100% happy about this, but hey I had fun while typing smut at work! Also English is not my mother tongue and I have no Beta only Grammarly, although I edited this thoroughly, so sorry if this is awkward hehehe, I’d love to hear your thoughts about it!

You both probably had exceeded your tolerance limit with the spotchka that the kind people of Sorgan had gifted you on your last visit to the planet. Everything started with an excruciating hunt that had taken a toll on you and your bussiness partner. When the trandoshan male you’d been persecuting for weeks was finally frozen in carbonite, both of you sighed in relief and then your gaze met with his behind the visor. Neither of you were very talkative, your silences sometimes speaking louder than words. In addition, you both where extra grumpy that night because of the tiredness. Limping because of your sore muscles, provoked by hiding lying down on the hard floor for hours, you went directly to the spot where your provisions were. He tilted his head, curious. Normally after a hunt, you run to the shower to clean the grime accumulated from the days on the run.

Mando's questions were rapidly resolved when you triumphantly showed him the blue bottle and two metal mugs you used for everything. You must be a minimalist in a ship like the Razor Crest, which was definitely not designed for habitability. You also showed him the reusable straw you got him so he could drink in front of you on the field without worrying about his Creed. He fixated his helmet on you and finally nodded, so you poured him the spotchka filling the cup to the brim and then did the same for you. Next you let yourself slip down the metal floor with a heavy thump, too exhausted to stand for a minute more. He followed you and soon you found yourselves toasting lazily on the ground and drinking in silence.

“You did great today, mesh’la.” He said after emptying his mug for the first time that evening. You downed your beverage on your lap and looked at him as if he had gone nuts. In your time with him, he’d never praised you for your work. It was just expected that you gave your 100% in your hunts, right? You were after all partners, business partners. Associates. That sometimes fucked, alright. But you both kept things professional. So why did his praise affect the color of your cheeks that much?

“Thanks, Mando.” You muttered after finishing your spotckha too, offering to fill his mug again by raising the bottle towards him. He nodded and his gaze didn’t leave you this time. The truth was that Din was impressed by your performance in this last job. He knew you were a capable bounty hunter, of course, or he wouldn't have asked you to join him in the first place. It was only for one job initially, but you’d been so resourceful and worked so well along with him that he had to request you to join him full-time.

In the field, you always had his back, saving his metal ass more than one time, and your perception and ability to read people’s intentions was incredibly useful. Even though you weren't Mandalorian, he respected you as a warrior as if you were one of them. Not only respect, he felt admiration towards you.

And then it was the other side of your partnership. The one that occurred in the dark, rushed, your flushed skin against the cold beskar and soft sighs fogging his visor. The first time occurred after a near-death experience, the adrenaline ended in you being pressed against the wall in some alley by his beskar-clad body. He discovered you weren’t only outstanding at bounty hunting, but in other disciplines too.

Your intercourses would usually happen after a hunt gone south when both of you were especially frustrated and needed to let some steam off. You had three unspoken rules about them: you never talked while fucking, it was always done in the dark, and you never mentioned it afterwards. And of course, the helmet stayed on. You could never have imagined that you'd break all of the rules the current night.

You both had emptied the second round by the moment Mando spoke again. "I'm glad you accepted to be my business partner." His voice through the modulator caught you off guard, as you were lost in thought at the moment. He wasn't looking at you this time. You wondered if he was already drunk because he was behaving so off-character.

"You only say that because you love my stew." You chuckled nervously while pouring another mug for yourself. He asked his to be filled too and half of the spotchka was already gone. You could feel your palms against the glass sweaty: this opening-up-with-Mando thing was new for you.

"No…Yes, I mean… I do love your stew." It actually was the best he'd tasted and a great change from the ration packs he'd usually consume while on the Razor Crest. Mando played with the metal straw in his drink as if it was filled with your star recipe. "But what I'm saying is…it's nice to have you around." You looked at him quizzically, without a clue about where this conversation was directed or what was he referring to. Like he enjoyed your presence? Impossible. You rarely even spoke and didn’t know a lot about each other. Just enough to know you could trust your partner in the field. Maybe he was referring to sex. You knew he enjoyed it, as you did too. It was hot and somewhat felt forbidden. But anything in his cryptical tone indicated he was talking about sex, and it would be a first between you. Finally you decided he must be speaking about your job, you worked well together for sure.

"I suppose…we make a good team." Your half smile was timid and Mando surprised himself when his heart skipped a beat at your smile, but he was a bit disappointed. That was not what he was referring to. Sometimes he wished to be as talented with words as Greef Karga. He nodded and sipped half of the liquid courage remaining in his mug when he heard you giggling.

"What?" He asked drily. He almost felt hurt, where you laughing at him after dodging his attempt to tell you how he felt? You tried to stop but the alcohol had started to take a toll on your self-control. Especially on your empty stomach.

"You…you look so…so cute with your straw." He now fixated his visor on you, and although you tried to stop your laughter with your hand he only made it worse by looking deadly while sipping his spotchka.

"So you bought it in order to make fun of me?" You couldn't discern if he was joking or not but you started to be too drunk to care. He was marveled by this relaxed version of you, looking careless while sprawled on the floor. Even during sex, you'll keep it together, always looking composed. Was a bit of spotchka the one thing it took for you to get loose? If that was the case, he'd buy supplies for ages on the next planet.

"No dummy, I got it because that time you got dehydrated on Tatooine! You scared the shit out of me." Mando hardly remembered how that hunt ended, since in fact, he ended up fainting because of the lack of liquids due to being glued by the hip to you all the mission. It was certainly embarrassing. But what really made his cheeks flush was the endearing tone you had used to insult him.

"I appreciate how you always take care of me." His voice was softer than usual and the impact it had on you was totally unexpected. You stared at him frozen. Was he dehydrated again? You looked at the bottle of spotchka confused. Sure, it was a bit stronger than usual, but not that much.

"Mando… Are you drunk?" You asked carefully, and then he rotated all his body towards you.

"I want to take care of you, too." His voice came strained while he ignored your question. Your face couldn't be redder and your heartbeat started to go out of control. This couldn’t be happening, right? Where you reading well the room?

"Well, I could really use a massage. You know, my boss had me laying all day in some kriffing hole as if I was his personal sniper and my back is killing me." You said nonchalantly after a long silence, avoiding his face on purpose. He sighed in defeat and lay again in the position he was before, his long legs stretched on the floor.

"Your boss looks like an asshole." You could hear now a smile behind the helmet in his voice that warmed your heart.

"He's a tough bone, but he ends up growing on you." You winked at him and then got up, feeling suddenly how drunk you actually were. You stretched your arms over your head and then your neck and Mando could hear the crack of every one of your bones.

“I’ll give you that massage.” You weren’t expecting that he’d taken it seriously at all. He was no stranger to your body, but this new behavior of his was getting on your nerves. You had already spoken more than in all the month you were on board the Razor Crest. Slowly you nodded.

“Let me shower real quick first.” Without further notice, you locked yourself in the refresher to have the fastest shower in history, leaving The Mandalorian with his thoughts while you replayed your conversation in your head, trying to figure out his intentions.

After refreshing, you looked through your possessions, finally finding the small bottle of scented oil, and then returned to the hull while drying your hair a bit with a towel. The shower hadn't diminished your drunken state at all, and you were feeling feisty now. Thinking about how Mando was going to give you a massage had ignited your desire. And you could work with that. Because even though emotional intimacy wasn’t your forte, you new plenty about the physical one.

Mando was in the same place you had left him, now his back against the wall in a relaxed demeanor. He looked at you and then he was thankful you couldn't see his face. Of course, he had seen you in your undergarments before, but always in a non-sexual way like attending to your wounds or just a glimpse here or there. When you fucked you’d both keep most of your clothes on. He’d never appreciated you in all your glory towering over him like this. He gulped and felt his pants somewhat tighter.

You then sat nimbly in front of him, your back facing his front, and left the oil in your right so he could reach it. You noticed that another quarter of the spotchka bottle was missing.

"Confiscated." Giving him a mischievous glance, you twisted your body to reach the bottle and opened it to have a sip directly from it. Mando still hadn't moved a millimeter. A single drop slid along your throat and suddenly he wished he could lick it so badly. He had noted that your demeanor had changed, no longer nervous but confident in your body and sexuality. And that kriffin made him snap. His large hands snaked around your hip bones, dragging your body closer to his chest in one movement You gasped at the sudden contact, but this was familiar. Rough Mando, pressing you from behind against the nearest surface.

His long, muscular legs were spread around you, and you couldn't but appreciate his width and strength, seduced to caress where the beskar wasn't covering them. The time started to go slower as you stroked his skin through the flight suit. Sometimes it was difficult to remember that under all the metal a living red-blooded man resided. And said man was shivering now under your soft touches, praying that you didn't notice his neediness. He was a warrior with a task.

"Mesh'la, let me take care of you." His voice was gentle and raspy when he spoke next to your ear, and if he hadn't been wearing a helmet, you could have felt his breath tickling your skin. The tone in which he pronounced the foreign word made you feel a lot of things, some of them directed to your lower abdomen. You heard the tap of the oil and goosebumps of anticipation covered your skin. When the first drops slid down your column you were the one shivering this time.

When you felt his hands over your skin, you melted. You hadn't noticed when he’d removed his gloves. He rarely did it, and feeling them on your abused shoulders was like warm honey. You almost moaned from the touch of the rough skin of his big palms, his strong thumbs working on the knots that always formed over your shoulder blades. It felt heavenly.

“Is this okay?” If you didn’t know better, you’d swear his voice sounded a bit shy, but it was always difficult to tell through the modulator.

“S’ perfect Mando.” Your tone was breathy as you started to get a bit much worked up by his touch. He hummed and continued with his ministrations in silence. The moment felt fragile: you’d never had this intimacy together before. You noticed he was taking his time with you, feeling every muscle and curve of your strong back, tracing some scars scattered here and there. The alcohol and the massage were finally relaxing your tensed body, and then a moan you couldn’t stop escaped from your lips. His hands, which were working on your lower back at that moment, stopped and you could feel his entire body tense.

“Is this turning you on mesh’la?” All shyness was gone in a second, now his voice was thick with lust, a timbre you did recognize of him. His hands now had a harder grip on your back, like he needed to hold onto something. Sex with Mando was familiar ground, you felt relieved.

“Why don’t you check yourself?” Spotchka made you cheeky like that and you could hear Mando taking a heavy breath, confirming that your words had the effect you desired. Without warning, he dragged you towards his chest plate, the cold beskar biting your back while he positioned his helmet resting on your shoulder. Your heartbeat started to accelerate with anticipation. In this position, you could feel his chest rising every time: he was as worked up as you.

Painfully slow, he started to go over your outer thighs with a feathery touch with his calloused digits when then abruptly, he grabbed them and separated further making you gasp. The heat between your legs was unbearable and the thing you wanted more was for him to touch you. His grip on your inner thighs was almost painful, not that you minded, but you couldn’t stand more teasing.

“Mando, please…” You begged.

“Please what?” His fingers were now hovering over your clothed core, the fabric drenched in your slick. It wasn’t like your business partner hadn’t fingered you before, but it was always as a preparation for you to take his girth, never in this unrushed, lazy manner. Although you were going to explode from anticipation, you were loving every moment of it.

As Mando was too. The sensation of your plush skin filling his hands, your body pressing against his and dank farrik, your smell. It was driving him crazy, so much that he wanted to remove his helmet so he could appreciate the delicious smell of your wet pussy. His head was starting to spin and he couldn’t identify if it was for your fragrance or the quantity of spotchka running through his blood. He decided that the teasing was over then, and unceremoniously hooked his thumbs on your waistband and slid the piece of underwear down your legs, the soaked spot in the middle so evident it embarrassed you and turning him on even more. But he wasn’t still touching you where you needed him most. You were so done.

With your smaller hand, you grabbed his and placed it in your cunt letting go a snort and leaving Mando stunned.

“You wanted to take care of me? Then go on.” You said sassy, but your face was redder and hotter than a Sith’s lightsaber. He kriffing grunted and your breathing stopped when he finally put one of his thick fingers on your entrance to collect your slick. He amused himself at the fact that you were dripping because of him, feeling between surprised and a little proud about it. Then he started tracing lazy circles around your clit while spreading your pussy with the other hand. Mando relished himself in how soft and warm you were, imagining your flavor between his lips. In the confine of his flight suit, his cock twitched, impossibly harder. But today was about taking care of you and he was a man of his word.

His middle finger started tracing your slit up and down and you can’t help but waggle in his lap, feeling the pleasure spreading through your body. You inhaled hard when you notice the prominent bulge against your ass, growing only wetter at the sensation, and Mando could literally feel how your slick slid down your hole. While still rubbing your clit, he took advantage of the dampness to slide one finger inside, looking at that magic spot in your entrance that made your skin tingle. You moaned louder and he licked his lips under the helmet. An all-consuming desire was growing inside of him, the alcohol inside his veins whispering to him that he should indulge in his fantasy. You moan again in his arms and he’s a mess. Needs to taste you, to smell you to see your pussy drenched because of him. Every part of his body is in contact with yours, his helmet against your cheek. He’d love to bite your shoulder and mark your neck, and his need grows stronger while fantasizing about the idea.

“Mando…another finger…please.” Your voice was labored and so sexy he needs a sharp inhale to bring his brain the oxygen he needed. You were a beautiful mess. Your lips parted, cheeks red with lust and a sheer layer of sweat making your skin glow under the lights. This was nothing like taking you from behind in some cantina bathroom. He was done.

“Wait for a second mesh’la. And don’t turn around.” You nodded obediently, at this point you’d do whatever it took to be touched by The Mandalorian. Then you heard the hiss, you panicked a moment, knowing what the helmet meant for him. But inside you couldn’t deny the excitement from the anticipation about what he was going to do. Soon you had the answer. With a loud clank, he let his helmet rest between your spread thighs and then he breathed heavily, finally inhaling your sweet scent. It seemed odd to you that he didn’t choose another spot for his helmet, but then it hit you like a ton of bricks. Filthy bastard.

“Keep your legs spread for me.” His bossy tone made your pussy clench, you were used to his dry commands but in this context it made you drool. His unmodulated voice was like his hands, rough and gentle and warm at the same time, just like him. You found yourself wanting to hear more of it.

Mando’s hands traveled south once again and then he was spreading your lips, totally messy and wet. “Dank Farrik mesh’la look at you.” And you looked. The helmet, well-polished, silver beskar. His position between your legs wasn’t unintentional. You looked at your cunt at display, his large fingers caressing it like it was the most precious thing in the galaxy. You felt embarrassed and your first reflex was to close your legs. But he wasn’t having it.

“Mando, you’re shameless!” His strong hands didn’t let you close your legs but he spread them further. And when he had you like that, his fingers collected your slick determined to finally taste you. You could hear how he sinfully licked every finger and a more sinful, hoarse moan. You’d never hear him make a sound like that and it turned you to putty.

“Your cunt tastes as delicious as it looks.” Now, that was shameless. Who had imagined the reserved, soft-spoken Mandalorian had such a filthy tongue? His fingers were toying with your clit while he explored your hole with the other hand. Pleasure was filling every cell of your body and tiny moans were scaping more frequently from your lips, more aroused every second you looked at his movements reflected on the beskar surface.

“I’d love to taste you too Mando.” You teased grinding your hips on his cock, provoking a delicious sound from him.

“Another time mesh’la, I’m taking care of you today.” His voice was thick with drunkenness and desire and you couldn’t get enough of it. Then a perfect place stroke made you arch against him, leaving your neck at display for him. That delicious-looking skin was calling for him. A sharp bite startled you, provoking a loud moan from you. Even though he had removed his helmet, you didn’t expect him to use his lips on you. It looked like he was sporting a mustache and facial hair. Somewhat, it fitted the mental image you had of him and you siled internally. He continued sucking and biting all over your shoulders and neck, taking his time in your pulse point and you were a panting mess between his thighs, at this point, your slick even pooling on the floor.

His pace on your pussy was faster now, and you could feel and see how his fingers were knuckles deep in your insides, curved toward that delicious spot you could only reach with toys but he easily achieved to stroke. Dank Farrink, he did know your body. You realized he had to be paying more attention than you thought during your intercourses and that somehow made you hornier.

“Mando, I’m not gonna last much more…” Your voice was small, all your cheekiness from behind gone. You felt raw.

“That beautiful cunt’s gonna cum? Lemme see it mesh’la, give it to me.” Mando slurred as worked up and drunk as you. His words sent electricity directly to your pussy and your walls clenched against his fingers. “Kriff your body is amazing…you’re amazing.” His movements over your clit were now frantic and your vision started to blur. You succumbed to the sensation letting it hit you and then you were cuming all over Mando’s tan fingers with a loud cry of pleasure. He kept touching you until you shivered from overstimulation, dragging his fingers slowly from your puffy entrance. The vision was totally sinful. He started drawing lazy circles around your lips, caressing them. Your breath was still heavy while you came down from your high.

“Mando that was…” You didn’t have words for what had just happened.

“Do you feel better now cyar’ika?” His voice was soft again, even sleepy.

“Yeah, thank you for…taking care of me.” The alcohol and your orgasm were making your body drowsy, and you let yourself sink into his arms.

It had been a long day and you were finally preparing to go to bed. You decided to pamper yourself a bit since you’d been more stressed than usually. So you took a long, hot shower. It was a luxury there in Tatooine, but one of the perks of your workplace were the good job conditions. Nevertheless, last weeks had been hectic and you had to stay at your office longer than normally. You loved your job, but you also appreciated some work-life balance and you weren’t having it at this moment. And your body was taking a toll too.

When the water went cold, you carefully exited the bathtub. Before wrapping yourself in a towel, you examined your body thoroughly and sighed. You had always fallen on the bigger side, and you liked it. Your curves, your softness, they made you feel sexy. But since you started this job, it was clear you hadn-t been taking care of yourself. The long hours at the observatory meant less sleep, less time to exercise and cook homemade, hearty meals. Not only did you feel more tired, but also it was clear that you had gained weight. You observed carefully the new stretch marks, the plush of your breasts and the tummy roll that wasn’t there before. Your new body. It looked kinda cute, but now your clothes didn’t fit anymore and your full bust spilled in every of your outfits. And the other problem was that you compared yourself with the other girls at work. It always escalated until you would start to feel insecure and your confidence weakened.

You sighed again and finally grabbed the towel, wrapping your hair, and then used another one to dry your body. After applying your lotions and skincare, you chose a beautiful nightie and then finally went to bed to resume reading the holobook you had been reading before on your commute to the observatory. It was important to you to have a comfortable nest where you could feel protected from the outer world, so you had invested in the softest duvet to cover you on Tatooine's cold nights. You were perfectly relaxed, even had a scented candle burning to help you decompress, when a blaster shot made you jump from the mattress .

Your first instinct was to drop to the floor and open the drawer on your nightstand where you hid your own gun. Your father had given it to you when he learnt that you would be transferred to the dangerous desertic planet. More shots, men shouting and a lot of metallic sounds. For the Maker’s sake, this compound was meant to be secure, these things didn’t happen to you anymore. It was very hard for you to achieve being in a stage of life where you felt safe. You were feeling afraid, but also angry. These people had broken into your little bubble and ruined your perfect evening.

The shooting continued and with every shot you flinched, but managed to prepare your blaster to defend yourself in case something happened. Maybe you’d have to accept the idea that there wasn’t anything like “safe” on Tatooine’s surface.

You stayed still and quiet for a while until the sounds ceased. Finally you could breathe, your heart still pounding, and dared to move. When you decided that it was quiet enough to stand up, another sound froze your blood. Your front door. There was someone there. You started trembling. You could call security. The residential complex where most of the observatory workers lived had its own since Tatooine’s law enforcement was…well, non-existent. But after a shooting like this, they’d surely have their hands full. Kriff, what if they had been killed? A shiver ran through your spine. There was a stranger at your door. Maybe they were hurt, or worse. You hadn't heard more noises. But the loud clank against the metal surface had been clear enough.

The decision to not be reckless won, and you called security from your holocom. But as you had expected, no one was responding. A low grunt came from the front door. You inhaled sharply.. They were in pain. What if they were some of your coworkers even?

You convinced yourself to bite the bullet and be brave about it. After the rebellion, you decided to not get involved in more conflicts. You had had enough for a lifetime. But there you were again. Laying against the wall in your nightie with your blaster against your chest.

“Hello?” No response. “Someone there?” Anything.

It felt a bit ridiculous to ask politely to a potential attacker. After stewing over for a while, you were determined to check yourself if there was actually someone at your doorstep. Inhaling sharply, you counted to three for yourself and opened the door at the same time you aimed your blaster with determination.

Another clank.

What the kriff.

You slowly lowered your blaster. There, laying on a puddle of his own blood, there was a huge man covered in armor.

“Hey, are you okay?” What a stupid question, of course he’s not. You started to get nervous. There was a lot of blood there. The stranger then said something but his voice was so weak you couldn’t hear him. Never stopping aiming your blaster towards him, you crouched next to his helmet. He repeated his words.

“My…kid…” Maker, there was a child in the shooting? You looked around yourself frantically, but in the dim light only your own lawn was visible.

“Where is he?”

“They…have taken him…” Something in his strained, modulated voice, broke your heart. You’d always had a soft spot about children.

“We’ll find your son. But you are bleeding out and no one is dying today at my doorstep.” You observed his frame and decided that the best was to drag him inside from his underarms. “I’m gonna get you inside, ok?”

He just hummed groggily and you decided to take that as a yes.

You had spoken too soon about dragging him. He was kriffing heavy and you had to use all your willpower to get him in your house. After one of the greatest physical efforts of your life, you finally laid him on your carpet and then sprinted to the bathroom to bring the med kit. Kneeling next to him, you tried to localize his wounds, but with the dark flight suit, it was almost impossible to know if he was bleeding somewhere. Your hands started shaking over the idea that maybe he was actually going to die on your floor. You grabbed your commlink to call the med center, starting to panic.

“I’m calling the med droid, I can’t help you.” You said to the unconscious man, worry drawing a line between your brows.

“No…droids.” You jumped when his gloved hand grabbed your wrist with surprising strength, but the next moment he was dropping it and looking gone for good. Okay, you weren’t the one to contradict the unknown warrior. Trying a different approach, you decided to guess where his injuries were by touch. Some drenched patches between his armor informed you where his major injuries were, so you cut his flight suit there. No time for undressing him.

The wounds looked like knife stabs after you cleaned them. You pressed both the one in his tight and another under his chest plate, to stop the bleeding and then applied bacta spray. But it wasn’t enough. He was growing colder every second and his heart rate was slowing. He was going to die, you realized.

You looked around you desperately trying to think when an idea came to mind. First, you started your stove as fast as lightning and then you chose your largest knife from the drawer. While anxiously looking at him, you put the knife on the flames and then ran to his side again.

“Sorry, this will probably hurt…” And before the knife became cold, you pressed the flat surface of the tool directly against his skin. The smell wasn’t beautiful and neither were his groans of pain, but at least it looked like he wasn’t waking up. You checked the wound and finally it had stopped bleeding. You cleaned the knife and repeated the process in the other stab. After several times, the tissue looked closed enough and only then you started to disinfect the burnt areas with care. They’ll leave nasty scars, but at least when you put your ear next to the helmet, it looked like he was breathing although shallowly.

It was almost dawn when you decided he was out of danger. Exhausted, you finally were able to remove his armor in order to drag him somewhere more comfortable and dress his wounds. It was hard to find the hidden mechanism, but once you got it you were fast. First you removed his heavy chest plate. Probably he’d breathe better without it, Then you put aside the pauldrons and the vambraces, and finally his side and back plates and ended with his legs.

Removing the sticky flight suit and his undershirt was an ordeal, but when the first of the two suns started to appear in the horizon, you had achieved the first part of your mission and his chest wound was fully dressed. While you were bandaging him you hadn’t noticed, but now under the orange light and having finished your task, you could admire the man you had saved. And maker, what a beautiful creature. His torso was strong while lean. You felt bad for the big scar the burn you would leave on his golden skin.

You resumed with his pants and you tried so hard not to look but you were just human and well, wasn’t he gifted there too. Tending to his thigh wounds you had noticed how thick his legs were, but now just down to his undergarments, you noticed the warrior’s actual strength.

You scolded yourself for lusting over the man who almost died in your carpet and was, probably, a criminal. And also a dad. When every wound was tended, you moved to his helmet. Since it had some kind of seal, you hadn’t lost precious time removing it when you couldn’t find the release button the first try. You trashed around the garment until you found said button, hearing a hiss, and put your hands around the helmet to carefully remove it.

The next thing you know is that you’re laying on your back, the warrior on you while he’s pinning your wrists effectively against the bloody carpet, his thick thighs keeping yours in place. You blinked, incredulously. Wasn’t this man on the verge of death? What the kriff?

“What do you think you’re doing?” His raspy, low baritone made you shiver. You should be scared, but your self-preservation instincts had abandoned you. IOn the surface of the T shaped visor, you could see your reflection. Rosy cheeks and doe eyes for the man that was threatening your life.

“Saving your metal ass.” You sassed, lifting your chin proudly. It looked like he wasn’t fully aware of himself since it took him half a minute to process the situation. He then started to release you slowly, but stil tense in mistrust. The skin where he had been grabbing you now felt cold. You looked at each other for what it felt like an eternity.

“M’ sorry.” He finally apologized sitting on his heels, noticing his bandages for the first time. Then he observed you, now on your elbows, your nightie ruined with his blood and purple eye bags under your beautiful eyes. “Did you do this?”

“The stabbing, no. The healing, yes.” You responded while looking for a comfier position on the floor, still on guard but curiosos about him.

“Thank you.” He said after a long silence. You finally released your breath.

“It's sloppy work, I’m afraid it will scar over ugly. Sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter. Thank you.” He repeated. He now looked disoriented , like a lost child. A 180 cm child. Oh wait.

“You…your child, you said someone took him.” He inhaled sharply and his tan shoulders tensed, your words hitting him like a thousand bricks. Then he tried to stand up but almost fell. You stood up fast enough to hold him before he could hurt himself. “Wait, you lost a lot of blood there.”

“I need to find him.” His voice was strained, like he was about to cry. You put his arm around your shoulders and he let you. It was like all the fight energy from before evaporated the moment you named the kid. The warrior’s skin felt warmer now, thanks to the Maker. You only hoped it didn’t become too warm due to infection. He was still heavy without his armor, and although he was making an effort, helping him lay on the sofa wasn’t easy.

“Look, you lost a ton of blood and have poor cauterized wounds from a random girl. You can’t find anyone in this condition.” You tried to not sound too harsh but the truth was there. “Don’t you have anyone you can call?”

He sat looking so defeated it broke your heart, but he finally nodded.

“That’s great, contact them then while I prepare some breakfast. You should hydrate and eat something.” He fixed his visor on you while you went to your room to change into something that wasn’t bloody and sheer to start with. When you returned, he was apparently speaking with a man. You gave him privacy while preparing some scrambled eggs, broth and fresh fruit, considering if you should call in sick to your job.

“They left you for dead, you have that advantage. They won’t expect you when you strike back .” Said the man in the holo. He was middle-aged and looked elegant. He then he spoke again in a kinder voice. “But you should focus on resting and healing now, Mando. Let us take care of it.”

“Thank you Karga, really.”

“Anything for the little one.” And then he hung up. The warrior put his head between his thighs, looking like the most miserable creature in the world. Your chest ached at the sight.

“Here, have some broth, you should hydrate. And probably have a transfusion too.” You half joked, sitting with the tray next to him. Mando, as you heard the bearded man call him, looked at you as if you were a ghost. You handled the tray to him carefully but he didn’t move at all. The longest and most uncomfortable silence went on until you decided to stand up and went to prepare for work.

“If you need to use the refresher, we have warm water here, not just that sonic excuse of a shower.” You started while sipping from your mug trying to look nonchalant. “I need to head to the observatory now, but you can stay as long as you need. That was such a beating you took.” You looked at the bruises that were forming across the golden skin you were desperately trying not to observe all the time. Both of the suns were up now, and they illuminated his frame beautifully. And the mess of dried blood in your floor and carpet, too.

You sighed. “Ok, I need to leave now, if you need anything…” You scribbled your commlink frequency in a holopad. It was strange how this looked as parting with a one night stand you won’t be seeing again. You had a certainty he wouldn't be there when you returned either.

“Thank you.” He finally acknowledged the tray and then nodded in your direction. Confused, injured and desolate, you felt guilty for leaving him there. But today was important since the planet you had been studying was the closest to Tatooine…You couldn’t miss the opportunity even though it felt so wrong.

“Take care, Mando.” You said before disappearing through the main door in a hurry.