#axe woves fic

[flightlessangelwings]

Lady and the Merc

Axe Woves x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

Word count- 4.6k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ only!), mutual pining, feelings, cheeky Axe, tension, flirting, fluff, takes place in the Gins for Hire episode Notes- I know a max of like 10 people will care about this fic but Axe gets no love on here and I've been thinking about him ever since he came back in the new season! He’s just so fine omg so I couldn’t help but write this!!! Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates​ is my update blog to stay up to date on when I post! Feel free to follow that too and turn on post notifs!

~

It created a great commotion when the Mandalorians showed up on your planet. Amidst the glam and the colors that illuminated your planet, the mercenaries stood out, and many gawked as the leader and his two top trusted companions entered the palace. You stood at the Duchess’ side, her right hand as you had been your entire life, while she explained the need for protection on your planet.

“And acting as liaison between our peoples,” she gestured to you as she introduced you by name, “She will make sure you have everything you need and keep communication between our people open.”

You stepped forward as your nerves flared; the leader was even more handsome up close. “I look forward to working with you,” you extended your hand for a shake, “And I personally want to thank you all for coming to our aid and keeping our people safe.”

“The pleasure,” the leader took your hand, but instead of shaking it, he brought it up to his lips and kissed the back of it tenderly, “Is all mine,” he gave you a wink as you felt your skin burn under his touch, “And call me Axe Woves.” Behind him, the other two equally beautiful Mandalorians rolled their eyes at his antics.

“Axe Woves,” you breathed his name as you fought to keep your composure under his gaze.

Axe smirked, “It sounds beautiful on your lips, my lady.”

“You can just call me by my name,” you repeated it back to him as your nerves felt like they set your body ablaze. And it only got worse when he echoed your name back with a small bow.

This was going to be harder than you anticipated.

*

The Mandalorians settled quickly on the outskirts of the city. They made themselves comfortable in the lush grass as they set up camp in the sunshine and fresh air. You made several trips outside the city to bring them provisions and make sure they were comfortable, and every single time you encountered Axe Woves, you left feeling flustered. You hid it well, though, and you never let it show just how much his charming smile made you weak in the knees. Somehow, however, you had the feeling he was aware of the effect he had on you.

A few weeks passed, and things were luckily quiet. When you came out for your visit, you found Axe leading a training practice. Instead of disturbing him, you decided to sit down on a crate and watch quietly. His voice was fierce as he commanded his people, but it was never harsh. You could tell he knew what he was doing, and that he cared about the safety and wellbeing of the other Mandalorians. And while you barely knew him, you had the feeling that Axe Woves was an honorable man. 

And then he made eye contact with you.

“That’s enough for today,” he said to the others who quickly dispersed to rest while he strutted over to you, “Enjoy the show today, my lady?” Axe took your hand and gave the back of it a light kiss: his way of greeting you every time.

You swallowed hard before you answered, “I’d heard stories of Mandlorians, but it’s an honor to see the legends in person.”

“You are too kind, my lady,” Axe replied with a charming smile. But, you thought you caught him falter just for the briefest of moments. Was he secretly just as flustered as you were?

Breaking past the nerves, you asked a question that was on your mind for some time, “Would you teach me a few things?” you took a breath as Axe’s eyes went wide for a moment, “I’d like to know how to defend myself if the time ever came.”

Axe smiled brightly at you, “I would be honored to teach you, my lady.”

*

“Block. Block. Perry. Good!”

Sweat lined your brow as you kept up with Axe’s instructions as best you could. He started you off easy, and you could tell how much he held back so as to not hurt you. But, you picked up his tips and tricks quickly and his lessons quickly escalated. 

“Find your opponent's weakness,” his smooth voice went right to your core as the adrenaline rushed through your system, “Stay sharp.”

“Got it,” you huffed as you prepared yourself for another round.

Axe came at you again with a grunt. He swung at you as gently as he could as you raised your arms and used them as a shield to block his attack. You blocked three hits before you swung back, catching him on the shoulder.

“Ouch!” you exclaimed as you rubbed your hand.

“Beskar, darling,” Axe smirked, “Toughest in the galaxy.”

You ran your eyes up and down his figure before you met his eyes again. And the satisfied grin on his face told you that he knew exactly what you were thinking. But, before you could say anything, Axe lunged at you with more force and pinned you back against the wall.

All the breath was forced out of your lungs as your back slammed against the cold wall while Axe pinned himself against you. You were trapped, but the nerves that pulsed through your veins weren’t from fear. He had never been this close to you before, and your breath trembled as you felt his exhale on your skin.

Your eyes went wide as you found yourself helpless against his strong body. And before you could stop yourself, a soft whimper escaped your lips as his leg brushed against your core. But, it wasn’t until Axe’s gaze gleaned down to your lips for a brief moment that your world really felt like it was spinning. 

“Have I found your weakness, Axe Woves?” you asked breathlessly.

Axe’s grip on you softened as he breathed your name. His hand gently cradled your face as he slowly leaned in closer to you. But, just as he showed the brief moment of vulnerability, you turned the tables on him. You swung your leg around his and kicked the back of his knee, causing Axe to collapse.

In a flash, you pushed him down onto the ground and straddled his waist, “Got you,” you sounded so pleased with yourself.

“Well done, darling,” Axe grunted softly after getting the air knocked out of him, “You’re a quick learner.”

“I have a good teacher,” you replied with a wink of your own.

Axe couldn’t help the way his face lit up. But, as much as he liked the view of you on top of him, he wouldn’t admit defeat. Just as quickly as you moved, he grabbed you and flipped your bodies over so that he laid on top of you and had you pinned on the floor.

You yelped as your world flipped and you found yourself on your back with the Mandalorian on top of you. Heat rushed through your skin as he shifted his weight overtop of you and before you knew it, a soft moan escaped your lips.

“You look absolutely beautiful like this,” Axe murmured as he leaned forward, his lips hovering just over yours, “What do you think my weakness is?” he asked softly.

Caught up in a whirlwind, it took you a moment to reply, “A person who bats their eyes at you.”

He let out a heavy breath, “Not just any person…” 

“Axe…”

But, before anything could progress further, the sound of someone clearing their throat called both your attention.

“Koska,” Axe exclaimed as he pushed himself off of you, “I was just showing the lady a little self defense,” he explained as he extended a hand out for you, “And she did exceptionally,” he faced you with a wink as you took his hand. 

A soft smile lit up her face as she let out a short laugh, “Whatever you say,” Koska waved her hand, “You’re needed outside when you’re done,” she added before she left and gave you privacy again.

Axe looked disappointed as he helped you to your feet, “Duty calls, my lady,” he kissed the back of your hand, “Until next time then?”

You were left breathless, and you knew it wasn’t just from the sparring, “I look forward to it, Axe Woves.”

“As do I.”

*

“My lady,” the droid called from the doorway to your suite, “Axe Woves is here to see you.”

“Thank you, let him in,” you replied from the shadows deep into your suite.

The droid retreated and Axe walked past him, closing the door behind him. It was late into the evening, and the moonlight illuminated your room beautifully. But, he couldn’t quite see you from the entryway.

“You wanted to see me, my lady?” Axe asked as he stepped further into the room to look for you, “Is everything alright?” concern laced his voice as he found himself worried that something happened to you. 

“Everything’s fine, Axe,” you replied as you emerged from the shadows in the back of your suite, “I just wanted to see you,” your tone dropped as you crossed the room and came into full view. You were full of nerves, but you did your best to hide it and keep the air of confidence. 

Axe’s eyes went wide and his breath hitch in his throat as he took in the sight of you. “Well,” he exhaled, “What have we here?” his tone dropped as well as he closed the gap between you. He set his helmet down on a nearby table to free his hands. 

You were dressed in a silvery blue robe. Only in a silvery blue robe. A very sheer robe that Axe could see your entire figure in the moonlight. And it didn’t escape his notice that your robe matched his armor almost perfectly. 

“It’s just like you said,” you batted your eyes, “I wanted to see you,” your voice was hushed. 

“You look lovely,” he groaned softly as he rested his hands on your hips.

Your skin felt like it was on fire under his gaze. Maker, he was so handsome in the moonlight. Even as your hands trembled, you reached for his shoulders and slowly pulled him closer. “Axe…” you breathed as you pressed your chest against his beskar. The cool of the metal contrasted the warmth of your skin and goosebumps erupted all over you. 

A short laugh escaped his lips as his eyes ran up and down your figure, checking you out in a very unsubtle way, “I believe you are trying to seduce me, my lady,” his grip on your hips tightened before he ran his hands up and down your sides. 

You glanced at his lips before you looked back into his eyes, “I am,” your voice was just a whisper, “I know,” you paused as the facade slipped for a moment, “I know I’m not the first, but…”

“What makes you say that?” he cut you off with a sly smirk. Axe let go of you only for a moment so he could remove his gloves. And when he grabbed you by the chin, both of you felt that jolt of electricity as skin touched skin for the first time. 

You knew he knew what was on your mind, and you knew he just wanted to hear you say it. But, when Axe Woves looked at you like that, you were weak, “Because,” you paused, drawing it out for a few moments to tease him right back, “You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever met,” you let out a shaky breath when he laughed softly, “ And I don’t care about anyone else… I want you tonight.”

Axe’s response came when he crashed his lips against yours. He swallowed the moan you let out as he dove his tongue past your lips, immediately deepening the kiss. You surrendered to him as you clung to his broad shoulders and let him guide you back so that you found yourself pinned against the wall. 

“Then you’ll have me,” he groaned softly against your lips, “My lady,” Axe’s voice dropped before he kissed you again. This time, his hands roamed all over your body, caressing every dip and curve as if he was trying to memorize you from touch alone. And the taste of you was already seared into his memory, and Axe found himself already addicted to you, “You taste so good, my lady.”

“Axe…”

“I’ve got you,” he groaned as he bucked his hips against your body. 

Slowly, Axe hooked his fingers on the edge of your robe. But, he paused and looked you in the eye before he moved any further. You breathed heavily, your chest rising and falling with each inhale and exhale. But, you knew what he was asking even without the words needed. You knew he still just waited for your permission before going any further. 

“Please,” you breathed, “I want you to.”

With a soft groan, Axe obliged and tugged gently at your robe until it opened, baring the skin of your chest to him. He let out a low growl as his eyes ran down to your chest, “Actually,” his voice was low as his eyes blew black with desire, “You look even more lovely like this.” 

You gasped as he cupped your breast and his thumb flicked your nipple. Your eyes fluttered shut as you slammed your head against the wall and arched your back into his hand. Axe groaned as he shifted his leg so that his thigh rubbed against your pussy and at the same time he grabbed your other breast with his free hand.

Maker, you looked so beautiful like this, moaning and sighing under his touch. Axe knew he was smitten with you from the moment he saw you. But to see you like this, writhing with pleasure under his touch, Axe knew it would be hard for him to leave you. 

“That’s a good girl,” he groaned as one of his hands trailed down the front of your body, “You feel so good already, my lady,” Axe hissed as he felt the warmth of your pussy under his palm.

The moan you let out echoed in the room as Axe pushed a finger inside you. Waves of pleasure ripped through your body just from his one finger as he crooked it inside you and instantly hit that sweet spot that drove you wild. “Fuck… Axe…” you cried out as you clung to him.

He growled your name as he slowly added a second finger inside you. For once, he had no words, and was lost in the beauty of you lost in pleasure. Your warmth engulfed him as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, his palm rubbing at your clit every time he fully buried them inside you. 

Your hands ran up Axe’s shoulders and buried in his hair. Every time his fingers reached your sweet spot, you gave his hair a soft tug, making him hiss in pleasure. His cock strained between your bodies as you rocked your hips in time with the thrusts of his hand.

“Cum for me, darling,” Axe groaned as he rested his forehead against yours, “Let me see how beautiful you look when you lose control.”

“Axe…” was all you could whimper before your climax hit. You blinked your eyes open for just a moment before your entire body trembled and you came apart under his expert touch. Your scream threatened to alert the droids outside before Axe covered your mouth with his own.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmured against your lips, “And as much as I want to hear those pretty screams… I don’t want any company right now,” Axe pulled you against him as he slowly pulled his fingers out of you, “I want you all to myself,” his growled before he kissed you again.

All you could do was moan as you surrendered yourself to Axe Woves. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders as you pushed yourself off the wall and turned your bodies around, “The bed is this way,” you whispered between kisses.

“I’m at your service, my lady,” Axe grinned against you as he let you take the lead.

The two of you barely separated as you led him deeper into your suite where the bed lay. Your robe flowed around you, framing your nude figure in the moonlight beautifully. Axe wanted to keep his eyes open, to memorize every inch of you, to not miss a moment of your beauty, but he also couldn’t help but close his eyes and just enjoy the feeling of you against him.

He barely even noticed when you reached your bed until you pushed him down onto his back. You quickly climbed on top of him, straddled his waist in nothing but your bare skin and the robe that only clung to your shoulders, outlining your body. 

“Got you,” you beamed at him with satisfaction. 

Axe let out a soft laugh as he caressed your hips, “It appears you do, my darling.” 

Your heart skipped a beat as he looked up at you. Axe looked so handsome against your silky sheets illuminated by the moonlight. Even through his armor, you could see the way his chest rose and fell with his heavy breaths. And underneath your bare cunt, you felt how hard he was; you let out a soft moan as you rocked yourself against him and you savored the hiss he let out as his back arched up towards you.

Axe whispered your name as you lifted yourself up and fumbled with his pants, desperate to free his cock. You paused and met his gaze, and when you did the universe seemed to freeze for a moment. Lost in the other's eyes, you both somehow knew that this was more than just a one night need for release. This was more than just flirting and teasing. There was more behind your eyes, behind your words, behind your actions.

But the need was too great to dwell on it right now. The moment you freed Axe’s cock, you let out a heavy breath as you stroked it a few times.

“Impressed, my lady?” Axe asked with a cocky smirk.

You mirrored his smile, “About as impressed as you are, I believe.”

“Touche,” he laughed for a moment before he gasped.

You lined yourself up with the tip of his cock and slowly started to sink down on it. Both of you moaned loudly as you took Axe inside you inch by inch. The stretch was more than you anticipated, but having cum once helped get you ready to take him. And the way Axe held you and looked up at you with pure adoration made your heart pound in your chest. 

“Fuck…” you huffed as your hips met Axe’s and you leaned forward, resting your hands on his chest. 

Axe took the moment to wrap his arms around you and pull you in for another heated kiss. He groaned against you when he felt you squeeze his cock. Between the feeling of your wet cunt around him and the taste of you on his tongue, something ignited within him. Axe used all his momentum and flipped your bodies over so that you laid out on your back, the robe framing your nude figure perfectly.

“Axe…”

He thrust into you once before he paused, “I lied,” he grunted as he thrust again, “Now you’ve never looked more lovely,” Axe’s breathy voice went right to your core.

“Fuck!” you cried out as you clung to his shoulders.

Axe wasted no time in pounding into you while murmuring soft praises in Mando’a in your ear. Your screams were music to his ears as he thrust into your wet pussy over and over again. Your hand found its way to the base of his scalp again and you tugged at his hair as you lost yourself in him. Tears filled your eyes as his cock filled you over and over again.

“Darling,” Axe murmured in a breathy voice. He held onto you as he thrust his hips against yours as if he was afraid of letting you go. 

“I know,” you whispered.

With a grunt, Axe bit your shoulder, making you moan loudly. Both of you clung to the other as sweat lined your bodies. As he felt his own climax quickly approach, Axe snaked a hand between your bodies and rubbed at your clit.

“Cum with me, darling,” he groaned, “Let me feel you cum on my cock.”

“Fuck… Axe…” You were too lost in your pleasure to form any other words. But he didn’t have to wait long and with just a few more thrusts of his cock, you came hard.

Your scream drowned out Axe’s growl as his orgasm hit right after yours. Tears filled your eyes and your legs shook, and you felt Axe spill himself inside you as his breathing became shaky against your skin. Together you rode out both your climaxes until you were both a trembling mess.

Axe collapsed down on top of you, his warmth radiating through the beskar as he held you tightly. You whimpered as you wrapped your arms and legs around him, holding him as close as you could as his cock softened inside of you. A shiver ran up your spine as you felt his release drip from your pussy.

He must have felt it too, because Axe pushed himself up with a strained grunt, “Hold on, darling,” his voice was soft as he slowly pulled out of you with a hiss. When you whined at the loss of him, he gave you a soft look and cupped your face, “I’ve got you,” he repeated his words in a softer tone.

Axe made quick work of using the top sheet to clean you up before he laid down next to you and gathered you back in his arms once more. You both laid together in the comfortable silence for some time, as if you both knew that the world waited for both of you beyond the door and you savored the time you had together while you could.

“Axe?” you broke the silence.

“Yes, love?”

“I know you can’t stay the night,” your voice shook, “But don’t leave yet. I don’t want to feel cheap if you left now.”

You heard him let out a single laugh as he squeezed you tighter, “We don’t want that now, do we, love?” he paused, “I’m not leaving you yet.”

You let out a relieved sigh as you closed your eyes and just let the feeling of Axe’s embrace warm you. A few moments went by before you spoke again, “Do you think our people could ever be allies?”

“We both want what’s best for our people, my lady,” he replied, “But I wouldn’t say it’s out of the range of possibility.”

Silence fell over both of you again as time moved on. This time, though, it was Axe who broke it, “You were right, you know.”

“About what?”

“You weren’t the first to seduce me.”

You furrowed your brows, “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because,” he took your hand and moved it over his chest where he covered your hand with his, “You are the first to do something else…” The look in his eyes made your heart flutter as you knew what he was trying to tell you. 

You let out a deep sigh as you shifted to meet his eyes, “Axe, I…”

“Wait,” he cut you off with a finger to your lips, “I know,” his gaze was sharp as his eyes bore into yours.

You knew why he didn’t want to say it. It wasn’t because he didn’t feel for you. You knew he did. You knew from his actions and the way he held you. Neither of you could stop the feelings that bloomed between you, but Axe could keep your heart safe if for some reason he never returned to you. 

“I should get back to my people,” Axe reluctantly got up and grabbed his gloves and helmet. You stayed on the bed, wrapping the rode around your body as you watched him. Your heart ached, but you knew this was how things had to be. He knew it too, and he paused and looked at you longingly for a moment before he leaned forward and kissed you deeply once more. Breathing your name against your lips, Axe whispered, “I…”

You smiled sadly, “I know.”

As much as he cared for and was loyal to his people, Axe still found it hard to leave you behind. Reaching down into his boot, he pulled out a small knife and handed it to you, “I’ll be back for this… my lady…” and for my heart.

“I’ll keep it safe,” you whispered as you held the small knife against your chest.

Axe pressed his forehead against yours and both of you closed your eyes and took in a deep breath, “I have to go,” he breathed before he forced himself away from you. 

“Be safe,” you called out to Axe’s retreating form.

“You too, my lady,” he turned over his shoulder before he walked out your door.

It was soon after that other Mandalorians arrived on your planet and Axe and the others left with him with the mission to retake their home planet. You only wished you had the chance to see him one more time before he left. All you were left with was his small dagger and a holo message he managed to send:

“My lady, I’m sorry to leave suddenly, but we aim to retake Mandalore and the time to move is now. I promise you though, the moment the planet is ours… the moment I’m able to return to you, I will. Until then, you have two things that belong to me, keep them safe. And I’ll tell you what I couldn’t say when I return.”

You sighed as you clutched Axe’s dagger to your chest.

*

“You miss him,” the Duchess said.

“What?!” you were brought back to the present by her voice jolting you from your thoughts.

“That handsome Mandalorian,” she clarified, “I can tell you liked him.”

“I…” you stuttered, trying to find your words, but none came to mind, “Yeah,” you finally admitted. 

“Don’t worry, my dear friend,” she placed a hand on your shoulder, “I have a feeling you’ll see him again.”

“How do you know?”

“I saw the way he looked at you,” he winked, “He’ll come back to you.”

As if on cue, fanfaire blared through the elegant room and a droid announced the arrival of a Mandalorian. You looked at the Dutchess and your face lit up as the two of you made your way to the front of the crowd to greet your guest. And your heart nearly exploded from your chest when you saw Axe Woves again.

He met your gaze and smile before he announced to the room, “Mandalore belongs to Mandaloirans once more!”

Cheers erupted in the room.

“And I am here to propose an alliance with Plazir-15.”

The Duchess stepped forward, “We would welcome that, Mandaloiran Axe Woves.”

He bowed to her before his gaze fell on you.

She glanced between you and him before he spoke elegantly, “I’ll leave my trusted right hand woman to talk details with you.” She gave you a sly smile and a wink. 

You felt a wave of embarrassment as she retreated back to the crowd, leaving you and Axe facing each other. You fiddled with your fingers for a moment before the emotions overwhelmed you and you launched yourself into his arms, “Axe,” you breathed as he wrapped his arms around you and held you tightly, “I was worried I’d never see you again.”

“I told you I’d come back to you once we had Mandalore,” he said in your ear, “And I have so much to tell you.”

“Well then,” you smirked, “Why don’t we go somewhere private then?”

His face lit up and he slid his hand in yours, “Lead the way… my lady.”

[anxiousotters]

Rewatching The Mandalorian S3 and oh my god, Axe and Paz have so many fantastic little moments??

1. The eye contact when the Mandalorian fleet first touches down on Nevarro

2. The way Paz instantly volunteers to scout Mandalore’s surface after Axe does

3. Their exchange on the drop-ship

4. The little nod during the perimeter sweep

5. The fight

6. How they get Grogu out of danger together

7. Axe monologuing about the Great Forge and Paz asking follow-up questions

8. The way Paz not only believes that Axe is their best chance at getting word to the fleet but also notices the gap in the ceiling and lays down cover for him

9. Axe standing next to Ragnar when Bo-Katan re-lights the Great Forge

Proof:

[wixiany]

Riduurok of Convenience

Summary:

Paz froze, not sure if he had heard right.

Axe turned to him, a wry grin on his face. "What? I'm already raising your son, might as well say the riduurok now."

* * *

or Paz survived and Axe finds him, but his helmet had been long removed. Axe offers a simple solution.

[aceisferal]

I haven’t gotten much work done on the flower farm/earth au yet but I have this snippet of Paz and Axe (and Ragnar) in the future so

—————

As he scrubs a pan, focusing on a patch of burnt on pasta, Paz looks out the window. There’s a group of children running through one of the wildflower fields off in the distance, playing a game of hide and go seek tag that’s more running and tagging than seeking and hiding. A little closer, Apollo is pulling a cat out of a tree and handing it to his youngest, Crow, if Paz remembers right. Most importantly, and practically just outside the windows, Axe and Ragnar are pulling weeds from the garden.

Or, they were a minute ago, before Axe started spraying Ragnar with the water hose. Then Ragnar threw a handful of dirt at him, which lead to Axe throwing a handful of dirt back. This all very quickly became a full mud fight. Paz gently slips the pan back into the sink, takes off the dishwashing gloves he was wearing, and opens the window, preparing to scold the both of them.

Instead though, he’s met with the loud and genuine sound of laughter— both the distant giggles of the children in the field, but also the loud laughter of Axe and Ragnar, and he just can’t bring himself to tell them to stop. They’re already muddy and dirty, though, so he’ll have to keep an eye on them to make sure they don’t try and come inside and trek mud through the place. Shame, it seems like Paz will have to keep the window open.

[snorkin-sporks]

Update on the axepaz fic: I'm a procrastination machine, I'm seven months and 3.5 chapters in, and oh boy. It has been a journey and I'm nowhere near done. It will eventually (hopefully) be posted on ao3, and I'll link when the time comes. Meanwhile I need to get my shit together!

Yes I am shamelessly projecting my chronic illness on Axe but so what. Judge me ig :(

[kalevalakryze]

 nuhoyir

pairing: bo-katan kryze x the armorer

characters: bo-katan kryze, the armorer, din djarin, grogu, ragnar vizsla, axe woves (mentioned) , sabine wren (mentioned) , ahsoka tano (mentinoed)

warnings: none

notes: based off this post!

Ruling Mandalore was not an easy task for any one person, but… well, Bo could not deny the fresh air at the feeling of seeing all of the people together. Every building risen besides her fellow Mandalorian, Niteowl, Child of the Watch, Bounty Hunter, even those who’d had to remove their armor to survive, as they’d flocked back to their Home in the time it took to rebuild. There was no shortage of things to be done, for the Mand’alor, or The Armorer, who hadn’t once left her side. 

It was a new feeling, for sure, one that took a long time to get used to, but when she bounced ideas, plans, and even random nonsense off The Armorer, she was not ridiculed, she was not being suddenly impeached and thrown away like trash. Instead, The Armorer helped her see open gaps in her thinking, helped her understand how each decision would effect all points of view, instead of the ones she was used to worrying about. 

Even a year after retaking their home, things still weren’t perfect, to say. Mandalorians still fought, and she’d found herself pulled into her own brawl or two, but Skira, who’d finally stepped away from the helmet every now and then, had helped Bo see that there was a strength in walking away, that shed already proved herself, she didn’t need to keep doing so. 

Of course, both women found themselves in their old habits all too often. The habits they’d adapted to to survive were harder to drop than anything. When armor orders started rolling in, and she was still trying to train her apprentices, Skira often needed pulled away from the forge at night, needed help putting down the hammer and washing away the soot from the day. Bo managed to find other armorer’s, not nearly as skilled as Skira, but they’d known enough to keep their own armor maintained, had helped create their children’s armor from beskar alloys, and they were able to handle a large majority off training, until Skira’s schedule could open enough to move everyone a step forward. Even with her own adepts working on armor with her, she was only human, and Bo would still find her in the forge until late at night every couple of months. 

Bo’s survival adaptations had been mildly different. On the off chance that she could be found in her quarters, trying to sleep, she would be near fully armored. She avoided rest like a plague and chased more and more work until she couldn’t hold up to any promises she’d made. She’d be found trying to raise beams and supports, or weld brackets together, so the morning construction crews wouldn’t have to work so hard… The biggest issue had been her temper running shorter than ever the longer she’d deprived herself of sleep, until the smallest mistake in her midnight construction would have her shoving her foot into a beam until the wood would splinter and crack under the force, rendering a large material loss until Skira got a chance to step up. 

Even when she did manage to get Bo to rest, the Mand’alor would adamantly refuse to remove more than her helmet, jetpack, and knee joints, would sleep ready to activate her gauntlet’s blade or grapple, had buried the blade deep into her mattress on more than one occasion when a nightmare would have her tensing and striking out. It wasn’t until Bo-Katan had dropped in her storage room, had clawed at her armor and practically begged for help removing the chest plate, that Skira had decided the best way to help her Mand’alor.

Each night, Skira would pull Bo away from whatever activity she’d holed herself into, would make removing her armor a slow process each night, and would rub out the knots and stiffness in her muscles. It became a tradition of sorts, one both women would look forward to, where Bo would wipe away the mess of the forge from Skira’s skin, and Skira would help relieve the tension of carrying more than just Beskar on her shoulders.

For the last week, both women had been wrapped up in their respective habits, neither able to spare a moment to step away, not when Din was visiting to have Grogu’s first helmet fitted, and Bo-Katan had to handle her first debate with the New Republic over the Mandalore system’s control. 

When Din had landed that afternoon, it was to an all new Mandalore. They’d created a life on the surface to withstand the weather, and had also burrowed into the planet, had started to rebuild the old cities that few could remember from their lives before the purge. Grogu had been quick to run off and tag along with Ragnar, both Mandalorians more than excited to show off the skills they’d learned,

“Be at the forge in an hour, Grogu,” Din called to their retreating backs, a small smile on his lips as he headed to the forge himself, pausing at the sight of the great forge, relit and in full operation. Nearly a hundred hammers echoed a symphony as each worked on some project, but The Armorer’s helm was unmistakable. He’d made his footsteps known as he approached, though he’d made it all the way to her workbench before she’d even looked up. 

“Din Djarin,” She greeted, and eve the vocoder was dripping with exhaustion, causing the silver Mandalorians’ head to move off kilter to the side. “You have come for your apprentice’s armor,” Her gloved hands patted behind her, where half finished projects were waiting. 

“Armorer,” He started, because she was lifting and moving pieces in a cluttered workstation, something he’d never thought he’d see with her. “The kid can wait some time, gar shuk meh kyrayc.” 

The Armorer paused her search, staring at Din for a moment. He had been afraid he’d overstepped for a moment, before she’d exhaled and nodded her head. “This is the way,” Her heart wasn’t in it, he could tell, but she obviously needed rest, and what kind of person would he be if he didn’t state the obvious. He stayed with her as she cleaned her station in seemingly slow motion, stepping in every few moments to lend a hand with moving pieces and closing different mineral treatments. 

It wasn’t long before Grogu’s babbles reached his ears, and his head turned to watch as Bo-Katan entered the forge. She held Grogu on her hip, and was offering him a tired smile. The two were having some kind of a conversation, he never understood too much, even now, but it seemed like she was just content to have someone listen as she explained her stance on the New Republic’s patrol routes. 

“Lady Kryze,” The Armorer spoke first, as Grogu wiggled in Bo’s arms until she got close enough for him to jump the gap between his father and her, landing in Din’s arms with a self satisfied babble. 

“I assume you also were on the receiving end of the Clan of Two’s most polite ‘you look like bantha shit’ as well?” Bo spoke, her smile tugging at her lips as her hand moved to clap Din’s shoulder as he bowed his head, and rest her hand on Grogu’s head for a second. 

“It appears that way,” The Armorer deflated only slightly, before her head turned to Grogu. “I see you are learning well, Din Grogu,” Her words were met with another babble, and a satisfied smile on the apprentices mouth. “I am sure Ragnar will have no trouble finding both of you a place to stay, If you have the time, until I can properly finish the armor you’ve sent me the measurements for?” 

“Take your time,” Din confirmed as he shifted his son in his arms, his heavy sigh filling the air as Grogu started to pull on a loose leather tassel from his bandolier. “I may need to see how well your training grounds have come along,” And then he was dipping his head and stepping away once more, departing as the two leaders of Mandalore finally got a chance to look at each other for the first time the entire week.

“Busy week?” Bo questioned dryly as they both headed to the exit, side by side, hands brushing as they made their way to surface. 

“indeed, for you as well?” 

“I could sleep for the next fifty years,” Bo confirmed as they walked the familiar path to their home. A thin layer of dust had settled in their absence, but both women decided it would be an issue for a later them. 

As Bo ran a bath in their recently installed plumbing, Skira handled removing her own armor and setting it on the stand in their bedroom. By the time the condensation rose from the fresher door, The Armorer was already stepping in to start helping Bo, who’d been uselessly fumbling with the straps to her chest plate once more. 

They were silent as they both settled into the large tub, Skira settling between Bo’s legs, leaning back against her front as the redhead started the soothing process of helping her clean away a weeks worth of nasty work, fingers brushing her hair from its braid as carefully as she could. When she was clean, and she could feel Bo’s lips pressing into the back of her neck, more so out of finding a way to lean into her from behind, the shorter woman stood.

Bo had blinked tiredly up at her when she’d stepped out of the tub, but one glance had the woman scooting forward, water rippling and licking at the edges of the tub as Skira settled back in behind her. 

The only sound in their home were Bo’s quiet groans as Skira rubbed out each muscle, staying well until the water grew cold before either of them were close to willing to leave the calm sanctuary. It was when Bo’s head had dropped back against her shoulder that Skira finally made the executive decision to get them moving, unplugging the drain while Bo gathered the towels.

When they were dry, Skira was the first to settle into bed. They didn’t need to worry about finding room for Bo-Katan’s sewer drake, thanks to Axe petsitting when he’d noticed both women’s schedules growing busy (it helped that Ragnar loved the thing, too). Bo-Katan had been quick to shut the lights off and settle into the all too familiar position in Skira’s side, their legs tangling as a strong arm draped across Skira’s broad hips. Sleep came faster than ever for either woman that night, with Bo pressed close and her breath fanning against her neck, Skira was able to nod off in peace. 

Morning came almost too soon, though, Skira couldn’t be upset with the view. Bo’s hair was a sprawled haphazard mess against her chest, her nose crinkled just a bit, with her hands fisted comfortably into the blankets near her chin. A bird hooted at the bedroom window, though she could not say it was one she ever recognized. With squinted eyes, she tried to place the green feathering, but. Kept coming up blank. 

“Good morning,” Bo’s sleepy voice broke her peace. It was quiet, deep, and raspy, and combined with the woman pressing further into her chest, Skira couldn’t help but to comb her fingers through messy red hair, and press her lips to a forehead, textured with a battle scar, and the lines of spending too much time overstressed. “ ‘soka's bird,” Her Mand’alor grumbled into her skin, before pressing soft kisses against her shoulder and chest. “Mentioned visiting with ‘bine,” Bo continued sleepily, before her head settled back on Skira’s chest. “They’ll wake us up if they blow anything up, back to sleep,” 

And well, who was she to disobey a command from her Mand’alor? It wasn’t like she would ever be able to move to tear the woman off her chest, that would be a cruelty she could never wish on the woman whose story had once been one of warning, that she’d watched turn into one of redemption, and the story she wound up falling in love with. 

[jono723]

Children of Mandalore

I have not died on this fic. I swear, it just took a while to finish to find the direction I generally wanna go. Don't worry it's still your choice but I get to play game master XD

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Bo's admiration

Previous

Winner: Bo brings both of them to stop the fight

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Bo-Katan puts on her helmet. “Let’s go end the children's quarrel,” Bo says as she heads to the entrance, both Koska and the Armorer following behind her, chuckling at Bo’s words. They break off into a sprint.

“Hopefully, these children haven’t destroyed anything.” The armorer quips back while running, “Maybe their jaws and fragile pride.” Koska jest, making the three women laugh.

When they arrive at the campfire, they see two Mandalorians fighting, both clad in blue armor. Bo observed the crowd's reaction, some watching silently, some wanting to join in with people trying to stop them, while the rest were cheering the two fighters.

“Sto-” Bo was cut off as the two fighters jetpacked into a wall of one of the buildings. “Alright, that's it. Stop all of you!” Bo shouts, drowning out one of the Mandalorians, complaining that their house just got destroyed. 

Everyone stops and snaps to attention except the two clashing Mandalorians. Bo motions Koska to restrain one of them with her grapple while Bo restrains the other. 

Both shot the fighting Mandalorians, restraining them before they could trade blows again. The two Mandalorians can be seen sporting bruises and cuts on their faces due to their fighting without their helmets. “Now, do both of you want to explain to me what started this? That you had to start acting like children interrupting everyone's dinner and destroying someone's house?” Bo asked in a cold voice as she removed her helmet. 

The two Mandalorians look around, looking at what their fight had done. A few plates of food were spilled on the floor while a few chairs and tables were broken, and behind that lay a pile of rubble and a massive hole in the wall.

Axe, being a brave fool, decided to break the silence. “I had to defend Ragnar from his words that insult his father's sacrifice for our people that sent the child running,” looking up at Bo-Katan with determination in his eyes. 

Bo then looks at the other Mandalorian, another niteowl. “What did you say to the boy?” Bo asks as she stares at the man. “ I was joking about how he was a Vizsla, yet he couldn’t even get off the ground properly without screaming like a princess and how he’s a disappointment,” the other niteowl said, looking down at the ground.

“YOU SAID THAT TO A CHILD!!” Bo shouts, narrowing her eyes at the man. “Where did he go?” The Armorer asks, cutting in. The people around pointed in the direction the child ran to, and she sprinted off. 

“Are you a child? Do you not know respect? You should know better than to say that about a child who has just started training, especially when he’s in the same vicinity and when his father sacrificed his life for our cause,” Bo spits with venom. 

“You two are to return home and tend to your wounds, and you are to report to my office in the morning to receive your punishments for this mess, and you are to apologize to Ragnar tomorrow, and I hope you prepare for what I have in store for you,” Bo ordered as she and Koska released the two, who hurriedly gathered their helmets and returned to their respective homes.

“I’ll send you a list of heavy labor projects that we need to do by midnight,” Koska says as she walks towards Bo. “Thank you. Can I leave the cleanup to you? I want to check on Ragnar.” Bo asks, pointing to the area. “Of course, this is easy. The boy would need you more.” Koska replies with a nod. Bo runs in the direction the Armorer goes with her helmet in hand.

Bo finds the armorer and Ragnar near the ravine of the Empire remnant base. The two didn't notice her walking closer. She can see Ragnar shaking while hugging the Armorer. 

"Why can't I just do the stupid drill properly?" Ragnar sobs under his helmet. “In due time, you will learn it like we all did at your age. The fruits of your effort will show that you will be a better fighter than me and your father.” The Armorer explains, rubbing Ragnar’s back. "Why did he have to go!?" Ragnar screams in anguish.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

This is an interactive fic, so as always, choose wisely. This will affect the story.

It's time to vote!!

[martianbugsbunny]

We Are Mandalorians: Our Love Must Be Forged (An AxePaz Fic)—Chapter 1

Hello, sweeties! This is a rivals-to-lovers fix-it AxePaz fic (the fix-it is for Paz’s death and the rivals-to-lovers takes a lot of bickering and homoerotic sparring, and some softer moments too). I guess it’s probably obvious, but Axe is going to be the one who saves Paz eventually. They’re gonna spelunk on Mandalore together, they’re gonna fight, they’re gonna have a great time—and so are you! Enjoy!

Axe had kept his eye on the larger, taciturn Mandalorian of the Watch since they left Nevarro’s orbit. He was a Vizsla—and they were a dangerous clan. A Vizsla in ancient times had been the one to forge the Darksaber, the symbol of the Manda’lor, and although the blade had changed hands many times throughout history, Vizslas always seemed to end up fighting to win it back.

Now, as he watched, Paz Vizsla knelt down in front of a child, probably no more than eight or nine, and laid a large hand on his shoulder. “You must stay here, Ragnar,” he said. Axe studied the child’s helmet; the colors were the same as those on Paz’s. This must be his child, Axe realized with jolt. He hadn’t pictured Paz as a family man—but he was quite gentle with his son, despite how little room for argument his tone left, and Axe knew instantly Paz had fulfilled the great calling of a Mandalorian in being a worthy parent. “Behave yourself,” Paz continued. “Don’t touch the weapons that aren’t for training, and don’t start fights with the younger children.”

Ragnar nodded, and Paz leaned the forehead of his helmet against his son’s. “I will return soon,” Paz said.

He stood and squeezed his son’s shoulder, then turned towards the rest of the landing party. Many of them, Axe had seen give their goodbyes already; some had none to give. There were only a few who had not yet arrived.

“What are you looking at?” Paz asked brusquely. Axe stared at him. “It’s rude to eavesdrop, Nite Owl.”

Axe felt anger rear up within him. He never gave much effort to restraining himself; it seemed a waste of energy. He knew he could win almost any fight, and what’s more, most of the people he spent time with on a daily basis knew it, too.

Paz didn’t back down when Axe stepped up, toe-to-toe, each with a hand threateningly close to his blaster. “You were speaking in plain sight,” Axe said. There was an edge buried deep in his tone that was sharper than the edge of the vibroblade holstered on his arm, which most failed to detect. Paz, however, seemed to hear every dark thing the inflection promised, and cracked his neck to one side.

“Alright, Mandalorians, it’s time to move out!”

Bo-Katan Kryze’s voice broke through the ranks of the gathered Mandalorians. Axe could almost see it coming between him and Paz, an invisible wall preventing any bloodshed on the deck of the ship.

Paz stared at him for a few moments. Axe didn’t like that he could never see what the Children of the Watch were thinking; he preferred an opponent whose eyes he could read. “Watch your step, Nite Owl,” Paz said, before turning to follow the others to the bay where their landing ship was waiting.

As Axe purposefully lengthened his stride to walk in front of Paz, he felt his anger making room for something else, something that had been born in him the moment he saw Paz with his son...though it was fed by much less tender things.

He had enjoyed stepping up to the cobra’s dance of a proper standoff. He loved the adrenaline that shot through him when Paz had refused to give, the sickeningly thrilling anticipation at the idea of actually dueling him.

He shoved that back down as he buckled himself into the seat, but he also pushed his anger away. He needed his head clear for the recon mission.

Then Paz walked into the ship and sat down right next to him, and suddenly keeping emotion to a minimum seemed a much more daunting task.

[trans-elrond]

ani's @wipbigbang wips

hear ye hear ye, here follows the list of works i have submitted for the @wipbigbang--aka i intend to finish them in time for the august deadline, wish me luck:

The Rings of Power

surrendered at the start of the game, valandil/elendil/míriel (~35,000 words left) [codenamed valandil]

crushed by the wheel and reshaped by the gear [changed by love], elrond/adar (~20,000) words left) [codenamed adar]

where nature unmakes the boundary, elrond/durin (~5,000 words left) [codenamed durin]

Poker Face

keep up the pace [to keep you satisfied], charlie/cliff (~15,000 words left) [codenamed charlie]

Stranger Things

take my hand, wreck my plans, eddie/steve/reader (~20,000 words left) [codenamed eddie]

MCU/Eternals

for all your suffering by night, you are not separate from me, druig/makkari/ikaris (~15000 words left) [codenamed druig]

please feel free to send me encouragement/hype/accountability/memes if you care about or read any of these, it will keep me going and be truly appreciated ❤️❤️❤️

[flightlessangelwings]

Ktober 2023 Day 2- Knife Play

Axe Woves x fem!reader

Word count- 1.2k

Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), training, tension and flirting, sub!Axe, riding, knife play, no use of y/n

Notes- Oh I had fun with this one! Shout out to the Axe girlies (gn) who had this thought floating around! And I had to use that gif cause it fits so perfectly lol! Enjoy!

@flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so please follow that too and turn on post notifs to stay up to date on my new fics!

~

The sounds of grunts and blades clanging together filled the training room. You and Axe Woves sparred together often, and you learned a lot from him as he taught you tips and tricks. As grateful as you were to learn from someone like him, you couldn’t help but enjoy your training for other reasons as well. Being so close to him as your blades clashed together made your heart race, and when he looked into your eyes you swore time stopped for a moment.

“Don’t get distracted darling,” Axe quipped as he lunged for you.

You snapped back to the moment and blocked his attack, countering immediately, “Who says I’m distracted?” you snarked back, hoping to hide the way your eyes roamed over his figure whenever you got the opportunity.

Axe just huffed in amusement, “Let’s see how much you’ve improved then,” he smirked as he launched himself at you again.

It was a maneuver you’d seen him do before, and before you could never counter it. But today, you were determined not to lose. Thinking quickly, you raised your blade and steadied yourself for his attack, then used his weight and momentum to spin him out, causing him to lose his balance. That was when you rushed over with your own blade.

“Well done, darling,” Axe praised you as he blocked your attack, “You’re getting better.” He couldn’t help but glance down at your lips as his own thoughts raced in his mind.

Your heart flipped in your chest as you noticed his action, and you couldn’t believe that Axe Woves was looking at you like that. Part of you wanted to pinch yourself to make sure you weren’t dreaming, but at the same time you didn’t want to wake up if you were.

“Don’t get distracted,” you threw his words back at him with a low, sultry tone as you made a quick move to disarm him.

In a flash, you were able to knock Axe’s knife out of his hand and push him down onto the ground. Quickly, you straddled him, holding his own knife to his throat with a fire in your eyes. Heavy breaths filled the room as neither of you moved, yet the tension in the air was palpable. 

“Wow,” he breathed as he looked up at you in admiration. 

Your pulse quickened as one thought popped in your head: how hot Axe looked on his back like this. You bit your lip to suppress a moan.

“Darling,” his tone dropped as he caressed your hips and ran his hands up your sides, “If I may say so,” he paused as he rested his hand on your hips, “I’ve imagined quite a few scenarios with you… And this is hotter than any of them.” He looked at you with conviction in his eyes.

You gasped, “You… Imagined… Me?” your words came out in heavy breaths as you stuttered, yet the knife- his knife- you held stayed firm against his throat.

“I have,” he admitted, suddenly sheepish, “Tell me I’m wrong, and we’ll forget this ever happened, but I suspect if I were to do this,” Axe suddenly reached for the back of your head and yanked you down so that your lips hovered over his, “You wouldn’t object,” he finished in a whisper.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you felt his breath on your lips, “Never,” you smirked as you crashed your lips to his in a heated kiss.

Axe’s hands roamed all over your figure as you deepened the kiss. He felt his cock harden already, and he groaned when you rocked your hips against his ever so slightly. His skin warmed as he laid underneath you, with only the cold metal of his knife that you still held firmly against him the only reprieve from the warmth. 

“Axe,” you moaned his name between kisses as you rocked your hips more purposefully. 

“I have another confession,” he said when you both broke away for air. When you tilted your head slightly, he continued, “I have been waiting for you to beat me,” he let out a sharp laugh, “I had the feeling I would enjoy it… And I do,” he motioned to the knife on his neck, “I have to say you holding my own knife against me… Does something…”

“Oh does it now?” you purred as you shifted it slightly closer to his throat so that more of the sharp edge pressed against his skin, “I like it too,” your tone was low and dripped with lust as you bucked your hips once more, feeling his hardening cock against your body.

Then Axe let out a loud moan as his eyes fluttered shut and your resolve broke. Need suddenly filled the air as you pushed yourself off of him just enough to fumble with his pants and free his cock. Axe quickly caught on to what you were doing and hurriedly helped you undress enough so that your pants were off.

As you settled yourself on top of him once more, his cock grazing against your bare thigh, you grabbed the knife once more, “To keep you in place,” you murmured with a smirk.

“As if I would go anywhere,” his own voice dropped as his eyes darkened.

You rocked yourself against his cock a few times, allowing yourself to feel him before you lifted your hips and lined yourself up with the tip. Slowly, you sank down, both of you letting out loud moans as you did so. All the while, the knife never moved from his neck.

Your pace was steady and easy at first as you carefully bounced up and down on his cock. One hand stayed holding the knife while the other rested on his strong chest to steady yourself. Axe’s own hands stayed on your hips to help guide you, though he was perfectly content to stay underneath you.

“I like you like this, Axe Woves,” you smirked as you leaned forward and teased him with his knife once more.

All he could do was let out a low groan of your name as you rode him harder and faster. 

Panting filled the room but this time for a different reason. You bounded on Axe’s cock as you rode him hard, feeling him fill you up deeply. His knife stayed against his throat, both of you too turned on by its presence to move it. Sweat lined both your bodies as you both chased the release you craved so much.

And it didn’t take long for you each to get what you wanted.

“Darling,” he grunted as he bucked his hips up, “I’m…”

“Me too,” you breathed as heat built up from your core.

You leaned forward, and the new angle hit that sweet spot deep inside you. You took Axe’s lips with yours as you finally tossed the knife aside and wrapped your arms around him as much as you could. Axe held you tightly against his chest as you both hit your peaks at the same time. Swallowing each other’s moans, you rode out your climaxes together on the training room floor until you couldn’t hold yourself up any longer.

Collapsing down, you let out a heavy breath as you relaxed on top of him. Axe gently held you, caressing your body against his. Vaguely, you were both aware anyone could walk in at any moment, but neither of you seemed to care enough to move. You were too content to stay like this anyway.

[anxiousotters]

I don't even go here but I simply must know about PaxAxe child of divorce au?

AHHHHHH PAZAXE MY BELOVED THANK YOU FOR THE ASK <3<3<3 (I’m so normal about them I swear)

In this AU, Paz and Axe (who were never married in the first place) have split custody of Ragnar due to some convoluted mandalorian adoption laws after Paz was falsely declared dead, and now they’re learning how to co-parent

“Come on,” Paz says gruffly. He turns and heads up the stairs without so much as a backwards glance. Axe rolls his eyes, but follows him up to the roof. “Sit.” The man orders. Axe shoots him an irritated look, but does so, folding himself down onto the smooth sandstone ledge and letting his legs dangle over the side. Their pauldrons clink together as Paz settles into the space beside him. For a moment, neither of them say anything as they watch the sun set over the ridge. “Do you want to talk about it?” “No thanks.” “Suit yourself,” Paz shrugs. Out of the corner of his eye, Axe sees him pull a flask from his belt. Paz turns away slightly, tipping the lip of his helmet up and— Axe quickly averts his gaze. He didn’t see anything, but the casual air of the gesture— and the subsequent trust it implies— makes his heart skip a beat. “Here,” Paz says, nudging the flask into Axe’s hands and breaking him out of his thoughts. “Drink.” “Has anyone ever told you that you’re quite pushy?” Axe grumbles as he takes a pull, even though he uses it to hide his quietly pleased smile. The tihaar burns on the way down. He’s not sure if he’s imagining the lingering warmth of Paz’s lips on the bottle.

[the-kittylorian-writes]

"In Dreams, We Wake" (1/?)

Fandom: Star Wars - The Mandalorian

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Type: Multi-chapter Status: Ongoing Warnings: Season 3 spoilers, graphic depictions of violence (some chapters), ptsd, subjects on grief & mourning Story Summary: Two years have passed since Ragnar lived the creed without his father. The boy keeps a facade, hiding his true nature as he leads a double life.

Between his roles as Mandalorian apprentice and heir to an ancient House, Ragnar is willing to weave through a complex path that haunts him and the Vizsla name—if only his father were there to see him again. Perhaps, Paz Vizsla will.

The question remains for Ragnar: What would he do and how far would he go for the father he loves?

Read on AO3 (w/ author's notes) or here:

Chapter Summary: A child is restored. An estranged teacher is concerned for his apprentice. A son dreams while a father sleeps.

O the cunning wiles that creep In thy little heart asleep! When thy little heart doth wake, Then the dreadful night shall break. -William Blake, “Cradle Song”

~Chapter 1: A Bittersweet Lullaby~

In a clearing around a crackling fire, a circle of ruffians swayed in drunken stupor, celebrating their spoils of the day. Another village raided, another town razed to the ground; more frightened families were torn down and torn apart.

Amidst the slurred cheers and incoherent talk of various species was the thin and high wailing of an infant. It was the solitary sound that seemed human.

Five Quarren, four Trandoshans, and a massive Devaronian were rolling in their spoils—hard-earned harvests after a long drought, scarce yet valuable pieces of jewelry adorned by ancestral weight, the gold spun in them enough to fetch a decent amount of credits with the right barter. Four towns ransacked and bled dry, with homes shattered and bodies left in their wake. A trail of death would lead a pursuant to this very circle, and yet no authorities gave chase. The New Republic held no sway in these pathetic parts of a galaxy worn down by years of war. 

These raiders, these murderers… they were scot-free.

One of the Trandoshans was vainly shushing an infant to silence, but to no avail. His comrades began to mock him. Was it worth the trouble—this human infant? How large a sum would such fragile life fetch from the slavers? It was a human baby with sensibilities none of them, considering their varied species, was familiar with. Its feeding, care, and upkeep would simply weigh them down. Perhaps it wasn’t worth it.

“We should just eat it,” casually suggested another Trandoshan. The Quarren shook their heads, but not out of disgust for moral reasons. Humans were not palatable and had not really been part of the regular Quarren diet. The Devaronian grinned with eerie quietude in his corner, a towering shadow half-lit by the fire. The three other Trandoshans who accompanied the self-assigned nursemaid were eyeing the infant with sharp, gleaming stares. “It looks like it’s barely half a standard year old. Its meat would be very soft…”

The Trandoshan rocking the squealing infant hissed. “The boss would say otherwise. Better hand this thing over to the boss first and let him decide!”

The Quarren made snide remarks about this particular Trandoshan being such a rump-kisser, always trying to curry favor when their so-called boss couldn’t care less. It was simply the language of credits that spoke clearly to the boss. Spoils which constituted bottles of mead or spotchka would be next to ideal. 

—and not this tiny child, helplessly flailing, its limbs shaking with each cry which piteously sliced through the oily night air. 

The billowing smoke which curled from the fires was thick. Soon, a syrupy fog blanketed the merrymakers. 

“Feed that brat some mead, get it drunk a little,” spat one of the Quarren through a squared jaw. His tentacles squirmed distastefully with every quaking shriek the baby made. “If you insist on keeping that tiny piece of filth, at least keep the damn thing quiet!”

The Trandoshan with the child hissed again, but with more reluctance. He gingerly rocked the infant, almost reconsidering either of the two suggestions. The baby’s cry, however, grew weaker and weaker. It was not faring well in this polluted pit which the thugs had dug for themselves.

The Devaronian’s robust growl rose above the din. “Not sure about you, but I’ve had enough of that kriffin’ Dray goat! We had nothing but their bones for the past week. Now that—“ the monster of a horned man pointed at the unfortunate child in the Trandoshan’s grasp with a knife already unsheathed, “—is a little something different for a change, huh? The boss doesn’t have to know we even had a human child.” The massive creature pinned the cornered “nursemaid” in place with his glare. “Give that up, now, Atur. There won’t be much left of it after we’re done. Even the bones would be tender…”

Scattered laughter wove through eager, raspy throats. Even the Quarren were starting to chime in for the sport of it all. Not one among their motley crew were fond of humans. 

Atur, the Trandoshan who had wanted to keep the child to curry favor from the boss was losing his resolve quickly. The Devaronian slowly got up from his corner with a menacing stride. 

“Here—HERE!” gurgled Atur, defeated. With a choke, he raised the child for his crew to take. The infant mewled weakly but had still life burning in him. “Just don’t hurt m—“

What came next from the depths of further darkness among the mounting, rustling foliage surrounding the raider campfire were flashes of movement—perhaps even quicker than lightning.

A high, whistling sound of an energy weapon igniting filled the twilight, breaking through the fray. A shape flitted from out of nowhere and stormed in between Atur and the rest of the camp—

The fires blew flat for a second as though from a harsh, quick wind—then the flames were completely extinguished by an unseen culprit.

There were a series of muttered curses from the Quarren and a huff from the Devaronian, mildly inconvenienced yet half-alert; there were growls and grumbles from the Trandoshans, but what stood out most of all was the howling cry of pain from none other than Atur himself.

“MY ARM!!!” he moaned, holding up nothing but a fresh stump where the limb which held the infant once was not a second ago. “S-something cut my arm!!!” He fumbled and panicked, and Atur’s pronouncement of their camp being ambushed by an unknown attacker sent everyone into a mass of chaos. 

In the dark, the clanking of blasters and any form of weapon these thugs could get their hands on filled the pale void. 

Suddenly, there was only silence. Not even the wind swayed the tops of trees. The dead fires still emitted a carpet of smoke which threatened to swallow them whole, and only served as a screen to hide their attackers… if there were indeed more than one.

Who tracked them here? The villagers were too cowardly, too malleable with their hopelessness. The infant’s parents had helplessly watched their son get spirited away. These ruffians could still recall the faces of the mother and father, bloodied and dumbfounded, shaken and shocked. The Devaronian had even forgone the pleasure of slaughtering them. It was just too easy and there was no thrill in that…

But the thrill had turned into terror.

“WHO’S THERE?!” roared the Devaronian impatiently. He brandished his blade and on his hip, he had readied a blaster. 

A rustle came from behind.

Everyone fired at that general direction, but the momentary blinks of illumination only showed them that there was no one there… or whoever was there had quickly moved to another position…

The attackers could be anywhere, everywhere.

And their assailants seemed to be taunting them.

Even Atur had fallen quiet in his throes of agony. His breath hitched in the dark, trembling. 

They had tried in vain to listen to the baby’s cry… but whoever had taken the child along with Atur’s dismembered limb had found a way to keep it from uttering a sound.

Did the child perish along with the attack? 

A small child’s gurgle came from yet another direction. 

“There!!!” yelled a Quarren, and more fired at that new target area, while others held back; they used the flashes of light lent by the fiery bolts to see their way around as they scattered and circled their now ruined camp. 

They could definitely hear the infant once again. Its coo and gurgle sounded—to their disbelief—calm, unthreatened. The sound came from everywhere when no eyes could pinpoint the source.

Whoever their assailants were—they were playing mind tricks on them. There was no explanation. Each ruffian began to shake in both desperation and fury. This was not a good look at all. They were unwittingly at the mercy of an unseen foe!

This defiant and rare event of being caught unawares was gaining on their sensibilities. They were starting to hear voices…

Two or three?

Or just one voice… and it was a young voice of one no older than a child himself.

“Stay here,” said the disembodied young voice gently, soothingly; it was then followed by a small gurgle of what sounded like assent. They were surely losing their minds. Was a mere infant holding conversation with an older child’s ghost? The voice was clipped; its tone was seemingly filtered by a modulator.

“I’ll be back for you,” said the young, coherent voice—and then, once more, the sound of an igniting energy weapon… a lightsaber? The Devaronian had heard of it before… the boss had kept a trophy. But no. Not a lightsaber. It was higher pitched. It warbled, like an electronic, musical insect… mesmerizing like a song…

A thin blade of non-light streaked through the darkness. The warbling turned into a moan and a shriek—then three of the Quarren fell, their bodies thudding loudly on the rocky ground…

“Dank farrik!!!” yowled the Trandoshans as three tentacled heads rolled close their feet. 

They fired their blasters indiscriminately. One Trandoshan cried out, then fell lifeless, slaughtered by friendly fire.

It was Atur. The creature’s sightless eyes dimmed and the light in them was gone.

The Devaronian had tried to be resourceful. He used rock and metal from his blade as flint and steel, and with brisk and mighty friction caused a flame that lit the clearing. 

That was when they beheld their culprits—

—or rather, culprit.

It was a lone figure who stood atop a rocky mound, crouched and mind-bogglingly relaxed. Its form was slight and lithe, and not very tall—was it human? They couldn’t tell. It had a helmet on with a signature T-shaped visor…

“A Mandalorian!” sputtered the remaining Quarrens in shock. “How—?!“

Before they could add more words to their statements, the rest of the squid-like species dropped to the ground, two simultaneous blobs smacking sickeningly upon the loam. 

Three Trandoshans and one Devaronian were left standing. Abruptly, the spoils of their raids no longer mattered. Their lives were flashing before their eyes. There was more regret of not being able to do more dastardly deeds before they had their fill, than the regret of committing any of them at all.

The Devaronian blew forth another flame until it was a torch in his hold. The monster of a man threw the torch upon a pile of withered twigs, which set ablaze at once.

This seemed to distract the lone Mandalorian a little. Its gaze flitted to the spot where he had left the infant. The Mandalorian seemed male by the shape of its body and how the armor fit him. Yet… the armor on this particular iron-clad warrior was lacking. His vambraces were functional but not durable. The parts fastened upon him were his pauldrons and one chest piece; only an arm guard and a leg guard opposite of either sides shielded his lower body.

The rest of him were exposed with only the heavy fabric of his flight suit to cushion blows and blaster bolts.

The distraction was enough to send the Trandoshans to take better aim. They fired once more—

“Ha!!” one of them cackled as a bolt successfully hit the Mandalorian close to the neck, sending out a fountain of sparks. The voice behind the helm gasped and yelped—but more in surprise than in pain. 

The Trandoshans stared on, unbelieving, and the Devaronian let out a howl of frustration. They were firing madly at a single target and yet there was not a graze upon the rest of the Mandalorian. 

Beskar! was the unsaid word… precious and deadly. This warrior was indeed Mandalorian who knew how to utilize his armor.

The warrior then held his dark energy blade high, and they knew that it was that weapon which also deflected the shots.

The Mandalorian was young. They couldn’t see his face, but there was a youthfulness to his movements, to his motions, to his very drive. He had the impulsiveness of a child yet the calculatedness of an eager learner, still on their way of mastering a difficult craft. 

The Mandalorian’s heavy breathing had permeated the gloom. This gave the remaining thugs some leverage of assumption—the Mandalorian was indeed but a child, and perhaps losing heart and was becoming scared. 

“Most of you were bite but all we have left now is a bit of bark, eh?” challenged a Trandoshan to the young Mandalorian. The fires had grown bigger; the smoke coiling through the haze was dark and suffocating. That damn Devaronian had slowly transformed the forest into an inferno in a season where drought had barely ended—!

The Mandalorian muttered something brief; these warriors at the brink of extinction had a language of their own. While the Mandalorians were widely known to have spoken Basic, they still used their native tongue from time to time. It made little sense to use a language which one’s opponent didn’t understand, but it appeared to provide the little warrior some ballast.

The dark blade emitted a vindictive howl. 

This time, the Mandalorian struggled. The youth swung the blade with as much skill as he can muster, but whatever mettle which he had possessed in complete darkness had dwindled. In the growing fire, in the smoke, with the worry that the infant could be choking from the ashen plumes, his focus was broken apart. The energy weapon seemed to be picking up on the boy’s distress, and he began to falter in his steps.

The Trandoshans kept firing; the Devaronian fell into blows as the young Mandalorian reattempted to deflect the bolts and swerve out of harm’s way. The massive creature of a man managed to strike the boy at his side, and the Mandalorian toppled a little in mid-attack—

The Devaronian felt a relentless chill overtake him… and he roared his last breath as his horned head fell off his shoulders.

The frantic and visibly frightened Trandoshans emptied their blaster bolts at the Mandalorian as they saw their last stalwart ally fall. 

They fired in successive bursts without pause, and the incessant sound of blasts made ghastly music with the now-growing crackling blaze which, to their surprise and detriment, had swallowed them whole. Their scaly hides and their hollow cries all ceased to be, and the patch of forest had gone down with them… *

The village’s survivors witnessed the fires from afar grow enormous until the night sky was filled with the cursory brightness of daylight. 

To their gratitude, the dry spells were finally over. A quick and harsh rain had begun to sweep the flames away. The brief monsoon had to happen on this fateful night when a hellish blaze could’ve wiped out their already weakened shanty town. 

Out of forty villagers, only seventeen were spared. They were still maimed by grief and had only started burying their dead when the fire broke and the rains fell… followed by the sound of a gurgling child slowly approaching their fallen homesteads.

The muted yet frenetic tinkle of sheets of rain upon metal accompanied the babbling of an infant. It was the sound of water hitting helmet.

A shadowed figure loomed closer to the village and everyone dropped their work as a couple covered in soot and untended wounds dropped to their knees.

“Our baby—“ a young human woman uttered a choked whisper. She clung to a young man—her husband. 

A Mandalorian came into full view and stopped short in front of the baby’s parents.  

There should have been more fear and desolation stirring in the villagers’ souls upon the sight of a legendary warrior in the flesh, but everyone was tired, too tired. If the Mandalorian came to finish off the rest of them, they no longer had the strength to draw the meekest of arms.

But the Mandalorian made no move of aggression. The blankness of the young warrior’s visor stared at the couple for a moment, and a warm understanding slowly bloomed between them.

The Mandalorian wordlessly held the cradled child out; he had made certain that the child was carefully settled within his mother’s arms, whose body quaked so terribly that for a moment the young warrior thought the woman would drop her own baby. 

The child’s young father held his family close; he stood agape at the stranger who came upon them like a specter with their infant son in tow, swaddled with care and seemingly content despite the horrors the child may have encountered only minutes before.

“Th-thank you,” mouthed the baby’s father. The young man was weak from the strain of survival and the abrupt surge of hope that no sound emerged.

The Mandalorian nodded once, but decided to say something which took the couple aback.

“They won’t bother you anymore.”

The young warrior limped into the shadows from whence he appeared, and the rain came down in torrents so that the armored figure disappeared amidst it. When the rain relented as quickly as it had poured in, the mysterious Mandalorian had already long left the vicinity. ***

“Where on the Manda’s good name were you, Ragnar?”

Axe Woves’ drawl of contained worry filled the dawn air as the man observed his young apprentice shuffle in his boots, the boy dragging his steps as he made his way to the Kom’rk-class starfighter. It was the craft assigned to the mentor-student duo as they made their supply trips for their ever-continuous efforts to rebuild Mandalore.

The older Mandalorian held his patience long enough as Ragnar made no effort to reply.

Axe, to his ongoing frustration, couldn’t force cooperation from the boy. Ragnar’s moments of stubbornness were growing few and far in between, to be quite frank and fair. It took Axe painstaking attempts to get this lanky fifteen-year-old to diligently take his lead and fulfill his lessons in Mandalorian apprenticeship as best as he could.

And yet, how could he blame the boy?

He knew with all his heart that Ragnar would rather be by his father’s side. 

Two years—two years of the boy tolerating someone not of his father’s Tribe as his teacher, and yet Axe had willingly taken the responsibility when it was first presented to him by both Lady Kryze and the Armorer. 

The next option could have been Din Djarin, but the silver-clad Mandalorian had already an apprentice of his own through Grogu. The man’s little green son was quite the handful.

“Vizsla seemed to have entrusted you with our lives when he covered your exit to fetch reinforcements, Axe,” Bo-Katan had weighed in; even then, her eyes were unfocused and she sounded unsure. The only conviction left in her was bolstered when the Armorer confirmed that it was within Paz’s bull-headed nature to make peace with adversaries when the need was dire. Paz was the last warrior Axe has had a scuffle with. The hulking Mandalorian had since made sincere amends by the time they had accidentally discovered the Imperial base disgustingly embedded in the underbelly of their homeworld.

And Ragnar—the poor child; he was ready to jump into the hands of wherever fate took him, after Mandalorian scouts had discovered Paz in the state he was in. It was a grueling ordeal. 

For the first year, Ragnar was passive yet unyielding. He was silent and secretive but spoke when Axe merited an answer. Two forces warred incessantly within the child in the absence of his father. Ragnar had become both cold and compliant, obedient yet distant.

Now, as Axe’s gaze landed on Ragnar and his more awkward-than-usual strides, the man studied the boy. The child walked in a stoop, probably exhausted and visibly soaked to his underclothes. In these two years of mentoring the youth, Axe could ably enough read Ragnar’s expressions behind the helmet as well as his body language. 

“I have the water,” Ragnar’s reply came right before Axe decided to demand an answer. “Three villages didn’t have it but the fourth one did.”

The youth’s visor tilted to face him as he hefted two large containers filled with sloshing liquid with one hand. 

Axe smiled in spite of himself; the man had his own helmet on so Ragnar didn’t see it. It would otherwise take great effort to hoist the containers up as high as the boy did had Ragnar not been industrious with his strength training.

That did not explain, however, the child’s seemingly wounded gait. Axe frowned again.

“Are you all right, verd’ika?”

Ragnar’s visor stilled at his direction for a long minute, as though registering the query.

The boy nodded in silence; he said no more.

Axe sighed heavily. He couldn’t bear sensing the phantom grip of dormant rage taking hold of his charge. Ragnar was adamant with his choice of color when he repainted parts of his armor symbolically acquired from previous missions under his guidance. The boy wore the Vizsla crest faithfully on his chest piece, the only beskar plate of protection which covered his vulnerable upper body. Ragnar chose the left piece first, the part which covered his heart. The Vizsla crest was then emblazoned over it, a fitting place for such a significant signet.

The boy’s pauldrons had red stripes adorning both sides. Red, the color which symbolized honoring a parent. He kept the blue hues of his helmet; blue, the color of reliability, and the colors which Paz had decided Clan Vizsla should proudly carry from thereon.

The rosy glow of sunrise soon cocooned the skies of this moon where they had decided to make a pit stop for their fresh water supply. Under that gold and magenta light, Ragnar looked a tad more presentable. 

Axe’s brow creased.

“Ragnar—is that blaster burn on your flight suit?”

“NO.”

Axe flinched at Ragnar’s instant retort. It was defensive. It was most likely a lie, but Axe knew better than to interrogate the boy when he was clearly in need of nourishment and proper sleep. 

Once more, Axe sighed. How does one manage the capricious nature of an adolescent without being too heavy-handed? That was the trouble and the danger of mentoring an apprentice that wasn’t your own child. 

Axe couldn’t treat Ragnar as his own—a far cry from it. 

Not while Paz Vizsla was still…

“I’m ready to leave now,” Ragnar said abruptly, cutting through Axe’s somber train of thought. After a short while, the boy added respectfully, “Sir.”

“All right, then,” Axe acknowledged. He made a motion for Ragnar to board the Kom’rk and settle himself properly. “Get some breakfast and rest. We’ll head to the next system before returning to Mandalore. I need you to be in tip-top shape.”

“Yes, sir.”

The child was being obedient and distant, one too many times. Axe could reach Ragnar but only if the boy willed it. There will always be a wall between him and his apprentice, but Axe had to make the most of it. Ragnar was learning, after all, in spite of everything. In fact, the boy was a little ahead than the rest of apprentices his stage and age. There was determination in Ragnar that came in focused, rapid bursts—a sprint more often than a marathon.

Axe didn’t accost the child further when Ragnar decided to isolate himself in his personal bunk again. Lessons can wait for now. 

When the older Mandalorian took the Kom’rk to orbit and jumped to hyperspace, his only co-pilot were the sounds of water swirling in two full containers close to the spot where Ragnar usually sat.

“This is the Way,” Axe mumbled, a little bitterly and a little sadly, recalling the Tribe and their ancient, outdated practices. ***

A small, relieved sob escaped Ragnar as the boy kicked off his boots and crawled under the blankets of his bedding. Thankfully, Axe had allowed him his own quarters in the already cramped Kom’rk living areas. 

Ragnar had tried not to feel guilty over keeping a million secrets from the man who had whole-heartedly decided to become his teacher, despite Ragnar’s own unvoiced misgivings at first. 

He knew that Axe respected his father, and that was all—hell, that was everything—that mattered to the boy. 

Would Axe still respect him, his apprentice, Ragnar thought, should his teacher find out that he had discovered the ruined remains of the Darksaber discarded like a useless trinket among the charred husks of super commando clone armor… and through long days and nights of clandestine research, he had perseveringly pieced Clan Vizsla’s symbolic weapon together? Through long days and nights as he figured out the ancient weapon from the limited instances Lady Kryze wielded it before it was crushed in a duel with the enemy?

The hilt was not the same, but the crystal was there. It did take soul-draining convincing from him towards the Armorer. 

She was the only other authority Ragnar truly revered apart from his father. He couldn’t lie to her… and yet he had managed to persuade her to provide him materials for a new hilt. She had never found out what it was for. Oh, those were months of daring and scheming. Ragnar nearly loved the Armorer as he wholly loved Paz Vizsla. And Ragnar knew that the Armorer loved him with a fierce, wounded love of a beloved clan elder. 

It had hurt to hide things from her… but Ragnar needed his secrets. His very resolve thrived through those secrets. Ragnar had his own world, his own reality that he shared with no one…

…No one except his father.

Ragnar fished out a tiny comlink device soon after he had tucked the Darksaber back into a hidden sheath clipped on his belt flap. 

The boy took deep, nurturing breaths to relax his mind. His body still trembled from the effort he needed to hold his own from the encounter with a band of ruffians, and saving a tiny baby the night before. After he had restored the infant to his parents, Ragnar fled to cry himself to sleep in an even more deserted corner of the woods.

In gratitude, Ragnar thought how his helmet continued to conceal everything: his eyes swollen from a night of weeping, the profound tiredness in his eyes, the lies he kept in his gaze.

The Armorer had said that anyone from the Tribe was free to release themselves from their vow… they were free from the Creed of the helmet since their return to Mandalore, but even then, it was voluntary. It somehow pleased Ragnar that only a few among the Tribe had decided to take advantage of a revised verse in the Creed, despite it based on ancient song. Most of them, like himself, chose to keep the helmet on for various reasons. The Armorer herself kept her own buy’ce on.

“I will never take my helmet off,” Ragnar had promised himself, “as long as my father sleeps.”

Another deep breath; Ragnar had pressed the comms button which transmitted his heartfelt message to a beloved person parsecs away. 

“Dad,” Ragnar breathed into the tiny device. His voice seemed ephemeral but the hope he held in his quaking body held fast. 

Ragnar told Paz through the comms about his night in the forest. 

“You would’ve been proud,” the boy continued. A fresh deluge of tears fell from his cheeks. It was always like this, when he spoke to his father.  His teenage voice cracked as he spoke into the comms.

“I panicked, Dad,” Ragnar confessed. “What if the baby’s parents were dead? I’d have to tell Axe what happened. I’ll be tanned for sure.” The boy chuckled amidst his quiet weeping. “I thought to myself, that baby would be a foundling. Would he be my foundling since I rescued him, Dad? I don’t think you’re ready to be a grandpa yet. Besides, I’m only fifteen. You’ll tan my hide after Axe does.”

Ragnar’s laughter that broke through his sorrow felt more genuine somehow. 

“I’m fifteen now, Dad. Would you believe it? It’s been over two years since my verd’goten. Don’t worry, there’s no girls in the picture yet. I promise I’ll finish my apprenticeship even before I think about girls.”

Ragnar laughed again. He was feeling less alone.

“I love you so much, Dad. I’ll see you soon.”

He always ended his comms with those words, without fail. 

Ragnar set the comlink down, his hand falling like deadweight at his side. The boy forced himself not to feel empty once again. He closed his eyes tight and let his thoughts float further out, and felt the world alive around him in spite being in the middle of space travel. He could feel Axe’s sadness as the man piloted the ship alone in the cockpit, from where Ragnar sat in the semi-darkness of his bunk. 

The child kept his eyes closed.

I love you so much, Dad. I’ll see you soon.

The first statement had always rang true. Ragnar knew no greater truth and it even rivaled the Creed he swore on his thirteenth birthday, and had re-sworn months after before Mandalore’s Living Waters. 

The second statement, however…

Dad, Ragnar added in his thoughts. Will you see me soon?

The boy had drifted off to sleep with tears still in his eyes, underneath an unshed helmet. ***

The Armorer knew that Ragnar had contacted Paz again, but she dared not pry on what son had to say to his father.

Each member of the Tribe always had their own secrets, and she let them keep those secrets if it meant that they kept her trust as much as they kept to the Creed. 

Ragnar was no different, and yet she realized the child’s own special case.

She saw the many lights blinking in meaningful rhythm—green for the active comms close to Paz’s ear, a voice which only the man can hear, and yellow all over the bacta tank which the Armorer beheld. She keenly observed the medics going through their routine of checking on the patient within, who was locked in deepest slumber.

She fought tears in her eyes as Paz Vizsla’s once-immense and intimidating form was but one that had diminished: frail-looking and defenseless, suspended in a pod of healing liquid which merely prolonged his life in a comatose state.

Paz’s vitals remained stable—his heartbeat, his breathing, even his bodily functions of a system which had not taken food but simple, basic nourishment to keep the organs from failing completely. 

It was torture, seeing him like this, day in and day out for two years.

Two years. The Armorer marveled at how their people remained steadfast and kept rebuilding after two years, in the heated whispers over another growing enemy in the shadows.

In this moment, let that be Lady Bo-Katan’s concern. Now, the Armorer had this sacred hour of tending to Paz through the medics, who faithfully kept the man who was quite like a son to her alive and well… in a manner of speaking.

At the conclusion of the battle, the Mandalorian scouts immediately sent to scour the aftermath had found Paz propped against a wall, surely dead… yet there he had been, barely alive and breathing in ragged, pained gasps. 

Din Djarin had informed her that Grogu found him first, as animatedly narrated by the toddler in his amusing process of speech. Djarin’s son had tried his best to heal the hulk of a warrior… but as the little green child had discovered, as long as the patient was unconscious, he had no full consent; therefore Paz’s own will to live was the only factor which had met the child’s healing powers halfway. Grogu did what he could… the rest would be up to Paz. This was the state which Paz’s spirit, Grogu had tried to express, had insofar allowed. What a wonder of nature Grogu remained for anyone who encountered the child.

Paz’s body took a fatal beating, and yet the man lived and continued to do so before her eyes. The Armorer hadn’t ceased thanking the Manda for long periods afterward when she had been informed that there were bacta tanks ready for use—equipment, apparently, left by the Remnant for their own benefit. 

Since Moff Gideon was deemed to be no more, anything useful that they could salvage from the wreck was considered treasure. Three fully functional bacta tanks were among the goods which would otherwise be a medical luxury across a war-torn Outer Rim.

They were able to heal a few more through the two tanks otherwise unoccupied by her most faithful warrior. There were those who still perished in the intense battle to reclaim Mandalore—Paz truly was one of the luckier ones.

But how cruel, the Armorer thought in silent despair… how cruel fate was that while Paz lived, he was not truly living. While his heart beat, did it continue to love with its fiery, customary passion the son and a Creed he had sworn lifelong allegiance to? 

Comatose… two years, two improbable years…

The Armorer heaved a melancholy sigh. 

The medics had told her and so she relayed to Ragnar that while his father was in a deep sleep, there were parts of his brain that remained active. In Ragnar’s heart, his father listened, even in this deepest slumber. They had scanned Paz’s brain, had checked his neural reactions as well as his muscular ones. Both were continually stimulated by regulated pulses of energy to stave off atrophy. 

The respirator mask measured his breaths; the rhythm remained effortless and even. A specialized helmet still covered Paz’s face, fully respectful of the man’s will in not breaking the Creed, even as the Armorer had made the vows more lenient in the light of their return to Mandalore.

Paz was not brain-dead. With that fact, Ragnar sought hope. The Armorer sought hope and unspeakable comfort in it was well…

“Yet you continue to dream, ner ad’ika.” In her most vulnerable moments, the Armorer had allowed herself to call Paz her child. It was what Paz’s own mother would have wanted before her demise when Paz was but a small child himself, and Lady Vizsla had sent her son under the care of a goran—a blacksmith.

“Dream well, then,” the Armorer whispered. “Listen to the voice of your son. Ragnar always calls to you, even when the comlink does not transmit. Listen to my voice as well, beloved warrior. Come back to us when you are ready.”

In the meantime, the Armorer repeated in her heart, numbering the countless stars as she wished Paz’s own heart would beat many times over—

Dream well.

*****

Mando'a chapter glossary: *verd’ika - little soldier *buy’ce - helmet *verd’goten - Mandalorian coming-of-age ritual usually done at thirteen years old *Manda - the Mandalorian Oversoul similar to the afterlife *ner ad’ika - my child

Link to "A Child of the Watch" series/collection - AO3

Link to next chapter - AO3 || Tumblr

[wild-karrde]

I have a rec for fandom Friday! Lady the the Merc by @flightlessangelwings is a great fic and there is not enough Axe Woves fic right now so this was such a great read! It’s a f!reader and has smut https://www.tumblr.com/flightlessangelwings/716783352194203648/lady-and-the-merc

YESSSSSS GIVE ME MOOOOOAR AXE CONTENT. This man is SO confident and suave, diving out of crashing Star Destroyers and whatnot, and I always get SO HYPED when I find new content for him. This is such a wonderful short little fic. The tension build is DELICIOUS (also, I adore Koska being the knowing and sarcastic queen she is YES). And then the spice???? WOOOOOOOOOOO BUDDY. And the end? VERY SWEET. WE LOVE TO SEE IT. 10/10. Thanks so much for the rec!

Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)

[muldyfi]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Mandalorian (TV), Star Wars - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Din Djarin/Bo-Katan Kryze, Bo-Katan Kryze/Axe Woves Characters: Axe Woves, Bo-Katan Kryze, Koska Reeves, Din Djarin, Grogu | Baby Yoda Additional Tags: Angst, Unrequited Love, post chapter 22 Series: Part 2 of Lonely Summary:

He had loved her for a long time, a feeling that he knew very well that she didn’t return, despite their on and off relationship over the years.

All this time he had assumed that she wasn’t interested in feelings, her focus instead on ruling Mandalore.

But there was a tone to the way she was talking about Din Djarin that irked him.

Like she cared about the guy. About this super religious weirdo who never took his helmet off, who’s people had never even lived on Mandalore, instead escaping the destruction by hiding on Concordia before scattering across the galaxy instead of staying to fight for their planet.

They weren’t his kind of Mandalorians.

And he hadn’t thought they were hers either.

[turkwriter]

Ba'jur: You will raise your young as Mandalorians.